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diff --git a/45585-0.txt b/45585-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..767f29d --- /dev/null +++ b/45585-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12082 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Seven Curses of London, by James Greenwood + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Seven Curses of London + + +Author: James Greenwood + + + +Release Date: May 5, 2014 [eBook #45585] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEVEN CURSES OF LONDON*** + + +Transcribed from the [1869] edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: Book cover] + + [Picture: Yours truly James Greenwood (picture of Greenwood)] + + + + + + THE + SEVEN CURSES OF LONDON. + + + * * * * * + + BY JAMES GREENWOOD, + The “Amateur Casual.” + + * * * * * + + * * * * * + + * * * * * + + LONDON: + STANLEY RIVERS AND CO. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + + I. Neglected Children. + CHAPTER I. + STARTLING FACTS. +The Pauper Population.—Pauper Children.—Opinions page 1 +concerning their proper Treatment.—A Hundred Thousand +Children loose in London Streets.—Neglected +Babies.—Juvenile “Market Prowlers” + CHAPTER II. + RESPECTING THE PARENTAGE OF SOME OF OUR GUTTER POPULATION. +Who are the Mothers?—The Infant Labour-Market.—Watch p. 13 +London and Blackfriars Bridges.—The Melancholy Types.—The +Flashy, Flaunting “Infant.”—Keeping Company.—Marriage.—The +Upshot + CHAPTER III. + BABY-FARMING. +“Baby-Farmers” and Advertising “Child-Adopters.”—“F. X.” p. 29 +of Stepney.—The Author’s Interview with Farmer Oxleek.—The +Case of Baby Frederick Wood + CHAPTER IV. + WORKING BOYS. +The London Errand-Boy.—His Drudgery and Privations.—His p. 58 +Temptations.—The London Boy after Dark.—The Amusements +provided for him + CHAPTER V. + THE PROBLEM OF DELIVERANCE. +Curious Problem.—The best Method of Treatment.—The “Child p. 76 +of the Gutter” not to be entirely abolished.—The genuine +Alley-bred Arab.—The Poor Lambs of the Ragged Flock.—The +Tree of Evil in our midst.—The Breeding Places of Disease +and Vice + II. Professional Thieves. + CHAPTER VI. + THEIR NUMBER AND DIFFICULTIES. +Twenty Thousand Thieves in London.—What it means.—The p. 85 +Language of “Weeds.”—Cleverness of the Pilfering +Fraternity.—A Protest against a barbarous Suggestion.—The +Prisoner’s great Difficulty.—The Moment of Leaving +Prison.—Bad Friends.—What becomes of Good Resolutions and +the Chaplain’s Counsel?—The Criminal’s Scepticism of Human +Goodness.—Life in “Little Hell.”—The Cow-Cross Mission. + CHAPTER VII. + HOMES AND HAUNTS OF THE BRITISH THIEF. +The Three Classes of Thieving Society.—Popular p. 108 +Misapprehensions.—A True Picture of the London Thief.—A +Fancy Sketch of the “Under-ground Cellar.”—In Disguise at +a Thieves’ Raffle.—The Puzzle of “Black Maria.”—Mr. +Mullins’s Speech and his Song + CHAPTER VIII. + JUVENILE THIEVES. +The Beginning of the Downhill Journey.—Candidates for p. 124 +Newgate Honours.—Black Spots of London.—Life from the +Young Robber’s Point of View.—The Seedling Recruits the +most difficult to reform.—A doleful Summing-up.—A Phase of +the Criminal Question left unnoticed.—Budding +Burglars.—Streams which keep at full flood the Black Sea +of Crime.—The Promoters of “Gallows Literature.”—Another +Shot at a Fortress of the +Devil.—“Poison-Literature.”—“Starlight Sall.”—“Panther +Bill” + CHAPTER IX. + THE THIEF NON-PROFESSIONAL. +The Registered and the Unregistered Thieves of the London p. 144 +Hunting-ground.—The Certainty of the Crop of Vice.—Omnibus +Drivers and Conductors.—The “Watchers.”—The London General +Omnibus Company.—The Scandal of their System.—The +Shopkeeper Thief.—False Weights and Measures.—Adulteration +of Food and Drink.—Our Old Law, “I am as honest as I can +afford to be!”—Rudimentary Exercises in the Art of Pillage + CHAPTER X. + CRIMINAL SUPPRESSION AND PUNISHMENT. +Lord Romilly’s Suggestion concerning the Education of the p. 173 +Children of Criminals.—Desperate Criminals.—The Alleys of +the Borough.—The worst Quarters not, as a rule, the most +noisy.—The Evil Example of “Gallows Heroes,” “Dick +Turpin,” “Blueskin,” &c.—The Talent for “Gammoning Lady +Green.”—A worthy Governor’s Opinion as to the best way of +“Breaking” a Bad Boy.—Affection for “Mother.”—The Dark +Cell and its Inmate.—An Affecting Interview + CHAPTER XI. + ADULT CRIMINALS AND THE NEW LAW FOR THEIR BETTER GOVERNMENT. +Recent Legislation.—Statistics.—Lord Kimberley’s “Habitual p. 183 +Criminals” Bill.—The Present System of +License-Holders.—Colonel Henderson’s Report.—Social +Enemies of Suspected Men.—The Wrong-headed Policeman and +the Mischief he may cause.—Looking out for a Chance.—The +last Resource of desperate Honesty.—A Brotherly +Appeal.—“Ginger will settle her.”—Ruffians who should be +shut up + III. Professional Beggars. + CHAPTER XII. + THE BEGGAR OF OLDEN TIME. +“Only a Beggar.”—The Fraternity 333 Years ago.—A savage p. 211 +Law.—Origin of the Poor-Laws.—Irish Distinction in the +Ranks of Beggary.—King Charles’s Proclamation.—Cumberland +Discipline + CHAPTER XIII. + THE WORK OF PUNISHMENT AND RECLAMATION. +The Effect of “The Society for the Suppression of p. 221 +Mendicity.”—State Business earned out by Individual +Enterprise.—“The Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society.”—The +quiet Work of these Societies.—Their Mode of Work.—Curious +Statistics.—Singular Oscillations.—Diabolical Swindling + CHAPTER XIV. + BEGGING “DODGES.” +The Variety and Quality of the Imposture.—Superior p. 242 +Accomplishments of the Modern Practitioner.—The Recipe for +Success.—The Power of “Cheek.”—“Chanting” and the “Shallow +Lay.”—Estimates of their Paying Value.—The Art of touching +Women’s Hearts.—The Half-resentful Trick.—The Loudon +“Cadger.”—The Height of the “Famine Season.” + CHAPTER XV. + GENTEEL ADVERTISING BEGGARS. +The Newspaper Plan and the delicate Process.—Forms of 259 +Petition.—Novel Applications of Photography.—Personal +Attractions of the Distressed.—Help, or I perish! + IV. Fallen Women. + CHAPTER XVI. + THIS CURSE. +The Difficulty in handling it.—The Question of its p. 271 +Recognition.—The Argyll Rooms.—Mr. Acton’s Visit +there.—The Women and their Patrons.—The Floating +Population of Windmill-street.—Cremorne Gardens in the +Season + CHAPTER XVII. + THE PLAIN FACTS AND FIGURES OF PROSTITUTION. +Statistics of Westminster, Brompton, and Pimlico.—Methods p. 281 +of conducting the nefarious Business.—Aristocratic +Dens.—The High Tariff.—The Horrors of the Social Evil.—The +Broken Bridge behind the Sinner.—“Dress Lodgers.”—There’s +always a “Watcher.”—Soldiers and Sailors.—The “Wrens of +the Curragh” + CHAPTER XVIII. + THE PRESENT CONDITION OF THE QUESTION. +The Laws applying to Street-walkers.—The Keepers of the p. 304 +Haymarket Night-houses.—Present Position of the +Police-magistrates.—Music-hall +Frequenters.—Refreshment-bars.—Midnight +Profligacy—“Snuggeries.”—Over-zealous Blockheads. + CHAPTER XIX. + SUGGESTIONS. +Ignoring the Evil.—Punishment fit for the “Deserter” and p. 324 +the Seducer.—The “Know-nothing” and “Do-nothing” +Principle.—The Emigration of Women of Bad Character + V. The Curse of Drunkenness. + CHAPTER XX. + ITS POWER. +The crowning Curse.—No form of sin or sorrow in which it p. 332 +does not play a part.—The “Slippery Stone” of +Life.—Statistics.—Matters not growing worse.—The Army +Returns.—The System of Adulteration + CHAPTER XXI. + ATTEMPTS TO ARREST IT. +The Permissive Liquors Bill.—Its Advocates and their p. 351 +Arguments.—The Drunkenness of the Nation.—Temperance Facts +and Anecdotes.—Why the Advocates of Total Abstinence do +not make more headway.—Moderate Drinking.—Hard +Drinking.—The Mistake about childish Petitioners + VI. Betting Gamblers. + CHAPTER XXII. + “ADVERTISING TIPSTERS” AND “BETTING COMMISSIONERS.” +The Vice of Gambling on the increase among the p. 377 +Working-classes.—Sporting “Specs.”—A “Modus.”—Turf +Discoveries.—Welshers.—The Vermin of the +Betting-field.—Their Tactics.—The Road to Ruin + VII. Waste of Charity. + CHAPTER XXIII. + METROPOLITAN PAUPERISM. +Parochial Statistics.—The Public hold the p. 421 +Purse-strings.—Cannot the Agencies actually at work be +made to yield greater Results?—The need of fair +Rating.—The Heart and Core of the Poor-law Difficulty.—My +foremost thought when I was a “Casual.”—Who are most +liable to slip?—“Crank-work.”—The Utility of +Labour-yards.—Scales of Relief.—What comes of breaking-up +a Home + CHAPTER XXIV. + THE BEST REMEDY. +Emigration.—The various Fields.—Distinguish the p. 455 +Industrious Worker in need of temporary Relief.—Last Words + + + +I.—Neglected Children. + + +CHAPTER I. +STARTLING FACTS. + + +_The Pauper Population_.—_Pauper Children_.—_Opinions concerning their +proper Treatment_.—_A Hundred Thousand Children loose in London +Streets_.—_Neglected Babies_.—_Juvenile_ “_Market Prowlers_.” + +IT is a startling fact that, in England and Wales alone, at the present +time, the number of children under the age of sixteen, dependent more or +less on the parochial authorities for maintenance, amounts to three +hundred and fifty thousand. + +It is scarcely less startling to learn that annually more than a hundred +thousand criminals emerge at the doors of the various prisons, that, for +short time or long time, have been their homes, and with no more +substantial advice than “to take care that they don’t make their +appearance there again,” are turned adrift once more to face the world, +unkind as when they last stole from it. This does not include our +immense army of juvenile vagrants. How the information has been arrived +at is more than I can tell; but it is an accepted fact that, daily, +winter and summer, within the limits of our vast and wealthy city of +London, there wander, destitute of proper guardianship, food, clothing, +or employment, a _hundred thousand_ boys and girls in fair training for +the treadmill and the oakum shed, and finally for Portland and the +convict’s mark. + +It is these last-mentioned hundred thousand, rather than the four hundred +and fifty thousand previously mentioned, that are properly classed under +the heading of this first chapter. Practically, the three hundred and +fifty thousand little paupers that cumber the poor-rates are without the +category of neglected ones. In all probability, at least one-half of +that vast number never were victims of neglect, in the true sense of the +term. Mr. Bumble derives his foster children from sources innumerable. +There are those that are born in the “house,” and who, on some pretext, +are abandoned by their unnatural mother. There are the “strays,” +discovered by the police on their beats, and consigned, for the present, +to the workhouse, and never owned. There is the offspring of the +decamping weaver, or shoemaker, who goes on tramp “to better himself;” +but, never succeeding, does not regard it as worth while to tramp home +again to report his ill-luck. These, and such as these, may truly +ascribe their pauperism to neglect on somebody’s part; but by far the +greater number are what they are through sheer misfortune. When death +snatches father away from the table scarcely big enough to accommodate +the little flock that cluster about it—snatches him away in the lusty +prime of life, and without warning, or, worse still, flings him on a bed +of sickness, the remedies for which devour the few pounds thriftily laid +aside for such an emergency, and, after all, are of no avail, what other +asylum but the workhouse offers itself to mother and children? How many +cases of this kind the parish books could reveal, one can only guess; +quite enough, we may be sure, to render unpalatable that excessive amount +of caution observed by those in power against “holding out a premium” to +pauperism. It is somewhat amazing to hear great authorities talk +sometimes. Just lately, Mr. Bartley, reading at the Society of Arts a +paper entitled, “The training and education of pauper children,” took +occasion to remark:— + + “These children cannot be looked upon exactly in the same way as + paupers proper, inasmuch as their unfortunate position is entirely + due to circumstances over which they could have no control. They are + either the offspring of felons, cripples, and idiots, or orphans, + bastards, and deserted children, and claim the protection of the law, + frequently from their tenderest years, from having been deprived of + the care of their natural guardians without fault or crime of their + own. Such being their condition, they must either steal or starve in + the streets, or the State must take charge of them. It may further + be affirmed that, in a strictly commercial point of view, it is more + economical to devote a certain amount in education and systematic + training than by allowing them to grow up in the example of their + parents and workhouse companions, to render their permanent support, + either in a prison or a workhouse, a burden on the industrious + classes. The State, in fact, acknowledges this, and accordingly a + provision is theoretically supplied for all pauper children, not only + for their bodily wants, but, to a certain extent, for their mental + improvement. At the same time, it is also necessary that the extreme + should not be run into, viz., that of treating them so liberally as + to hold out a premium to pauperism. In no case should their comfort + be better than, nor in fact as good as, an industrious labourer has + within his reach.” + +Mr. Bartley is a gentleman whose knowledge of the subject he treats of +exceeds that of most men; moreover, he is a man who, in his acts and +nature, shows himself actuated by a kind heart, governed by a sound head; +but, with all deference, it is difficult to agree altogether with the +foregoing remarks of his: and they are the better worth noticing, because +precisely the same sentiment breathes through almost every modern, new, +and improved system of parochial reform. Why should these unfortunate +creatures, “their unfortunate position being entirely due to +circumstances over which they had no control,” be made less comfortable +in their condition than the industrious labourer,—who, by the way, may be +an agricultural labourer, with his starvation wages of nine shillings a +week and his damp and miserable hovel of two rooms to board and lodge his +numerous family? What sort of justice is it to keep constantly before +their unoffending eyes the humiliating fact that they have no standing +even on the bottom round of the social ladder, and that their proper +place is to crouch meekly and uncomplainingly at the foot of it? Even +supposing that they, the pauper children, are “either the offspring of +felons, cripples, and idiots, or orphans, bastards, and deserted +children,” which is assuming to the verge of improbability, still, since +it is acknowledged that the state in which we discover them “is due to no +fault or crime of their own,” why should we hesitate to make them +commonly comfortable? To fail so to do when it is in our power, and +when, according to their innocence and helplessness, it is their due, is +decidedly at variance with the commonly-understood principles of +Christian charity. It will be needless, however, here to pursue the +subject of pauper management, since another section of this book has been +given to its consideration. Anyhow, our three hundred and fifty thousand +pauper children can have no claim to be reckoned among the “neglected.” +They are, or should be, a class whose hard necessity has been brought +under the notice of the authorities, and by them considered and provided +for. + +There are other neglected children besides those already enumerated, and +who are not included in the tenth part of a million who live in the +streets, for the simple reason that they are too young to know the use of +their legs. They are “coming on,” however. There is no present fear of +the noble annual crop of a hundred thousand diminishing. They are so +plentifully propagated that a savage preaching “civilization” might +regard it as a mercy that the localities of their infant nurture are such +as suit the ravening appetites of cholera and typhus. Otherwise they +would breed like rabbits in an undisturbed warren, and presently swarm so +abundantly that the highways would be over-run, making it necessary to +pass an Act of Parliament, improving on the latest enacted for dogs, +against the roaming at large of unmuzzled children of the gutter. +Observe the vast number of “city Arabs,” to be encountered in a walk, +from Cheapside to the Angel at Islington, say. You cannot mistake them. +There are other children who are constantly encountered in the street, +male and female, who, though perhaps neither so ragged and dirty as the +genuine juvenile vagrants, are even more sickly and hungry looking; but +it is as easy to distinguish between the two types—between the +_home-owning_ and the _homeless_, as between the sleek pet dog, and the +cur of the street, whose ideas of a “kennel” are limited to that +represented by the wayside gutter, from which by good-luck edibles may be +extracted. Not only does the youthful ragamuffin cry aloud for remedy in +every street and public way of the city, he thrusts his ugly presence on +us continuously, and appeals to us in bodily shape. In this respect, the +curse of neglected children differs widely from any of the others, +beggars alone excepted, perhaps. And even as regards beggars, to see +them is not always to believe in them as human creatures helpless in the +sad condition in which they are discovered, and worthy of the best help +we can afford to bestow on them. It is next to impossible by outward +signs merely to discriminate between the impostor and the really +unfortunate and destitute. The pallid cheek and the sunken eye, may be a +work of art and not of nature, and in the cunning arrangement of rags, so +as to make the most of them, the cheat must always have an advantage over +the genuine article. Weighing the evidence _pro._ and _con._, the object +of it creeping even at his snail’s pace may be out of sight before we +arrive at what appears to us a righteous verdict, and our scrupulous +charity reserved for another, occasion. But no such perplexing doubts +and hesitation need trouble us in selecting the boy gutter bred and born +from the one who lays claim to a home, even though it may be no more than +a feeble pretence, consisting of a family nightly gathering in some dirty +sty that serves as a bedroom, and a morning meeting at a board spread +with a substitute for a breakfast. In the latter there is an expression +of countenance utterly wanting in the former; an undescribable shyness, +and an instinctive observance of decency, that has been rain-washed and +sun-burnt out of the gipsy of the London highway since the time of his +crawling out of the gooseberry sieve, with a wisp of hay in it that +served him as a cradle. + +And here I can fancy I hear the incredulous reader exclaim, “But that is +mere imagery of course; ragamuffin babies never are cradled in gooseberry +sieves, with a wisp of hay to lie on.” Let me assure you, dear madam, it +is not imagery, but positive fact. The strangest receptacles do duty as +baby cradles at times. In another part of our book, it will be shown +that a raisin-box may be so adapted, or even an egg-box; the latter with +a bit of straw in it as a cradle for an invalid baby with a broken thigh! +But as regards the gooseberry sieve, it is a fact that came under the +writer’s immediate observation. Accompanied by a friend, he was on a +visit of exploration into the little-known regions of Baldwin’s Gardens, +in Leather Lane, and entering a cellar there, the family who occupied it +were discovered in a state of dreadful commotion. The mother, a tall, +bony, ragged shrew, had a baby tucked under one arm, while she was using +the other by the aid of a pair of dilapidated nozzleless bellows in +inflicting a tremendous beating on a howling young gentleman of about +eleven years old. “Tut! tut! what is the matter, Mrs. Donelly? Rest +your arm a moment, now, and tell us all about it.” “Matther! shure it’s +matther enough to dhrive a poor widdy beyant her sinses!” And then her +rage turning to sorrow, she in pathetic terms described how that she left +that bad boy Johnny only for a few moments in charge of the “darlint +comfortable ashleap in her bashket,” and that he had neglected his duty, +and that the baste of a donkey had smelt her out, and “ate her clane out +o’ bed.” + +I have had so much experience in this way, that one day I may write a +book on the Haunts and Homes of the British Baby. It was not long after +the incident of the gooseberry sieve, that I discovered in one small room +in which a family of six resided, three little children, varying in age +from three to eight, perhaps, stark naked. It was noon of a summer’s +day, and there they were nude as forest monkeys, and so hideously dirty +that every rib-bone in their poor wasted little bodies showed plain, and +in colour like mahogany. Soon as I put my head in at the door they +scattered, scared as rabbits, to the “bed,” an arrangement of +evil-smelling flock and old potato-sacks, and I was informed by the +mother that they had not a rag to wear, and had been in their present +condition for _more than three months_. + +Let us return, however, to the hordes of small Arabs found wandering +about the streets of the city. To the mind of the initiated, instantly +recurs the question, “whence do they all come”? They are not imported +like those other pests of society, “German band boys or organ grinders;” +they must have been babies once upon a time; where did they grow up? In +very dreary and retired regions, my dear sir, though for that matter if +it should happen that you are perambulating fashionable Regent-street or +aristocratic Belgravia, when you put to yourself the perplexing question, +you may be nigher to a visible solution of the mystery than you would +care to know. Where does the shoeless, ragged, dauntless, and often +desperate boy of the gutter breed? Why, not unfrequently as close almost +to the mansions of the rich and highly respectable as the sparrows in +their chimney stacks. Nothing is more common than to discover a hideous +stew of courts and alleys reeking in poverty and wretchedness almost in +the shadow of the palatial abodes of the great and wealthy. Such +instances might be quoted by the dozen. + +It is seldom that these fledglings of the hawk tribe quit their nests or +rather their nesting places until they are capable, although on a most +limited scale, of doing business on their own account. Occasionally a +specimen may be seen in the vicinity of Covent Garden or Farringdon +Market, seated on a carriage extemporized out of an old rusty teatray and +drawn along by his elder relatives, by means of a string. It may not be +safely assumed, however, that the latter are actuated by no other than +affectionate and disinterested motives in thus treating their infant +charge to a ride. It is much more probable that being left at home in +the alley by their mother, who is engaged elsewhere at washing or +“charing,” with strict injunctions not to leave baby for so long as a +minute, and being goaded to desperation by the thoughts of the plentiful +feed of cast-out plums and oranges to be picked up in “Common Garden” at +this “dead ripe” season of the year, they have hit on this ingenious +expedient by which the maternal mandate may be obeyed to the letter, and +their craving for market refuse be at the same time gratified. + +By-the-bye, it may here be mentioned as a contribution towards solving +the riddle, “How do these hundred thousand street prowlers contrive to +exist?” that they draw a considerable amount of their sustenance from the +markets. And really it would seem that by some miraculous dispensation +of Providence, garbage was for their sake robbed of its poisonous +properties, and endowed with virtues such as wholesome food possesses. +Did the reader ever see the young market hunters at such a “feed” say in +the month of August or September? It is a spectacle to be witnessed only +by early risers who can get as far as Covent Garden by the time that the +wholesale dealing in the open falls slack—which will be about eight +o’clock; and it is not to be believed unless it is seen. They will +gather about a muck heap and gobble up plums, a sweltering mass of decay, +and oranges and apples that have quite lost their original shape and +colour, with the avidity of ducks or pigs. I speak according to my +knowledge, for I have seen them at it. I have seen one of these gaunt +wolfish little children with his tattered cap full of plums of a sort one +of which I would not have permitted a child of mine to eat for all the +money in the Mint, and this at a season when the sanitary authorities in +their desperate alarm at the spread of cholera had turned bill stickers, +and were begging and imploring the people to abstain from this, that, and +the other, and especially to beware of fruit unless perfectly sound and +ripe. Judging from the earnestness with which this last provision was +urged, there must have been cholera enough to have slain a dozen strong +men in that little ragamuffin’s cap, and yet he munched on till that +frowsy receptacle was emptied, finally licking his fingers with a relish. +It was not for me to forcibly dispossess the boy of a prize that made him +the envy of his plumless companions, but I spoke to the market beadle +about it, asking him if it would not be possible, knowing the +propensities of these poor little wretches, so to dispose of the +poisonous offal that they could not get at it; but he replied that it was +nothing to do with him what they ate so long as they kept their hands +from picking and stealing; furthermore he politely intimated that “unless +I had nothing better to do” there was no call for me to trouble myself +about the “little warmint,” whom nothing would hurt. He confided to me +his private belief that they were “made inside something after the +orsestretch, and that farriers’ nails wouldn’t come amiss to ’em if they +could only get ’em down.” However, and although the evidence was rather +in the sagacious market beadle’s favour, I was unconverted from my +original opinion, and here take the liberty of urging on any official of +Covent Garden or Farringdon Market who may happen to read these pages the +policy of adopting my suggestion as to the safe bestowal of fruit offal +during the sickly season. That great danger is incurred by allowing it +to be consumed as it now is, there cannot be a question. Perhaps it is +too much to assume that the poor little beings whom hunger prompts to +feed off garbage do so with impunity. It is not improbable that, in many +cases, they slink home to die in their holes as poisoned rats do. That +they are never missed from the market is no proof of the contrary. Their +identification is next to impossible, for they are like each other as +apples in a sieve, or peas in one pod. Moreover, to tell their number is +out of the question. It is as incomprehensible as is their nature. They +swarm as bees do, and arduous indeed would be the task of the individual +who undertook to reckon up the small fry of a single alley of the +hundreds that abound in Squalor’s regions. They are of as small account +in the public estimation as stray street curs, and, like them, it is only +where they evince a propensity for barking and biting that their +existence is recognised. Should death to-morrow morning make a clean +sweep of the unsightly little scavengers who grovel for a meal amongst +the market offal heaps, next day would see the said heaps just as +industriously surrounded. + + + +CHAPTER II. +RESPECTING THE PARENTAGE OF SOME OF OUR GUTTER POPULATION. + + +_Who are the Mothers_?—_The Infant Labour Market_.—_Watch London and +Blackfriars Bridges_.—_The Melancholy Types_.—_The Flashy_, _Flaunting_ +“_Infant_.”—_Keeping Company_.—_Marriage_.—_The Upshot_. + +INSTRUCTIVE and interesting though it may be to inquire into the haunts +and habits of these wretched waifs and “rank outsiders” of humanity, of +how much importance and of useful purpose is it to dig yet a little +deeper and discover who are the parents—the mothers especially—of these +babes of the gutter. + +Clearly they had no business there at all. A human creature, and more +than all, a _helpless_ human creature, endowed with the noblest shape of +God’s creation, and with a soul to save or lose, is as much out of place +grovelling in filth and contamination as would be a wild cat crouching on +the hearth-rug of a nursery. How come they there, then? Although not +bred absolutely in the kennel, many merge into life so very near the edge +of it, that it is no wonder if even their infantine kickings and +sprawlings are enough to topple them over. Some there are, not vast in +number, perhaps, but of a character to influence the whole, who are +dropped into the gutter from such a height that they may never crawl out +of it—they are so sorely crippled. Others, again, find their way to the +gutter by means of a process identical with that which serves the +conveyance to sinks and hidden sewers of the city’s ordinary refuse and +off-scourings. Of this last-mentioned sort, however, it will be +necessary to treat at length presently. + +I think that it may be taken as granted that gross and deliberate +immorality is not mainly responsible for our gutter population. Neither +can the poverty of the nation be justly called on to answer for it. On +the contrary, unless I am greatly mistaken, the main tributary to the +foul stream has its fountain-head in the keen-witted, ready-penny +commercial enterprise of the small-capital, business-minded portion of +our vast community. + +In no respect are we so unlike our forefathers as in our struggles after +“mastership” in business, however petty. This may be a sign of +commercial progress amongst us, but it is doubtful if it tends very much +to the healthful constitution of our humanity. “Work hard and win a +fortune,” has become a dry and mouldy maxim, distasteful to modern +traders, and has yielded to one that is much smarter, viz., “There is +more got by scheming than by hard work.” + +By scheming the labour of others, that is; little children—anyone. It is +in the infant labour market especially that this new and dashing spirit +of commercial enterprise exercises itself chiefly. There are many kinds +of labour that require no application of muscular strength; all that is +requisite is dexterity and lightness of touch, and these with most +children are natural gifts. They are better fitted for the work they are +set to than adults would be, while the latter would require as wages +shillings where the little ones are content with pence. This, perhaps, +would be tolerable if their earnings increased with their years; but such +an arrangement does not come within the scheme of the sweaters and +slop-factors, Jew and Christian, who grind the bones of little children +to make them not only bread, but luxurious living and country houses, and +carriages to ride in. When their “hands” cease to be children, these +enterprising tradesmen no longer require their services, and they are +discharged to make room for a new batch of small toilers, eager to engage +themselves on terms that the others have learned to despise, while those +last-mentioned unfortunates are cast adrift to win their bread—somehow. + +Anyone curious to know the sort of working young female alluded to may be +gratified a hundred times over any day of the week, if he will take the +trouble to post himself, between the hours of twelve and two, at the foot +of London or Blackfriars bridge. There he will see the young girl of the +slop-shop and the city “warehouse” hurrying homeward on the chance of +finding a meagre makeshift—“something hot”—that may serve as a dinner. + +It is a sight well worth the seeking of any philanthropic person +interested in the present condition and possible future of the infant +labour market. How much or how little of truth there may be in the +lament one occasionally hears, that our endurance is failing us, and that +we seldom reach the ripe old age attained by our ancestors, we will not +here discuss; at least there can be no doubt of this—that we grow old +much earlier than did our great grandfathers; and though our “three-score +years and ten” may be shortened by fifteen or twenty years, the downhill +portion of our existence is at least as protracted as that of the hale +men of old who could leap a gate at sixty. This must be so, otherwise +the ancient law, defining an infant as “a person under the age of +fourteen,” could never have received the sanction of legislators. Make +note of these “infants” of the law as they come in knots of two and +three, and sometimes in an unbroken “gang,” just as they left the +factory, putting their best feet foremost in a match against time; for +all that is allowed them is one hour, and within that limited period they +have to walk perhaps a couple of miles to and fro, resting only during +that brief space in which it is their happy privilege to exercise their +organs of mastication. + +Good times indeed were those olden ones, if for no other reason than that +they knew not such infants as these! Of the same stuff in the main, one +and all, but by no means of the same pattern. Haggard, weary-eyed +infants, who never could have been babies; little slips of things, whose +heads are scarcely above the belt of the burly policeman lounging out his +hours of duty on the bridge, but who have a brow on which, in lines +indelible, are scored a dreary account of the world’s hard dealings with +them. Painfully puckered mouths have these, and an air of such sad, sage +experience, that one might fancy, not that these were young people who +would one day grow to be old women, but rather that, by some inversion of +the natural order of things, they had once been old and were growing +young again—that they had seen seventy, at least, but had doubled on the +brow of the hill of age, instead of crossing it, and retraced their +steps, until they arrived back again at thirteen; the old, old heads +planted on the young shoulders revealing the secret. + +This, the most melancholy type of the grown-up neglected infant, is, +however, by no means the most painful of those that come trooping past in +such a mighty hurry. Some are dogged and sullen-looking, and appear as +though steeped to numbness in the comfortless doctrine, “What can’t be +cured must be endured;” as if they had acquired a certain sort of surly +relish for the sours of existence, and partook of them as a matter of +course, without even a wry face. These are not of the sort that excite +our compassion the most; neither are the ailing and sickly-looking little +girls, whose tender constitutions have broken down under pressure of the +poison inhaled in the crowded workroom, and long hours, and countless +trudgings, early and late, in the rain and mire, with no better covering +for their shoulders than a flimsy mantle a shower would wet through and +through, and a wretched pair of old boots that squelch on the pavement as +they walk. Pitiful as are these forlorn ones to behold, there is, at +least, a grim satisfaction in knowing that with them it cannot last. The +creature who causes us most alarm is a girl of a very different type. + +This is the flashy, flaunting “infant,” barely fourteen, and with scarce +four feet of stature, but self-possessed and bold-eyed enough to be a +“daughter of the regiment”—of a militia regiment even. She consorts with +birds of her own feather. Very little experience enables one to tell at +a glance almost how these girls are employed, and it is quite evident +that the terrible infant in question and her companions are engaged in +the manufacture of artificial flowers. Their teeth are discoloured, and +there is a chafed and chilblainish appearance about their nostrils, as +though suffering under a malady that were best consoled with a +pocket-handkerchief. The symptoms in question, however, are caused by +the poison used in their work—arsenite of copper, probably, that deadly +mineral being of a “lovely green,” and much in favour amongst artificial +florists and their customers. Here they come, unabashed by the throng, +as though the highway were their home, and all mankind their brothers; +she, the heroine with a bold story to tell, and plenty of laughter and +free gesticulation as sauce with it. She is of the sort, and, God help +them! they may be counted by hundreds in London alone, in whom keen wit +would appear to be developed simultaneously with ability to walk and +talk. Properly trained, these are the girls that grow to be clever, +capable women—women of spirit and courage and shrewd discernment. The +worst of it is that the seed implanted will germinate. Hunger cannot +starve it to death, or penurious frosts destroy it. Untrained, it grows +apace, overturning and strangling all opposition and asserting its +paramount importance. + +This is the girl who is the bane and curse of the workroom crowded with +juvenile stitchers or pasters, or workers in flowers or beads. Her +constant assumption of lightheartedness draws them towards her, her +lively stories are a relief from the monotonous drudgery they are engaged +on. Old and bold in petty wickedness, and with audacious pretensions to +acquaintance with vice of a graver sort, she entertains them with stories +of “sprees” and “larks” she and her friends have indulged in. She has +been to “plays” and to “dancing rooms,” and to the best of her ability +and means she demonstrates the latest fashion in her own attire, and +wears her draggletail flinders of lace and ribbon in such an easy and +old-fashionable manner, poor little wretch, as to impress one with the +conviction that she must have been used to this sort of thing since the +time of her shortcoating; which must have been many, many years ago. She +has money to spend; not much, but sufficient for the purchase of +luxuries, the consumption of which inflict cruel pangs on the hungry-eyed +beholders. She is a person whose intimacy is worth cultivating, and they +do cultivate it, with what result need not be here described. + +At fifteen the London factory-bred girl in her vulgar way has the worldly +knowledge of the ordinary female of eighteen or twenty. She has her +“young man,” and accompanies him of evenings to “sing-songs” and raffles, +and on high days and holidays to Hampton by the shilling van, or to +Greenwich by the sixpenny boat. At sixteen she wearies of the +frivolities of sweethearting, and the young man being agreeable the pair +embark in housekeeping, and “settle down.” + +Perhaps they marry, and be it distinctly understood, whatever has been +said to the contrary, the estate of matrimony amongst her class is not +lightly esteemed. On the contrary, it is a contract in which so much +pride is taken that the certificate attesting its due performance is not +uncommonly displayed on the wall of the living-room as a choice print or +picture might be; with this singular and unaccountable distinction that +when a _clock_ is reckoned with the other household furniture, the +marriage certificate is almost invariably hung under it. It was Mr. +Catlin of the Cow Cross Mission who first drew my attention to this +strange observance, and in our many explorations into the horrible courts +and alleys in the vicinity of his mission-house he frequently pointed out +instances of this strange custom; but even he, who is as learned in the +habits and customs of all manner of outcasts of civilisation as any man +living, was unable to explain its origin. When questioned on the subject +the common answer was, “They say that it’s lucky.” + +It is the expense attending the process that makes matrimony the +exception and not the rule amongst these people. At least this is their +invariable excuse. And here, as bearing directly on the question of +“neglected infants,” I may make mention of a practice that certain +well-intentioned people are adopting with a view to diminishing the +prevalent sin of the unmarried sexes herding in their haunts of poverty, +and living together as man and wife. + +The said practice appears sound enough on the surface. It consists +simply in marrying these erring couples gratis. The missionary or +scripture reader of the district who, as a rule, is curiously intimate +with the family affairs of his flock, calls privately on those young +people whose clock, if they have one, ticks to a barren wall, and makes +the tempting offer—banns put up, service performed, beadle and pew opener +satisfied, and all free! As will not uncommonly happen, if driven into a +corner for an excuse, the want of a jacket or a gown “to make a +’spectable ’pearance in” is pleaded; the negociator makes a note of it, +and in all probability the difficulty is provided against, and in due +course the marriage is consummated. + +This is all very well as far as it goes, but to my way of thinking the +scheme is open to many grave objections. In the first place the instinct +that incites people to herd like cattle in a lair is scarcely the same as +induces them to blend their fortunes and live “for better, for worse” +till the end of their life. It requires no great depth of affection on +the man’s part to lead him to take up with a woman who, in consideration +of board and lodging and masculine protection will create some semblance +of a home for him. In his selection of such a woman he is not governed +by those grave considerations that undoubtedly present themselves to his +mind when he meditates wedding himself irrevocably to a mate. Her +history, previous to his taking up with her, may be known to him, and +though perhaps not all that he could wish, she is as good to him as she +promised to be, and they get along pretty well and don’t quarrel very +much. + +Now, although not one word can be urged in favour of this iniquitous and +shocking arrangement, is it quite certain that a great good is achieved +by inducing such a couple to tie themselves together in the sacred bonds +of matrimony? It is not a marriage of choice as all marriages should be. +If the pair had been bent on church marriage and earnestly desired it, it +is absurd to suppose that the few necessary shillings, the price of its +performance, would have deterred them. If they held the sacred ceremony +of so small account as to regard it as well dispensed with as adopted, it +is no very great triumph of the cause of religion and morality that the +balance is decided by a gown or a jacket, in addition to the good will of +the missionary (who, by-the-bye, is generally the distributor of the alms +of the charitable) being thrown into the scale. + +To be sure the man is not compelled to yield to the persuasions of those +who would make of him a creditable member of society; he is not compelled +to it, but he can hardly be regarded as a free agent. If the pair have +children already, the woman will be only too anxious to second the +solicitation of her friend, and so secure to herself legal protection in +addition to that that is already secured to her through her mate’s +acquired regard for her. Then it is so difficult to combat the simple +question, “Why not?” when all is so generously arranged—even to the +providing a real gold ring to be worn in place of the common brass +make-believe—and nothing remains but to step round to the parish church, +where the minister is waiting, and where in a quarter of an hour, the +great, and good, and lasting work may be accomplished. The well-meaning +missionary asks, “Why not?” The woman, urged by moral or mercenary +motives, echoes the momentous query, and both stand with arms presented, +in a manner of speaking, to hear the wavering one’s objection. The +wavering one is not generally of the far-seeing sort. In his heart he +does not care as much as a shilling which way it is. He does not in the +least trouble himself from the religious and moral point of view. When +his adviser says, “Just consider how much easier your conscience will be +if you do this act of justice to the woman whom you have selected as your +helpmate,” he wags his head as though admitting it, but having no +conscience about the matter he is not very deeply impressed. Nine times +out of ten the summing-up of his deliberation is, “I don’t care; it won’t +cost _me_ nothing; let ’em have their way.” + +But what, probably, is the upshot of the good missionary’s endeavours and +triumph? In a very little time the gilt with which the honest adviser +glossed the chain that was to bind the man irrevocably to marriage and +morality wears off. The sweat of his brow will not keep it bright; it +rusts it. He feels, in his own vulgar though expressive language, that +he has been “bustled” into a bad bargain. “It is like this ’ere,” a +matrimonial victim of the class once confided to me; “I don’t say as she +isn’t as good as ever, but I’m blowed if she’s all that better as I was +kidded to believe she would be.” + +“But if she is as good as ever, she is good enough.” + +“Yes, but you haven’t quite got the bearing of what I mean, sir, and I +haint got it in me to put it in the words like you would. Good enough +before isn’t good enough now, cos it haint hoptional, don’t you see? No, +you don’t. Well, look here. S’pose I borrer a barrer. Well, it’s good +enough and a conwenient size for laying out my stock on it. It goes +pooty easy, and I pays eighteen pence a week for it and I’m satisfied. +Well, I goes on all right and without grumbling, till some chap he ses to +me, ‘What call have you got to borrer a barrer when you can have one of +your own; you alwis _want_ a barrer, don’t you know, why not make this +one your own?’ ‘Cos I can’t spare the money,’ I ses. ‘Oh,’ he ses, +‘I’ll find the money and the barrer’s yourn, if so be as you’ll promise +and vow to take up with no other barrer, but stick to this one so long as +you both shall live.’ Well, as aforesaid, it’s a tidy, useful barrer, +and I agrees. But soon as it’s _mine_, don’t you know, I ain’t quite so +careless about it. I overhauls it, in a manner of speaking, and I’m more +keerful in trying the balance of it in hand when the load’s on it. Well, +maybe I find out what I never before troubled myself to look for. +There’s a screw out here and a bolt wanted there. Here it’s weak, and +there it’s ugly. I dwells on it in my mind constant. I’ve never got +that there barrer out of my head, and p’raps I make too much of the weak +pints of it. I gets to mistrust it. ‘It’s all middling right, just now, +old woman—old barrer, I mean,’ I ses to myself, ‘but you’ll be a playing +me a trick one day, I’m afraid.’ Well, I go on being afraid, which I +shouldn’t be if I was only a borrower.” + +“But you should not forget that the barrow, to adopt your own ungallant +figure of speech, is not accountable for these dreads and suspicions of +yours; it will last you as long and as well as though you had continued a +borrower; you will admit that, at least!” + +“I don’t know. _Last_, yes! That’s the beggaring part of it. Ah, well! +p’raps it’s all right, but I’m blest if I can stand being haunted like I +am now.” + +Nothing that I could say would add force to the argument of my +costermonger friend, as set forth in his parable of the “barrer.” +Applying it to the question under discussion, I do not mean to attribute +to the deceptiveness of the barrow or to its premature breaking down, the +spilling into the gutter of all the unhappy children there discovered. +My main reason for admitting the evidence in question was to endeavour to +show that as a pet means of improving the morality of our courts and +alleys, and consequently of diminishing the gutter population, the modern +idea of arresting fornication and concubinage, by dragging the pair there +and then to church, and making them man and wife, is open to serious +objections. The state of matrimony is not good for such folk. It was +never intended for them. It may be as necessary to healthful life as +eating is, but no one would think of taking a man starved, and in the +last extremity for lack of wholesome aliment, and setting before him a +great dish of solid food. It may be good for him by-and-by, but he must +be brought along by degrees, and fitted for it. Undoubtedly a great +source of our abandoned gutter children may be found in the shocking +herding together of the sexes in the vile “slums” and back places of +London, and it is to be sincerely hoped that some wise man will presently +devise a speedy preventive. + +In a recent report made to the Commissioners of Sewers for London, Dr. +Letheby says: “I have been at much pains during the last three months to +ascertain the precise conditions of the dwellings, the habits, and the +diseases of the poor. In this way 2,208 rooms have been most +circumstantially inspected, and the general result is that nearly all of +them are filthy or overcrowded or imperfectly drained, or badly +ventilated, or out of repair. In 1,989 of these rooms, all in fact that +are at present inhabited, there are 5,791 inmates, belonging to 1,576 +families; and to say nothing of the too frequent occurrence of what may +be regarded as a necessitous overcrowding, where the husband, the wife, +and young family of four or five children are cramped into a miserably +small and ill-conditioned room, there are numerous instances where adults +of both sexes, belonging to different families, are lodged in the same +room, regardless of all the common decencies of life, and where from +three to five adults, men and women, besides a train or two of children, +are accustomed to herd together like brute beasts or savages; and where +every human instinct of propriety and decency is smothered. Like my +predecessor, I have seen grown persons of both sexes sleeping in common +with their parents, brothers and sisters, and cousins, and even the +casual acquaintance of a day’s tramp, occupying the same bed of filthy +rags or straw; a woman suffering in travail, in the midst of males and +females of different families that tenant the same room, where birth and +death go hand in hand; where the child but newly born, the patient cast +down with fever, and the corpse waiting for interment, have no separation +from each other, or from the rest of the inmates. Of the many cases to +which I have alluded, there are some which have commanded my attention by +reason of their unusual depravity—cases in which from three to four +adults of both sexes, with many children, were lodging in the same room, +and often sleeping in the same bed. I have note of three or four +localities, where forty-eight men, seventy-three women, and fifty-nine +children are living in thirty-four rooms. In one room there are two men, +three women, and five children, and in another one man, four women, and +two children; and when, about a fortnight since, I visited the back room +on the ground floor of No. 5, I found it occupied by one man, two women, +and two children; and in it was the dead body of a poor girl who had died +in childbirth a few days before. The body was stretched out on the bare +floor, without shroud or coffin. There it lay in the midst of the +living, and we may well ask how it can be otherwise than that the human +heart should be dead to all the gentler feelings of our nature, when such +sights as these are of common occurrence. + +“So close and unwholesome is the atmosphere of some of these rooms, that +I have endeavoured to ascertain, by chemical means, whether it does not +contain some peculiar product of decomposition that gives to it its foul +odour and its rare powers of engendering disease. I find it is not only +deficient in the due proportion of oxygen, but it contains three times +the usual amount of carbonic acid, besides a quantity of aqueous vapour +charged with alkaline matter that stinks abominably. This is doubtless +the product of putrefaction, and of the various fœtid and stagnant +exhalations that pollute the air of the place. In many of my former +reports, and in those of my predecessor, your attention has been drawn to +this pestilential source of disease, and to the consequence of heaping +human beings into such contracted localities; and I again revert to it +because of its great importance, not merely that it perpetuates fever and +the allied disorders, but because there stalks side by side with this +pestilence a yet deadlier presence, blighting the moral existence of a +rising population, rendering their hearts hopeless, their acts ruffianly +and incestuous, and scattering, while society averts her eye, the +retributive seeds of increase for crime, turbulence and pauperism.” + + + +CHAPTER III. +BABY-FARMING. + + +“_Baby-Farmers_” _and Advertising_ “_Child Adopters_.”—“_F. X._” _of +Stepney_.—_The Author’s Interview with Farmer Oxleek_.—_The Case of Baby +Frederick Wood_. + +ALTHOUGH it is not possible, in a book of moderate dimensions, such as +this, to treat the question of neglected children with that extended care +and completeness it undoubtedly deserves, any attempt at its +consideration would be glaringly deficient did it not include some +reference to the modern and murderous institution known as “baby +farming.” + +We may rely on it that we are lamentably ignorant both of the gigantic +extent and the pernicious working of this mischief. It is only when some +loud-crying abuse of the precious system makes itself heard in our +criminal courts, and is echoed in the newspapers, or when some +adventurous magazine writer in valiant pursuit of his avocation, directs +his inquisitive nose in the direction indicated, that the public at large +hear anything either of the farmer or the farmed. + +A year or so ago a most atrocious child murder attracted towards this +ugly subject the bull’s-eye beams of the press, and for some time it was +held up and exhibited in all its nauseating nakedness. It may be safely +asserted that during the protracted trial of the child murderess, Mrs. +Winser, there was not one horrified father or mother in England who did +not in terms of severest indignation express his or her opinion of how +abominable it was that such scandalous traffic in baby flesh and blood +should, through the law’s inefficiency, be rendered possible. But it was +only while we, following the revolting revelations, were subject to a +succession of shocks and kept in pain, that we were thus virtuous. It +was only while our tender feelings were suffering excruciation from the +harrowing story of baby torture that we shook in wrath against the +torturer. Considering what our sufferings were (and from the manner of +our crying out they must have been truly awful) we recovered with a speed +little short of miraculous. Barely was the trial of the murderess +concluded and the court cleared, than our fierce indignation subsided +from its bubbling and boiling, and quickly settled down to calm and +ordinary temperature. Nay it is hardly too much to say that our +over-wrought sympathies as regards baby neglect and murder fell so cold +and flat that little short of a second edition of Herod’s massacre might +be required to raise them again. + +This is the unhappy fate that attends nearly all our great social +grievances. They are overlooked or shyly glanced at and kicked aside for +years and years, when suddenly a stray spark ignites their smouldering +heaps, and the eager town cooks a splendid supper of horrors at the gaudy +conflagration; but having supped full, there ensues a speedy distaste for +flame and smoke, and in his heart every one is chiefly anxious that the +fire may burn itself out, or that some kind hand will smother it. “We +have had enough of it.” That is the phrase. The only interest we ever +had in it, which was nothing better than a selfish and theatrical +interest, is exhausted. We enjoyed the bonfire amazingly, but we have no +idea of tucking back our coat-sleeves and handling a shovel or a pick to +explore the unsavoury depth and origin of the flareup, and dig and dam to +guard against a repetition of it. It is sufficient for us that we have +endured without flinching the sensational horrors dragged to light; let +those who dragged them forth bury them again; or kill them; or be killed +by them. We have had enough of them. + +Great social grievances are not to be taken by storm. They merely bow +their vile heads while the wrathful blast passes, and regain their +original position immediately afterwards. So it was with this business +of baby-farming, and the tremendous outcry raised at the time when the +wretch Winser was brought to trial. There are certain newspapers in +whose advertisement columns the baby-farmer advertises for “live stock” +constantly, and at the time it was observed with great triumph by certain +people that since the vile hag’s detection the advertisements in question +had grown singularly few and mild. But the hope that the baby-farmer had +retired, regarding his occupation as gone, was altogether delusive. He +was merely lying quiet for a spell, quite at his ease, making no doubt +that business would stir again presently. Somebody else was doing his +advertising, that was all. If he had had any reasonable grounds for +supposing that the results of the appalling facts brought to light would +be that the Legislature would bestir itself and take prompt and +efficacious steps towards abolishing him, it would have been different. +But he had too much confidence in the sluggardly law to suppose anything +of the kind. He knew that the details of the doings of himself and his +fellows would presently sicken those who for a time had evinced a relish +for them, and that in a short time they would bid investigators and +newspapers say no more—they had had enough of it! When his sagacity was +verified, he found his way leisurely back to the advertising columns +again. + +I have spoken of the baby-farmers as masculine, but that was merely for +convenience of metaphor. No doubt that the male sex have a considerable +interest in the trade, but the negociators, and ostensibly the +proprietors, are women. As I write, one of the said newspapers lies +before me. It is a daily paper, and its circulation, an extensive one, +is essentially amongst the working classes, _especially amongst working +girls and women_. + +The words italicised are worthy particular attention as regards this +particular part of my subject. Here is a daily newspaper that is mainly +an advertising broadsheet. It is an old-established newspaper, and its +advertisement columns may be said fairly to reflect the condition of the +female labour market over vast tracts of the London district. Column +after column tells of the wants of servants and masters. “Cap-hands,” +“feather-hands,” “artificial flower-hands,” “chenille-hands,” hands for +the manufacture of “chignons” and “hair-nets” and “bead work,” and all +manner of “plaiting” and “quilling” and “gauffering” in ribbon and net +and muslin, contributing towards the thousand and one articles that stock +the “fancy” trade. There are more newspapers than one that aspire as +mediums between employers and employed, but this, before all others, is +_the_ newspaper, daily conned by thousands of girls and women in search +of work of the kind above mentioned, and it is in this newspaper that the +baby-farmer fishes wholesale for customers. + +I write “wholesale,” and surely it is nothing else. To the uninitiated +in this peculiar branch of the world’s wickedness it would seem that, as +an article of negociation, a baby would figure rarer than anything, and +in their innocence they might be fairly guided to this conclusion on the +evidence of their personal experience of the unflinching love of parents, +though never so poor, for their children; yet in a single number of this +newspaper published every day of the week and all the year round, be it +borne in mind, appear no less than _eleven_ separate advertisements, +emanating from individuals solicitous for the care, weekly, monthly, +yearly—anyhow, of other people’s children, and that on terms odorous of +starvation at the least in every meagre figure. + +It is evident at a glance that the advertisers seek for customers and +expect none other than from among the sorely pinched and poverty-stricken +class that specially patronise the newspaper in question. The +complexion, tone, and terms of their villanously cheap suggestions for +child adoption are most cunningly shaped to meet the possible +requirements of some unfortunate work-girl, who, earning while at liberty +never more than seven or eight shillings a week, finds herself hampered +with an infant for whom no father is forthcoming. There can scarcely be +imagined a more terrible encumbrance than a young baby is to a working +girl or woman so circumstanced. Very often she has a home before her +disaster announced itself—her first home, that is, with her parents—and +in her shame and disgrace she abandons it, determined on hiding away +where she is unknown, “keeping herself to herself.” She has no other +means of earning a livelihood excepting that she has been used to. She +is a “cap-hand,” or an “artificial flower-hand,” and such work is always +entirely performed at the warehouse immediately under the employer’s eye. +What is she to do? She cannot possibly carry her baby with her to the +shop and keep it with her the livelong day. Were she inclined so to do, +and could somehow contrive to accomplish the double duty of nurse and +flower-weaver, it would not be allowed. If she stays at home in the +wretched little room she rents with her infant she and it must go hungry. +It is a terrible dilemma for a young woman “all but” good, and honestly +willing to accept the grievous penalty she must pay if it may be +accomplished by the labour of her hands. Small and puny, however, the +poor unwelcome little stranger may be, it is a perfect ogre of rapacity +on its unhappy mother’s exertions. Now and then an instance of the +self-sacrificing devotion exhibited by those unhappy mothers for their +fatherless children creeps into print. There was held in the parish of +St. Luke’s, last summer, an inquest on the body of a neglected infant, +aged seven months. The woman to whose care she was confided had got +drunk, and left the poor little thing exposed to the cold, so that it +died. The mother paid the drunken nurse four-and-sixpence a week for the +child’s keep, and it was proved in evidence that she (the mother) had +been earning at her trade of paper-bag making never more than +six-and-threepence per week during the previous five months. That was +four-and-sixpence for baby and _one-and-ninepence_ for herself. + +I don’t think, however, that the regular baby-farmer is a person +habitually given to drink. The successful and lucrative prosecution of +her business forbids the indulgence. Decidedly not one of the eleven +advertisements before mentioned read like the concoctions of persons +whose heads were muddled with beer or gin. Here is the first one:— + + NURSE CHILD WANTED, OR TO ADOPT.—The Advertiser, a Widow with a + little family of her own, and a moderate allowance from her late + husband’s friends, would be glad to accept the charge of a young + child. Age no object. If sickly would receive a parent’s care. + Terms, Fifteen Shillings a month; or would adopt entirely if under + two months for the small sum of Twelve pounds. + +Women are shrewder than men at understanding these matters, and the +advertisement is addressed to women; but I doubt if a man would be far +wrong in setting down the “widow lady with a little family of her own,” +as one of those monsters in woman’s clothing who go about seeking for +babies to devour. Her “moderate allowance,” so artlessly introduced, is +intended to convey to the unhappy mother but half resolved to part with +her encumbrance, that possibly the widow’s late husband’s friends settle +her butcher’s and baker’s bills, and that under such circumstances the +widow would actually be that fifteen shillings a month in pocket, for the +small trouble of entering the little stranger with her own interesting +little flock. And what a well-bred, cheerful, and kindly-behaved little +flock it must be, to have no objection to add to its number a young child +aged one month or twelve, sick or well! Fancy such an estimable person +as the widow lady appraising her parental care at so low a figure as +three-and-ninepence a week—sevenpence farthing a day, including Sundays! +But, after all, that is not so cheap as the taking the whole and sole +charge of a child, sick or well, mind you, to nourish and clothe, and +educate it from the age of two months till twelve years, say! To be +sure, the widow lady stipulates that the child she is ready to “adopt” +must be under two months, and we all know how precarious is infantine +existence, and at what a wonderfully low rate the cheap undertakers bury +babies in these days. + +Another of the precious batch of eleven speaks plainer, and comes to the +point without any preliminary walking round it:— + + ADOPTION.—A person wishing a lasting and comfortable home for a young + child of either sex will find this a good opportunity. Advertisers + having no children of their own are about to proceed to America. + Premium, Fifteen pounds. Respectable references given and required. + Address F. X—. + +All that is incomplete in the above is the initials; but one need not ask +for the “O” that should come between the “F” and “X.” After perusing the +pithy advertisement, I interpreted its meaning simply this:—Any person +possessed of a child he is anxious to be rid of, here is a good chance +for him. Perhaps “F. X.” is going to America; perhaps he’s not. That is +_his_ business. The party having a child to dispose of, need not trouble +itself on that score. For “respectable references” read “mutual +confidence.” I’ll take the child, and ask no questions of the party, and +the party shall fork over the fifteen pounds, and ask no questions of me. +That will make matters comfortable for both parties, ’specially if the +meeting is at a coffee-house, or at some public building, for if I don’t +know the party’s address, of course he can have no fear that I shall turn +round on him, and return the child on his hands. The whole affair might +be managed while an omnibus is waiting to take up a passenger. A simple +matter of handing over a bulky parcel and a little one—the child and the +money—and all over, without so much as “good night,” if so be the party +is a careful party, and wouldn’t like even his voice heard. + +It may be objected that the seduced factory girl is scarcely likely to +become the victim of “F. X.,” inasmuch as she never had fifteen pounds to +call her own in the whole course of her life, and is less likely than +ever to grow so rich now. And that is quite true, but as well as a +seduced, there must be a seducer. Not a man of position and means, +probably; more likely the fast young son of parents in the butchering, or +cheesemongering, or grocery interest—a dashing young blade, whose ideas +of “seeing life” is seeking that unwholesome phase of it presented at +those unmitigated dens of vice, the “music halls,” at one of which +places, probably, the acquaintance terminating so miserably, was +commenced. Or, may be, instead of the “young master,” it is the shopman +who is the male delinquent; and, in either case, anything is preferable +to a “row,” and an exposure. Possibly the embarrassed young mother, by +stress of necessity, and imperfect faith in the voluntary goodness of her +lover, is driven to make the best of the defensive weapons that chance +has thus placed in her hands, and her urging for “some little assistance” +becomes troublesome. This being the case, and the devil stepping in with +“F. X.’s” advertisement in his hand, the difficulty is immediately +reduced to one of raising fifteen pounds. No more hourly anxiety lest +“something should turn up” to explode the secret under the very nose of +parents or master, no more restrictions from amusements loved so well +because of a dread lest that pale-faced baby-carrying young woman should +intrude her reproachful presence, and her tears, into their midst. Only +one endeavour—a big one, it is true, but still, only one—and the ugly +ghost is laid at once and for ever! Perhaps the young fellow has friends +of whom he can borrow the money. May be he has a watch, and articles of +clothing and jewellery, that will pawn for the amount. If he has +neither, still he is not entirely without resources. Music-halls and +dancing-rooms cannot be patronised on bare journeyman’s wages, and +probably already the till has bled slightly—let it bleed more copiously! +And the theft is perpetrated, and “F. X.” releases the guilty pair of the +little creature that looks in its helplessness and innocence so little +like a bugbear. And it isn’t at all unlikely that, after all, papa +regards himself as a fellow deserving of condemnation, perhaps, but +entitled to some pity, and, still more, of approval for his +self-sacrificing. Another fellow, finding himself in such a fix, would +have snapped his fingers in Polly’s face, and told her to do her worst, +and be hanged to her; but, confound it all, he was not such a brute as +_that_. Having got the poor girl into trouble, he had done all he could +to get her out of it—clean out of it, mind you. Not only had he done all +that he could towards this generous end, but considerably more than he +ought; he had risked exposure as a thief, and the penalty of the +treadmill, and all for her sake! And so thick-skinned is the young +fellow’s morality, that possibly he is really not aware of the +double-dyed villain he has become; that to strip his case of the specious +wrappings in which he would envelop it, he is nothing better than a mean +scoundrel who has stooped to till-robbery in order to qualify himself as +an accessory to child murder, or worse—the casting of his own offspring, +like a mangy dog, on the streets, to die in a gutter, or to live and grow +up to be a terror to his kind—a ruffian, and a breeder of ruffians. Nor +need it be supposed that this last is a mere fancy sketch. There can be +no doubt that if the history of every one of the ten thousand of the +young human pariahs that haunt London streets could be inquired into, it +would be found that no insignificant percentage of the whole were +children abandoned and left to their fate by mock “adopters,” such as “F. +X.” + +It is these “adopters” of children who should be specially looked after, +since, assuming that heartless roguery is the basis of their business +dealing, it becomes at once manifest that their main source of profit +must lie in their ability to get rid of their hard bargains as soon as +possible. From fifteen to five-and-twenty pounds would appear to be the +sums usually asked, and having once got possession of the child, every +day that the mockery of a _bonâ fide_ bargain is maintained, the value of +the blood-money that came with it diminishes. The term “blood-money,” +however, should be accepted in a qualified sense. It is quite common for +these people to mention as one of the conditions of treaty that a sickly +child would not be objected to, and provided it were very sickly, it +might in ordinary cases have a fair chance of dying a natural death; but +the course commonly pursued by the professional childmonger is not to +murder it either by sudden and violent means, or by the less merciful +though no less sure process of cold, neglect, and starvation. Not only +does death made public (and in these wide-awake times it is not easy to +hide a body, though a little one, where it may not speedily be found) +attract an amount of attention that were best avoided, but it also +entails the expenses of burial. A much easier way of getting rid of a +child,—especially if it be of that convenient age when it is able to walk +but not to talk, is to convey it to a strange quarter of the town and +there abandon it. + +And there is something else in connection with this painful phase of the +question of neglected children that should not be lost sight of. It must +not be supposed that every child abandoned in the streets is discovered +by the police and finds its way first to the station-house, and finally +to the workhouse. Very many of them, especially if they are +pretty-looking and engaging children, are voluntarily adopted by +strangers. It might not be unreasonably imagined that this can only be +the case when the cruel abandonment takes place in a neighbourhood +chiefly inhabited by well-to-do people. And well would it be for the +community at large if this supposition were the correct one; then there +would be a chance that the poor neglected little waif would be well cared +for and preserved against the barbarous injustice of being compelled to +fight for his food even before he had shed his milk-teeth. But wonderful +as it may seem, it is not in well-to-do quarters that the utterly +abandoned child finds protection, but in quarters that are decidedly the +worst to do, and that, unfortunately, in every possible respect than any +within the city’s limits. The tender consideration of poverty for its +kind is a phase of humanity that might be studied both with instruction +and profit by those who, through their gold-rimmed spectacles regard +deprivation from meat and clothes and the other good things of this world +as involving a corresponding deficiency of virtue and generosity. They +have grown so accustomed to associate cherubs with chubbiness, and +chubbiness with high respectability and rich gravies, that they would, if +such a thing were possible, scarcely be seen conversing with an angel of +bony and vulgar type. Nevertheless, it is an undoubted fact, that for +one child taken from the streets in the highly respectable West-end, and +privately housed and taken care of, there might be shown fifty who have +found open door and lasting entertainment in the most poverty-stricken +haunts of London. + +In haunts of vice too, in hideous localities inhabited solely by loose +women and thieves. Bad as these people are, they will not deny a hungry +child. It is curious the extent to which this lingering of nature’s +better part remains with these “bad women.” Love for little children in +these poor creatures seems unconquerable. It would appear as though +conscious of the extreme depth of degradation to which they have fallen, +and of the small amount of sympathy that remains between them and the +decent world, they were anxious to hold on yet a little longer, although +by so slender a thread as unreasoning childhood affords. As everyone can +attest, whose duty it has been to explore even the most notorious sinks +of vice and criminality, it is quite common to meet with pretty little +children, mere infants of three or four years old, who are the pets and +toys of the inhabitants, especially of the women. The frequent answer to +the inquiry, “Who does the child belong to?” is, “Oh, he’s anybody’s +child,” which sometimes means that it is the offspring of one of the +fraternity who has died or is now in prison, but more often that he is a +“stray” who is fed and harboured there simply because nobody owns him. + +But as may be easily understood, the reign of “pets” of this sort is of +limited duration. By the time the curly-headed little boy of four years +old grows to be six, he must indeed be an inapt scholar if his two years’ +attendance at such a school has not turned his artless simplicity into +mischievous cunning, and his “pretty ways” into those that are both +audacious and tiresome. Then clubbing takes the place of caressing, and +the child is gradually left to shift for himself, and we meet him shortly +afterwards an active and intelligent nuisance, snatching his hard-earned +crust out of the mire as a crossing sweeper, fusee, or penny-paper +selling boy, or else more evilly inclined, he joins other companions and +takes up the trade of a whining beggar. Even at that tender age his eyes +are opened to the ruinous fact that as much may be got by stealing as by +working, and he “tails on,” a promising young beginner, to the army of +twenty thousand professional thieves that exact black mail in London. + +Supposing it to be true, and for my part I sincerely believe it, that the +ranks of neglected children who eventually become thieves, are recruited +in great part from the castaways of the mock child adopter, then is +solved the puzzle how it is that among a class the origin of almost every +member of which can be traced back to the vilest neighbourhood of +brutishness and ignorance, so many individuals of more than the average +intellect are discovered. Any man who has visited a reformatory for boys +must have observed this. Let him go into the juvenile ward or the +school-room of a workhouse, either in town or country, and he will find +four-fifths of the lads assembled wearing the same heavy stolid look, +indicative of the same desperate resignation to the process of learning +than which for them could hardly be devised a punishment more severe. +But amongst a very large proportion of the boys who have been rescued not +merely from the gutter but out of the very jaws of the criminal law, and +bestowed in our reformatories, how different is their aspect! +Quick-witted, ready of comprehension, bold-eyed, shrewdly-observant, one +cannot but feel that it is a thousand pities that such boys should be +driven to this harbour of refuge—that so much good manhood material +should come so nigh to being wrecked. But how is it that with no more +promising nurses than squalor and ignorance the boys of the reformatory +should show so much superior to the boys whom a national institution, +such as a workhouse is, has adopted, and had all to do with since their +infancy? The theory that many of the boys who by rapid steps in crime +find their way to a reformatory, are bastard children, for whose +safe-keeping the baby farmer was once briefly responsible, goes far +towards solving the riddle. The child-adopting fraternity is an +extensive one, and finds clients in all grades of society, and there can +be little doubt that in instances innumerable, while Alley Jack is paying +the penalty of his evil behaviour by turning for his bread on the +treadmill, his brothers, made legitimate by the timely reformation and +marriage of Alley Jack’s father, are figuring in their proper sphere, and +leisurely and profitably developing the intellect they inherit from their +brilliant papa. Alley Jack, too, has his share of the family talent—all +the brain, all the sensitiveness, all the “blood” of the respectable +stock a reckless sprig of which is responsible for Jack’s being. It is +only in the nature of things to suppose that Jack’s blood is tainted with +the wildness of wicked papa; and here we have in Alley Jack a type of +that bold intellectual villain whose clique of fifty or so, as Lord +Shaftesbury recently declared, is more to be dreaded than as many hundred +of the dull and plodding sort of thief, the story of whose exploits +figure daily in the newspapers. + +We have, however, a little wandered away from the subject in hand, which +is not concerning neglected children who have become thieves, but +neglected children, simply, whose future is not as yet ascertained. +Speaking of the professional child farmer, it has been already remarked +that his sole object, as regards these innocents that are adopted for a +sum paid down, is to get rid of them as secretly and quickly as possible. +And assuming the preservation of health and life in the little mortal to +be of the first importance, there can be no question that he has a better +chance of both, even though his treacherous “adopter” deserts him on a +doorstep, than if he were so kindly cruel as to tolerate his existence at +the “farm.” It is those unfortunate infants who are not “adopted,” but +merely housed and fed at so much per week or month, who are the greater +sufferers. True, it is to the interest of the practitioners who adopt +this branch of baby-farming to keep life in their little charges, since +with their death terminates the more or less profitable contract entered +into between themselves and the child’s parent or guardian; but no less +true is it that it is to the “farmers’” interest and profit to keep down +their expenditure in the nursery at as low an ebb as is consistent with +the bare existence of its luckless inhabitants. The child is welcome to +live on starvation diet just as long as it may. It is very welcome +indeed to do so, since the longer it holds out, the larger the number of +shillings the ogres that have it in charge will be enabled to grind out +of its poor little bones. These are not the “farmers” who append to +their advertisements the notification that “children of ill-health are +not objected to.” They are by far too good judges for that. What they +rejoice in is a fine, robust, healthy-lunged child, with whom some such +noble sum as a shilling a day is paid. Such an article is as good as a +gift of twenty pounds to them. See the amount of privation such a child +can stand before it succumbs! The tenacity of life in children of +perfectly sound constitution is proverbial. A ha’p’orth of bread, and a +ha’p’orth of milk daily will suffice to keep the machinery of life from +coming to a sudden standstill. By such a barely sufficient link will the +poor little helpless victim be held to life, while what passes as natural +causes attack and gradually consume it, and drag it down to its grave. +This, in the baby-farmer’s estimation, is a first-rate article—the pride +of the market, and without doubt the most profitable. The safest too. +Children will pine. Taken from their mother, it is only to be expected +that they should. Therefore, when the poor mother, who is working of +nights as well as days, that “nurse’s money” may be punctually paid, +visits her little one, and finds it thin and pale and wasting, she is not +amazed, although her conscience smites her cruelly, and her heart is fit +to break. She is only too thankful to hear “nurse” declare that she is +doing all she can for the little darling. It is her only consolation, +and she goes away hugging it while “nurse” and her old man make merry +over gin bought with that hard, hard-earned extra sixpence that the poor +mother has left to buy baby some little comfort. + +I trust and hope that what is here set down will not be regarded as mere +tinsel and wordy extravagance designed to produce a “sensation” in the +mind of the reader. There is no telling into whose hands a book may +fall. Maybe, it is not altogether impossible eyes may scan this page +that have been recently red with weeping over the terrible secret that +will keep but a little longer, and for the inevitable launching of which +provision must be made. To such a reader, with all kindliness, I would +whisper words of counsel. Think not “twice,” but many times before you +adopt the “readiest” means of shirking the awful responsibility you have +incurred. Rely on it, you will derive no lasting satisfaction out of +this “readiest” way, by which, of course, is meant the way to which the +villanous child-farmer reveals an open door. Be righteously courageous, +and take any step rather, as you would I am sure if you were permitted to +raise a corner and peep behind the curtain that conceals the hidden +mysteries of adopted-child murder. + +As a volunteer explorer into the depths of social mysteries, once upon a +time I made it my business to invade the den of a child-farmer. The +result of the experiment was printed in a daily newspaper or magazine at +the time, so I will here make but brief allusion to it. I bought the +current number of the newspaper more than once here mentioned, and +discovering, as usual, a considerable string of child-adopting and +nursing advertisements, I replied to the majority of them, professing to +have a child “on my hands,” and signing myself “M. D.” My intention +being to trap the villains, I need not say that in every case my reply to +their preliminary communications was couched in such carefully-considered +terms as might throw the most suspicious off their guard. But I found +that I had under-estimated the cunning of the enemy. Although the +innocent-seeming bait was made as attractive and savoury as possible, at +least half of the farmers to whom my epistles were addressed vouchsafed +no reply. There was something about it not to their liking, evidently. + +Three or four of the hungry pike bit, however, one being a lady signing +herself “Y. Z.” In her newspaper advertisement, if I rightly remember, +persons whom it concerned were to address, “Y. Z.,” Post Office, — +Street, Stepney. “Y. Z.” replying to mine so addressed, said that, as +before stated, she was willing to adopt a little girl of weakly +constitution at the terms I suggested, her object being chiefly to secure +a companion for her own little darling, who had lately, through death, +been deprived of his own dear little sister. “Y. Z.” further suggested +that I should appoint a place where we could “meet and arrange.” + +This, however, was not what I wanted. It was quite evident from the tone +of the lady’s note that she was not at all desirous that the meeting +should take place at her abode. Again I was to address, “Post Office.” +To bring matters to a conclusion, I wrote, declaring that nothing could +be done unless I could meet “Y. Z.” at her own abode. No answer was +returned to this my last, and it was evidently the intention of “Y. Z.” +to let the matter drop. + +I was otherwise resolved, however. I had some sort of clue, and was +resolved to follow it up. By what subtle arts and contrivance I managed +to trace “Y. Z.” from “Post Office” to her abode need not here be +recited. Armed with her real name and the number of the street in which +she resided, I arrived at the house, and at the door of it just as the +postman was rapping to deliver a letter to the very party I had come +uninvited to visit. I may say that the house was of the small four or +five-roomed order, and no more or less untidy or squalid than is commonly +to be found in the back streets of Stepney or Bethnal Green. + +“Oxleek” was the original of “Y. Z.,” and of the slatternly, +ragged-haired girl who opened the door I asked if that lady was at home. +The young woman said that she was out—that she had “gone to the Li-ver.” +The young woman spoke with a rapid utterance, and was evidently in a +mighty hurry to get back to some business the postman’s knock had +summoned her from. + +“I beg your pardon, miss, gone to the —” + +“Li-ver; where you pays in for young uns’ berryins and that,” she +responded; “she ain’t at home, but he is. I’ll call him.” + +And so she did. And presently a husky voice from the next floor called +out, “Hullo! what is it?” + +“Here’s a gentleman wants yer, and here’s a letter as the postman jest +left.” + +“Ask him if he’s the doctor; I’ve got the young un, I can’t come down,” +the husky voice was again heard to exclaim. + +To be sure I was not a doctor, not a qualified practitioner that is to +say, but as far as the Oxleek family knew me I was “M.D.;” and pacifying +my grumbling conscience with this small piece of jesuitism, I blandly +nodded my head to the young woman when she recited to me Mr. Oxleek’s +query. + +“Then you’d better go up, and p’raps you wouldn’t mind taking this letter +up with you,” said she. + +I went up; it was late in the evening and candlelight, in the room on the +next floor that is, but not on the stairs; but had it been altogether +dark, I might have discovered Mr. Oxleek by the stench of his tobacco. I +walked in at the half-open door. + +There was Mr. Oxleek by the fire, the very perfection of an indolent, +ease-loving, pipe-smoking, beer-soaking wretch as ever sat for his +portrait. He was a man verging on fifty, I should think, with a pair of +broad shoulders fit to carry a side of beef, and as greasy about the +cuffs and collar of his tattered jacket as though at some early period of +his existence he had carried sides of beef. But that must have been many +years ago, for the grease had all worn black with age, and the shoulders +of the jacket were all fretted through by constant friction against the +back of the easy-chair he sat in. He wore slippers—at least, he wore +_one_ slipper; the other one, all slouched down at heel, had slipped off +his lazy foot a few inches too far for easy recovery, and there it lay. +A villanously dirty face had Mr. Oxleek, and a beard of at least a +month’s growth. It was plain to be seen that one of Mr. Oxleek’s most +favourite positions of sitting was with his head resting against that +part of the wall that was by the side of the mantelshelf, for there, +large as a dinner plate, was the black greasy patch his dirty hair had +made. He had been smoking, for there, still smouldering, was his filthy +little pipe on the shelf, and by the side of it a yellow jug all streaked +and stained with ancient smears of beer. + +He was not quite unoccupied, however; he was nursing a baby! He, the +pipe-sucking, beer-swigging, unshaven, dirty, lazy ruffian, was nursing a +poor little creature less than a year old, as I should judge, with its +small, pinched face reposing against his ragged waistcoat, in the pocket +of which his tobacco was probably kept. The baby wore its bedgown, as +though it had once been put to bed, and roused to be nursed. It was a +very old and woefully begrimed bedgown, bearing marks of Mr. Oxleek’s +dirty paws, and of his tobacco dust, and of physic clumsily administered +and spilt. It would appear too much like “piling up the agony” did I +attempt to describe that baby’s face. It was the countenance of an +infant that had cried itself to sleep, and to whom pain was so familiar, +that it invaded its dreams, causing its mites of features to twitch and +quiver so that it would have been a mercy to wake it. + +“Evening, sir; take a cheer!” remarked Mr. Oxleek, quite hospitably; +“this is the young un, sir.” + +It was very odd. Clearly there was a great mistake somewhere, and yet as +far as they had gone, the proceedings were not much at variance with the +original text. I was “M.D.,” and a doctor was expected. “This was the +young un,” Mr. Oxleek declared, and a young one, a bereaved young one who +had lost his darling playmate, was a prominent feature in his wife’s +letter to me. + +“Oh, is that the young one?” I remarked. + +“Yes; a heap of trouble; going after the last, I’m afeard.” + +“The same symptoms, eh?” + +“Just the same. Reg’ler handful she is, and no mistake.” + +This then was _not_ the “young un” Mrs. Oxleek had written about. This +was a girl, it seemed. + +“Pray, how long is it since a medical man saw the child?” I inquired, I +am afraid in a tone that roused suspicion in Mr. Oxleek’s mind. + +“Oh, you know, when he came last week—you’re come instead of him? You +_have_ come instead of him, haven’t you?” + +“No, indeed,” I replied. “I’ve come to talk about that advertisement of +yours.” + +Mr. Oxleek for a moment looked blank, but only for a moment. He saw the +trap just as he was about to set his foot in it, and withdrew in time. + +“Not here,” he remarked, impudently. + +“But I must beg your pardon, it is here. You forget. I wrote to you as +M.D.” + +By this time Mr. Oxleek had seized and lit his short pipe, and was +puffing away at it with great vigour. + +“You’re come to the wrong shop, I tell you,” he replied, from behind the +impenetrable cloud; “we don’t know no ‘M.D.’ nor M.P., nor M. anythink; +it’s a mistake.” + +“Perhaps if I show you your wife’s writing, you will be convinced?” + +“No, I shan’t; it’s all a mistake, I tell you.” + +I sat down on a chair. + +“Will your wife be long before she returns?” I inquired. + +“Can’t say—oh, here she comes; _now_ p’raps you’ll believe that you’re +come to the wrong shop. My dear, what do we know about M.D.’s, or +advertising, eh?” + +“Nothing.” + +Mrs. Oxleek was a short, fat woman, with a sunny smile on her florid +face, and a general air of content about her. She had brought in with +her a pot of beer and a quantity of pork sausages for supper. + +“Nothing,” she repeated instantly, taking the cue, “who says that we do?” + +“This gentleman’s been a tacklin’ me a good ’un, I can tell you!—says +that he’s got your writing to show for summat or other.” + +“Where is my writing?” asked Mrs. Oxleek, defiantly. + +“This is it, if I am not mistaken, ma’am.” And I displayed it. + +“Ah! that’s where it is, you see,” said she, with a triumphant chuckle, +“you _are_ mistaken. You are only wasting your time, my good sir. My +name isn’t ‘Y. Z.,’ and never was. Allow me to light you down-stairs, my +good sir.” + +And I did allow her. What else could I do? At the same time, and +although my investigations led to nothing at all, I came away convinced, +as doubtless the reader is, that there was no “mistake,” and that Mr. and +Mrs. Oxleek were of the tribe of ogres who fatten on little children. + +Singularly enough, as I revise these pages for the press, there appears +in the newspapers a grimly apt illustration of the above statement. So +exactly do the details of the case in question bear out the arguments +used in support of my views of baby-farming, that I will take the liberty +of setting the matter before the reader just as it was set before the +coroner. + + “An investigation of a singular character was held by Mr. Richards on + Thursday night, at the Lord Campbell Tavern, Bow, respecting the + death of Frederick Wood, aged two years and three months. + + “Miss A. W—, of Hoxton, said deceased was a sickly child, and ten + months ago witness took it to Mrs. Savill, of 24, Swayton Road, Bow. + She paid her four-and-sixpence a week to take care of the child. She + never saw more than two other babies at Mrs. Savill’s house. She + thought her child was thoroughly attended to. The deceased met with + an accident and its thigh was broken, but the doctor said that the + witness need not put herself out in the slightest degree, for the + child was getting on very well. Witness could not get away from + business more than once a week to see the child. She had not seen + the child for five weeks. + + “Mrs. Caroline Savill said she was the wife of a porter in the city. + The deceased had been with her ten months. She put him to bed at + nine o’clock on Saturday night, and at half-past eight on Sunday + morning she said to her daughter, ‘He looks strange,’ and then she + put a looking-glass to his mouth and found that he was dead. + + “By the Coroner: She could account for the broken thigh. Last + October when she was taking deceased up to bed, she slipped down and + fell upon the child. She was quite certain that she was sober. It + was a pair of old boots that caused her to slip. She had eleven + children to keep at Bow. + + “A Juryman: You keep, in fact, a baby-farm? + + “Witness: That I must leave to your generosity, gentlemen. In + continuation, witness stated that out of the eleven children _five + had died_. There had been no inquest on either of them. The + deceased’s bed was an egg-box with some straw in it. The egg-box was + a short one, and was sixteen inches wide. The child could not turn + in it. She never tied deceased’s legs together. She never + discovered that the child’s thigh was broken till the morning + following the night when she fell on it. He cried and she put him to + bed. She fell upon the edge of the stairs and her weight was on him. + She sent for a doctor next day. + + “Doctor Atkins said he was called to see the dead body of the + deceased last Sunday. The child had a malformed chest. Death had + arisen from effusion of serum on the brain from natural causes, and + not from neglect. Witness had attended the deceased for the broken + thigh. He believed that the bones had not united when death took + place. + + “The jury, after a long consultation, returned a verdict of ‘death + from natural causes;’ and they wished to append a censure, but the + coroner refused to record it.” + +That is the whole of the pretty story of which the reader must be left to +form his own opinion. Should that opinion insist on a censure as one of +its appendages, the reader must of course be held personally responsible +for it. It is all over now. The poor little victim whom a Miss of his +name placed with the Bow “child-farmer,” “by leave of your generosity, +gentlemen,” is dead and buried. It would have been a mercy when his +unsteady nurse fell on and crushed him on the edge of the stairs, if she +had crushed his miserable life out, instead of only breaking a thigh. +Since last October, with one small leg literally in the grave, he must +have had a dismal time of it, poor little chap, and glad, indeed, must +his spirit have been when its clay tenement was lifted out of his coffin +cradle—the egg-box with the bit of straw in it—and consigned to the +peaceful little wooden house that the cemetery claimed. It is all over +with Frederick John Wood; and his mamma, or whoever he was who was at +liberty only once a week to come and see him, is released from the +crushing burden his maintenance imposed on her, and Mrs. Savill by this +time has doubtless filled up the egg-box the little boy’s demise rendered +vacant. Why should she not, when she left the coroner’s court without a +stain on her character? It is all over. The curtain that was raised +just a little has been dropped again, and the audience has dispersed, and +nobody will think again of the tragedy the darkened stage is ready to +produce again at the shortest notice, until the coroner’s constable rings +the bell and the curtain once more ascends. + +And so we shall go on, unless the law steps in to our aid. Why does it +not do so? It is stringent and vigilant enough as regards inferior +animals. It has a stern eye for pigs, and will not permit them to be +kept except on certain inflexible conditions. It holds dogs in leash, +and permits them to live only as contributors to Her Majesty’s Inland +Revenue. It holds its whip over lodging-house keepers, and under +frightful pains and penalties they may not swindle a lodger of one out of +his several hundred regulation feet of air; but it takes no heed of the +cries of its persecuted babes and sucklings. Anyone may start as a +professed adopter of children. Anyone however ignorant, and brutal, and +given to slipping down stairs, may start as a baby-farmer, with liberty +to do as she pleases with the helpless creatures placed in her charge. +What she pleases first of all to do, as a matter of course, is to pare +down the cost of her charge’s keep, so that she may make a living of the +parings. As has been seen, she need not even find them beds to lie on; +if she be extra economical, an egg-box with a handful of straw will do as +well. + +And is there no remedy for this? Would it not be possible, at least, to +issue licences to baby-keepers as they are at present issued to +cow-keepers? It may appear a brutal way of putting the matter, but it +becomes less so when one considers how much at present the brutes have +the best of it. + + + +CHAPTER IV. +WORKING BOYS. + + +_The London Errand Boy_.—_His Drudgery and Privations_.—_His +Temptations_.—_The London Boy after Dark_.—_The Amusements provided for +him_. + +THE law takes account of but two phases of human existence,—the child +irresponsible, and the adult responsible, and overlooks as beneath its +dignity the important and well-marked steps that lead from the former +state to the latter. + +Despite the illegality of the proceeding, it is the intention of the +writer hereof to do otherwise, aware as he is, and as every thinking +person may be, of how critical and all-important a period in the career +of the male human creature, is “boyhood.” Amongst people of means and +education, the grave responsibility of seeing their rising progeny safely +through the perilous “middle passage” is fully recognized; but it is +sadly different with the labouring classes, and the very poor. + +It is a lamentable fact that at that period of his existence when he +needs closest watching, when he stands in need of healthful guidance, of +counsel against temptation, a boy, the son of labouring parents, is left +to himself, almost free to follow the dictates of his inclinations, be +they good or had. Nothing than this can be more injudicious, and as +regards the boy’s moral culture and worldly welfare, more unjust. Not, +as I would have it distinctly understood, that the boy of vulgar breeding +is by nature more pregnable to temptation than his same age brother of +genteel extraction; not because, fairly tested with the latter, he would +be the first to succumb to a temptation, but because, poor fellow, +outward circumstances press and hamper him so unfairly. + +It has recently come to my knowledge that at the present time there is +striving hard to attract public attention and patronage an institution +styled the “Errand Boys’ Home.” It would be difficult, indeed, to +overrate the importance of such an establishment, properly conducted. +Amongst neglected children of a larger growth, those of the familiar +“errand boy” type figure first and foremost. It would be instructive to +learn how many boys of the kind indicated are annually drafted into our +great criminal army, and still more so to trace back the swift downhill +strides to the original little faltering step that shuffled from the +right path to the wrong. + +Anyone who has any acquaintance with the habits and customs of the +labouring classes, must be aware that the “family” system is for the +younger branches, as they grow up, to elbow those just above them in age +out into the world; not only to make more room at the dinner-table, but +to assist in its substantial adornment. The poorer the family, the +earlier the boys are turned out, “to cut their own grass,” as the saying +is. Take a case—one in ten thousand—to be met with to-morrow or any day +in the city of London. Tom is a little lad—one of seven or eight—his +father is a labourer, earning, say, a guinea a week; and from the age of +seven Tom has been sent to a penny-a-week school; partly for the sake of +what learning he may chance to pick up, but chiefly to keep him “out of +the streets,” and to effect a simultaneous saving of his morals and of +his shoe-leather. As before stated, Tom’s is essentially a working +family. It is Tom’s father’s pride to relate how that he was “turned +out” at eight, and had to trudge through the snow to work at six o’clock +of winter mornings; and, that though on account of coughs and chilblains +and other frivolous and childish ailments, he thought it very hard at the +time, he rejoices that he was so put to it, since he has no doubt that it +tended to harden him and make him the man he is. + +Accordingly, when Tom has reached the ripe age of ten, it is accounted +high time that he “got a place,” as did his father before him; and, as +there are a hundred ways in London in which a sharp little boy of ten can +be made useful, very little difficulty is experienced in Tom’s launching. +He becomes an “errand boy,” a newspaper or a printing boy, in all +probability. The reader curious as to the employment of juvenile labour, +may any morning at six or seven o’clock in the morning witness the +hurried trudging to work of as many Toms as the pavement of our great +highways will conveniently accommodate, each with his small bundle of +food in a little bag, to last him the day through. Something else he may +see, too, that would be highly comic were it not for its pitiful side. +As need not be repeated here, a boy’s estimate of earthly bliss might be +conveniently contained in a dinner-plate of goodly dimensions. When he +first goes out to work, his pride and glory is the parcel of food his +mother makes up for the day’s consumption. There he has it—breakfast, +dinner, tea! Possibly he might get as much, or very nearly, in the +ordinary course of events at home, but in a piece-meal and ignoble way. +He never in his life possessed such a wealth of food, all his own, to do +as he pleases with. Eight—ten slices of bread and butter, and may +be—especially if it happen to be Monday—a slice of meat and a lump of +cold pudding; relics of that dinner of dinners, Sunday’s dinner! + +His, all his, with nobody to say nay; but still only wealth in +prospective! It is now barely seven o’clock, and, by fair eating, he +will not arrive at that delicious piece of cold pork with the crackling +on it until twelve! It is a keen, bracing morning; he has already walked +a mile or more; and it wants yet fully an hour and a half to the factory +breakfast time. It is just as broad as it is long; suppose he draws on +his breakfast allowance just to the extent of one slice? Only one, and +that in stern integrity: the topmost slice without fee or favour! But, +ah! the cruel fragrance of that juicy cut of spare-rib! It has +impregnated the whole contents of the bundle. The crust of that +abstracted slice is as savoury, almost, as the crisp-baked rind of the +original. Six bites—“too brief for friendship, not for fame”—have +consumed it, and left him, alas! hungrier than ever. Shall he? +What—taste of the sacred slice? No. It isn’t likely. The pork is for +his dinner. But the pudding—that is a supplemental sort of article; a +mere extravagance when added to so much perfection as the luscious meat +embodies. And out he hauls it; the ponderous abstraction afflicting the +hitherto compact parcel with such a shambling looseness, that it is +necessary to pause in one of the recesses of the bridge to readjust and +tighten it. But, ah! rash boy! Since thou wert not proof against the +temptation lurking in that slice of bread-and-butter, but faintly odorous +of that maddening flavour, how canst thou hope to save thyself now that +thou hast tasted of the pudding to which the pork was wedded in the +baker’s oven? It were as safe to trust thee at hungry noon with a +luscious apple-dumpling, and bid thee eat of the dough and leave the +fruit. It is all over. Reason, discretion, the admonitions of a +troubled conscience, were all gulped down with that last corner, crusty +bit, so full of gravy. The bridge’s next recess is the scene of another +halt, and of an utterly reckless spoliation of the dwindled bundle. And +now the pork is consumed, to the veriest atom, and nought remains but +four reproachful bread slices, that skulk in a corner, and almost demand +the untimely fate visited on their companions. Shall they crave in vain? +No. A pretty bundle, _this_, to take to the factory for his mates to +see. A good excuse will serve his purpose better. He will engulf the +four slices as he did the rest, and fold up his bag neatly, and hide it +in his pocket, and, when dinner-time comes, he will profess that there is +something nice at home, and he is going there to partake of it; while, +really, he will take a dismal stroll, lamenting his early weakness, and +making desperate vows for the future. + +It is not, however, with Tom as the lucky owner of a filled food-bag that +we have here to deal, but with Tom who at least five days out of the six +is packed off to work with just as much bread and butter as his poor +mother can spare off the family loaf. Now “going out to work” is a +vastly different matter from going from home to school, and innocently +playing between whiles. In the first place, the real hard work he has to +perform (and few people would readily believe the enormous amount of +muscular exertion these little fellows are capable of enduring), develops +his appetite for eating to a prodigious extent. He finds the food he +brings from home as his daily ration but half sufficient. What are a +couple of slices of bread, with perhaps a morsel of cheese, considered as +a dinner for a hearty boy who has perhaps trudged from post to pillar a +dozen miles or so since his breakfast, carrying loads more or less heavy? +He hungers for more, and more is constantly in his sight if he only had +the means, a penny or twopence even, to buy it. He makes the +acquaintance of other boys; he is drawn towards them in hungry, envious +curiosity, seeing them in the enjoyment of what he so yearns after, and +they speedily inform him how easy it is to “make” not only a penny or +twopence, but a sixpence or a shilling, if he has a mind. And they are +quite right, these young counsellors of evil. The facilities for petty +pilfering afforded to the shopkeeper’s errand-boy are such as favour +momentary evil impulses. He need not engage in subtle plans for the +purloining of a shilling or a shilling’s worth. The opportunity is at +his fingers’ ends constantly. Usually he has the range of the business +premises. Few people mistrust a little boy, and he is left to mind the +shop where the money-till is, and he has free access to the store-room or +warehouse in which all manner of portable small goods are heaped in +profusion. It is an awful temptation. It is not sufficient to urge that +it should not be, and that in the case of a lad of well-regulated mind it +would not be. It would perhaps be more to the purpose to substitute +“well-regulated meals” for “well-regulated minds.” Nine times out of ten +the confessions of a discovered juvenile pilferer go to prove that he +sinned for his belly’s sake. He has no conscience above his waistband, +poor little wretch; nor can much better be expected, when we consider +that all his life, his experience and observation has taught him that the +first grand aim of human ingenuity and industry is to place a hot baked +dinner on the table of Sundays. To be sure, in the case of his +hardworking father he may never have known him resort to any other than +honest industry; he never found out that his parent was any other than an +honest man; and so long as his father or his employer does not find him +out to be any other than an honest boy, matters may run smoothly. + +It is least of all my intention to make out that every errand-boy is a +petty thief; all that I maintain is that he is a human creature just +budding into existence as it were in the broad furrowed field of life, +and that his susceptibilities are tender, and should be protected from +evil influence with even extraordinary care; and that instead of which he +is but too often left to grow up as maybe. In their ignorance and hard +driving necessity, his parents having given him a spell of penny +schooling, and maintained him until he has become a marketable article, +persuade themselves that they have done for him the best they can, and +nothing remains but for him to obey his master in all things, and he will +grow to be as bright a man as his father before him. + +It is only necessary to point to the large number of such children, for +they are no better, who annually swell our criminal lists, to prove that +somewhere a screw is sadly loose, and that the sooner it is set right the +better it will be for the nation. The Home for Errand Boys is the best +scheme that has as yet been put forth towards meeting the difficulty. +Its professed object, I believe, is to afford shelter and wholesome food +and healthful and harmless recreation for boys who are virtually without +a home, and who have “only a lodging.” That is to say, a place to which +they may retire to sleep come bed-time, and for which they pay what +appears as a paltry sum when regarded as so many pence per night, but +which tells up to a considerable sum by the end of a week. + +The most important feature, however, of such a scheme as the Home for +Errand Boys embraces, does not appear in the vaunted advantage of reduced +cost. Its main attraction is the promise it holds out to provide its +lodgers with suitable amusement after work hours and before bed-time. If +this were done on an extensive scale, there is no telling how much real +substantial good might be accomplished. It is after work hours that boys +fall into mischief. There is no reason why these homes should not have +existence in various parts of London. One such establishment indeed is +of little practical use. If it were possible to establish such places (a +careful avoidance of everything savouring of the “asylum” and the +“reformatory” would of course be necessary) in half a dozen different +spots in the immediate neighbourhood of the city, they would doubtless +meet with extensive patronage. They might indeed be made to serve many +valuable ends that do not appear at a first glance. If these “homes” +were established east, west, north, and south, they might be all under +one management, and much good be effected by recommending deserving +members for employment. There might even be a provident fund, formed by +contributions of a penny or so a week, out of which lads unavoidably out +of employ could be supported until a job of work was found for them. + +Allusion has, in a previous page, been made to that dangerous time for +working boys—the time between leaving work and retiring to bed. It would +be bad enough were the boy left to his own devices for squandering his +idle time and his hard-earned pence. This task, however, is taken out of +his hands. He has only to stroll up this street and down the next, and +he will find pitfalls already dug for him; neatly and skilfully dug, and +so prettily overspread with cosy carpeting, that they do not in the least +appear like pitfalls. It may at first sight seem that “neglected +children” are least of all likely to make it worth the while of these +diggers of pits, but it should be borne in mind that the term in question +is here applied in its most comprehensive sense, that there are children +of all ages, and that there are many more ways than one of neglecting +children. It is evident that young boys who are out at work from six +till six say, and after that spend the evening pretty much how they +please, are “neglected” in the most emphatic meaning of the term. +Parents are not apt to think so. It is little that they have to concede +him in return for his contributions to the common stock, and probably +they regard this laxity of supervision as the working boy’s due—as +something he has earned, and which is his by right. The boy himself is +nothing backward in claiming a privilege he sees accorded to so many +other boys, and it is the least troublesome thing in the world for the +parents to grant the favour. All that they stipulate for is that the boy +shall be home and a-bed in such good time as shall enable him to be up +and at work without the loss in the morning of so much as an hour; which +is a loss of just as many pence as may happen. + +It may not be here out of place to make more definite allusion to the +“pitfalls” above-mentioned. Pitfall broadest and deepest is the +theatrical exhibition, known as the “penny gaff.” Some considerable time +since I wrote on this subject in the columns of the “Morning Star;” and +as precisely the old order of things prevails, and the arguments then +used against them apply with equal force now, I will, with the reader’s +permission, save myself further trouble than that which transcription +involves. + +Every low district of London has its theatre, or at least an humble +substitute for one, called in vulgar parlance a “gaff.” A gaff is a +place in which, according to the strict interpretation of the term, stage +plays may not be represented. The actors of a drama may not correspond +in colloquy, only in pantomime, but the pieces brought out at the “gaff” +are seldom of an intricate character, and the not over-fastidious +auditory are well content with an exhibition of dumb show and gesture, +that even the dullest comprehension may understand. The prices of +admission to these modest temples of the tragic muse, are judiciously +regulated to the means of the neighbourhood, and range from a penny to +threepence. There is no “half-price for children,” and for the simple +reason that such an arrangement would reduce the takings exactly fifty +per cent. They are _all_ children who support the gaff. Costermonger +boys and girls, from eight or nine to fourteen years old, and errand boys +and girls employed at factories. As before mentioned, every district has +its own “gaff.” There is one near Peter Street, Westminster; a second in +the New Cut, at Lambeth; a third in Whitecross Street; a fourth, fifth, +and sixth between Whitechapel Church and Ratcliff Highway. It may, +without fear of contradiction, be asserted, that within a circuit of five +miles of St. Paul’s, at least twenty of these dangerous dens of amusement +might be enumerated. + +At best of times they are dangerous. The best of times being when +current topics of a highly sensational character are lacking, and the +enterprising manager is compelled to fall back on some comparatively +harmless stock piece. But the “gaff” proprietor has an eye to business, +and is a man unlikely to allow what he regards as his chances to slip by +him. He at once perceives a chance in the modern mania that pervades the +juvenile population for a class of literature commonly known as “highly +sensational.” He has no literature to vend, but he does not despair on +that account. He is aware that not one in five of the youth who honour +his establishment with their patronage can read. If he, the worthy gaff +proprietor, had any doubts on the subject, he might settle them any day +by listening at his door while an admiring crowd of “regular customers” +flocking thereto speculated on the pleasures of the night as foretold in +glowing colours on the immense placards that adorn the exterior of his +little theatre. They can understand the pictures well enough, but the +descriptive legends beneath them are mysteries to which few possess the +key. If these few are maliciously reticent, the despair of the benighted +ones is painful to witness, as with puckered mouths and knitted brows +they essay to decipher the strange straight and crooked characters, and +earnestly consult with each other as to when and where they had seen the +like. Failing in this, the gaff proprietor may have heard them exclaim +in tones of but half-assured consolation, “Ah, well! it doesn’t matter +what the _reading_ is; the piece won’t be spoke, it’ll be _acted_, so we +are sure to know all about it when we come to-night.” + +Under such circumstances, it is easy enough to understand the agonized +anxiety of low-lived ignorant Master Tomkins in these stirring times of +Black Highwaymen, and Spring Heel Jacks, and Boy Detectives. In the shop +window of the newsvendor round the corner, he sees displayed all in a +row, a long line of “penny numbers,” the mere illustrations pertaining to +which makes his heart palpitate, and his hair stir beneath his ragged +cap. There he sees bold highwaymen busy at every branch of their +delightful avocation, stopping a lonely traveller and pressing a pistol +barrel to his affrighted head, and bidding him deliver his money or his +life; or impeding the way of the mail coach, the captain, hat in hand, +courteously robbing the inside passengers (prominent amongst whom is a +magnificent female with a low bodice, who evidently is not insensible to +the captain’s fascinating manner), while members of his gang are seen in +murderous conflict with the coachman and the guard, whose doom is but too +surely foreshadowed. Again, here is a spirited woodcut of a booted and +spurred highwayman in headlong flight from pursuing Bow Street officers +who are close at his heels, and in no way daunted or hurt by the contents +of the brace of pistols the fugitive has manifestly just discharged point +blank at their heads. + +But fairly in the way of the bold rider is a toll-gate, and in a state of +wild excitement the toll-gate keeper is seen grasping the long bar that +crosses the road. The tormenting question at once arises in the mind of +Master Tomkins—is he pushing it or pulling it? Is he friendly to the +Black Knight of the Road or is he not? Master T. feels that his hero’s +fate is in that toll-gate man’s hands; he doesn’t know if he should +vastly admire him or regard him with the deadliest enmity. From the +bottom of his heart he hopes that the toll-gate man may be friendly. He +would cheerfully give up the only penny he has in his pocket to know that +it were so. He would give a penny for a simple “yes” or “no,” and all +the while there are eight good letter-press pages along with the picture +that would tell him all about it if he only were able to read! There is +a scowl on his young face as he reflects on this, and bitterly he thinks +of his hardhearted father who sent him out to sell fusees when he should +have been at school learning his A B C. Truly, he went for a short time +to a Ragged School, but there the master kept all the jolly books to +himself—the “Knight of the Road” and that sort of thing, and gave him to +learn out of a lot of sober dry rubbish without the least flavour in it. +Who says that he is a dunce and won’t learn? Try him now. Buy a few +numbers of the “Knight of the Road” and sit down with him, and make him +spell out every word of it. Never was boy so anxious after knowledge. +He never picked a pocket yet, but such is his present desperate spirit, +that if he had the chance of picking the art of reading out of one, just +see if he wouldn’t precious soon make himself a scholar? + +Thus it is with the neglected boy, blankly illiterate. It need not be +supposed, however, that a simple and quiet perusal of the astounding +adventures of his gallows heroes from the printed text would completely +satisfy the boy with sufficient knowledge to enable him to spell through +a “penny number.” It whets his appetite merely. It is one thing to +_read_ about the flashing and slashing of steel blades, and of the gleam +of pistol barrels, and the whiz of bullets, and of the bold highwayman’s +defiant “ha! ha!” as he cracks the skull of the coach-guard, preparatory +to robbing the affrighted passengers; but to be satisfactory the marrow +and essence of the blood-stirring tragedy can only be conveyed to him in +bodily shape. There are many elements of a sanguinary drama that may not +well be expressed in words. As, for instance, when Bill Bludjon, after +having cut the throat of the gentleman passenger, proceeds to rob his +daughter, and finding her in possession of a locket with some grey hair +in it, he returns it to her with the observation, “Nay, fair lady, Bill +Bludjon may be a thief: in stern defence of self he may occasionally shed +blood, but, Perish the Liar who says of him that he respects not the grey +hairs of honourable age!” There is not much in this as set down in +print. To do Bill justice, you must see how his noble countenance lights +as his generous bosom heaves with chivalrous sentiments; how defiantly he +scowls, and grinds his indignant teeth as he hisses the word +“_Liar_!”—how piously he turns his eyes heavenward as he alludes to +“honourable old age.” It is in these emotional subtleties that the hero +rises out of the vulgar robber with his villanous Whitechapel cast of +countenance, and his great hands, hideous with murder stains, must be +witnessed to be appreciated. It is the gaff proprietor’s high aim and +ambition to effect this laudable object, and that he does so with a +considerable amount of, at least, pecuniary success, is proved by his +“crowded houses” nightly. + +Now that the police are to be roused to increased vigilance in the +suppression, as well as the arrest of criminality, it would be as well if +those in authority directed their especial attention to these penny +theatres. As they at present exist, they are nothing better than +hot-beds of vice in its vilest forms. Girls and boys of tender age are +herded together to witness the splendid achievements of “dashing +highwaymen,” and of sirens of the Starlight Sall school; nor is this all. +But bad as this is, it is really the least part of the evil. The penny +“gaff” is usually a small place, and when a specially atrocious piece +produces a corresponding “run,” the “house” is incapable of containing +the vast number of boys and girls who nightly flock to see it. Scores +would be turned away from the doors, and their halfpence wasted, were it +not for the worthy proprietor’s ingenuity. I am now speaking of what I +was an actual witness of in the neighbourhood of Shoreditch. Beneath the +pit and stage of the theatre was a sort of large kitchen, reached from +the end of the passage, that was the entrance to the theatre by a flight +of steep stairs. There were no seats in this kitchen, nor furniture of +any kind. There was a window looking toward the street, but this was +prudently boarded up. At night time all the light allowed in the kitchen +proceeded from a feeble and dim gas jet by the wall over the fire-place. + +Wretched and dreary-looking as was this underground chamber, it was a +source of considerable profit to the proprietor of the “gaff” overhead. +As before stated, when anything peculiarly attractive was to be seen, the +theatre filled within ten minutes of opening the besieged doors. Not to +disappoint the late comers, however, all who pleased might pay and go +downstairs until the performance just commenced (it lasted generally +about an hour and a half) terminated. The prime inducement held out was, +that “then they would be sure of good seats.” The inevitable result of +such an arrangement may be easier guessed than described. For my part, I +know no more about it than was to be derived from a hasty glance from the +stair-head. There was a stench of tobacco smoke, and an uproar of +mingled youthful voices—swearing, chaffing, and screaming, in boisterous +mirth. This was all that was to be heard, the Babel charitably rendering +distinct pronouncing of blasphemy or indecency unintelligible. Nor was +it much easier to make out the source from whence the hideous clamour +proceeded, for the kitchen was dim as a coal cellar, and was further +obscured by the foul tobacco smoke the lads were emitting from their +short pipes. A few were romping about—“larking,” as it is termed—but the +majority, girls and boys, were squatted on the floor, telling and +listening to stories, the quality of which might but too truly be guessed +from the sort of applause they elicited. A few—impatient of the +frivolity that surrounded them, and really anxious for “the play”—stood +apart, gazing with scowling envy up at the ceiling, on the upper side of +which, at frequent intervals, there was a furious clatter of hobnailed +boots, betokening the delirious delight of the happy audience in full +view of Starlight Sall, in “silk tights” and Hessians, dancing a Highland +fling. Goaded to desperation, one or two of the tormented ones down in +the kitchen reached up with their sticks and beat on the ceiling a +tattoo, responsive to the battering of the hobnailed boots before +mentioned. This, however, was a breach of “gaff” rule that could not be +tolerated. With hurried steps the proprietor approached the kitchen +stairs, and descried me. “This ain’t the theeater; you’ve no business +here, sir!” said he, in some confusion, as I imagined. “No, my friend, I +have no business here, but _you_ have a very pretty business, and one for +which, when comes the Great Day of Reckoning, I would rather you answered +than me.” But I only thought this; aloud, I made the gaff proprietor an +apology, and thankfully got off his abominable premises. + + + +CHAPTER V. +THE PROBLEM OF DELIVERANCE. + + +_Curious Problem_.—_The Best Method of Treatment_.—_The_ “_Child of the +Gutter_” _not to be Entirely Abolished_.—_The Genuine Alley-Bred +Arab_.—_The Poor Lambs of the Ragged Flock_.—_The Tree of Evil in Our +Midst_.—_The Breeding Places of Disease and Vice_. + +THE curious problem—“What is the best method of treatment to adopt +towards improving the condition of neglected children, and to diminish +their number for the future?” has been attempted for solution from so +many points of attack, and by means so various, that a bare enumeration +of the instances would occupy much more space than these limited pages +afford. + +We may never hope entirely to abolish the child of the gutter. To a +large extent, as has been shown, he is a natural growth of vices that +seem inseparable from our social system: he is of the world, the flesh, +and the devil; and, until we purge our grosser nature, and become +angelic, we must tolerate him as we must the result of all our +ill-breeding. It is a thousand pities that it should be so, because, as +I have endeavoured in these pages to show, the neglected child issuing +from the source here hinted at, is by far the most unmanageable and +dangerous. Blood is thicker than any water, not excluding ditch water; +and the chances are that the unlucky “love-child” will not remain content +to grovel in the kennel to which an accident of birth consigned him, but, +out of his rebellious nature, conceive a deadly hatred against the world +that has served him so shabbily, and do his best to be revenged on it. +It is not of the neglected child of this breed that I would say a few +concluding words, but of the genuine alley-bred Arab of the City; the +worthy descendant of a tribe that has grown so used to neglect that it +regards it as its privilege, and fiercely resents any move that may be +taken towards its curtailment. + +If ever a distressed creature had friends surely this one has. From time +immemorial it has been the pet of the philanthropist. Unsavoury, +unsightly bantling as it is, he is never tired of fondling it, spending +his time and money over it, and holding it up to the commiseration of a +humane public, and building all manner of homes and asylums for it; but +he still remains on hand. If he would grow up, and after being bound +’prentice to a wholesome trade cease to trouble us, there would be some +satisfaction in the business; but it never grows up. It is like the +borrowed beggar’s brat, that, in defiance of the progress of time, never +emerges from its bedgown, and never grows too big to be tucked under one +arm, leaving the other at liberty to arrest the charitable passer-by. + +To be sure it is a great consolation to know that despite our +non-success, the poor little object of our solicitude is in no danger of +being dropped in hopelessness and abandoned, but it would be encouraging +to discover that we were making some progress with our main design, which +can be nothing less than the complete extinction of children of the +“gutter” tribe, such as we are now discussing. + +As it is, we are making scarcely any progress at all. I am aware that +statistics are against this statement, that the triumphant reports of +this and that charity point to a different conclusion. This home has +rescued so many little ones from the streets—that asylum can show a +thousand decently clad and educated children that but for its efforts +would at this moment be either prowling the streets, picking up a more +precarious living than the stray dog picks up, or leading the life of a +petty thief, and rapidly earning his right to penal servitude. + +This, and much more, is doubtless true, but there remains the grim fact +that our filthy byways still swarm with these dirty, ragged, +disease-stricken little ones, and as plentifully as of yore they infest +our highways, an eyesore and a shuddering to all decent beholders. If +there has occurred any recent diminution in their number, I should +rejoice to know it; but that such is in the least degree the fact, +certainly I am not justified in assuming in the face of the urgent +appeals daily put forth by the wise in such matters, and who never tire +of urging on the benevolently disposed, that never was there such need as +now to be up and stirring. + +And it can never be otherwise while we limit our charitable doing to +providing for those poor lambs of the ragged flock as fast as they are +bred, and cast loose on the chance of their being mercifully kidnapped +and taken care of. As with indiscriminate giving to beggars, it may be +urged that we can never go wrong in ministering to the distress of the +infantine and helpless. Opportunities of doing so should perhaps be +joyfully hailed by us as affording wholesome exercise of our belief in +the Christian religion, but we may rely on it that the supply of the +essential ingredient towards the said exercise will never be unequal to +the demand. Our charitable exertion flows in too narrow a channel. It +is pure, and of depth immeasurable, but it is not broad enough. We have +got into a habit of treating our neglected children as an evil +unavoidable, and one that must be endured with kindly and pious +resignation. We have a gigantic tree of evil rooted in our midst, and +our great care is to collect the ripe seeds it drops and provide against +their germinating, and we expend as much time and money in the process as +judiciously applied would serve to tear up the old tree from its +tenacious holding, and for ever destroy its mischievous power. No doubt +it may be justly claimed by the patrons and supporters of homes and +asylums, that by rescuing these children from the streets they are saved +from becoming debased and demoralized as were the parents they sprang +from, and so, in course of time, by a steady perseverance in their +system, the breed of gutter prowlers must become extinct; but that is a +tedious and roundabout method of reform that can only be tolerated until +a more direct route is discovered, and one that can scarcely prove +satisfactory to those who look forward to a lifetime return for some of +their invested capital. + +We may depend on it that we shall never make much real progress in our +endeavours to check the growth of these seedlings and offshoots of ragged +poverty and reckless squalor until we turn our attention with a settled +purpose to the haunts they are bred in. Our present system compels us +even in its first preliminary steps to do violence against nature. We +cannot deal with our babies of the gutter effectually, and with any +reasonable chance of success, until we have separated them entirely from +their _home_. We may tame them and teach them to feed out of our hands, +and to repeat after us the alphabet, and even words of two and three +syllables. We may even induce them to shed their bedraggled feathers and +adopt a more decent plumage; but they can never be other than restless +and ungovernable, and unclean birds, while they inhabit the vile old +parent nest. + +It is these vile old nests that should be abolished. While they are +permitted to exist, while Rosemary Lane, and Peter Street, Westminster, +and Back Church Lane in Whitechapel, and Cow Cross and Seven Dials, and a +hundred similar places are tolerated and allowed to flourish, it is +utterly impossible to diminish the race of children of the gutter. Why +should these breeding places of disease and vice and all manner of +abomination be permitted to cumber the earth? There is but one opinion +that these horrid dens are the sources from which are derived two-thirds +of our neglected ragged urchin population. Further, it is generally +conceded, that it is not because of the prevalence of extreme poverty +there; the filthy little public-houses invariably to be found lurking in +the neighbourhood of rags and squalor would not be so prosperous if such +were the case. It is the pestilential atmosphere of the place that will +let nothing good live in it. You may never purify it. It is altogether +a rotten carcase; and if you stuff it to the mouth with chloride of lime, +and whitewash it an inch thick, you will make nothing else of it. It is +a sin and a disgrace that human creatures should be permitted to herd in +such places. One and all should be abolished, and wholesome habitations +built in their stead. Half measures will not meet the case. That has +been sufficiently proved but recently, when, not for morality or decency +sake, but to make room for a railway, a few score of these odious +hole-and-corner “slums” were razed to the ground. + +The result was to make bad worse. The wretched occupants of the doomed +houses clung to them with as much tenacity as though each abode were an +ark, and if they were turned out of it, it would be to drown in the +surrounding flood. When the demolishers came with their picks and +crows—the honest housebreakers,—and mounted to the roof, the garret +lodgers retreated to the next floor, and so on, debating the ground step +by step before the inexorable pickaxe, until they were driven into the +cellar and could go no lower. Then they had to run for it; but, poor +purblind wretches, they had lived so long in dungeon darkness, that the +broad light of day was unbearable. Like rats disturbed from a drain, all +they desired was to escape out of sight and hide again; and again, like +rats, they knew of neighbouring burrows and scuttled to them with all +speed. + +Ousted from Slusher’s Alley, they sought Grimes’s Rents. Grimes’s Rents +were already fully occupied by renters, but the present was a calamity +that might overtake anyone, and the desired shelter was not refused. It +was a mere matter of packing a little closer. The donkey that lodged in +the cellar was turned into the wash-house, and there was a commodious +apartment for a large family, and nothing was easier than to rig up an +old counterpane on an extended string, so converting one chamber into +two. Hard as it is to believe, and in mockery of all our Acts of +Parliament for the better ordering of lodging-houses, and our legal +enactments regulating the number of cubic feet of air every lodger was +entitled to and might insist on, in hundreds of cases this condition of +things exists at the present writing. Within a stone’s cast of the +Houses of Parliament, where sit six hundred wise gentlemen empanelled to +make what laws they please for improving the condition of the people, +every one of the said six hundred being an educated man of liberal mind, +and fully recognising the Christian maxim that godliness and cleanliness +are identical, may be found human creatures housed in places that would +ruin the health of a country-bred pig were he removed thereto. In these +same places parents and grown up and little children herd in the same +room night and day. Sickness does not break up the party, or even the +presence of grim Death himself. Singularly enough, however, more +ceremony is observed with new life than with old Death. A missionary +friend related to me the case of a family of five inhabiting one small +room, and the youngest boy, aged thirteen, died. The domestic +arrangements, however, were not in the least disturbed by the melancholy +event; the lad’s coffin was laid against the wall, and meals were cooked +and eaten and the two beds made and occupied as usual until the day of +burial. A little while after, however, the mother gave birth to a child, +and my friend visiting the family found it grouped on the landing +partaking of a rough-and-ready tea. It was voted “undacent to be +inthrudin’” until next day. However, the decent scruples of the head of +the family did not hold out beyond that time, and by the evening of the +next day the old order of things was quite restored. + +How in the name of goodness and humanity can we, under such +circumstances, hope to be delivered from the curse of neglected children? + + + + +II.—Professional Thieves. + + +CHAPTER VI. +THEIR NUMBER AND THEIR DIFFICULTIES. + + +_Twenty Thousand Thieves in London_.—_What it Means_.—_The Language of_ +“_Weeds_.”—_Cleverness of the Pilfering Fraternity_.—_A Protest Against a +Barbarous Suggestion_.—_The Prisoner’s great Difficulty_.—_The Moment of +Leaving Prison_.—_Bad Friends_.—_What Becomes of Good Resolutions and the +Chaplain’s Counsel_?—_The Criminal’s Scepticism of Human Goodness_.—_Life +in_ “_Little Hell_.”—_The Cow Cross Mission_. + +THE happily ignorant reader, whose knowledge of the criminal classes is +confined to an occasional glance through the police court and Sessions +cases as narrated in his morning newspaper, will be shocked and amazed to +learn that within the limits of the City of London alone, an army of male +and female thieves, twenty thousand strong, find daily and nightly +employment. + +It is easy to write “twenty thousand,” and easier still to read the +words. Easier than all to pass them by with but a vague idea of their +meaning, and perhaps a sympathetic shrug of the shoulders for the poor, +hard-worked policemen who must have such a terrible time of it in keeping +such an enormous predatory crew in anything like order. Still, and +without the least desire to be “sensational,” I would ask the reader, +does he fully comprehend what twenty thousand thieves in London means? +Roughly estimating the population of the metropolis as numbering three +millions, it means that amongst us one person in every hundred and fifty +is a forger, a housebreaker, a pickpocket, a shoplifter, a receiver of +stolen goods or what not; a human bird of prey, in short, bound to a +desperate pursuit of that terrible course of life into which vice or +misfortune originally casts him; a wily, cunning man-wolf, constantly on +the watch, seeking whom he may devour. + +Almost every member of this formidable host is known to the “police,” but +unfortunately this advantage is almost counterbalanced by the fact that +the police are as well known to the majority of the twenty thousand. To +their experienced eyes, it is not the helmet and the blue coat that makes +the policeman. Indeed, they appear to depend not so much on visual +evidence as on some subtle power of scent such as the fox possesses in +discovering the approach of their natural enemy. They can discover the +detective in his innocent-looking smock-frock or bricklayer jacket, while +he is yet distant the length of a street. They know him by his step, or +by his clumsy affectation of unofficial loutishness. They recognise the +stiff neck in the loose neckerchief. They smell “trap,” and are superior +to it. + +There is a language current amongst them that is to be met with in no +dictionary with which I am acquainted. I doubt if even the “slang +dictionary” contains more than a few of the following instances that may +be accepted as genuine. It will be seen that the prime essential of +“thieves’ latin” is brevity. By its use, much may in one or two words be +conveyed to a comrade while rapidly passing him in the street, or, should +opportunity serve, during a visit to him while in prison. + +To erase the original name or number from a stolen watch, and substitute +one that is fictitious—_christening Jack_. + +To take the works from one watch, and case them in another—_churching +Jack_. + +Poultry stealing—_beak hunting_. + +One who steals from the shopkeeper while pretending to effect an honest +purchase—_a bouncer_. + +One who entices another to play at a game at which cheating rules, such +as card or skittle sharping—_a buttoner_. + +The treadmill, _shin scraper_ (arising, it may be assumed, on account of +the operator’s liability, if he is not careful, to get his shins scraped +by the ever-revolving wheel). + +To commit burglary—_crack a case_, or _break a drum_. + +The van that conveys prisoners to gaol—_Black Maria_. + +A thief who robs cabs or carriages by climbing up behind, and cutting the +straps that secure the luggage on the roof—_a dragsman_. + +Breaking a square of glass—_starring the glaze_. + +Training young thieves—_kidsman_. + +To be transported or sent to penal servitude—_lagged_. + +Three years’ imprisonment—_a stretch_. + +Half stretch—_six months_. + +Three months’ imprisonment—_a tail piece_. + +To rob a till—_pinch a bob_. + +A confederate in the practice of thimble rigging—_a nobbler_. + +One who assists at a sham street row for the purpose of creating a mob, +and promoting robbery from the person—_a jolly_. + +A thief who secretes goods in a shop while a confederate distracts the +attention of the shopkeeper is—_a palmer_. + +A person marked for plunder—_a plant_. + +Going out to steal linen in process of drying in gardens—_going snowing_. + +Bad money—_sinker_. + +Passer of counterfeit coins—_smasher_. + +Stolen property generally—_swag_. + +To go about half-naked to excite compassion—_on the shallow_. + +Stealing lead from the roof of houses—_flying the blue pigeon_. + +Coiners of bad money—_bit fakers_. + +Midnight prowlers who rob drunken men—_bug hunters_. + +Entering a dwelling house while the family have gone to church—_a dead +lurk_. + +Convicted of thieving—_in for a ramp_. + +A city missionary or scripture reader—_gospel grinder_. + +Shop-lifting—_hoisting_. + +Hidden from the police—_in lavender_. + +Forged bank notes—_queer screens_. + +Whipping while in prison—_scroby_ or _claws for breakfast_. + +Long-fingered thieves expert in emptying ladies’ pockets—_fine wirers_. + +The condemned cell—_the salt box_. + +The prison chaplain—_Lady Green_. + +A boy thief, lithe and thin and daring, such a one as housebreakers hire +for the purpose of entering a small window at the rear of a dwelling +house—_a little snakesman_. + +So pertinaciously do the inhabitants of criminal colonies stick to their +“latin,” that a well-known writer suggests that special religious tracts, +suiting their condition, should be printed in the language, as an almost +certain method of securing their attention. + +There can be no question that that of the professional thief is a +bitterly severe and laborious occupation, beset with privations that +moral people have no conception of, and involves an amount of mental +anxiety and torment that few human beings can withstand through a long +lifetime. Some years ago a clergyman with a thorough acquaintance with +the subject he was handling, wrote on “Thieves and Thieving,” in the +“Cornhill Magazine,” and _apropos_ of this benumbing atmosphere of dread, +that constantly encompasses even the old “professional,” he says:— + + “But if an acquaintance with the thieves’ quarters revealed to me the + amazing subtlety and cleverness of the pilfering fraternity, it also + taught me the guilty fear, the wretchedness, the moral guilt, and the + fearful hardships that fall to the lot of the professional thief. + They are never safe for a moment, and this unceasing jeopardy + produces a constant nervousness and fear. Sometimes when visiting + the sick, I have gently laid my hand on the shoulder of one of them, + who happened to be standing in the street. The man would ‘start like + a guilty thing upon a fearful summons,’ and it would take him two or + three minutes to recover his self-possession sufficiently to ask me + ‘How are you to-day, sir?’ I never saw the adage, ‘Suspicion always + haunts the guilty mind,’ so painfully illustrated as in the thieves’ + quarter, by the faces of grey-haired criminals, whose hearts had been + worn into hardness by the dishonouring chains of transportation. + When, in the dusk of the evening, I have spoken to one of them as he + stood idly on the public-house steps, I have spoken in a low and + altered tone, so that he might not at first recognise me: again the + guilty start as the man bent forward, anxiously peering into my + face.” + +He is never at rest, the wretched professional thief. He goes about with +the tools of war perpetually in his hands, and with enemies in the front +and the rear, and to the right and the left of him. “Anybody, to hear +’em talk,” a thief once remarked to me (he was a thief at present in +possession of liberty; not an incarcerated rogue plying “gammon” as the +incarcerated rogue loves to ply it), “anybody would think, to hear ’em +talk, that it was all sugar with us while we were free, and that our +sufferings did not begin until we were caught, and ‘put away.’ Them that +think so know nothing about it. Take a case, now, of a man who is in for +getting his living ‘on the cross,’ and who has got a ‘kid’ or two, and +their mother, at home. I don’t say that it is _my_ case, but you can +take it so if you like. _She_ isn’t a thief. Ask her what she knows +about me, and she’ll tell you that, wuss luck, I’ve got in co. with some +bad uns, and she wishes that I hadn’t. She wishes that I hadn’t, +p’raps—not out of any sort of Goody-two-shoes feeling, but because she +loves me. That’s the name of it; _we_ haint got any other word for the +feelin’; and she can’t bear to think that I may, any hour, be dragged off +for six mouths, or a year, p’raps. And them’s my feelings, too, and no +mistake, day after day, and Sundays as well as week-days. She isn’t +fonder of me than I am of her, I’ll go bail for that; and as for the +kids, the girl especially, why I’d skid a waggon wheel with my body +rather than her precious skin should be grazed. Well, take my word for +it, I never go out in the morning, and the young ’un sez ‘good bye,’ but +what I think ‘good bye—yes! p’raps it’s good bye for a longer spell than +you’re dreaming about, you poor little shaver.’ And when I get out into +the street, how long am I safe? Why, only for the straight length of +that street, as far as I can see the coast clear. I may find a stopper +at any turning, or at any corner. And when you _do_ feel the hand on +your collar! I’ve often wondered what must be a chap’s feelings when the +white cap is pulled over his peepers, and old Calcraft is pawing about +his throat, to get the rope right. It must be a sight worse than the +_other_ feeling, you’ll say. Well, if it is, I wonder how long the chap +manages to hold up till he’s let go!” + +I am the more anxious to remark on these lingering relics of humanity, +and, I may almost say virtue, that, if properly sought, may be discovered +in the most hardened criminals, because, of late, there appears to be a +growing inclination to treat the habitual criminal as though he had +ceased to be human, and had degenerated into the condition of the meanest +and most irreclaimable of predatory animals, fit only to be turned over +to the tender mercies of a great body of huntsmen who wear blue coats +instead of scarlet, and carry staves and handcuffs in place of whips and +horns, and to be pursued to death. I have already taken occasion in the +public newspapers, and I have much pleasure in returning to the charge +here, to exclaim against the barbarous suggestions of a gentleman holding +high position in the police force, Colonel Fraser, Commissioner of the +City Police. + +Alluding to the Habitual Criminals Bill, Colonel Fraser says:— + + “Parts 1 and 2 of the Bill are chiefly designed to ensure a clearer + police supervision than now exists over convicts at large on licence, + and to extend it to persons who have been, or may be convicted of + felony; but all the pains and penalties to which such persons are + liable are made to depend absolutely on proof being forthcoming that + the alleged offenders are actual licence holders, or convicted + felons, and the great difficulty which so frequently occurs in + obtaining this proof will present serious obstacles to a satisfactory + working of the statute. + + “Organized as the English police forces are, it will be most + difficult for them, notwithstanding the contemplated system of + registration, to account satisfactorily for the movements of licence + holders, or to obtain an effective supervision over them, if they are + determined to evade it. But the number of these convicts at large is + insignificant compared with the swarms of repeatedly-convicted + thieves, who give infinitely greater trouble to the police than + licence-holders, and who constantly escape with a light sentence, + from the impossibility of obtaining ready proof of their former + convictions.” + +Now comes the remedy for this unsatisfactory state of affairs! + + “As a remedy for this, I would suggest that every convict, on being + liberated on licence, and every person after a second conviction of + felony, should be marked in prison, on being set free, in such manner + as the Secretary of State might direct—as has been the practice in + the case of deserters, and men dismissed for misconduct from the + army: such marking to be accepted as sufficient proof of former + convictions. + + “The precise mode in which this should be effected is matter of + detail; but, by a simple combination of alphabetical letters, similar + to that employed in distinguishing postage-stamps, no two persons + need bear precisely the same mark, and the arrangement of letters + might be such as to show at a glance, not only the particular prison + in which the offender had been last confined, but also the date of + his last conviction. Copies of these marks, transmitted to the + Central Office of Registration in London, would form an invaluable + record of the history of habitual criminals, and enable the police to + obtain that reliable information as to their antecedents, the want of + which now so commonly enables practised offenders to escape the + consequences of their misdeeds. + + “Attempts might, and probably would, be made to alter the appearance + of the tell-tale imprints; but it would be impossible to efface them, + and any artificial discoloration of the skin appearing on the + particular part of the arm, or body, fixed upon for the prison mark, + should be considered as affording sufficient proof of former + convictions; unless the person charged could show—to the satisfaction + of the justice before whom he might be brought—that it was produced + by legitimate means.” + +I have ventured to transcribe, in its integrity, the main portion of +Colonel Fraser’s “new idea,” thinking that its importance demanded it. +It is significant of much that is to be regretted, coming from such a +source. It is somewhat excusable, maybe, in a common policeman—who +yesterday may have been an agricultural labourer, or a member of a +community of which no more in the way of education is expected—if he +exhibits a kind of unreasoning, watch-dog antagonism towards the criminal +classes. He is instructed in all sorts of manœuvres, and paid a guinea a +week to act _against_ them—to oppose the weight of his officially-striped +arm, and the full force of his handy staff against them, whenever he +finds plausible excuse for doing so. And, possibly, this is a condition +of affairs one should not be over eager to reform. The policeman, “too +clever by half,” is generally an instrument of injustice, and an +impediment in the way of the law’s impartial acting. So long as the +common constable remains a well-regulated machine, and fulfils his +functions without jarring or unnecessary noise, we will ask no more; but +without doubt we expect, and we have a right to expect, some display of +intelligence and humanity on the part of the chief engineer who directs +and controls these machines. An official of polite education, and +possessed of a thorough knowledge of the ways and means and the various +resources of the enemy it is his duty to provide against, should be +actuated by some more generous sentiment than that which points towards +uncompromising extermination. Colonel Fraser should bear in mind that an +act of criminality does not altogether change a man’s nature. He is a +human creature in which, perhaps through accident, perhaps through +desperate, and to some extent deliberate culture, certain growths, +injurious to the welfare of the commonwealth, have growth; but to brand, +and destroy, and crush under the heel the said creature because of his +objectionable affections, is much like smashing a set of valuable vases +because stagnant water has been permitted to accumulate in them. It may +be urged that if the said vases or men have secreted criminal vice and +fouling until their whole substance has become saturated beyond +possibility of cleansing, then the sooner they are utterly abolished the +better. To this I answer that until the best known methods of cleansing +have been tried on the foul vessels we are not in a position to say that +they are irreclaimable; and again, even provided that you might discover +certain such vessels fit for nothing but destruction, it would be a +monstrous absurdity to issue an edict ordering the annihilation of every +pot of a like pattern. And this is pretty much as Colonel Fraser would +act. + +Let the reader for a moment consider what would be the effect if such a +law as that proposed by the Commissioner of Police for the City of London +were passed. In the first place it would, in its immediate operation, +prove immensely unjust to the milder sort of criminal. If we started +anew with our army of twenty thousand to-morrow morning, and every member +of it had been convicted but once, there would be fairness (admitting +just for argument sake only that there is any fairness at all about it) +in holding out the threat that the next man who committed himself should +be branded. But, as the case stands, before a month had elapsed we +should have hundreds of unlucky wretches against whose names but two +felonious commitments stood, bearing the hateful brand, while thousands +of the old and wary of the tribe acquainted with the interior of every +prison in England would, as far as the tell-tale mark is concerned, +appear as innocent as you or I. Nor would any “alphabetical postal +system,” however ingenious and cold-blooded, avoid this difficulty. The +only way of doing full justice to the entire body of felons—the young +beginners and the old practitioners—would be, whenever the latter were +next taken to search all the prison records for convictions against them, +and score them in regular order on the delinquents’ writhing flesh. To +do this, however, Colonel Fraser would have to abandon his idea of +branding on the arm. That member would in many cases afford inadequate +space, even if you brought the chronicle from the shoulder to the finger +tips, and “turned over” and continued the length of the criminal’s palm. +As the newspaper reports frequently show, there are evil doers whose +catalogues of crimes may scarcely be expressed in a century. + +But these are the bad ones already so branded and seared in heart and +mind that to prick and scorch an inch of their outward skin would be but +to tickle their vanity, and give them to brag of another scar, got in +their life-long war against society. Short of torturing them or killing +them, it matters little what measures are provided against these +case-hardened villains. But there are scores and hundreds who though +they have earned for themselves the names of criminals, whom to class and +force to herd with the before-mentioned set would be to incur the +greatest responsibility, and one that under existing circumstances it +would be utterly short of wanton brutality to engage in. + +As regards the class last mentioned, that is to say, those members who +have at present made no very desperate acquaintance with crime and its +punishment, I believe that if they were but judiciously dealt with a very +large number would be but too glad to escape from their present life of +misery. “Many a thief,” says a writer, whose able remarks are the more +valuable, because they are founded on actual experience and conversation +with the people he treats of; “many a thief is kept in reluctant bondage +to crime from the difficulties he finds in obtaining honest employment, +and earning honest bread. Many thieves are fond of their criminal +calling. They will tell you plainly that they do not intend to work hard +for a pound a week, when they can easily earn five times as much by +thieving in less time and live like gentlemen. But others of them are +utterly weary of the hazard, disgrace, and suffering attaching to their +mode of life. Some of them were once pure, honest, and industrious, and +when they are sick, or in prison, they are frequently filled with bitter +remorse, and make the strongest vows to have done with a guilty life. + +“Suppose a man of this sort in prison. His eyes are opened, and he sees +before him the gulf of remediless ruin into which he will soon be +plunged. He knows well enough that the money earned by thieving goes as +fast as it comes, and that there is no prospect of his ever being able to +retire on his ill-gotten gains. He comes out of prison, determined to +reform. But where is he to go? What is he to do? How is he to live? +Whatever may have been done for him in prison, is of little or no avail, +if as soon as he leaves the gaol he must go into the world branded with +crime, unprotected and unhelped. The discharged prisoner must be +friendly with some one, and he must live. His criminal friends will +entertain him on the understood condition that they are repaid from the +booty of his next depredation. Thus the first food he eats, and the +first friendly chat he has, becomes the half necessitating initiative of +future crime. Frequently the newly discharged prisoner passes through a +round of riot and drunkenness immediately on his release from a long +incarceration, as any other man would do in similar circumstances, and +who has no fixed principles to sustain him. And so by reason of the +rebound of newly acquired liberty, and the influence of the old set, the +man is again demoralized. The discharged prisoner leaves gaol with good +resolves, but the moment he enters the world, there rises before him the +dark and spectral danger of being hunted down by the police, and being +recognised and insulted, of being shunned and despised by his fellow +workmen, of being everywhere contemned and forsaken.” + +There can be no doubt that to this utter want of friends of the right +sort at the moment of leaving prison, may be attributed a very large +percentage of the persistence in a career of crime by those who have once +made a false step. In this respect we treat our criminals of +comparatively a mild character with greater harshness and severity than +those whose repeated offences have led to their receiving the severest +sentences of the law. The convict who is discharged after serving a term +of five years at Portland, receives ere he quits the gates of Millbank +prison a money gratuity, varying in amount according to the character +that was returned with him from the convict establishment. Nor do the +chances that are afforded him of quitting his old course of life and +becoming an honest man end here. There is the Prisoner’s Aid Society, +where he may obtain a little more money and a suit of working clothes, +and if he really shows an inclination to reform, he may be even +recommended to a situation. Put for the poor wretch who has given +society much less offence, who has become a petty thief, probably not +from choice, but from hard necessity, and who bitterly repents of his +offences, there is no one to take him by the hand and give or lend him so +much as an honest half-crown to make a fair start with. It may be said +that the convict is most in want of help because he _is_ a convict, +because he is a man with whom robberies and violence have become so +familiar, that it is needful to provide him with some substantial +encouragement lest he slide back into the old groove. Further, because +he is a man so plainly branded that the most inexperienced policeman may +know at a glance what he is; whereas, the man who has been but once +convicted may, if he have the inclination, push his way amongst honest +men, and not one of them be the wiser as to the slip he has made. And +that would be all very well if he were assisted in rejoining the ranks of +honest bread-winners, but what is his plight when the prison door shuts +behind him? It was his poverty that urged him to commit the theft that +consigned him to gaol, and now he is turned out of it poorer than ever, +crushed and spirit-broken, and with all his manliness withered within +him. He feels ashamed and disgraced, and for the first few hours of his +liberty he would willingly shrink back for hiding, even to his prison, +because, as he thinks, people look at him so. A little timely help would +save him, but nothing is so likely as desperate “don’t care” to spring +out of this consciousness of guilt, and the suspicion of being shunned +and avoided; and the army of twenty thousand gains another recruit. + +This undoubtedly is frequently the case with the criminal guilty of but a +“first offence.” Be he man or lad, however, he will be subject to no +such painful embarrassment on his leaving prison after a second or third +conviction. By that time he will have made friends. He will have found +a companion or two to “work with,” and they will keep careful reckoning +of the date of his incarceration as well as of the duration of his term +of durance. Make no doubt that they will be on the spot to rejoice with +him on his release. They know the exact hour when the prison gate will +open and he will come forth, and there they are ready to shake hands with +him. Ready to “stand treat.” Ready to provide him with that pipe of +tobacco for which he has experienced such frequent longing, and to set +before him the foaming pot of beer. “Come along, old pal!” say they, “we +thought that you’d be glad of a drink and a bit of bacca, and we’ve got a +jolly lot of beef over some baked taters at home!” + +What becomes of all his good resolutions—of the chaplain’s wholesome +counsel now! “Shut your eyes resolutely to the temptations your old +companions may hold out to you,” were the parting words of that good man; +“if they threaten you, bid them defiance. Let it be the first test of +your good resolves to tell them plainly and boldly that you have done +with them and will have no more to do with them!” Most excellent advice +truly! but how is the emancipated one to act on it? How can he find it +in his heart to dash with cold ingratitude such warmth of generosity and +good nature? What claim has he on them that they should treat him so? +They owe him nothing, and can have no ulterior and selfish object in thus +expending their time and their money on his comfort. All that they +expect in return is, that should either of them fall into trouble similar +to his, he will exert himself for him in the same manner, and surely that +is little enough to ask. Perhaps with the chaplain’s good advice still +ringing in his ears, a sigh of lingering remorse is blended with the +outpuffing of that first delicious pipe, but it is promptly swallowed +down in the draught of free beer, with the grim reflection, perhaps, that +if those professing to be his friends came to his timely assistance as +promptly and substantially as did those his enemies, he might have been +saved the ignominy of entering anew on the old crimeful path. + +As I have endeavoured to show, the best time for treating with these +unhardened criminals for their reform, is just before they leave the +prison at the expiration of their sentence, or so soon as they have +crossed its threshold and find themselves free men. But even if they are +here missed and allowed to go their sinful way, it is not absolutely +necessary to postpone the good work until the law lays hold on them +again. The dens to which they retire are not impregnable. They do not +live in fortified caves, the doors of which are guarded by savage dogs +and by members of the gang armed with swords and pistols. It is +wonderful how docile and respectful they will behave towards folk who +visit them, treating them as nothing worse than fellow creatures +suffering under a great misfortune, and not as savage creatures of prey +who have forfeited all claim to human nature, and are fit only to be +scourged and branded. A writer already quoted tells us that during two +years in one of the largest towns in England he had unlimited access to +the thieves’ quarter at all hours and under any circumstances—weddings, +midnight gatherings, “benefit nights,” public houses, he has visited them +all. “How I gained the confidence of the criminal fraternity I cannot +say. I only sought their welfare, never went amongst them without some +good errand, never asked questions about their affairs, or meddled with +things that did not belong to me; and it is due to the thieves themselves +to say that I never received from any of them, whether drunk or sober, an +unkind look or a disrespectful word. . . . I had not pursued my quiet +mission amongst the thieves many months without discovering the damning +fact that they had no faith in the sincerity, honesty, or goodness of +human nature; and that this last and vilest scepticism of the human heart +was one of the most powerful influences at work in the continuation of +crime. They believe people in general to be no better than themselves, +and that most people will do a wrong thing if it serves their purpose. +They consider themselves better than many “square” (honest) people who +practise commercial frauds. Not having a spark of faith in human nature +their ease is all but hopeless; and only those who have tried the +experiment can tell how difficult it is to make a thief believe that you +are really disinterested and mean him well. Nevertheless, the agencies +that are at work for the arrest of crime are all more or less working to +good purpose, and conducing to a good end. Had I previously known +nothing of the zeal and labour that have been expended during the last +few years in behalf of the criminal population, I should have learned +from my intercourse with the thieves themselves, that a new spirit was +getting amongst them, and that something for their good was going on +outside thievedom. The thieves, the worst of them, speak gloomily of the +prospects of the fraternity; just as a Red Indian would complain of the +dwindling of his tribe before the strong march of advancing +civilization.” + +In every essential particular can I corroborate the above account. There +are few worse places in London than certain parts of Cow Cross, +especially that part of it anciently known as Jack Ketch’s Warren, or +“Little Hell” as the inhabitants more commonly designate it, on account +of the number of subjects it produced for the operations of the common +hangman. Only that the law is more merciful than of yore, there is +little doubt that the vile nests in question, including “Bit Alley,” and +“Broad Yard,” and “Frying Pan Alley,” would still make good its claim to +the distinguishing title conferred on it. The place indicated swarms +with thieves of every degree, from the seven-year old little robber who +snatches petty articles from stalls and shop-fronts, to the old and +experienced burglar with a wide experience of convict treatment, British +and foreign. Yet, accompanied by a city missionary well known to them, I +have many a time gone amongst them, feeling as safe as though I was +walking along Cheapside. I can give testimony even beyond that of the +writer last quoted. “I never asked questions about their affairs, or +meddled with things that did not concern me,” says the gentleman in +question. I can answer for it that my pastor friend of the Cow Cross +Mission was less forbearing. With seasoned, middle-aged scoundrels he +seldom had any conversation, but he never lost a chance of tackling young +men and lads on the evil of their ways, and to a purpose. Nor was it his +soft speech or polished eloquence that prevailed with them. He was by no +means a gloomy preacher against crime and its consequences; he had a +cheerful hopeful way with him that much better answered the purpose. He +went about his Christian work humming snatches of hymns in the liveliest +manner. One day while I was with him, we saw skulking along before us a +villanous figure, ragged and dirty, and with a pair of shoulders broad +enough to carry sacks of coal. “This,” whispered my missionary friend, +“is about the very worst character we have. He is as strong as a tiger, +and almost as ferocious. “Old Bull” they call him.” + +I thought it likely we would pass without recognising so dangerous an +animal, but my friend was not so minded. With a hearty slap on his +shoulder, the fearless missionary accosted him. + +“Well, Old Bull!” + +“Ha! ’ow do, Mr. Catlin, sir?” + +“As well as I should like to see you, my friend. How are you getting +along, Bull?” + +“Oh, werry dicky, Mr. Catlin.” And Bull hung his ears and pawed +uncomfortably in a puddle, with one slipshod foot, as though in his heart +resenting being “pinned” after this fashion. + +“You find matters going worse and worse with you, ah!” + +“They can’t be no worser than they is, that’s _one_ blessin’!” + +“Ah, now there’s where you are mistaken, Bull. They can be worse a +thousand times, and they _will_, unless you turn over a fresh leaf. Why +not, Bull? See what a tattered, filthy old leaf the old one is!” + +(Bull, with an uneasy glance towards the outlet of the alley, but still +speaking with all respect,) “Ah! it’s all that, guv’nor.” + +“Well then, since you _must_ begin on a fresh leaf, why not try the right +leaf—the honest one, eh, Bull. Just to see how you like it.” + +“All right, Mister Catlin. I’ll think about it.” + +“I wish to the Lord you would, Bull. There’s not much to laugh at, take +my word for that.” + +“All right, guv’nor, I ain’t a larfin. I means to be a reg’lar model +some day—when I get time. Morning, Mister Catlin, sir.” + +And away went “Old Bull,” with a queer sort of grin on his repulsive +countenance, evidently no better or worse for the brief encounter with +his honest adviser, but very thankful indeed to escape. + +“I’ve been up into that man’s room,” said my tough little, cheerful +missionary, “and rescued his wife out of his great cruel hands, when +three policemen stood on the stairs afraid to advance another step.” + +He would do more than in his blunt, rough-and-ready way point out to them +what a shameful waste of their lives it was to be skulking in a filthy +court all day without the courage to go out and seek their wretched +living till the darkness of night. He would offer to find them a job; he +made many friends, and was enabled to do so, earnestly exhorting them to +try honest work just for a month, to find out what it was like, and the +sweets of it. And many have tried it; some as a joke—as a whimsical feat +worth engaging in for the privilege of afterwards being able to brag of +it, and returned to their old practice in a day or two; others have tried +it, and, to their credit be it spoken, stuck to it. In my own mind I +feel quite convinced that if such men as Mr. C., of the Cow Cross +Mission, who holds the keys not only of the houses in which thieves +dwell, but, to a large extent, also, a key to the character and +peculiarities of the thieves themselves, were empowered with proper +facilities, the amount of good they are capable of performing would very +much astonish us. + + + +CHAPTER VII. +HOMES AND HAUNTS OF THE BRITISH THIEF. + + +_The Three Classes of Thieving Society_.—_Popular Misapprehensions_.—_A +True Picture of the London Thief_.—_A Fancy Sketch of the_ “_Under-Ground +Cellar_.”—_In Disguise at a Thieves’ Raffle_.—_The Puzzle of_ “_Black +Maria_.”—_Mr. Mullins’s Speech and his Song_. + +ALTHOUGH, as most people are aware, the great thief tribe reckons amongst +its number an upper, and a middle, and a lower class, pretty much as +corresponding grades of station are recognised amongst the honest +community, it is doubtful, in the former case, if promotion from one +stage to another may be gained by individual enterprise and talent and +industry. The literature of the country is from time to time enriched by +bragging autobiographies of villains confessed, as well as by the +penitent revelations of rogues reclaimed, but, according to my +observation, it does not appear that perseverance in the humbler walks of +crime lead invariably to the highway of infamous prosperity. It seems to +be an idea too preposterous even to introduce into the pages of Newgate +romance, daring in their flights of fancy as are the authors affecting +that delectable line. We have no sinister antithesis of the well-known +honest boy who tramped from Bristol to the metropolis with +twopence-halfpenny in his pocket, and afterwards became Lord Mayor of +London. No low-browed ragged little thief, who began his career by +purloining a halfpenny turnip from a costermonger’s barrow, is +immortalized in the page of the Newgate Calendar, as finally arrived at +the high distinction of wearing fashionable clothes, and ranking as the +first of swell-mobsmen. It is a lamentable fact, and one that should +have weight with aspirants for the convict’s mask and badge, that the +poor, shabby, hard-working thief so remains, till the end of his days. +There is no more chance of his carrying his shameful figure and miserable +hang-dog visage into tip-top society of his order, than there is of his +attaining the summit of that treadwheel, with the ever-recurring steps of +which he is so painfully familiar. + +And if there is a forlorn, abject, harassed wretch in the world it is the +poor, threadbare, timid London thief. I believe the popular supposition +to be that, to turn thief at least ensures for the desperate adventurer +money to squander for the time being; that however severe may be the +penalty paid for the luxury, while “luck” lasts the picker of pockets and +purloiner of his neighbour’s goods has ever at his command means +wherewith to satisfy the cravings of his vices, however extravagant they +may be—money to live on the fat of the land and get drunk and enjoy happy +spells of ease and plenty. This, no doubt, is the tempting picture the +devil holds up for the contemplation of heart-sick honesty, when patient +integrity is growing faint with hunger and long privation; and truly it +seems not an improbable picture. What inducement is there for a man to +persist in a career of dishonesty with its certain and frequent penalties +of prison and hard labour, unless his perilous avocation ensures him +spells, albeit brief ones, of intoxicating enjoyment? + +No wonder that the ignorant, sorely-tempted, out-o’-work labourer should +take this view of the case, when men, who by station and education—men +who profess to have gone out of their highly respectable paths in life to +make such inquiries as should qualify them to discuss the matter in +solemn Parliamentary conclave, declare that it is so. A curious +exhibition of the lamentable credulity of our law makers occurred no +longer ago than at the second reading of the Habitual Criminals Bill in +the House of Lords. Naturally the subject was one concerning which their +Lordships could know nothing, except by hearsay, and Earl Shaftesbury +volunteered to put them in possession of such useful information as might +guide them towards a decision as regarded the projected Bill. + +It is only fair to state, however, that his Lordship was not personally +responsible for his startling statements. He had them from a +“practitioner,” from a thief, that is to say. His Lordship did not +reveal whether it was a thief at large who was his informant: but that is +scarcely likely. Doubtless it was from some weeping villain, with an eye +to a remission of his sentence, who so frankly confided to the +soft-hearted Earl the various secrets of that terrible trade it was his +intention never, _never_ to work at again! At any rate, whoever the +“practitioner” was, he succeeded in his design completely, as the +horror-stricken visage of his lordship, as he delivered himself of the +astounding revelations, fully attested. + +They were to this effect, and the reader will please bear in mind that +they were not tendered to be received at their worth, but as facts which +might he relied on. Within the City of London, Lord Shaftesbury +declared, “crucibles and melting-pots are kept going all day and all +night. I believe that in a very large number of cases the whole of the +plate is reduced within two or three hours of the robbery to ingots of +silver. As for spoons, forks, and jewellery, they are not taken so +readily to the melting-pot; but to well-known places where there is a +pipe, similar to that which your lordships may have seen—I hope none may +have seen it of necessity—in the shop of the pawnbroker. The thief taps, +the pipe is lifted up, and in the course of a minute a hand comes out +covered with a glove, takes up the jewellery, and gives out the money for +it.” + +If that conscienceless “practitioner,” who so scandalously gulled the +good Earl, happened to be in enjoyment of liberty when the above quoted +newspaper report was printed, how he must have grinned as he perused it? +But what an unpleasant reversal of the joke it would be if the mendacious +statements of the bare-faced villain lead to the passing of a bill +imposing cruelly severe rules for the government of criminals, and the +worthy in question should one fine day find himself groaning under the +same! The most astounding part of the business however, is, that his +lordship should have given credit to such a tissue of fudge. To his +honour be it stated, he should know better. As an indefatigable labourer +amongst the poor and afflicted, his name will be remembered and blest +long after he has passed from among us. It is doubtful if any other man +whose title gives him admission to the House of Lords, could have given +nearly as much practical information on this painful subject, and there +can be no question—and this is the most unfortunate part of the +business—that all that his lordship stated was regarded as real. Every +lord present to listen to and discuss the various clauses of Lord +Kimberley’s Bill, probably took to his vivid imagination the appalling +picture of the underground cellars (to be reached only by known members +of the burglarious brotherhood who could give the sign to the guardian of +the cellar-door), where certain demon-men of the Fagin type presided +constantly over crucibles and melting-pots, wherein bubbled and hissed +the precious brew of gold and silver ornaments dissolved, the supply +being constantly renewed by the bold “cracksmen” who numerously attended +to bring the goods to market. Easier still even was it to conjure before +the mind’s eye the peculiar operations of the “pipe” that Lord +Shaftesbury so graphically described. The deserted-looking house in the +gloomy back street, with the street door always ajar so that customers +might slip in and out at it in an instant—before even the policeman on +beat could wink his sleepy eyes in amazement at the unexpected +apparition; with the sliding panel in the dimly-lighted back kitchen, and +the “spout” just like a pawnbroker’s, and the “gloved hand,” the fingers +of it twitching with eager greed for the gold watch, still warm from the +pocket of its rightful owner! How was it possible to deal with a subject +bristling so with horrors with calmness and dignity? Their lordships had +been given to understand by the mover of the bill that there were fifteen +thousand thieves constantly busy in the Metropolis alone, and Lord +Shaftesbury had informed them that the mysterious “spout” and the +melting-pot were the chief channels for converting stolen goods into +ready money. At this rate, London must be almost undermined by these +gold-melting cellars—the midnight traveller through the great city might +plainly hear and wonder at the strange tap-tapping that met his ears—the +tapping at the “spout” that notified to the owner of the gloved hand that +a new customer was in attendance? It would have been not very surprising +if the Chief Commissioner of Police had been instantly communicated with, +and given instructions at once to arrest every man and woman of the +fifteen thousand, and hold them in safe keeping until their lordships had +resolved on the most efficacious, and at the same time least painful way +of exterminating them. + +Seriously, it is impossible almost to exaggerate the amount of mischief +likely to result from such false and inflammatory pictures of an evil +that in its naked self is repulsive enough in all conscience. On the one +hand, it excites amongst the people panic and unnecessary alarm, and +furnishes the undeniable excuse of “self-defence” for any excess of +severity we may be led into; and on the other hand, it tends to magnify +the thief’s importance in the eyes of the thief, and to invest his +melancholy and everlastingly miserable avocations with precisely the same +kind of gallows-glory as is preached by the authors of “Tyburn Dick” or +the “Boy Highwayman.” Curiously enough at the conclusion of his long and +interesting speech, Lord Shaftesbury went a little out of his way to make +mention of the literature of the kind just quoted, to remark on its +intimate bearing on the crime of the country, and to intimate that +shortly the whole question would be brought under their lordships’ +consideration. It is doubtful, however, and I say so with extreme +regret, knowing as I well do how shocking even the suspicion of such a +thing must be to Lord Shaftesbury, if in any dozen “penny numbers” of the +pernicious trash in question, the young aspirant for prison fame would +find as much stimulative matter as was provided in his lordship’s speech, +or rather speeches, on the Habitual Criminal question. + +No, the affairs of those who affect the criminal walks of life are bad +enough in all conscience, but they are much less romantic than his +lordship has been led to believe. Shorn of the melo-dramatic “bandit” +costume with which they have been temporarily invested they lose nothing +in appalling effect. + +Truly, it is hard to understand, but it is an undoubted fact, that the +criminal who in police nomenclature is a “low thief” (to distinguish him, +it may be presumed, from “the respectable thief”) is without exception of +all men the most comfortless and miserable; and should the reader be so +inquisitive as to desire to be informed of the grounds on which I arrive +at this conclusion, I beg to assure him that I do not rely on hearsay, +neither do I depend on what thieves incarcerated for their offences have +told me, holding it to be hardly likely that a prisoner in prison would +vaunt his liking for crime and his eagerness to get back to it. I have +mixed with thieves at liberty, an unsuspected spy in their camp, more +than once. I will quote an example. + +This was many years since, and as at the time I published a detailed +account of the visit, I may be excused from more than briefly alluding to +it here. It was at a thieves’ raffle, held at a public-house in one of +the lowest and worst parts of Westminster. I was young in the field of +exploration then, and from all that I had heard and read made up my mind +for something very terrible and desperate. I pictured to myself a band +of rollicking desperadoes, swaggering and insolent, with plenty of money +to pay for bottles of brandy and egg-flip unlimited, and plenty of +bragging discourse of the doughty deeds of the past, and of their +cold-blooded and desperate intentions for the future. Likewise, my +expectations of hope and fear included a rich treat in the shape of +vocalization. It was one thing to hear play-actors on the stage, in +their tame and feeble delineations of the ancient game of “high Toby,” +and of the redoubtable doings of the Knights of the Road, spout such +soul-thrilling effusions as “Nix my Dolly Pals,” and “Claude Duval,” but +what must it be to listen to the same bold staves out of the mouths of +real “roaring boys,” some of them, possibly, the descendants of the very +heroes who rode “up Holborn Hill in a cart,” and who could not well hear +the good words the attendant chaplain was uttering because of the noisy +exchange of boisterous “chaff” taking place between the short-pipe +smoking driver, whose cart-seat was the doomed man’s coffin, and the +gleeful mob that had made holiday to see the fun! + +But in all this I was dismally disappointed. I had procured a ticket for +the raffle from a friendly police-inspector (goodness only knows how he +came possessed of them, but he had quite a collection of similar tickets +in his pocket-book), and, disguised for the occasion, I entered the dirty +little dram shop, and exhibited my credential to the landlord at the bar. +So far the business was promising. The said landlord was as ill-looking +a villain as could be desired. He had a broken nose and a wooden leg, +both of which deformities were doubtless symptomatic of the furious +brawls in which he occasionally engaged with his ugly customers. As I +entered he was engaged in low-whispered discourse with three ruffians who +might have been brothers of his in a similar way of business, but +bankrupt, and gone to the dogs. As I advanced to the bar the four +cropped heads laid together in iniquity, separated suddenly, and the +landlord affected a look of innocence, and hummed a harmless tune in a +way that was quite melodramatic. + +I intimated my business, and he replied shortly, “Go on through,” at the +same time indicating the back door by a jerk of his thumb over his +shoulder. Now for it! On the other side of the back door I discovered a +stone yard, at the extremity of which was dimly visible in the darkness a +long, low, dilapidated building, with a light shining through the chinks. +This, then, was the robber’s den!—a place to which desperate men and +women who made robbery and outrage the nightly business of their lives, +resorted to squander in riot and debauchery their ill-gotten gains! It +would not have surprised me had I found the doorkeeper armed with a pair +of “trusty barkers,” and every male guest of the company with a +life-preserver sticking out at the breast pocket of his coat. + +The door was opened in response to my tap at it. I gave the potman there +stationed my ticket, and I entered. I must confess that my first +sensation as I cast my eye carelessly around, was one of disgust that I +should have been induced to screw up my courage with so much pains for so +small an occasion. The building I found myself in was a skittle-ground, +furnished with forms and tables; and there were present about thirty +persons. As well as I can remember, of this number a third were women, +young generally, one or two being mere girls of sixteen, or so. But +Jenny Diver was not there, nor Poll Maggot, nor Edgeworth Bess. No lady +with ringlets curling over her alabaster shoulders found a seat on the +knee of the gallant spark of her choice. No Captain Macheath was to be +seen elegantly taking snuff out of a stolen diamond snuff-box, or +flinging into the pink satin lap of his lady love a handful of guineas to +pay for more brandy. Poor wretches! the female shoulders there assembled +spoke rather of bone than alabaster, while the washed-out and mended +cotton frocks served in place of pink satin, and hair of most humble +fashion surmounted faces by no means expressive either of genuine +jollity, or even of a desperate determination towards devil-may-careness, +and the drowning of care in the bowl. There were no bowls, even, as in +the good old time, only vulgar pewter porter pots, out of which the +company thankfully swigged its fourpenny. There was no appearance of +hilarity, or joviality even; no more of brag and flourish, or of +affectation of ease and freedom, than though every man and woman present +were here locked up “on remand,” and any moment might be called out to +face that damning piece of kept-back evidence they all along dreaded was +in store for them. To be sure it was as yet early in the evening, and +though the company may have assembled mainly for the purpose of drowning +“dull care,” that malicious imp being but recently immersed, may have +been superior at present to their machinations, and able to keep his ugly +head above the liquid poured out for his destruction. Or may be, again, +being a very powerful “dull care,” of sturdy and mature growth, he might +be able to hold out through many hours against the weak and watery +elements brought to oppose him. + +Anyhow, so far as I was able to observe, there was no foreshadowing of +the blue and brooding imp’s defeat. His baneful wings seemed spread from +one end of the skittle-alley to the other, and to embrace even the +chairman, who being a Jew, and merely a receiver of stolen goods, might +reasonably have been supposed to be less susceptible than the rest. +There would seem to prevail, amongst a large and innocent section of the +community, a belief that the thief is a creature distinguished no less by +appearance than by character from the honest host he thrives by. I have +heard it remarked more than once, by persons whose curiosity has led them +to a criminal court when a trial of more than ordinary interest is +proceeding, that really this prisoner or that did not _look_ like a +thief, or a forger, or stabber, as the case might be. “Lord bless us,” I +once heard an elderly lady exclaim, in the case of an oft-convicted +scoundrel of the “swell mob” tribe, over whose affecting trial she had +shed many tears, “Lord bless us!” said she, as the jury found him guilty, +and sentenced him to two years’ hard labour, “so thin, and genteel, and +with spectacles on, too! I declare I should have passed that young man +twenty times without dreaming of calling out for the police.” On the +other hand, there are very many persons less ingenuous than the old lady, +who invariably regard a man through the atmosphere of crime, real or +supposed, that envelopes him, and by means of its distorting influence +make out such a villain as satisfies their sagacity. Had one of this +last order been favoured with a private view of the company assembled to +assist at Mr. Mullins’s raffle, and have been previously informed that +they were one and all thieves, in all probability they would have +_appeared_ thieves; but I am convinced that had they been shown to an +unprepared and unprejudiced observer, his opinion would have been that +the company gathered in the skittle-alley of the “Curly Badger” were no +worse than a poor set of out-o’-work tailors, or French polishers, or +weavers, or of some other craft, the members of which affect the +gentility that black clothes and a tall hat is supposed to confer on the +wearer; nor would an hour in their society, such as I spent, have +sufficed to dissipate the innocent impression. Their expenditure was of +the most modest sort, not one man in six venturing beyond the pot of +beer. Their conversation, though not the most elegant, was least of all +concerning the wretched trade they followed; indeed, the subject was +never mentioned at all, except in melancholy allusion to Peter or Jerry, +who had been recently “copped” (taken), and was expected to pass “a tail +piece in the steel” (three months in prison). There was one observation +solemnly addressed by one elderly man to another elderly man, the purport +of which at the time puzzled me not a little. “Unlucky! Well you may +say it. Black Maria is the only one that’s doin’ a trade now. Every +journey full as a tuppenny omblibus!” I listened intently as prudence +would permit for further reference to the mysterious female who was doing +“all the trade,” and “every journey” was “as full as a twopenny omnibus,” +but nothing in the conversation transpired tending to throw a light on +the dark lady; so I mentally made a note of it for reference to my friend +the inspector. He laughed. “Well, she has been doing a brisk stroke of +business of late, I must say,” said he. “Black Maria, sir, is our van of +that colour that carries ’em off to serve their time.” + +But, as before observed, there was nothing in the demeanour of either the +men or women present at Mullins’s raffle to denote either that they +revelled in the nefarious trade they followed, or that they derived even +ordinary comfort and satisfaction from it. To be sure, it may have +happened that the specimens of the thief class assembled before me were +not of the briskest, but taking them as they were, and bearing in mind +the spiritless, hang-dog, mean, and shabby set they were, the notion of +bringing to bear on them such tremendous engines of repression as that +suggested by the humane Commissioner of the City Police appears nothing +short of ridiculous. + +At the same time, I would have it plainly understood that my pity for the +thief of this class by no means induces me to advise that no more +effective means than those which at present exist should be adopted for +his abolition. A people’s respect for the laws of the country is its +chief pillar of strength, and those who have no respect for the laws, act +as so many rats undermining the said pillar, and although the rats +assembled at Mullins’s raffle were not of a very formidable breed, their +hatred of the law, and their malicious defiance of it, was unmistakeable. +For instance, the article to be raffled was a silk pocket handkerchief, +and there it was duly displayed hanging across a beam at the end of the +skittle-ground. The occasion of the raffle was, that Mr. Mullins had +just been released after four months’ imprisonment, and that during his +compulsory absence from home matters had gone very bad, and none the less +so because poor Mrs. Mullins was suffering from consumption. In alluding +to these sad details of his misfortune, Mr. Mullins, in returning thanks +for the charity bestowed on him, looked the picture of melancholy. +“Whether she means ever to get on her legs again is more than I can say,” +said he, wagging his short-cropped head dolefully, “there ain’t much +chance, I reckon, when you’re discharged from Brompton incurable. Yes, +my friends, it’s all agin me lately, and my luck’s regler out. But +there’s one thing I must mention” (and here he lifted his head with +cheerful satisfaction beaming in his eyes), “and I’m sure you as doesn’t +know it will be very glad to hear it—the handkerchief wot’s put up to +raffle here is the wery identical one that I was put away for.” And +judging from the hearty applause that followed this announcement, there +can be no doubt that Mr. Mullins’s audience were very glad indeed to hear +it. + +But even after this stimulant, the spirits of the company did not rally +anything to speak of. Song singing was started, but nobody sung “Nix my +Dolly Pals,” or “Claude Duval.” Nobody raised a roaring chant in honour +of “ruby wine,” or the flowing bowl, or even of the more humble, though +no less genial, foaming can. There was a comic song or two, but the +ditties in favour were those that had a deeply sentimental or even a +funereal smack about them. The gentleman who had enlightened me as to +Black Maria sang the Sexton, the chorus to which lively stave, “I’ll +provide you such a lodging as you never had before,” was taken up with +much heartiness by all present. Mullins himself, who possessed a fair +alto voice, slightly damaged perhaps by a four months’ sojourn in the +bleak atmosphere of Cold Bath Fields, sang “My Pretty Jane,” and a very +odd sight it was to observe that dogged, jail-stamped countenance of his +set, as accurately as Mullins could set it, to an expression matching the +bewitching simplicity of the words of the song. I was glad to observe +that his endeavours were appreciated and an encore demanded. + +Decidedly the songs, taken as a whole, that the thieves sang that evening +in the Skittle Saloon of the “Curly Badger” were much less objectionable +than those that may be heard any evening at any of our London music +halls, and everything was quiet and orderly. Of course I cannot say to +what extent this may have been due to certain rules and regulations +enforced by the determined looking gentleman who served behind the bar. +There was one thing, however, that he could not enforce, and that was the +kindliness that had induced them to meet together that evening. I had +before heard, as everybody has, of “honour amongst thieves,” but I must +confess that I had never suspected that compassion and charity were +amongst the links that bound them together; and when I heard the +statement from the chair of the amount subscribed (the “raffle” was a +matter of form, and the silk handkerchief a mere delicate concealment of +the free gift of shillings), when I heard the amount and looked round and +reckoned how much a head that might amount to, and further, when I made +observation of the pinched and poverty-stricken aspect of the owners of +the said heads, I am ashamed almost to confess that if within the next +few days I had caught an investigating hand in my coat-tail pockets, I +should scarcely have had the heart to resist. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +JUVENILE THIEVES. + + +_The Beginning of the Downhill Journey_.—_Candidates for Newgate +Honours_.—_Black Spots of London_.—_Life from the Young Robber’s Point of +View_.—_The Seedling Recruits the most difficult to reform_.—_A doleful +Summing-up_.—_A Phase of the Criminal Question left unnoticed_.—_Budding +Burglars_.—_Streams which keep at full flood the Black Sea of +Crime_.—_The Promoters of_ “_Gallows Literature_.”—_Another Shot at a +Fortress of the Devil_.—“_Poison-Literature_.”—“_Starlight +Sall_.”—“_Panther Bill_.” + +IT is quite true that, counting prostitutes and receivers of stolen +goods, there are twenty thousand individuals eating the daily bread of +dishonesty within the city of London alone; there are many more than +these. And the worst part of the business is, that those that are +omitted from the batch form the most painful and repulsive feature of the +complete picture. Shocking enough is it to contemplate the white-haired, +tottering criminal holding on to the front of the dock because he dare +not trust entirely his quaking legs, and with no more to urge in his +defence than Fagin had when it came to the last—“an old man, my lord, a +very old man;” and we give him our pity ungrudgingly because we are no +longer troubled with fears for his hostility as regards the present or +the future. It is all over with him or very nearly. The grave yawns for +him and we cannot help feeling that after all he has hurt himself much +more than he has hurt us, and when we reflect on the awful account he +will presently be called on to answer, our animosity shrinks aside, and +we would recommend him to mercy if it were possible. No, it is not those +who have run the length of their tether of crime that we have to fear, +but those who by reason of their tender age are as yet but feeble +toddlers on the road that leads to the hulks. It would be instructive as +well as of great service if reliable information could be obtained as to +the beginning of the down-hill journey by our juvenile criminals. +Without doubt it would be found that in a lamentably large number of +cases the beginning did not rest in the present possessors at all, but +that they were bred and nurtured in it, inheriting it from their parents +as certain forms of physical disease are inherited. + +In very few instances are they _trained_ to thieving by a father who +possibly has gone through all the various phases of criminal punishment, +from the simple local oakum shed and treadmill to the far-away stone +quarry and mineral mine, and so knows all about it. The said human wolf +and enemy of all law and social harmony, his progenitor, does not take +his firstborn on his knee as soon as he exhibits symptoms of knowing +right from wrong, and do his best to instil into his young mind what as a +candidate for Newgate honours the first principles of his life should be. + +This would be bad enough, but what really happens is worse. To train +one’s own child to paths of rectitude it is necessary to make him aware +of the existence of paths of iniquity and wrong, that when inadvertently +he approaches the latter, he may recognise and shun them. So on the +other hand, if by the devil’s agency a child is to be made bold and +confident in the wrong road, the right must be exhibited to him in a +light so ridiculous as to make it altogether distasteful to him. Still a +comparison is instituted, and matters may so come about that one day he +may be brought to re-consider the judiciousness of his choice and perhaps +to reverse his previous decision. But if he has received no teaching at +all; if in the benighted den in which he is born, and in which his +childish intellect dawns, no ray of right and truth ever penetrates, and +he grows into the use of his limbs and as much brains as his brutish +breeding affords him, and with no other occupation before him than to +follow in the footsteps of his father the thief—how much more hopeless is +his case? + +Does the reader ask, are there such cases? I can answer him in sorrowful +confidence, that in London alone they may be reckoned in thousands. In +parts of Spitalfields, in Flower and Dean Street, and in Kent Street, and +many other streets that might be enumerated, they are the terror of small +shopkeepers, and in Cow Cross, with its horrible chinks in the wall that +do duty for the entrance of courts and alleys—Bit Alley, Frying Pan +Alley, Turk’s Head-court, and Broad Yard, they swarm like mites in rotten +cheese. As a rule, the police seldom make the acquaintance of this +thievish small fry (if they did, the estimated number of London robbers +would be considerably augmented); but occasionally, just as a sprat will +make its appearance along with a haul of mackerel, one reads in the +police reports of “Timothy Mullins, a very small boy, whose head scarcely +reached the bar of the dock;” or of “John Smith, a child of such tender +age that the worthy magistrate appeared greatly shocked,” charged with +some one of the hundred acts of petty pilfering by means of which the +poor little wretches contrive to stave off the pangs of hunger. Where is +the use of reasoning with Master Mullins on his evil propensities? The +one propensity of his existence is that of the dog—to provide against +certain gnawing pains in his belly. If he has another propensity, it is +to run away out of dread for consequences, which is dog-like too. All +the argument you can array against this little human waif with one idea, +will fail to convince him of his guilt; he has his private and +deeply-rooted opinion on the matter, you may depend, and if he screws his +fists into his eyes, and does his earnest best to make them water—if when +in the magisterial presence he contorts his countenance in affected +agony, it is merely because he perceives from his worship’s tone that he +wishes to agonize him, and is shrewd enough to know that to “give in +best,” as he would express it, is the way to get let off easy. + +But supposing that he were not overawed by the magisterial presence, and +felt free to speak what is foremost in his mind unreservedly as he would +speak it to one of his own set. Then he would say, “It is all very fine +for you to sit there, you that have not only had a jolly good breakfast, +but can afford to sport a silver toothpick to pick your teeth with +afterwards, it is all very fine for you to preach to me that I never +shall do any good, but one of these days come to something that’s +precious bad, if I don’t cut the ways of thieving, and take to honest +ways. There’s so many different kinds of honest ways. _Yours_ is a good +’un. I ain’t such a fool as not to know that it’s better to walk in +honest ways like them _you’ve_ got into, and to wear gold chains and +velvet waistcoats, than to prowl about in ragged corduroys, and dodge the +pleeseman, and be a prig: but how am I to get into them sorts of honest +ways? Will you give me a hist up to ’em? Will you give me a leg-up—I’m +such a little cove, you see—on to the bottom round of the ladder that +leads up to ’em? If it ain’t in your line to do so, p’raps you could +recommend me to a lady or gentleman that would? No! Then, however am +_I_ to get into honest ways? Shall I make a start for ’em soon as I +leaves this ere p’lice office, from which you are so werry kind as to +discharge me? Shall I let the chances of stealing a turnip off a stall, +or a loaf out of a baker’s barrow, go past me, while I keep straight on, +looking out for a honest way?—straight on, and straight on, till I gets +the hungry staggers (_you_ never had the hungry staggers, Mr. +Magistrate), and tumble down on the road? I am not such a fool, thank’e. +I don’t see the pull of it. I can do better in dishonest ways. I’m much +obliged to YOU. I’m sure of a crust, though a hard ’un, while I stick to +the latter, and if I break down, you’ll take care of me for a spell, and +fatten me up a bit; but s’pose I go on the hunt after them honest ways +you was just now preaching about, and I miss ’em, what am I then? A +casual pauper, half starved on a pint of skilly, or ‘a shocking case of +destitution,’ and the leading character in a coroner’s inquest!” All +this Master Timothy Mullins might urge, and beyond favouring him with an +extra month for contempt of court, what could the magistrate do or say? + +Swelling the ranks of juvenile thieves we find in large numbers the +thief-born. Writing on this subject, a reverend gentleman of wisdom and +experience says, “Some are thieves from infancy. Their parents are +thieves in most cases; in others, the children are orphans, or have been +forsaken by their parents, and in such cases the children generally fall +into the hands of the professional thief-trainer. In every low criminal +neighbourhood there are numbers of children who never knew their parents, +and who are fed and clothed by the old thieves, and made to earn their +wages by dishonest practices. When the parent thieves are imprisoned or +transported, their children are left to shift for themselves, and so fall +into the hands of the thief-trainer. Here, then, is one great source of +crime. These children are nurtured in it. They come under no good moral +influence; and until the ragged-schools were started, they had no idea of +honesty, not to mention morality and religion. Sharpened by hunger, +intimidated by severe treatment, and rendered adroit by vigilant +training, this class of thieves is perhaps the most numerous, the most +daring, the cleverest, and the most difficult to reform. In a moral +point of view, these savages are much worse off than the savages of the +wilderness, inasmuch as all the advantages of civilization are made to +serve their criminal habits. The poor, helpless little children +literally grow up into a criminal career, and have no means of knowing +that they are wrong; they cannot help themselves, and have strong claims +on the compassion of every lover of his species.” + +Truly enough these seedling recruits of the criminal population are the +most difficult to reform. They are impregnable alike to persuasion and +threatening. They have an ingrain conviction that it is _you_ who are +wrong, not them. That you are wrong in the first place in appropriating +all the good things the world affords, leaving none for them but what +they steal; and in the next place, they regard all your endeavours to +persuade them to abandon the wretched life of a thief for the equally +poor though more creditable existence of the honest lad, as humbug and +selfishness. “No good feeling is ever allowed to predominate; all their +passions are distorted, all their faculties are perverted. They believe +the clergy are all hypocrites, the judges and magistrates tyrants, and +honest people their bitterest enemies. Believing these things sincerely, +and believing nothing else, their hand is against every man, and the more +they are imprisoned the more is their dishonesty strengthened.” + +This is, indeed, a doleful summing up of our present position and future +prospects as regards so large a percentage of those we build prisons for. +It is somewhat difficult to avoid a feeling of exasperation when, as an +honest man, and one who finds it at times a sore pinch to pay rates and +taxes, one contemplates the ugly, hopeless picture. Still, we should +never forget that these are creatures who are criminal not by their own +seeking. They are as they were born and bred and nurtured, and the only +way of relieving society of the pest they are against it, is to take all +the care we may to guard against the ravages of those we have amongst us, +and adopt measures for the prevention of their breeding a new generation. + +How this may be accomplished is for legislators to decide. Hitherto it +has appeared as a phase of the criminal question that has attracted very +little attention on the part of our law makers. They appear, however, to +be waking up to its importance at last. Recently, in the House of Lords, +Lord Romilly suggested that the experiment might be tried of taking away +from the home of iniquity they were reared in the children of twice or +thrice convicted thieves above the age of ten years; taking them away for +good and all and placing them under State protection; educating them, and +giving them a trade. If I rightly recollect, his lordship’s suggestion +did not meet with a particularly hearty reception. Some of his hearers +were of opinion that it was setting a premium on crime, by affording the +habitual thief just that amount of domestic relief he in his selfishness +would be most desirous of. But Lord Romilly combated this objection with +the reasonable rejoinder, that by mere occupation the nature of the thief +was not abased below that of the brute, and that it was fair to assume +that so far from encouraging him to qualify himself for State patronage, +his dread of having his children taken from him might even check him in +his iniquitous career. + +One thing, at least, is certain; it would come much _cheaper_ to the +country if these budding burglars and pickpockets were caught up, and +caged away from the community at large, before their natures became too +thoroughly pickled in the brine of rascality. Boy thieves are the most +mischievous and wasteful. They will mount a house roof, and for the sake +of appropriating the half-a-crown’s worth of lead that forms its gutter, +cause such damage as only a builder’s bill of twenty pounds or so will +set right. The other day a boy stole a family Bible valued at fifty +shillings, and after wrenching off the gilt clasps, threw the book into a +sewer; the clasps he sold to a marine store dealer for _twopence +halfpenny_! It may be fairly assumed that in the case of boy thieves, +who are so completely in the hands of others, that before they can “make” +ten shillings in cash, they must as a rule steal to the value of at least +four pounds, and sometimes double that sum. But let us put the loss by +exchange at its lowest, and say that he gets a fourth of the value of +what he steals, before he can earn eighteenpence a day, he must rob to +the amount of two guineas a week—a hundred and nine pounds a year! +Whatever less sum it costs the State to educate and clothe and teach him, +the nation would be in pocket. + +It would be idle to attempt to trace back to its origin the incentive to +crime in the class of small criminals here treated of. Innocent of the +meaning of the term “strict integrity,” they are altogether unconscious +of offending against it. They may never repent, for they can feel no +remorse for having followed the dictates of their nature. No possible +good can arise from piecing and patching with creditable stuff the old +cloak of sin they were clothed in at their birth, and have worn ever +since, till it has become a second skin to them. ‘Before they can be of +any real service as members of an honest community, they must be +_reformed_ in the strictest sense of the term. Their tainted morality +must he laid bare to the very bones, as it were, and its rotten +foundation made good from its deepest layer. The arduousness of this +task it is hard to overrate; nothing, indeed, can be harder, except it be +to weed out from an adult criminal the tough and gnarled roots of sin +that grip and clasp about and strangle his better nature. And this +should be the child criminal reformer’s comfort and encouragement. + +It must not be imagined, however, that the growth of juvenile criminality +is altogether confined to those regions where it is indigenous to the +soil; were it so, our prospects of relief would appear much more hopeful +than at present, for, as before stated, all that is necessary would be to +sow the baleful ground with the saving salt of sound and wholesome +teaching, and the ugly vegetation would cease. + +But there are other and more formidable sources from which flow the +tributary streams that feed and keep at full flood our black sea of +crime; more formidable, because they do not take the shape of +irrepressible springs that make for the surface, simply because they are +impelled thereto by forces they have not the strength to combat against, +but rather of well planned artificial aqueducts and channels, and on the +development of which much of intellect is expended. It is much harder to +deal with the boy who, well knowing right from wrong, chooses the latter, +than with the boy who from the beginning has been wrong from not knowing +what right is. + +Moreover, the boy who has been taught right from wrong, the boy who has +been sent to school and knows how to read, has this advantage over his +poor brother of the gutter—an advantage that tells with inexpressible +severity against the community at large; he has trainers who, discovering +his weakness, make it their profit and business to take him by the hand +and bring him along in that path of life to which his dishonest +inclination has called him. + +I allude to those low-minded, nasty fellows, the proprietors and +promoters of what may be truthfully described as “gallows literature.” +As a curse of London, this one is worthy of a special niche in the temple +of infamy, and to rank first and foremost. The great difficulty would be +to find a sculptor of such surpassing skill as to be able to pourtray in +one carved stone face all the hideous vices and passions that should +properly belong to it. It is a stale subject, I am aware. In my humble +way, I have hammered at it both in newspapers and magazines, and many +better men have done the same. Therefore it is stale. For no other +reason. The iniquity in itself is as vigorous and hearty as ever, and +every week renews its brimstone leaves (meanwhile rooting deeper and +deeper in the soil that nourishes it), but unfortunately it comes under +the category of evils, the exposure of which the public “have had enough +of.” It is very provoking, and not a little disheartening, that it +should be so. Perhaps this complaint may be met by the answer: The +public are not tired of this one amongst the many abuses that afflict its +soul’s health, it is only tired of being reminded of it. Explorers in +fields less difficult have better fortune. As, for instance, the +fortunate discoverer of a gold field is. Everybody would be glad to +shake him by the hand—the hand that had felt and lifted the weight of the +nuggets and the yellow chips of dust; nay, not a few would be willing to +trim his finger nails, on the chance of their discovering beneath enough +of the auriferous deposit to pay them for their trouble. But, to be +sure, in a city of splendid commercial enterprise such as is ours, it can +scarcely be expected that that amount of honour would be conferred on the +man who would remove a plague from its midst as on the one whose +magnificent genius tended to fatten the money-bags in the Bank cellars. + +At the risk, however, of being stigmatized as a man with a weakness for +butting against stone walls, I cannot let this opportunity slip, or +refrain from firing yet once again my small pop-gun against this fortress +of the devil. The reader may have heard enough of the abomination to +suit his taste, and let him rest assured that the writer has written more +than enough to suit _his_; but if every man set up his “taste” as the +goal and summit of his striving, any tall fellow a tip-toe might, after +all, see over the heads of most of us. The main difficulty is that the +tens and hundreds of thousands of boys who stint a penny from its more +legitimate use to purchase a dole of the pernicious trash in question, +have _not_ “had enough of it.” Nothing can be worse than this, except it +is that the purveyors of letter-press offal have not had enough of it +either, but, grown prosperous and muscular on the good feeding their +monstrous profits have ensured them, they are continually opening up +fresh ground, each patch fouler and more pestilent than the last. + +At the present writing I have before me half-a-dozen of these penny +weekly numbers of “thrilling romance,” addressed to boys, and circulated +entirely among them—and girls. It was by no means because the number of +these poison pen’orths on sale is small that a greater variety was not +procured. A year or so since, wishing to write a letter on the subject +to a daily newspaper, I fished out of one little newsvendor’s shop, +situated in the nice convenient neighbourhood of Clerkenwell, which, more +than any other quarter of the metropolis, is crowded with working +children of both sexes, the considerable number of _twenty-three_ samples +of this gallows literature. But if I had not before suspected it, my +experience on that occasion convinced me that to buy more than a third of +that number would be a sheer waste of pence. To be sure, to expect +honest dealing on the part of such fellows as can dabble in “property” of +the kind in question, is in the last degree absurd, but one would think +that they would, for “business” reasons, maintain some show of giving a +pen’orth for a penny. Such is not the case, however. In three instances +in my twenty-three numbers, I found the self-same story published _twice_ +under a different title, while for at least half the remainder the +variance from their brethren is so very slight that nobody but a close +reader would discover it. + +The six-pen’orth before me include, “The Skeleton Band,” “Tyburn Dick,” +“The Black Knight of the Road,” “Dick Turpin,” “The Boy Burglar,” and +“Starlight Sall.” If I am asked, is the poison each of these papers +contains so cunningly disguised and mixed with harmless-seeming +ingredients, that a boy of shrewd intelligence and decent mind might be +betrayed by its insidious seductiveness? I reply, no. The only subtlety +employed in the precious composition is that which is employed in +preserving it from offending the blunt nostrils of the law to such a +degree as shall compel its interference. If it is again inquired, do I, +though unwillingly, acknowledge that the artful ones, by a wonderful +exercise of tact and ingenuity, place the law in such a fix that it would +not be justified in interfering? I most distinctly reply, that I +acknowledge nothing of the kind; but that, on the contrary, I wonder very +much at the clumsiness of a legislative machine that can let so much +scoundrelism slip through its cogs and snares. + +The daring lengths these open encouragers of boy highwaymen and Tyburn +Dicks will occasionally go to serve their villanous ends is amazing. It +is not more than two or three years since, that a prosperous member of +the gang, whose business premises were in, or within a few doors of Fleet +Street, by way of giving a fair start to his published account of some +thief and murderer, publicly advertised that the buyers of certain +numbers would be entitled to a chance of a Prize in a grand distribution +of _daggers_. Specimens of the deadly weapons (made, it may be assumed, +after the same fashion as that one with which “flash Jack,” in the +romance, pinned the police officer in the small of his back) were +exhibited in the publisher’s shop window, and in due course found their +way into the hands of silly boys, with minds well primed for “daring +exploits,” by reading “numbers 2 and 3 given away with number 1.” + +It is altogether a mistake, however, to suppose that the poison +publisher’s main element of success consists in his glorification of +robbers and cut-throats. To be sure he can by no means afford to +dispense with the ingredients mentioned in the concoction of his vile +brew, but his first and foremost reliance is on lewdness. Everything is +subservient to this. He will picture to his youthful readers a hero of +the highway, so ferocious in his nature, and so reckless of bloodshed, +that he has earned among his comrades the flattering nick-name of “the +Panther.” He will reveal the bold panther in all his glory, cleaving the +skull of the obstinate old gentleman in his travelling carriage, who will +not give up his money, or setting an old woman on the kitchen fire, as a +just punishment for hiding her guineas in the oven, in fishing them out +of which the panther burns his fingers; he will exhibit the crafty +“panther” wriggling his way through the floor boards of his cell, into a +sewer beneath, and through which he is to make his escape to the river, +and then by a flourish of his magic pen, he will convey the “panther” to +the “boudoir” of Starlight Sall, and show you how weak a quality valour +is in the presence of “those twin queens of the earth,” youth and beauty! +The brave panther, when he has once crossed the threshold of that +splendid damsel (who, by the way, is a thief, and addicted to drinking +brandy by the “bumper”) is, vulgarly speaking, “nowhere.” The haughty +curl of his lip, the glance of his eagle eye, “the graceful contour of +his manly form,” a mere gesture of which is sufficient to quell rising +mutiny amongst his savage crew, all fall flat and impotent before the +queenly majesty of Sall. But there is no fear that the reader will lose +his faith in Panther Bill, because of this weakness confessed. As drawn +by the Author (does the pestiferous rascal so style himself, I wonder?) +Starlight Sall is a creature of such exquisite loveliness, that Jupiter +himself might have knelt before her. She is such a matchless combination +of perfection, that it is found necessary to describe her charms +separately, and at such length that the catalogue of the whole extends +through at least six pages. + +It is in this branch of his devilish business that the author of +“Starlight Sall” excels. It is evident that the man’s mind is in his +work, and he lingers over it with a loving hand. Never was there such a +tender anatomist. He begins Sall’s head, and revels in her auburn +tresses, that “in silken, snaky locks wanton o’er her shoulders, white as +eastern ivory.” He is not profound in foreheads, and hers he passes over +as “chaste as snow,” or in noses, Sall’s being described briefly as +“finely chiselled;” but he is well up in the language of eyes—the bad +language. He skirmishes playfully about those of Sall, and discourses of +her eyebrows as “ebon brow,” from which she launches her excruciating +shafts of love. He takes her by the eye-lashes, and describes them as +the “golden fringe that screens the gates of paradise,” and finally he +dips into Sall’s eyes, swimming with luscious languor, and pregnant with +tender inviting to Panther Bill, who was consuming in ardent affection, +as “the rippling waves of the bright blue sea to the sturdy swimmer.” It +is impossible here to repeat what else is said of the eyes of Starlight +Sall, or her teeth, “like rich pearls,” or of her “pouting coral lips, in +which a thousand tiny imps of love are lurking.” Bear it in mind that +this work of ours is designed for the perusal of thinking men and women; +that it is not intended as an amusing work, but as an endeavour to +pourtray to Londoners the curses of London in a plain and unvarnished +way, in hope that they may be stirred to some sort of absolution from +them. As need not be remarked, it would be altogether impossible to the +essayer of such a task, if he were either squeamish or fastidious in the +handling of the material at his disposal; but I _dare_ not follow our +author any further in his description of the personal beauties of +Starlight Sall. Were I to do so, it would be the fate of this book to be +flung into the fire, and every decent man who met me would regard himself +justified in kicking or cursing me; and yet, good fathers and mothers of +England—and yet, elder brothers and grown sisters, tons of this bird-lime +of the pit is vended in London every day of the Christian year. + +Which of us can say that _his_ children are safe from the contamination? +Boys well-bred, as well as ill-bred, are mightily inquisitive about such +matters, and the chances are very clear, sir, that if the said bird-lime +were of a sort not more pernicious than that which sticks to the fingers, +we might at this very moment find the hands of my little Tom and your +little Jack besmeared with it. Granted, that it is unlikely, that it is +in the last degree improbable, even; still, the remotest of probabilities +have before now shown themselves grim actualities, and just consider for +a moment the twinge of horror that would seize on either of us were it to +so happen! Let us for a moment picture to ourselves our fright and +bewilderment, if we discovered that our little boys were feasting off +this deadly fruit in the secrecy of their chambers! Would it then appear +to us that it was a subject the discussion of which we had “had enough +of”? Should we be content, _then_, to shrug our shoulders after the old +style, and exclaim impatiently against the barbarous taste of writers who +were so tiresomely meddlesome? Not likely. The pretty consternation +that would ensue on the appalling discovery!—the ransacking of boxes and +cupboards, to make quite sure that no dreg of the poison, in the shape of +an odd page or so, were hidden away!—the painful examination of the +culprit, who never till now dreamt of the enormity of the thing he had +been doing!—the reviling and threatening that would be directed against +the unscrupulous news-agent who had supplied the pernicious pen’orth! +Good heavens! the tremendous rumpus there would be! But, thank God, +there is no fear of _that_ happening. + +Is there not? What are the assured grounds of safety? Is it because it +stands to reason that all such coarse and vulgar trash finds its level +amongst the coarse and vulgar, and could gain no footing above its own +elevation? It may so stand in reason, but unfortunately it is the +unreasonable fact that this same pen poison finds customers at heights +above its natural low and foul water-line almost inconceivable. How +otherwise is it accountable that at least a _quarter of a million_ of +these penny numbers are sold weekly? How is it that in quiet suburban +neighbourhoods, far removed from the stews of London, and the pernicious +atmosphere they engender; in serene and peaceful semi-country towns where +genteel boarding schools flourish, there may almost invariably be found +some small shopkeeper who accommodatingly receives consignments of +“Blue-skin,” and the “Mysteries of London,” and unobtrusively supplies +his well-dressed little customer with these full-flavoured articles? +Granted, my dear sir, that your young Jack, or my twelve years old +Robert, have minds too pure either to seek out or crave after literature +of the sort in question, but not unfrequently it is found without +seeking. It is a contagious disease, just as cholera and typhus and the +plague are contagious, and, as everybody is aware, it needs not personal +contact with a body stricken to convey either of these frightful maladies +to the hale and hearty. A tainted scrap of rag has been known to spread +plague and death through an entire village, just as a stray leaf of +“Panther Bill,” or “‘Tyburn Tree” may sow the seeds of immorality amongst +as many boys as a town can produce. + + + +CHAPTER IX. +THE THIEF NON-PROFESSIONAL. + + +_The Registered and the Unregistered Thieves of the London +Hunting-ground_.—_The Certainty of the Crop of Vice_.—_Omnibus Drivers +and Conductors_.—_The_ “_Watchers_.”—_The London General Omnibus +Company_.—_The Scandal of their System_.—_The Shopkeeper Thief_.—_False +Weights and Measures_.—_Adulteration of Food and Drink_.—_Our Old Law_, +“_I am as honest as I can afford to be_!”—_Rudimentary Exercises in the +Art of Pillage_. + +THERE are unregistered as well “registered” thieves. How many of the +former make London their hunting-ground, it were much more difficult to +enumerate. Nor is it so much out of place as might at first appear, to +class both phases of rascality under one general heading. We have to +consider the sources from which are derived our army of London thieves. +It is not as though the plague of them that afflicts was like other +plagues, and showed itself mild or virulent, according to well-defined +and ascertained provocatives. On the contrary, the crop of our +crime-fields is even more undeviating than our wheat or barley crops. A +grain of corn cast into the ground may fail, but the seeds of vice +implanted in kindly soil is bound to germinate, unless the nature of the +soil itself is altered. As already stated, the number of our London +thieves has somewhat decreased of late years, but it is merely to the +extent of six or seven per cent. If it is twenty thousand at the present +time, this day twelvemonths, allowing for the increased population, it +will be nineteen thousand, say. + +Appalling as are the criminal returns for the city of London, it would be +a vain delusion to imagine that when the “twenty thousand” have passed in +review before us, the whole of the hideous picture has been revealed. +The Government statistics deal only with “professional criminals;” that +class of persons, that is to say, who have abandoned all idea of living +honestly, and who, weighing the probable consequences, resign themselves +to a life of systematic depredation, and study existing facilities, and +likely new inventions, just as the ingenious joiner or engineer does in +an honest way. + +The all-important question being, what are the main sources from which +are derived with such steadiness and certainty, recruits for the great +criminal army, it would be as well to inquire how much of dishonesty is +permitted amongst us unchecked, simply because it does not take precisely +that shape and colour it must assume before it so offends us that we +insist on the law’s interference. It should perhaps tend to make us more +tender in our dealings with thieves denounced as such, and convicted, and +sent to prison, when we consider the thousands of men of all grades who +know honesty by name only, and who would at the merest push of adversity +slip off the straight path on which for years past they have been no +better than barefaced impostors and trespassers, and plunge at once into +the miry ways of the professed thieves. It ceases to be a wonder how +constantly vacancies in the ranks of crime are filled when we reflect on +the flimsy partition that screens so many seemingly honest men, and the +accidental rending of which would disclose a thief long practised, and +cool, and bold through impunity. There are whole communities of men, +constituting complete branches of our social economy, on whom the taint +of dishonesty rests, and their masters are fully aware of it, and yet +year after year they are allowed to continue in the same employment. +Nay, I think that I may go as far as to assert that so complete is the +disbelief in the honesty of their servants by these masters, that to the +best of their ability they provide against loss by theft by paying the +said servants very little wages. A notable instance of this is furnished +by the omnibus conductors in the service of the General Omnibus Company. +It is not because the company in question conducts its business more +loosely than other proprietors of these vehicles that I particularize it, +but because it is a public company in the enjoyment of many privileges +and monopolies, and the public have an undoubted right to expect fair +treatment from it. I don’t know how many omnibuses, each requiring a +conductor, are constantly running through the streets of London, but +their number must be very considerable, judging from the fact that the +takings of the London General Omnibus Company alone range from nine to +ten thousand pounds weekly. Now it is well known to the company that +their conductors rob them. A gentleman of my acquaintance once submitted +to the secretary of the company an ingenious invention for registering +the number of passengers an omnibus carried on each journey, but the +secretary was unable to entertain it. “It is of no use to us, sir,” said +he. “The machine we want is one that will make our men _honest_, and +that I am afraid is one we are not likely to meet with. They _will_ rob +us, and we can’t help ourselves.” And knowing this, the company pay the +conductor four shillings a day, the said day, as a rule, consisting of +_seventeen hours_—from eight one morning till one the next. The driver, +in consideration it may be assumed of his being removed from the +temptation of handling the company’s money, is paid six shillings a day, +but his opinion of the advantage the conductor still has over him may be +gathered from the fact that he expects the latter to pay for any +reasonable quantity of malt or spirituous liquor he may consume in the +course of a long scorching hot or freezing cold day, not to mention a +cigar or two and the invariable parting glass when the cruelly long day’s +work is at an end. + +It would likewise appear that by virtue of this arrangement between the +omnibus conductor and his employers, the interference of the law, even in +cases of detected fraud, is dispensed with. It is understood that the +London General Omnibus Company support quite a large staff of men and +women watchers, who spend their time in riding about in omnibuses, and +noting the number of passengers carried on a particular journey, with the +view of comparing the returns with the conductor’s receipts. It must, +therefore, happen that the detections of fraud are numerous; but does the +reader recollect ever reading in the police reports of a conductor being +prosecuted for robbery? + +To be sure the Company may claim the right of conducting their business +in the way they think best as regards the interests of the shareholders, +but if that “best way” involves the countenancing of theft on the part of +their servants, which can mean nothing else than the encouragement of +thieves, it becomes a grave question whether the interests of its +shareholders should be allowed to stand before the interests of society +at large. It may be that to prosecute a dishonest conductor is only to +add to the pecuniary loss he has already inflicted on the Company, but +the question that much more nearly concerns the public is, what becomes +of him when suddenly and in disgrace they turn him from their doors? No +one will employ him. In a few weeks his ill-gotten savings are +exhausted, and he, the man who for months or years, perhaps, has been +accustomed to treat himself generously, finds himself without a sixpence, +and, what is worse, with a mark against his character so black and broad +that his chances of obtaining employment in the same capacity are +altogether too remote for calculation. The respectable barber who +declined to shave a coal-heaver on the ground that he was too vulgar a +subject to come under the delicate operations of the shaver’s razor, and +who was reminded by the grimy one that he had just before shaved a baker, +justified his conduct on the plea that his professional dignity compelled +him to draw a line _somewhere_, and that he drew it at bakers. Just so +the London General Omnibus Company. They draw the line at thieves rash +and foolish. So long as a servant of theirs is content to prey on their +property with enough of discretion as to render exposure unnecessary, he +may continue their servant; but they make it a rule never again to employ +a man who has been so careless as to be found out. + +As has been shown, it is difficult to imagine a more satisfactory +existence than that of an omnibus conductor to a man lost to all sense of +honesty; on the other hand it is just as difficult to imagine a man so +completely “floored” as the same cad disgraced, and out of employ. It is +easy to see on what small inducements such a man may be won over to the +criminal ranks. He has no moral scruples to overcome. His larcenous +hand has been in the pocket of his master almost every hour of the day +for months, perhaps years past. He is not penitent, and if he were and +made an avowal to that effect, he would be answered by the incredulous +jeers and sneers of all who knew him. The best that he desires is to +meet with as easy a method of obtaining pounds as when he cheerfully +drudged for eighteen hours for a wage of four-shillings. This being the +summit of his ambition, presently he stumbles on what appears even an +easier way of making money than the old way, and he unscrupulously +appears not in a new character, but in that he has had long experience +in, but without the mask. + +I should wish it to be distinctly understood, that I do not include _all_ +omnibus conductors in this sweeping condemnation. That there are honest +ones amongst them I make no doubt; at the same time I have no hesitation +in repeating that in the majority of cases it is expected of them that +they will behave dishonestly, and they have no disinclination to +discredit the expectation. I believe too, that it is much more difficult +for a man to be honest as a servant of the company than if he were in the +employ of a “small master.” It is next to impossible for a man of +integrity to join and work harmoniously in a gang of rogues. The odds +against his doing so may be calculated exactly by the number that +comprise the gang. It is not only on principle that they object to him. +Unless he “does as they do,” he becomes a witness against them every time +he pays his money in. And he does as they do. It is so much easier to +do so than, in the condition of a man labouring hard for comparatively +less pay than a common road-scraper earns, to stand up single handed to +champion the cause of honesty in favour of a company who are +undisguisedly in favour of a snug and comfortable compromise, and has no +wish to be “bothered.” + +It is a great scandal that such a system should be permitted to exist; +and a body of employers mean enough to connive at such bargain-making, +can expect but small sympathy from the public if the dishonesty it +tacitly encourages picks it to the bones. What are the terms of the +contract between employer and employed? In plain language these: “We are +perfectly aware that you apply to us well knowing our system of doing +business, and with the deliberate intention of robbing us all you safely +can; and in self-defence, therefore, we will pay you as what you may, if +you please, regard as wages, _two-pence three farthings an hour_, or four +shillings per day of seventeen hours. We know that the probabilities +are, that you will add to that four shillings daily to the extent of +another five or six. It is according to our calculation that you will do +so. Our directors have arrived at the conclusion, that as omnibus +conductors, of the ordinary type, you cannot be expected to rob us of a +less sum than that, and we are not disposed to grumble so long as you +remain so moderate; but do not, as you value your situation with all its +accompanying privileges, go beyond that. As a man who only robs us of +say, five shillings a day, we regard you as a fit and proper person to +wait on our lady and gentleman passengers; to attend to their convenience +and comfort, in short, as a worthy representative of the L. G. O. C. But +beware how you outstrip the bounds of moderation as we unmistakably +define them for you! Should you do so, we will kick you out at a +moment’s notice, and on no consideration will we ever again employ you.” + +Taking this view of the case, the omnibus conductor, although entitled to +a foremost place in the ranks of thieves non-professional, can scarcely +be said to be the least excusable amongst the fraternity. There are many +who, looking down on the “cad” from their pinnacle of high +respectability, are ten times worse than he is. Take the shopkeeper +thief for instance. He is by far a greater villain than the half-starved +wretch who snatches a leg of mutton from a butcher’s hook, or some +article of drapery temptingly flaunting outside the shop of the clothier, +because in the one case the crime is perpetrated that a soul and a +woefully lean body may be saved from severance, and in the other case the +iniquity is made to pander to the wrong-doer’s covetous desire to grow +fat, to wear magnificent jewellery, and to air his unwieldy carcase +annually at Margate. + +He has enough for his needs. His deservings, such as they are, most +liberally attend him; but this is not enough. The “honest penny” is very +well to talk about; in fact, in his cleverly assumed character of an +upright man, it is as well to talk about it loudly and not unfrequently, +but what fudge it is if you come to a downright blunt and “business” view +of the matter to hope ever to make a fortune by the accumulation of +“honest pennies!” Why, thirty of the shabby things make no more than +half-a-crown if you permit each one to wear its plain stupid face, +whereas if you plate it neatly and tender it—backed by your reputation +for respectability, which your banking account of course proves beyond a +doubt—it will pass as genuine silver, and you make two and five-pence at +a stroke! You don’t call it “making,” you robbers of the counter and +money-till, that is a vulgar expression used by “professional” thieves; +you allude to it as “cutting it fine.” Neither do you actually plate +copper pennies and pass them off on the unwary as silver half-crowns. +Unless you were very hard driven indeed, you would scorn so low and +dangerous a line of business. Yours is a much safer system of robbery. +You simply palm off on the unwary customer burnt beans instead of coffee, +and ground rice instead of arrowroot, and a mixture of lard and turmeric +instead of butter. You poison the poor man’s bread. He is a drunkard, +and you are not even satisfied to delude him of his earnings for so long +a time as he may haply live as a wallower in beer and gin, that is beer +and gin as originally manufactured; you must, in order to screw a few +halfpence extra and daily out of the poor wretch, put grains of paradise +in his gin and coculus indicus in his malt liquor! And, more insatiable +than the leech, you are not content with cheating him to the extent of +twenty-five per cent. by means of abominable mixtures and adulteration, +you must pass him through the mill, and cut him yet a little finer when +he comes to scale! You must file your weights and dab lumps of grease +under the beam, and steal an ounce or so out of his pound of bacon. If +you did this after he left your premises, if you dared follow him +outside, and stealthily inserting your hand into his pocket abstracted a +rasher of the pound he had just bought of you, and he caught you at it, +you would be quaking in the grasp of a policeman in a very short time, +and branded in the newspapers as a paltry thief, you would never again +dare loose the bar of your shop shutters. But by means of your dishonest +scales and weights, you may go on stealing rashers from morning till +night, from Monday morning till Saturday night that is, and live long to +adorn your comfortable church pew on Sundays. + +I must be excused for sticking to you yet a little longer, Mr. Shopkeeper +Thief, because I hate you so. I hate you more than ever, and you will be +rejoiced when I tell you why. A few months since, there seemed a chance +that your long career of cruel robbery was about to be checked. An +excellent lord and gentleman, Lord E. Cecil, made it his business to call +the attention of the House of Commons to the state of the law with +respect to false weights and measures, and the adulterations of food and +drinks. His lordship informed honourable members that the number of +convictions for false weights and measures during the past year amounted +to the large number of _thirteen hundred_, and this was exclusive of six +districts, namely: Southwark, Newington, St. George’s, Hanover Square, +Paddington, and the Strand, which for reasons best known to the local +authorities, made no return whatever. In Westminster alone, and within +six months, a hundred persons were convicted, and it was found that of +these twenty-four or nearly one-fourth of the whole were licensed +victuallers, and forty-seven were dairymen, greengrocers, cheesemongers, +and others, who supplied the poor with food, making in all seventy per +cent. of provision dealers. In the parish of St. Pancras, the +convictions for false weights and measures exceed those of every other +parish. But in future, however much the old iniquity may prevail, the +rogue’s returns will show a handsome diminution. This has been managed +excellently well by the shrewd vestrymen themselves. When the last batch +of shopkeeper-swindlers of St. Pancras were tried and convicted, the ugly +fact transpired that not a few of them were gentlemen holding official +positions in the parish. This was serious. The meddlesome fellows who +had caused the disagreeable exposure were called a “leet jury,” whose +business it was to pounce on evil doers whenever they thought fit, once +in the course of every month. The vestry has power over this precious +leet jury, thank heaven! and after sitting in solemn council, the +vestrymen, some of them doubtless with light weights confiscated and +deficient gin and beer measures rankling in their hearts, passed a +resolution, that in future the leet jury was to stay at home and mind its +own business, until the vestry clerk gave it liberty to go over the +ground carefully prepared for it. + +Alluding to the scandalous adulteration of food, Lord E. Cecil remarked, +“The right hon. gentleman, the President of the Board of Trade, in one of +his addresses by which he had electrified the public and his +constituents, stated that the great panacea for the ills of the working +class was a free breakfast table. Now he, Lord E. Cecil, was the last +person in the world to object to any revision of taxation if it were +based upon really sound grounds. But with all due deference to the right +hon. gentleman, there was one thing of even more importance, namely, a +breakfast table free from all impurities.” And then his lordship +proceeded to quote innumerable instances of the monstrous and dangerous +injustice in question, very much to the edification of members assembled, +if reiterated “cheers,” and “hear, hear,” went for anything. This was +promising, and as it should be. As Lord Cecil remarked, “when I asked +myself why it is that this great nation which boasts to be so practical, +and which is always ready to take up the grievances of other people, has +submitted so tamely to this monstrous and increasing evil, the only +answer I could give was that what was everybody’s business had become +nobody’s business.” Doubtless this was the view of the case that every +member present on the occasion took, and very glad they must have been +when they found that what was everybody’s business had become somebody’s +business at last. + +And what said the President of the Board of Trade when he came to reply +to the motion of Lord Cecil: “That in the opinion of the House it is +expedient that Her Majesty’s Government should give their earliest +attention to the wide-spread and most reprehensible practice of using +false weights and measures, and of adulterating food, drinks, and drugs, +with a view of amending the law as regards the penalties now inflicted +for those offences, and of providing more efficient means for the +discovery and prevention of fraud”? Did the right hon. President +promptly and generously promise his most cordial support for the laudable +object in view? No. Amazing as it may appear to the great host of +working men that furnish the shopkeeping rogue with his chief prey, and +who to a man are ready to swear by the right hon. gentleman, he did +nothing of the kind. He started by unhesitatingly expressing his opinion +that the mover of the question, quite unintentionally of course, had much +exaggerated the whole business. And further, that although there might +be particular cases in which great harm to health and much fraud might +possibly be shown, yet general statements of the kind in question were +dangerous, and almost certain to be unjust. + +“Now, I am prepared to show,” continued the hon. gentleman, “that the +exaggeration of the noble lord—I do not say intentional exaggeration, of +course—is just as great in the matter of weights and measures as in that +of adulteration. Probably he is not aware that in the list of persons +employing weights that are inaccurate—I do not say fraudulent; no +distinction is drawn between those who are intentionally fraudulent and +those who are accidentally inaccurate, and that the penalty is precisely +the same and the offence is just as eagerly detected. Now the noble lord +will probably be surprised to hear that many persons are fined annually, +not because their weights are too small, but because they are too large.” + +Probably, however, his lordship, who has evidently given much attention +to the subject, is master of this as well as all other branches of it, +and is not so much surprised as it may be assumed the less knowing +President of the Board of Trade was when the anomaly was brought under +his notice. Probably Lord Cecil is aware, that in a very large number of +businesses, articles are bought as well as sold by weight by the same +shopkeeper and at the same shop, in such case it is nothing very +wonderful to discover a weight of seventeen ounces to the pound. +Moreover, it may be unknown to Mr. Bright, but it is quite a common trick +with the dishonest shopkeeper to have means at hand for adjusting his +false weights at the very shortest notice. It is not a difficult +process. Weights are, as a rule, “justified” or corrected by means of +adding to, or taking from, a little of the lead that is for this purpose +sunk in the hollow in which the weight-ring is fixed. This leaden plug +being raised by the point of a knife, nothing is easier than to add or +withdraw a wedge of the same material. The knife point raises the leaden +lid, the knife handle forces it down at a blow, and the trick is done. +At the same time, the coolest rogue with a knowledge that the “leet” is +only next door, cannot always manage his conjuring deftly, and this may +in not a few instances account for the weight _more_ than just. Besides, +taking the most liberal view of the matter, it would be manifestly +dangerous to allow a system of “averages” to do duty for strict and rigid +justice. The relations between customer and shopkeeper would speedily +fall into a sad muddle if the latter were permitted to excuse himself for +selling fifteen ounces instead of a full pound of butter to-day, on the +ground that he has a seventeen ounce weight somewhere about, and the +probability that what he is short to-day the customer had over and above +in the pound of lard he bought yesterday. + +Again, let us listen to Mr. Bright as an advocate of self-protection. +“If the corporations and the magistrates have not sufficient interest in +the matter, if the people who elect the corporation care so little about +it, I think that is fair evidence that the grievance is not near so +extensive and injurious and burdensome as it has been described by the +noble lord. My own impression with regard to adulteration is, that it +arises from the very great and, perhaps, inevitable competition in +business; and that to a large extent it is prompted by the ignorance of +customers. As the ignorance of customers generally is diminishing, we +may hope that before long the adulteration of food may also diminish. It +is quite impossible that you should have the oversight of the shops of +the country by inspectors, and it is quite impossible that you should +have persons going into shops to buy sugar, pickles, and cayenne pepper, +to get them analysed, and then to raise complaints against shopkeepers +and bring them before magistrates. If men in their private business were +to be tracked by government officers and inspectors every hour in the +day, life would not be worth having, and I should recommend them to +remove to another country where they would not be subject to such +annoyance.” + +With a knowledge of the source from which this expression of opinion as +to commercial morality emanates, one is apt to mistrust once reading it. +Surely a line has been inadvertently skipped, a line that contains the +key of the puzzle, and reveals the refined sarcasm that lurks beneath the +surface. But no—twice reading, thrice reading, fails to shed any new +lights on the mystery. Here is Mr. John Bright, the President of the +Board of Trade, the working man’s champion, and the staunch upholder of +the right of those who sweat in honest toil, to partake plentifully of +untaxed food and drink, putting forth an extenuation for those who, under +guise of honest trading, filch from the working man, and pick and steal +from his loaf, from his beer jug, from his sugar basin, from his +milk-pot, in short, from all that he buys to eat or drink. “My own +impression is,” says the Right Hon. President, “that adulteration arises +from competition in business.” Very possibly, but does _that_ excuse it? +We are constantly reminded that “competition is the soul of trade,” but +we should be loth to think that such were the fact if the term +“competition” is to be regarded as synonymous with adulteration, or, in +plain language, robbery. “It is quite impossible that you should have +persons going about endeavouring to detect the dishonest tradesman in his +peculations, with a view to his punishment.” Why is it impossible? Must +not the repose of this sacred “soul of business” be disturbed, on so +trivial a pretext as the welfare of the bodies of a clodhopping people, +who are not commercial? So far from its being “impossible” to substitute +vigilant measures for the detection of the petty pilferer who robs the +poor widow of a ha’porth of her three penn’orth of coals, or the +fatherless child of a slice out of its meagre allowance of bread, it +should be regarded by the Government as amongst its chief duties. Other +nations find it not impossible. In France a commissary of police has the +right to enter any shop, and seize any suspected article, bearing of +course all the responsibility of wrongful seizure. In Prussia, as Lord +Cecil informed the House, “whoever knowingly used false weights and +measures was liable to imprisonment for three months, to be fined from +fifty to a thousand thalers, and to suffer the temporary loss of his +rights of citizenship. Secondly, where false weights and measures were +not regularly employed, a fine of thirty thalers may be imposed, or the +delinquent sent to prison for four weeks. Thirdly, the adulteration of +food or drink is punishable with a fine of 150 thalers, or six weeks’ +imprisonment. Fourthly, if poisonous matter or stuff be employed, the +offender is liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding ten years. +Fifthly, where adulteration was proved to have caused severe physical +injury, a sentence of from ten to twenty years’ imprisonment might be +passed. And yet in this country offences of this nature could only be +punished by the imposition of a penalty of a fine of £5, with costs.” +These are not laws of yesterday. They have stood the test of many years, +and French and Prussians find it not “impossible” to continue their +salutary enforcement. But it is curious the extraordinary view men in +authority amongst us at times take of the licence that should be +permitted the “trader.” I remember once being present at a County Court, +and a case tried was that between a wholesale mustard dealer and a +cookshop keeper. The cookshop keeper declined to pay for certain mustard +delivered to him on the ground that his customers would not eat it. +Indeed, it could hardly be called mustard at all, being little else than +flour coloured with turmeric, and, backed by medical testimony, the +defendant mainly relied on this point, _i.e._, that it was not mustard at +all, for a verdict. But the judge would not hear of this; in his summing +up he remarked that it was idle to contend that the stuff was _not_ +mustard; _it was mustard in a commercial sense_, whatever might be its +quality, and thereon gave a verdict for the plaintiff, and for the amount +claimed. + +I must confess that at the time I had my doubts as to this being sound +law, but after the declaration of the President of the Board of Trade, I +am bound to admit the possibility of my being mistaken. “Competition is +the soul of commerce;” competition is the parent of adulteration; +adulteration is theft as a rule,—murder as an exception. The loaf that +is composed of inferior flour, rice, potatoes, and alum, is the “wheaten +bread” of “commerce.” The poisonous liquid composed of a little malt and +hops, eked out with treacle and _coculus indicus_, is the beer of +“commerce.” And, according to the same ruling, a lump of lard stuck +under the butter-shop scale, or the inch snipped off the draper’s yard, +or the false bottom to the publican’s pot, constitute the weights and +measures of “commerce.” All these little harmless tricks of trade are, +it seems, within the scope of a tradesman’s “private business,” and +according to the President of the Board of Trade, if a tradesman in +pursuit of his private business is to be watched and spied over for the +malicious purpose of bringing him within the grasp of the law, why the +sooner he quits the country, and settles amongst a more easy-going +people, with elbow-room proper for his commercial enterprise, the better +for him. + +Undoubtedly, the better for him and the better for us. I would make this +difference, however. When his iniquity was discovered, he should not go +altogether unrewarded for his past services. He should be assisted in +his going abroad. He should not be called on to pay one penny for his +outward passage, and, what is more, he should be supplied with +substantial linsey-wolsey clothing, and his head should be cropped quite +close, so that the scorching sun of Bermuda or Gibraltar might not upset +his brain for future commercial speculation. + +It needs, however, something more persuasive than the “mustard of +commerce” to induce us to swallow with satisfaction the President’s +assertion, that “to a large extent adulteration is promoted by the +ignorance of customers,” nor are we immensely consoled by the suggestion +that “as the ignorance of the customer diminishes, the adulteration of +food will also diminish.” Decidedly this is a bright look out for the +ignorant customer! There is to be no help for him, no relief. He must +endure to be cheated in weight and measure, and slowly poisoned in the +beer he drinks, and the bread he eats, until he finds time and money to +provide himself with a scientific education, and becomes an accomplished +scholar in chemistry, able to detect adulteration at sight or smell. Is +this what the President of the Board of Trade means, or what is it? He +cannot mean that the imposture is endured because the consumer will not +take the trouble to avail himself of the laws made for his protection, +because he is distinctly informed that although there are such laws, they +are rendered inoperative because of the “impossibility” of having +inspectors and detectives going about prying into the “private business” +of the shopkeeper, and annoying him. If the ignorance of the honest man +is to be regarded as the fair opportunity of the rogue, then there +appears no reason why the immunity enjoyed by the fraudulent shopkeeper +should not likewise be the indulgence allowed to the professional thief. +It is the “ignorance of the customer” that enables the cheat to impose on +him bad money for good, or a forged signature for one that is genuine. +It is the ignorance of the green young man from the country as regards +the wicked ways of London, that enables the skittle sharper to fleece him +with ease and completeness. Undoubtedly, if we were all equally “wide +awake,” as the vulgar saying is, if no one had the advantage of his +neighbour as regards cunning, and shrewdness, and suspicion, and all the +other elements that constitute “a man of the world,” then the trade of +cheating would become so wretched a one that even ingrain rogues would +for their life-sake cultivate the sort of honesty that was prevalent as +the best policy, though very much against their natural inclination; but +it might possibly be found that there are thousands and tens of thousands +of simple people who would prefer to remain in “ignorance,” having no +desire to become “men of the world” in the sense above indicated, and +electing for their souls’-sake to be lambs with a fleece to lose, than +ravening wolves, whose existence depends on the fleecing of lambs. + +_Apropos_ of the practice of cheating by means of the adulteration of +foods and drinks, it may not be out of place here to mention that during +the discussion a member in whom Mr. Bright expressed great confidence, +announced that the use of alum in bread, so far from being injurious, was +_positively beneficial_. Doctor Letheby, however, is of a somewhat +different opinion. Recently, at the Society of Arts, he read a paper on +the subject. Here are his opinions on the matter: + + “By the addition of alum, inferior and even damaged flour may be made + into a tolerable looking loaf. It is the property of alum to make + the gluten tough, and to prevent its discoloration by heat, as well + as to check the action of the yeast or ferment upon it. When, + therefore, it is added to good flour, it enables it to hold more + water, and so to yield a larger number of loaves; while the addition + of it to bad flour prevents the softening and disintegrating effect + of the yeast on the poor and inferior gluten, and so enables it to + bear the action of heat in the progress of baking. According to the + quality of flour, will be the proportion of alum, and hence the + amount will range from 2 ozs. to 8 ozs. per sack of flour. These + proportions will yield from 9 to 37 grains of alum in the quartern + loaf, quantities which are easily detected by chemical means. + Indeed, there is a simple test by which much smaller quantities of it + may be readily discovered. You have only to dip a slice of the bread + into a weak solution of logwood in water, and if alum be present, the + bread will speedily acquire a red or purplish tint. Good bread + should not exhibit any black specks upon its upper crust; it should + not become sodden and wet at the lower part by standing; it should + not become mouldy by keeping in a moderately dry place; it should be + sweet and agreeable to the taste and smell; it should not give, when + steeped, a ropy, acid liquor; and a slice of it taken from the centre + of the loaf should not lose more than forty-five per cent. by + drying.” + +Again, speaking of the cruelty and dishonesty of the various +“sophistications” practised by the vendors of food as regards the +inefficacy of the laws made for its suppression, the good doctor says: + + “Parliament has attempted to deal with the matter by legislation, as + in the ‘Act for Preventing the Adulteration of Articles of Food or + Drink’ of 1860; but as the Act is only permissive, little or no + effect has been given to it. Even in those places, as in the City of + London, where it has been put into operation, and public analysts + have been appointed, no good has resulted from it; in fact, it stands + upon the statute-book as a dead letter. Speaking of the City, I may + say that every inducement has been offered for the effective working + of the Act, but nothing has come of it. In olden times, the remedies + for such misdemeanours were quick and effectual. In the _Assisa + panis_, for example, as set forth in _Liber Albus_, there are not + only the strictest regulations concerning the manner in which the + business of the baker is to be conducted, but there are also + penalties for failing in the same. ‘If any default,’ it says, ‘shall + be found in the bread of a baker in the city, the first time, let him + be drawn upon a hurdle from the Guildhall to his own house through + the great streets where there be most people assembled; and through + the great streets which are most dirty, with the faulty loaf hanging + about his neck. If a second time he shall be found committing the + same offence, let him be drawn from the Guildhall, through the great + street of Chepe in manner aforesaid to the pillory, and let him be + put upon the pillory and remain there at least one hour in the day; + and the third time that such default shall be found, he shall be + drawn, and the oven shall be pulled down, and the baker made to + forswear the trade within the city for ever.’ It further tells us, + that William de Stratford suffered this punishment for selling bread + of short weight, and John de Strode ‘for making bread of filth and + cobwebs.’ One hoary-headed offender was excused the hurdle on + account of his age and the severity of the season; and it would seem + that the last time the punishment was inflicted was in the sixteenth + year of the reign of Henry VI., when Simon Frensshe was so drawn. A + like punishment was awarded to butchers and vintners for fraudulent + dealings; for we are told that a butcher was paraded through the + streets with his face to the horse’s tail for selling measly bacon at + market, and that the next day he was set in the pillory with two + great pieces of his measly bacon over his head, and a writing which + set forth his crimes. In the judgments recorded in _Liber Albus_ + there are twenty-three cases in which the pillory was awarded for + selling putrid meat, fish, or poultry; thirteen for unlawful dealings + of bakers, and six for the misdemeanours of vintners and wine + dealers. Verily we have degenerated in these matters.” + +And while we are on the subject of thieves non-professional, and their +easy conversion to the article legally stamped and recognised, it may not +be amiss briefly to remark on the odd ideas of honesty entertained and +practised by thousands of our hard-fisted, and except for the singular +weakness hinted at, quite worthy and decent “journeymen.” It is curious +how much of hallucination prevails amongst us on the subject of “common +honesty.” It is as though there were several qualities of that virtue, +“common,” “middling,” and “superfine,” as there are in household bread; +and that, carrying out the simile, although the “superfine” is +undoubtedly nicer, and what one would always use if he could afford it, +the honesty dubbed “common” is equally wholesome, and on the whole the +only sort on which it is possible for a working man to exist. + +“I am as honest as I can afford to be,” is an observation common in the +mouth of those who really and truly earn their bread and acquire a +creditable reputation by the sweat of their brow. It never seems to +occur to them that such an admission is equal to a confession of +dishonesty, and since it is simply a matter of degree, that the common +thief on the same grounds may claim the privilege of shaking them by the +hand as their equal. The man who fixes the standard of his honesty at no +greater height becomes an easy prey to temptation. “If he is as honest +as he can afford to be,” and no more, it simply means that his means not +being equal to his necessities he has already admitted the thin end of +the wedge of dishonesty to make good the gap, and that should the said +gap unhappily widen, the wedge must enter still further in until a total +splitting up of the system ensues, and the wedge itself becomes the only +steadfast thing to cling to. + +That this melancholy consummation is not more frequently attained is the +great wonder, and would tend to show that many men adopt a sort of +hobbling compromise, walking as it were with one foot on the path of +rectitude, and the other in the miry way of petty theft, until they get +to the end of life’s tether and both feet slip into the grave. + +It is a fact at once humiliating, but there it stands stark and stern, +and will not be denied, that there are daily pursuing their ordinary +business, and passing as honest, hundreds and thousands of labouring +folk, who, if their various malversations were brought to light, and they +were prosecuted, would find themselves in prison ere they were a day +older. Nor should this startle us very much, as we are well aware of it, +and mayhap are in no small degree responsible for it, since it is mainly +owing to our indolent disregard that the evil has become so firmly +established; at the same time it should be borne in mind, that this no +more excuses those who practise and profit on our indifference to small +pilferings than a disinclination to prosecute a professional pickpocket +mitigates the offence of the delinquent. + +The species of dishonesty alluded to, as not coming within the official +term “professional,” has many aliases. Ordinarily it is called by the +cant name of “perks,” which is a convenient abbreviation of the word +“perquisites,” and in the hands of the users of it, it shows itself a +word of amazing flexibility. It applies to such unconsidered trifles as +wax candle ends, and may be stretched so as to cover the larcenous +abstraction by our man-servant of forgotten coats and vests. As has been +lately exposed in the newspapers, it is not a rare occurrence for your +butler or your cook to conspire with the roguish tradesman, the latter +being permitted to charge “his own prices,” on condition that when the +monthly bill is paid, the first robber hands over to the second +two-shillings or half-a-crown in the pound. It is not, however, these +sleek, and well-fed non-professional thieves that I would just now speak +of, but rather of the working man—the journeyman tailor for example. + +Did anyone ever yet hear of a working tailor who was proof against +misappropriation of his neighbour’s goods, or as he playfully designates +it, “cabbage?” Is it not a standard joke in the trade this “cabbage?” +Did one ever hear of a tailor being shunned by his fellow-workmen, or +avoided by his neighbours, on account of his predilection for “cabbage?” +Yet what is it but another word for “theft?” If I entrust a builder with +so much timber, and so much stone, and so many bricks, to build me a +house, and I afterwards discover that by clever dodging and scheming he +has contrived to make me believe that all the material I gave him has +been employed in my house, whereas he has managed to filch enough to +build himself a small cottage, do I accept his humorous explanation that +it is only “cabbage,” and forgive him? No. I regard it as my duty to +afford him an opportunity of explaining the matter to a magistrate. But +if I entrust my tailor with stuff for a suit, and it afterwards comes to +my knowledge that he has “screwed” an extra waistcoat out of it, which he +keeps or sells for his own benefit, do I regard it as a serious act of +robbery? I am ashamed to say that I do not; I may feel angry, and +conceive a contempt for tailors, but I take no steps to bring the rogue +to justice. I say to myself, “It is a mean trick, but they all do it,” +which is most unjust to the community of tailors, because though I may +suspect that they all do it, I have no proof of the fact, whereas I have +proof that there is a dishonest tailor in their guild, and I have no +right to assume but that they would regard it as a favour if I would +assist them in weeding him out. + +And it is almost as good a joke as the calling downright theft by the +comical name of “cabbage,” that the tailor will do this and all the time +insist on his right to be classed with honest men. He insists on this +because he was never known to steal anything besides such goods as +garments are made out of. As he comes along bringing your new suit home +he would think it no sin to call at that repository for stolen goods the +“piece broker’s,” and sell there a strip of your unused cloth for a +shilling, but you may safely trust him in the hall where the hats and +umbrellas and overcoats are. He would as soon think of breaking into +your house with crowbars and skeleton keys, as of abstracting a +handkerchief he saw peeping out of a pocket of one of the said coats. + +As with the tailor, so it is with the upholsterer, and the dressmaker, +and the paperhanger, and the plumber, and all the rest of them. I don’t +say that every time they take a shred of this, or a pound weight of that, +that they have before their eyes the enormity of the offence they are +about to commit. What they do they see no great harm in. Indeed, point +out to them and make it clear that their offence has but to be brought +fairly before the criminal authorities to ensure them a month on the +treadmill, and they would as a rule be shocked past repeating the +delinquency. And well would it be if they were shocked past it, ere +misfortune overtake them. It is when “hard up” times set in, and it is +difficult indeed to earn an honest penny, that these rudimentary +exercises in the art of pillage tell against a man. It is then that he +requires his armour of proof against temptation, and lo! it is full of +holes and rust-eaten places, and he falls at the first assault of the +enemy. + + + +CHAPTER X. +CRIMINAL SUPPRESSION AND PUNISHMENT. + + +_Lord Romilly’s Suggestion concerning the Education of the Children of +Criminals_.—_Desperate Criminals_.—_The Alleys of the Borough_.—_The +worst Quarters not_, _as a rule_, _the most Noisy_.—_The Evil Example of_ +“_Gallows Heroes_,” “_Dick Turpin_,” “_Blueskin_,” _&c._—_The Talent for_ +“_Gammoning Lady Green_.”—_A worthy Governor’s Opinion as to the best way +of_ “_Breaking_” _a Bad Boy_.—_Affection for_ “_Mother_.”—_The Dark Cell +and its Inmate_.—_An Affecting Interview_. + +NO less an authority than Lord Romilly, discoursing on the alarming +prevalence and increase of crime, especially amongst the juveniles of the +criminal class, remarks: “It is a recognised fact, that there is a great +disposition on the part of children to follow the vocation of their +father, and in the case of the children of thieves there is no +alternative. They become thieves, because they are educated in the way, +and have no other trade to apply themselves to. To strike at the root of +the evil, I would suggest, that if a man committed felony, all his +children under the age, say of ten, should be taken from him, and +educated at the expense of the State. It might perhaps be said, that a +man who wanted to provide for his children, need in that case only to +commit felony to accomplish his object, but I believe that the effect +would be just the contrary. I believe that no respectable person would +commit felony for such a purpose, and that if we knew more about the +feelings of thieves, we should find that they had amongst them a species +of morality, and displayed affection for their children. My opinion is, +that to take their children away from them would be an effectual mode of +punishment; and though the expense might be great, it would be repaid in +a few years by the diminution in crime.” + +Although Lord Romilly’s opinions on this subject may be somewhat in +advance of those commonly prevalent, there can be no question that they +tend in the right direction. Crime may be suppressed, but it can never +be exterminated by simply lopping the flourishing boughs and branches it +puts forth; it should be attacked at the root, and the thief child is the +root of the adult growth, tough, strong-limbed, and six feet high. +Precisely the same argument as that used as regards the abolition of +neglected children applies in the case of the infant born in crime. The +nest in which for generations crime has bred should be destroyed. It is +only, however, to the initiated that the secluded spots where these nests +may be found is known. A correspondent of the _Times_ lately made an +exploration, from the report of which the following is an extract. + + “I was shown in the east and south sides of London what I may almost + say were scores of men, about whom the detectives, who accompanied + me, expressed grave doubts as to my life being safe among them for a + single hour, if it were known I had £20 or £30 about me; and above + all, if the crime of knocking me on the head could be committed under + such circumstances as would afford fair probabilities of eluding + detection. I don’t mean to say that these desperate criminals are + confined to any particular quarter of London; unfortunately they are + not, or if they were, there is only one particular quarter in which + we should wish to see them all confined, and that is Newgate. But no + matter how numerous they may be elsewhere, there is certainly one + quarter in which they are pre-eminently abundant, and that is around + the alleys of the Borough. Here are to be found, not only the lowest + description of infamous houses, but the very nests and nurseries of + crime. The great mass of the class here is simply incorrigible. + Their hand is against every man; their life is one continuous + conspiracy against the usages of property and safety of society. + They have been suckled, cradled and hardened in scenes of guilt, + intemperance, and profligacy. Here are to be found the lowest of the + low class of beershops in London, and probably in the world, the + acknowledged haunts of “smashers,” burglars, thieves and forgers. + There is hardly a grade in crime, the chief representatives of which + may not be met among the purlieus of the Borough. There are people + who have been convicted over and over again, but there are also + hundreds of known ruffians who are as yet unconvicted, and who, by + marvellous good luck, as well as by subtle cunning, have managed up + to the present time to elude detection. It is the greatest error to + suppose that all, or even a majority of the criminal classes are + continually passing through the hands of justice. Griffith, the + hank-note forger, who was tried, I think, in 1862, stated in prison + that he had carried on the printing of counterfeit notes for more + than 15 years. Of course this man was sedulous in concealing his + occupation from the police, but there are hundreds of others who + almost openly follow equally criminal and far more dangerous pursuits + with whom the police cannot interfere. Our present business should + be to look up these vagabonds, and our future vocation to destroy + their recognised haunts. It is no good killing one wasp when we + leave the nest untouched. Thieves, it must be remembered, are a + complete fraternity, and have a perfect organization among + themselves. The quarter round Kent Street, in the Borough, for + instance, is almost wholly tenanted by them, and the houses they + occupy are very good property, for thieves will pay almost any amount + of rent, and pay it regularly, for the sake of keeping together. The + aspect of this quarter is low, foul and dingy. Obscurity of language + and conduct is of course common to all parts of it, but it is not as + a rule a riotous neighbourhood. Thieves do not rob each other, and + they have a wholesome fear of making rows, lest it should bring the + police into their notorious territory. These haunts are not only the + refuges and abiding places of criminals, but they are the training + colleges for young thieves. Apart from the crimes which arise, I + might say almost naturally from passion or poverty—apart also from + the mere relaxation of moral culture, caused by the daily exhibition + of apparent success in crime, it is known that an organized + corruption is carried on by the adult thieves among the lads of + London.” + +It is by laying hands on these children, and providing them with +employment, the pleasurable exercise of which shall of itself convince +them how infinitely superior as a “policy” honesty is to be preferred to +that which consigned their father to Portland, that we may do more good +than by the concoction of as many legislative enactments as have had +birth since Magna Charta. Of the children who are not the progeny of +thieves, but who somehow find their way into the criminal ranks, it is +undoubtedly true that pernicious literature, more than once alluded to in +these pages, does much to influence them towards evil courses. This is a +belief that is justified, not alone by observation and inference, but by +the confession of juvenile prisoners themselves. It is a fact that at +least fifty per cent. of the young thieves lodged in gaol, when +questioned on the subject, affect that it was the shining example +furnished by such gallows heroes as “Dick Turpin” and “Blueskin,” that +first beguiled them from the path of rectitude, and that a large +proportion of their ill-gotten gains was expended in the purchase of such +delectable biographies. + +This, however, is ground that should be trod with caution. Useful as +such revelations may be in guiding us towards conclusions on which +vigorous action may be based, it should be constantly borne in mind that +it is not all pure and untainted truth that proceeds from the mouths of +the juvenile habitual criminal in gaol any more than from his elders +under the same conditions. A talent for gammoning “Lady Green,” as the +prison chaplain is irreverently styled, is highly appreciated amongst the +thieving fraternity. Boys are as quick-witted as men in their way, and +on certain matters much quicker. They are less doggedly obstinate than +most adults of the same class, and more keenly alive to mischief, +especially when its practice may bring them some benefit. I have +witnessed several instances of this, and many others have been brought +under my notice by prison officials. As, for instance, in a certain gaol +that shall be nameless, the governor has a fixed conviction that the one +huge fountain head of juvenile depravity is the tobacco pipe. And ample +indeed are his grounds for such conclusion, since almost every boy that +comes into his custody testifies to his sagacity. His old customers +never fail. He invariably questions the male delinquent on the subject, +and as invariably he gets the answer he expects, and which favours his +pet theory: “It is all through smoking, sir; I never knowed what bad +’abits was afore I took to ‘bacca.’” The probabilities, however, are +that the little villains are aware of the governor’s weakness, and humour +it. + +It would seem so the more, because these same boys when quartered in +another gaol, the master of which rode a hobby of another pattern, alter +their tune so as to meet the emergency. There is a prison in the suburbs +of London, one of the largest, and as far as I have had opportunity of +judging, one of the best managed and conducted; but the governor of it +has his boy-weakness. He is quite convinced in his own mind that the +main spring of crime is the perusal of the sort of literature herein +alluded to. This is a fact generally known among the juvenile criminal +population, and they never fail to make the most of it when the time +comes. I went the rounds of his gaol with this governor on one occasion, +when the “boy wing” was occupied by about forty tenants, and in each case +was the important question put, and in the majority of cases it was +answered, “It was them there penny numbers what I used to take in, sir,” +or words to that effect, and the little humbug was rewarded by a pat on +the head, and an admonition “always to speak the truth.” + +The same gentleman has another peculiarity; it does not deserve to be +stigmatised a weakness, its nature is so amiable. He has a firm belief +that the best way of “breaking” a bad boy, is to appeal to his bygone +affection for his mother. “The boy who is callous to an appeal of that +sort is past hope in my opinion,” said the worthy governor, and in +justice to the lads at the time in his keeping, I must confess that there +was not a callous one amongst them, for they all most dutifully wept, in +some cases bellowed as loudly as the stern restriction of the silent +system would permit, as soon as the delicate subject was broached. + +The effect of this talisman was curiously exhibited in the case of a boy, +about as depraved and hardened a little wretch as it is possible to +imagine. He had only been admitted the previous day, and already he was +incarcerated in a dark cell for outrageous conduct. + +I had never before seen a dark cell, and therefore had no idea of the +horrible place it was. A cell within a cell. The interior of the first +is so black that when the governor entered it I speedily lost sight of +him, and I was only made aware of his opening an inner door by hearing +the key clicking in the lock. + +“Come out here, lad,” he exclaimed firmly, but kindly. + +The lad came out, looming like a small and ragged patch of twilight in +utter blackness until he gradually appeared before us. He was not a big +lad, not more than thirteen years old, I should say, with a short-cropped +bullet-head, and with an old hard face with twice thirteen years of vice +in it. + +The prison dress consisted of a sort of blouse and trousers, both of a +stout woollen material of slate colour. It was evening, and evidently, +the captive, hopeless of release that night, had, previously to our +disturbing him, composed himself for slumber. His method, doubtless +derived from frequent experience of so disposing his attire as to get as +much warmth out of it as possible, was somewhat curious: he had released +his trousers of their braces, so that they descended below his feet, and +the collar of his blouse was pulled up high over his ears. Owing to his +embarrassed habiliments, he shambled out of the pitchy blackness at a +snail’s pace, his white cotton braces trailing behind like a tail, and +completing his goblin-like appearance. + +“This is a very bad lad, sir,” remarked the governor sternly; “he only +came in yesterday, and to-day while out for exercise with the others, he +must misconduct himself, and when the warder reproved him, he must swear +some horrible oath against him. It is for that he is here. How many +times have you been here, lad?” + +_Lad_ (gulping desperately). “Three times, sir!” + +_Governor_ (sternly). “What! speak the truth, lad.” + +_Lad_ (with a determined effort to gouge tears out of his eyes with his +knuckles). “Four times, sir.” + +_Governor_. “Four times! and so you’ll go on till you are sent away, I’m +afraid. Can you read, lad?” + +_Lad_ (with a penitential wriggle). “Yes, sir; I wish as I couldn’t, +sir.” + +_Governor_. “Ah! why so?” + +_Lad_ (with a doleful wag of his bullet-head). “Cos then I shouldn’t +have read none of them highwaymen’s books, sir; it was them as was the +beginning of it.” + +_Governor_. “Ah!” (a pause) “Have you a mother, my lad?” + +_Lad_. “Boo-oh!” + +_Governor_. “Answer me, my lad, have you a mother?” + +_Lad_ (convulsively clasping the corners of his collars, and hiding his +eyes in them). “Ye-ye-ess, sir!” + +_Governor_. “Ah, I thought so! where does she live?” + +_Lad_. “Man-manchester, please, sir!” (a tremulous sniff, indicative of +the impending explosion). + +_Governor_. “And what do you think would be her feelings could she see +you as you now are?” + +_Lad_. “Boo-ooh” (here a writhe so agonized that a hand had to be spared +from his eyes to save his trousers from slipping down). “Boo-ooh! I was +just a thinkin’ on her when you opened the cell, sir! Boo-oo-ooh!” + +_Governor_. “You were thinking of your mother, eh? Well, well, I’m glad +to hear that. If I let you go back to your own cell, will you promise +never to swear again?” + +_Lad_. “Booh! yes, sir.” + +_Governor_. “You may go, then.” + +And with a countenance almost radiant with his unexpected stroke of good +luck, the incorrigible young thief grasped his trouser legs, and scuttled +up the long dim corridor till, except for his white tail, he was lost in +the darkness. + +“They don’t like the dark cell,” remarked the humane governor, as he +gazed after the retreating figure; “anything rather than that.” + +“The younger prisoners especially, I should say,” I returned. + +“Oh, I don’t know that,” said the governor, at the same time, however, +shaking his head rather as a man who _did_ know, but did not care to say. + + + +CHAPTER XI. +ADULT CRIMINALS AND THE NEW LAW FOR THEIR BETTER GOVERNMENT. + + +_Recent Legislation_.—_Statistics_.—_Lord Kimberley’s_ “_Habitual +Criminals_” _Bill_.—_The Present System of Licence-Holders_.—_Colonel +Henderson’s Report_.—_Social Enemies of Suspected Men_.—_The Wrong-Headed +Policeman and the Mischief he may Cause_.—_Looking Out for a +Chance_.—_The Last Resource of Desperate Honesty_.—_A Brotherly +Appeal_.—“_Ginger will Settle Her_.”—_Ruffians who should be Imprisoned +for Life_. + +REGARDING the terms professional thief and habitual criminal as +synonymous, now that we come to consider briefly what are at present the +means adopted for the reformation of criminals and the suppression and +punishment of crime, and what the most recent and plausible suggestions +for amendment and improvement, we find the work already done to our hand, +and naught remains but to cull from the shoals of evidence _pro_ and +_con_ that have been lately set before the public. + +The total cost of our prisons and prisoners for the year 1867, was +£657,129, distributed as follows: (1) Extraordinary charges for new +buildings, &c., £177,553 19s. 9d. (2) Ordinary charges £108,218 15s. +11d. (3) Officers’ salaries, &c., £213,285 15s. 5d., and (4) Prisoners’ +diet, sick allowances, clothing, &c., £158,071 5s. 3d. The average +yearly charge per prisoner under each head of costs, was as follows:—(1) +Extraordinary charges £9 17s. 4d. (2.) Ordinary annual charges £6 0s. +3d. (making together £15 17s. 7d.). (3) Officers and attendants £11 17s. +1d. (4) Prisoners’ diet £6 11s. 1d., and clothing £2 4s. 7d. (together +£8 15s. 8d.), making a total per prisoner of £36 10s. 4d., or omitting +the extraordinary charge for buildings, &c., £26 13s. The average of £36 +10s. 4d. is higher than the corresponding average for 1865–6 by £2 1s. +8d. The average of £26 13s. is higher than the corresponding average by +15s. 1d. These averages are calculated upon the total amounts under each +head of expenditure, and the total daily average number in all the +prisons. The average cost per prisoner naturally shows great variation +in different prisons. The highest is at Alnwick, viz.: £114 3s. 2d. +against £110 1s. 2d. in 1865–6, £108 2s. 5d. in 1864–5, and £88 15s. 11d. +in 1863–4, _with a daily average of one prisoner in each year_! At +Oakham, the average cost for 1866–7 is £80 13s. 3d., with a daily average +of 10 prisoners against £93 16s. 2d. in 1865–6, and £87 1s. 9d. in +1864–5, with the daily average of 8 prisoners in each of those years; at +Appleby £70 2s. with a daily average of 6 prisoners; at Ilford £51 6s. +with a daily average of 20 prisoners. The lowest averages are as +follows: At Hull £16 17s., with a daily average of 173 prisoners; at +Salford £16 17s. 8d., with a daily average of 568 prisoners; at Liverpool +£18 8s. 9d. with a daily average of 952 prisoners; at Devonport £18 12s. +4d., with a daily average of 58 prisoners; at Durham £18 16s. 9d., with a +daily average of 433 prisoners; and at Manchester £19 1s. 3d., with a +daily average of 631 prisoners. The following are the comparative costs +per prisoner for the whole of the prisons for each of the last six +years:—£24 3s. 4d., £23 7s. 5d., £23 7s. 10d., £24 3s. 3d., £25 17s. +11d., and £26 13s. + +The total number of police and constabulary for the same year, is set +down at 24,073 as against 23,728 in the year preceding. The total cost +for the year is £1,920,505 12s. 2d. as against £1,827,105 16s. 7d. in +1866, an increase of upwards of 5 per cent. following an increase of +£78,647 17s. 1d., or 4.5 per cent. upon the amount for 1864–5. As +compared with the total costs for 1856–7, the first year for which +returns were made under the Act; the increase in 1866–7 amounts to +£654,926, or upwards of 51 per cent. The increase in the number of the +police and constabulary during the same period is 4,886, or upwards of 25 +per cent. + +The number of persons committed for trial in 1867 was less than the +number for any of the four years immediately preceding 1866. The +increase in 1867, as compared with 1866, is in the number of males, viz., +328. In the number of females there is a _decrease_ of 206. The +following are the numbers committed for trial in each of the last 20 +years:— + + 1848 30,349 1855 25,972 1862 20,001 + 1849 27,816 1856 19,437 1863 20,818 + 1850 26,813 1857 20,269 1864 19,506 + 1851 27,960 1858 17,855 1865 19,614 + 1852 27,510 1859 16,674 1866 18,849 + 1853 27,057 1860 15,999 1867 18,971 + 1854 29,359 1861 18,326 + +As already intimated in these pages, Lord Kimberley is responsible for +introducing the broad and important subject of Criminal Law Reform to the +legislature for its reconsideration and reformation. In introducing this +bill for the suppression of crime, his lordship reminded the peers +assembled that in the year 1853, after a very full discussion with +respect to transportation it was resolved, partly on account of the evils +of the system, and partly on account of the strong remonstrances of our +Australian colonists to whom our convicts had been sent, that it should, +to a considerable extent cease, and that accordingly an Act was passed +imposing for the first time the sentence of penal servitude as a +substitute for transportation in the greater number of cases. From that +time transportation was limited to Western Australia and the Bermudas. +The numbers sent to Western Australia did not average more than 460 per +annum. The colonists, however, despite this moderate consignment, felt +by no means flattered by the distinction conferred on them, and in +consideration of their strong remonstrances, in the course of a few years +transportation to Australia entirely ceased. + +Penal servitude was the arrangement substituted, and the chief feature of +it was the ticket-of-leave. The system promised well, but no sooner was +it fairly at work than the public took alarm at the number of convicts +scattered over the country holding these tickets, and then another change +was resolved on. A commission, presided over by Lord Carnarvon, was +appointed to examine the whole question of penal servitude, and the +result was a report containing several important recommendations. +Foremost of these was that sentences of penal servitude which had been as +short as three years, should not, in future, be passed for shorter terms +than seven years. Another, almost equally important, was to the effect +that convicts sentenced to penal servitude should be subjected in the +first place to nine months separate imprisonment, and then to labour on +public works for the remainder of the term for which they were sentenced, +but with a power of earning by industry and good conduct an abridgment of +this part of punishment. The provision under which police supervision +has since been carried out, and the conditions under which licences +should be earned by good conduct, were also laid down. As further stated +by his lordship, when the Act of 1864 was under consideration, great +doubts were expressed whether it was possible to carry out a satisfactory +system by which the good conduct of convicts and their industry when +employed on public works could be so measured that they should earn an +abridgment of their sentences. Experience, however, showed that the +system in its working was to a great extent successful, especially when +the management of the business in question fell into the hands of Colonel +Henderson, who succeeded the late Sir Joshua Jebb. Under Colonel +Henderson’s supervision it has been found possible to exact from convicts +the really hard and patient industry which is necessary before they can +obtain a remission of their sentences. The value of the work performed +by convicts at the three convict prisons—Portsmouth, Portland, and +Chatham—was during the year 1868, £106,421; while the cost of maintaining +those establishments was £110,532, so that the earnings nearly equalled +the whole expense to which the country was put; indeed, as regards +Chatham, where there are great facilities for remunerative work in making +bricks for public works, there was an actual profit. In 1867 the average +daily number of convicts at Chatham was 990, and the value of their +labour was £40,898 7s., while the cost of their maintenance and +supervision was £35,315 18s., there being thus a surplus of £5,582 9s. +Under this new and improved system, in which the feature last quoted +shows so satisfactorily, crime decreased. In 1865–6 the indictable +offences committed numbered 50,549, and in 1866–7 they were 55,538, +showing an increase of 4,989, or something under 10 per cent. From 1856 +to 1862, the convictions excluding summary ones, the annual average was +13,859, while in 1867 the number was 14,207. His Lordship explained that +he began with 1856, because in the previous year the Criminal +Jurisdiction Act was passed, enabling a considerable number of crimes to +be dealt with summarily. Although this shows an apparent increase from +13,859 to 14,207, it must be remembered that in the interval the +population increased by nearly two and a-half millions, so that there is +a decrease rather than an increase in proportion to the population. +Satisfactory, however, as was this result, it appeared to Lord Kimberley +that, as we naturally obtain fresh experience from year to year, fresh +opportunities of committing crime being discovered, and fresh means of +meeting these offences, it is necessary from time to time to re-adjust +our system, and make it more complete. Another reason for carefully +scrutinising, and seeing whether we cannot improve our system, is the +complete cessation of transportation; for though during the last few +years we have not sent out to our colonics any very large number of +convicts, it is obvious that for 500 convicts a year to remain in this +country involves a considerable increase of the convict population. The +number of males now on licence is 1,566, and of females 441, in 1870 it +will probably be 1,705, and about ten years hence it will probably be +something under 3,000. + +These, however, form but a small portion of the great criminal class. Of +this latter the average of 1865–6, 1864–5 and 1863–4, shows the following +results: + +Known thieves and depredators 22,959, receivers of stolen goods 3,095, +prostitutes 27,186, suspected persons 29,468, vagrants and tramps 32,938, +making a total of 122,646. In the metropolis alone there were in 1866–7, +14,648 persons living by dishonest means, and 5,628 prostitutes. The +number in 1865–6 being 14,491 and 5,554. + +The above being in the main Lord Kimberley’s grounds of justification for +bringing forward his “Habitual Criminals’ Bill,” let us take its first +provision, that applying to convicts, who on the strength of a +ticket-of-leave are in the enjoyment of conditional liberty, and inquire +what is precisely the system it is intended to supersede, and what are +the practical results of the workings of this last mentioned system, +viz.: that which on the recommendation of the committee, under the +presidency of Lord Carnavon, became law in 1864. The following +memorandum as to the present system of licence holders reporting +themselves to the police, under the Penal Servitude Amendment Act, 1864, +was issued recently by Colonel Henderson, Commissioner of Police of the +Metropolis:— + + “A male licence holder is required personally to report himself at + the principal police-station of the district in which he resides + within three days of his liberation. A printed descriptive form of + the licence holder is sent from the prison to the police with the + address where the man, previous to his liberation, stated he intended + to reside. The officer on duty, when the licence holder reports + himself, instructs him in what he is required to do, and also + delivers to him a printed notice. No further steps are then taken by + the police for a month from that date, when, if the licence holder + again reports himself, he is considered as complying with the law. + + “After inquiry to ascertain if the address given is a correct one, no + further supervision is kept over him by the police, and his lodgings + are not again visited. + + “If a licence holder neglects to report himself as above, or is seen, + or suspected of leading an irregular life, then the police make quiet + inquiry, and, as is frequently the case, if it is found that he has + left the address he was living at, his description is inserted in the + _Police Gazette_ with directions for apprehension. + + “The employers are never informed by the police that they are + employing a licence holder. + + “Licence holders apprehended for offences have complained to the + magistrates that the police harass them, but on investigation such + statements have always proved to be without foundation. + + “No case has ever been known of police levying black mail on licence + holders. + + “The Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society, 39, Charing Cross, with the + sanction of the Secretary of State, undertakes the care of licence + holders. + + “The licence holders who wish to place themselves under the care of + this Society are required to report themselves, on liberation, at the + King Street Police Station, Westminster, where they are served with a + notice. + + “A messenger from Millbank Prison accompanies the licence holders to + the police-station, and after this form is gone through, all local + police supervision ceases until a report is made from the Society to + the Commissioner. + + “Of 368 male licence holders discharged into the Metropolitan Police + district in 1868, 290 placed themselves under the care of the + Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society, either on discharge or + subsequently. + + “There have been difficulties in consequence of this divided + jurisdiction, but in the event of this bill passing, the supervision + of convicts who place themselves in charge of the Prisoners’ Aid + Society, will be carried on by the police, in conjunction with the + officers of the Society, and can be so arranged as to avoid any undue + interference with the men; in fact, it is quite as much the interest + of the police to endeavour to assist licence holders to get honest + work, as to arrest them if they misconduct themselves, and for this + purpose it would be quite sufficient if the licence holder were bound + by the conditions of his licence to report change of residence and + employment, the monthly report being of no particular value, so long + as proper supervision is exercised by the police. + + “As regards the arrest of licence holders, or of persons who have + been twice convicted of felony, it is clear all must depend on the + personal knowledge of the police constable of the person and + antecedents of the suspected person. + + “Under ordinary circumstances, no constable interferes with any + licence holder, nor would he arrest any man on suspicion, without + previously reporting the circumstances to the Commissioner, who would + order quiet inquiry to be made, and give instructions, if necessary, + for the man’s arrest. + + “Identification would be rendered more easy than at present, by the + proposed central registration.” + +As the law at present stands, then, in the event of a ticket of leave man +failing to comply with the police regulations, and on his being conveyed +before a magistrate, it is provided that if the magistrate is satisfied +that he is not earning an honest living, he may be committed to undergo +his original term of imprisonment. Under the restrictions of the +proposed new Bill, however, much more stringent arrangements are +suggested. The onus of proving his honesty will rest with the man who +holds the ticket. “A licence holder may at any time be summoned by a +police constable before a magistrate, and called upon to show that he is +earning an honest livelihood, the burden of proof resting on him; if he +cannot prove his honesty, he may be committed to undergo his original +sentence of Penal Servitude.” + +Now it is evident on the face of it that the above quoted clause of the +proposed “Habitual Criminals Bill” is beset by many grave objections. In +the first place, to vest such an amount of irresponsible power in the +police is a step hardly warranted by one’s experience of the intelligence +and integrity of the “force,” satisfactory on the whole as it may be. +There can be no question that as a rule the superintendents and +inspectors and sergeants are in every respect equal to the duties imposed +on them; only for the unenviable notoriety lately achieved by a +functionary still higher in command, commissioners also might have been +included in the favourable list. + +It is equally true, too, that the great majority of the men of the +“force” discharge their duty with efficiency; at the same time it is +undeniable that there are exceptions to the good rule. But too +frequently do our criminal records remind us that virtue’s perfect armour +is not invariably represented by the helmet and the coat of blue. Only +lately there occurred an alarming instance of this. A gang of plunderers +and receivers of stolen goods was apprehended, and presently there +appeared on the scene an individual, then an inspector of railway +detective police, and formerly holding a responsible position in the +Metropolitan force, taking on himself, with a coolness that bespoke his +long experience, the office of screening the thief and arranging his +escape from the law’s righteous grasp. Richards is this fellow’s name, +and he was evidently well known to a large circle of acquaintance, whose +fame is recorded in the records of the Old Bailey. With amazing audacity +Mr. Richards addressed himself to the two detective policemen who had the +case in hand, and offered them ten pounds each if they would accommodate +his clients by committing perjury when the day of trial came. Happily +the integrity of the two officers was proof against the tempting bribe, +and the unfortunate negotiator found himself even deeper in the mire than +those his disinterested good nature would have aided. At the same time +one cannot refrain from asking, is this the first time that Mr. Richards +has evinced his obliging disposition, and the still more important +question, does he stand alone, or are there others of his school? As is +the case with all large communities, the police force must include in its +number men malicious, prejudiced, wrong-headed and foolish. Probably +there are no serious grounds for the alarm that under the convenient +cloak the clause in question provides, the policeman, unscrupulous and +dishonest, might by levying black mail on the poor wretches so completely +in his power, reap a rich and iniquitous harvest, and render nugatory one +of the Bill’s prime provisions. This is an objection that carries no +great weight. No law that could be passed could put the criminal, the +burglar, and the house-breaker more at the mercy of the dishonest +policeman than he now is. As repeatedly appears in our criminal reports, +the sort of odd intimacy that commonly exists between the thief and his +natural enemy, the policeman, is very remarkable; the latter is as well +acquainted with the haunts of the former as he is with the abodes of his +own friends and relatives. Should the enemies meet in the street, the +acquaintance is acknowledged by a sort of confident +“I-can-have-you-whenever-I-want-you” look on the one part, and a half +devil-may-care, half deprecatory glance on the other. When the crisis +arrives, and the thief is “wanted,” he is hailed as Jack, Tom, or Bill, +and the capture is effected in the most comfortable and business-like +manner imaginable. + +Under such an harmonious condition of affairs, nothing could be easier, +were they both agreed, than bribery and corruption of the most villanous +sort, and, taking Colonel Henderson’s word, “that no case has ever been +known of police levying black mail on licence holders,” and further, +considering the inadequate pay the policeman receives for the amount of +intelligent and vigilant service required of him, the country may be +congratulated on possessing, on the whole, such an almost unexceptionally +good servant. + +It is the wrong-headed policeman, probably, who would work the greatest +amount of mischief in this direction. The busy, over-zealous man, +neither malicious, dishonest, nor vindictive, but simply a little too +anxious to win for himself a character for “shrewdness and intelligence.” +This would probably be the young policeman, desirous of making up for his +lack of experience by a display of extraordinary sagacity. To such a +man’s home-bred, unofficially cultivated ideas of right and wrong, it +would appear of small use “suspecting” an individual, unless he +immediately set about testing him with the utmost severity to know the +extent to which the suspicion was justified. + +To be sure, an attempt is made in the Bill, as it passed the Lords, to +guard against the weaknesses and shortcomings of constables by making it +incumbent on them to obtain the written authority of a superior before +they arrest and take a man before a magistrate; but really this may mean +just nothing at all. It may be assumed that all the evidence a director +of police would require before he granted a written authority, would be +the declaration of the policeman applying for it that he had fair grounds +for making the application. Undoubtedly he would be expected to make out +a good case; but that, as an over-zealous and prejudiced man, he would be +sure to do. The superintendent, or whoever it was that had power to +issue a written warrant for a “suspect’s” apprehension, could not, by +examination of the prisoner, convince himself of the justice of the act +of his subordinate, to do which would be to usurp the magisterial office. +And the process would probably be attended with this disadvantage,—that +the said written order for arrest would wear an importance that really +did not belong to it. If a man were arrested simply on the authority of +a common policeman, the chances are that the magistrate would scrutinise +the case narrowly, and be guided to a conviction solely by the evidence +and his own discretion; but the case would come under the new act before +him to a large extent prejudiced. He is instructed that the warrant that +legalised the man’s apprehension was not issued in vague supposition that +it might he justifiable: an official of the law—a man high in +authority—has sanctioned the arrest, and here is his written testimony +that he considered the step expedient. + +Again, let us for a moment contemplate the difficulties that must always +attend the proving of his honesty by a man who, according to the high +authority of the Lord Chancellor, has “no character to lose.” “As to +what was said about the injury done to a man’s character by supervision, +he must observe that a man’s character was gone after two convictions. +It was idle to say that after two convictions a man had a character.” + +In the case of a man against whom nothing criminal was ever suspected, it +might be easy enough for him to prove his honesty any day, or any hour of +the day, he might be called on to do so; but it is altogether different +with the individual who dare not even lay claim to a character for +honesty, to prove that the suspicions entertained against him are +unfounded. It should be borne in mind that the difficulties of the poor +wretch’s condition almost preclude the possibility of his making a show +of earning his bread in a worthy manner. In the majority of cases he +will be found to be a man without a trade, or, if he has one, he will +probably sink it, and endeavour to keep out of sight of all who knew him +and the story of his downfall, by hiding amongst the great multitude who +turn their hands to any rough-and-ready labour that will bring them a +shilling. There are hundreds and thousands of men in London, and indeed +in all great cities, who “pick up” a living somehow—anyhow, and who, +though they all the time are honest fellows, would find it difficult to +account for, and bring forward evidence to show, how they were engaged +last Monday, and again on Wednesday, and what they earned, and whom they +earned it of. Such men “job about,” very often in localities that, in +the case of a man under police supervision, to be seen there would be to +rouse suspicions as to his intentions. For instance, many a shilling or +sixpence is “picked up” by men who have nothing better to do, by hanging +about railway stations and steamboat wharves, and looking out for +passengers who have luggage they wish carried. But supposing that a man, +a “ticket-of-leave,” was to resort to such a means of obtaining a +livelihood, and that he was seen “hanging about” such places day after +day by a watchful detective who knew who and what he was,—with what +amount of credulity would the authorities receive his statement that he +was “looking out for a chance to carry somebody’s trunk or carpetbag”! +In all probability the naïve assertion would provoke a smile on the face +of the magistrate who heard the case, and there would be “laughter” in +court. + +Again, as is well known, hundreds of men seek work at the docks. It +might be supposed by their innocent lordships that nothing could be +easier than for a man to prove his employment at such gigantic and +sternly-regulated establishments as the London or St. Katherine Docks, +with their staff of liveried officials and responsible gate-keepers. The +dock-labourer, on his admittance, is furnished with a ticket, and when he +leaves he is searched so as to make sure that he has stolen none of the +valuable goods scattered in every direction. But it is a fact that no +system can be looser or more shambling or shabbier than that which rules +in the drudgery departments of these great emporiums for ship-loading and +warehousing. Every morning the dock-gates are besieged by a mob +clamorous as that which in the old time swarmed about the door of the +casual-ward; and if rags and patches and hunger-pinched visages go for +anything, the quality of both mobs is much of a sort. It is only men who +can find nothing else to do who apply at the docks for work, for the pay +is but threepence an hour, and the labour, hoisting-out and landing goods +from the holds of ships, is cruelly hard; and it is not uncommon to +employ a man for an hour and a half or two hours, and then discharge him. +But it is better than nothing, and it is the “ready penny”—emphatically +the penny—that the miserable, shamefaced, twice-convicted man, with some +remnant of conscience and good intent remaining in him, would seek as the +last resource of desperate honesty, all other sources failing him. But +it would be next to impossible for him to prove that he had been working +at the docks; no one knows him there. He might be there employed twenty +times, and each time in a different gang, and under a different ganger. +His workmates for the time are strangers, bearing not names, but numbers. +Were it to save his life, he would find it hard to prove that he +occasionally found a “job” at the docks, and, despite all his honest +exertions, he would he liable to have his ticket revoked, and be sent +back to finish to its full length his original sentence. + +Again, it might even happen that a suspected man able to prove his +honesty would find himself almost in as complete a fix as the one who, +through circumstances over which he had no control, was unable to do so. +Under the existing system, we have Colonel Henderson’s word for it, +masters are never informed by the police that they are employing a +license-holder; but he would cease to be assured this immense advantage +if Lord Kimberley has his way with him. As Earl Shaftesbury pertinently +remarks: “A holder of the ticket-of-leave goes before a magistrate; and +what happens? He proves that he is earning an honest livelihood, and the +magistrate dismisses him. He returns to his work, and his employer +dismisses him also. It has occurred before now that men have been +dismissed by their employers under somewhat similar circumstances. How +can you compensate a man for such a loss as that? You cannot do it; and +yet you expose men who may be earning an honest livelihood to the danger +of that happening to them if they refuse a demand for hush-money, or in +any other way give offence to a dishonest police-constable. I know at +the present moment a young man who, though convicted, is now in +respectable employment, and in the receipt of good wages. He is living +in terror, lest, under the circumstances to which I have referred, he may +be brought before a police-magistrate. Depend on it that hundreds of men +in that position are now watching the progress of this Bill. + +“On the authority of the late Sir Richard Mayne it has been stated that +the police have, through the clause that insists on convicts reporting +themselves monthly, been enabled to furnish employment to a good many of +the ticket-of-leave men; this, however, is very doubtful. That some +situations may have been obtained for these men through the exertions of +the police and the Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society may be true; but of +this I am certain, that whatever returns the police may make of the +places they have obtained for released convicts, they have not obtained +anything like the number that those men obtained for themselves before +the adoption of so stringent a provision.” + +There is undoubtedly a depth of criminality to which it is possible for a +man to descend, putting himself utterly beyond reach of anything but +human compassion. His conversion is quite hopeless, and he is no better +than a predatory wild-beast, whose ferocity will endure just as long as +his brute-strength remains; he would probably bite his best friend at his +dying gasp. The sort of ruffian here alluded to will perhaps be better +understood by aid of the following illustration, “drawn from life” not +many months since. It is a case of a ruffian committed for trial for +“garotting” and nearly murdering a gentleman. The delectable epistle was +written by garotter “Bill” to his brother; and was intrusted to a +prisoner, who had served his time and was about to quit the gaol, for +hand-delivery. Either out of fear or forgetfulness, however, the letter +was left behind and discovered by the authorities. + + “Dundee Prison, July 18th, 1868.—Dear Brother, the only thing I am + afraid of is that moll; if you can manage to square her I fear + nothing; but if she swears she saw me have him by the throat it will + not go well with me, for they are most d—d down on garotting. Then + again, if she says she saw him with that amount of money, by —! they + might put me in for the robbery too; and there is seven years dead + certain. You don’t know what a b— like that will say. It can surely + to God be squared between so many of you, and only the moll to come + against me. If the bloke is in town he could be easily squared, I + think; you could get him sweet, put the gloves on him, and things + like that, and get him to say he cannot swear to me in court; that + would be all that was wanted; or it is very easy giving that moll a + dose. Put Ginger up to it; who the h— would take notice of a w— + kicking the bucket? I would do it for you. If any of them is + squared, tell Ginger to just sign M. H. at the bottom of her letter, + so as I may know. I think it would be a good idea for my mother to + get the bloke privately, and make an appeal to him; he would have a + little feeling for her, I think; if you was getting him into the + Garrick the wifey could talk to him so fine. If you only had one of + them squared that’s all that is wanted; for I am certain there is no + more against me than them two. Set your brains to work, and stick at + nothing; tell them not to be afraid of perjury in this case; they + can’t be brought in for it nohow; swear black is white; I must get + off if they do the right thing; swear to anything; swear the b— wigs + off their heads; there is no danger of being brought in for perjury + in this case, not a d—d bit.—BILL.” + +At the head of the letter the following was written across the page: + + “Poison the moll if she will not do what’s right; by C—! I would + think d—d little of doing it to save my brother! Ginger will fix her + if you tell her to.” + +The following was written inside the envelope of the letter: + + “They must not forget about me having a sore hand; that might help me + too, as it would not be very likely I could seize him by the throat + and compress the same, as it is stated in my indictment. That will + be a good point, I think, he being a stout man. Tell them to be sure + and stick to not seeing the bloke, and that I slept in the house that + night; not likely that I could hold him with one hand; they can swear + that my right hand was very sore, not fit to be used anyhow, as it + was, and no mistake.” + +It came out in the course of the evidence that the meaning of the word +“bloke” was “a man whom a woman might pick up in the street;” that “moll” +was the name for a woman; and that “Ginger” was a nickname for one of the +female witnesses. + +To ruffians of this school, if to any, applies Lord Carnarvon’s terrible +suggestion of imprisonment for life, without hope, or possibility even, +of release. + + “It is idle to say that the subject of so many convictions is not + absolutely and hopelessly hardened: they belong to a class of persons + on whom punishment is only wasted, and the only thing is to shut them + up for the rest of their lives, and keep them out of the possibility + of doing any harm to society. I believe that such a course is best + for them and for society, and that no objection to it can be + reasonably urged. The convict-establishments of this country are + already paying their way, and the surplus cost is very light; on the + other hand, if you look at the cost which a criminal puts the State + to in his detection, trial, and other criminal proceedings, it is + perfectly clear that the cheapest course for the country would be to + shut him up. As far as the man himself is concerned it is also the + most humane and the kindest course. He exchanges a most miserable + state of life outside the prison-walls, for one of comparative + cleanliness and order inside. And if you calculate the time which + such a man has spent in prison—broken only by the shorter intervals + during which he has been let loose and again recaptured—it will be + found that the difference between the period actually spent in prison + and a lifelong sentence would really be very slight in amount.” + +As need not be mentioned, however, habitual criminals of the type above +quoted are by far the exception, and not the rule. Experience teaches us +that to become a ticket-of-leave man is not invariably to be converted +from a human creature to a callous brute,—blind and deaf in vice, and +doggedly determined so to continue to the last; give him a fair chance to +amend, and in very many cases he will embrace it, thankfully even. The +statistics of the Prisoners’ Aid Society encourage us to hope better of +even the worst of the criminal class. As has already been shown, the +convicts themselves recognise and gratefully appreciate the advantages +held out to them by the humanitarians whose head-quarters are by Charing +Cross. Of 368 male convicts discharged in one year, only 78 neglected to +make application for the bounty. It appears from the Society’s most +recent return that the total number of discharged prisoners assisted by +the association since May 1857 was 5,798, but the average number had +recently decreased, because fewer prisoners had of late been released on +license. The number of those who had applied to the Society during the +first six months of last year (1868) was 145, of whom 26 had emigrated; +44 had found good and constant employment in the metropolis; 15 had gone +to sea; 25 had been sent to places beyond the Metropolitan +Police-district, and placed under the supervision of the local police, +and 35 had been classed as unsatisfactory and bad: but these included all +those who were known to be in honest employment, but were so classed +because they failed to report themselves to the police, as required by +the Act. + +It remains to be seen whether the Commons will give countenance to the +new and severe measures sought by the Lords to be adopted against the +convicted man at liberty under ticket-license. One thing is certain, it +would be better to do away altogether with tickets-of-leave than use them +as stumbling-blocks to a man’s reformation. The only object of a +ticket-of-leave is to give the holder a chance of returning to honest +courses some months earlier than, under the rigid term of his sentence, +he would be enabled to. Undoubtedly it is necessary to guard against, as +far as possible, an abuse of the privilege. Full and sufficient +opportunity should be allowed a man to follow honest pursuits, if he be +so inclined; but it is only fair that the authorities should reserve to +themselves the power of holding him in tether, so to say, so as to be +able to haul him back to fast anchorage, should his ill-behaviour make +such a step desirable; but meanwhile the tether-line should run slack and +free—it should by no means be wound about a man’s hands so as to impede +his honest use of them, or about his neck so as to strangle him. At +Wakefield we are informed there is an organisation by which every +prisoner on his discharge—whether on a ticket-of-leave or otherwise—could +find a home for six or twelve months, till he is able to find employment +for himself, or till an employer came to look for him. Eighty per cent +of the persons attached to the Wakefield establishment had engaged in, +and settled down to, honest employment. Surely such a result should +encourage those in authority to found similar institutions in other parts +of the country. + + * * * * * + +To return, however, to the projected Habitual Criminals’ Bill. It is not +the ticket-of-leave man alone who has reasons for quaking lest it should +become law; quaking for fear of injustice, not justice, that is to say. +The class its stern provisions chiefly, and, as I venture to opine, +cruelly affect are those unfortunates who have suffered two distinct +terms of imprisonment. From the date of his second conviction a man is +to be subject to police supervision for a term of seven years. They have +the advantage over the ticket-of-leave man, that they are not required to +report themselves periodically at a police-station; but, like the +criminal of deeper dye, any day within their seven years of supervision +they are liable to be arrested by the police and taken before a +magistrate, to prove that they are not deriving a livelihood from +dishonest sources. Should they fail in doing so, they are to be +committed to prison for a year. Of the question itself, “What is an +habitual criminal?” remarks the _Times_, commenting on the communication +of its correspondent, “we say, take a walk with the police, and they will +show you the class in all its varieties as easily as you could be shown +the animals in the Zoological Gardens. Here they are,—men about whose +character and calling nobody would ever pretend to entertain a doubt. We +have been all perplexing ourselves with the possible fate of some +contrite convict disposed to become respectable, but thwarted in his +efforts by the intervention of the police. Why, among the real genuine +representatives of crime—among the people described by our +correspondent—there is not a man who dreams, or ever would dream, of any +honest calling . . . The profession has its grades, like any other; and +so here is a company of first-class thieves, and another company +representing the opposite end of the scale. At one establishment they +are fashionably attired, and not altogether ill-mannered; at another the +type is that of Bill Sykes himself, even to his bulldog. But through all +these descriptions, whether of house or inmate, host or guest, high or +low, thief or receiver, there runs one assumption which we press upon our +readers as practically decisive of the question before us. It is this: +that about ‘the habitual criminality’ of the whole class there is not, in +the mind of any human creature concerned, the smallest doubt whatever. . +. . The practice of the past generation was simple: some petty offence +commonly began, then as now, a criminal career. It was detected and +punished, and the criminal was sent back to his place in society. A +second, and perhaps a third, act of deeper guilt followed, and the +graduate in crime was condemned to transportation beyond seas. As long +as this punishment retained any terrors it may have been efficient; but +long before it was abandoned it had come to be recognised as an +acknowledged benefit rather than a penalty by those who were sentenced to +it. The result was the constant secretion of a criminal class on one +hand, and the removal on the other to another sphere when they became +ripe for the voyage—the removal being viewed as an encouragement to the +commission of similar offences. We must make the painful acknowledgment +that part of this dismal cycle cannot be materially altered. When a man +is convicted of his first criminal act, we cannot know whether it is an +isolated deed or whether it is the first-fruit of a lifetime. When he +has gone from less to greater, and has proved himself indurated in crime, +we are forced to protect society by removing him from it. . . . Nor does +the proposal involve that extensive and minute system of police +_espionage_ of which some people have been apprehensive. An honest man +can always keep out of such questionable circumstances; and unless he +places himself within them, he is as independent of the police as any +unconvicted Englishman. When a man has been twice convicted, it is +surely no great hardship to deprive him of the privilege of attempting +and plotting crime with impunity.” + + + + +III.—Professional Beggars. + + +CHAPTER XII. +THE BEGGAR OF OLDEN TIME. + + +“_Only a Beggar_”—_The Fraternity_ 333 _Years ago_—_A Savage Law_—_Origin +of the Poor-Laws_—_Irish Distinction in the Ranks of Beggary_—_King +Charles’s Proclamation_—_Cumberland Discipline_. + +WERE it not that the reader’s sound and simple sense renders it quite +unnecessary, it might be of importance to premise that to be “only a +beggar” does not constitute a human being a curse against his species. +There are those amongst the greatest and most famous who have been +beggars, and many of the mightiest, groaning under the crushing burden of +distracting power and unruly riches, have bemoaned their fate and envied +the careless beggar whose dwindled strength was at least equal to +carrying his slender wallet, whose heart was as light as his stomach, and +whose wildest dreams of wealth never soared vastly above a cosy barn to +sleep in, a warm old cast-off coat, and a sixpence. To be sure, in many +instances these dissatisfied ones may not have given any steadfast +consideration as regards such a decided change of state as might happen +to suit them. It is related of a King of Scotland that, wearying of the +cares of government, he slipped away from his palace and its cloying +luxuries, to taste the delights that attach to the existence of ragged +roving mendicants; but though his majesty affected to have enjoyed +himself very much, and discoursed afterwards gravely of the great moral +profit it brought him, it is not recorded that he persevered for any very +long time in the pursuit of the newly-discovered blessing, or that he +evinced any violent longing to return to it. Perhaps, having convinced +himself of the advantages of poverty, he generously resolved to leave it +to his subjects, contenting himself with such occasional glimpses of it +as might be got by looking out o’ window. + +It is now 333 years ago since the beggar ceased to be dependent on +voluntary charity, and the State insisted on his support by the parishes. +In the year 1536 was passed an Act of Parliament abolishing the +mendicant’s right to solicit public alms. Under a penalty of twenty +shillings a month for every case of default, the parochial authorities +were bound to provide work for the able-bodied. A poor’s-rate, as we now +understand the term, was not then thought of, the money required for +pauper relief being chiefly derived from collections in the churches, a +system that to a limited extent enabled the clergy to exercise their +pious influences as in the old times, and before the destruction of +monasteries and religious houses by Henry VIII. It was the wholesale +spoliation in question, that occurred immediately after the Reformation, +that first made known to the people at large the vast numbers of beggars +that were amongst them. The Act of 27 Henry VIII. c. 25, prohibited +indiscriminate almsgiving. + +What the charitable townsman had to give, he was bound to distribute +within the boundaries of the parish in which he resided. Under the old +and looser condition of affairs the beggar derived the greater part of +his gettings from the traveller; but the obnoxious Act effectually cut +off from him this fruitful source of supply, since it provided that any +parishioner or townsman who distributed alms out of his proper district, +should forfeit to the State ten times the amount given. Whether the +recipient of the bounty was in a position to act as “informer,” with the +customary advantage of receiving half the penalty, is not stated. + +Against sturdy beggars the law was especially severe. On his first +conviction he was whipped, the second led to the slicing-off of his right +ear, and if after that he was deaf to the law’s tender admonitions, +sentence of death was executed on him. + +This savage law, however, remained in force not more than ten years; one +of the earliest Acts of Edward VI. was to mitigate the penalties +attaching to beggary. Even under this humane King’s ruling, however, a +beggar’s punishment was something very far beyond a joke. Every person +able to work, and not willing, and declining a “job,” though for no more +tempting wages than his bare meat and drink, was liable to be branded on +the shoulder, and any man willing to undertake the troublesome charge +might claim the man as his slave for two years. His scale of diet during +that time was more meagre than that allotted to the pauper in our own +times. If the slave’s master was a generous man, he might bestow on him +the scraps from his table, or such meat-offal as his dogs had no relish +for; but in law he was only bound to provide him with a sufficiency of +bread and water. If such hot feeding did not provoke him to arouse and +set to work with a will, his master might chain him and flog him to +death’s door; and so long as he did not drive him beyond that, the law +would hold him harmless. Sometimes the poor wretch so goaded would run +away, but in the event of his being recaptured, he was branded on the +cheek, and condemned to lifelong servitude; and if this did not cure his +propensity for “skedaddling,” he was hanged offhand. Any employer having +a fancy for such a commodity as an incorrigible runaway might have the +man so condemned as his slave for life; but if no one offered, he was +chained at the legs and set to work to keep the highways in repair. + +It was speedily found, however, that under such mild laws it was +impossible to keep the begging fraternity in a proper frame of mind; and +after a trial of it for three years the old Act of Henry was restored in +full force. + +In 1551 there dawned symptoms of the system that has taken more than +three hundred years to develop, and even now can scarcely lay claim to +perfection. Collectors were appointed whose duty it was to make record +of the name, residence, and occupation of all who apparently were able to +give, as well as of those whose helpless distress entitled them to +relief. In the words of the ancient enactment, the said collectors were +to “gently ask every man and woman, that they of their charity will give +weekly to the relief of the poor.” To give, however, was optional, and +not compulsory; no more severe pressure was brought to bear against a +grudger than that the minister or churchwardens were sent to him to +exhort him to charity; but so many curmudgeons remained inexorable that +the voluntary system remained in force no longer than twelve years; and +then the statute regulating poor’s relief was remodelled, and it was +declared good law that any person able to contribute, and declining to do +so, might be summoned before a justice, who would tax him according to +his discretion, and commit him to gaol if he still remained obdurate. + +This last Act was passed in 1563, but nine years afterwards, we find the +Government once again urged to repair what evidently had all this time +remained an unsatisfactory business. It is evident that the arrangements +made for the support of the impotent poor tended to loosen the shackles +invented for the suppression of the professional beggar. The +last-mentioned individual was found to be flourishing again, and it was +deemed advisable to make still shorter his restricted tether. A law was +passed enacting that “all persons whole and mighty in body, able to +labour, not having land or master, nor using any lawful merchandise, +craft, or mystery, and all common labourers, able in body, loitering and +refusing to work for such reasonable wage as is commonly given, should +for the first offence be grievously whipped, and burned through the +gristle of the right ear with a hot iron of the compass of an inch +about.” + +This mild and moderate mandate was promulgated under the sanction of the +virgin Queen Elizabeth, and it is to be observed that during the same +beneficent reign were passed laws in connection with labour and labourers +that, were they revived, would go hard with trade-unionists and strikers +in general. By the statutes 39 of Elizabeth, cap. 3 and 4 (1598), to +refuse to work at the recognised and ordinary wages subjected the +malcontent to be “openly whipped until his body should be bloody, and +forthwith sent from parish to parish, the most straight way to the parish +where he was born, there to put himself to labour, as a true subject +ought to do.” Under the same Acts of Elizabeth, the overseers of the +poor in every parish were empowered to raise by “taxation of every +inhabitant, parson, vicar, and other, and of every occupier of lands, +houses, tithes, mines, &c., such sums of money as they shall require for +providing a sufficient stock of flax, hemp, wool, and other ware or stuff +to set the poor on work, and also competent sums for relief of lame, +blind, old, and impotent persons.” By virtue of the Acts in question, +justices were empowered to commit to prison the able-bodied who would not +work; and churchwardens and overseers were charged to build suitable +houses, at the cost of the parish, for the reception of the impotent poor +only. + +As, however, is observed by Mr. Halliday (to whose excellent account of +the _Origin and History of the Poor-Laws_ I stand indebted for much of +the material employed in this summary) “these simple provisions were in +course of time greatly perverted, and many abuses were introduced into +the administration of the poor-law. One of the most mischievous +practices was that which was established by the justices for the county +of Berks in 1795, when, in order to meet the wants of the labouring +population—caused by the high price of provisions—an allowance in +proportion to the number of his family was made out of the parish fund to +every labourer who applied for relief. This allowance fluctuated with +the price of the gallon loaf of second flour, and the scale was so +adjusted as to return to each family the sum which in a given number of +loaves would cost beyond the price, in years of ordinary abundance. This +plan was conceived in a spirit of benevolence, but the readiness with +which it was adopted in all parts of England clearly shows the want of +sound views on the subject. Under the allowance-system the labourer +received a part of his means of subsistence in the form of a parish-gift, +and as the fund out of which it was provided was raised from the +contributions of those who did not employ labourers as well as of those +who did, their employers, being able in part to burden others with the +payment for their labour, had a direct interest in perpetuating the +system. Those who employed labourers looked upon the parish contribution +as part of the fund out of which they were to be paid, and accordingly +lowered their rate of wages. The labourers also looked on the fund as a +source of wage. The consequence was, that the labourer looked to the +parish, and as a matter of right, without any regard to his real wants; +and he received the wages of his labour as only one and a secondary +source of the means of subsistence. His character as a labourer became +of less value, his value as a labourer being thus diminished under the +combined operation of these two causes.” + +In the olden time, as at present, it appears that the Irish figured +conspicuously in the ranks of beggary. As is shown by the recent +returns, there are haunting the metropolis nearly three mendicants +hailing from the Emerald Isle to one of any other nation; and that it was +so so long ago as the reign of King Charles II. the following +proclamation will sufficiently attest: + + “A Proclamation for the speedy rendering away of Irishe Beggars out + of this Kingdome into their owne Countrie and for the Suppressing and + Ordering of Rogues and Vagabonds according to the Laws. + + “Whereas this realme hath of late been pestered with great numbers of + Irishe beggars who live here idly and dangerously, and are of ill + example to the natives of this Kingdome; and whereas the multitude of + English rogues and vagabonds doe much more abound than in former + tymes—some wandering and begging under the colour of soldiers and + mariners, others under the pretext of impotent persons, whereby they + become a burden to the good people of the land—all which happeneth by + the neglect of the due execution of the lawes formerly with great + providence made for relief of the true poor and indigent and for the + punishment of sturdy rogues and vagabonds: for the reforming thereof + soe great a mischiefe, and to prevent the many dangers which will + ensue by the neglect thereof; the King, by the advice of his Privy + Council and of his judges, commands that all the laws and statutes + now in force for the punishment of rogues and vagabonds be duly putt + in execution; and more particularly that all Irishe beggars which now + are in any part of this Kingdome, wandering or begging under what + pretence soever, shall forthwith depart this realme and return to + their owne countries and there abide.” + +The authorities of Cumberland and Westmoreland appear to have hit on an +expedient that has proved successful in diminishing the number of tramps +that formerly infested those counties. A recently published report +states: “In consequence of frequent and general complaints from the +people of these two counties, as to the numerous robberies committed by +tramping vagrants, it was determined, at the end of the year 1867, to +enforce the Vagrant Act strictly. The result has been that, in the year +ending at Michaelmas 1868, 524 persons were apprehended in the two +counties for begging from house to house, and 374 of them were committed +to prison. The effect has been, to a certain extent, like that which +occurred in the time of the cattle-plague; when the police told the +tramps at the frontier that they must either stop or must be disinfected, +and they turned hack. The daily average number of tramps and vagrants in +the two counties in the year ending at Michaelmas 1868 was only 150, +making a total decrease of 6935 in the year; and various petty larcenies, +burglaries, and other crimes decreased remarkably. The chief constable +has reported that the course adopted has been attended with most +beneficial results, in checking professional mendicancy and preventing +crime; and he is persuaded that if the law were generally and uniformly +carried into effect, tramping vagrancy, as a trade, would be very soon +put an end to. He says that, as a rule, the condition of the hands will +enable the police to judge between the professional tramp and the working +man really travelling in search of work, and that all difficulty might be +removed by requiring the latter to procure a certificate from the head of +the police of the starting-place, which would protect him against +apprehension, and which might also guarantee certain relief at appointed +places along his route.” + + + +CHAPTER XIII. +THE WORK OF PUNISHMENT AND RECLAMATION. + + +_The Effect of_ “_The Society for the Suppression of Mendicity_”—_State +Business carried out by Individual Enterprise_—“_The Discharged +Prisoners’ Aid Society_”—_The quiet Work of these Societies_—_Their Mode +of Work_—_Curious Statistics_—_Singular Oscillations_—_Diabolical +Swindling_. + +THE Society for the Suppression of Mendicity has done more towards +checking imposture, and bringing evildoers to punishment, than the +Government itself, notwithstanding all the elaborate and expensive +machinery at its command. Nor, by the way, is this a solitary instance +of business peculiarly its own being shirked by the State, and handed +over to be dealt with by the skill, energy, and perseverance of a few +private individuals. A kindred association to that, the province of +which is the better government of the beggars of London, is that which +devotes its energies to the reclamation of returned convicts. Anyone at +all acquainted with the matter is aware of the immense amount of lasting +and substantial good that the “Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society” has +accomplished. That the individuals chiefly concerned—the returned +convicts themselves—fully appreciate the advantages held out by the said +Society is sufficiently proved by the fact, that out of 368 +licence-holders discharged into the metropolis, 290 placed themselves in +its hands. No doubt such arrangements do prove as convenient as +economical as regards the Government; but whether it is just to inflict a +responsibility of such magnitude on private individuals is another +question; or whether the easement it confers is cheaply purchased by our +rulers at the cost of so unmistakable a confession of their incapacity. + +So quietly and unobtrusively do these self-constituted guardians of +public morality perform the arduous duties they undertake, that it may be +safely assumed not one person in a thousand is aware what their prime +objects are, let alone the means by which they are accomplished. As +regards the Mendicity Society, there can be no doubt what is the popular +impression. It is commonly regarded as a sort of amateur detective +association for the discovery of fraudulent begging,—a Society that has +in its employ certain cunning individuals of the detested breed of +“spies,” who earn their wages by lurking in shady places, and peeping +over men’s shoulders, and covertly listening to their private +conversation. The full extent of the Society’s usefulness, according to +vulgar prejudice, is represented by the unfortunate “cadger” pounced on +in the act of receiving alms, and carried before a magistrate to account +for that enormous iniquity. People, however, who know no more of the +Society than this, know only of the smallest and least important of its +functions. It is a poor’s-relief association on an extensive scale. It +has its labour-sheds for testing the genuineness of the mendicants that +apply at the office, to say nothing of a real treadmill of its own. +Moreover it proclaims its ability to offer suitable employment to _every_ +able-bodied mendicant referred to it. The following is the Society’s +method of dealing. The plan of the institution is to provide subscribers +with tickets, which are intended to be distributed to street-beggars +only, and which will insure admission to the Society’s office, where the +applicant is examined by the sitting or assistant manager, who directs +such immediate relief as in his judgment may appear proper. + +If the applicant appears deserving, and is without lodging, money +sufficient to procure one for the night is given. In cases where the +applicant appears to have an immediate claim on any London parish, the +pauper is referred to the overseers of such parish. If, as in some +cases, it is requisite for the applicant to return on a subsequent day, +he is furnished with a return-ticket, which introduces him again to the +office for further relief. In the mean time inquiry is made, if +practicable, into the character of the pauper, by which the sitting +manager is governed in awarding proper relief. Men are sent to the +Society’s premises to chop wood, and women and children to the +oakum-room. During the time they are employed, men receive eightpence, +and women fourpence per day, for lodging-money, and two meals, and one +meal for each member of the family; and on Saturdays double allowance of +money, with an extra meal to take home for each, that they may have no +excuse for begging on Sunday. Each meal in winter consists of a pint of +nutritious soup, and a sixth of a four-pound loaf of good bread; and in +summer one quarter of a pound of cheese, and the same proportion of +bread. At the end of a week, if they apply, the order for work may be +renewed, until they have been employed a month, when the case is +discharged, unless the sitting manager considers an extension of +employment desirable; in which case it is laid before the committee, who +renew the order for another month, or give such other relief as they +think most likely to prevent the necessity of a recurrence to +street-begging. In order to check repeated applications from the same +persons, those who habitually resort to the refuges for the houseless, or +the metropolitan workhouses, for lodging, and to the Society for food, if +males, have to perform three hours’ work at the mill; if females, three +hours’ work at oakum-picking, before food is given them; and the men may +also, if practicable, have three days’ work at stone-breaking. +Applicants of this description making more than six applications within +one year are refused further relief, unless on investigation they are +found deserving of assistance. + +Persons who have not been six months in London are not considered objects +of the charity; but food is given to persons passing through London in +search of work, to assist them on their way. In the case of mendicants +incapable of labour, the amount of daily allowance is 6_d._ for a single +man, 9_d._ for a man, his wife, and young child, and 1_s._ in any other +case; but this allowance may be doubled on Saturday night, at the +discretion of the sitting or assistant-manager. Labourers at the mill +receive 6_d._ per day, and the wife and children of persons employed may +receive a meal. The wives of men employed either at the mill or +stone-yard may also have work, and receive wages, provided that their +joint earnings do not exceed one shilling per day. + +The Society’s “Report” recently issued shows the kind and the extent of +the business transacted through its officials up to the close of the year +1867. It contains much that is interesting as well as instructive, and +not a little that is puzzling. We are informed that within the year 644 +vagrants were arrested and taken before a magistrate, and that of this +number 311 were committed, and 333 discharged. From the commencement to +the close of the year 1867, upwards of 10,000 cases of “casual” relief +passed through the hands of the Society, as well as between 400 and 500 +cases that are alluded to as “registered”—a term, it may be assumed, that +distinguishes the ordinary casual case from that which demands +investigation and private inquiry. Amongst the whole number, 44,347 +meals were distributed, and a considerable sum of money and some clothes; +it being no uncommon occurrence for the management to rig-out the ragged, +hard-up unfortunate applying for relief, and to start him in the world in +a way that, if he has the intention, gives him a fair chance of +recovering a decent position. + +The most curious part of the affair, however, appears in the plain and +simple tabulated statement that represents the yearly number of vagrants +relieved and set to work, and consigned to proper punishment, since the +time of the Mendicity Society’s first establishment. In the first year +of the Society’s existence, when the scheme was new, and the vagrant crop +dead-ripe for gathering, and the officers eager to get at their new and +novel employment, 385 “sturdy beggars” were caught and sent to gaol. It +is consoling to know that in the last year (1867) this number was +decreased considerably, and that no more than 311 were sentenced. This +may appear no vast reduction, but when we consider not only the +enormously-increased population since 1818, and, what is of equal +significance, the advance of intellect and cleverness and cunning amongst +this as every other community doomed to live by the exercise of its wits, +the result is one on which the country may be congratulated. + +When, however, we come to regard the long column that at a glance reveals +the figures that pertain to vagrant committals for fifty successive +years, a decided damper is thrown on one’s hopes that the trade of the +shiftless roving vagabond is becoming surely though slowly extinguished. +As might be expected of a class so erratic in its movements, it would be +difficult to measure them by any fixed standard; but one is scarcely +prepared to discover the awful amount of uncertainty that prevails as +regards the going and coming of these impostor tramps, when there is a +dearth of them, and when their swarming may be expected. They are like +cholera or plague, and have their seasons of sloth, and again of general +prevalence and virulence. The laws that govern the movements of the +professional beggar are inscrutable. You may make war on him and thin +his ranks, and prosecute him and persecute him, and by the end of the +year be able to show in plain unmistakable figures that he is not half +the formidable fellow he was last year; that you have blunted his sting +and decreased his dimensions. You still prosecute the war of +extermination, and next year you are in a position to reveal in +black-and-white further glorious results. The thousand has become seven +hundred, and again the seven hundred four. At this rate, ere two more +years are elapsed, you may strip the rags from your last beggar’s back, +and hang them on the city gate as a scarecrow and a caution against a +revival of the detestable trade. + +But alas for our delusive hopes! Come another year—that which showed our +seven hundred beggars dwindled down to four—and without any apparent +cause the enemy, crippled and more than half killed as it seemed, +reappears on the stage hale and sound, and with years of life in him yet. +The four hundred has grown to six. There are no means of accounting for +it. Depression of trade and poverty widely prevailing will not do so, +for such are times of prosperity and fattening with the professional +beggar. When “giving” is the order of the day, and benevolence, +sickening at the sight of privation and distress that seems endless, +shuts her eyes and bestows her gifts on all comers, then is the cadger’s +harvest, then he may pursue his shameful avocation with comparative +impunity. If we required evidence of this, it is furnished by the +Society’s statistics. In 1865, which was an ordinarily fair year with +the working man, the number of vagrant committals reached 586, while in +the year following, when destitution prevailed so enormously, and the +outcries of famine were so generously responded to through the length and +breadth of the land, the number of begging impostors who got into trouble +were only 372. + +It will be as well, perhaps, that the reader should have set before him +the figures for the various years precisely as they stand in the +Society’s last issued Report. As will be seen, for some reason that is +not explained, there are no returns for the four years 1830 to 1833 +inclusive. Appended to the “committed vagrant list” is a record of the +number of cases specially inquired into and “registered,” as well as a +statement of the number of meals that were in each year distributed. + + Years. Cases registered. Vagrants committed. Meals given. +1818 3,284 385 16,827 +1819 4,682 580 33,013 +1820 4,546 359 46,407 +1821 2,336 324 28,542 +1822 2,235 287 22,232 +1823 1,493 193 20,152 +1824 1,441 195 25,396 +1825 1,096 381 19,600 +1826 833 300 22,972 +1827 806 403 35,892 +1828 1,284 786 21,066 +1829 671 602 26,286 +1830 848 — 105,488 +1831 1,285 — 79,156 +1832 1,040 — 73,315 +1833 624 — 37,074 +1834 1,226 652 30,513 +1835 1,408 1,510 84,717 +1836 946 1,004 68,134 +1837 1,087 1,090 87,454 +1838 1,041 873 155,348 +1839 1,055 962 110,943 +1840 706 752 113,502 +1841 997 1,119 195,625 +1842 1,223 1,306 128,914 +1843 1,148 1,018 167,126 +1844 1,184 937 174,229 +1845 1,001 868 165,139 +1846 980 778 148,569 +1847 910 625 239,171 +1848 1,161 979 148,661 +1849 1,043 905 64,251 +1850 787 570 94,106 +1851 1,150 900 102,140 +1852 658 607 67,985 +1853 419 354 62,788 +1854 332 326 52,212 +1855 235 239 52,731 +1856 325 293 49,806 +1857 354 358 54,074 +1858 329 298 43,836 +1859 364 305 40,256 +1860 430 350 42,912 +1861 446 335 73,077 +1862 542 411 47,458 +1863 607 451 45,477 +1864 413 370 55,265 +1865 774 586 52,137 +1866 481 372 38,131 +1867 488 311 44,347 + 54,767 27,609 3,713,726 + +Assuming that the Society constantly employs the same number of officers, +and that they are always maintained in the same condition of activity, it +is difficult to account for the disparity displayed by the above-quoted +figures. It would almost seem that the mendicity constabulary were +gifted with a prescience of what was about to happen; that they know, by +the barking of dogs or some other unmistakable token, when “the beggars +are coming to town,” and sallied out, as fishermen do at the approach of +herrings or mackerel, prepared, and fully determined to make a good haul. + +It is a pity that, despite the good work it accomplishes, the Society for +the Suppression of Mendicity should have weighty reasons for lamenting +the falling-off of public support it has of late experienced. Nothing +could be more promising than its launching. It took the field with a +staff of eight constables only, and an income of 4,384_l._; nor could it +be said to disappoint the expectations of its patrons. In its first year +of operation it prosecuted 385 professional vagrants. Its success +progressed. After a lapse of twenty-five years, in 1842 we find it with +an income of 6,576_l._; and that prosperity had not dulled its energy +appears from the fact that in the year last mentioned there occurred, in +the deep waters where that slippery and voracious fish, the incorrigible +beggar, lurks for prey, the splendid catch of over thirteen hundred. +Encouraged by so fair a stroke of business, and the kindness and +generosity of an appreciative public, the Society then added a new branch +to their business—the begging-letter branch; which, it should be +understood, did not originally come within the scope of its operations in +any shape. + +At the expiration of another quarter of a century, however, we find that, +instead of an increase of income to the extent of one-third, as occurred +in the first quarter of a century of the Society’s existence, its +resources have fallen off to the extent of nearly one-half, as compared +with the income of 1842. + +This is as it should not be. As has been shown, feeding the deserving +poor as well as punishing the inveterate vagrant comprises a prominent +feature of the Society’s business, and this it is impossible to do +without adequate funds. It might be supposed that the passing of the +Houseless Poor Act would have diminished the number of applicants to this +and other charitable societies; but there is a large class of persons +temporarily thrown out of work to whom the casual wards of workhouses are +useless, and who do not apply for assistance there. The number of this +class who applied with tickets at the Society’s office during the past +year was more _than double the number of such applicants in the preceding +year_, being, in 1866, 4,378; but in 1867, 10,532. Among these poor +persons 44,347 meals, consisting of 7,389 four-pound loaves, upwards of +four tons of cheese and 785 gallons of soup, have been distributed. In +addition to this amount of food, 65_l._ 7_s._, in small sums of money, +has been given to those whose cases seemed suitable for such relief. + +The apprehended cases were 644, as compared with 693 such cases in 1866; +but though a diminished constabulary force was employed for part of the +year, yet nearly as large a number of old offenders was committed by the +magistrate, being 311 compared with 372 in 1866. The number of +begging-letters referred to the office for inquiry during the past year +was 2,019, being somewhat fewer than the return of such applications for +the year 1866. Of the 2,019 letters 790 were from unknown applicants; +620 from persons previously known to the Society’s officials, but +requiring a more recent investigation; and 609 from persons too well +known to require any investigation. + +The following cases that have occurred during the past year will show the +mode in which the Society deals with the very different classes of +applicants brought within the sphere of its operations: + + “No. 617. F. J.—This young man, 24 years of age, came to the office + with a subscriber’s ticket. He stated that he had been employed last + as a bookkeeper at Manchester, and left that situation in April, and + had since been in London seeking a situation, in which he had failed, + and having no friends here, had become destitute. He was a + well-spoken single man, and appeared to be truthful in his statements + and anxious to return to Manchester, where he had relatives who would + assist him. At the instance of the presiding manager some old + clothes were given him, which improved his appearance, and thirty + shillings were handed to a constable to pay his fare, which was done, + and the balance was given to him. A few days after he wrote from + Manchester a letter, in which he stated that he had every prospect of + obtaining employment, and expressed much gratitude for what had been + done for him at this office.” + + “No. 883. S. F.—This woman, 37 years of age, applied to the Society + with a subscriber’s ticket, alleging her distress to have been caused + by the desertion of her husband and her own inability to procure + employment, owing to the want of decent clothing. She was sent to + the Society’s oakum-room to work, and while there saved enough money + to purchase several articles of wearing apparel. Inquiry was made; + and it being found that her statements were true and her character + good, a situation was found her, in which she still is, apparently + giving satisfaction to her employers, and likely to obtain a + respectable living for the future.” + + “No. 169,150. S. W. G.—This poor woman, the widow of a labourer, and + aged 45 years, had done her best to bring up her family in credit, by + keeping a small coal and greengrocery shop, making ginger-beer, &c. + during the summer months; and several of the children were nearly + providing for themselves, when she lost her sight, and was found in a + state of distress. Her eldest daughter had been obliged to leave her + situation to look to the house; but having a knowledge of the + sewing-machine and a prospect of obtaining work at home, it was + decided to recommend the case for liberal relief, in order that a + machine might be obtained and the daughter thus enabled to assist in + rearing the younger children at home, which object there is reason to + hope has been accomplished.” + + “No. 54,494. C. T., _alias_ S.—A well-dressed woman was apprehended + on a warrant, charging her with obtaining charitable contributions by + false pretences; she had been known to the Society’s officers for + years, and a number of complaints had been lodged at the office + against her during that time; when apprehended on previous occasions + no one could be found willing to appear against her. In the present + instance she had applied to a lady residing at Rutland-gate for a + loan of 2_l._ to enable her to take her brother to Scotland, whom she + represented as having just left the Brompton Hospital very ill, and + that she had been advised to get him to his native air, where they + had friends. To strengthen her appeal she mentioned the names of two + or three persons known to the lady to whom she was applying, and as + having been sent by one of them to her; on the faith of the + representations made she was assisted with 2_l._ 6_s._; but + subsequent inquiry convinced this lady that the statement was false. + At the time the prisoner was taken into custody she had 5_l._ 8_s._ + 5½_d._ on her person; and being made acquainted with the charge + confessed herself guilty of these offences, and offered to repay the + money; but on the case being stated to the magistrate he sentenced + her to three months’ imprisonment, and the money found in her + possession to be applied to her maintenance while there.” + + “No. 42,064. T. B., with a number of aliases, was again apprehended + by one of the Society’s constables; he had been known as a + begging-letter impostor for upwards of twenty years, and during that + period had been three times transported, and as many times liberated + on tickets-of-leave. On this occasion (in company with a woman whom + he represented as a district visitor) he applied to a gentleman + residing in Eaton-square, stating he was ‘Mr. Bond,’ one of the + overseers of St. Marylebone parish, and gave in his card to that + effect. On obtaining an interview, he said he and the lady with him + had interested themselves on behalf of a ‘Mrs. Cole,’ a widow with + six children, a native of Ledbury in Herefordshire, who wished to + return home, where she would be able to obtain a living for herself + and family, and he was seeking subscriptions to purchase the family a + little clothing and funds to defray the expense of their transit. + The gentleman knowing Ledbury well, and believing the prisoner’s + statement to be true, gave him 10_s._; but afterwards finding that he + had been imposed on, obtained a warrant for his apprehension, and the + case being clearly proved, he was sentenced to three months’ + imprisonment; and the magistrate remarked that a more hardened + criminal had never been brought before him, and that the Home + Secretary should be applied to to cause him to finish his unexpired + term of two years and three months.” + + “No. 54,889. M. W.—A woman with an infant in her arms was + apprehended by one of the Society’s constables for endeavouring to + obtain money by false pretences from a gentleman residing in + Portland-place, by stating that her husband was at the Bournemouth + Sanatorium, and produced a letter purporting to be from the medical + officer of the institution, which was as follows: ‘National + Sanatorium, Bournemouth, Hants.—The resident surgeon wishes to inform + Mrs. W. that her husband, having ruptured a blood-vessel, is in a + very precarious state. James W. is very desirous of seeing his wife, + and begs she will come as early as possible.’ This note was signed + as by the resident medical officer. She stated to the prosecutor + that having no means of paying her railway fare, she had applied to + him for assistance, as he had been kind to her husband on previous + occasions. Being apprehended and detained for inquiries, she + admitted the truth of the charge made against her; and the case being + clearly proved, she was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment. The + prisoner and her husband had been carrying on this system of + imposition for a long time, but owing to parties declining to come + forward to prosecute, had not previously been convicted.” + +But there remains yet to notice one member of the begging-letter-writing +fraternity, compared with whom all the rest are mere innocent and +harmless scribblers. After an experience so long and varied, and so many +conflicts sharp and severe with their natural enemies the officers of the +“Society,” and so many exposures and defeats, it might be reasonably +hoped that the professional beggar whose genius takes an epistolary turn +must find his ingenuity well-nigh exhausted; but, as recent revelations +have disclosed, the machinery brought against him for his suppression has +but sharpened his wits and rendered him more formidable than ever. +Although but recently discovered, it is hard to say for how long a time +this diabolical desire for swindling the unwary has existed. Very +possibly, many a “dodge” of minor calibre has been invented and run the +length of its tether, and died the death of all dodges, while the one in +question has lurked in the dark, and grown fat and prospered. + +It would be next to impossible for the imagination most fertile in wicked +invention to conceive anything more devilish and mischievous, or an evil +that might be perpetrated with less fear of detection. The mainspring of +the pretty scheme is not to impose on the benevolence and credulity of +the living, but to blast and vilify the character of the dead. To +obliterate from the hearts of those who were nearest and dearest to +him—the husband dead and buried—all kindly remembrance of him; to tear, +as it were, from his poor honest body the white shroud in which tender +hands had enveloped it, and show him to have lived and died a traitor, a +hypocrite, and an impostor, false to that very last breath with which he +bade his wife, his “only darling,” farewell; and this that some +cold-blooded ruffian may extort from the wronged man’s duped indignant +survivors a few miserable pounds or shillings, as the case may be. + +The process by which the villany in question may be accomplished is much +more simple than would at first appear. The prime condition of the +impostor’s success is that he must reside at a long distance from those +it is his intention to dupe. The swindler lives in France or Germany, +sometimes as far away as America. The first “move” is to look into the +newspaper obituary notices for a likely victim. A gentleman who dies +young, leaving a wife and a numerous family to bemoan their bitter +bereavement, is not uncommonly the case fixed on. If, during his +lifetime, he was a man who, from his station in life, must have been +tolerably well known, so much the better. It is a woman who writes the +letter. She writes of course to the individual as though not in the +least suspecting that he is dead. The following _genuine_ copy of such a +letter will, better than anything, illustrate the cold, cruel, subtle +villany essential to the success of the “Dead-man’s lurk,” as in the +profession it is styled: + + “My ever-dearest Robert,—It is only after enduring the sickening + disappointment that has attended my last three letters sent to the + old address, that I venture to write to your private abode, in the + fervent hope that this my desperate appeal to your oft-tried + generosity may fall into no other hands but your own. + + “I cannot think that my boy’s father can have grown cold towards her + whose whole life is devoted to him, who fled from home and friends, + and took up her abode in a foreign land and amongst strangers, that + her darling might not be troubled,—that his _home_ might be peace. + Alas! what is _my_ home? But I will not upbraid you. Were I alone, + I would be content to die rather than cause you a single pang of + uneasiness; but, as my dear Robert knows, I am _not_ alone. God + still spares our boy to me, though I much fear that the doctor’s + prediction that he would get the better of his ailments when he had + turned the age of ten will not be verified. Sometimes as I sit of + nights—long, weary, thoughtful nights—watching my sick darling, and + thinking of those old times of brief bitter sweetness, I wish that + you could see him, so like your own dear self; but the thought is at + once hushed, when I reflect on the pain it would cause you to + contemplate our poor _fatherless_ boy. I am almost tempted to thank + God that he cannot remain much longer on earth; but it is hard, + cruelly hard, to see him suffer from _want_ as well as from his + painful malady. Do, for the sake of the _old times_, send me a + little money, though only a few pounds. There is no other resource + for us but the workhouse. At any rate, pray send me an answer to + this, and relieve the dreadful suspense that haunts me. + + “P.S. As I have been, from reasons too painful to disclose to you, + compelled to quit the lodgings in V.-street, please direct + Post-office, —. Yours, ever true and faithful, + + ELIZABETH —.” + +As it happened, the gentleman to whom this villanous epistle was +addressed had, till within a few years of his demise, resided in a +far-away quarter of the globe, and under such conditions as rendered a +ten-years-ago intimacy with any English Elizabeth utterly impossible; but +unfortunately his survivors were content to treat the attempted imposture +with silent contempt, and a likely opportunity of bringing to proper +punishment one of a gang of the most pestiferous order of swindlers it is +possible to conceive was lost. It was probably only the _very_ peculiar +and exceptionally conclusive evidence that the letter could not apply to +Mr. Robert —, that saved his friends from painful anxiety, and perhaps +robbery. It is so much less troublesome to hush-up such a matter than to +investigate it. To be sure, no one would have for a moment suspected, +from the precise and proper behaviour of the man dead and gone, that he +could ever have been guilty of such wickedness and folly; but it is so +hard to read the human heart. Such things have happened; and now that +one calls to mind— + +That is the most poisonous part of it,—“now that one calls to mind!” +What is easier than to call to mind, out of the ten thousand remembrances +of a man whose society we have shared for twenty years or more, one or +two acts that at the time were regarded as “strange whims,” but now, +regarded in the light that the damnable letter sheds on them, appear as +parts of the very business so unexpectedly brought to light? Perhaps the +man was privately charitable, and in benevolent objects expended a +portion of his income, without making mention of how, when, and where, or +keeping any sort of ledger account. How his means so mysteriously +dwindled in his hands was a puzzle even to his most intimate +friends—_now_ it is apparent where the money went! But there, it is no +use discussing that now; he has gone to answer for all his sins, and it +is to be devoutly wished that God, in the infinite stretch of His mercy, +will forgive him even this enormous sin. Meanwhile it will never do to +have this base creature coming as a tramping beggar, perhaps with her +boy, and knocking at the door, desperately determined on being cared for +by the man who was the cause of her ruin and her banishment. Better to +send her ten pounds, with a brief note to the effect that Mr. — is now +dead, and it will be useless her troubling again. This is what did _not_ +happen in the case quoted, and for the reasons given; but it might, and +in very many cases it doubtless has happened; and it would be worth a +whole year’s catch of common begging-letter impostors if the Society for +the Suppression of Mendicity could trap a member of the “Dead-lurk” gang, +and hand him over to the tender mercies of the law. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. +BEGGING “DODGES.” + + +_The Variety and Quality of the Imposture_—_Superior Accomplishments of +the Modern Practitioner_—_The Recipe for Success_—_The Power of_ +“_Cheek_”—“_Chanting_” _and the_ “_Shallow Lay_”—_Estimates of their +Paying Value_—_The Art of touching Women’s Hearts_—_The Half-resentful +Trick_—_The London_ “_Cadger_”—_The Height of_ “_The Famine Season_.” + +THE “dodges” to which an individual resolved on a vagrant life will +resort are almost past reckoning; and, as a natural consequence, the +quality of the imposture in modern practice is superior to that which +served to delude our grandfathers. + +It can be no other. As civilisation advances, and our machinery for the +suppression and detection of fraud improves, so, if he would live at all, +must the professional impostor exert all the skill and cunning he is +endowed with to adjust the balance at his end of the beam. It is with +vagrancy as with thieving. If our present system of police had no more +formidable adversaries to deal with than lived and robbed in the days of +those famous fellows, Richard Turpin and Master Blueskin, Newgate might, +in the course of a few years, be converted into a temperance hotel, and +our various convict establishments into vast industrial homes for the +helplessly indigent. So, if the well-trained staff under the captaincy +of that shrewd scenter of make-believe and humbug—Mr. Horsford—was called +on to rout an old-fashioned army of sham blindness, and cripples whose +stumps were fictitious; and of clumsy whining cadgers, who made filthy +rags do duty for poverty, who painted horrid sores on their arms and +legs, and employed a mild sort of whitewash to represent on their +impudent faces the bloodless pallor of consumption,—we might reasonably +hope to be rid of the whole community in a month. + +It is scarcely too much to say, that the active and intelligent +opposition brought to bear of late years against beggars has caused the +trade to be taken up by a class of persons of quite superior +accomplishments. I well recollect, on the memorable occasion of my +passing a night in the society of tramps and beggars, hearing the matter +discussed seriously and at length, and that by persons who, from their +position in life, undoubtedly were those to whose opinion considerable +weight attached. The conversation began by one young fellow, as he +reclined on his hay-bed and puffed complacently at his short pipe, +relating how he had “kidded” the workhouse authorities into the belief +that he had not applied for relief at that casual-ward for at least a +month previously, whereas he had been there for three successive nights. +Of course this was a joke mightily enjoyed by his audience; and a friend, +wagging his head in high admiration, expressed his wonder as to how the +feat could be successfully accomplished. “How!” replied the audacious +one; “why, with cheek, to be sure. Anything can be done if you’ve only +got cheek enough. It’s no use puttin’ on a spurt of it, and knocking +under soon as you’re tackled. Go in for it up to the heads of your — +soul bolts. Put it on your face so gallus thick that the devil himself +won’t see through it. Put it into your eyes and set the tears a-rollin’. +Swear God’s truth; stop at nothing. They’re bound to believe you. There +ain’t nothing else left for ’em. They think that there’s an end +somewhere to lyin’ and cheekin’, and they’re — fools enough to think that +they can tell when that end shows itself. Don’t let your cheek have any +end to it. _That’s_ where you’re right, my lads.” + +I have, at the risk of shocking the reader of delicate sensibilities, +quoted at full the terms in which my ruffianly “casual” chamber-fellow +delivered himself of his opinion as to the power of “cheek” illimitable, +because from the same experienced source presently proceeded as handsome +a tribute to the efficiency of the officers of the Mendicity Society as +they could desire. + +“What shall you do with yerself to-morrow?” one asked of another, who, +weary of song and anecdote and blasphemy, preparatory to curling down for +the night was yawning curses on the parochial authorities for supplying +him with no warmer rug. “It ain’t much you can do anyhows atween the +time when you finish at the crank and go out, till when you wants to come +in agin. It feels like frost; if it is, I shall do a bit of chanting, I +think.” (“Chanting” is vagrant phraseology for street singing.) + +“I’m with you,” replied his friend; “unless it’s cold enough to work the +shaller; that’s the best game. ’Taint no use, though, without its +perishin’ cold; that’s the wust on it.” + +(It may be here mentioned that the “shaller,” or more properly “shallow” +dodge, is for a beggar to make capital of his rags and a disgusting +condition of semi-nudity; to expose his shoulders and his knees and his +shirtless chest, pinched and blue with cold. A pouncing of the exposed +parts with common powder-blue is found to heighten the frost-bitten +effect, and to excite the compassion of the charitable.) + +“There you are wrong,” broke in the advocate of “cheek;” “that isn’t the +wust of it. The wust of it is, that there’s no _best_ of it. It don’t +matter what you try; all games is a-growing stale as last week’s tommy” +(bread). + +“It’s ’cos people get so gallus ’ard-’arted, that’s wot it is,” remarked +with a grin a young gentleman who shared the bed of the ‘cheeky’ one. + +“No, that ain’t it, either; people are as soft-’arted and as green as +ever they was; and so they would shell-out like they used to do, only for +them —” (something too dreadful for printing) “lurchers of the S’ciety. +It’s all them. It ain’t the reg’lar p’lice. They’re above beggars, +’cept when they’re set on. It’s them Mendikent coves, wot gets their +livin’ by pokin’ and pryin’ arter every cove like us whenever they sees +him in the street. They gives the public the ‘office’” (information), +“and the public believes ’em, bust ’em!” + +These observations evidently set the “cheeky” one thinking on times past; +for he presently took up the subject again. + +“Things ain’t wot they was one time. Talkin’ about the shallow lay; Lor’ +bless yer, you should have knowed what it was no longer ago than when I +was a kid, and used to go out with my old woman. Ah, it was summat to +have winter then! I’ve heerd my old woman say often that she’d warrant +to make enough to live on all the rest of the year, if she only had three +months’ good stiff frost. I recollect the time when you couldn’t go a +dozen yards without hearing the flying up of a window or the opening of a +door, and there was somebody a-beckoning of you to give you grub or +coppers. It was the grub that beat us.” + +“How d’ye mean? Didn’t you get enough of it?” + +“Hark at him! enough of it! We got a thunderin’ sight too much of it. A +little of it was all very well, ’specially if it was a handy-sized meaty +bone, wot you could relish with a pint of beer when you felt peckish; +but, bust ’em, they used to overdo it. It don’t look well, don’t you +know, to carry a bag or anythink, when you are on the shallow lay. It +looks as though you was a ‘reg’lar,’ and that don’t ‘act.’ The old gal +used to stow a whacking lot in a big pocket she had in her petticut, and +I used to put away a ‘dollop’ in the busum of my shirt, which it was tied +round the waist-bag hid underneath my trousers for the purpose. But, +Lor’ bless yer, sometimes the blessed trade would go that aggravatin’ +that we would both find ourselves loaded-up in no time. Lor, how my old +woman would swear about the grub sometimes! It used to make me larf; it +was a reg’lar pantermime. She’d be reg’lar weighed down, and me stuffed +so jolly full that I daren’t so much as shiver even, lest a lump of tommy +or meat should tumble out in front, and all the while we’d be pattering +about us not having eat a mouthful since the day afore yesterday. Then +somebody ’ud beckon us; and p’r’aps it was a servant-gal, with enough in +a dish for a man and his dawg. And the old woman ’bliged to curtchy and +look pleased! They ought to have heard her! ‘D— and b— ’em!’ my old gal +used to say between her teeth, ‘I wish they had them broken wittles +stuffed down their busted throats; why the — can’t they give us it in +coppers!’ But she couldn’t say that to them, don’t yer know; she had to +put on a grateful mug, and say, ‘Gord bless yer, my dear!’ to the gal, as +though, if it hadn’t been for that lot of grub turning up that blessed +minute, she must have dropped down dead of starvation.” + +“But scran fetched its price in them times, didn’t it, Billy? There was +drums where you might sell it long afore your time, don’t you know, +Billy?” + +“Course I know. It fetched its price, cert’inly, when you could get away +to sell it; but what I’m speaking of is the inconwenience of it. We +didn’t want no grub, don’t you see; it was the sp’iling of us. S’pose +now we was served like what I just told you; got reg’lar loaded-up when +we was a couple of miles away. What was we to do? We couldn’t go on a +swearin’ as how we was starvin’ with wittles bustin’ out of us all round. +We was ’bliged to shoot the load afore we could begin ag’in. Sometimes +we had to do the ‘long trot’” (go home) “with it, and so sp’iled a whole +arternoon. If we got a chance, we shot it down a gully, or in a dunghole +in a mews. Anythink to get rid of it, don’t you see. I should like to +have just now the rattlin’ lot of grub we’ve been ’bliged to get rid of +in that there way.” + +Despite the decline of the trade of “shallowing,” however, as the reader +must have observed, it is one that is regarded as worth resorting to in +“season.” A more favourite “dodge” at the present is to appear before +the public not in rags and tatters and with patches of naked flesh +disgustingly visible, but in sound thorough labour-stained attire, and +affect the style either of the ashamed unaccustomed beggar or that of the +honest working mechanic, who, desperately driven by stress of poverty, +shapes his loud-mouthed appeal in tones of indignant remonstrance that +rich and prosperous England should permit a man such as he is to be +reduced to the uncomfortable plight in which you now behold him. He is a +solitary cadger, and gets himself up in a manner so artful, that it is +only when you pay attention to his “speech,” and find that he repeats +precisely the same words over and over again, that you begin to have a +suspicion that he is not exactly what he seems. Like the “shallow cove,” +he prefers a very cold or a very wet and miserable day. He does not +enter a street walking in the middle of the road, as the common +“chanting” or “pattering” beggar does; he walks on the pavement with slow +and hesitating gait, and at frequent intervals casts hasty and nervous +glances behind him, as though fearful that he is watched or followed. +Possibly he is so afraid. At all events, should a policeman by rare +chance steal round the corner, his steps will increase in length, and he +will pass out of the street just as an ordinary pedestrian might; but +should he be free to play his “little game,” he will set about it as +follows. + +After looking about him several times, he proceeds to make himself +remarkable to any person or persons who may happen to be gazing +streetward from the window. He will stand suddenly still, and button-up +his coat as though determined on some desperate action. With a +loud-sounding “hem!” he clears his throat and advances towards the +roadway; but, alas, before his feet touch the pavement’s boundary his +courage falters, and he dashes his hand across his eyes and shakes his +head, in a manner that at once conveys to beholders the impression that, +much as he desires it, he is unequal to the performance of what a moment +ago he contemplated and thought himself strong enough to perform. At +least, if this is not made manifest to the beholder, the actor has missed +his object. On he goes again just a few faltering steps—a very few—and +then he cries “hem!” again, louder and fiercer than before, and dashes +into the middle of the road. + +If you had pushed him there, or set your dog at him and he had bounded +there to escape its fangs, the injured look he casts up at you could not +be surpassed. He says not a word for a full minute; he simply folds his +arms sternly and glares at you up at the window, as though he would say +not so much “What do you think of me standing here?” as “What do you +think of yourself, after having driven me to do a thing so ignominious +and shameful?” These necessary preliminaries accomplished, in a loud +impassioned voice he opens: + +“WHAT!”—(a pause of some seconds’ duration)—“WHAT! will a man not do to +drive away from his door the WOLF that assails the wife of his bosom and +his innocent horfspring?” + +He appears to await an answer to this, as though it were a solemn +conundrum; though from the moody contraction of his eyebrows and the +momentary scorn that wrinkles the corners of his mouth as he still gazes +all round at the windows, he seems to be aware that it is one which on +account of your complete ignorance of such matters you will never guess. + +“Doubtless, my friends, you are astonished to see me in this humiliating +attitude, addressing you like a common beggar. But what else am I? What +is the man who implores you to spare him from your plenty—ay, and your +luxury—a _penny_ to save from starving those that are dearer to him than +his HEART’S blood, but a beggar? But, my friends, a man may be a beggar, +and still be not ashamed. _I_ am not ashamed. I might be, if it was for +myself that I asked your charity; but I would not do so. I would die +sooner than I would stoop to do it; but what is a HUSBAND to do, when he +has a wife weak and ill from her confinement; who is dying by HINCHES for +that nourishment that I have not to give her?” (Here a violent blowing +of his nose on a clean cotton pocket-handkerchief.) “What, my dear +friends, is a FATHER to do, when his little ones cry to him for BREAD? +Should he feel ashamed to beg for them? Ask yourselves that question, +you who have good warm fires and all that the heart can desire. I am +_not_ ashamed. It is a desperate man’s last resource; and I ask you +again, as my fellow-creatures, will you turn away from me and deny me the +small assistance I beg of you?” + +Generally he is successful. Women—young mothers and old mothers +alike—find it hard to resist the artless allusion to the wife, “weak and +ill from her confinement,” and the amazingly well-acted sudden outburst +of emotion that the actor is so anxious to conceal under cover of blowing +his nose. To be sure he is not a prepossessing person, and his style of +appeal is somewhat coarse and violent; but that stamps it, in the eyes of +the unwary, as genuine. If he “knew the trade,” he would know that he +should be meek and insinuating, not loud-mouthed and peremptory. In +short, his behaviour is exactly that of a man—a hard-working fellow when +he has it to do—driven to desperation, and with a determination to raise +enough to buy a loaf somehow. It would be a monstrous thing to refuse +such a poor fellow because of his blunt inapt way of asking; and so the +halfpence come showering down. It is several months ago since I last saw +this worthy; but I have no doubt that his wife has not yet recovered from +her confinement, that his children are yet crying for bread, and that he +is still not ashamed to solicit public charity to save them from +starving. + +There are other types of the shy, blunt-spoken beggar, who affect almost +to resent the charity they solicit. These abound, as indeed do all +street-beggars, chiefly in the severest months of winter. As long as one +can remember, gangs of men have perambulated the highways in the frosty +months, but until recently they were invariably “chanters,” with a legend +of coming “all the way from Manchester.” But song is eschewed in modern +times. It is found better to avoid old-fashioned forms, and appear as +men destitute and down-trodden perhaps, but still with self-respect +remaining in them. There is no occasion for them to give you a song for +your money; they are not called on to give a lengthy and humiliating +explanation as to how they came there; _you_ know all about it. You must +have read in the newspapers, “that, owing to the many stoppages of public +and private works, there are at the present time hundreds of able-bodied +and deserving labouring men wandering the streets of London, driven to +the hard necessity of begging their bread.” Well, these are of the +number. Observe the unmistakable token of their having laboured on a +“public work,” to wit, a railway-cutting, in the clay baked on their +“ankle-jacks” and fustian trousers. Regard that able-bodied individual, +the leader of the gang, with his grimy great fists and the smut still on +his face, and for a moment doubt that he is a deserving labouring man. +He is an engineer, out of work since last Christmas, and ever since so +hard-up that he has been unable to spare a penny to buy soap with. If +you don’t believe it, ask him. But to this or any other detail himself +or his mates will not condescend in a general way. All that they do, is +to spread across the street, and saunter along with their hands in their +pockets, ejaculating only, “Out of work!” “Willin’ to work, and got no +work to do!” If you followed them all day, you would find no change in +their method of operation, excepting the interval of an hour or so at +midday spent in the tap-room of a public-house. If you followed them +after that, your steps in all probability would be directed towards +Keate-street, Spitalfields, or Mint-street in the Borough, in both of +which delightful localities common lodging-houses abound; and if you were +bold enough to cross the threshold and descend into the kitchen, there +you would discover the jolly crew sitting round a table, and dividing the +handsome spoil of the day, while they drank “long lasting to the frost” +in glasses of neat rum. + +At the same time, I should be very sorry for the reader to misunderstand +me, as wishing to convey to him the impression that in every instance the +gangs of men to be met with in the streets in winter-time are vagrants +and impostors. It is not difficult to imagine a company of hard-up poor +fellows genuinely destitute; mates, perhaps, on the same kind of work, +resorting to this method of raising a shilling rather than apply at the +workhouse for it. An out-o’-work navvy or a bricklayer would never think +of going out to beg alone, whereas he would see no great amount of +degradation in joining a “gang.” He thus sinks his individuality, and +becomes merely a representative item of a depressed branch of industry. +There can be no doubt that a sixpence given to such a man is well +bestowed for the time being; but it would be much better, even though it +cost many sixpences, if the labourer were never permitted to adopt this +method of supplying his needs. In the majority of cases, it may be, the +out-o’-work man who resorted to the streets to beg for money would, when +trade improved, hurry back to work, and be heartily glad to forget to +what misfortune had driven him; but there are a very large number of +labourers who, at the best of times, can live but from hand to mouth as +the saying is, and from whom it is desirable to keep secret how much +easier money may be got by begging than working. To a man who has to +drudge at the docks, for instance, for threepence an hour—and there are +thousands in London who do so—it is a dangerous experience for him to +discover that as much may be made on an average by sauntering the +ordinary length of a street, occasionally raising his hand to his cap. +Or he may know beforehand, by rumour, what a capital day’s work may be +done at “cadging,” and in bitter sweat of underpaid labour complain that +he is worse off than a cadger. It is as well to provide against giving +such a man an excuse for breaking the ice. + +There are, however, other impostors amongst the begging fraternity +besides those who adopt the professional dress of vagrancy, and +impudently endeavour publicly to proclaim their sham distress and +privation. The terrible condition of want into which thousands of the +working population of London were plunged the winter before last +developed the “cadger” in question in a very remarkable degree. This +personage is not a demonstrative cheat. His existence is due entirely to +the growing belief in decent poverty, and in the conviction that in +frosty “hard-up” times much more of real destitution is endured by those +whose honest pride will not permit them to clamour of their wants, and so +make them known. There can be no doubt but that this is perfectly true, +and, despite all that horridly blunt philanthropists say to the contrary, +it is a quality to be nurtured rather than despised. As everybody knows, +of late years it _has_ been nurtured to a very large extent. At the +East-end of the town, in Poplar and Shadwell, where, owing to the +slackness in the trade pertaining to the building of ships, poverty was +specially prevalent, quite a small army of benevolently-disposed private +individuals were daily employed going from house to house, and by +personal inquiry and investigation applying the funds at their disposal +quietly and delicately, and to the best of then ability judiciously. +There can be no question that by these means a vast amount of good was +done, and many a really decent family provided with a meal that otherwise +would have gone hungry; but an alarming percentage of evil clung to the +skirts of the good. It is a positive fact that in the most squalid +regions—those, indeed, that were most notorious for their poverty—the +value of house-property increased considerably. The occupants of +apartments, who during the previous summertime were unable to meet the +weekly exactions of the collector, now not only met current demands, but +by substantial instalments rapidly paid-up arrears of rent. Landlords +who for months past had been glad to take what they could get, now became +inexorable, and would insist on one week being paid before the next was +due. They could afford to indulge in this arbitrary line of behaviour +towards their tenants. Rents were “going up;” rooms that at ordinary +times would realise not more than 2_s._ or 2_s._ 3_d._ each, now were +worth 3_s._ 6_d._ Ragman’s-alley and Squalor’s-court and Great and +Little Grime’s-street were at a premium. They were localities famous in +the newspapers. Everybody had read about them; everybody had heard the +story of the appalling heart-rending misery that pervaded these +celebrated places. Day after day gentlefolks flocked thereto, and +speedily following these visitations came tradesmen’s porters bearing +meat and bread and groceries. To be a Squalor’s-alleyite was to be a +person with undoubted and indisputable claims on the public purse, and to +be comfortably provided for. To be a denizen of Great Grime’s-street was +to reside in an almshouse more fatly endowed than the Printers’ or the +Drapers’ or the Fishmongers’. + +It was impossible for such a paradise to exist without its fame being +blown to the most distant and out-of-the-way nooks of the town. North, +west, and south the cadgers and impostors heard of it, and enviously +itched to participate in the good things. And no wonder! Here was bread +and meat and coals being furnished to all who asked for them, at the rate +of twenty shillingsworth a-week at the least; nay, they were provided +without even the asking for. It was unnecessary to cross the threshold +of your door to look after them, for those whose happy task it was to +distribute the prizes came knocking, and in the tenderest terms made +offer of their assistance. All that was needful was to secure a lodging +in Ragman’s-court or Little Grime’s-street, and pay your rent regularly, +and sit down and await the result. And lodgings were so secured. It is +positively true that at the height of the “famine season” at the East-end +of London, when day after day saw the columns of the daily newspapers +heavily laden with the announced subscriptions of the charitable, +hundreds of questionable characters, “working men” in appearance, quitted +other parts of the metropolis, and cheerfully paid much more rent than +they had been accustomed to pay, for the privilege of squatting down in +the midst of what was loudly and incessantly proclaimed to be “a colony +of helpless out-o’-works, famine-stricken, and kept from downright +starvation only by the daily and hourly efforts of the charitable.” + +This much might of course be expected of the professed beggar and the +cadger by education and breeding; but it would be interesting to learn +how many shiftless ones—those semi-vagabonds who labour under the +delusion that they are idle men only because work is denied them, and who +are continually engaged in the vague occupation of “looking for a +job”—gave way before the great temptation, and became downright cadgers +from that time. With such folk the barrier to be broken down is of the +flimsiest texture, and once overcome, it is difficult indeed to erect it +again. Not sweeter to the industrious is the bread of their labour than +to the idle and dissolute the loaf unearned, and the free gift of tobacco +to be smoked at ease in working hours. It is terribly hard to struggle +out of a slough of laziness in which a man has lain for a length of time, +with nothing to do but open his mouth and permit other people to feed +him. It is extremely unlikely that such a man would make the struggle +while there remained but half a chance of his maintaining his comfortable +position. Having grown so far used to the contamination of mire, he +would be more likely to struggle a little deeper into it, if he saw what +he deemed his advantage in doing so, and by swift degrees he would +speedily be engulfed in that hopeless bog of confirmed beggary from which +there is no return save those of the prison statician. + + + +CHAPTER XV. +GENTEEL ADVERTISING BEGGARS. + + +_The Newspaper Plan and the delicate Process_—_Forms of Petition_—_Novel +Applications of Photography_—_Personal Attractions of the +Distressed_—_Help_, _or I perish_! + +BESIDES those I have enumerated, there are at least two other specimens +of the beggar tribe that deserve mention. They are genteel impostors +both. One avails himself of the advertising columns of the newspaper to +apprise the benevolent of his modest desires, while the other prefers the +more private and delicate process insured by our modern postal system. +Both affect the “reduced gentleman,” and display in their appeals an +amount of artlessness and simple confidence in the charity of their +fellow-creatures that tells unmistakably of their ample possession of +that Christian virtue, while at the same time it conveys to the reader an +idea of the select and highly-exclusive position they should properly +occupy, and from which they have so disastrously descended. It is +evident at a glance that they know nothing of the rough-and-ready ways of +the world, or of its close-fistedness or proneness to suspicion. We know +this, and pity them; otherwise we might be inclined to class them with +those “cheeky” ones in whose praise the young gentleman before mentioned, +of “shallow” extraction, was so hearty, and to treat their impudent +attempts as they deserve. But the touching simplicity of the unfortunate +creatures at once disarms us of suspicion. For instance, who could +refrain from immediately responding to the subjoined “petition,” which is +copied strictly from the original? It was delivered through the post, +and was attached as a fly-leaf to a card on which was affixed the +portraits of six young children, each of whom had evidently been “got up” +with extreme care, as regards hair-curling and arrangements of dress and +ribbons, for the photographic process. + + “_Children to save_.—Advertisement sent to a few taken from the + London Directory. The father of these British-born Protestant + children is an elderly gentleman, ruined by competition in business, + and past beginning life again; and the mother is in a very precarious + state of health. To seek for adopters is against parental instinct; + and besides it might ultimately come to that, as by the time their + schooling is over, in ten or fifteen years, they would most likely be + orphans, and their willing adopters would be quite welcome to it + (_sic_). At present the father, in his alarm for the fate of these + creatures, seeks for some that would pay, not to the father, but to + good boarding-schools, for their clothing, keeping, and tuition, and + after school-time to see that they should not want. Willing + benefactors are therefore requested to state what they would feel + inclined to do for each child, by one of the numbers given at foot, + to ‘Alphabet, till called for, at the Post-office, No. 1 + Liverpool-street, Moorfields, E.C.,’ enclosing card or addressed + envelope to insure correct address, if a reply should be wished.” + +Another method of applying the photographic art to the bolstering-up of a +spurious begging petition takes a form even more outrageous than that +which was adopted to exhibit the personal attractions of the distressed +six British-born Protestant children. In the second case it is the +portrait of a handsome young lady, aged about twenty, with a profusion of +lovely hair, and an expression of countenance strikingly artless and +captivating. Accompanying the portrait was a note, as follows: + + “Dear Sir,—I am sure, when you learn the cause, that you will pardon + the liberty I take in addressing myself to you. I am impelled to do + so, not only on account of your known humanity, but because I have + seen you and read in your face that you will not turn a deaf ear to + an appeal frankly and trustingly made to you. The fact is, my dear + sir, I am absolutely in want of a sixpence to procure a meal. I am + the only child of a father whom _misfortune_ has reduced to a + condition of abject beggary. Mother I have none. One day I may have + an opportunity of narrating to you the peculiar causes of our present + embarrassment. I should feel it incumbent on me to do so, were I so + fortunate as to make you our creditor for a small sum. Pray spare me + the pain of detailing more minutely the purport of this letter. I am + aware of the boldness of the step I am taking, but the misery of my + wretched father must plead for me in excuse. I enclose my likeness + (taken, alas, in happier times, though scarcely six months since), so + that you may see that I am not a _common beggar_. Should my appeal + move your compassion towards me, will you kindly send a note + addressed, Adelaide F. T., Post-office, —?” + +The gentleman to whom the above artful concoction was addressed is well +known for his philanthropy, and his name appears frequently in the +newspapers. He is an elderly gentleman, and has grown-up sons and +daughters, consequently he was not a likely person to be trapped by the +lovely Adelaide, who would “feel it incumbent on her to seek out and +personally thank her benefactor,” in the event of his forwarding to her a +pound or so. But it might have been different, if, instead of a +plain-sailing shrewd man of the world, he had been a person afflicted +with vanity. Here was this poor young handsome creature, who had seen +him and read in his face that which induced her to make to him such a +pitiful avowal of her poverty—her _peculiar_ poverty! Why, the story of +the “peculiar cause” that led to the sudden downfall of such a family +must be worth a pound to listen to! Was it justifiable to dishonour the +promise his face had assured to the poor young woman? These or similar +reflections might have betrayed the better judgment of a less experienced +person than Mr. L—. As it was, the artful note served but to ponder over +as one of the latest curiosities in the begging-letter line; while as for +the portrait, it furnished ample food for moralising on how marvellously +deceptive appearances were—especially female appearances. + +And if this were the end of the story, the good reader, with all his +honest British inclination for giving the accused the benefit of a doubt, +might be tempted to exclaim, “And, after all, who knows but that the +appeal to this known philanthropist might have been genuine? To be sure, +the shape it assumed was one that might well excite the suspicion of an +individual alive to the surpassing cleverness and cunning of begging +impostors; but at the same time there was sufficient of probability in +the application to protect it from the stigma of impudent fraud.” Such +readers will be glad to hear that all doubts on the matter were set at +rest, and in the following singular, and for one party concerned somewhat +unpleasant, manner. The portrait in question fell into the hands of a +relative of Mr. L—, a gentleman with a hard heart for begging impostors, +and sturdy resolution to put them down and punish them whenever he +encountered them. He was particularly set against mendicants of the +genteel class, and was very severe in his strictures on the abominable +cheat attempted by “Adelaide F. T.” One afternoon, while walking along +Oxford-street, lo, the original of the pictured culprit appeared before +him, artlessly and innocently gazing into a linendraper’s window, and +accompanied by another lady. The resemblance between the first lady and +the photograph was so striking as to place her identity beyond a doubt; +yet in order to make _quite_ sure, our friend withdrew the latter from +his pocketbook, and covertly compared it with the original. It was as +certain as that he had eyes in his head. There was the hair of golden +hue massed behind and raised from the temples; there was the straight +nose, the small winning mouth, and the delicately-rounded chin. The +stern exposer of imposture, however, was not to be moved to mercy by a +pretty face; his course of duty was plain before him, and stepping up to +the lady, he addressed with undisguised severity, “Miss Adelaide T., I +believe?” “You are mistaken, sir.” “Not at all, madam; a friend of mine +was lately favoured with a letter from you enclosing your likeness.” It +was scarcely to be wondered at, that an expression of terror took +possession of the lady’s face, though it was misinterpreted by the +gentleman. Thinking that she was addressed by a drunken man or a maniac, +the lady prudently retreated into the shop the window of which she had +been regarding. More than ever convinced that he was not mistaken, L—’s +friend followed her; and goodness knows what serious consequences might +have ensued, had not the lady been a known customer of the draper as the +daughter of a gentleman of wealth and station. This, of course, led to +an explanation, and to the most earnest and humble apologies on the part +of the pursuer of imposture. The photograph was produced, and +undoubtedly it was a likeness of the lady. How it had got into the hands +of the designing “Adelaide F. T.” no one could tell, but doubtless it was +selected on account of its beauty and prepossessing artlessness. An +endeavour was made to secure the cheats; but from some cause or another +they took alarm, and the decoy letter, addressed “Post-office —,” +remained there until it was returned through the Dead-letter Office. + +By the bye, the idea of begging “not for myself, but for another,” is a +dodge not confined to the epistolary impostor. In the neighbourhood in +which I reside, some little time since there made her appearance a very +fine specimen of disinterested generosity of the kind in question: a +little old lady dressed in black, with kid-gloves on her hands, and a +cloak soberly trimmed with black crape. She knocked the knock of a +person used to the genteel fingering of a knocker, and might she be +permitted to speak with the lady of the house? It happened that, at that +moment, the gentleman of the house was going out, and he, hearing the +application, suggested that possibly he might do as well. Undoubtedly, +though it was a trivial matter with which to occupy the attention of a +gentleman. The simple fact was, that the little old lady was bound on a +mission of charity for a poor soul recently left destitute with nine +small children: her aim being the purchase of a mangle and a few +washing-tubs, that the widow might earn an honourable livelihood for her +numerous brood. “I am too poor to supply her with _all_ the money out of +my own slender little purse,” said the old lady, “but I have plenty of +leisure, and I think that you will agree with me, sir, it cannot be +employed more worthily. I do not ask for any large sum on the poor +creature’s behalf; I only ask one single penny. I will not take more +than a penny. I put the pence in this little bag, you see, and by +perseverance I trust that I shall soon accomplish my aim.” As the little +old lady spoke, she cheerfully produced from the folds of her cloak a +stout linen bag heavy with copper money, and containing, I should say, at +least twelve shillings. The little old lady’s manner was plausible and +smooth, and well calculated to impose on the “lady of the house” nine +times out of ten. But unfortunately for her it had been my lot to make +the acquaintance of many strange little old ladies as well as of +gentlemen, and I had my suspicions. I closed the outer door and +confronted her on the mat. “I beg your pardon, but have we not met +before?” I asked her. She looked up suddenly and sharply, with no little +alarm on her wizened old face. “I—I think not, sir,” she faltered. “Do +you happen to know a gentleman named Horsford?” was my next inquiry. The +little old lady looked still more embarrassed. “I did not come here to +discuss my own affairs, sir,” said she with a sorry affectation of +indignation, “nor to answer questions that bear no relation to my +charitable object. I wish you a good-morning, sir!” And with that she +opened the door, and let herself out; and descending the steps quickly, +trotted up the street with guilty speed, and turned the corner, and was +out of sight before I could make up my mind what to do with her. + +Of advertising beggars there is a large variety. A great many of them +breathe a pious spirit, or rather gasp;—for it is seldom that these +distressed ones muster courage to cry out until they have endured their +distress even to death’s-door. Not unfrequently the headings or +“catch-lines” of these printed appeals are culled from the Bible. Here +is one, for example: + + “‘HELP, OR I PERISH!’—The advertiser (in his sixty-seventh birthday) + was once blessed with a handsome fortune. Drink—he confesses it—has + been the cause of his ruin. He still drinks; not now for pleasure + and in luxury, but to benumb the gnawing of an aroused conscience. + Unless this horrid propensity is checked, the advertiser feels that + he must perish body and soul! Who will save him? He has two sons in + Canada, who are striving men and total abstainers, and who would + receive him with open arms, could he but raise money enough to + purchase some poor outfit, and to pay for the voyage.—Address, X., + Prescott-street, Whitechapel.” + +One cannot help reflecting, that, before contributing towards a fund to +assist the emigration of the aged toper—who appears only to have awoke to +a sense of his abasement now that he is stinted of his gin—he would like +to have the opinion of those striving men, his sons, the total abstainers +in Canada. Possibly they would prefer to honour him at a distance. +According to the ingenious old gentleman’s own showing, he only regards +his sons as possible props to keep him out of a drunkard’s grave; and if, +fettered under the weight imposed on them, they sank with their father +into the same dishonourable sepulchre, it would turn out to be money +decidedly ill invested. All this, supposing the appeal to be genuine, +which in all probability it is not. Were it investigated, the only +truthful hit in the appeal would very likely he found to consist in the +three words, “he still drinks.” + +Here is another of more recent date, in the emigration line: + + “A lady has an opportunity of going to America, where she could + obtain a good situation as governess, but has not the means of + procuring an outfit. She would be very thankful to anyone who would + lend her 10_l._, which she would promise to return with interest at + the end of the year.” + +This is cool, but almost feverish compared with the annexed: + + “‘MONEY WITHOUT SECURITY!’—Doubtless these mocking words have struck + many readers besides the advertiser. In his desperate situation he + has often put to himself the question, Is there to be found in this + cruel world a good Samaritan who would confer on a fellow-creature a + boon so precious? Is there one who, blessed with means, can find + delight in raising from the slough of despond a poor wretch stranded + on the bank of the black river of despair? Is there one who will + account it cheap by _lending_ ten pounds, for three months, at + twenty-five per cent interest, to elevate to manly altitude a human + creature who, for want of such a sum, is groaning in the dust? If + so, let him send a Beam of Sunshine to G. S. R., No. 17 Model Lodging + Houses, —.” + +One cannot but ask the question, is G. S. R. a madman, or simply an +idiot, who can regard it as a “joke” to waste five shillings for the +privilege of seeing so many lines of empty rubbish in print? Or, again, +are there really any grounds of five shillingsworth for supposing that +amongst the fifty thousand readers of a daily newspaper one may be met +with silly or eccentric or whimsical enough to entertain G. S. R.’s +proposition? It is hard to believe in such a possibility. Still, there +_are_ strange people in the world; every day furnishes evidence of this +fact. Not more than a month ago it came to light that an old lady +residing at Clapham has for years past been in the habit of paying an +organ-grinder thirty shillings a-week—a half-sovereign on the evening of +every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday—to come and play for half-an-hour +under her window. Supposing a rupture between the lady and her musician, +and she had put an advertisement in the _Times_—“A lady, a resident in a +quiet suburb, is desirous of engaging with an organ-grinder. Terms of +service, three half-hours per week, 75_l._ a-year”—who would have +regarded it but as a silly joke? + +Here is another begging advertisement of the simple and affecting type: + + “A WIDOW’S ONLY COMFORT.—The advertiser begs the kind assistance of + the kind-hearted and benevolent to rescue her pianoforte from the + hands of the broker. It is but a poor old affair (valued only at + 12_l._), but it has been her only consolation and solace since the + death of a darling only daughter, whose instrument it was, and it + would break her heart to part with it. Its music and her prayers + should combine to thank any one who was generous enough to restore it + to her. Address — Colebrook-row.” + +One more instance, and we will have done with the advertising beggar: + + “TO THE AGED AND UNPROTECTED.—A young man, aged twenty-two, + well-built, good-looking, and of a frank and affectionate + disposition, is desirous of acting the part of a son towards any aged + person or persons who would regard his companionship and constant + devotion as an equivalent for his maintenance and clothes and support + generally. The parents of the advertiser are both dead, and he has + not a relative in the wide world. Affluence is not aimed at, no more + than that degree of comfort that moderate means insure. Address, O. + D., —.” + +Although it is difficult without a struggle to feel an interest in this +young gentleman’s welfare, we cannot help feeling curious to know what +success his advertisement brought him. Is he still a forlorn orphan, +wasting his many virtues and manly attributes on a world that to him is a +wilderness; or has he happily succeeded in captivating “some aged person +or persons,” and is he at the present time acting the part of a son +towards them, and growing sleek and fat “on that degree of comfort that +moderate means insure”? Were his initials J. D. instead of O. D., we +might imagine that it was our ancient friend Jeremiah Diddler turned up +once more. O. D. stand for Old Diddler, but Jeremiah the ancient must be +aged considerably more than twenty-two. We may rest assured, however, +that the advertiser is an offshoot of that venerable family. + + + + +IV.—Fallen Women. + + +CHAPTER XVI. +THIS CURSE. + + +_The Difficulty in handling it_—_The Question of its Recognition_—_The +Argyll Rooms_—_Mr. Acton’s visit there_—_The Women and their +Patrons_—_The Floating Population of Windmill-street_—_Cremorne Gardens +in the Season_. + +THE only explanation that can be offered to the supersensitive reader, +who will doubtless experience a shock of alarm at discovering this page’s +heading, is, that it would be simply impossible to treat with any +pretension to completeness of the curses of London without including it. + +Doubtless it is a curse, the mere mention of which, let alone its +investigation, the delicate-minded naturally shrinks from. But it is a +matter for congratulation, perhaps, that we are not all so +delicate-minded. Cowardice is not unfrequently mistaken for daintiness +of nature. It is so with the subject in question. It is not a pleasant +subject—very far from it; but that is not a sufficient excuse for letting +it alone. We should never forget that it is our distaste for meddling +with unsavoury business that does not immediately and personally concern +us, that is the evil-doers’ armour of impunity. The monstrous evil in +question has grown to its present dimensions chiefly because we have +silently borne with it and let it grow up in all its lusty rankness under +our noses; and rather than pluck it up by the roots, rather than +acknowledge its existence even, have turned away our heads and inclined +our eyes skyward, and thanked God for the many mercies conferred on us. + +And here the writer hastens to confess, not without a tingling sense of +cowardice too, perhaps, that it is not his intention to expose this +terrible canker that preys on the heart and vitals of society in all its +plain and bare repulsiveness. Undoubtedly it is better at all times to +conceal from the public gaze as much as may be safely hid of the blotches +and plague-spots that afflict the social body; but if to hide them, and +cast white cloths over them, and sprinkle them with rose-water answers no +other purpose (beyond conciliating the squeamish) than to encourage +festering and decay, why then it becomes a pity that the whole foul +matter may not be brought fairly to board, to be dealt with according to +the best of our sanitary knowledge. + +The saving, as well as the chastening, hand of the law should be held out +to the countless host that constitute what is acknowledged as +emphatically _the_ social evil. It has been urged, that “to take this +species of vice under legal regulation is to give it, in the public eye, +a species of legal sanction.” Ministers from the pulpit have preached +that “it can never be right to regulate what it is wrong to do and wrong +to tolerate. To license immorality is to protect and encourage it. +Individuals and houses which have a place on the public registers +naturally regard themselves, and are regarded by others, as being under +the law’s guardianship and authority,—not, as they ought to be, under its +ban and repression.” + +Against this grim and essentially unchristian doctrine, let us set the +argument of a learned and brilliant writer, who some years since was +courageous enough to shed a little wholesome light on this ugly subject, +from the pages of a popular magazine. + + “It is urged that the ‘tacit sanction’ given to vice, by such a + _recognition_ of prostitution as would be involved in a system of + supervision, registration, or license, would be a greater evil than + all the maladies (moral and physical) which now flow from its + unchecked prevalence. But let it be considered that by ignoring we + do not abolish it, we do not even conceal it; it speaks aloud; it + walks abroad; it is a vice as patent and as well-known as + drunkenness; it is already ‘tacitly sanctioned’ by the mere fact of + its permitted, or connived-at, existence; by the very circumstance + which stares us in the face, that the legislative and executive + authorities, seeing it, deploring it, yet confess by their inaction + their inability to check it, and their unwillingness to prohibit it, + and virtually say to the unfortunate prostitutes and their + frequenters, ‘As long as you create no public scandal, but throw a + decent veil over your proceedings, we shall not interfere with you, + but shall regard you as an inevitable evil.’ By an attempt to + regulate and control them, the authorities would confess nothing more + than they already in act acknowledge, viz. their desire to mitigate + an evil which they have discovered their incompetency to suppress. + By prohibiting the practice of prostitution _under certain + conditions_, they do not legalise or authorise it under all other + conditions; they simply announce that, _under these certain + conditions_, they feel called upon promptly to interfere. The + legislature does not forbid drunkenness, knowing that it would be + futile to do so: but if a man, when drunk, is disorderly, pugnacious, + or indecent, or in other mode compromises public comfort or public + morals, it steps forward to arrest and punish him; yet surely by no + fair use of words can it be represented as thereby sanctioning + drunkenness when unaccompanied by indecorous or riotous behaviour, + for it merely declares that in the one case interference falls within + its functions, and that in the other case it does not.” + +No living writer, however, _dare_ bring the subject before the public as +it should be brought. A penman bolder than his brethren has but to raise +the curtain that conceals the thousand-and-one abominations that find +growth in this magnificent city of ours, but an inch higher than +“decorum” permits, than the eyes of outraged modesty immediately take +refuge behind her pocket-handkerchief, and society at large is aghast at +the man’s audacity, not to say “indecency.” Warned by the fate of such +daring ones, therefore, it shall be the writer’s care to avoid all +startling revelations, and the painting of pictures in their real +colours, and to confine himself to plain black-and-white inoffensive +enumerations and descriptions, placing the plain facts and figures before +the reader, that he may deal with them according to his conscience. + +It should incline us to a merciful consideration of the fallen-woman when +we reflect on the monotony of misery her existence is. She is to herself +vile, and she has no other resource but to flee to the gin-measure, and +therein hide herself from herself. She has no pleasure even. Never was +there made a grimmer joke than that which designates her life a short and +_merry_ one. True, she is found at places where amusement and wild +reckless gaiety is sought; but does she ever appear amused, or, while she +remains sober, recklessly gay? I am not now alluding to the low +prostitute, the conscienceless wretch who wallows in vice and mire and +strong liquor in a back street of Shadwell, but to the woman of some +breeding and delicacy, the “well-dressed” creature, in fact, who does not +habitually “walk the streets,” but betakes herself to places of popular +resort for persons of a “fast” turn, and who have money, and are desirous +of expending some of it in “seeing life.” Such a woman would be a +frequent visitant at the Argyll Rooms, for instance; let us turn to Mr. +Acton, and see how vastly she enjoys herself there. + + “The most striking thing to me about the place was an upper gallery + fringed with this sort of company. A sprinkling of each class seemed + to be there by assignation, and with no idea of seeking + acquaintances. A number of both sexes, again, were evidently + visitors for distraction’s sake alone; the rest were to all intents + and purposes in quest of intrigues. + + “The utter indifference of the stylish loungers in these shambles + contrasted painfully with the anxious countenances of the many + unnoticed women whom the improved manners of the time by no means + permit to make advances. I noticed some very sad eyes, that gave the + lie to laughing lips, as they wandered round in search of some + familiar face in hope of friendly greeting. There was the sly + triumph of here and there a vixenish hoyden with her leash of patrons + about her, and the same envy, hatred, and malice of the neglected + ‘has-been’ that some have thought they saw in everyday society. The + glory of the ascendant harlot was no plainer than the discomfiture of + her sister out of luck, whom want of elbow-room and excitement threw + back upon her vacant self. The affectation of reserve and gentility + that pervaded the pens of that upper region seemed to me but to lay + more bare the skeleton; and I thought, as I circulated among the + promiscuous herd to groundlings, that the sixpenny balcony would + better serve to point a moral than the somewhat more natural, and at + all events far more hilarious, throng about me. As far as regarded + public order, it seemed an admirable arrangement; to the proprietor + of the rooms, profitable; of most of its cribbed and cabined + occupants, a voluntary martyrdom; in all of them, in making more + plain their folly and misfortunes, a mistake. + + “The great mass of the general company were on that occasion + males—young, middle-aged, and old, married and single, of every shade + of rank and respectability; and of these again the majority seemed to + have no other aim than to kill an hour or two in philosophising, + staring at one another and the women about them, and listening to + good music, without a thought of dancing or intention of ultimate + dissipation. A few had come with companions of our sex to dance, and + many had paid their shillings on speculation only. Some pretty + grisettes had been brought by their lovers to be seen and to see; and + once or twice I thought I saw ‘a sunbeam that had lost its way,’ + where a modest young girl was being paraded by a foolish swain, or + indoctrinated into the charms of town by a designing scamp. There + were plenty of dancers, and the casual polka was often enough, by + mutual consent, the beginning and end of the acquaintance. There was + little appearance of refreshment or solicitation, and none whatever + of ill-behaviour or drunkenness. It was clear that two rills of + population had met in Windmill-street—one idle and vicious by + profession or inclination, the other idle for a few hours on + compulsion. Between them there was little amalgamation. A few dozen + couples of the former, had there been no casino, would have concocted + their amours in the thoroughfares; the crowd who formed the other + seemed to seek the place with no definite views beyond light music + and shelter. Many, whose thorough British gravity was proof against + more than all the meretriciousness of the assembly, would, I fancy, + have been there had it been confined to males only. I am convinced + they were open to neither flirtation nor temptation, and I know + enough of my countryman’s general taste to affirm that they ran + little hazard of the latter.” + +Again, Cremorne Gardens “in the season” would seem a likely place to seek +the siren devoted to a life mirthful though brief. Let us again +accompany Mr. Acton. + + “As calico and merry respectability tailed off eastward by penny + steamers, the setting sun brought westward hansoms freighted with + demure immorality in silk and fine linen. By about ten o’clock age + and innocence—of whom there had been much in the place that day—had + retired, weary of amusement, leaving the massive elms, the + grass-plots, and the geranium-beds, the kiosks, temples, ‘monster + platforms,’ and ‘crystal circle’ of Cremorne to flicker in the + thousand gaslights there for the gratification of the dancing public + only. On and around that platform waltzed, strolled, and fed some + thousand souls, perhaps seven hundred of them men of the upper and + middle class, the remainder prostitutes more or less _prononcées_. I + suppose that a hundred couples—partly old acquaintances, part + improvised—were engaged in dancing and other amusements, and the rest + of the society, myself included, circulated listlessly about the + garden, and enjoyed in a grim kind of way the ‘selection’ from some + favourite opera and the cool night breeze from the river. + + “The extent of disillusion he has purchased in this world comes + forcibly home to the middle-aged man who in such a scene attempts to + fathom former faith and ancient joys, and perhaps even vainly to + fancy he might by some possibility begin again. I saw scores, nay + hundreds, about me in the same position as myself. We were there, + and some of us, I feel sure, hardly knew why; but being there, and it + being obviously impossible to enjoy the place after the manner of + youth, it was necessary, I suppose, to chew the cud of sweet and + bitter fancies; and then so little pleasure came, that the Britannic + solidity waxed solider than ever even in a garden full of music and + dancing, and so an almost mute procession, not of joyous revellers, + but thoughtful careworn men and women, paced round and round the + platform as on a horizontal treadmill. There was now and then a bare + recognition between passers-by: they seemed to touch and go like ants + in the hurry of business. I do not imagine for a moment they could + have been aware that a self-appointed inspector was among them; but, + had they known it never so well, the intercourse of the sexes could + hardly have been more reserved—_as a general rule_, be it always + understood. For my part I was occupied, when the first chill of + change was shaken off, in quest of noise, disorder, debauchery, and + bad manners. Hopeless task! The picnic at Burnham Beeches, that + showed no more life and merriment than Cremorne on the night and time + above mentioned, would be a failure indeed, unless the company were + antiquarians or undertakers. A jolly burst of laughter now and then + came bounding through the crowd that fringed the dancing-floor and + roved about the adjacent sheds in search of company; but that gone + by, you heard very plainly the sigh of the poplar, the surging gossip + of the tulip-tree, and the plash of the little embowered fountain + that served two plaster children for an endless shower-bath. The + function of the very band appeared to be to drown not noise, but + stillness.” + + + +CHAPTER XVII. +THE PLAIN FACTS AND FIGURES OF PROSTITUTION. + + +_Statistics of Westminster_, _Brompton_, _and Pimlico_—_Methods of +conducting the nefarious Business_—_Aristocratic Dens_—_The High +Tariff_—_The Horrors of the Social Evil_—_The Broken Bridge behind the +Sinner_—“_Dress Lodgers_”—_There’s always a_ “_Watcher_”—_Soldiers and +Sailors_—_The_ “_Wrens of the Curragh_.” + +LET US in the first place consider the extent to which the terrible +malady in question afflicts us. I am not aware if more recent returns +have been made than those I have at hand. Were it possible to obtain +exact statistics of this as of almost every other branch of social +economy, I should have been at the trouble of inquiring for them further +than I have; but I find that the calculations made differ so widely one +from the other, and are, as a whole, so irreconcilable with probability, +that it will be better to take an authentic return, albeit ten years old, +and make allowance for time since. The Metropolitan-Police authorities +are responsible for the accompanying figures. + +It appears that at the date above indicated there were within the +Metropolitan-Police district the enormous number of 8600 prostitutes, and +they were distributed as follows: + + Brothels. Prostitutes. +Within the districts of Westminster, 153 524 +Brompton, and Pimlico, there are +St. James, Regent-street, Soho, 152 318 +Leicester-square +Marylebone, Paddington, St. 139 526 +John’s-wood +Oxford-street, Portland-place, 194 546 +New-road, Gray’s-inn-lane +Covent-garden, Drury-lane, St. Giles’s 45 480 +Clerkenwell, Pentonville, City-road, 152 349 +Shoreditch +Spitalfields, Houndsditch, 471 1803 +Whitechapel, Ratcliff +Bethnal-green, Mile-end, Shadwell to 419 965 +Blackwall +Lambeth, Blackfriars, Waterloo-road 377 802 +Southwark, Bermondsey, Rotherhithe 178 667 +Islington, Hackney, Homerton 185 445 +Camberwell, Walworth, Peckham 65 228 +Deptford and Greenwich 148 401 +Kilburn, Portland, Kentish, and Camden 88 231 +Towns +Kensington, Hammersmith, Fulham 12 106 +Walham-green, Chelsea, Cremorne 47 209 + +Without entering into repulsive detail, I will endeavour to give the +reader some idea of the different methods under which the nefarious +business is conducted. The “houses of ill-fame” differ as widely in the +extent and quality of their dealings as the houses of honesty and fair +commerce. There are houses of “ill-fame” in the most fashionable +quarters of the town, just as there are in Wapping—houses that are let +and sub-let until they reach a rental as high as three and four hundred +pounds a-year. It is not in those aristocratic dens of infamy, however, +that women suffer most; none but the most costly wares are on sale at +such establishments, and it is to the interest of the hucksters who +traffic in them to deal with them delicately as circumstances will +permit, to humour and coax and caress them as pet animals are coaxed and +humoured. Nor would the creatures themselves tolerate anything in the +shape of brutal treatment at the hands of those who harbour them. They +“know their value,” and as a rule are exacting, imperious, and insolent +towards their “landlords.” Unlike their sister unfortunates lower sunk +in iniquity, they would experience no difficulty in procuring new +“lodgings.” The doors of a hundred establishments such as that she now +honours with residence are open to her. With a handsome face and a full +purse, the whole of the devilish crew of brothel-keepers are her slaves, +her fawning, cringing slaves, ready to lick the dust from her shoes, so +that she pays regularly her rent of ten guineas a-week, and fails not to +induce her “friends” to drink champagne at a guinea a bottle. + +Possibly the gay lady may come to the “bitter end” some day, but at +present, except from the moral point of view, she is not an object for +commiseration. She at least has all that she deliberately bargains +for—fine clothes, rich food, plenty of money, a carriage to ride in, the +slave-like obedience of her “inferiors,” and the fulsome adulation of +those who deal with her for her worth. Very often (though under the +circumstances it is doubtful if from any aspect this is an advantage) she +finds a fool with money who is willing to marry her; but whether she is +content to accept the decent change, and to abide by it, of course +depends on her nature. Whether her husband adheres to his rash bargain +is a question that time only can solve. He at least, if he be a vicious +man as well as a fool, may argue that she will be little the worse than +when he found her if he leaves her; while possibly she may gather +consolation from the same method of argument. + +Anyway, she has a long way to descend before she may be branded as +“common.” At present she is not even included in the police-returns. +Any blue-coated guardian of the peace, in humble hope of earning a +sixpence, would be only too eager to touch his hat to her and open her +carriage-door to-morrow, and that even at the door of her genteel +residence, which is in a neighbourhood much too respectable to permit it +to be stigmatised as a “brothel.” + +The police-report just quoted specifies that the 8600 prostitutes +infesting the metropolis include 921 well-dressed and living in houses of +ill-fame. This on the face of it, however, is significant of how very +little the police really know of the matter they venture to report on. +The women here alluded to are of the unobtrusive and orderly sort, the +mainstay of whose occupation is to pass as respectable persons. They +would be the last to resort for permanent lodging at houses whose fame +was so ill that the greenest policeman on beat could point them out. It +is altogether too hard to fasten the imputation of infamous on the +holders of the houses in which this class of unfortunate seeks lodging. +In very many cases the women are actuated by a twofold reason in gaining +admission to the house of a householder who does not suspect her real +character. In the first place, and as already stated, she wishes to pass +in the immediate neighbourhood as respectable; and in the next place she +not unnaturally seeks to evade payment of the monstrously high rate of +rent that the common brothel-keeper would impose on her. Moreover, the +peculiar branch of the terrible business she essays prospers under such +management, where it would not if it were otherwise conducted. As a +body, the women in question must be regarded as human creatures who have +not gone _altogether_ to the bad; and though in grim truth it may be in +the highest degree absurd for anyone to cast herself deliberately into a +sea of abomination, and then to affect a mincing manner of seriousness, +much allowance should be made for the possibility that the fatal leap was +not taken with cool forethought, or that the urging to it was due to some +devilish genius whom there was no resisting. Anyhow, it would be hard on +them, poor wretches, to compel them to give up their endeavours to +conceal their degradation if, apart from mercenary motives, they are +heartily desirous of concealing it. + + “A vast proportion of those who, after passing through the career of + kept mistresses, ultimately come upon the town, fall in the first + instance from a mere exaggeration and perversion of one of the best + qualities of a woman’s heart. They yield to desires in which they do + not share, from a weak generosity which cannot refuse anything to the + passionate entreaties of the man they love. There is in the warm + fond heart of woman a strange and sublime unselfishness, which men + too commonly discover only to profit by,—a positive love of + self-sacrifice, an active, so to speak, an _aggressive_ desire to + show their affection by giving up to those who have won it something + they hold very dear. It is an unreasoning and dangerous yearning of + the spirit, precisely analogous to that which prompts the surrenders + and self-tortures of the religious devotee. Both seek to prove their + devotion to the idol they have enshrined, by casting down before his + altar their richest and most cherished treasures. This is no + romantic or over-coloured picture; those who deem it so have not + known the better portion of the sex, or do not deserve to have known + them.” + +It would soften the hearts of many, and hold the hands of those who would +break down the bridge behind the sinner, could they know the awful misery +that frequently attends the life of a fallen woman. The 921 questionably +quoted as “well dressed, and living in houses of ill-fame,” do not at all +represent the horrors of the social evil in all its ghastly integrity. +Such women are at least free to a certain extent to act as they please. +No restriction is set on their movements; they may remain at home or go +abroad, dress as they please, and expend their miserable gains according +to their fancy. But they have sisters in misfortune to whom the smallest +of these privileges is denied. They are to be found amongst the unhappy +2216 who are described as “well dressed, and walking the streets.” +Unlike the gay lady, who makes her downynest in the topmost branches of +the deadly upas-tree, and is altogether above suspicion or vulgar +reproach, this poor wretch is without a single possession in the wide +world. She is but one of a thousand walking the streets of London, the +most cruelly used and oppressed of all the great family to which they own +relationship. They are bound hand and foot to the harpies who are their +keepers. They are infinitely worse off than the female slaves on a +nigger-plantation, for they at least may claim as their own the rags they +wear, as well as a share of the miserable hut common to the gang after +working-hours. But these slaves of the London pavement may boast of +neither soul nor body, nor the gaudy skirts and laces and ribbons with +which they are festooned. They belong utterly and entirely to the devil +in human shape who owns the den that the wretched harlot learns to call +her “home.” You would never dream of the deplorable depth of her +destitution, if you met her in her gay attire. Splendid from her +tasselled boots to the full-blown and flowery hat or bonnet that crowns +her guilty head, she is absolutely poorer than the meanest beggar that +ever whined for a crust. + +These women are known as “dress lodgers.” They are poor wretches who +somehow or another are reduced to the lowest depths of destitution. +Sometimes illness is the cause. Sometimes, if a girl gets into a bad +house, and is as yet too new to the horrible business to conform without +remonstrance to the scandalous extortions practised by the +brothel-keeper, she is “broken down and brought to it” by design and +scheming. A girl not long since confided to a clergyman friend of mine +the following shocking story. Rendered desperate by the threats of the +wretch who owned her, she applied to him for advice. “I was bad enough +before, I don’t deny it; but I wasn’t a thief. I hadn’t been used to +their ways for more than a month, and had a good box of clothes and a +silver watch and gold chain, when I went to lodge there, and it was all +very well while I spent my money like a fool, bought gin, and treated ’em +all round; but when I wouldn’t stand it any longer, and told her (the +brothel-keeper) plain that I would pay her the rent and no more (nine +shillings a-week for a small back room), she swore that she’d break me +down, and ‘bring me to her weight.’ I didn’t know that at the time; I +didn’t hear of it till afterwards. She was fair enough to my face, and +begged me not to leave her, flattering me, and telling me she would be +ruined when her customers found out that the prettiest woman had left +her. That’s how she quieted me, till one day, when I came home, she +accused me of robbing a gentleman the night before of a diamond +shirt-pin, and there was a fellow there who said he was a ‘detective,’ +and though my box was locked he had opened it before I came home, and +swore that he had found the pin, which he showed me. It was all a lie. +I had been with a gentleman the night before, but he wore a scarf with a +ring to it; that I could swear to. But it was no use saying anything; I +was the thief, they said, and I was to be taken into custody. What was I +to do? I begged of the detective not to take me; I implored Mother H— to +intercede for me, and she pretended to. She went into another room with +the detective, and then she came back and told me that the man would take +ten pounds down to hush it up. I’ve seen that man since; he is a ‘bully’ +at a bad house in the Waterloo-road, but I truly believed that he was a +private-clothes policeman, as he said he was. Of course I didn’t have +ten pounds, nor ten shillings hardly; but Mother H— said that she would +lend the money ‘on security;’ and I made over to her—sold to her, in +fact—in writing, every scrap of clothes that I had in my box and on my +back. ‘Let’s have them too, Meg,’ Mother H— said, ‘and then you’re safe +not to run away.’ I made over to her the box as well, and my watch, and +gave her an I O U besides for five pounds, and then she ‘squared’ it with +the detective, and he went off. + +“That’s how I came to be a ‘dress lodger.’ She didn’t wait long before +she opened her mind to me. She up and told me that very night: ‘You’ve +got a new landlady now, my fine madam,’ said she; ‘you’ve got to _work_ +for your living now; to work for _me_, d’ye understand? You can’t +work—can’t earn a penny without you dress spicy, and every rag you’ve got +on is _mine_; and if you say one wry word, I’ll have ’em off and bundle +you out.’ So what could I do or say?” continued the poor wretch, tears +streaming down her really handsome face; “all the girls there were ‘dress +lodgers,’ and I believe that they were glad to see me brought to their +level. They only laughed to hear Mother H— go on so. I’ve been a ‘dress +lodger’ ever since, not being able to get a shilling for myself, for she +takes away all I get, and besides is always threatening to strip me and +turn me out, and to sue me for the five pounds I owe her.” + +My informant asked her, “How does she exercise this amount of control +over you? She is not always with you; you leave her house to walk the +streets, I suppose?” + +“So I do, but not alone. Dress lodgers are never allowed to do that, +sir. I haven’t been one long, but long enough to find that out. There’s +always a ‘watcher.’ Sometimes it’s a woman—an old woman, who isn’t fit +for anything else—but in general it’s a man. He watches you always, +walking behind you, or on the opposite side of the way. He never loses +sight of you, never fear. You daren’t so much as go into a public for a +drain of gin but he is in after you in a minute, and must have his glass +too, though he isn’t allowed to do it—to have the gin, I mean; and _you_ +ain’t allowed it either, not a drop, if the old woman knows it. You’re +supposed to walk about and look for your living, and the watcher is +supposed to see that you do do it—to take care that you look sharp, and +above all that you don’t take customers anywhere but _home_. And what do +you get for it all? You’re half fed, and bullied day and night, and +threatened to be stripped and turned out; and when you’re at home, the +watcher is generally hanging about, and he’ll ‘down’ you with a ‘one’r’ +in the back or side (he won’t hit you in the face, for fear of spoiling +it) if Mother H— only gives him the wink, though perhaps you’ve risked +getting into trouble, and stood many a glass of gin to him the night +before.” + +It is difficult, indeed, to imagine a human creature more deplorably +circumstanced than the one whose sad story is above narrated, and who is +only “one of a thousand.” There are those of the sisterhood who appear +in a more hideous shape, as, for instance, the horde of human tigresses +who swarm in the pestilent dens by the riverside at Ratcliff and +Shadwell. These may have fallen lower in depravity, indeed they are +herded in the very mud and ooze of it, but they do not _suffer_ as the +gaily-bedizened “dress lodger” does. They are almost past human feeling. +Except when they are ill and in hospital, they are never sober. As soon +as her eyes are open in the morning, the she-creature of “Tiger Bay” +seeks to cool her parched mouth out of the gin-bottle; and “— your eyes, +let us have some more gin!” is the prayer she nightly utters before she +staggers to her straw, to snore like the worse than pig she is. + +Soldiers’ women are different from sailors’ women. As a rule, they are +much more decent in appearance, and they are insured against habits of +bestial intoxication by the slender resources of the men on whose bounty +they depend. It is not possible to dip very deeply into the wine-cup or +even the porter-pot on an income of about fourpence-halfpenny per diem, +and it painfully illustrates what a wretched trade prostitution may +become that it is driven even to the barracks. + +Beyond the barracks; out on to the wild bleak common, where, winter and +summer, the military tents are pitched. + +A year or so since there appeared in the pages of the _Pall Mall Gazette_ +three graphic and astounding letters concerning the dreadful condition of +a colony of women who “squatted” amongst the furze of Curragh Common, and +subsisted on such miserable wage as the soldiers there quartered could +afford to pay them. These creatures are known in and about the great +military camp and its neighbourhood as “wrens.” They do not live in +houses, or even huts, but build for themselves “nests” in the bush. To +quote the words of the writer in question, these nests “have an interior +space of about nine feet long by seven feet broad; and the roof is not +more than four and a half feet from the ground. You crouch into them as +beasts crouch into cover, and there is no standing upright till you crawl +out again. They are rough misshapen domes of furze, like big rude +birds’-nests, compacted of harsh branches, and turned topsy-turvy upon +the ground. The walls are some twenty inches thick, and they do get +pretty well compacted—much more than would be imagined. There is no +chimney—not even a hole in the roof, which generally slopes forward. The +smoke of the turf-fire which burns on the floor of the hut has to pass +out at the door when the wind is favourable, and to reek slowly through +the crannied walls when it is not. The door is a narrow opening, nearly +the height of the structure—a slit in it, kept open by two rude posts, +which also serve to support the roof. To keep it down and secure from +the winds that drive over the Curragh so furiously, sods of earth are +placed on top, here and there, with a piece of corrugated iron (much used +in the camp, apparently—I saw many old and waste pieces lying about) as +an additional protection from rain. Sometimes a piece of this iron is +placed in the longitudinal slit aforesaid, and then you have a door as +well as a doorway. Flooring there is none of any kind whatever, nor any +attempt to make the den snugger by burrowing down into the bosom of the +earth. The process of construction seems to be to clear the turf from +the surface of the plain to the required space, to cut down some bushes +for building material, and to call in a friendly soldier or two to rear +the walls by the simple process of piling and trampling. When the nest +is newly made, as that one was which I first examined, and if you happen +to view it on a hot day, no doubt it seems tolerably snug shelter. A +sportsman might lie there for a night or two without detriment to his +health or his moral nature. But all the nests are not newly made; and if +the sun shines on the Curragh, bitter winds drive across it, with +swamping rains for days and weeks together, and miles of snow-covered +plain sometimes lie between this wretched colony of abandoned women and +the nearest town. Wind and rain are their worst enemies (unless we +reckon-in mankind) and play ‘old gooseberry’ with the bush-dwellings. +The beating of the one and the pelting of the other soon destroy their +bowery summer aspect. They get crazy, they fall toward this side and +that, they shrink in and down upon the outcast wretches that huddle in +them, and the doorposts don’t keep the roof up, and the clods don’t keep +it down. The nest is nothing but a furzy hole, such as, for comfort, any +wild-beast may match anywhere, leaving cleanliness out of the question.” + +In each of these wretched lairs, the writer—who, be it borne in mind, was +an eye-witness of what he describes—goes on to inform us, companies of +these awful “birds,” varying in number from three to six, eat, drink, +sleep, cook, and receive company. As regards the furniture and domestic +utensils with which each hut is provided, “the most important piece of +furniture was a wooden shelf running along the back of the nest, and +propped on sticks driven into the earthen floor. Some mugs, some plates, +some cups and saucers, a candlestick; two or three old knives and forks, +battered and rusty; a few dull and dinted spoons; a teapot (this being +rather a rich establishment), and several other articles of a like +character, were displayed upon the shelf; and a grateful sight it was. I +declare I was most thankful for the cups and saucers; and as for the +teapot, it looked like an ark of redemption in crockery-ware. If they +were not—as I told myself when my eyes first rested on them—the only +human-looking things in the place, they did give one a comfortable +assurance that these wretched and desperate outcasts had not absolutely +broken with the common forms and habits of civilised life. + + “Beneath it was heaped an armful of musty straw, originally smuggled + in from the camp stables: this, drawn out and shaken upon the earth, + was the common bed. A rough wooden box, such as candles are packed + in, stood in a corner; one or two saucepans, and a horrid old + tea-kettle, which had all the look of a beldame punished by drink, + were disposed in various nooks in the furzy walls; a frying-pan was + stuck into them by the handle, in company with a crooked stick of + iron used as a poker; and—undoubtedly _that_ was there—a cheap little + looking-glass was stuck near the roof. These things formed the whole + furniture and appointments of the nest, if we exclude a petticoat or + so hung up at intervals. There was not a stool in the place; and as + for anything in the shape of a table, there was not room even for the + idea of such a thing. Except for the cups and saucers, I doubt + whether any Australian native habitation is more savage or more + destitute: _he_ can get an old saucepan or two, and knows how to + spread a little straw on the ground. Nor were any of the other nests + (and I believe I looked into them all) better or differently + furnished. The only difference was in the quantity of crockery. In + every one the candle-box was to be found. I discovered that it was + the receptacle of those little personal ornaments and cherished + trifles which women, in every grade of life, hoard with a sort of + animal instinct. In every one an upturned saucepan was used for a + seat, when squatting on the earth became too tiresome. In all, the + practice is to sleep with your head under the shelf (thus gaining + some additional protection from the wind) and your feet to the + turf-fire, which is kept burning all night near the doorway. Here + the use of the perforated saucepan becomes apparent. It is placed + over the burning turf when the wrens dispose themselves to rest, and + as there is no want of air in these dwellings, the turf burns well + and brightly under the protecting pot. Another remembrance of a + decent life is seen in the fact, that the women always undress + themselves to sleep upon their handful of straw, their day-clothes + serving to cover them.” + +The “wrens” themselves are described as being almost all young, and all, +without an exception, Irish. They range from seventeen to twenty-five +years old, and almost all come out of cabins in country places. +Occasionally a delicate-looking “wren” may be met, but as a rule they are +sturdy, fine-limbed women, full of health and strength; many are +good-looking. In their style of dress, no less than undress, they are +peculiar. “All day they lounge in a half-naked state, clothed simply in +one frieze petticoat, and another, equally foul, cast loosely over then +shoulders; though, towards evening, they put on the decent attire of the +first girl I met there. These bettermost clothes are kept bright and +clean enough; the frequency with which they are seen displayed on the +bushes to dry, shows how often they are washed, and how well. These +observations apply to the cotton gown, the stockings, the white petticoat +alone; frieze and flannel never know anything of soap-and-water at all, +apparently. The ‘Curragh-petticoat’ is familiarly known for miles and +miles round; its peculiarity seems to be that it is starched, but not +ironed. The difference in the appearance of these poor wretches when the +gown and petticoat are donned, and when they are taken off again (that is +to say, the moment they come back from the ‘hunting-grounds’), answers +precisely to their language and demeanour when sober and when tipsy.” +The communistic principle governs each “nest;” and share-and-share alike +is the rule observed. “None of the women have any money of their own; +what each company get is thrown into a common purse, and the nest is +provisioned out of it. What they get is little indeed: a few halfpence +turned out of one pocket and another when the clean starched frocks are +thrown off at night, make up a daily income just enough to keep body and +soul together.” + +Inquiry careful and judicious disclosed to the daring literary +investigator that the “wrens” take it in turns to do the marketing and +keep house while their sisters are abroad “on business.” As need not be +mentioned, it is the youngest and best-looking women who engage in the +money-getting branch. Considering how severe are their privations, and +the unceasing life of wretchedness they lead, it is not without surprise +that we hear that many of the “wrens” have occupied the ground they still +squat on during the past eight or nine years. “I asked one of these +older birds how they contrived their sleeping-accommodation before +‘nests’ were invented. Said she, ‘We’d pick the biggest little bush we +could find, and lay under it, turnin’ wid the wind.’ ‘Shifting round the +bush as the wind shifted?’ ‘Thrue for ye. And sometimes we’d wake wid +the snow covering us, and maybe soaked wid rain.’ ‘And how did you dry +your clothes?’ ‘We jist waited for a fine day.’” + +The above and much more information concerning the habits and customs of +these bushwomen of the Curragh was obtained in the daytime; but this was +not enough for the plucky _Pall-Mall_ adventurer. He was well aware that +the wren was a night-bird, and could only be seen in her true colours by +candle-glimmer within her nest, or by the light of the stars or moon +while abroad hunting for prey. Setting out after dark, our friend made +his way across the common towards the nests he had visited the day +before, and particularly to one known as No. 2 nest, the inmates of which +had shown themselves very civil and obliging. + +“As I approached it,” says the writer, “I saw but one wretched figure +alone. Crouched near the glowing turf, with her head resting upon her +hands, was a woman whose age I could scarcely guess at, though I think, +by the masses of black hair that fell forward upon her hands and backward +over her bare shoulders, that she must have been young. She was +apparently dozing, and taking no heed of the pranks of the frisky little +curly-headed boy whom I have made mention of before; he was playing on +the floor. When I announced myself by rapping on the bit of corrugated +iron which stood across the bottom of the doorway, the woman started in +something like fright; but she knew me at a second glance, and in I went. +‘Put back the iron, if ye plaze,’ said the wren as I entered; ‘the wind’s +blowing this way to-night, bad luck to it!’ . . . I wanted to know how +my wretched companion in this lonely, windy, comfortless hovel, came from +being a woman to be turned into a wren. The story began with ‘no father +nor mother,’ an aunt who kept a whisky-store in Cork, an artilleryman who +came to the whisky-store and saw and seduced the girl. By and by his +regiment was ordered to the Curragh. The girl followed him, being then +with child. ‘He blamed me for following him,’ said she. ‘He’d have +nothing to do with me. He told me to come here, and do like other women +did. And what could I do? My child was born here, in this very place; +and glad I was of the shelter, and glad I was when the child died—thank +the blessed Mary! What could I do with a child? His father was sent +away from here, and a good riddance. He used me very bad.’ After a +minute’s silence the woman continued, a good deal to my surprise, ‘I’ll +show you the likeness of a betther man, far away, one that never said a +cross word to me—blessed’s the ground he treads upon!’ And fumbling in +the pocket of her too scanty and dingy petticoat, she produced a +photographic portrait of a soldier, enclosed in half-a-dozen greasy +letters. ‘He’s a bandsman, sir, and a handsome man he is; and I believe +he likes me too. But they have sent him to Malta for six years; I’ll +never see my darlint again.’ And then this poor wretch, who was half +crying as she spoke, told me how she had walked to Dublin to see him just +before he sailed, ‘because the poor craythur wanted to see me onst more.’ + +“From this woman, so strangely compounded, I learned that she had +suffered so much privation last winter, that she had made up her mind not +to stay in the bush another such a season. ‘At the first fall of snow +I’ll go to the workhouse, that I will!’ she said in the tone of one who +says that in such an event he is determined to cut his throat. ‘Why, +would you belave it, sir?—last winter the snow would be up as high as our +little house, and we had to cut a path through it to the min, or we’d +been ruined intirely.’ + +“. . . Presently the report of a gun was heard. ‘Gunfire!’ cried my +companion. ‘They’ll be back soon now, and I hope it’s not drunk they +are.’ I went out to listen. All was dead quiet, and nothing was to be +seen but the lights in the various bushes, till suddenly a blaze broke +out at a distance. Some dry furze had been fired by some of the soldiers +wandering on the common, and in search of whom the picket presently came +round, peeping into every bush. Presently the sound of distant voices +was heard; it came nearer and nearer, and its shrillness and confusion +made it known to me that it was indeed a party of returning wrens, far +from sober. They were, in fact, mad drunk; and the sound of their voices +as they came on through the dense darkness, screaming obscene sounds +broken by bursts of horrible laughter, with now and then a rattling +volley of oaths which told that fighting was going on, was staggering. I +confess I now felt uncomfortable. I had only seen the wren sober, or +getting sober; what she might be in that raging state of drunkenness I +had yet to find out, and the discovery threatened to be very unpleasant. +The noise came nearer, and was more shocking because you could +disentangle the voices and track each through its own course of swearing, +or of obscene singing and shouting, or of dreadful threats, which dealt +in detail with every part of the human frame. ‘Is this your lot?’ I +asked my companion with some apprehension, as at length the shameful crew +burst out of the darkness. ‘Some of ’em, I think.’ But no, they passed +on; such a spectacle as made me tremble. I felt like a man respited when +the last woman went staggering by. Again voices were heard, this time +proceeding from the women belonging to the bush where I was spending such +an uncomfortable evening. Five in all,—two tipsy and three comparatively +sober,—they soon presented themselves at the door; one of them was +Billy’s mother. At the sound of her voice the child woke up and cried +for her. She was the most forbidding-looking creature in the whole +place; but she hastened to divest herself outside of her crinoline and +the rest of her walking attire (nearly all she had on), and came in and +nursed the boy very tenderly. The other wrens also took off gown and +petticoat, and folding them up, made seats of them within the nest. Then +came the important inquiry from the watching wren, ‘What luck have you +had?’ to which the answer was, ‘Middling.’ Without the least scruple +they counted up what they had got amongst them—a poor account. It was +enough to make a man’s heart bleed to hear the details, and to see the +actual money. + +“In order to continue my observations a little later in a way agreeable +to those wretched outcasts, I proposed to ‘stand supper,’ a proposition +which was joyfully received, of course. Late as it was, away went one of +the wrens to get supper, presently returning with a loaf, some bacon, +some tea, some sugar, a little milk, and a can of water. The women +brought all these things in such modest quantities that my treat cost no +more (I got my change, and I remember the precise sum) than two shillings +and eightpence-halfpenny. The frying-pan was put in requisition, and +there seemed some prospect of a ‘jolly night’ for my more sober nest of +wrens. One of them began to sing—not a pretty song; but presently she +stopped to listen to the ravings of a strong-voiced vixen in an adjoining +bush. ‘It’s Kate,’ said one, ‘and she’s got the drink in her—the devil +that she is.’ I then heard that this was a woman of such ferocity when +drunk that the whole colony was in terror of her. One of the women near +me showed me her face, torn that very night by the virago’s nails, and a +finger almost bitten through. As long as the voice of the formidable +creature was heard, everyone was silent in No. 2 nest—silent out of fear +that she would presently appear amongst them. Her voice ceased: again a +song was commenced; then the frying-pan began to hiss; and that sound it +was, perhaps, that brought the dreaded virago down upon us. She was +heard coming from her own bush, raging as she came. ‘My God, there she +is!’ one of the women exclaimed. ‘She’s coming here; and if she sees you +she’ll tear every rag from your back!’ The next moment the fierce +creature burst into our bush, a stalwart woman full five feet ten inches +high, absolutely mad with drink. Her hair was streaming down her back; +she had scarcely a rag of clothing on; and the fearful figure made at me +with a large jug, intended to be smashed upon my skull. I declare her +dreadful figure appalled me. I was so wonder-stricken, that I believe +she might have knocked me on the head without resistance; but, quick as +lightning, one of the women got before me, spreading out her petticoat. +‘Get out of it!’ she shouted in terror; ‘run!’ And so I did. Covered by +this friendly and grateful wren, I passed out of the nest, and made my +way homeward in the darkness. One of the girls stepped out to show me +the way. I parted from her a few yards from the nest, and presently +‘lost myself’ on the common. It was nearly two o’clock when I got to +Kildare from my last visit to that shameful bush-village.” + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. +THE PRESENT CONDITION OF THE QUESTION. + + +_The Laws applying to Street-walkers_—_The Keepers of the Haymarket +Night-houses_—_Present Position of the Police-magistrates_.—_Music-hall +Frequenters_—_Refreshment-bars_—_Midnight +Profligacy_—“_Snuggeries_”—_Over-zealous Blockheads_. + +SIX or seven years since, such alterations were made in the laws applying +to nocturnal street-walkers and disorderly persons generally, as enabled +the London magistrates, with the assistance of the police, to reduce the +great Haymarket disgrace to manageable dimensions. To completely abolish +so renowned and prodigious a nuisance at a blow was more than could be +expected; but the public generally were quite satisfied with the gradual +and successful working of the plans adopted for the final extinction of +the infamous “oyster-shops,” and cafés, and wine-shops, that in the olden +time made night hideous from St. James’s-street to Piccadilly. Suddenly, +however, the good work has received a serious check. According to the +usual custom, the keeper of a refreshment-house, on being summoned before +the magistrate (Mr. Knox) for an infringement of the Act, was fined for +the offence; and nothing else was expected but that the fine would be +paid, and, except for its salutary effect, there an end of it. But it +would seem that the fined “night-house” keeper had cunning advisers, who +assured him that the conviction was bad, and that he had only to appeal +to a superior court to insure its being set aside. The course suggested +was adopted, and crowned with success. Mr. Knox’s decision was reversed, +it not being clearly shown that the loose women discovered on the +premises were really assembled for an immoral purpose. + +The _Times_, commenting on this, says: “It is matter for general regret, +since its probable result will be that in future the keepers of the +Haymarket ‘night-houses’ will do pretty much what they please, without +let or hindrance. It was decided by Sir William Bodkin and his brother +magistrates sitting at the Middlesex Sessions, on an appeal brought from +Marlborough-street, that no case is made out against the keeper of a +‘night-house,’ unless the police can prove that the women found in the +house were assembled there for an immoral purpose; it was possible they +might be there merely for the legitimate purpose of refreshment, and not +in prosecution of their wretched trade. It is perfectly obvious that +this interpretation of the law, whether or not true to the letter, +utterly violates the spirit. The character of the women who frequent +these ‘night-houses’ is perfectly well known. They have, moreover, but +one possible object in frequenting them. It is clear, therefore, that +they come within the spirit of the law against harbouring improper +characters quite as much as if they visited these houses actually in +company of men; and hence it follows that no new principle of +legislation, requiring long consideration and repeated discussion, would +be introduced if the law were made to reach them. We should, in fact, be +not making a new law, but giving an old law its proper effect—an effect +actually given it, as Mr. Knox points out, for seven years, and latterly +with admirable results. Under these circumstances, we can see no +objection to replacing the law on its former satisfactory footing by the +simple expedient of a short clause in the Habitual Criminals’ Bill. The +Bill already deals with the low beer-houses, which are the favourite +resorts of certain dangerous classes of the community; and the addition +of a few words would enable it to deal with such ‘night-houses’ as those +we have been discussing. This would not interfere with subsequent more +mature and more comprehensive legislation on the subject, while it would +obviate the delay which has driven the police authorities to desperation, +and which threatens to give a fresh lease to a grave national scandal, +just as it was in the way of being repressed.” + +The old law alluded to by the _Times_ is the Act of Parliament of the 2d +and 3d Vict. cap. 47, and is entitled “An Act for further empowering the +Police in and near the Metropolis;” being an amendment of Sir Robert +Peel’s original statute, the 10th Geo. IV. Clauses 44, 52, 54, 58, and +63, bear especially on the penalties incurred by disorderly fallen women. + +The 44th clause runs as follows: + + “And whereas it is expedient that the provisions made by law for + preventing disorderly conduct in the houses of licensed victuallers + be extended to other houses of public resort; be it enacted that + every person who shall have or keep any house, shop, room, or place + of public resort within the Metropolitan-Police district, wherein + provisions, liquors, or refreshments of any kind shall be sold or + consumed (whether the same shall be kept or retailed therein, or + procured elsewhere), and who shall wilfully or knowingly permit + drunkenness or other disorderly conduct in such house, shop, room, or + place, or knowingly suffer any unlawful games or any gaming + whatsoever therein, or knowingly suffer or permit _prostitutes_, or + persons of notoriously bad character, to meet together and remain + therein, shall for every such offence be liable to a penalty of not + more than five pounds.” + +The 52d clause of the same statute provides: + + “That it shall be lawful for the Commissioners of Police from time to + time, and as occasion may require, to make regulation for the route + to be observed by all carts, carriages, horses, and persons, and for + preventing obstructions of the streets or thoroughfares within the + Metropolitan-Police district, in all times of public processions, + public rejoicings, or illuminations; and also to give directions to + the constables for keeping order and for preventing any obstruction + of the thoroughfares in the immediate neighbourhood of her Majesty’s + palaces and public offices, the High Court of Parliament, the courts + of law and equity, the police-courts, the theatres, and other places + of public resort, and in any case when the streets or thoroughfares + may be thronged or may be liable to be obstructed.” + +The 54th clause provides, in continuation: + + “That every person who, after being made acquainted with the + regulations or directions which the Commissioner of Police shall have + made for regulating the route of horses, carts, carriages, and + persons during the time of divine service, and for preventing + obstructions during public processions, and on other occasions + hereinbefore specified, shall wilfully disregard, or not conform + himself thereto, shall be liable to a penalty of not more than forty + shillings. And it shall be lawful for any constable belonging to the + Metropolitan-Police force to take into custody, _without warrant_, + any person who shall commit any such offence within view of any such + constable.” + +The same 54th clause also provides: + + “That every common prostitute or night-walker, loitering, or being in + any thoroughfare or public place, for the purpose of prostitution or + solicitation, to the annoyance of the inhabitants or passengers, + shall be liable to a penalty of not more than forty shillings, and to + be dealt with in the same manner.” + +And again, that “every person who shall use any profane, indecent, or +obscene language to the annoyance of the inhabitants or passengers;” and +also “every person who shall use any threatening, abusive, or insulting +words or behaviour with intent to provoke a breach of the peace, or +whereby a breach of the peace may be occasioned,” may be also so dealt +with. The 58th clause enacts: + + “That every person who shall be found drunk in any street or public + thoroughfare within the said district, and who while drunk shall be + guilty of any riotous or indecent behaviour, and also every person + who shall be guilty of any violent or indecent behaviour in any + police station-house, shall be liable to a penalty of not more than + forty shillings for every such offence or may be committed, if the + magistrate by whom he is convicted shall think fit, instead of + inflicting upon him any pecuniary fine, to the House of Correction + for any time not more than seven days.” + +The 63rd clause enacts: + + “That it shall be lawful for any constable belonging to the + Metropolitan-Police district, and for all persons whom he shall call + to his assistance, to take into custody, without a warrant, any + person who within view of such constable, shall offend in any manner + against this Act, and whose name and residence shall be unknown to + such constable, and cannot be ascertained by such constable.” + +The police are, under the same Act, empowered to deal with disorder, +drunkenness, disorderly conduct brawling, loitering and obstruction, +whether coming by prostitutes or others. Habitual loitering upon certain +fixed spots they already keep in check, generally speaking, without +tyranny; and next comes to be considered what can be done in case of what +is called “solicitation” or importunity, a prominent feature in the +general hill of indictment against prostitution. + +To a person uninitiated in the law’s subtleties, it would seem that the +clauses of the Act of Parliament above quoted armed the police with all +necessary authority, and that all that was requisite was to compel the +observance of the said clauses, strictly and without favour, to insure a +considerable mitigation of the great evil. Indeed, as has been shown, +believing themselves justified in the course they have been for years +pursuing, the police have undoubtedly effected a vast and important +change in the aspect of the Haymarket and its neighbourhood after +midnight. The result, however, of the Assistant-Judge’s decision appears +to have put the worthy and indefatigable Mr. Knox quite out of heart, as +may be gathered from the subjoined newspaper account of the last case +that was brought before him: + + “Rose Burton, keeper of a refreshment-house in Jermyn-street, lately + known as Kate Franks, appeared to answer two summonses for harbouring + prostitutes. The police gave the usual evidence. They visited the + house at night. They found men and women there; the women known + prostitutes, some taking refreshment. There was no disorder, and the + usual signal by ringing a bell had been given when the police + presented themselves at the house. For the defence it was urged, + that the evidence was similar to that given before the Middlesex + magistrates on appeal, after hearing which they quashed the + conviction, and that the magistrate should dismiss the summonses. + Mr. Knox said he must send the case to the Sessions in order to get a + clear declaration of what was meant. If the judgment of the Court + was against him, he must wash his hands of the matter. He should + inflict the reduced fine of 10_s._ in order that the conviction + should be taken to the Sessions. Mr. Froggatt asked for a decision + in the second case. Mr. Knox would act in it the same as in the last + case. It was, so to say, a last desperate effort. If he failed, his + honest determination was to take no further trouble in the matter; + but to report to the Home Office that the efforts to reform the + condition of the Haymarket had entirely broken down. Mr. Edward + Lewis, after some consultation with Mr. Allen jun. and Mr. Froggatt, + said that, owing to technical difficulties, it would be impossible to + get an appeal to Quarter Sessions before the 24th July. Mr. Knox + said that would be too late for Parliament to deal with the matter, + as the session would most probably close early in August. There was + no help for it; the nighthouse-keepers must go on in their own way; + the police might give up their supervision and refrain from taking + out summonses, as he certainly should decline to convict. He should + cancel the three convictions that day, and dismiss the summonses; he + was powerless, and therefore disinclined to enforce what for seven + years had been considered as law, but what had been suddenly upset at + Quarter Sessions. Mr. Knox then requested Mr. Superintendent Dunlop + to communicate what had occurred to the Commissioners of Police.” + +At the same time, it is no more than fair to lay before the reader the +explanation given by the Assistant-Judge on the last occasion of the +matter coming before him. It should be understood that the case in +question was not that of “Rose Burton,” but of another of the fraternity +who had been fined by Mr. Knox. The party in question gave notice of +appeal, and the police authorities intimated their intention of +supporting the magistrate in his conviction. From some unexplained +cause, however, at the last moment the Commissioners of Police withdrew +altogether from the case, leaving it all undefended to be dealt with by +Mr. Bodkin. The judgment of the learned Assistant-Judge was as follows: + + “There are two cases in the paper of appeals against convictions by + Mr. Knox for causing or allowing prostitutes to assemble; and upon + these two cases being called, counsel intimated that the solicitors + of the Commissioners of Police had written a letter to say that they + should not support these convictions. Under those circumstances no + other course was open to us but to quash them. But I mention the + fact now because these convictions have been the subject of + considerable comment and of interrogation in the House of Commons. I + can only say that there is no law in these cases at all. It is + entirely a question of fact, and each case must stand upon its own + merits. On one occasion we quashed a conviction on the hearing, and + upon that decision a great deal has been said. The sole evidence + there was, that a policeman went into the house between twelve and + one and found men and women having refreshment, some of the women + being prostitutes. No question was asked; and there was nothing to + show that the person who kept the house knew they were prostitutes. + There was nothing to show that any warning had been previously given + against harbouring or encouraging them to come. There was no ringing + of any bell to give notice of the approach of the police. In fact, + there was nothing but the mere incident that the police, before the + hour of one, when these houses should be closed, found persons in + them taking refreshments—some of those persons being prostitutes. + Although I do not shrink from taking on myself the chief + responsibility, there were many magistrates present who formed their + own opinion upon the question, which was a question of fact; and it + seemed so clearly not to be a case which satisfied the requirements + of the law, that we did not call upon the counsel for the appellants, + but at once quashed the conviction. Indeed, after all that has been + said, I have no hesitation in stating that if another case came here, + and was presented to us in such a bald and unsatisfactory manner, we + should again quash the conviction. We are as desirous as Mr. Knox to + put an end to any nuisance, whether in the Haymarket or elsewhere; + but we cannot forget that we are in a court of law, bound to act upon + such testimony as is sworn before us, and not to embark upon + inquiries of another kind. There was not a tittle of evidence as to + ringing a bell, or of anything more than persons taking refreshment + within the hours allowed by law, some of those persons being + ‘unfortunates.’ I do not think that any bench of magistrates in the + kingdom could, under the circumstances, have arrived at a different + conclusion. If other cases come before us, we shall treat them as we + treated the last, according to the effect of the sworn evidence in + court, and in no other way. I am very sorry if our decision should + have induced Mr. Knox, for whom I entertain a great respect, to + abstain from convicting in other cases, unless those were cases of + the same bald and unsatisfactory character as that which we decided.” + +From one point of view maybe it is difficult to overrate the importance +of this judgment, especially if, as the _Times_ predicts, it will have +the effect of giving the keepers of the Haymarket haunts of infamy +liberty to do pretty much as they please. Laying too much stress on this +Haymarket business, however, may be harmful in another direction. It may +lead the public to the decidedly wrong conclusion that the well-known +thoroughfare indicated, and the taverns and refreshment-houses it +contains, are the head-quarters, the one main source, from which flows +the prodigious stream of immorality that floods the town with +contamination. + +Now this is very far from being the fact. The extent to which the +Haymarket haunts are criminal is equalled, and in many cases far +excelled, in a dozen different parts of London every night between the +hours of ten and one—and that without remonstrance or hindrance on the +part of the police authorities or anyone else. I allude to the London +music-halls. One of the most disreputable was burnt down the other day; +and it would be a matter for rejoicing—for public thanksgiving almost—if +the score or so of similar places of popular amusement, polluting every +quarter of the metropolis, shared a similar fate. To be sure, the +music-halls keep within the letter of the law in the matter of closing +their doors before one o’clock; but in every other respect their +operation is as mischievous as any of the prosecuted dens at the +West-end. And I beg of the reader to distinctly understand that I am not +quoting from hearsay. There is not a single music-hall—from the vast +“Alhambra” in Leicester-square, to the unaristocratic establishment in +the neighbourhood of Leather-lane, originally christened the “Raglan,” +but more popularly known as the “Rag”—that I have not visited. And I am +bound to confess that the same damning elements are discoverable in one +and all. + +At the same time it must be admitted—shameful and disgraceful as the +admission is—that it is not the music-hall of the vulgar East-end or +“over the water” that presents in special prominence the peculiar +features here spoken of, and which, in plain language, are licentiousness +and prostitution. He who would witness the perfection to which these +twin curses may be wrought under the fostering influences of “music,” +&c., must visit the west, and not the east or south, of the metropolis. +He must make a journey to Leicester-square, and to the gorgeous and +palatial Alhambra there to be found. What he will there discover will +open his eyes to what a farcical thing the law is, and how within the +hour it will strain at gnats, and bolt entire camels without so much as a +wry face or a wince, or a wink even. + +I speak fearlessly, because all that I describe may be witnessed +to-night, to-morrow, any time, by the individual adventurous and curious +enough to go and see for himself. There is no fear of his missing it; no +chance of his fixing on a wrong night. It is _always_ the same at the +music-hall. Its meat is other men’s poison; and it can fatten and +prosper while honesty starves. The bane and curse of society is its main +support; and to introduce the purging besom would be to ruin the +business. + +At the same time, I would wish it to be distinctly understood, that I do +not desire to convey to the reader the impression that the numerical +majority of music-hall frequenters are persons of immoral tendencies. On +the contrary, I am well convinced that such places are the resort of a +vast number of the most respectable portion of the working-class. This, +I believe, is a fact carefully treasured by music-hall proprietors, and +elaborately displayed by them whenever their morality is attacked. They +point to the well-filled body of the hall, the sixpenny part, where +artisans and working-men congregate, and not unfrequently bring with them +their wives and daughters; and triumphantly inquire, “Is it likely that +the music-hall can be what slanderers represent, when it is so +patronised?” And it is quite true that a very large number of honest and +intelligent folk are attracted thither in search of harmless amusement. +Let them bless God for their ignorance of the world’s wicked ways if they +succeed in finding it. It is not impossible. Provided they look neither +to the right nor left of them, but pay their sixpence at the door, and +march to the seats apportioned them; and, still at eyes right, direct +their gaze and their organs of hearing towards the stage, from which the +modern “comic vocalist” doles out to a stolen tune feeble jingling +idiotcies of “his own composing,”—if they are steadfast to this, they may +come away not much the worse for the evening’s entertainment. But let +him not look about him, especially if he have his wife or daughters with +him, or he may find himself tingling with a feeling it was never his +misfortune to experience before. + +The honest believer in the harmlessness of music-halls would, if he +looked about him as he sat in the sixpenny “pit,” discover in more +quarters than one that which would open his innocent eyes. If his vision +were directed upwards towards the boxes and balconies, there he would +discover it. Brazen-faced women blazoned in tawdry finely, and curled +and painted, openly and without disguise bestowing their blandishments on +“spoony” young swells of the “commercial” and shopman type, for the sake +of the shilling’s-worth of brandy-and-water that steams before them, and +in prospect of future advantages. There is no mistaking these women. +They do not go there to be mistaken. They make no more disguise of their +profession than do cattle-drovers in the public markets. They are there +in pursuit of their ordinary calling, and, splendid creatures though they +appear, it is curious to witness the supreme indifference to them of the +door-keepers as they flaunt past them. It makes good the old proverb +about the familiarity that breeds contempt; besides, as a customer in +simple, the painted free-drinking lady is not desirable. I should not +for a moment wish to impute without substantial proof so dastardly a +feature of “business” to any spirited music-hall proprietor in +particular; but I am positively assured by those who should know, that on +certain recognised nights loose women are admitted to these places +_without payment_. I know as a fact, too, that it is no uncommon thing +for these female music-hall frequenters to enlist the services of cabmen +on “spec,” the latter conveying their “fare” to the Alhambra or the +Philharmonic without present payment, on the chance that she will in the +course of the evening “pick up a flat,” who will with the lady require +his services to drive them to the Haymarket or elsewhere. How much of +extortion and robbery may be committed under such a convenient cloak it +is not difficult to guess. The evidence not being quite so +unobjectionable as it might be, I will not mention names; but I was +recently informed with apparent sincerity by one of those poor bedizened +unfortunates—a “dress lodger” possibly—that a certain music-hall +proprietor issued to women of her class “weekly tickets” at half-price, +the main condition attaching to the advantage being that the holder did +not “ply” in the low-priced parts of the hall; that is to say, amongst +those who could afford to pay for nothing more expensive than pints of +beer. + +But it is at the refreshment-bars of these palatial shams and impostures, +as midnight and closing time approaches, that profligacy may be seen +reigning rampant. Generally at one end of the hall is a long strip of +metal counter, behind which superbly-attired barmaids vend strong +liquors. Besides these there are “snuggeries,” or small private +apartments, to which bashful gentlemen desirous of sharing a bottle of +wine with a recent acquaintance may retire. But the unblushing immodesty +of the place concentrates at this long bar. Any night may here be found +_dozens_ of prostitutes enticing simpletons to drink, while the men who +are _not_ simpletons hang about, smoking pipes and cigars, and merely +sipping, not drinking deeply, and with watchful wary eyes on the pretty +game of fox-and-goose that is being played all round about them. No one +molests them, or hints that their behaviour is at variance with “the +second and third of Victoria, cap. 47.” Here they are in dozens, in +scores, prostitutes every one, doing exactly as they do at the infamous +and prosecuted Haymarket dens, and no one interferes. I say, doing all +that the Haymarket woman does; and it must be so, since the gay patroness +of the music-halls does simply all she can to lure the dupe she may at +the moment have in tow. She entices him to drink; she drinks with him: +she ogles, and winks, and whispers, and encourages like behaviour on his +part, her main undisguised object being to induce him to prolong the +companionship after the glaring gaslight of the liquor-bar is lowered, +and its customers are shown to the outer door. If that is not “knowingly +suffering prostitutes to meet together” for the more convenient +prosecution of their horrible trade, what else is it? And yet the +cunning schemes and contrivances for misleading and throwing dust in the +eyes of the police are not practised here. There are no scouts and +“bells,” the former causing the latter to chime a warning on the approach +of the enemy. The enemy, the police, that is to say, are on the spot. +In almost every case there will be found in the music-hall lobby an +intelligent liveried guardian of the public peace, here stationed that he +may take cognisance of suspicious-looking persons, and eject improper +characters. Should he happen, as is most likely, to be a policeman whose +“beat” is in the neighbourhood, he will by sight be quite familiar with +every loose woman who for a mile round in the streets plies her lawless +trade. He recognises them, as with a nod of old acquaintance they pass +the money-taker; he saunters to the bar, where the women gather to prime +their prey, and he witnesses their doings, but he takes no notice, and +never complains. + +To be sure, the man is not to blame; were he ordered to disperse +congregations of prostitutes wherever he found them, and to warn the +persons who dispense liquors to them—just as is expected of him in the +case of the ordinary public-house—that they are harbouring bad +characters, and must cease to do so, undoubtedly the policeman would +perform his duty. Until he receives express orders on the subject, +however, he is helpless, and very properly so. Although one would desire +to see ample powers for the suppression of prostitution placed in the +hands of the police, it is highly necessary that the said power, in the +hands of ordinary constable X, should be scrupulously watched by those +who are set in authority over him. Policemen make sad mistakes at times, +as witness the following monstrous instance, furnished by the +police-reports not more than a month since: + +At Southwark, Mrs. Catherine C—, aged twenty-eight, the wife of a +respectable man in the employ of the South-Eastern Railway Company, but +who was described on the charge-sheet as a prostitute, was charged by +Jas. Benstead, police-constable 17 M Reserve, with soliciting +prostitution near the London-bridge railway terminus. The constable said +that about ten o’clock on the previous night he was on duty near the +railway terminus, when he saw the prisoner accost a gentleman. Believing +her to be a prostitute, he went up to the gentleman, and from what he +said he took her into custody for soliciting him. The prisoner here said +she had been most cruelly used. She was a respectable married woman, and +lived with her husband in the Drummond-road, Bermondsey. She had been to +see her sister at Peckham, and had a return-ticket for the Spa-road; but +when she arrived at the London-bridge terminus, she was too late for the +train; consequently she determined to walk home, and as soon as she +turned into Duke-street, a gentleman stopped her and asked her whether +there was an omnibus left there for Whitechapel. She told him she did +not know, and as soon as he left, the constable came up and took her into +custody. She had been locked up all night. The prisoner here produced +the half of a return-ticket for the magistrate’s inspection. The husband +of the prisoner said he was in the employ of the South-Eastern Railway +Company, and resided at No. 190 Drummond-road, Bermondsey. His wife left +home on the previous afternoon to visit her sister at Peckham, and he +expected her home at ten o’clock. He was surprised at her absence, and +as soon as he ascertained she was locked up, he went to the +police-station, but was not permitted to see her. He could produce +several witnesses to prove the respectability of his wife. Mr. Burcham +ordered the prisoner to be discharged immediately. + +And so terminated the case as far as the magistrate was concerned; but +one cannot help feeling curious to know whether no more was done in the +matter. The outraged and cruelly-used woman was discharged, but was +Reserve-constable James Benstead permitted to retain his situation in the +police-force? How did the monstrous “mistake” arise? It is evident that +the poor young woman spoke the truth; Mr. Burcham settled that point by +ordering her immediate discharge. From any point of view, James Benstead +showed himself utterly unworthy to remain a constable. In interfering +with a decently-dressed woman, who must have been a stranger to him, +simply because he saw her “accost a gentleman,” he exhibited himself in +the light of an over-zealous blockhead. If the woman’s statement is to +be believed, he told a wicked and malicious lie when he said that he took +her into custody “on account of what the gentleman told him.” Where one +is left in the dark, to solve a mystery as one best may, it is not +impossible that one may guess wide of the mark; but it will under such +conditions occur to the recollection that before now “unfortunates,” new +to the life, have given deadly offence to policemen by not “paying their +footing,” as black-mail of a certain abominable kind is called; and +blundering James Benstead may have sustained a pecuniary disappointment. +It is to be sincerely hoped that that secret tribunal before which erring +policemen are arraigned (where is it?) will not let so flagrant a case +pass without notice; and if, after close investigation, policeman James +Benstead is proved to be the dangerous person he appears, that he may be +promptly stripped of his official uniform. Even supposing that James +Benstead is nothing worse than a blundering Jack-in-office, he is just of +the sort to bring the law into contempt and ridicule, and the sooner he +is cashiered the better. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. +SUGGESTIONS. + + +_Ignoring the Evil_—_Punishment fit for the_ “_Deserter_” _and the +Seducer_—_The_ “_Know-nothing_” _and_ “_Do-nothing_” _Principle_—_The +Emigration of Women of Bad Character_. + +IT is easy enough to understand, if one finds the courage to face this +worst of all social evils, and inquire calmly into the many shapes its +origin takes, how very possible it is that there may be living in a state +of depravity scores and hundreds of women who are what they are out of no +real _fault_ of their own. “Then why do they not turn, and reform their +infamous lives?” the indignant reader may ask. “They may if they will. +Is there not this, that, and the other asylum open to them?” Perhaps so. +Only perhaps. But for reasons hinted at in the commencement of this +chapter, it might be clearly enough shown that, “this, that, and +t’other,” to a very large extent, really and truly represent the +substantiality of the asylums to which the curse is admitted for +purgation. We have foolishly and blindly ignored the evil, and +consequently we have not been free to provide adequately for the +reception of those who have lived in it, and are now desirous of +returning, if they may, to decent life. We have some asylums of the +kind; but in capacity they are about as well adapted to perform the +prodigious amount of work ready for them as a ten-gallon filter would be +to purify the muddy waters of the Thames. + +Undoubtedly there are thousands of debased and wanton wretches for whom +the doors of such houses of reform and refuge, did they exist in plenty, +might in vain stand open. But let the reader for a moment consider how +many there are at this moment whose fall was mainly due to misplaced +trust and foolish confidence, and who are kept in their degradation out +of a sort of mad and bitter spite against themselves. As everyone can +vouch who has taken an interest in these fallen ones, and kindly +questioned them on their condition and their willingness to turn from it, +nothing is more common in their mouths than the answer, “I don’t care. +It’s a life good enough for me. A pretty image I should appear in +well-bred company, shouldn’t I? It’s no use your preaching to me. I’ve +made my bed, and I must lie on it.” And it would be found in countless +cases that these poor wretches did not in the original “make their bed,” +as they call it, and that it reveals a wonderful amount of forgiving and +generosity in them to profess that they did. If we could discover the +truth, we might get at the real bed-makers—the villanous conjurers of +couches of roses that were so speedily to turn to thorns and briars—in +the seducer and the base deserter. If ever the Legislature finds courage +enough to take up this great question in earnest, it is to be hoped that +ample provision will be made for the proper treatment of the heartless +scoundrel. As says a writer in an old number of the _Westminster +Review_: + + “The _deserter_, not the seducer, should be branded with the same + kind and degree of reprobation with which society now visits the + coward and the cheat. The man who submits to insult rather than + fight; the gambler who packs the cards, or loads the dice, or refuses + to pay his debts of honour, is hunted from among even his + unscrupulous associates as a stained and tarnished character. _Let + the same measure of retributive justice be dealt to the seducer who + deserts the woman who has trusted him_, _and allows her to come upon + the town_. We say the deserter—not the seducer; for there is as wide + a distinction between them as there is between the gamester and the + sharper. Mere seduction will never be visited with extreme severity + among men of the world, however correct and refined may be their + general tone of morals; for they will always make large allowances on + the score of youthful passions, favouring circumstances, and excited + feeling. Moreover, they well know that there is a wide + distinction—that there are all degrees of distinction—between a man + who commits a fault of this kind, under the influence of warm + affections and a fiery temperament, and the cold-hearted, systematic + assailer of female virtue, whom all reprobate and shun. It is + universally felt that you cannot, with any justice, class these men + in the same category, nor mete out to them the same measure of + condemnation. But the man who, when his caprice is satisfied, casts + off his victim as a worn-out garment or a damaged toy; who allows the + woman who trusted his protestations to sink from the position of his + companion to the loathsome life of prostitution, because his + seduction and desertion has left no other course open to her; who is + not ready to make any sacrifice of place, of fortune, of reputation + even, in order to save one whom he has once loved from such an abyss + of wretched infamy—must surely be more stained, soiled, and hardened + in soul, more utterly unfitted for the company or sympathy of + gentlemen or men of honour, than any coward, any gambler, any cheat!” + +I may not lay claim to being the discoverer of this well-written outburst +of manly indignation. It is quoted by a gentleman—a medical +gentleman—who has inquired deeper and written more to the real purpose on +this painful subject than any other writer with whom I am acquainted. I +allude to Dr. Acton. The volume that contains it is of necessity not one +that might be introduced to the drawing-room, but it is one that all +thinking men would do well to procure and peruse. Dr. Acton handles a +tremendously difficult matter masterly and courageously; and while really +he is of as delicate a mind as a lady, he does not scruple to enunciate +his honest convictions respecting the prevalent evil of prostitution, as +though it were an evil as commonly recognised and as freely discussed as +begging or thieving. In his introductory pages he says: + + “To those who profess a real or fictitious ignorance of prostitution, + its miseries and its ill-effects, and those again who plead + conscience for inaction, I have this one reply. Pointing to the + outward signs of prostitution in our streets and hospitals, I inquire + whether we can flatter ourselves that the subject has drifted into a + satisfactory state on the ‘know-nothing’ and ‘do-nothing’ principle. + I hint at the perilous self-sufficiency of the Pharisee, and the + wilful blindness of the Levite who ‘passed by on the other side,’ and + I press upon them that, after reading this work and testing its + author’s veracity, they should either refute its arguments or be + themselves converted. . . . I have little to say in the way of + apology for my plain-speaking. The nature of the subject has forced + this upon me. To have called things here treated of by another than + their right name would have been in any writer an absurdity, in me a + gross one. The experiences I have collected may to optimists and + recluses appear exaggerated. The visions I have indulged in may be + hard to grasp. But this more complicated knot demands a swordsman, + not an infant. The inhabitants of a provincial city demanded of Lord + Palmerston that the angel of pestilence should be stayed by a day of + national prayer and fasting. ‘I will fast with you and pray with + you,’ was the statesman’s answer; ‘but let us also drain, scrub, + wash, and be clean.’” + +If by this taste of the preface to Dr. Acton’s book I induce my male +readers to dip into it for themselves, I shall feel that I have done the +cause the worthy writer has at heart good service. It will be something +if the brief quotation bespeaks attention to the other extracts from the +same genuine source that herein appear. On the subject of seduction and +desertion, Mr. Acton writes: + + “If I could not get imprisonment of the male party to a seduction + substituted for the paltry fine of half-a-crown a-week, I would at + least give to the commonwealth, now liable to a pecuniary damage by + bastardy, some interest in its detection and punishment. The + union-house is now often enough the home of the deserted mother and + the infant bastard; and the guardians of the poor ought, I think, to + have the right, in the interest of the commune, to act as bastardy + police, and to be recouped their charges. I would not allow the + maintenance of an illegitimate child to be at the expense of any but + the father. I would make it the incubus on him, not on its mother; + and I would not leave his detection, exposure, and money loss at the + option of the latter. A young man who has a second and third + illegitimate child, by different women, has not lived without adding + some low cunning to his nature. It often happens that a fellow of + this sort will, for a time, by specious promises and presents to a + girl he fully intends ultimately to desert, defer making any payments + for or on account of her child. If he can for twelve months, and + without entering into any shadow of an agreement (and we may all + guess how far the craft of an injured woman will help her to one that + would hold water), stave-off any application on her part to the + authorities, her claim at law is barred; and she herself, defied at + leisure, becomes in due course chargeable to her parish or union. + But not thus should a virtuous state connive at the obligations of + paternity being shuffled on to its public shoulders, when, by a very + trifling modification of the existing machinery, they might be + adjusted on the proper back, permanently or temporarily, as might be + considered publicly expedient. I would enact, I say, by the help of + society, that, in the first place, the seduction of a female, + properly proved, should involve the male in a heavy pecuniary fine, + according to his position—not at all by way of punishment, but to + strengthen, by the very firm abutment of the breeches-pocket, both + him and his good resolutions against the temptations and force of + designing woman. I would not offer the latter, as I foresee will be + instantaneously objected, this bounty upon sinfulness—this incentive + to be a seducer; but, on the contrary, the money should be due to the + community, and recoverable in the county-court or superior court at + the suit of its engine, the union; and should be invested by the + treasurer of such court, or by the county, or by some public trustee + in bastardy, for the benefit of the mother and child. The child’s + portion of this deodand should be retained by such public officer + until the risk of its becoming chargeable to the community + quasi-bastard should be removed by the mother’s marriage or + otherwise; and the mother’s share should be for her benefit as an + emigration-fund or marriage-portion.” + +“We cannot imagine,” says another authority, “that anyone can seriously +suppose that prostitution would be made either more generally attractive +or respectable by the greater decency and decorum which administrative +supervision would compel it to throw over its exterior. We know that the +absence of these does not deter one of irregular passions from the low +pursuit; and we know, moreover, wherever these are needed for the behoof +of a more scrupulous and refined class of fornicators, they are to be +found. We are convinced also that much of the permanent ruin to the +feelings and character which results from the habit of visiting the +haunts of prostitution is to be attributed to the coarse language and the +brutal manners which prevail there; and that this vice, like many others, +would lose much of its evil by losing all of grossness that is separable +from it. Nor do we fear that the improvement in the _tone_ of +prostitution which would thus result would render its unhappy victims +less anxious to escape from it. Soften its horrors and gild its +loathsomeness as you may, there will always remain enough to revolt all +who are not wholly lost. Much too—everything almost—is gained, if you +can retain _any_ degree of self-respect among the fallen. The more of +this that remains, the greater chance is there of ultimate redemption; it +is always a mistaken and a cruel policy to allow vice to grow desperate +and reckless.” It is for the interest of society at large, as well as +for that of the guilty individual, that we should never break down the +bridge behind such a sinner as the miserable “unfortunate” even. + + + + +V.—The Curse of Drunkenness. + + +CHAPTER XX. +ITS POWER. + + +_The crowning Curse_—_No form of sin or sorrow in which it does not play +a part_—_The_ “_Slippery Stone_” _of Life_—_Statistics_—_Matters not +growing worse_—_The Army Returns_—_The System of Adulteration_. + +WHATEVER differences of opinion may arise as to the extent and evil +operation of the other curses that, in common with all other cities, +afflict the city of London, no sane man will contest the fact that +drunkenness has wrought more mischief than all other social evils put +together. There is not a form of human sin and sorrow in which it does +not constantly play a part. It is the “slippery stone” that in countless +instances has betrayed the foot careless or over-confident, and the +downhill-path is trod never to be retraced. As Dr. Guthrie writes: +“Believe me, it is impossible to exaggerate, impossible even truthfully +to paint, the effect of this evil, either on those who are addicted to it +or on those who suffer from it; crushed husbands, broken-hearted wives, +and, most of all, those poor innocent children that are dying under +cruelty and starvation, that shiver in their rags upon our streets, that +walk unshod the winter snows, and, with their matted hair and hollow +cheeks, and sunken eyes, glare out on us wild and savage-like from +patched and filthy windows. Nor is the curse confined to the lowest +stratum of society. Much improved as are the habits of the upper and +middle classes, the vice may still be met in all classes of society. It +has cost many a servant her place, and yet greater loss—ruined her +virtue; it has broken the bread of many a tradesman; it has spoiled the +coronet of its lustre, and sunk the highest rank into contempt.” + +It is satisfactory, however, to discover that matters are not growing +worse. + +In the number of persons “summarily proceeded against” for divers +offences, we find a steady decrease during the last three years in the +numbers charged with “drunkenness” and being “drunk and disorderly,” the +respective figures being 105,310, 104,368, and 100,357, showing a +diminution in the three years of nearly 5,000 cases per annum. In the +total number of inquests for 1867, viz. 24,648, there is a decrease of +278, as compared with the number in the preceding year. In the verdicts +of murder there is a decrease of 17, and of manslaughter 44, or 19.7 per +cent, following a decrease of 59, or 20.9 per cent, as compared with the +number in 1865. Under “natural death,” as compared with the numbers for +1866, there is a decrease of 51, or 13.6 per cent, in the verdicts “from +excessive drinking,” following a decrease of 12 in 1866, as compared with +the number in 1865. The number of persons committed or bailed for trial +for indictable offences during the year, as shown in the police-returns, +was 19,416, and of these it may be calculated that about 14,562 (75 per +cent being about the usual proportion) would be convicted. To this +number is to be added (in order to show the total number of convictions +during the year) 335,359 summary convictions before the magistrates +(280,196 males and 55,163 females). A large proportion of these cases +were, it is true, for offences of a trifling character. They include, +however, 74,288 cases of “drunkenness” and being “drunk and disorderly” +(59,071 males and 15,217 females), and 10,085 offences against the +Licensed Victuallers’ and Beer Acts, viz. 6,506 by beershop-keepers +(5,792 males and 714 females); 3,258 by licensed victuallers (2,944 males +and 314 females); the remaining 321 (293 males and 28 females) consisting +of other offences under the above Acts. The total number of convictions +for offences against the Refreshment Houses’ Act was 3,032, viz. 2,871 +males and 161 females. + +This as regards civilians and those over whom the police have control. +The army-returns, however, are not so favourable. + +The last annual report of Lieutenant-Colonel Henderson, R.E., the +Inspector-General of Military Prisons, reveals the startling fact that, +“during four years the committals for drunkenness have steadily increased +as follows: 1863, 882; 1864, 1,132; 1865, 1,801; 1866, 1,926.” + +The Inspector-General observes that the explanation of this increase “is +to be found in the fact that soldiers who formerly were summarily +convicted and sentenced to short periods of imprisonment in regimental +cells by their commanding officers for drunkenness are now tried by +court-martial and sentenced to imprisonment in a military prison.” But +precisely the same explanation was given, in the report for the preceding +year, of the increase of the committals in 1865 over those in 1864. +Therefore, however applicable this consideration might have been to a +comparison with former periods when drunkenness was not dealt with by +court-martial, it totally fails to account for the further increase which +has occurred since the change was made. + +It must not be supposed that the 1,926 cases in the year 1866 were cases +of simple drunkenness, such as we see disposed of in the police-courts by +a fine of five shillings. The offence was “habitual drunkenness,” of +which there are several definitions in the military code; but much the +largest portion of the committals are for having been drunk “for the +fourth time within 365 days.” In order, therefore, to form a just idea +of the prevalence of this vice in the army, we must add to the cases +brought before a court-martial the far more numerous instances in which +the offenders are discovered less than four times a year, and are +punished by their commanding officers, or in which they are not +discovered at all. Drunkenness is _the_ vice of the army. The state of +feeling which pervaded society two generations ago still survives in the +army. That species of “good fellowship,” which is only another name for +mutual indulgence in intoxicating drink, is still in the ascendant in the +most popular of English professions, and from this vantage-ground it +exercises an injurious influence over the moral condition of the entire +community. + +The following order, relative to the punishment of drunkenness in the +army, as directed by the Horse Guards, has just been published: + + “First and second acts, admonition or confinement to barracks at the + discretion of the commanding officer. For every subsequent act of + drunkenness within three months of former act, 7_s._ 6_d._; if over + three and within six months, 5_s._; if over six and within nine + months, 2_s._ 6_d._; if over nine and within twelve months, company + entry; if over twelve months, to be treated as the first act. When + the four preceding acts have been committed in twelve months, 2_s._ + 6_d._ to be added to the foregoing amounts, and the _maximum_ daily + stoppage is to be 2_d._” + +Drink, strong drink, is responsible for very much of the misery that +afflicts our social state; but it is scarcely fair to much-abused +Alcohol—a harmless spirit enough except when abused—to attribute to it +all the ruin that flows from the bottle and the public-house gin-tap. +Alcohol has enough to answer for; but there can be no doubt that for one +victim to its intoxicating qualities, two might be reckoned who have +“come to their deathbed” through the various deadly poisons it is the +publican’s custom to mix with his diluted liquors to give them a +fictitious strength and fire. Let us here enumerate a few of the +ingredients with which the beer-shop-keeper re-brews his beer, and the +publican “doctors” his gin and rum and whisky. + +As is well known, the most common way of adulterating beer is by means of +_cocculus indicus_. This is known “in the trade” as “Indian berry,” and +is the fruit of a plant that grows on the coast of Malabar. It is a +small kidney-shaped, rough, and black-looking berry, of a bitter taste, +and of an intoxicating or poisonous quality. It is extensively used to +increase the intoxicating properties of the liquor. + +Fox-glove is a plant with large purple flowers, possessing an intensely +bitter nauseous taste. It is a violent purgative and vomit; produces +languor, giddiness, and even death. It is a poison, and is used on +account of the bitter and intoxicating qualities it imparts to the liquor +among which it is mixed. + +Green copperas, a mineral substance obtained from iron, is much used to +give the porter a frothy top. The green copperas is supposed to give to +porter in the pewter-pot that peculiar flavour which drinkers say is not +to be tasted when the liquor is served in glass. + +Hartshorn shavings are the horns of the common male deer rasped or +scraped down. They are then boiled in the worts of ale, and give out a +substance of a thickisk nature like jelly, which is said to prevent +intoxicating liquor from becoming sour. + +Henbane, a plant of a poisonous nature, bearing a close resemblance to +the narcotic poison, opium. It produces intoxication, delirium, nausea, +vomiting, feverishness, and death, and appears chiefly to be used to +increase the intoxicating properties of intoxicating liquors; or, in +other words, to render them more likely to produce these effects in those +who use these liquors. + +Jalap, the root of a sort of convolvulus, brought from the neighbourhood +of Xalapa, in Mexico, and so called Jalap. It is used as a powerful +purgative in medicine. Its taste is exceedingly nauseous; and is of a +sweetish bitterness. It is used to prevent the intoxicating liquor from +turning sour; and probably to counteract the binding tendency of some of +the other ingredients. + +Multum is a mixture of opium and other ingredients, used to increase the +intoxicating qualities of the liquor. + +Nut-galls are excrescences produced by the attacks of a small insect on +the tender shoots of a tree which grows in Asia, Syria, and Persia. They +are of a bitter taste, and are much used in dyeing. They are also used +to colour or fine the liquor. + +Nux vomica is the seed of a plant all parts of which are of a bitter and +poisonous nature. The seeds of this plant are found in the fruit, which +is about the size of an orange. The seeds are about an inch round and +about a quarter of an inch thick. They have no smell. It is a violent +narcotic acrid poison, and has been used very extensively in the +manufacture of intoxicating ale, beer, and porter. + +Opium is the thickened juice of the white poppy, which grows most +abundantly in India, though it also grows in Britain. It is the most +destructive of narcotic poisons, and it is the most intoxicating. It has +been most freely used in the manufacture of intoxicating liquors, because +its very nature is to yield a larger quantity of intoxicating matter than +any other vegetable. + +Oil of vitriol, or sulphuric acid, is a mineral poison of a burning +nature. In appearance it is oily and colourless, and has no smell. It +is used to increase the heating qualities of liquor. + +Potash is made from vegetables mixed with quicklime, boiled down in pots +and burnt—the ashes remaining after the burning being the potash. It is +used to prevent the beer souring, or to change it, if it has become sour. + +Quassia is the name of a tree which grows in America and the West Indies. +Both the wood and the fruit are of an intensely bitter taste. It is used +instead of hops to increase the bitter in the liquor. + +Wormwood is a plant or flower with downy leaves, and small round-headed +flowers. The seed of this plant has bitter and stimulating qualities, +and is used to increase the exciting and intoxicating qualities of +liquors. + +Yew tops, the produce of the yew-tree. The leaves are of an extremely +poisonous nature, and so are the tops, or berries and seeds. It is used +to increase the intoxicating properties of the liquors. + +The quantities of cocculus-indicus berries, as well as of black extract, +brought into this country for adulterating malt liquors, are enormous. +The berries in question are ostensibly destined for the use of tanners +and dyers. Most of the articles are transmitted to the consumer in their +disguised state, or in such a form that their real nature cannot possibly +be detected by the unwary. An extract, said to be innocent, sold in +casks containing from half a cwt. to five cwt. by the brewers’ druggists, +under the name of “bittern,” is composed of calcined sulphate of iron +(copperas), extract of cocculus-indicus berries, extract of quassia and +Spanish liquorice. This fraud constitutes by far the most censurable +offence committed by unprincipled brewers. + +To both ale and porter an infusion of hops is added, and in general +porter is more highly hopped than ale. New ale and porter, which are +free from acid, are named mild; those which have been kept for some time, +and in which acid is developed, are called hard. Some prefer hard beer; +and to suit this taste, the publicans are accustomed, when necessary, to +convert mild beer into hard by a summary and simple process, to wit, the +addition of sulphuric acid. Again, others prefer mild beer; and the +publicans, when their supply of this is low, and they have an abundance +of old or hard beer, convert the latter into mild, by adding to it soda, +potash, carbonate of lime, &c. Various other adulterations are +practised. The narcotic quality of hop is replaced by cocculus indicus; +sweetness and colour by liquorice (an innocent fraud); thickness by +lint-seed; a biting pungency by caraway-seed and cayenne-pepper. Quassia +is also said to be used, with the latter view. Treacle is likewise +employed to give sweetness and consistency; while to give beer a frothy +surface, sulphate of iron and alum are had recourse to. Such is the +wholesome beverage of which nine-tenths of the English people daily +partake! + +Nor is the more aristocratic and expensive liquid that assumes the name +of wine exempt from the “doctor’s” manipulations. Mr. Cyrus Redding, in +his evidence before a select committee, describes the mode by which wines +are made by manufacturers in London. He stated that brandy cowl—that is, +washings of brandy-casks—colouring, probably made of elder-berries, +logwood, salt-of-tartar, gum-dragon, tincture of red sanders or cudbear, +were extensively used in preparing an article which sells as port. The +entire export of port-wine is 20,000 pipes, and yet 60,000, as given in +evidence, are annually consumed in this country. As regards champagne, +the same authority says, “In England, champagne has been made from white +and raw sugar, crystallised lemon or tartaric acid, water, homemade +grape-wine, or perry, and French brandy. Cochineal or strawberries have +been added to imitate the pinks. Such a mixture at country balls or +dinners passes off very well; but no one in the habit of drinking the +genuine wine can be deceived by the imposition. The bouquet of real +champagne, which is so peculiar, it is repeated, cannot be imitated—it is +a thing impossible. Acidity in wine was formerly corrected in this +country by the addition of quicklime, which soon falls to the bottom of +the cask. This furnished a clue to Falstaff’s observation, that there +was ‘lime in the sack,’ which was a hit at the landlord, as much as to +say his wine was little worth, having its acidity thus disguised. As to +the substances used by various wine-doctors for flavouring wine, there +seems to be no end of them. Vegetation has been exhausted, and the +bowels of the earth ransacked, to supply trash for this quackery. Wines +under the names of British madeira, port, and sherry are also made, the +basis of which is pale salt, sugar-candy; French brandy and port-wine are +added to favour the deception. So impudently and notoriously are the +frauds avowed, that there are books published called _Publicans’ Guides_, +and _Licensed Victuallers’ Director’s_, in which the most infamous +receipts imaginable are laid down to swindle their customers. The +various docks on the Thames do not secure purchasers from the +malpractices of dishonest dealers; in this many are deceived. It has +been naturally, yet erroneously, imagined that wine purchased in the +docks must be a pure article. Malaga sherry is constantly shipped to +England for the real sherry of Xeres, Figueras for port, and so on. +Port-wine being sent from the place of its growth to Guernsey and Jersey, +and there reshipped, with the original quantity tripled for the English +market, the docks are no security.” + +Professor C. A. Lee, of New York, informs us that “a cheap Madeira is +made by extracting the oils from common whisky, and passing it through +carbon. There are immense establishments in this city where the whisky +is thus turned into wine. In some of those devoted to this branch of +business, the whisky is rolled-in in the evening, but the wine goes out +in the broad daylight, ready to defy the closest inspection. A grocer, +after he had abandoned the nefarious traffic in adulterations, assured me +that he had often purchased whisky one day of a country merchant, and +before he left town sold the same whisky back to him turned into wine, at +a profit of from 400 to 500 per cent. The trade in empty wine-casks in +this city with the Custom-house mark and certificate is immense; the same +casks being replenished again and again, and always accompanied by that +infallible test of genuineness, the Custom-house certificate. I have +heard of a pipe being sold for twelve dollars. There is in the +neighbourhood of New York an extensive manufactory of wine-casks, which +are made so closely to imitate the foreign as to deceive experienced +dealers. The Custom-house marks are easily counterfeited, and +certificates are never wanting. I have heard,” said Dr. Lee, “dealers +relate instances in which extensive stores were filled by these +artificial wines; and when merchants from the country asked for genuine +wines, these have been sold them as such, assuring them there could be no +doubt of their purity. It is believed,” he observes, “that the annual +importation of what is called port-wine into the United States far +exceeds the whole annual produce of the Alto-Douro.” + +Mr. James Forrester, an extensive grower of wines in the Alto-Douro and +other districts of the north of Portugal, and another witness, stated +that there was a mixture called jeropiga, composed of two-thirds ‘must,’ +or grape-juice, and one-third brandy, and which brandy is about twenty +per cent above British brandy-proof, used for bringing up character in +ports. He further declared that sweetening-matter, in every variety, and +elder-berry dye, is administered for the purpose of colouring it and +giving it a body. Moreover, Mr. Forrester testified that, by the present +Portuguese law, _no unsophisticated port-wine is allowed to reach this +country_. “If any further colouring-matter be absolutely requisite by +the speculator—I would not suppose by the merchants (for the merchants +generally do not like, unless they are obliged, to sell very common +wines, and do not like to have recourse to these practices)—then the +elder-berry is, I believe, the only dye made use of in this country, and +_costs an enormous lot of money_.” + +Dr. Munroe of Hull, the author of _The Physiological Action of Alcohol_, +and other scientific works, gives evidence as follows of the danger +attending the use of alcoholic drinks as medicine: + + “I will relate a circumstance which occurred to me some years ago, + the result of which made a deep impression on my mind. I was not + then a teetotaler—would that I had been!—but I conscientiously, + though erroneously, believed in the health-restoring properties of + stout. A hard-working, industrious, God-fearing man, a teetotaler of + some years’ standing, suffering from an abscess in his hand, which + had reduced him very much, applied to me for advice. I told him the + only medicine he required was rest; and to remedy the waste going on + in his system, and to repair the damage done to his hand, he was to + support himself with a bottle of stout daily. He replied, ‘I cannot + take it, for I have been some years a teetotaler.’ ‘Well,’ I said, + ‘if you know better than the doctor, it is no use applying to me.’ + Believing, as I did then, that the drink would really be of service + to him, I urged him to take the stout as a medicine, which would not + interfere with his pledge. He looked anxiously in my face, evidently + weighing the matter over in his mind, and sorrowfully replied, + ‘Doctor, I was a drunken man once; I should not like to be one + again.’ + + “He was, much against his will, prevailed on to take the stout, and + in time he recovered from his sickness. When he got well, I of + course praised up the virtues of stout as a means of saving his life, + for which he ought ever to be thankful; and rather lectured him on + being such a fanatic (that’s the word) as to refuse taking a bottle + of stout daily to restore him to his former health. I lost sight of + my patient for some months; but I am sorry to say that on one fine + summer’s day, when driving through one of our public thoroughfares, I + saw a poor, miserable, ragged-looking man leaning against the door of + a common public-house drunk, and incapable of keeping an erect + position. Even in his poverty, drunkenness, and misery, I discovered + it was my teetotal patient whom I had, not so long ago, persuaded to + break his pledge. I could not be mistaken. I had reason to know him + well, for he had been a member of a Methodist church; an + indefatigable Sunday-school teacher; a prayer-leader whose earnest + appeals for the salvation of others I had often listened to with + pleasure and edification. I immediately went to the man, and was + astonished to find the change which drink in so short a time had + worked in his appearance. With manifest surprise, and looking + earnestly at the poor wretch, I said, ‘S—, is that you?’ With a + staggering reel, and clipping his words, he answered, ‘Yes, it’s me. + Look at me again. Don’t you know me?’ ‘Yes, I know you,’ I said, + ‘and am grieved to see you in this drunken condition. I thought you + were a teetotaler?’ + + “With a peculiar grin upon his countenance, he answered, ‘I was + before I took your medicine.’ ‘I am sorry to see you disgracing + yourself by such conduct. I am ashamed of you.’ Rousing himself, as + drunken people will at times, to extraordinary effort, he scoffingly + replied, ‘Didn’t you send me here for my medicine?’ and with a + delirious kind of chuckle he hiccupped out words I shall never + forget. ‘Doctor, your medicine cured my body, but it damned my + soul!’ + + “Two or three of his boozing companions, hearing our conversation, + took him under their protection, and I left him. As I drove away, my + heart was full of bitter reflections, that I had been the cause of + ruining this man’s prospects, not only of this world, but of that + which is to come. + + “You may rest assured I did not sleep much that night. The drunken + aspect of that man haunted me, and I found myself weeping over the + injury I had done him. I rose up early the next morning and went to + his cottage, with its little garden in front, on the outskirts of the + town, where I had often seen him with his wife and happy children + playing about, but found, to my sorrow, that he had removed some time + ago. At last, with some difficulty, I found him located in a low + neighbourhood, not far distant from the public-house he had + patronised the day before. Here, in such a home as none but the + drunkard could inhabit, I found him laid upon a bed of straw, + feverish and prostrate from the previous day’s debauch, abusing his + wife because she could not get him some more drink. She, standing + aloof with tears in her eyes, broken down with care and grief, her + children dirty and clothed in rags, all friendless and steeped in + poverty! What a wreck was there! + + “Turned out of the church in which he was once an ornament, his + religion sacrificed, his usefulness marred, his hopes of eternity + blasted, now a poor dejected slave to his passion for drink, without + mercy and without hope! + + “I talked to him kindly, reasoned with him, succoured him till he was + well, and never lost sight of him or let him have any peace until he + had signed the _pledge_ again. + + “It took him some time to recover his place in the church; but I have + had the happiness of seeing him restored. He is now more than ever a + devoted worker in the church; and the cause of temperance is pleaded + on all occasions. + + “Can you wonder, then, that I never order strong drink for a patient + now?” + +One of the most terrible results of hard drinking is that kind of +insanity that takes the name of “delirium tremens;” and its +characteristic symptoms may be described as follows: Muscular +tremors—more especially of the hands and of the tongue when +protruded—along with complete sleeplessness, and delirium of a muttering, +sight-seeing, bustling, abrupt, anxious, apprehensive kind. The +afflicted patient has not the ability to follow out a train of thought, +to explain fully an illusion or perverted sensation, or to perform any +act correctly; for he may be one moment rational and the next incoherent, +now conscious of his real condition and of surrounding realities, and +then again suddenly excited by the most ridiculous fancies—principally of +a spectral kind—such as strange visitors in the shape of human beings, +devils, cats, rats, snakes, &c.; or by alarming occurrences, such as +robberies, fires, pursuits for crimes, and the like. He is easily +pleased and satisfied by gentleness and indulgence, and much fretted and +agitated by restraint and opposition. The face is generally of a pale +dirty colour and wearing an anxious expression; eyes startled but +lustreless, sometimes considerably suffused, and the pupils not +contracted unless considerable doses of opium have been administered, or +very decided arachnitic symptoms have supervened; skin warm and moist, +often perspiring copiously; tongue sometimes loaded, but generally pale +and moist, occasionally remarkably clean; appetite small, but the patient +will often take whatever is presented to him; thirst by no means urgent, +and seldom or never any craving for spirituous liquors; urine scanty and +high-coloured, and, in some cases which Dr. Munroe (from whose volume +this description is derived) tested, containing a large quantity of +albumen, which, however, disappears immediately after the paroxysm is +over; alvine evacuations bilious and offensive; and the pulse generally +ranges from 98 to 120, generally soft, but of various degrees of fulness +and smallness, according to the strength of the patient and the stage of +the affection. The precursory symptoms are by no means peculiar or +pathognomonic, but common to many febrile affections, implicating the +sensorium in the way of repeatedly-disturbed and sleepless nights, with +perhaps more of a hurried and agitated manner than usual for some days +previously. The paroxysm which is distinguished by the phenomena above +described—occurring with remarkable uniformity, independently of age and +constitution—usually runs its course, if uncomplicated and properly +treated, on the second or third day, though sometimes earlier, and it +seldom extends beyond the fifth day. It then terminates in a profound +natural sleep, which may continue for many hours, and from which, if it +even lasts for six hours, the patient awakes weak and languid, but quite +coherent. The casualties of the disease are convulsions or coma, which, +if not immediately fatal, are apt to leave the sufferer a wreck for the +remainder of life. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. +ATTEMPTS TO ARREST IT. + + +_The Permissive Liquors Bill_—_Its Advocates and their Arguments_—_The +Drunkenness of the Nation_—_Temperance Facts and Anecdotes_—_Why the +Advocates of Total Abstinence do not make more headway_—_Moderate +Drinking_—_Hard Drinking_—_The Mistake about childish Petitioners_. + +THERE has recently appeared on the temperance stage a set of well-meaning +gentlemen, who, could they have their way, though they would sweep every +public-house and beershop from the face of the land, are yet good-natured +enough to meet objectors to their extreme views a “third” if not +“half-way.” Sir Wilfred Lawson is the acknowledged head and champion of +the party, and its news on the all-important subject are summed up in a +Permissive Prohibitory Liquor Bill. It may be mentioned that the said +Bill was rejected in the House of Commons by a very large majority, and +is therefore, for the present, shelved. It stands, however, as an +expression of opinion on the part of eighty-seven members of parliament, +backed by 3,337 petitions, more or less numerously signed, from various +parts of the kingdom, as to what should be done to check the advancing +curse of drunkenness, and, as such, its merits may be here discussed. + +The Permissive Prohibitory Liquors Bill, as Sir Wilfred Lawson describes +it, provides that no public-houses shall be permitted in any district, +provided that two-thirds of its population agree that they should be +dispensed with. If there are thirty thousand inhabitants of a parish, +and twenty thousand of them should be of opinion that public-houses are a +nuisance that should be abolished, the remaining ten thousand may +grumble, but they must submit, and either go athirst or betake themselves +to an adjoining and more generous parish. + +Sir W. Lawson, in moving the second reading of his Bill, said “that no +statistics were needed to convince the House of Commons of the amount of +drunkenness, and consequent poverty and crime, existing in this country; +and even if here and there drunkenness might be diminishing, that did not +affect his argument, which rested upon the fact that drunkenness in +itself was a fertile and admitted source of evil. The Bill was called a +‘Permissive Bill;’ but had the rules of the House permitted, it might +with truth be called a Bill for the Repression of Pauperism and of Crime. +The measure was no doubt unpopular in the House, but it was a consolation +to him that, although honourable members differed in opinion as to the +efficacy of the remedy proposed, they all sympathised with the object its +promoters had in view. The trouble to which he feared honourable members +had been put during the last few days in presenting petitions and +answering letters showed the depth and intensity of the interest taken in +the question out of doors. No less than 3,337 petitions had been +presented in favour of the Bill. It would be remembered that in the +parliament before last a bill similar in its character had been defeated +by an overwhelming majority, all the prominent speakers in opposition to +it at that time declaring that they based their hopes as to the +diminution of drunkenness upon the spread of education. He agreed in +that opinion, but the education, to be successful, must be of the right +sort; and while an army of schoolmasters and clergyman were engaged in +teaching the people what was good, their efforts, he feared, were greatly +counteracted by that other army of 150,000 publicans and beersellers +encouraging the people to drinking habits. All these dealers in drink +had been licensed and commissioned by the Government, and were paid by +results; they had, consequently, a direct pecuniary interest in promoting +the consumption of as large an amount of drink as possible. Naturally, +if a man entered into a trade, he wished to do as large a trade as +possible; and he had always felt that the advocates of temperance did +more harm than good in using hard language against the beersellers, when +it was the law which enabled them to engage in the trade, which was +primarily responsible for the result.” + +The honourable member explained that the Bill did not in any way +interfere with or touch the licensing system as at present existing; +where it was the wish of the inhabitants that licenses should be granted, +licenses would continue to be granted as at present. But what the +measure sought to do was, to empower the inhabitants of a neighbourhood, +or the great majority of them, to vote within that neighbourhood the +granting of any licenses at all—to crystallise public opinion, as it +were, into law. The first objection that had been taken to the measure +was, that it would be impossible to carry out prohibition in England; but +why should that be impossible in this country which had been successfully +carried out in America, in Canada, and in Nova Scotia? All he had to say +upon the revenue question was, that no amount of revenue to be derived +from the sale of intoxicating drinks should be allowed for a moment to +weigh against the general welfare of the people; and that, if the present +Bill were passed, such a mass of wealth would accumulate in the pockets +of the people, that the Chancellor of the Exchequer would meet with no +difficulty in obtaining ample funds for carrying on the government of the +country. It was further objected that great inconvenience would be +inflicted upon the minority by the operation of the Bill; but there, +again, the balance of advantage and disadvantage must be looked at, and +the convenience of the few should not be allowed to counterbalance the +benefit that would be conferred upon the great mass of the people. Then +it was said that every year there would be a great fight upon the +question; but was not an annual moral contest better than nightly +physical conflicts at the doors of the public-houses? The movement in +favour of prohibiting the sale of liquor had proceeded from the poor, and +it had been supported by what he might call the aristocracy of the +working-classes. He asked the House whether it would not be wise, when +the future of this country must be in the hands of the working-classes, +to pay some attention to their demand for a straightforward measure of +this sort, which was intended to put an end to an acknowledged evil of +great magnitude. + +“What,” says the _Times_, when commenting on Sir Wilfred Lawson’s +argument, “would it matter to Sir Wilfred Lawson, or to any of the +gentlemen who figure on the temperance platform, if all the public-houses +of their districts were closed to-morrow? Their own personal comfort +would be in no way affected; not one of them probably enters a +public-house, except at canvassing times, from one year’s end to another. +But it would matter a great deal to those humbler and poorer classes of +the population who make daily use of the public-house. If it were +closed, their comfort would be most materially affected. A large +proportion of them use strong liquor without abusing it, and have +therefore as much right to it, both legal and moral, as they have to +their meat or clothes. Many of them could not get through the work by +which they gain their own and their children’s bread without it; and +their only means of procuring it is provided by the present public-house +system. They have not usually capital enough to lay in for themselves a +stock of liquor; and even if they had, this plan would be not only +wasteful and inconvenient, but would tempt them to commit the very crime +which it was employed to avoid. They find it both cheaper and more +comfortable to get their liquor in small quantities as they want it, and +they can only do this at a public-house. Besides, it should not be +forgotten—though well-to-do reformers are very apt, from their +inexperience, to forget it—that to many of these poor people living in +overcrowded, ill-ventilated, ill-lighted rooms, the public-house is the +only place in which they can enjoy a quiet evening in pleasant, and +perhaps instructive, intercourse with their neighbours after a hard day’s +work. To drive them from this genial place of resort would be in some +cases almost as great a hardship as it would be to the rich man to turn +him out of both private house and club. We shall perhaps be told that +all this may be true, but that the question reduces itself to a choice of +evils, and that, on the whole, much more misery results to the poorer +classes from the use of the public-house than would result if they were +deprived of it. But, even if we grant this for the sake of argument, it +seems to us strangely unjust to debar one man forcibly from a privilege +at once pleasant and profitable to him, simply because another abuses it. +The injustice, too, is greatly heightened by the fact that those who take +the most prominent and influential part in debarring him feel nothing of +the suffering they inflict.” + +Following Sir Wilfred Lawson in the House of Commons came Mr. Besley, who +declared that something like one hundred millions sterling was annually +expended in this country in intoxicating drinks; and in our prisons, our +lunatic asylums, and our workhouses, large numbers of the victims of +intemperate indulgence in those drinks were always to be found. Mr. +Besley believed that the present mode of restricting the sale of liquors +was anything but a satisfactory one. In this respect the people would be +the best judges of their own wants—of what their own families and their +own neighbourhoods required; and he believed that if the decision was +placed in their hands, as it would be by this Bill, the evils of +intoxication would be very much mitigated. He did not entertain the hope +that we should ever make people sober by Act of Parliament, but he did +believe that it was in the power of the Legislature to diminish the evil +to a very great extent. Supposing the expenditure on intoxicating drinks +were reduced one-half, how usefully might not the fifty millions thus +saved be employed in the interests of the poor themselves! He believed +that dwellings for the poor would be among the first works undertaken +with that money. For fifty millions they might erect 250,000 dwellings, +costing 200_l._ each, and this was an expenditure which would cause an +increased demand for labour in a variety of trades. + +I cannot do better than wind up these brief extracts by reproducing the +loudly-applauded objections of the Home Secretary, Mr. Bruce, to the +Permissive Prohibitory Liquor Bill. + + “The most complete remedy for drunkenness was to be found in the + cultivation among the people of a better appreciation of their own + interests, rather than in legislation. This had undoubtedly been the + cause of the almost complete disappearance of drunkenness among the + upper classes, coupled with an increased desire for and consequent + supply of intellectual amusement among them. But, although education + in its largest sense was the true remedy for drunkenness, there was + no reason against the introduction of repressive or preventive + measures in behalf of those in our manufacturing districts, + especially that large class irregularly employed and often + oscillating between starvation and occasional well-doing, to whom + drunkenness was a refuge from despair. The question was, in whom + should the power of restriction be reposed? Some thought in the + resident ratepayers, others in the magistrates, and others in a body + elected for the purpose. He could not say which proposal should be + adopted, but confessed that there was some reason in the demand, that + the number of public-houses should be uniformly regulated according + to the population. He had been asked whether he would undertake to + deal with the matter. To deal with the matter in the manner proposed + by the honourable baronet would at once deprive some portion of the + people of means of enjoyment, and the owners of public-houses of + their property. That would be a proceeding unnecessary and unjust, + because, although the admitted evils of drunkenness were very + grievous, there was no doubt that public-houses, especially when well + managed, really did furnish to a large portion of the people a means + of social comfort and enjoyment. His objection to the Bill was, that + it would not only cause a great deal of disturbance in many parts of + the country, but would almost inevitably cause riot. Certainly the + rigorous treatment proposed by the Bill was unsuited to people whose + only pleasures were sensuous. The honourable member proposed that a + majority of two-thirds of the ratepayers of a borough should be able + to put the Bill in operation; but in this proposal he ignored a large + proportion of those most interested. Two-thirds of the ratepayers + left much more than one-third of the population on the other side, + and the more important portion of the population as regards this + matter, because it was made up in a great measure by those who lived + in all the discomfort of lodgings. Again, it was suggested that the + settlement of the question might in each case be left to a majority + of the population; but here, again, it might be said that the + question would probably be decided by a majority of persons least + interested in the question—interested, that was, only as regards + peace and order, and careless how far the humbler classes of society + were deprived of their pleasure. What the Legislature had to do was, + not to deprive the people of means of innocent enjoyment, but to + prevent that means being used to foster crime and gross + self-indulgence.” + +However much one might feel disposed, in the main, to agree with Sir +Wilfred Lawson and his colleagues, it is not easy to grant him the +position he assumes at the commencement of his argument, that “statistics +are unnecessary.” It is a singular fact, and one that everyone taking an +interest in the great and important question of the drunkenness of the +nation must have noticed, that amongst the advocates of total-abstinence +principles “statistics” invariably are regarded as “unnecessary.” This +undoubtedly is a grave mistake, and one more likely than any other to +cast a deeper shade of distrust over the minds of doubters. It would +seem either that the great evil in question is so difficult of access in +its various ramifications as to defy the efforts of the statistician, or +else that total abstainers, as a body, are imbued with the conviction +that the disasters arising from the consumption of intoxicating drinks +are so enormous, and widespread, and universally acknowledged, that it +would be a mere waste of time to bring forward figures in proof. +Perhaps, again, the drunkard is such a very unsavoury subject, that the +upright water-drinker, pure alike in mind and body, has a repugnance to +so close a handling of him. If this last forms any part of the reason +why the question of beer-drinking _v._ water-drinking should not be laid +before us as fairly and fully as two and two can make it, the objectors +may be referred to social subjects of a much more repulsive kind, +concerning which many noble and large-hearted gentlemen courageously busy +themselves, and studiously inquire into, with a view to representing them +exactly as they are discovered. In proof of this, the reader is referred +to the sections of this book that are devoted to the consideration of +Professional Thieves, and of Fallen Women. + +There can be no question that, in a matter that so nearly affects the +domestic economy of a people, statistics are not only necessary but +indispensable. No man’s word should be taken for granted, where so much +that is important is involved. The man may be mistaken; but there is no +getting away from figures. A man, in his righteous enthusiasm, may +exaggerate even, but a square old-fashioned 4 can never be exaggerated +into a 5, or a positive 1 be so twisted by plausible argument as to +falsely represent 2. Yet, somehow, those who urge even so complete a +revolution in the ancient and sociable habit of drinking as to make it +dependent on the will of Brown and Robinson whether their neighbour Jones +shall partake of a pint of beer out of the publican’s bright pewter, +afford us no figures in support of their extreme views. + +Nor is this deficiency observable only in those unaccustomed persons who +mount the platform to make verbal statements, and with whom the handling +of large and complicated numbers might be found inconvenient. Practised +writers on teetotalism exhibit the same carelessness. I have before me +at the present moment a goodly number of total-abstinence volumes, but +not one furnishes the desired information. Among my books I find, first, +John Gough’s _Orations_; but that able and fervent man, although he +quotes by the score instances and examples that are enough to freeze the +blood and make the hair stand on end of the horrors that arise from +indulgence in alcoholic drinks, deals not in statistics. Dr. James +Miller writes an excellent treatise on alcohol and its power; but he +deals in generalities, and not in facts that figures authenticate. Here +is a volume containing a _Thousand Temperance Facts and Anecdotes_; but +in the whole thousand, not one of either tells us of how many customers, +on a certain evening, visited a single and well-used public-house, went +in sober, and came out palpably drunk. It would be coming to the point, +if such information—quite easy to obtain—was set before us. Lastly, I +have the _Temperance Cyclopædia_. Now, I thought, I am sure, in some +shape or another, to find here what I seek; but I searched in vain. The +volume in question is a bulky volume, and contains about seven hundred +pages, in small close type. In it you may read all about the physical +nature of intemperance, and the intellectual nature of intemperance, and +of the diseases produced by the use of alcohol, and of the progress of +intemperance amongst the ancient Greeks and Romans, together with the +history and origin of the teetotal cause in America; but as to the number +of drunkards brought before the magistrates and fined, or of the number +of crimes shown at the time of trial to have been committed through +drunkenness, the _Cyclopædia_ is dumb. This last is an oversight the +more to be deplored because we very well know that if the said numbers +were exhibited, they would make a very startling display. It may be +urged that, since we already have the testimony of magistrates, and +jail-governors, and judges, of the enormous amount of crime that is +attributable to strong drinks, it is unreasonable to ask for more; but +this objection may be fairly met by the answer, that magistrates +themselves, even when discussing the temperance question, occasionally +make unreasonable remarks; as did a metropolitan magistrate the other +day, who in open court declared, that “if publicans were compelled to +shut up their shops, there would be no further use for his.” He must +have known better. If it were as the worthy magistrate stated, it was +equivalent to saying that teetotalers never appeared at his bar; but I +think that he would hardly have ventured to that length. + +In my belief, it is the tremendous steam and effervescence of language +indulged in by the advocates of total abstinence that keeps them from +making more headway. The facts they give us, like the drunkard’s grog, +are generally “hot and strong,” though with very, _very_ little of the +sugar of forbearance. I find, for instance, in the temperance records +before me, frequent allusion to the great number of drunkards who nightly +are thrown out at the doors of public-houses where they have been passing +the evening, and left to wallow in the kennel. Not only do we read of +this in books, we have it from the mouths of preachers in the pulpit, and +speakers on public platforms and in temperance lecture-halls. But I +venture to declare that whoever believes anything of the kind, believes +what is not true. Every man has a right to speak according to his +experience; and I speak from mine. I think that I may lay claim to as +extensive a knowledge of the ways of London—especially the bye and ugly +ways—as almost any man; and I can positively say that it has never once +been my lot to witness the throwing (“throwing” is the expression) of a +man from a public-house-door, followed by his helpless wallowing in the +kennel. What is more, it was by no means necessary for me to witness +such a hideous and disgusting spectacle to convince me of the evils of +intemperance, and of how necessary it was to reform the existing laws as +applying to the reckless granting of licenses in certain neighbourhoods. +It is quite enough, more than enough, to satisfy me of what a terrible +curse a bestial indulgence in gin and beer is, when I see a human +creature turned helpless from the public-house, and left to stagger home +as he best may. To my eyes, he is then no better than a pig; and if he +took to wallowing in the gutter, it would be no more than one might +expect; but he does _not_ “wallow in the gutter;” and it is not necessary +to picture him in that wretched predicament in order to bring home to the +decent mind how terrible a bane strong drink is, or to shock the man +already inclined to inebriation into at once rushing off to a teetotal +club and signing the pledge. + +And now I must be permitted to remark that no man more than myself can +have a higher appreciation of the efforts of those who make it the duty +of their lives to mitigate the curse of drunkenness. What vexes me is, +the wrong-headed, and not unfrequently the weak and ineffectual, way in +which they set about it. As I view the matter, the object of the +preacher of total abstinence is not so much the reclamation of the +drunkard already steeped and sodden, as the deterring from reckless +indulgence those who are not averse to stimulative liquors, but are by no +means drunkards. Therefore they appeal as a rule to men who are in the +enjoyment of their sober senses, and in a condition to weigh with a +steady mind the arguments that are brought forward to induce them to +abandon alcoholic stimulants altogether. Now, it must be plain to these +latter—sound-headed men, who drink beer, not because they are anxious to +experience the peculiar sensations of intoxication, but because they +conscientiously believe that they are the better for drinking it—it must +be evident to these that teetotal triumphs, exhibited in the shape of +converted drunkards, are at best but shallow affairs. “Any port in a +storm,” is the wrecked mariner’s motto; and no doubt the wretched +drunkard, with his poor gin-rotted liver, and his palsied limbs, and his +failing brain, with perhaps a touch of _delirium tremens_ to spur him on, +might be glad, indeed, to escape to a teetotal harbour of refuge; and it +is not to be wondered at, if, reclaimed from the life of a beast and +restored to humanity, he rejoices, and is anxious to publish aloud the +glad story of his redemption. As a means of convincing the working man +of the wrong he commits in drinking a pint of fourpenny, the upholder of +total-abstinence principles delights to bring forth his “brand from the +burning”—the reclaimed drunkard—and get him, with a glibness that +repetition insures, to detail the particulars of his previous horrible +existence—how he drank, how he swore, how he blasphemed, how he broke up +his home, and brutally ill-treated his wife and children. All this, that +he may presently arrive at the climax, and say, “This I have been, and +_now_ look at me! I have a black coat instead of a ragged fustian +jacket; my shirt-collar is whiter and more rigid in its purity even than +your own. See what teetotalism has done for me, and adopt the course I +adopted, and sign the pledge.” + +To which the indulger in moderate and honest four-penny replies, “I see +exactly what teetotalism has done for you, and you can’t be too grateful +for it; but there is no demand for it to do so much for me. If I was +afire, as you say that you once were, and blazing in the consuming flames +of drunkenness,—to use your own powerful language—no doubt I should be as +glad as you were to leap into the first water-tank that presented itself. +But I am not blazing and consuming. I am no more than comfortably warm +under the influence of the pint of beer I have just partaken of; and +though I am glad indeed to see _you_ in the tank, if you have no +objection, I will for the present keep outside of it.” + +Again, from the tone adopted by certain total-abstinence professors, +people who are compelled to take such matters on hearsay—the very people, +by the way, who would be most likely, “for his good,” to join the +majority of two-thirds that is to shut up taverns—would be made to +believe that those who frequent the public-house are drunkards as a rule; +that though occasionally a few, who have not at present dipped very deep +in the hideous vice, may be discovered in the parlour and the taproom +bemusing themselves over their beer, the tavern is essentially the resort +of the man whose deliberate aim and intention is to drink until be is +tipsy, and who does do so. The moderate man—the individual who is in the +habit of adjourning to the decent tavern-parlour, which is his “club,” to +pass away an hour before supper-time with a pipe and a pint of ale and +harmless chat with his friends—is well aware of this exaggerated view of +his doings; and it is hardly calculated to soften his heart towards those +who would “reform” him, or incline him to listen with any amount of +patience to their arguments. He feels indignant, knowing the imputation +to be untrue. He is not a drunkard, and he has no sympathy with +drunkards. Nay, he would be as forward as his teetotal detractor, and +quite as earnest, in persuading the wretched reckless swiller of beer and +gin to renounce his bestial habit. It is a pity that so much +misunderstanding and misrepresentation should exist on so important a +feature of the matter in debate, when, with so little trouble, it might +be set at rest. If public-houses are an evil, it must be mainly because +the indolent and the sensual resort thither habitually for convenience of +drinking until they are drunk. Is this so? I have no hesitation in +saying that in the vast majority of cases it is not. The question might +easily be brought to the test; and why has it not been done? Let a +hundred public-houses in the metropolis be selected at random, and as +many impartial and trustworthy men be deputed to keep watch on the said +public-houses every night for a week. Let them make note particularly of +those who are not dram-drinkers, but who go to the public-house for the +purpose of passing an hour or so there; let them mark their demeanour +when they enter and again when they emerge; and I have no doubt that, by +a large majority, the working man in search simply of an hour’s evening +amusement and sociable society will be acquitted of anything approaching +sottishness, or such an inclination towards mere tipsiness even, as calls +for the intervention of the Legislature. + +And now, while we are on the subject of statistics, and the peculiar +influences it is the custom of the total abstainer to bring to bear +against his erring brother the moderate drinker, I may mention what +appears to me the highly objectionable practice of enlisting the +cooperation of boys and girls—mere little children—in the interest of +their cause. In the parliamentary discussion on the Permissive +Prohibitory Liquor Bill, Colonel Jervis remarked, on the subject of the +3,337 petitions that were presented in its support: “I do not know +whether the petitions that have been presented in its favour are properly +signed; but certainly I have seen attached to one of those petitions +which come from my neighbourhood names that I do not recognise. The +signatures might, perhaps, be those of Sunday-school children; but I do +not think that petitions from children should carry a Bill of this kind.” +Were it any other business but teetotal business, one might feel disposed +to pass by as meaningless the hint conveyed in Colonel Jervis’s words. +None but those, however, who are conversant with the strange methods +total abstainers will adopt to gain their ends will be inclined to attach +some weight to them. The children are a weapon of great strength in the +hands of the teetotal. Almost as soon as they begin to lisp, they are +taught sentences condemnatory of the evils that arise from an indulgence +in strong drink; soon as they are able to write, their names appear on +the voluminous roll of total abstainers. At their feasts and picnics +they carry banners, on which is inscribed their determination to refrain +from what they have never tasted; and over their sandwiches Tommy Tucker, +in his first breeches, pledges Goody Twoshoes in a glass from the crystal +spring, and expresses his intention of dying as he has lived—a total +abstainer. I am not a bachelor, but a man long married, and with a +“troop of little children at my knee,” as numerous, perhaps, as that +which gathered about that of “John Brown,” immortalised in song. But I +must confess that I do chafe against children of a teetotal tendency one +occasionally is introduced to. I have before made allusion to a +recently-published volume entitled _A Thousand Temperance Facts and +Anecdotes_. This is the title given on the cover; the title-page, +however, more liberally reveals the nature of its contents. Thereon is +inscribed, “One Thousand Temperance Anecdotes, Facts, Jokes, Biddies, +Puns, and Smart Sayings; suitable for Speakers, Penny Readings, +Recitations, &c.” And, to be sure, it is not in the least objectionable +that the teetotaler should have his “comic reciter;” nor can there be a +question as to the possibility of being as funny, as hilarious even, over +a cup of wholesome, harmless tea as over the grog-glass. But I very much +doubt if any but total abstainers could appreciate some of the witticisms +that, according to the book in question, occasionally issue from the +mouths of babes and sucklings. Here is a sample: + + “A CHILD’S ACUMEN.—‘Pa, does wine make a beast of a man?’ + + ‘Pshaw, child, only once in a while!’ + + ‘Is that the reason why Mr. Goggins has on his sign—Entertainment for + man and beast?’ + + ‘Nonsense, child, what makes you ask?’ + + ‘Because ma says that last night you went to Goggins’s _a man_, and + came back _a beast_! and that he entertained you.’ + + ‘That’s mother’s nonsense, dear! Run out and play; papa’s head + aches!’” + +I may have a preposterous aversion to a development of cuteness of a +certain sort in children, but I must confess that it would not have +pained me much had the above brilliant little anecdote concluded with a +reference to something else being made to ache besides papa’s head. + +Again: “Two little boys attended a temperance meeting at Otley in +Yorkshire, and signed a pledge that they should not touch nor give strong +drink to anyone. On going home, their father ordered them to fetch some +ale, and gave them a can for the purpose. They obeyed; but after getting +the ale neither of them felt inclined to carry it; so they puzzled +themselves as to what they could do. At last they hit upon an expedient. +A long broom-handle was procured, and slinging the can on this, each took +one end of the broom-handle, and so conveyed the liquor home without +spilling it.” + +One realty cannot see what moral lesson is to be deduced from these two +“funny” teetotal stories, unless it is intended to show that, from the +lofty eminence of total abstinence, a child may with impunity look down +upon and “chaff” and despise his beer-drinking parent. It would rather +seem that too early an indulgence in teetotal principles is apt to have +an effect on the childish mind quite the reverse of humanising. Here is +still another instance quoted from the “smart-saying” pages: + + “Two poor little children attending a school in America, at some + distance from their home, were shunned by the others because their + father was a drunkard. The remainder at dinner-time went into the + playground and ate their dinner; but the poor twins could only look + on. If they approached near those who were eating, the latter would + say, ‘You go away; your father is a drunkard.’ But they were soon + taught to behave otherwise; and then it was gratifying to see how + delicate they were in their attention to the two little + unfortunates.” + +If such contemptible twaddle enters very largely into the educational +nourishment provided for the young abstainer, we may tremble for the next +generation of our beer-imbibing species. It appears, moreover, that +those doughty juveniles, when they are well trained, will fearlessly +tackle the enemy, alcohol, even when he is found fortified within an +adult being; and very often with an amount of success that seems _almost_ +incredible. However, the veracious little book of temperance anecdotes +vouches for it, and no more can be said. Here following is an affecting +instance of how, “once upon a time,” a band of small teetotal female +infants were the means of converting from the error of his ways a +full-blown drunkard: + + “We used to furnish little boys and girls with pledge-books and + pencils, and thus equipped, they got us numerous signatures. A man + was leaning, much intoxicated, against a tree. Some little girls + coming from school saw him there, and at once said to each other, + ‘What shall we do for him?’ Presently one said, ‘O, I’ll tell you: + let’s sing him a temperance song.’ And so they did. They collected + round him, and struck up, ‘Away, away with the bowl!’ And so on, in + beautiful tones. The poor drunkard liked it, and so would you. + ‘Sing again, my little girls,’ said he. ‘We will,’ said they, ‘if + you will sign the temperance pledge.’ ‘No, no,’ said he, ‘we are not + at a temperance meeting; besides, you’ve no pledges with you.’ ‘Yes, + we have, and pencils too;’ and they held them up to him. ‘No, no, I + won’t sign now; but do sing to me!’ So they sang again, ‘The drink + that’s in the drunkard’s bowl is not the drink for me.’ ‘O, do sing + again!’ he said. But they were firm this time, and declared they + would go away if he did not sign. ‘But,’ said the poor fellow, + striving to find an excuse, ‘you’ve no table. How can I write + without a table?’ At this one quiet, modest, pretty little creature + came up timidly, with one finger on her lips, and said, ‘You can + write upon your hat, while we hold it for you.’ The man signed; and + he narrated these facts before 1,500 children, saying, ‘Thank God for + those children!—they came to me as messengers of mercy.’” + +It is to be hoped this affecting, not to say romantic, episode in the +history of “conversions,” will not be so lightly read that its chief +beauties will be missed. It presents a picture full of the loveliest +“bits” that to be thoroughly enjoyed should be lingered over. First of +all, let us take the drunkard, too “far gone” for locomotion, leaning +“against a tree.” Leaning against a tree, with an idiotic leer on his +flushed and tipsy face, and maybe trying to recall to his bemuddled +memory the burden of the drinking-song that he recently heard and +participated in in the parlour of the village alehouse. “What shall we +do with him?” “O, I’ll tell you: let us sing him a temperance song.” +There you have a prime bit of the picture complete. The sot with his +back to the tree, the swaying green boughs of which have tilted his +battered hat over his left eye, and the band of little girls gathered in +a semicircle about him, and rousing him to consciousness by the first +thrilling note of “Away, away with the bowl!” The words sound as though +they would go best with a hunting-tune, a sort of “Heigh-ho, tantivy!” +and one can imagine the intoxicated one first of all mistaking it for +that roistering melody, and gently snapping his thumbs at it, he being +for the present somewhat hampered as regards his vocal abilities. One +can imagine him chuckling tipsily and snapping his thumbs—feebler and +still more feeble as he discovers his error. It is _not_ a hunting-song; +it is a temperance ditty of the first, the purest water! His heart is +touched. His now disengaged thumbs seek the corners of his eyes, and the +scalding tears steal shimmering down his red-hot nose! “Sing—sing it +again!” he gasps. But no; the artless chanters have gained a step, and +they mean to retain it. “Not till you sign the pledge,” say they. +However, he begs so hard that they concede to the extent of a verse and a +half. Still he is obdurate; but he gradually yields, till, driven into a +corner, he falters, “But you have no table.” Then comes the crowning +triumph of the picture—the incident of the hat. “You can write upon your +hat—we will hold it for you.” And the deed was done! + +The same volume reveals another story of so similar a kind that it would +almost seem that the children of the first story had confided their +miraculous experience to the children of the second story. + + “A CRYSTAL-PALACE INCIDENT.—The following pleasing incident was + related to me by a youthful member of the choir, at the recent + Crystal-Palace _fête_. It seems that some of the young choristers + were amusing themselves in the grounds, and saw a poor man lying on + the grass partially intoxicated. Their medals attracted his + attention, and he began to dispute the motto, “Wine is a mocker.” + This led to conversation, and the children endeavoured to induce him + to become an abstainer, and sang several melodies. One of the + conductors was also present. The man seemed much affected during the + singing, and cried, my young informant said, until he was quite + sober. He confessed that he had once been a teetotaler for three + years, during which time he had been much benefited; but had broken + his pledge through the influence of his companions. However, he was + happily prevailed upon to sign again, and to put down his name in a + pledge-book at hand, and before they separated he thanked the young + people heartily, saying, ‘I did not come here expecting to sign the + pledge. I shall now be able to go home to my wife and children and + tell them; and to-morrow I shall be able to go to my work, instead of + being at the public-house.’ What a blessing it may prove to that + wife and family should the poor man keep to his resolution! Let no + child despair of doing something towards reclaiming the drunkard, but + let all endeavour, by loving, gentle persuasion whenever opportunity + offers, to help to make the wretched drunkard blessed by living + soberly.” + +I should be sorry indeed to “make fun” of any attempt earnestly and +heartily made by anyone for a fellow-creature’s good, but really there is +so much that is of questionable sincerity in such effusions as those +above quoted, that one feels by no means sure it is not intended as a +joke. Just, for instance, take that one feature of the drunkard “lying +on the grass,” and “crying himself sober,” while, led by their conductor, +the youthful members of the choir sang him all the songs they knew! Such +a scene would make the fortune of a farce with Mr. Toole to play the +tipsy man. + + + + +VI.—Betting Gamblers. + + +CHAPTER XXII. +“ADVERTISING TIPSTERS” AND “BETTING COMMISSIONERS.” + + +_The Vice of Gambling on the increase among the +Working-classes_—_Sporting_ “_Specs_”—_A_ “_Modus_”—_Turf +Discoveries_—_Welshers_—_The Vermin of the Betting-field_—_Their +Tactics_—_The Road to Ruin_. + +THERE can be no doubt that the vice of gambling is on the increase +amongst the English working-classes. Of this no better proof is afforded +than in the modern multiplication of those newspapers specially devoted +to matters “sportive.” Twenty years ago there were but three or four +sporting newspapers published in London; now there are more than a dozen. +It would, however, be unfair to regard the rapid growth of these +questionable prints as an undoubted symptom of the deepening depravity of +the masses. The fact is this: that though the national passion for +gambling, for betting, and wagering, and the excitement of seeing this or +that “event” decided, has increased of late, it is chiefly because the +people have much more leisure now than of yore. They must have amusement +for their disengaged hours, and they naturally seek that for which they +have the greatest liking. + +It is a comforting reflection, however, that in their sports and pastimes +Englishmen, and especially Londoners, of the present generation, are less +barbarous than those of the last. Setting horse-racing aside, anyone who +now takes up for perusal the ordinary penny sporting paper will find +therein nothing more repugnant to his sensibilities, as regards human +performers, than records of swimming, and cricket, and running, and +walking, and leaping; and as regards four-footed creatures, the discourse +will be of dogs “coursing” or racing, or killing rats in a pit. In the +present enlightened age we do not fight cocks and “shy” at hens tied to a +stake at the Shrove-Tuesday fair; neither do we fight dogs, or pit those +sagacious creatures to bait bulls. In a newspaper before me, not a +quarter of a century old, there is a minute and graphic account of a +bull-baiting, at which in the pride of his heart the owner of a bull-dog +did a thing that in the present day would insure for him twelve months of +hard labour on the treadmill, but which in the “good old time” was merely +regarded as the act of a spirited sportsman. A white bull-dog, “Spurt” +by name, had performed prodigies of valour against a bear brought before +him and before a crowded audience. Finally, however, the exhausted +creature bungled in a delicate act of the performance, and those who had +bet against the dog exasperated its master by clapping their hands. +“D’ye think that he can’t do it?” roared the dog’s owner; “why, I’ll take +ten to one in twenties that he does it on three legs—with one foot +chopped off.” “Done!” somebody cried. Whereon the valiant bulldog owner +called for a cleaver, and setting the left fore-paw of his faithful dog +on the ledge of the pit, he hacked it off at a blow. Then instantly he +urged the creature at the bear again, and, raging with pain, it at once +sprang at its shaggy opponent and pinned it. + +It cannot be denied that occasionally there still appears in the sporting +newspapers some brief account of a “mill” that has recently taken place +between those once highly-popular gentlemen—the members of the “P.R.” +But public interest in this department of “sport” is fast dying out; and +not one reader in a hundred would care to wade through column after +column of an account of how the Brompton Bison smashed the snout of the +Bermondsey Pet; and how the latter finally gained the victory by +battering his opponent’s eyes until he was blind and “came up groggy,” +and could not even see his man, let alone avoid the sledgehammer blows +that were still pounding his unhappy ribs. There are left very few +indeed of those individuals who, as “sportsmen,” admire +Raw-Head-and-Bloody-Bones as master of the ceremonies. + +All the while, however, it is to be feared that the sporting newspaper of +the present day reveals the existence of really more mischief, more +substantial immorality and rascality than ever appeared in their pages +before. As a quarter of a century since pugilism was the main feature +with the sporting press, now it is horse-racing; not for its sake, but +for the convenient peg it affords to hang a bet on. It may be safely +asserted that among Londoners not one in five hundred could mention the +chief qualities a racer should possess; but this goes for nothing; or +perhaps it might be said that it goes for everything. It is each man’s +faith in the ignorance of his neighbour, and his high respect for his own +sagacity and his “good luck,” wherein resides the secret of the +horse-betting mania at the present time afflicting the nation. + +As the reader will have remarked, so rapidly has the disease in question +spread during the past few years that Government has at last thought fit +to interpose the saving arm of the law between the victim and the +victimiser. Numerous as are the sporting papers, and to the last degree +accommodating in acting as mediums of communication between the ignorant +people who stand in need of horsey counsel and the “knowing ones” of the +turf who, for a small consideration, are ever ready to give it, it was +discovered by certain bold schemers that a yet wider field of operation +was as yet uncultivated. To be sure, what these bold adventurers +meditated was contrary to law, and of that they were well aware, and at +first acted on the careful Scotch maxim of not putting out their hand +farther than at a short notice they could draw it back again. Success, +however, made them audacious. Either the law slept, or else it +indolently saw what they were up to and winked, till at last, growing +each week more courageous, the new gambling idea, that took the name of +“Spec,” became of gigantic dimensions. + +Throughout lower London, and the shady portions of its suburbs, the +window of almost every public-house and beer-shop was spotted with some +notice of these “Specs.” There were dozens of them. There were the +“Deptford Spec,” and the “Lambeth Spec,” and the “Great Northern Spec,” +and the “Derby Spec;” but they all meant one and the same thing—a +lottery, conducted on principles more or less honest, the prize to be +awarded according to the performances of certain racehorses. All on a +sudden, however, the officers of the law swooped down on the gambling +band, and carried them, bag and baggage, before a magistrate to answer +for their delinquency. + +At the examination of the first batch at Bow-street, as well as at their +trial, much curious information was elicited. It appeared that the +originator of the scheme lived at Deptford, and that he had pursued it +for so long as six or seven years. + +The drawings were on Saturday nights, when the great majority of the +working-people had received their wages, and when, it having been noised +abroad that these lotteries were going on, they were likely to attend and +to expend their money in the purchase of such of the tickets as had not +been sold already. + +If all the tickets were not sold, a portion of each prize was deducted, +and the holders of prizes were paid in proportion to the number of +tickets that were sold; and, as it was impossible to know what number of +tickets had actually been sold, it could not be determined whether the +distribution had or had not been carried out with fairness, or how much +had been deducted to pay for expenses, and to afford a profit to the +promoters of the concern. Several cabloads of tickets, result-sheets, +&c. were seized at the residences of the managers of the “spec.” + +There were numerous “partners” in the firm, and they were frequently at +the chief’s residence, and were instrumental in carrying out the +lotteries. One or other was always present at the drawing of the numbers +and at the distribution of the prizes. One partner was a stationer in +the Strand, and at his shop were sold the tickets for these lotteries, +and also what are termed the “result-sheets,” which were sold at one +penny each, and each of which contained the results of a “draw,” setting +forth which of the ticket-holders had been fortunate enough to draw the +several prizes, and also advertising the next “spec” or lottery. Each of +these “specs” related to a particular race, and the tickets were +substantially alike. Each had on the top the words “Deptford Spec,” with +a number and letter, and in the corner the name of a race, as “Newmarket +Handicap Sweep,” “Liverpool Grand National Steeplechase.” In each of +these there were 60,000 subscribers, and in that for the Thousand Guineas +75,000. The prizes varied in proportion; but in one they were £500 for +the first horse, £300 for the second, and £150 for the third. Among the +starters was to be divided £500, and among the non-starters £600. There +were also 200 prizes of £1, and 300 prizes of 10_s._ It was stated on +the tickets that the prizes would go with the stakes, and that the +result-sheets would be published on the Monday after the draw. There was +also a stipulation that, in the event of any dispute arising, it should +be referred to the editors of the _Era_, _Bell’s Life_, and the _Sporting +Times_, and the decision of the majority to be binding. If the numbers +were not filled up, the prizes were to be reduced in proportion; with +some other details. There was no printer’s name to the tickets or +result-sheets. + +The detective police-officers, in whose hands the getting-up of evidence +for the prosecution had been intrusted, proved that, after they purchased +their tickets, they went up the stairs in a public-house about a quarter +to seven o’clock. They went into the club-room, where about sixty or +seventy persons had assembled, and where the managers of the lotteries +were selling tickets. The witness purchased one, and paid a shilling for +it. It had the same form as the others, and the draw was to be held that +night. Someone got up and said (reading from several sheets of paper in +his hand), “4,200 tickets not sold;” this he repeated twice. He then +proceeded to read from the papers the numbers of the tickets unsold. The +reading occupied about half-an-hour. After the numbers were read out, +they commenced to undo a small bundle of tickets, which they placed upon +the table. They fetched down some more bundles similar to the first, and +continued undoing them until they had undone about a bushel. The tickets +were all numbered. They then proceeded to place all the tickets in a +large wheel-of-fortune, after mixing them up well with a quantity of sand +to prevent their sticking together. The wheel was a kind of barrel +revolving on axles, with a hole for the hand. One of the managers asked +if any gentleman had got a sporting paper. No one answered, so he +produced one himself; he (witness) believed the _Sporting Life_. He +said, “Will any gentleman read the names of the horses for the Grand +National?” The names of the horses were then read out by those at the +table, while tickets were drawn for each till all the horses were called. +The tickets were then put down on the table, and the defendants proceeded +to undo another packet. They undid a heap, about a quarter the bulk of +the first lot. They put these into another wheel-of-fortune. Having +done so, two boys about fourteen or fifteen years old came into the room, +and after divesting themselves of their jackets and tucking up their +sleeves, each went to the wheels, which were turned by some of the +persons in the room. One of the managers called out the numbers of the +tickets and the name of the horse to each prize. + +It need only be mentioned, in proof of the popularity enjoyed by these +“specs,” that within a fortnight afterwards a similar scene was enacted +at the same public-house. A detective went to the Bedford Arms, where he +heard that a distribution of prizes was to be made. He went into the +club-room. The managers were there, with about forty prizeholders. A +person produced a ticket and handed it to one of the directors, who, +after examining it, said “All right,” and paid the money—405_l._—which +consisted of cheques, notes, and gold. The holder of the prize got +405_l._ for a 500_l._ prize, it being supposed all the tickets were not +sold, and a reduction was made in proportion. About forty prizes were +given away in this manner during the evening. After the prizes were +drawn, each person was asked to put something in the bowl for the two +boys. + +The prisoners were committed for trial, but were lucky enough to escape +punishment. For years they had been defying the law, and feathering +their nests on the strength of the silly confidence reposed in them by +the thousands of dupes who ran after their precious “specs;” and the +sentence of the judge was in effect no more severe than this—it bade them +beware how they so committed themselves for the future. Of course the +released lottery-agents promised that they _would_ beware, and doubtless +they will. Without being called on to do so, they even volunteered an +act of noble generosity. As before stated, the police had found in their +possession and seized a large sum of money—fourteen hundred pounds. This +the good gentlemen of the lottery suggested might be distributed amongst +the charities of that parish their leader honoured with his residence, +and with the Recorder’s sanction, and amid the murmured plaudits of a +crowded court, the suggestion was adopted. The oddest part of the +business was, however, that the benevolent gentlemen gave away what +didn’t belong to them, the fourteen hundred pounds representing the many +thousand shillings the believers in “specs” had intrusted to their +keeping. However, everybody appeared to think that the discharged +“speculators” had behaved honourably, not to say nobly, and there the +case ended. + +The “spec” bubble exploded, the police authorities show symptoms of +bringing the machinery of the law to bear on a wider-spread and more +insidious mischief of the same breed. With the betting infatuation there +has naturally sprung up a swarm of knowing hungry pike ready to take +advantage of it. These are the advertising tipsters, the “turf +prophets,” and the “betting commissioners.” Driven from the streets, +where for so long they publicly plied their trade, they have resorted to +the cheap sporting press to make known their amiable intentions and +desires, and the terms on which they are still willing, even from the +sacred privacy of their homes, to aid and counsel all those faint-hearted +ones who despair of ruining themselves soon enough without such friendly +help. + +Were it not for the awful amount of misery and depravity it involves, it +would be amusing to peruse the various styles of address from the +“prophet” to the benighted, and to mark the many kinds of bait that are +used in “flat-catching,” as the turf slang has it, as well as the +peculiar method each fisherman has in the sort and size of hook he uses, +and the length of line. + +Entitled to rank foremost in this numerous family is an unassuming but +cheerful and confident gentleman, who frequently, and at an expensive +length, advertises himself as the happy originator and proprietor of what +he styles a “Modus.” It is described as an instrument of “beauty, force, +and power,” and it is, doubtless, only that its owner, if he kept it all +to himself, and set it going at full blast, would undoubtedly win all the +money in the country, and so put an end to the sport, that he is induced +to offer participation in its working at the small equivalent of a few +postage-stamps. In his modest description of his wonderful “Modus,” Mr. +M. says: + + “In daily realising incomparably rich winnings with this Modus, + another great and distinguished victory was very successfully + achieved at Newmarket Spring Meeting. Mr. M.’s distinguished Winning + Modus, for beauty, force, and power, has never yet failed in clearly + realising treasures of weekly winnings and successes. For this + reason, this week’s eminent and moneyed success was the result with + this Modus at the Newmarket Spring Meeting. For acquiring an + ascendency over any other capital-making turf discovery, either + secret or public, it is truly marvellous. In fact, this Winning + Modus never deteriorates in its character, immense riches, or + winnings, for it is strikingly and truthfully infallible and + never-failing. At any rate, it will win 18,000_l._ or 20,000_l._ for + any investor ere the final close of the season. Do not think this + anywise fiction, for it is strict verity. Mr. M. takes this + opportunity to respectfully thank his patronisers for their + compliments, congratulations, and presents. It is needless to remind + his patrons that an illustrious and rich success will easily be + achieved at Chester next week, when Mr. M.’s Winning Modus will again + realise its infallible success in thousands.” + +It is to be assumed that Mr. M. has already by means of his own “Modus” +fished out of the risky waters of gambling a few of these “18,000_l._ or +20,000_l._” he speaks so lightly of; and doubtless the reader’s first +reflection will be, that he should hasten to expend a trifle of his +immense winnings in securing for himself at least as fair a knowledge of +the English language as is possessed by a “dame-school” scholar of six +years old. It is evident that Mr. M. has all the money at his command +which he is ever likely to require, or, of course, he would not reveal +his precious secret on such ridiculously easy terms. He would patent it, +and come down heavily on any rash person who infringed his rights, more +valuable than those that rest in Mr. Graves, or even Mr. Betts, the great +captain of “capsules.” No, he has won all the money he is ever likely to +need; indeed, how can a man ever be poor while he retains possession of +that wonderful talismanic “Modus,” a touch of which converts a +betting-book into a solid, substantial gold-mine? Still, he is exacting +as regards the gratitude of those whom his invention enriches. It is his +pride to record as many instances as possible of the dutiful thankfulness +of his fellow-creatures, and as, with pity and regret, he is aware that +the only earnest of a man’s sincerity is that which takes the shape of +the coinage of the realm, he is compelled, though sorely against his own +confiding and generous nature, to attach much weight to thankofferings of +a pecuniary nature. Every week he appends to his sketch of the working +of his “Modus” a list of those “patronisers” from whom he has most +recently heard. It may be urged by unbelievers that in this there is no +novelty, since from time immemorial the quacks of other professions have +done precisely the same thing; but it must be admitted that this should +at least be taken as proof of Mr. M.’s indifference to the evil opinion +of the censorious. Let us take the testimonials for the week of the +Chester Races, which, as he says, “are promiscuously selected from a vast +number:” + + “SIR,—For distinction, honour, and fame, your marvellous winning + Modus is worthy of its renown. I am happy in asserting it has won me + 4,220_l._ nett so quickly and readily this season. Accept the + 200_l._ enclosed.—I am, &c. + + M. ARTHUR PORSON.” + + “Mr. M. undoubtedly considers his winning Modus an infallible one. + Mr. G. Melville certainly considers it is too. At any rate, Mr. + Melville is the very fortunate winner of upwards of 6,400_l._ + 6,400_l._ at once is a tangible criterion as to its great worth for + procuring these heavy winnings. Mr. Melville forwards a sum of money + with his congratulations, as a present. Mr. M. will please accept + the same.” + + “SIR,—Do me a favour in accepting the enclosed cheque for 50_l._ + Through the instrumentality of your certainly very successful winning + Modus, I am, to my infinite pleasure, quickly becoming a certain and + never-failing winner of thousands; for already has its golden agency + marvellously won me 3,400_l._ + + “C. CONYERS GRESHAM.” + +In conclusion, this benefactor of his species says: “For this successful +winning ‘Modus,’ and its infinite riches, forward a stamped directed +envelope, addressed Mr. M., Rugby.” That is all. Forward a directed +envelope to Rugby, and in return you shall be placed, booted and spurred, +on the road to infinite riches. If, starting as a beggar, you allow your +head to be turned by the bewildering pelting of a pitiless storm of +sovereigns, and ride to the devil, Mr. M. is not to blame. + +The astounding impudence of these advertising dodgers is only equalled by +the credulity of their dupes. How long Mr. M. has presented his precious +“Modus” to the sporting public through the columns of “horsey” +newspapers, I cannot say; but this much is certain: that according to his +success has been the proportion of vexation and disappointment he has +caused amongst the geese who have trusted him. We are assured that +impostors of the M. school reap golden harvests; that thousands on +thousands weekly nibble at his baits; consequently thousands on thousands +weekly have their silly eyes opened to the clumsy fraud to which they +have been the victims. But M. of Rugby flourishes still; he still vaunts +the amazing virtues, and the beauty, force, and power of his “Modus,” and +brags of this week’s eminent and moneyed success as though it were a +matter of course. Mr. M. of Rugby is less modest than some members of +his fraternity. Here is an individual who affects the genteel: + + “A CARD.—Private Racing Information!!—A gentleman who has been a + breeder and owner of racehorses, and now in a good commercial + position, attained by judicious betting, enjoying rare opportunities + of early intelligence from most successful and dangerous stables, + being himself debarred by partnership restrictions from turf + speculations on his own account, thinks he might utilise the great + advantages at his disposal by leaving himself open to correspondence + with the racing public. This is a genuine advertisement, and worth + investigating.—Address, —, Post-office, Stafford. Unquestionable + references. Directed envelopes. No ‘systems’ or other fallacies.” + +It will be observed that, despite the good position attained by the +advertiser by “judicious betting,” not only was he glad to escape from +the field where his fortune was founded, and to take refuge in the dull +jog-trot regions of commerce, but his “partners” prohibit him in future +from collecting golden eggs from any racing mare’s-nest whatsoever. He +has made a fat pocket by the judicious exercise of a peculiar and +difficult science he is well versed in; but still he is tolerated by his +brother-members of the firm only on the distinct understanding that he +never does it again. Perhaps he has grown over-rich, and the rest and +seclusion is necessary to the complete restoration of his health. +Perhaps he owes to “Modus”—but no, the retired breeder and owner of +racehorses distinctly informs us that he has no faith in “systems” or +other fallacies: “lying excepted,” is the amendment that at once occurs +to the individual of common sense. + +Education is reckoned as a prime essential to success in most trades; but +in that of betting it would appear unnecessary, in order to realise a +fortune for himself or his fellow-mortals, that an advertising tipster or +betting-man should be master of the English language, let alone of the +cardinal virtues. Here is a member of the Manchester Subscription-rooms, +in proof: + + “George D—y, member of the Manchester Subscription-rooms, attends + personally all the principal race-meetings. Some persons having used + the above name, G. D. gives notice that he has not anyone betting for + him, and anyone doing so are welshers.” + +Another gentleman eschews prophecy, and would throw “Modus” to the dogs, +only that possibly his natural instincts peculiarly qualify him for +knowing that to do so would be to cast an undeserved indignity on those +respectable creatures. He goes in for “secret information.” He does not +seek to mystify his readers by adopting a _nom-de-plume_, such as “Stable +Mouse,” or “Earwig,” or “Spy in the Manger.” He boldly owns his identity +as John —, of Leicester-square, London, and arrogates to himself an +“outsider” that is to beat anything else in the field. “Do not be +guided,” says this frank and plain-spoken sportsman—“do not be guided by +the betting, but back my outsider, whose name has scarcely ever been +mentioned in the quotations, because the very clever division to which it +belongs have put their money on so quietly that their secret is known to +only a few. I am in the swim, and know that the horse did not start for +one or two races it could have won easily, but has been expressly saved +for this. I have several other absolute certainties, and guarantee to be +particularly successful at Chester. Terms: fourteen stamps the full +meeting. Many of the minor events will be reduced to certainties; and in +order to take advantage of it, I am willing to telegraph the very latest, +without charge, to those who will pay me honourably from winnings; or I +will invest any amount remitted to me, guaranteeing to telegraph before +the race is run the full particulars.—John G., Leicester-square, London.” + +What a pity it is that those who flatter themselves that they are +intellectually qualified to embark in one of the most hazardous and +difficult ways of making money should not be at the pains of carefully +reading and deliberating on barefaced attempts at imposture, such as are +disclosed in the above! John G. is one of the “clever division,” he +says. So much for his honesty, when he admits that he is in the “swim” +with men who have been tampering with the same wonderful “outsider,” and +so manœuvering as to throw dust in the eyes of unsuspecting persons. So +much for the wealth and position of the “swim,” when John G., a confessed +member of it, is ready to betray his confederates for the small +consideration of fourteenpence, or less, should you fall short of that +amount of faith in his integrity. He will “leave it to you, sir,” as +does the sweeper who clears the snow from your door, or the industrious +wretch who brushes the dust from your coat on the racecourse. Or he will +invest any sum you may feel disposed to intrust to him. There is not the +least doubt of it; and what is more, you may rest assured that he will +invest it so as to make sure of a substantial return. How else is he to +cut a respectable figure at Epsom or Ascot, and join the bold-faced, +leather-lunged gang, who, with a little money-pouch slung at their side, +and a little, a _very_ little money within the pouch, elbow their way +through the press, bawling, “I’ll lay” on this, that, or t’other? + +J. G. of Leicester-square is not the only advertising tipster who +professes to be “in the swim,” and on that account to be in a position to +act as a traitor to his friends, and the benefactor of the strange +public. Here is the announcement of another gentleman. + + “GREAT EVENTS!—Enormous odds!!—Two horses have been expressly saved; + and one of the best judges on the turf tells me they are the greatest + certainties he ever knew. As for another event, it is quite at the + mercy of the owner of a certain animal. I do not hesitate to say + that there never was, and never will be, a better chance of pulling + off a large stake at a trifling risk; for I can obtain the enormous + odds of 1,840_l._ to 1_l._, or 920_l._ to 10_s._, or 460_l._ to + 5_s._; or I will send the secret for fourteen stamps.” + +Here is a Munchausen fit to shake hands with and claim as a brother J. G. +of Leicester-square. He knows of a forthcoming race, and he likewise +knows of a man who intends to run in it a certain horse that will hold +the equine contest at his mercy. It is but reasonable to assume that the +noble animal in question will obey the dictates of his nature, and not +give way to weak forbearance or foolish generosity. Undoubtedly, +therefore, it will win the race; and the advertiser, if he puts 5_s._ on +it, is _sure_ of bagging 460_l._! And yet he is found competing in the +same dirty field with a score of his kindred, clamouring for +fourteenpence in postage-stamps. + +“Stable secrets! stable secrets!” shrieks the “Sporting Doctor;” secrets +so very precious that he cannot possibly betray them for less than +fivepence each. Send fifteen stamps, and receive in return the “true and +certain winners of the Chester, the Derby, and the Oaks.” The “Sporting +Doctor” hails from a back-street in the Blackfriars-road. The +“Barber-poet” of Paddington, in touching terms, implores his noble +patrons to assist him in advising his fellow-creatures of the “good +things he has for them.” “Show my circulars to your friends,” he says; +“it will be to my interest for you to do so. I will give 100_l._ to any +charitable institution, if the advice I give is not in every instance the +best that money can obtain.” The next tipster on the list goes farther +than this. He boldly avows he will forfeit a large sum of money unless +he “spots” the identical winners “first and second.” Of course, nothing +can be more transparent than bombast of this sort; but here it is in +black-and-white: + + “Mr. Ben W. will forfeit 500_l._ if he does not send first and second + for the Chester Cup. Send four stamps and stamped envelope, and + promise a present, and I will send you the Chester Cup, Great + Northern, Derby, and Oaks winners.—Address, —, Waterloo-road, + London.” + +Mr. Benjamin W.’s suggestion of a “promised present” is, however, no +novelty with the advertising tipster. Many of the fraternity ask a +cash-down payment for the “tip” they send—a sum barely sufficient to buy +them a pint of beer—professing to rely contentedly on the generosity of +their “patronisers,” as Mr. Modus styles them. Occasionally are appended +to the advertisements gentle remonstrances and reminders that the +confidence the tipster reposed in his patroniser seems to have been +misplaced. The latter is requested “not to forget what is due from one +gentleman, though in a humble sphere, to another.” One gentleman becomes +quite pathetic in an appeal of this kind: + + “The winners of Great Northern, Derby, and Oaks for thirteen stamps, + or one event four stamps, with promise of present from winnings. + Send a stamped envelope without delay. Gentlemen are requested to + act honourably, and send me the promised percentage on the Two + Thousand, for the labourer is worthy of his hire.—Address, — + Cumberland-street, Chelsea, London.” + +Another gentleman, blessed with an amount of coolness and candour that +should insure him a competency if every horse were swept off the face of +the earth to-morrow, publishes the following; and the reader will please +bear in mind that these various advertisements are clipped out of the +sporting papers, and copied to the letter: + + “TAKE NOTICE!!—I never advertise unless I am confident of success. I + have now a real good thing for Derby at 100 to 1; sure to get a + place, for which 25 to 1 can be obtained.—Enclose 1_s._ stamps and + stamped addressed envelope, and secure this moral.—Remember Perry + Down.—Address, H— Post-office, Reading.” + +It may be remarked, that everything that is highly promising becomes, in +the slang of the advertising tipster, a “moral;” but there are two +dictionary definitions of the term—one affecting its relation to good or +bad human life, and the other which is described as “the instruction of a +fable.” It is possibly in this last sense that the tipster uses the +word. “Send for my ‘moral’ on the Great Northern Handicap,” writes Mr. +Wilson of Hull. “It is said that the golden ball flies past every man +once in his lifetime!” cries “Quick-sight” of John-street, Brixton. “See +it in my moral certainty for the Derby. See it, and fail not to grasp +it. Fourteen stamps (uncut) will secure it.” + +This should indeed be glad news for those unfortunates whose vision has +hitherto been gladdened in the matter of golden balls only by seeing them +hanging in triplet above the pawnbroker’s friendly door. Fancy being +enabled to grasp the golden ball—the ball that is to stump out poverty, +and send the bails of impecuniosity flying into space never to return, at +the small cost of fourteen postage-stamps! They must be uncut, by the +way, or their talismanic virtue will be lost. The worst of it is, that +you are unable either to see it or grasp it until Quicksight sees and +grasps your fourteen stamps; and if you should happen to miss the golden +ball after all, it is doubtful if he would return you your poor +one-and-twopence as some consolation in your disappointment. He would +not do this, but he would be very happy to give you another chance. His +stock of “golden balls” is very extensive. He has been supplying them, +or rather the chance of grasping them, at fourteenpence each any time +during this five years, and he is doubtless in a position to “keep the +ball rolling” (the golden ball) until all his customers are supplied. + +By the way, it should be mentioned, that the advertiser last quoted, as +well as several others here instanced, terminate their appeals by begging +the public to beware of welshers! + +Does the reader know what is a “welsher”—the creature against whose +malpractices the sporting public are so emphatically warned? Probably he +does not. It is still more unlikely that he ever witnessed a “welsher” +hunt; and as I there have the advantage of him, it may not be out of +place here to enlighten him on both points. A “welsher” is a person who +contracts a sporting debt without a reasonable prospect of paying it. +There is no legal remedy against such a defaulter. Although the law to a +large extent countenances the practice of betting, and will even go the +length of lending the assistance of its police towards keeping such order +that a multitude may indulge in its gambling propensities comfortably, it +will not recognise as a just debt money owing between two wagerers. It +is merely “a debt of honour,” and the law has no machinery that will +apply thereto. The consequence is, that amongst the betting fraternity, +when a man shows himself dishonourable, he is punished by the mob that at +the time of the discovery of his defalcation may happen to surround him; +and with a degree of severity according to the vindictiveness and +brutality of the said mob. On the occasion of my witnessing a “welsher +hunt,” I was present at the races that in the autumn of 1868 were held in +Alexandra-park at Muswell-hill. As the race for the Grand Prize was +decided, looking down from the gallery of the stand, I observed a sudden +commotion amongst the perspiring, bawling, leather-lunged gentry, who +seek whom they may devour, in the betting-ring below, and presently there +arose the magical cry of “Welsher!” I have heard the sudden cry of +“Fire!” raised in the night, and watched its thrilling, rousing effect on +the population; but that was as nothing compared with it. Instantly, and +as though moved by one deadly hate and thirst for vengeance, a rush was +made towards a man in a black wide-awake cap, and with the regular +betting-man’s pouch slung at his side, and who was hurrying towards the +gate of the enclosure. “Welsher! welsher!” cried the furious mob of the +ring, making at the poor wretch; and in an instant a dozen fists were +directed at his head and face, and he was struck down; but he was a +biggish man and strong, and he was quickly on his legs, to be again +struck down and kicked and stamped on. He was up again, however, without +his hat, and with his face a hideous patch of crimson, and hustled +towards the gate, plunging like a madman to escape the fury of his +pursuers; but the policeman blocked the way, and they caught him again, +and some punched at his face, while others tore off his clothes. One +ruffian—I cannot otherwise describe him—plucked at the poor devil’s shirt +at the breast, and tore away a tattered handful of it, which he flung +over to the great yelling crowd now assembled without the rails; another +tore away his coat-sleeves, and tossed them aloft; and in the same way he +lost his waistcoat and one of his boots. It seemed as though, if they +detained him another moment, the man must be murdered, and so the +policeman made way for him to escape. + +From the frying-pan into the fire. “Welsher! welsher!” The air rang +with the hateful word, and, rushing from the gate, he was at once +snatched at by the foremost men of the mouthing, yelling mob outside, who +flung him down and punched and beat him. Fighting for his life, he +struggled and broke away, and ran; but a betting-man flung his tall stool +at him, and brought him to earth again for the twentieth time, and again +the punching and kicking process was resumed. How he escaped from these +was a miracle, but escape he did; and with the desperation of a rat +pursued by dogs, dived into an empty hansom cab, and there lay crouched +while fifty coward hands were stretched forward to drag him out, or, +failing in that, to prog and poke at him with walking-sticks and +umbrellas. At last, a mounted policeman spurred his horse forward and +came to the rescue, keeping his steed before the place of refuge. Then +the furious mob, that was not to be denied, turned on the policeman, and +only his great courage and determination saved him from being unhorsed +and ill-treated. Then other police came up, and the poor tattered +wretch, ghastly, white, and streaming with blood, was hauled out and +dragged away insensible, with his head hanging and his legs trailing in +the dust, amid the howling and horrible execrations of five thousand +Englishmen. + +The next consideration was what to do with him. To convey him off the +premises was impossible, since a space of nearly a quarter of a mile had +to be traversed ere the outer gate could be reached. There was no +“lock-up” at the new grand stand, as at Epsom and elsewhere. Nothing +remained but to hustle him through a trap-door, and convey him by an +underground route to a cellar, in which empty bottles were deposited. +And grateful indeed must have been the stillness and the coolness of such +a sanctuary after the fierce ordeal he had so recently undergone. +Whether water was supplied him to wash his wounds, or if a doctor was +sent for, is more than I can say. There he was allowed to remain till +night, when he slunk home; and within a few days afterwards a local +newspaper briefly announced that the “unfortunate man, who had so rashly +roused the fury of the sporting fraternity at Alexandra races, was dead”! + +To a close observer of the system that rules at all great horseracing +meetings, nothing is so remarkable as the child-like reliance with which +the general public intrusts its bettings to the keeping of the +“professionals,” who there swarm in attendance. In the case of the +bettors of the “ring” they may be tolerably safe, since it is to the +interest of all that the atmosphere of that sacred enclosure, only to be +gained at the cost of half-a-guinea or so, should be kept passably sweet. +Besides, as was mentioned in the case of the unfortunate “welsher” at +Alexandra races, the said enclosure is bounded by high railings; and the +salutary effect of catching and killing a “welsher” is universally +acknowledged. As regards the betting men themselves, it enables them to +give vent to reckless ferocity that naturally waits on disappointed +greed, while the public at large are impressed with the fact that strict +principles of honour amongst gamblers really do prevail, whatever may +have been said to the contrary. But at all the principal races the +greatest number of bets, if not the largest amounts of money, are risked +outside the magic circle. It is here that the huckster and small pedlar +of the betting fraternity conjure with the holiday-making shoemaker or +carpenter for his half-crown. For the thousandth time one cannot help +expressing amazement that men who have to work so hard for their +money—shrewd, hard-headed, sensible fellows as a rule—should part with it +on so ludicrously flimsy a pretext. Here—all amongst the refreshment +bustle, from which constantly streamed men hot from the beer and spirit +counters—swarmed hundreds of these betting harpies; some in carts, but +the majority of them perched on a stool, each with a bit of paper, on +which some name was printed, stuck on his hat, and with a money-bag slung +at his side, and a pencil and a handful of tickets. This was all. As +often as not the name and address on the betting man’s hat or money-bag +was vaguely expressed as “S. Pipes, Nottingham,” or “John Brown, +Oxford-street;” and who Pipes or Brown was not one man in a thousand had +the least idea. Nor did they inquire, the silly gulls. It was enough +for them they saw a man on a stool, ostensibly a “betting man,” bawling +out at the top of his great, vulgar, slangy voice what odds he was +prepared to lay on this, that, or t’other; and they flocked round—enticed +by terms too good to be by any possibility true, if they only were cool +enough to consider for a moment—and eagerly tendered to the rogue on the +stool their crowns and half-crowns, receiving from the strange Mr. Pipes +or Mr. Brown nothing in exchange but a paltry little ticket with a number +on it. This, for the present, concluded the transaction; and off went +the acceptor of the betting man’s odds to see the race on which the stake +depended. In very many cases the exchange of the little ticket for the +money concluded the transaction, not only for the present, but for all +future; for, having plucked all the gulls that could be caught, nothing +is easier than for Pipes to exchange hats with Brown and to shift their +places; and the pretty pair may with impunity renounce all +responsibility, and open a book on the next race on the programme. To be +sure it is hard to find patience with silly people who _will_ walk into a +well; and when they follow the workings of their own free will, it is +scarcely too much to say they are not to be pitied. But when a cheat or +sharper is permitted standing room that he may pursue his common +avocation, which is to cheat and plunder the unwary public, the matter +assumes a slightly different complexion. + +Of all manner of advertising betting gamblers, however, none are so +pernicious, or work such lamentable evil against society, as those who, +with devilish cunning, appeal to the young and inexperienced—the factory +lad and the youth of the counting-house or the shop. Does anyone doubt +if horseracing has attractions for those whose tender age renders it +complimentary to style them “young men”? Let him on the day of any great +race convince himself. Let him make a journey on the afternoon of +“Derby-day,” for instance, to Fleet-street or the Strand, where the +offices of the sporting newspapers are situated. It may not be generally +known that the proprietors of the _Sunday Times_, _Bell’s Life_, and +other journals of a sporting tendency, in their zeal to outdo each other +in presenting the earliest possible information to the public, are at the +trouble and expense of securing the earliest possible telegram of the +result of a horserace, and exhibiting it enlarged on a broad-sheet in +their shop-windows. Let us take the _Sunday Times_, for instance. The +office of this most respectable of sporting newspapers is situated near +the corner of Fleet-street, at Ludgate-hill; and wonderful is the +spectacle there to be seen on the afternoon of the great equine contest +on Epsom downs. On a small scale, and making allowance for the absence +of the living provocatives of excitement, the scene is a reproduction of +what at that moment, or shortly since, has taken place on the racecourse +itself. Three o’clock is about the time the great race is run at Epsom, +and at that time the Fleet-street crowd begins to gather. It streams in +from the north, from the east, from the south. At a glance it is evident +that the members of it are not idly curious merely. It is not composed +of ordinary pedestrians who happen to be coming that way. Butcher-lads, +from the neighbouring great meat-market, come bareheaded and perspiring +down Ludgate-hill, and at a pace that tells how exclusively their eager +minds are set on racing: all in blue working-smocks, and with the grease +and blood of their trade adhering to their naked arms, and to their +hob-nailed boots, and to their hair. Hot and palpitating they reach the +obelisk in the middle of the road, and there they take their stand, with +their eyes steadfastly fixed on that at present blank and innocent window +that shall presently tell them of their fate. + +I mention the butcher-boys first, because, for some unknown reason, they +undoubtedly are foremost in the rank of juvenile bettors. In the days +when the Fleet-lane betting abomination as yet held out against the +police authorities, and day after day a narrow alley behind the squalid +houses there served as standing room for as many “professional” betting +men, with their boards and money-pouches, as could crowd in a row, an +observer standing at one end of the lane might count three blue frocks +for one garment of any other colour. But though butcher-boys show +conspicuously among the anxious Fleet-street rush on a Derby-day, they +are not in a majority by a long way. To bet on the “Derby” is a mania +that afflicts all trades; and streaming up Farringdon-street may he seen +representatives of almost every craft that practises within the City’s +limits. There is the inky printer’s-boy, hot from the “machine-room,” +with his grimy face and his cap made of a ream wrapper; there is the +jeweller’s apprentice, with his bibbed white apron, ruddy with the powder +of rouge and borax; and the paper-stainer’s lad, with the variegated +splashes of the pattern of his last “length” yet wet on his ragged +breeches; and a hundred others, all hurrying pell-mell to the one spot, +and, in nine cases out of ten, with the guilt of having “slipped out” +visible on their streaming faces. Take their ages as they congregate in +a crowd of five hundred and more (they are expected in such numbers that +special policemen are provided to keep the roadway clear), and it will be +found that more than half are under the age of eighteen. Furthermore, it +must be borne in mind that in the majority of cases a single lad +represents a score or more employed in one “office” or factory. They +cast lots who shall venture on the unlawful mission, and it has fallen on +him. Again, and as before mentioned, the _Sunday Times_ is but one of +ten or a dozen sporting newspapers published between Ludgate-hill and St. +Clement Danes; and in the vicinity of every office may be met a similar +crowd. Let the reader bear these facts in mind, and he may arrive at +some faint idea of the prevalence of the horse-gambling evil amongst the +rising generation. + +The significance of these various facts is plain to the advertising +tipster, and he shapes his baits accordingly. He never fails to mention, +in apprising his youthful admirers, that, in exchange for the last “good +thing,” postage-stamps will be taken. Well enough the cunning +unscrupulous villain knows that in the commercial world postage-stamps +are articles of very common use, and that at many establishments they are +dealt out carelessly, and allowed to lie about in drawers and desks for +the “common use.” There is temptation ready to hand! “Send fourteen +stamps to Dodger, and receive in return the _certain_ tip as to who will +win the Derby.” There are the stamps, and the ink, and the pen, and the +envelope, and nothing remains but to apply them to the use Dodger +suggests. It is not stealing, at least it does not seem like stealing, +this tearing fourteen stamps from a sheet at which everybody in the +office has access, and which will be replaced without question as soon as +it is exhausted. It is at most only “cribbing.” What is the difference +between writing a private note on the office paper and appropriating a +few paltry stamps? It would be different if the fourteenpence was in +hard money—a shilling and two penny-pieces. No young bookkeeper with any +pretensions to honesty would be guilty of stealing _money_ from his +master’s office—but a few stamps! Dodger knows this well enough, and +every morning quite a bulky parcel of crummy-feeling letters are +delivered at his residence in some back street in the Waterloo-road. + +This is the way that Dodger angles for “flat-fish” of tender age: + + “GREAT RESULTS FROM SMALL EFFORTS!—In order to meet the requirements + of those of humble means, W. W—n, of Tavistock-street, is prepared to + receive small sums for investment on the forthcoming great events. + Sums as low as two-and-sixpence in stamps (uncut) may be sent to the + above address, and they will be invested with due regard to our + patron’s interest. Recollect that at the present time there are Real + Good things in the market at 100 to 1, and that even so small a sum + put on such will return the speculator twelve pounds ten shillings, + less ten per cent commission, which is Mr. W.’s charge.” + + “Faint heart never won a fortune! It is on record that the most + renowned Leviathan of the betting world began his career as + third-hand in a butcher’s shop! He had a ‘fancy’ for a horse, and + was so strongly impressed with the idea that it would win, that he + begged and borrowed every farthing he could raise, and even pawned + the coat off his back! His pluck and resolution was nobly rewarded. + The horse he backed was at 70 to 1, and he found himself after the + race the owner of nearly a thousand pounds! Bear this in mind. + There are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it. Lose no + time in forwarding fourteen stamps to Alpha, John-street, Nottingham; + and wait the happy result.” + +What is this but a plain and unmistakable intimation, on the part of the +advertising blackguard, that his dupes should _stick at nothing_ to raise +money to bet on the “forthcoming great event”? Pawn, beg, +borrow—_anything_, only don’t let the chance slip. Butcher-boys, think +of the luck of your Leviathan craftsman, and at once take the coat off +your back, or if you have not a garment good enough, your master’s coat +out of the clothes-closet, and hasten to pawn it. Never fear for the +happy result. Long before he can miss it, you will be able to redeem it, +besides being in a position to snap your fingers at him, and, if you +please, to start on your own “hook” as a bookmaker. + +Another of these “youths’ guide to the turf” delicately points out that, +if bettors will only place themselves in his hands, he will “pull them +through, and land them high and dry,” certainly and surely, and with a +handsome return for their investments. “No knowledge of racing matters +is requisite on the part of the investor,” writes this quack; “indeed, as +in all other business affairs of life, ‘a little knowledge is a dangerous +thing.’ Better trust _entirely_ to one who has made it the one study of +his existence, and can read off the pedigree and doings of every horse +that for the past ten years has run for money. Large investments are not +recommended. Indeed, the beginner should in no case ‘put on’ more than a +half-sovereign, and as low as half-a-crown will often be sufficient, and +in the hands of a practised person like the advertiser be made to go as +far as an injudiciously invested pound or more.” + +It would be interesting to know in how many instances these vermin of the +betting-field are successful, how many of them there are who live by +bleeding the simple and the infatuated, and what sort of living it is. +Not a very luxurious one, it would seem, judging from the shady quarters +of the town from which the “tipster” usually hails; but then we have to +bear in mind the venerable maxim, “Light come, light go,” and its +probable application to those harpies who hanker after “uncut” stamps and +receive them in thousands. That very many of them find it a game worth +pursuing, there can be no doubt, or they would not so constantly resort +to the advertising columns of the newspapers. How much mischief they +really do, one can never learn. The newspaper announcement is, of +course, but a preliminary to further business: you send your stamps, and +what you in most cases get in return is not the information for which you +imagined you were bargaining, but a “card of terms” of the tipster’s +method of doing business. There is nothing new or novel in this. It is +an adaptation of the ancient dodge of the medical quack who advertises a +“certain cure” for “all the ills that flesh is heir to,” on receipt of +seven postage-stamps; but all that you receive for your sevenpence is a +printed recipe for the concoction of certain stuffs, “to be had only” of +the advertiser. + +And well would it be for the gullible public if the mischief done by the +advertising fraternity of horse-racing quacks was confined to the +“fourteen uncut stamps” they have such an insatiable hunger for. There +can be no doubt, however, that this is but a mild and inoffensive branch +of their nefarious profession. In almost every case they combine with +the exercise of their supernatural gift of prophecy the matter-of-fact +business of the “commission agent,” and, if rumour whispers true, they +make of it at times a business as infernal in its working as can well be +imagined. They can, when occasion serves, be as “accommodating” as the +loan-office swindler or the 60-per-cent bill-discounter, and a profit +superior to that yielded by either of these avocations may be realised, +and that with scarce any trouble at all. No capital is required, +excepting a considerable stock of impudence and a fathomless fund of +cold-blooded rascality. + +Judging from the fact that the species of villany in question has never +yet been exposed in a police-court, it is only fair to imagine that it is +a modern invention; on that account I am the more anxious to record and +make public an item of evidence bearing on the subject that, within the +past year, came under my own observation. + +It can be scarcely within the year, though, for it was at the time when +an audacious betting gang “squatted” in the vicinity of Ludgate-hill, +and, owing to some hitch in the law’s machinery, they could not easily be +removed. First they swarmed in Bride-lane, Fleet-street. Being +compelled to “move on,” they migrated to a most appropriate site, the +waste land on which for centuries stood the infamous houses of Field-lane +and West-street, and beneath which flowed the filthy Fleet-ditch. But +even this was accounted ground too good to be desecrated by the foot of +the gambling blackleg, and they were one fine morning bundled off it by a +strong body of City police. After this they made a desperate stand on +the prison side of the way in Farringdon-street, and for some months +there remained. + +It was at this time that I made the acquaintance of the subject of the +present little story. I had noticed him repeatedly, with his pale +haggard face and his dull eyes, out of which nothing but weariness of +life looked. He was a tall slim young fellow, and wore his patched and +seedy clothes as though he had been used to better attire; and, despite +the tell-tale shabbiness of his boots and his wretched tall black hat, he +still clung to the respectable habit of wearing black kid-gloves, though +it was necessary to shut his fists to hide the dilapidations at their +finger-tips. + +He was not remarkable amongst the betting blackguards he mingled with on +account of the active share he took in the questionable business in which +they were engaged; on the contrary, he seemed quite out of place with +them, and though occasionally one would patronise him with a nod, it was +evident that he was “nothing to them,” either as a comrade or a gull to +be plucked. He appeared to be drawn towards them by a fascination he +could not resist, but which he deplored and was ashamed of. It was +customary in those times for the prosperous horse-betting gambler to +affect the genteel person who could afford to keep a “man,” and to press +into his service some poor ragged wretch glad to earn a sixpence by +wearing his master’s “card of terms” round his neck for the inspection of +any person inclined to do business. The tall shabby young fellow’s chief +occupation consisted in wandering restlessly from one of these +betting-card bearers to another, evidently with a view to comparing +“prices” and “odds” offered on this or that horse; but he never bet. I +don’t believe that his pecuniary affairs would have permitted him, even +though a bet as low as twopence-halfpenny might be laid. + +I was always on the look-out for my miserable-looking young friend +whenever I passed that way, and seldom failed to find him. He seemed to +possess for me a fascination something like that which horse-betting +possessed for him. One afternoon, observing him alone and looking even +more miserable than I had yet seen him, as he slouched along the miry +pavement towards Holborn, I found means to start a conversation with him. +My object was to learn who and what he was, and whether he was really as +miserable as he looked, and whether there was any help for him. I was +prepared to exercise all the ingenuity at my command to compass this +delicate project, but he saved me the trouble. As though he was glad of +the chance of doing so, before we were half-way up Holborn-hill he turned +the conversation exactly into the desired groove, and by the time the +Tottenham-court-road was reached (he turned down there), I knew even more +of his sad history than is here subjoined. + +“What is the business pursuit that takes me amongst the betting-men? O +no, sir, I’m not at all astonished that you should ask the question; I’ve +asked it of myself so often, that it doesn’t come new to me. I pursue no +business, sir. What business _could_ a wretched scarecrow like I am +pursue? Say that _I_ am pursued, and you will be nearer the mark. +Pursued by what I can never get away from or shake off: damn it!” + +He uttered the concluding wicked word with such decisive and bitter +emphasis, that I began to think that he had done with the subject; but he +began again almost immediately. + +“I wish to the Lord I had a business pursuit! If ever a fellow was tired +of his life, I am. Well—yes, I _am_ a young man; but it’s precious small +consolation that that fact brings me. Hang it, no! All the longer to +endure it. How long have I endured it? Ah, now you come to the point. +For years, you think, I daresay. You look at me, and you think to +yourself, ‘There goes a poor wretch who has been on the downhill road so +long that it’s time that he came to the end of it, or made an end to it.’ +There you are mistaken. Eighteen months ago I was well dressed and +prosperous. I was second clerk to —, the provision merchants, in St. +Mary Axe, on a salary of a hundred and forty pounds—rising twenty each +year. Now look at me! + +“You need not ask me how it came about. You say that you have seen me +often in Farringdon-street with the betting-men, so you can give a good +guess as to how I came to ruin, I’ll be bound. Yes, sir, it was +horse-betting that did my business. No, I did not walk to ruin with my +eyes open, and because I liked the road. I was trapped into it, sir, as +I’ll be bound scores and scores of young fellows have been. I never had +a passion for betting. I declare that, till within the last two years, I +never made a bet in my life. The beginning of it was, that, for the fun +of the thing, I wagered ten shillings with a fellow-clerk about the Derby +that was just about to come off. I never took any interest in +horseracing before; but when I had made that bet I was curious to look +over the sporting news, and to note the odds against the favourite. One +unlucky day I was fool enough to answer the advertisement of a +professional tipster. He keeps the game going still, curse him! You may +read his name in the papers this morning. If I wasn’t such an infernal +coward, you know, I should kill that man. If I hadn’t the money to buy a +pistol, I ought to steal one, and shoot the thief. But, what do you +think? I met him on Monday, and he chaffed me about my boots. It was +raining at the time. ‘I wish I had a pair of waterproofs like yours, +Bobby. You’ll never take cold while they let all the water out at the +heel they take in at the toe!’ Fancy me standing _that_ after the way he +had served me! Fancy this too—me borrowing a shilling of him, and saying +‘Thank you, sir,’ for it! Why, you know, I ought to be pumped on for +doing it! + +“Yes, I wrote to ‘Robert B—y, Esq., of Leicester,’ and sent the +half-crown’s worth of stamps asked for. It doesn’t matter what I got in +return. Anyhow, it was something that set my mind on betting, and I +wrote again and again. At first his replies were of a distant and +business sort; but in a month or so after I had written to him to +complain of being misguided by him, he wrote back a friendly note to say +that he wasn’t at all surprised to hear of my little failures—novices +always did fail. They absurdly attempt what they did not understand. +‘Just to show you the difference,’ said he, ‘just give me a commission to +invest a pound for you on the Ascot Cup. All that I charge is seven and +a half per cent on winnings. Try it just for once; a pound won’t break +you, and it may open your eyes to the way that fortunes are made.’ I +ought to have known then, that either he, or somebody in London he had +set on, had been making inquiries about me, for the other notes were sent +to where mine were directed from—my private lodgings—but this one came to +me at the warehouse. + +“Well, I sent the pound, and within a week received a post-office order +for four pounds eight as the result of its investment. The same week I +bet again—two pounds this time—and won one pound fifteen. That was over +six pounds between Monday and Saturday. ‘This _is_ the way that fortunes +are made,’ I laughed to myself, like a fool. + +“Well, he kept me going, I don’t exactly recollect how, between Ascot and +Goodwood, which is about seven weeks, not more. Sometimes I won, +sometimes I lost, but, on the whole, I was in pocket. I was such a fool +at last, that I was always for betting more than he advised. I’ve got +his letters at home now, in which he says, ‘Pray don’t be rash; take my +advice, and bear in mind that great risks mean great losses, as well as +great gains, at times.’ Quite fatherly, you know! The infernal +scoundrel! + +“Well, one day there came a telegram to the office for me. I was just in +from my dinner. It was from B—y. ‘Now you may bag a hundred pounds at a +shot,’ said he. ‘The odds are short, but the result _certain_. Never +mind the money just now. You are a gentleman, and I will trust you. You +know that my motto has all along been ‘Caution.’ Now it is ‘Go in and +win.’ It is _sure_. Send me a word immediately, or it may be too late; +and, if you are wise, put a ‘lump’ on it.’ + +“That was the infernal document—the death-warrant of all my good +prospects. It was the rascal’s candour that deceived me. He had all +along said, ‘Be cautious, don’t be impatient to launch out;’ and now this +patient careful villain saw his chance, and advised, ‘Go in and win.’ I +was quite in a maze at the prospect of bagging a hundred pounds. To win +that sum the odds were so short on the horse he mentioned, that fifty +pounds had to be risked. But he said that there was _no_ risk, and I +believed him. I sent him back a telegram at once to execute the +commission. + +“The horse lost. I knew it next morning before I was up, for I had sent +for the newspaper; and while I was in the midst of my fright, up comes my +landlady to say that a gentleman of the name of B—y wished to see me. + +“I had never seen him before, and he seemed an easy fellow enough. He +was in a terrible way—chiefly on my account—though the Lord only knew how +much _he_ had lost over the ‘sell.’ He had come up by express purely to +relieve my anxiety, knowing how ‘funky’ young gentlemen sometimes were +over such trifles. Although he had really paid the fifty in hard gold +out of his pocket, he was in no hurry for it. He would take my bill at +two months. It would be all right, no doubt. He had conceived a liking +for me, merely from my straightforward way of writing. Now that he had +had the pleasure of seeing me, he shouldn’t trouble himself a fig if the +fifty that I owed him was five hundred. + +“I declare to you that I knew so little about bills, that I didn’t know +how to draw one out; but I was mighty glad to be shown the way and to +give it him, and thank him over and over again for his kindness. That +was the beginning of my going to the devil. If I hadn’t been a fool, I +might have saved myself even then, for I had friends who would have lent +or given me twice fifty pounds if I had asked them for it. But I _was_ a +fool. In the course of a day or two I got a note from B—y, reminding me +that the way out of the difficulty was by the same path as I had got into +one, and that a little judicious ‘backing’ would set me right before even +my bill fell due. And I was fool enough to walk into the snare. I +wouldn’t borrow to pay the fifty pounds, but I borrowed left and right, +of my mother, of my brothers, on all manner of lying pretences, to follow +the ‘advice’ B—y was constantly sending me. When I came to the end of +their forbearance, I did more than borrow; but that we won’t speak of. +In five months from the beginning, I was without a relative who would own +me or speak to me, and without an employer—cracked up, ruined. And +there’s B—y, as I said before, with his white hat cocked on one side of +his head, and his gold toothpick, chaffing me about my old boots. What +do I do for a living? Well, I’ve told you such a precious lot, I may as +well tell you that too. Where I lodge it’s a ‘leaving-shop,’ and the old +woman that keeps it can’t read or write, and I keep her ‘book’ for her. +That’s how I get a bit of breakfast and supper and a bed to lie on.” + +[Since the above was written, the police, under the energetic guidance of +their new chief, have been making vigorous and successful warfare against +public gamblers and gambling agents. The “spec” dodge has been +annihilated, “betting-shops” have been entered and routed, and there is +even fair promise that the worst feature of the bad business, that which +takes refuge behind the specious cloak of the “commission-agent,” may be +put down. That it may be so, should be the earnest wish of all +right-thinking men, who would break down this barrier of modern and +monstrous growth, that blocks the advancement of social purity, and +causes perhaps more ruin and irreparable dismay than any other two of the +Curses herein treated of.] + + + + +VII.—Waste of Charity. + + +CHAPTER XXIII. +METROPOLITAN PAUPERISM. + + +_Parochial Statistics_—_The Public hold the Purse-strings_—_Cannot the +Agencies actually at work be made to yield greater results_?—_The Need of +fair Rating_—_The heart and core of the Poor-law Difficulty_—_My foremost +thought when I was a_ “_Casual_”—_Who are most liable to +slip_?—“_Crank-work_”—_The Utility of Labour-yards_—_Scales of +Relief_—_What comes of breaking-up a Home_. + +THE following is a return of the number of paupers (exclusive of lunatics +in asylums and vagrants) on the last day of the fifth week of April 1869, +and total of corresponding week in 1868: + +Unions and single Paupers. Corresponding + Parishes (the Total in +latter marked *). 1868. + In-door. Out-door. Total 5th + Adults and week Apr. + Children. 1869. + Adults. Children + under 16. +WEST DISTRICT: + * Kensington 809 1,379 1,545 3,733 2,874 + Fulham 364 988 696 2,048 1,537 + * Paddington 460 1,004 660 2,124 1,846 + * Chelsea 702 896 744 2,342 2,272 + * St. George, 753 852 642 2,247 2,127 + Hanover-square + * St. Margaret 1,131 1,791 1,313 4,285 5,742 + and St. John + Westminster 1,101 749 558 2,408 1,874 +Total of West 5,320 7,659 6,158 19,137 18,272 +Dist. +NORTH DISTRICT: + * St. 2,221 2,587 1,374 6,182 5,902 + Marylebone + * Hampstead 143 126 57 326 347 + * St. Pancras 2,141 3,915 2,847 8,903 8,356 + * Islington 909 1,996 1,590 4,495 4,792 + Hackney 695 2,909 2,952 6,556 5,385 + Total of North 6,109 11,533 8,820 26,462 24,782 + Dist. +CENTRAL DISTRICT: + *St. Giles and 869 587 538 1,994 2,246 + St. George, + Bloomsbury + Strand 1,054 647 387 2,088 3,069 + Holborn 554 947 781 2 282 2,724 + Clerkenwell 713 999 642 2,354 2,863 + * St. Luke 965 1,245 1,045 3,255 3,165 + East London 838 1,038 906 2,782 2,813 + West London 598 701 542 1,841 1,965 + City of London 1,034 1,191 632 2,857 3,019 + Total of Central 6,625 7,355 5,473 19,453 21,864 + D. +EAST DISTRICT: + * Shoreditch 1,440 1,966 1,770 5,176 5,457 + * Bethnal Green 1,510 1,265 1,389 4,164 5,057 + Whitechapel 1,192 1,234 1,700 4,126 4,315 + * St. 1,192 1,585 1,565 4,342 3,967 + George-in-the- + E. + Stepney 1,072 1,600 1,533 4,205 4,650 + * Mile End Old 547 1,228 1,055 2,830 2,705 + Town + Poplar 1,014 2,807 2,793 6,614 9,169 + Total of East 7,967 11,685 11,805 31,457 35,320 + Dist. +SOUTH DISTRICT: + St. Saviour, 537 678 678 1,893 2,000 + Southwk. + St. Olave, 478 393 464 1,335 1,349 + Southwark + * Bermondsey 712 554 752 2,018 1,860 + * St. George, 660 1,260 1,646 3,566 4,120 + Southwk. + * Newington 891 1,450 1,330 3,671 3,676 + * Lambeth 1,503 2,777 3,401 7,681 8,369 + Wandsworth & 887 1,678 1,439 4,004 3,876 + Clapham + * Camberwell 865 1,537 1,492 3,894 3,360 + * Rotherhithe 288 638 518 1,444 1,338 + Greenwich 1,447 2,799 2,314 6,560 5,933 + Woolwich — 2,506 2,173 4,679 3,110 + Lewisham 320 595 394 1,309 1,253 + Total of South 8,588 16,865 16,601 42,054 40,244 + Dist. +Total of the 34,609 55,097 48,857 138,563 140,482 +Metropolis + + * * * * * + + TOTAL PAUPERISM OF THE METROPOLIS. + (Population in 1861, 2,802,000.) + + YEARS. Number of Paupers. Total. + In-door. Out-door. +Fifth week of April 1869 34,609 103,954 138,563 +„ „ „ 1868 34,455 106,027 140,482 +„ „ „ 1867 32,728 96,765 129,493 +„ „ „ 1866 30,192 71,372 101,564 + +This as regards parochial charity. It must not be imagined, however, +from this source alone flows all the relief that the nation’s humanity +and benevolence provides for the relief of its poor and helpless. +Besides our parochial asylums there are many important charities of +magnitude, providing a sum of at least 2,000,000_l._ a-year for the +relief of want and suffering in London, independently of legal and local +provision to an amount hardly calculable. We content ourselves with +stating one simple fact—that all this charity, as now bestowed and +applied, fails to accomplish the direct object in view. If the +2,000,000_l._ thus contributed did in some way or other suffice, in +conjunction with other funds, to banish want and suffering from the +precincts of the metropolis, we should have very little to say. But the +fact is that, after all these incredible efforts to relieve distress, +want and suffering are so prevalent that it might be fancied charity was +dead amongst us. Now that, at any rate, cannot be a result in which +anybody would willingly acquiesce. If the money was spent, and the poor +were relieved, many people probably would never trouble themselves to +inquire any further; but though the money is spent, the poor are not +cured of their poverty. In reality this very fact is accountable in +itself for much of that accumulation of agencies, institutions, and +efforts which our statistics expose. As has been recently remarked: “A +certain expenditure by the hands of a certain society fails to produce +the effect anticipated, and so the result is a new society, with a new +expenditure, warranted to be more successful. It would be a curious item +in the account if the number and succession of fresh charities, year +after year, could be stated. They would probably be found, like +religious foundations, taking some new forms according to the discoveries +or presumptions of the age; but all this while the old charities are +still going on, and the new charity becomes old in its turn, to be +followed, though not superseded, by a fresh creation in due time.” + +If it be asked what, under such circumstances, the public can be expected +to do, we answer, that it may really do much by easy inquiry and natural +conclusions. Whenever an institution is supported by voluntary +contributions, the contributors, if they did but know it, have the entire +control of the establishment in their hands; they can stop the supplies, +they hold the purse, and they can stipulate for any kind of information, +disclosure, or reform at their pleasure. They can exact the publication +of accounts at stated intervals, and the production of the balance-sheet +according to any given form. It is at their discretion to insist upon +amalgamation, reorganisation, or any other promising measure. There is +good reason for the exercise of these powers. We have said that all this +charity fails to accomplish its one immediate object—the relief of the +needy; but that is a very imperfect statement of the case. The fact is +that pauperism, want, and suffering are rapidly growing upon us in this +metropolis, and we are making little or no headway against the torrent. +The administration of the Poor-law is as unsuccessful as that of private +benevolence. Legal rates, like voluntary subscriptions, increase in +amount, till the burden can hardly be endured; and still the cry for aid +continues. Is nothing to be done, then, save to go on in the very course +which has proved fruitless? Must we still continue giving, when giving +to all appearances does so little good? It would be better to survey the +extent and nature of agencies actually at work, and to see whether they +cannot be made to yield greater results. + +Confining ourselves, however, to what chiefly concerns the hardly-pressed +ratepayers of the metropolis, its vagrancy and pauperism, there at once +arises the question, How can this enormous army of helpless ones be +provided for in the most satisfactory manner?—This problem has puzzled +the social economist since that bygone happy age when poor-rates were +unknown, and the “collector” appeared in a form no more formidable than +that of the parish priest, who, from his pulpit, exhorted his +congregation to give according to their means, and not to forget the +poor-box as they passed out. + +It is not a “poor-box” of ordinary dimensions that would contain the +prodigious sums necessary to the maintenance of the hundred thousand +ill-clad and hungry ones that, in modern times, plague the metropolis. +Gradually the sum-total required has crept up, till, at the present time, +it has attained dimensions that press on the neck of the striving people +like the Old Man of the Sea who so tormented Sinbad, and threatened to +strangle him. + +In London alone the cost of relief has doubled since 1851. In that year +the total relief amounted to 659,000_l._; in 1858 it had increased to +870,000_l._; in 1867 to 1,180,000_l._; and in 1868 to 1,317,000_l._ The +population within this time has increased from 2,360,000 to something +like 3,100,000, the estimated population at the present time; so that +while the population has increased by only 34 per cent, the cost of +relief has exactly doubled. Thirteen per cent of the whole population of +London were relieved as paupers in 1851, and in 1868 the percentage had +increased to 16. In 1861 the Strand Union had a decreasing population of +8,305, and in 1868 it relieved one in every five, or 20 per cent, of that +population. Besides this, the cost of relief per head within the +workhouse had much increased within the last 15 years. The cost of food +consumed had increased from 2_s._ 9_d._ per head, per week, in 1853, to +4_s._ 11_d._ in 1868; while we have the authority of Mr. Leone Levi for +the statement that a farm-labourer expended only 3_s._ a-week on food for +himself. + +In 1853 the population of England and Wales was in round numbers +18,404,000, and in 1867 21,429,000, being an increase of 3,000,000. The +number of paupers, exclusive of vagrants, in receipt of relief in England +and Wales was, in 1854, 818,000, and in 1868 1,034,000, showing an +increase of 216,000. The total amount expended in relief to the poor and +for other purposes, county and police-rates, &c., was, in 1853, +6,854,000_l._, and in 1867 10,905,000_l._, showing an increase of +4,000,000_l._ This total expenditure was distributable under two heads. +The amount expended in actual relief to the poor was, in 1853, +4,939,000_l._, as against 6,959,000_l._ in 1867, being an increase of +2,020,000_l._ The amount expended, on the other hand, for other +purposes, county- and police-rates, &c., was, in 1853, 1,915,000_l._, +against 3,945,000_l._ in 1867. + +And now comes the vexed question, Who are the people who, amongst them, +in the metropolis alone, contribute this great sum of _thirteen hundred +thousand pounds_, and in what proportion is the heavy responsibility +divided? This is the most unsatisfactory part of the whole business. +If, as it really appears, out of a population of two millions and +three-quarters there must be reckoned a hundred and forty thousand who +from various causes are helpless to maintain themselves, nothing remains +but to maintain them; at the same time it is only natural that every man +should expect to contribute his fair share, and no more. But this is by +no means the prevailing system. Some pay twopence; others tenpence, as +the saying is. + +By an examination of the statistics as to the relative contributions of +the different unions, we find the discrepancy so great as to call for +early and urgent legislation; and despite the many and various arguments +brought to bear against amalgamation and equalisation, there is no other +mode of dealing with this great and important question that appears more +just, or more likely to lead to the wished-for result. That the reader +may judge for himself of the magnitude of the injustice that exists under +the present system will not require much more evidence than the following +facts will supply. The metropolis is divided into five districts, and +these again into unions to the number of six-and-thirty, many of which in +their principal characteristics differ greatly from each other. We find +the West and Central Districts relieve each between 19,000 and 20,000 +poor, the Eastern District about 32,000, and the North District some +27,000; but the Southern District by far exceeds the rest, as the report +states that there are in receipt of relief no less than 43,000 paupers. +These bare statistics, however, though they may appear at first sight to +affect the question, do not influence it so much as might be imagined; +the weight of the burden is determined by the proportion that the +property on which the poor-rate is levied bears to the expenditure in the +different unions. For example, St. George’s, Hanover-square, contributes +about the same amount (viz. 30,000_l._) to the relief of paupers as St. +George’s-in-the-East; but take into consideration the fact that the +western union contains a population of about 90,000, and property at the +ratable value of nearly 1,000,000_l._, and the eastern union has less +than 50,000 inhabitants, and the estimated value of the property is only +180,000_l._; the consequence is that the poor-rate in one union is +upwards of five times heavier than the other, being 8_d._ in the pound in +St. George’s, Hanover-square, and no less than 3_s._ 5¾_d._ in St. +George’s-in-the-East. The reader may imagine that this great discrepancy +may arise in some degree from the fact that the two unions mentioned are +at the extreme ends of the metropolis; but even where unions are +contiguous to one another the same contrasts are found. The City of +London is situated between the unions of East London and West London: in +the two latter the rates are not very unequal, being about 2_s._ 11_d._ +in one and 3_s._ 1_d._ in the other; but in the City of London, one of +the richest of the thirty-six unions in the metropolis, the poor-rate is +only 7_d._ in the pound. The cause of this is that, if the estimates are +correct, the City of London Union contains just ten times the amount of +rateable property that the East London does, the amounts being +1,800,000_l._ and 180,000_l._ respectively. Again, Bethnal Green does +not contribute so much as Islington, and yet its poor-rates are four +times as high. In general, however, we find that in unions contiguous to +one another, the rates do not vary in amount to any great extent. In the +North, for instance, they range from 1_s._ to 1_s._ 7_d._, Hampstead +being the exception, and below the shilling. In the South they are +rather higher, being from 1_s._ 2_d._ to 2_s._ 11_d._, Lewisham alone +being below the shilling. In the East, as might be expected, the figures +are fearfully high, all, with one exception, being above 2_s._ 6_d._, and +in the majority of cases exceeding 3_s._ Bethnal Green, that most +afflicted of all unions, is the highest, reaching the enormous sum of +3_s._ 11_d._ in the pound, being nearly seven times the amount of the +rate in the City of London. In the Central District, which is situated +in an intermediate position, the rates range from 1_s._ 11_d._ to 3_s._, +the City itself being excluded. + +No one who reads the foregoing statistics can fail to be struck with the +inequality and mismanagement that they exhibit. No one can deny that +this state of affairs urgently needs some reorganisation or reform, for +who could defend the present system that makes the poor pay most, and the +rich least, towards the support and maintenance of our poor? + +There appears to be a very general impression that the sum levied for the +relief of the poor goes entirely to the relief of the poor; but there is +a great distinction between the sum levied and the sum actually expended +for that purpose. Taking the average amount of poor-rates levied +throughout England and Wales for the same periods, it is found that for +the ten years ending 1860 the average was 7,796,019_l._; for the seven +years ending 1867, 9,189,386_l._; and for the latest year, 1868, when a +number of other charges were levied nominally under the same head, +11,054,513_l._ To gain an idea of the amount of relief afforded, it was +necessary to look to the amount which had actually been expended. For +the ten years ending 1860 the average amount expended for the relief of +the poor was 5,476,454_l._; for the seven years ending 1867, +6,353,000_l._; and in the latest year, 7,498,000_l._ Therefore the +amount actually expended in the relief of the poor was, in the ten years +ending 1860, at the average annual rate of 5_s._ 9½_d._ per head upon the +population; for the seven years ending 1867, 6_s._ 1_d._; and for the +year 1868, 6_s._ 11½_d._ The average number of paupers for the year +ending Lady-day 1849 was 1,088,659, while in 1868 they had decreased to +992,640. Thus, in 1849 there were 62 paupers for every 1,000 of the +population, and in 1868 there were but 46 for every 1,000, being 16 per +1,000 less in the latter than in the former year. In 1834, the rate per +head which was paid for the relief of the poor was 9_s._ 1_d._ If we +continued in 1868 to pay the same rate which was paid in 1849, the +amount, instead of being 6,960,000_l._ would be 9,700,000_l._, showing a +balance of 2,740,000_l._ in favour of 1868. + +The very heart and core of the poor-law difficulty is to discriminate +between poverty deserving of help, and only requiring it just to tide +over an ugly crisis, and those male and female pests of every civilised +community whose natural complexion is dirt, whose brow would sweat at the +bare idea of earning their bread, and whose stock-in-trade is rags and +impudence. In his capacity of guardian of the casual ward, Mr. Bumble is +a person who has no belief in decent poverty. To his way of thinking, +poverty in a clean shirt is no more than a dodge intended to impose on +the well-known tenderness of his disposition. Penury in a tidy cotton +gown, to his keen discernment, is nothing better than “farden pride”—a +weakness he feels it is his bounden duty to snub and correct whenever he +meets with it. It is altogether a mistake to suppose that all the worthy +strivers in the battle for bread, and who, through misfortune and +sickness, sink in the rucks and furrows of that crowded field, find their +way, by a sort of natural “drainage system,” to the workhouse. There are +poorer folks than paupers. To be a pauper is at least to have a coat to +wear, none the less warm because it is made of gray cloth, and to have an +undisputed claim on the butcher and the baker. It is the preservers of +their “farden pride,” as Bumble stigmatises it, but which is really +bravery and noble patience, who are most familiar with the scratching at +their door of the gaunt wolf FAMINE; the hopeful unfortunates who are +content to struggle on, though with no more than the tips of their +unlucky noses above the waters of tribulation—to struggle and still +struggle, though they sink, rather than acknowledge themselves no better +than the repulsive mob of cadgers by profession Mr. Bumble classes them +with. + +I have been asked many times since, when, on a memorable occasion, I +volunteered into the ranks of pauperism and assumed its regimentals, what +was the one foremost thought or anxiety that beset me as I lay in that +den of horror. Nothing can be more simple or honest than my answer to +that question. This was it—_What if it were true_? What if, instead of +your every sense revolting from the unaccustomed dreadfulness you have +brought it into contact with, it were your lot to grow used to, and +endure it all, until merciful death delivered you? What if these +squalid, unsightly rags, the story of your being some poor devil of an +engraver, who really could not help being desperately hard-up and shabby, +were all _real_? And why not? Since in all vast commercial communities +there must always exist a proportion of beggars and paupers, what have I +done that I should be exempt? Am I—are all of us here so comfortably +circumstanced because we deserve nothing less? What man dare rise and +say so? Why, there are a dozen slippery paths to the direst ways of +Poverty that the smartest among us may stumble on any day. Again, let us +consider who are they who are most liable to slip. Why, that very class +that the nation is so mightily proud of, and apt at bragging about! The +working man, with his honest horny hand and his broad shoulders, who +earns his daily bread by the sweat of his brow! We never tire of +expressing our admiration for the noble fellow. There is something so +manly, so admirable in an individual standing up, single-handed and +cheerful-hearted, and exclaiming, in the face of the whole world, “With +these two hands, and by the aid of the strength it has pleased God to +bless me with, my wife and my youngsters and myself eat, drink, and are +clothed, and no man can call me his debtor!” He is a fellow to admire; +we can afford to admire him, and we do—for just so long as he can +maintain his independence and stand without help. But should misfortune +in any of its hundred unexpected shapes assail him, should he fall sick +or work fail him, and he be unable to keep out the wolf that presently +eats up his few household goods, rendering him homeless, _then_ we turn +him and his little family over to the tender mercies of Mr. Bumble, who +includes him in the last batch of impostors and skulkers that have been +delivered to his keeping. I don’t say that, as matters are managed at +present, we can well avoid doing so; but that does not mitigate the poor +fellow’s hardship. + +It is to be hoped that we are gradually emerging from our bemuddlement; +but time was, and that at no very remote period, when to be poor and +houseless and hungry were accounted worse sins against society than +begging or stealing, even—that is to say, if we may judge from the method +of treatment in each case pursued; for while the ruffian who lay wait for +you in the dark, and well-nigh strangled you for the sake of as much +money as you might chance to have in your pocket, or the brute who +precipitated his wife from a third-floor window, claimed and was entitled +to calm judicial investigation into the measure of his iniquity and its +deserving, the poor fellow who became a casual pauper out of sheer +misfortune and hard necessity was without a voice or a single friend. +The pig-headed Jack-in-office, whom the ratepayers employed and had +confidence in, had no mercy for him. They never considered that it was +_because_ he preferred to stave off the pangs of hunger by means of a +crust off a parish loaf rather than dine on stolen roast beef, that he +came knocking at the workhouse-gate, craving shelter and a mouthful of +bread! But _one_ idea pervaded the otherwise empty region that Bumble’s +cocked-hat covered, and that was, that the man who would beg a parish +loaf was more mean and contemptible than the one who, with a proper and +independent spirit, as well as a respect for the parochial purse, stole +one; and he treated his victim accordingly. + +Vagrancy has been pronounced by the law to be a crime. Even if regarded +in its mildest and least mischievous aspect, it can be nothing less than +obtaining money under false pretences. It is solely by false pretences +and false representations that the roving tramp obtains sustenance from +the charitable. We have it on the authority of the chief constable of +Westmoreland, that ninety-nine out of every hundred professional +mendicants are likewise professional thieves, and practise either trade +as occasion serves. The same authority attributes to men of this +character the greater number of burglaries, highway robberies, and petty +larcenies, that take place; and gives it as his opinion, that if the +present system of permitting professional tramps to wander about the +country was done away with, a great deal of crime would be prevented, and +an immense good conferred on the community. + +There can be no question that it is, as a member of parliament recently +expressed it, “the large charitable heart of the country” that is +responsible in great part for the enormous amount of misapplied alms. +People, in giving, recognised the fact that many of those whom they +relieved were impostors and utterly unworthy of their charity; but they +felt that if they refused to give, some fellow-creature, in consequence +of their refusal, might suffer seriously from the privations of hunger +and want of shelter. As long as they felt that their refusal might +possibly be attended with these results, so long would they open their +hand with the same readiness that they now did. The only remedy for this +is, that every destitute person in the country should find food and +shelter forthcoming immediately on application. Vagrancy, says the +authority here quoted, is partly the result of old habits and old times, +when the only question the tramp was asked was, “Where do you belong to?” +Instead of that being the first question, it should be the last. The +first question should be, “Are you in want, and how do you prove it?” + +In 1858 the number of vagrants was 2416; in 1859, 2153; in 1860, 1941; in +1861, 2830; in 1862, 4234; in 1863, 3158; in 1864, 3339; in 1865, 4450; +in 1866, 5017; in 1867, 6129; and in 1868, 7946. + +There can be no doubt, however, that a vast number of tramps circulate +throughout the country, of whom we have no returns. “Various means,” +says the writer above alluded to, “have been tried to check them, but in +vain. If I venture to recommend any remedy, it must be, that repression, +if applied, must be systematic and general. It is not of the slightest +use putting this repression in force in one part of the country while the +remainder is under a different system. The whole country must be under +the same general system, tending to the same general result. In the +first place, let all the inmates of the casual wards be placed under the +care of the police. Let them be visited by the police morning and night. +Let lists be made out and circulated through the country; and in no case, +except upon a ticket given by the police, let any relief be given more +than once; and unless a man is able to satisfy the police that his errand +was good, and that he was in search of work, let him be sent back +summarily without relief. It is the habit of all this class to make a +regular route, and they received relief at every casual ward, thus laying +the whole country under contribution.” + +True as this argument may be in the main, we cannot take kindly to the +idea, that every unfortunate homeless wretch who applies at night to the +casual ward for a crust and shelter shall be treated as a professional +tramp until he prove himself a worthy object for relief. + +It is not a little remarkable, that, however legislators may disagree as +to the general utility of the Poor-law under its present aspect, they are +unanimous in approving of the “labour test;” whereas, according to the +opportunities I have had of observing its working, it is, to my thinking, +one of the faultiest wheels in the whole machine. The great error +chiefly consists in the power it confers on each workhouse-master to +impose on the tested such work, both as regards quantity and quality, as +he may see fit. I have witnessed instances in which the “labour test,” +instead of proving a man’s willingness to work for what he receives, +rather takes the form of a barbarous tyranny, seemingly calculated as +nothing else than as a test of a poor fellow’s control of his temper. +Where is the use of testing a man’s willingness to work, if he is +compelled in the process to exhaust his strength and waste his time to an +extent that leaves him no other course but to seek for his hunger and +weariness to-night the same remedy as he had recourse to last night? +They manage these things better in certain parts of the country and in +model metropolitan parishes, but in others the “test” system is a mere +“farce.” I found it so at Lambeth in 1866; and when again I made a tour +of inspection, two years afterwards, precisely the same process was +enforced. This was it. At night, when a man applied for admittance to +the casual ward, he received the regulation dole of bread, and then went +to bed as early as half-past eight or nine. He was called up at seven in +the morning, and before eight received a bit more bread and a drop of +gruel. This was the “breakfast” with which he was fortified previous to +his displaying his prowess as a willing labourer. + +The chief of the work done by the “casual” at the workhouse in question +is “crank-work.” The crank is a sort of gigantic hand-mill for grinding +corn. A series of “cranks” or revolving bars extend across the +labour-shed in a double or triple row, although by some means the result +of the joint labour of the full number of operatives, forty or fifty in +number, is concentrated at that point where the power is required. Let +us see how “crank-work” of this sort is applicable as a test of a man’s +willingness and industry. + +It may be safely taken that of the, say, forty-five “casuals” assembled, +two-thirds, or thirty, will belong to that class that is, without doubt, +the very worst in the world—the hulking villanous sort, too lazy to work +and too cowardly to take openly to the trade of thieving, and who make an +easy compromise between the two states, enacting the parts of savage +bully or whining cadger, as opportunity serves. Thirty of these, and +fifteen real unfortunates who are driven to seek this shabby shelter only +by dire necessity. In the first place, we have to consider that the +out-and-out vagrant is a well-nurtured man, and possesses the full +average of physical strength; whereas the poor half-starved wretch, whose +poverty is to be pitied, is weak through long fasting and privation. But +no selection is made. Here is an extended crank-handle, at which six +willing men may by diligent application perform so much work within a +given time. It must be understood that the said work is calculated on +the known physical ability of the able-bodied as well as the +willing-minded man; and it is in this that the great injustice consists. +Let us take a single crank. It is in charge of six men, and, by their +joint efforts, a sack of corn, say, may be ground in an hour. But joint +effort is quite out of the question. Even while the taskmaster is +present the vagrants of the gang at the crank—four out of six, be it +remembered—will make but the merest pretence of grasping the bar and +turning it with energy; they will just close their hands about it, and +increase the labour of the willing minority by compelling them to lift +their lazy arms as well as the bar. But as soon as the taskmaster has +departed, even a pretence of work ceases. The vagrants simply stroll +away from the work and amuse themselves. Nevertheless, the work has to +be done; the sack of corn must be ground before the overnight batch of +casuals will be allowed to depart. But the vagrants are in no hurry; the +casual ward serves them as a sort of handy club-room in which to while +away the early hours of tiresome morning, and to discuss with each other +the most interesting topics of the day. It is their desire, especially +if it should happen to be a wet, cold, or otherwise miserable morning, to +“spin-out” the time as long as possible; and this they well know may best +be done by leaving the weak few to struggle through the work apportioned +to the many; and they are not of the sort to be balked when they are bent +in such a direction. + +The result is, as may be frequently observed, that the labour-shed is not +cleared until nearly eleven o’clock in the morning, by which time the +honest and really industrious minority have proved their worthiness of +relief to an extent that leaves them scarcely a leg to stand on. They +have been working downright hard since eight o’clock. The slice of bread +and the drop of gruel they received in the morning is exhausted within +them; their shaky and enfeebled limbs are a-tremble with the unaccustomed +labour; and, it being eleven o’clock in the day, it is altogether too +late to hope to pick-up a job, and nothing remains for a poor fellow but +to saunter idly the day through, bemoaning the desperate penalty he is +compelled to pay for a mouthful of parish bread and the privilege of +reposing in an uncomfortable hovel, till night comes again, and once more +he is found waiting at the casual gate. + +It may be said that no one desires this, that it is well understood by +all concerned that a workhouse is a place intended for the relief of the +really helpless and unable, and not for the sustenance of imposture and +vagrancy; but that under the present system it is impossible to avoid +such instances of injustice as that just quoted. This, however, is not +the case. It has been shown in numerous cases that it is possible to +economise pauper-labour so that it shall be fairly distributed, and at +the same time return some sort of profit. + +It appears that in Liverpool and Manchester corn-grinding by _hand-mills_ +is chiefly used, as a task for vagrants or able-bodied in-door poor. In +the absence of other more suitable employment, there is no reason why +they should not be so employed. As, however, but one person can be +employed at the same time on one mill, and the cost of each mill, +including fixing, may be roughly stated at from 3_l._ to 4_l._, it is +clear that no very large number of persons is likely to be thus employed +in any one yard. Despite this and other minor objections, however, it +appears that corn-grinding is as good a labour-test as you can have in +workhouses. It is not remunerative; it is a work that is disliked; it is +really hard; and being one by which there is no actual loss by +accumulation of unsaleable stock, it has much to commend it. At the +establishments in question a fairly strong able-bodied man is required to +grind 120 lbs. of corn daily, and this is sufficient to occupy him the +whole day. The male vagrants at Liverpool are required to grind 30 lbs. +of corn each at night, and 30 lbs. the following morning. At Manchester +the task for male vagrants is 45 lbs. each, of which one half is required +to be ground at night, and the remainder the next morning. At the +Liverpool workhouse they have 36 of these mills; at Manchester, 40 at the +new or suburban workhouse for able-bodied inmates, and 35 at the house of +industry adjoining the old workhouse. The mills at the latter are +chiefly used for vagrants, but upon these able-bodied men in receipt of +out-door relief are also occasionally employed. The ordinary task-work +for these last is, however, either farm-labour at the new workhouse, or +oakum-picking at the house of industry, according to the nature of their +former pursuits. During the cotton famine there was also a large +stone-yard, expressly hired and fitted-up for this class. Another large +building was set apart during that period for the employment of adult +females in receipt of relief in sewing and knitting, and in cutting-out +and making-up clothing; a stock of materials being provided by the +guardians, and an experienced female superintendent of labour placed in +charge of the establishment. + +The experiment of selecting a limited number of men from the stone-yard, +and setting them to work in scavenging the streets, has now been tried +for rather more than six months by the vestry of St. Luke’s, City-road, +with a fair amount of success; the men (fifteen from the stone-yard, and +ten from the workhouse) were entirely withdrawn from the relief-lists, +and employed by the vestry at the same rate of wages as the contractor +who previously did the work was in the habit of paying. Of these men, +according to the latest report, fourteen are still thus employed, and +four have obtained other employment. The remaining seven were +discharged—three as physically incapable, and four for insubordination. +The conduct of the majority under strict supervision is said to have been +fairly good, though not first-rate; and it is undoubtedly something +gained to have obtained useful work from fourteen out of twenty-five, and +to have afforded four more an opportunity of maintaining themselves by +other independent labour. + +At the same time it is clear that such a course is open to two +objections: first, it must have a tendency to displace independent +labour; and secondly, if these paupers are (as in St. Luke’s) at once +employed for wages, it would, unless guarded by making them pass through +a long probationary period of task-work, tend to encourage poor persons +out of employ to throw themselves on the rates, in order thus to obtain +remunerative employment. The better course would seem to be, where +arrangements can be made by the local authorities, for the local Board to +provide only the requisite implements and superintendence, and for the +guardians in the first instance to give the labour of the men to the +parish, paying them the ordinary relief for such work as task-work. If +this were done—and care taken to put them on as extra hands only, to +sweep the pavements, or such other work as is not ordinarily undertaken +by the contractors—there can be no doubt that an outlet might be thus +afforded for some of the better-conducted paupers, after a period of real +probationary task-work, to show themselves fit for independent +employment, and so to extricate themselves from the pauper ranks. + + “It would undoubtedly conduce much to the utility of these + labour-yards if the guardians comprising the labour or out-door + relief committee would, as they now do in some unions, frequently + visit the yard, and thus by personal observation make themselves + acquainted with the conduct and characters of the paupers, with the + nature of the superintendence bestowed upon them, and with the manner + in which the work is performed. A channel of communication may thus + be formed between employers of labour when in want of hands and those + unemployed workmen who may by sheer necessity have been driven to + apply for and accept relief in this unpalatable form. The guardians + themselves, frequently large employers of labour, are for the most + part well acquainted with those who are compelled to apply for parish + work; and when they see a steady and willing worker in the yard will + naturally inquire into his antecedents. Where the result of these + inquiries is satisfactory, they will, it may be expected, gladly + avail themselves of the earliest opportunity of obtaining for such a + one employment in his previous occupation, or in any other which may + appear to be suited to his capacity. The personal influence and + supervision of individual guardians can scarcely be overrated; and + thus a bond of sympathy will gradually arise between the guardians + and the deserving poor, which, coupled with the enforcement of real + work, will, it may be hoped, prove not without an ultimate good + effect upon even those hardened idlers who have been hitherto too + often found in these yards the ringleaders in every species of + disturbance.” + +The above-quoted is the suggestion of the Chairman of the Poor-law Board, +and well indeed would it be, for humanity’s sake, that it should be +regarded. As matters are at present arranged, the labour-system is +simply disgusting. Take Paddington stone-yard, for instance. Unless it +is altered since last year, the peculiar method of doing business there +adopted is this: a man gets an order for stone-breaking, the pay for +which is, say, eighteenpence a “yard.” At most workhouses, when a man is +put to this kind of labour he is paid by the bushel: and that is quite +fair, because a poor fellow unused to stone-breaking usually makes a sad +mess of it. He takes hammer in hand, and sets a lump of granite before +him with the idea of smashing it into fragments; but this requires +“knack,” that is to be acquired only by experience. The blows he deals +the stone will not crack it, and all that he succeeds in doing for the +first hour or two is to chip away the corners of one lump after another, +accumulating perhaps a hatful of chips and dust. By the end of the day, +however, he may have managed to break four bushels, and this at +eighteenpence a “yard” would be valued at sixpence, and he would be paid +accordingly. + +But not at Paddington. I had some talk with the worthy yard-master of +that establishment, and he enlightened me as to their way of doing +business there. “Bushels! No; we don’t deal in bushels here,” was his +contemptuous reply to a question I put to him. “I can’t waste my time in +measuring up haporths of stuff all day long. It’s half a yard or none +here, and no mistake.” + +“Do you mean, that unless a man engages to break at least half a yard, +you will not employ him?” + +“I mean to say, whether he engages or not, that he’s got to do it.” + +“And suppose that he fails?” + +“Then he don’t get paid.” + +“He doesn’t get paid for the half-yard, you mean?” + +“He doesn’t get paid at all. I don’t never measure for less than a +half-yard, and so he can’t be paid.” + +“But what becomes of the few bushels of stone he has been able to break?” + +“O, he sells ’em to the others for what they’ll give for ’em, to put +along with theirs. A halfpenny or a penny—anything. He’s glad to take +it; it’s that or none.” + +“And do you have many come here who can’t break half a yard of granite in +a day?” + +“Lots of ’em. But they don’t come again; one taste of Paddington is +enough for ’em.” + +What does the reader think of the “labour-test” in this case? + +An institution has, it appears, been established by the Birmingham +guardians since the autumn of 1867, for the employment of able-bodied +women in oakum-picking for out-door relief, the result of which has been, +that not only has the workhouse been relieved of a large number of +troublesome inmates of this class, with whom it was previously crowded, +but the applications for relief have diminished in a proportionate ratio. +Every effort is made to induce the women thus employed to seek for more +profitable employment, and the applications at the establishment for +female labour are said to be numerous. The superintendent, who was +formerly matron at the Birmingham workhouse, reports to Mr. Corbett, that +“from the opening of the establishment about fifteen months ago, nineteen +have been hired as domestic servants, ten have obtained engagements in +other situations, and two have married.” In addition to these, some +forty have obtained temporary employment, of whom three only have +returned to work for relief at the end of the year. The total estimated +saving on orders issued for work, as compared with the maintenance of the +women as inmates of the workhouse, during the year ending 29th September +last, is calculated to have been 646_l._ 0_s._ 7_d._ Indeed, so +satisfactory has been the working of the system during the first year of +its existence, that the guardians have resolved to apply the same test to +the male applicants for relief, and a neighbouring house has been engaged +and fitted-up for putting a similar plan in operation with respect to +men. The total number of orders issued during the first twelve months +after this establishment for female labour was opened was 719; of which, +however, only 456 were used, the other applicants either not being in +want of the relief asked for, or having found work elsewhere. Each woman +is required to pick 3 lbs. of oakum per diem, for which she receives +9_d._, or 4_s._ 6_d._ per week; and if she has one or more children, she +is allowed at the rate of 3_d._ a-day additional relief for each child. +The highest number paid for during any week has been 95 women and 25 +children. Some days during the summer there has been but one at work, +and in the last week of December last there were but eleven. The house +is said to be “virtually cleared of a most troublesome class of inmates.” + +The guardians of St. Margaret and St. John, Westminster, have, it +appears, adopted a system embracing that pursued both at Manchester and +Birmingham, and have provided accommodation for employing able-bodied +women out of the workhouse both in oakum-picking and needlework; and, say +the committee, “a similar course will probably be found advantageous in +other metropolitan parishes or unions, whenever the number of this class +who are applicants for relief exceeds the accommodation or the means of +employment which can be found for them within the workhouse. At the same +time we would especially urge that provision should be made in every +workhouse for a better classification of the able-bodied women, and for +the steady and useful employment of this class of inmates. Those who are +not employed in the laundry and washhouse, or in scrubbing, bed-making, +or other domestic work, should be placed under the superintendence of a +firm and judicious task-mistress, and engaged in mending, making, and +cutting-out all the linen and clothing required for the workhouse and +infirmary; and much work might be done in this way for the new asylums +about to be built under the provisions of the Metropolitan Poor Act.” +This plan of a large needle-room presided over by an efficient officer +has been found most successful in its results at the new workhouse of the +Manchester guardians, as well in improving the character of the young +women who remain any time in the house, and fitting them for home duties +after they leave, as in deterring incorrigible profligates from resorting +to the workhouse, as they were in the habit of doing. Many now come into +our metropolitan workhouses who can neither knit nor sew nor darn a +stocking. This they can at least be taught to do; and we gather from the +experience of Manchester, that while at first to the idle and dissolute +the enforced silence and order of the needle-room is far more irksome +than the comparative license and desultory work of the ordinary +oakum-room, those who of necessity remain in the house are found by +degrees to acquire habits of order and neatness, and thus become better +fitted for domestic duties. The following scale of relief for +able-bodied paupers, relieved out of the workhouse and set to work +pursuant to the provisions of the Out-door Relief Regulation Order, is +recommended for adoption by the various Boards of Guardians represented +at a recent conference held under the presidency of Mr. Corbett: + +For a man with wife and one child, 6_d._ and 4 lbs. of bread per day; for +a man with wife and two children, 7_d._ and 4 lbs. of bread per day; for +a man with wife and three children, 7_d._ and 6 lbs. of bread per day; +for a man with wife and four children, 8_d._ and 6 lbs. of bread per day; +for a man with wife and five children, 9_d._ and 6 lbs. of bread per day; +single man, 4_d._ and 2 lbs. of bread per day; single women or widows, +4_d._ and 2 lbs. of bread per day, with an additional 3_d._ per day for +each child; widowers with families to be relieved as if with wife living. + +Where a widow with one or more young children dependent on her and +incapable of contributing to his, her, or their livelihood, can be +properly relieved out of the workhouse, that she be ordinarily allowed +relief at the rate of 1_s._ and one loaf for each child; the relief that +may be requisite for the mother beyond this to be determined according to +the special exigency of the case. That widows without children should, +as a rule, after a period not exceeding three months from the +commencement of their widowhood, be relieved only in the workhouse. +Where the husband of any woman is beyond the seas, or in custody of the +law, or in confinement in an asylum or licensed house as a lunatic or +idiot, such woman should be dealt with as a widow; but where a woman has +been recently deserted by her husband, and there are grounds for +supposing he has gone to seek for work, although out-door relief may be +ordered for two or three weeks, to give him time to communicate with his +family, yet, after such reasonable time has elapsed, the wife and family +should, as a rule, be taken into the workhouse, and proceedings taken +against the husband. That the weekly relief to an aged or infirm man or +woman be from 2_s._ 6_d._ to 3_s._ 6_d._ weekly, partly in money and +partly in kind, according to his or her necessity; that the weekly relief +to aged and infirm couples be 4_s._ to 5_s._, in money or in kind, +according to their necessities; that when thought advisable, relief in +money only may be given to those of the out-door poor who are seventy +years of age and upwards. + +It appears from a recent statement that the guardians of Eversham union +applied not long since for the sanction of the Poor-law Board to a scheme +for boarding-out the orphan children of the workhouse with cottagers at +3_s._ a-week, and 10_s._ a-quarter for clothing; the children to be sent +regularly to school, and to attend divine worship on Sundays; with the +provision that after ten years of age the children may be employed in +labour approved by the guardians, and the wages divided between the +guardians and the person who lodges and clothes them, in addition to the +above payments. In a letter dated the 3d April 1869, the Secretary of +the Poor-law Board states that, provided they could be satisfied that a +thorough system of efficient supervision and control would be established +by the guardians, and the most rigid inquiry instituted at short +intervals into the treatment and education of the children, the Board +have come to the conclusion that they ought not to discourage the +guardians from giving the plan a fair trial, though they cannot be +insensible to the fact that a grave responsibility is thereby incurred. +The Secretary mentions particulars regarding which especial care should +be taken, such as the health of the children to be placed out, the +condition of the persons to whom they are intrusted, and the necessary +periodical inspection. The Board will watch the experiment with the +greatest interest, but with some anxiety. They request the guardians to +communicate to them very fully the detailed arrangements they are +determined to make. The Board cannot approve the proposed arrangement as +to wages. The guardians have no authority to place out children to serve +in any capacity and continue them as paupers. If they are competent to +render service, they come within the description of able-bodied persons, +and out-door relief would not be lawful. Upon entering into service, +they would cease to be paupers, and would have the protection of the +provisions of the Act of 1851 relating to young persons hired from a +workhouse as servants, or bound out as pauper apprentices. The +hiring-out of adults by the guardians is expressly prohibited by 56 +George III., _c._ 129. + +The great principle of the Poor-law is to make people do anything rather +than go into the workhouse, and the effect is to cause people to sell +their furniture before they will submit to the degradation; for +degradation it is to an honest hardworking man, and no distinction is +made. The effect of the Poor-law has been to drive men away from the +country to the large towns, and from one large town to another, till +eventually they find their way up to London, and we are now face to face +with the large army of vagabonds and vagrants thus created. A man, once +compelled to break-up his house, once driven from the locality to which +he was attached, and where his family had lived perhaps for centuries, +became of necessity a vagrant, and but one short step was needed to make +him a thief. + +It would be a grand step in the right direction, if a means could be +safely adopted that would save a man driven to pauperism from breaking-up +his home. The experiment has, it appears, been successfully adopted in +Manchester, and may prove generally practicable. The guardians in that +city have provided rooms in which the furniture or other household goods +of persons compelled to seek a temporary refuge in the house may be +stored. It would not do, of course, to enable people to treat the +workhouse as a kind of hotel, to which they might retire without +inconvenience, and where they might live upon the ratepayers until a +pressure was passed. Perhaps the confinement and the separation of +family-ties which the workhouse involves would sufficiently prevent the +privilege being abused; but even if such a convenience would need some +limitation in ordinary times, it might be readily granted on an occasion +of exceptional pressure, and it would then produce the greatest +advantages both to the poor and to the ratepayers. The worst consequence +of the workhouse test is, that if a poor man under momentary pressure is +forced to accept it and break-up his home, it is almost impossible for +him to recover himself. The household goods of a poor man may not be +much, but they are a great deal to him; once gone, he can rarely replace +them, and the sacrifice frequently breaks both his own and his wife’s +spirit. If the danger of thus making a man a chronic pauper were +avoided, the guardians might offer the test with much less hesitation; +relief might be far more stringently, and at the same time more +effectually, administered. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. +THE BEST REMEDY. + + +_Emigration_—_The various Fields_—_Distinguish the industrious Worker in +need of temporary Relief_—_Last Words_. + +ALL other remedies considered, we come back to that which is cheapest, +most lasting, and in every way the best—emigration. This, of course, as +applying to unwilling and undeserved pauperism. These are the sufferers +that our colonies are waiting to receive with open arms. They don’t want +tramps and vagrants. They won’t have them, well knowing the plague such +vermin would be in a land whose fatness runs to waste. But what they are +willing to receive, gladly and hospitably, are men and women, healthy, +and of a mind to work honestly for a liberal wage. New Zealand has room +for ten thousand such; so has Australia and Canada. + +It would be a happy alteration, if some milder term than “pauper” might +be invented to distinguish the industrious worker, temporarily +distressed, so as to be compelled to avail himself of a little parochial +assistance, from the confirmed and habitual recipient of the workhouse +dole. As was pertinently remarked by Colonel Maude, at a recent meeting +held in the rooms of the Society of Arts, and at which the policy of +assisting willing workers to emigrate to New Zealand was argued: + + “There are people who are fond of putting forward the offensive + doctrine, that a man who is a ‘pauper,’ as they call him, has thereby + become unfit ever again to exercise the self-reliance and + independence in any other country necessary to procure him a living, + the want of which qualities has brought him to the abject condition + he is now in. Like most sweeping generalities, this is both false + and cruel. The condition of the wage-paid class is, in the nature of + things, more dependent than that of any other; and without for a + moment depreciating the wisdom of frugality and thrift, I would ask + some of those who are in the enjoyment of independent incomes, + whether their position would not be almost as desperate if their + income were suddenly withdrawn? And this is constantly happening to + large masses of our artisans, in many cases entirely without fault of + their own; and then how does the State deal with them? It says, ‘If + you will wait until you have parted with your last penny and your + last article of furniture, and then come to us, we will assist you, + but only then, and only in the following manner: The allowance of + food, clothing, and shelter which we will give you shall be the least + which experience proves will keep body and soul together. We will + break the law of God and of nature by separating you from your + family. We will prevent you seeking for work elsewhere by confining + you in a house where employers are not likely to search for you, and + whence you cannot go to seek it yourself. The nature of the work you + shall perform shall not be that in which you are proficient, but + shall be of the most uninteresting and useless kind. Owing to the + small quantity of food we give you, you will not be able to exert + your powers to their best advantage. By resorting to us for + assistance, you will be lowered in the estimation of your + fellow-workmen; and in all probability, as experience tells us, you + will return to us again and again, until you become a confirmed and + helpless pauper.’ + + “We are fond of pointing to Paris, and of showing how dearly the + French pay for their system of providing work for the people; but if + it be true, as I have lately heard, that there are one million of + paupers at this moment in England—and besides these, I am in a + position to state that there cannot be less than one million persons + who would be glad of permanent employment at reasonable wages—I do + not think we have much to boast of. Besides, does anyone doubt that + if the French Emperor were possessed of our illimitable colonies, + with their endless varieties of climate, he would very soon transfer + his surplus population to them, and be very glad of the chance? And + we ought to consider the cost of our paupers. Let us take it at + 10_l._ a head per annum. As a matter of economy, it would pay very + well to capitalise this tax, and at two years’ purchase we could + deport large numbers in great comfort, and thus save a good deal of + money to the ratepayers, even supposing none of the money were ever + refunded; but I hope to show how that amount would be more than + repaid. But I suppose that some people will say, ‘Your system, then, + is transportation?’ My answer might be, ‘If you are not ashamed to + impose the humiliating and unpleasant condition which you at present + force upon an applicant for relief, surely when you have satisfied + yourselves that his lot will be much happier and brighter in the new + home which you offer him, all your compunctions should vanish.’” + +I have ventured to quote Colonel Maude at length, because he is a man +thoroughly conversant with the subject he treats of, and all that he +asserts may be implicitly relied on. And still once again I am tempted +to let another speak for me what perhaps I should speak for myself—the +concluding words of this my last chapter. My justification is, that all +that the writer expresses is emphatically also my opinion; and I am quite +conscious of my inability to convey it in terms at once so graphic and +forcible. The gentleman to whom I am indebted is the writer of a leader +in the _Times_: + + “Here is a mass of unwilling pauperism, stranded, so to speak, by a + receding tide of prosperity on the barren shores of this metropolis. + Something must be done with it. The other object is more important, + but not so pressing. It is, that people who cannot get on well at + home, and who find all their difficulties amounting only to this—that + they have not elbow-room, and that the ground is too thickly + occupied—should be directed and even educated to follow the + instructions of Providence, and go to where there is room for them. + There is no reason why every child in this kingdom should not have + the arguments for and against emigration put before it in good time, + before it arrives at the age when choice is likely to be + precipitated, and change of mind rendered difficult. Children in + these days are taught many things, and there really seems no reason + why they should not be taught something about the colonies, in which + five millions of the British race are now prospering, increasing, and + multiplying, not to speak of the United States. But we must return + to the object more immediately pressing. It is surrounded by + difficulties, as was confessed at the Mansion House, and as is + evident on the facts of the case. But we believe it to be a case for + combined operation. Everything seems to be ready—the good men who + will take the trouble, the agency, the willing guardians, the public + departments, or, at least, their functionaries—and the colonics will + not complain if we send them men willing to work, even though they + may have to learn new trades. The Boards of Guardians and the + Government will contribute, as they have contributed. But they + cannot, in sound principle, do more. The public must come forward. + Sorry as we are to say the word, there is no help for it. This is + not a local, it is a national affair. Chance has thrown these poor + people where they are. It would be a good opportunity thrown away, + if this work were not done out of hand, one may say. Here are some + thousands attracted to the metropolis by its specious promises of a + long and solid prosperity. They cannot go back. They must now be + passed on. Where else to but to the colonies? + + “It must be evident by this time to the poor people themselves that + they may wait and wait for years and years without getting the + employment that suits them best. The metropolitan ratepayers are + losing temper, and making themselves heard. The colonies are all + calling for more men and more women, and more children approaching + the age of work. Several members of the Government attended the + meeting, either in person or by letter, with promises of money, + advice, and aid. There is the encouragement of successful millions, + who within our own lifetime have established themselves all over the + world. Every cause that operated forty years ago operates now with + tenfold force. At that date the only notion of an emigrant was a + rough, misanthropical sort of man, who had read _Robinson Crusoe_, + and who fancied a struggle for existence in some remote corner, with + a patch of land, some small cattle, constant hardships, occasional + disasters and discoveries, welcome or otherwise. It was not doubted + for a moment that arts and sciences and accomplishments must be left + behind. There could be no Muses or Graces in that nether world. The + lady, so devoted as to share her husband’s fortune in that + self-exile, would have to cook, bake, brew, wash, sew, mend, and + darn, if indeed she could spare time from the still more necessary + toil of getting something eatable out of the earth, the river, or the + sea. That was the prevailing picture of emigrant life; and when + missionary tracts and Mr. Burford’s dioramas indicated houses, + streets, and public buildings, it was still surmised that these were + flattering anticipations of what there was to be, just as one may see + rows of semi-detached villas, picturesque drives, shrubberies, + miniature lakes, and gothic churches in the window of a land-agent’s + office, representing the golden futurity of a site now covered by + cattle or corn. Forty years have passed, and where there might be + then a few hard settlers, there are now cities, towns, and villages + which England might be proud of; railways, and every possible + application of art and science on a scale often exceeding our own. + Large congregations meet in handsome churches, stocks and shares are + bought and sold, machinery rattles and whizzes, ladies walk through + show-rooms full of the last Parisian fashions, dinners are given + worthy of our clubs, and operas are performed in a style worthy of + Covent Garden, in places where, forty, years ago, men were eating + each other.” + + * * * * * + + THE END. + + + + +ADVERTISEMENTS + + + Second Edition, price 7s. 6_d._, nearly ready, + + ROBERTS ON BILLIARDS. + + BY JOHN ROBERTS, + CHAMPION OF ENGLAND. + + EDITED BY HENRY BUCK, + + _Author of_ “_The Board of Green Cloth_.” + + WITH TWENTY DIAGRAMS, SHOWING IN A NOVEL MANNER + THE MODE OF “PLAYING BREAKS.” + + CONTENTS. + CHAP. CHAP. + I. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. XII. CANNONS. + II. STANDARD GAMES: ENGLISH. XIII. PLAYING BREAKS. + III. „ AMERICAN. XIV. A PRACTICAL LESSON. + IV. „ FRENCH. XV. POOL AND PYRAMIDS. + V. INCIDENTS IN MY CAREER. XVI. BETTING AND + CUSTOMARY + REGULATIONS. + VI. SCREW AND THE SIDE TWIST. XVII. CURIOSITIES OF THE + GAME. + VII. PLAYERS I HAVE MET. XVIII. HANDICAPS. + VIII. ROOMS AND TABLES. XIX. DEFINITIONS OF + TERMS. + IX. STRENGTH. XX. RULES: ENGLISH, + AMERICAN, FRENCH. + X. LOSING HAZARDS. XXI. CELEBRATED MATCHES. + XI. WINNING HAZARDS. XXII. SHARP PRACTITIONERS. + +PALL MALL GAZETTE.—“Of the many works on Billiards submitted to our +notice lately, that written by Mr. ROBERTS is the best . . . We do not +doubt that every one practising for a month, with the diagrams by his +side, would make more progress than he could boast in a year with the aid +of any other book that we are acquainted with.” + +LAND AND WATER.—“By a series of twenty admirably coloured plates, all the +most likely strokes are demonstrated . . . Well printed and unique of +its kind, and deserving of a place in every young man’s library.” + +SPORTING LIFE.—“On the whole the book may be described as the most +generally interesting on the games we have seen. The part of it that is +original is well written, and the extracts are well selected and +amusing.” + +THE SPORTSMAN.—“The Champion must be commended for having produced what +will become a standard work, and as it is moderate in price, it will +doubtless meet with a large sale.” + +MANCHESTER GUARDIAN.—“He is best in the second part of the volume, which +gives valuable hints on play. These hints have accompanying diagrams, +the execution of which leaves nothing to be desired . . . We must give +Mr. ROBERTS credit for using great brevity, plainness, and clearness of +speech. What he professes to teach he knows thoroughly, and can put into +the fewest words.” + +THE FIELD.—“The qualification which contributes most to Mr. ROBERTS’S +success is the judgment by which he is enabled to calculate +consequences—to select the most favourable stroke when several are open +to him, and to play it with such knowledge of strength and angles as to +leave an easy stroke to follow. It is this acquired judgment only that +any work on Billiards can teach, and to this Mr. ROBERTS wisely confines +his instructions. . . . The plates are well executed in colours, and the +positions are clearly defined.” + + * * * * * + + LONDON: STANLEY RIVERS & CO. + + _Publishers of Scientific Amusements and Pastimes of Society_, + 8 PALSGRAVE PLACE, STRAND, W.C. + + * * * * * + + _In the Press_. + In crown octavo, cloth gilt, price 7_s._ 6_d._ + + STICK TO IT AND CONQUER: + + ENCOURAGEMENTS FOR YOUNG MEN IN THE EARLIER + DAYS OF THEIR CAREER; + + WITH A + + Treasury of Anecdote + + ILLUSTRATIVE OF + + ENGLISH PLUCK, ENDURANCE, AND SUCCESS. + + BY THE + EDITOR OF “HINTS ON THE CULTURE OF CHARACTER.” + + * * * * * + + PART I. + EMBARKING ON LIFE. + + By the Rev. J. R. VERNON, M.A., author of “The Harvest of a Quiet Eye.” + + PART II. + MORAL COURAGE IN MOMENTS OF TRIAL. + + PART III. + THE QUIET HEROISM OF DAILY LIFE. + +By the Rev. FREDERICK ARNOLD, author of “The Path on Earth to the Gate of + Heaven.” + + PART IV. + ENGLISH CHARACTERISTICS: + A Treasury of Choice Anecdote and Biographical Notes. + + 1. STATESMEN. 7. MEN OF ART. + 2. MEN OF PEACE. 8. MEN OF BUSINESS. + 3. MEN OF WAR. 9. MEDICAL MEN. + 4. MEN OF LAW. 10. PIONEERS & TRAVELLERS. + 5. MEN OF LETTERS. 11. ENGINEERS. + 6. MEN OF SCIENCE. 12. INVENTORS. + 13. MEN OF ENTERPRISE, SOCIAL & PHILANTHROPIC. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: STANLEY RIVERS & CO. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEVEN CURSES OF LONDON*** + + +******* This file should be named 45585-0.txt or 45585-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/5/5/8/45585 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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