School-room, Shakspeare-walk, Shadwell, on Monday evening last.
The use of the school-room was kindly granted by Mr. Fletcher, the
proprietor, to whose liberality we stand indebted for many similar
favours. It was convened by our Metropolitan Correspondent, for the
purpose of assembling together some of the lowest class of male
juvenile thieves and vagabonds who infest the metropolis and the
country at large; and although privately called, at only two days’
notice, by the distribution of tickets of admission among the class
in question at the various haunts and dens of infamy to which they
resort, no fewer than 150 of them attended on the occasion. The only
condition to entitle the parties to admission was that they should
be vagrants, and under twenty years of age. They had all assembled
some time before the hour for commencing the proceedings arrived, and
never was witnessed a more distressing spectacle of squalor, rags,
and wretchedness. Some were young men, and some mere children; one,
who styled himself a “cadger,” was six years of age, and several who
confessed themselves “prigs” were only ten. The countenances of the
boys were of various characters. Many were not only good-looking, but
had a frank, ingenuous expression that seemed in no way connected
with innate roguery. Many, on the other hand, had the deep-sunk and
half-averted eye which are so characteristic of natural dishonesty and
cunning. Some had the regular features of lads born of parents in easy
circumstances. The hair of most of the lads was cut very close to the
head, showing their recent liberation from prison; indeed, one might
tell by the comparative length of the crop, the time that each boy had
been out of gaol. All but a few of the elder boys were remarkable,
amidst the rags, filth, and wretchedness of their external appearance,
for the mirth and carelessness impressed upon their countenances. At
first their behaviour was very noisy and disorderly: coarse and ribald
jokes were freely cracked, exciting general bursts of laughter; while
howls, cat-calls, and all manner of unearthly and indescribable yells
threatened for some time to render the object of the meeting utterly
abortive. At one moment a lad would imitate the bray of a jack-ass,
and immediately the whole hundred and fifty would fall to braying.
Then some ragged urchin would crow like a cock, whereupon the place
would echo again with a hundred and fifty cock-crows. Then, as a
black boy entered the room, one of the young vagabonds would shout
out “swe-ee-op.” This would be received with peals of laughter, and
followed by a general repetition of the same cry. Next, a hundred
and fifty cat-calls of the shrillest possible description would
almost split the ears. These would be succeeded by cries of “Strike
up, you catgut scrapers,” “Go on with your barrow,” “Flare up, my
never-sweats,” and a variety of other street sayings. Indeed, the
uproar which went on before the meeting began will be best understood
if we compare it to the scene presented by a public menagerie at
feeding time. The greatest difficulty, as might be expected, was
experienced in collecting the subjoined statistics of their character
and condition. By a well-contrived and persevering mode of inquiry,
however, the following facts were elicited:--
With respect to their _ages_, the youngest boy present was 6 years old.
He styled himself a “cadger,” and said that his mother, who is a widow,
and suffering from ill-health, sends him into the streets to beg. There
were seven of 10 years of age, three of 12, three of 13, ten of 14, ten
of 15, eleven of 16, twenty of 17, twenty-six of 18, and forty-five of
19.
Nineteen had _fathers and mothers_ still living; thirty-nine had only
one parent, and eighty were orphans in the fullest sense of the word,
having neither father nor mother alive.
Of _professed beggars_ there were fifty, and sixty-six who acknowledged
themselves to be _habitual thieves_. The announcement that the greater
number present were thieves pleased them exceedingly, and was received
with three rounds of applause.
Twelve of the youths assembled had been _in prison_ once (two of these
were but 10 years of age); 5 had been in prison twice; 3, thrice; 4
four times; 7, five times; 8, six times; 5, seven times; 4, eight
times; 2, nine times (1 of them 13 years of age); 5, ten times; 5,
twelve times; 2, thirteen times; 3, fourteen times; 2, sixteen times;
3, seventeen times; 2, eighteen times; 5, twenty times; 6, twenty-four
times; 1, twenty-five times; 1, twenty-six times; and 1, twenty-nine
times. The announcements in reply to the questions as to the number
of times that any of them had been in prison were received with great
applause, which became more and more boisterous as the number of
imprisonments increased. When it was announced that one, though only
19 years of age, had been in prison as many as twenty-nine times,
the clapping of hands, the cat-calls, and shouts of “brayvo!” lasted
for several minutes, and the whole of the boys rose to look at the
distinguished individual. Some chalked on their hats the figures which
designated the sum of the several times that they had been in gaol.
As to the _causes of their vagabondism_, it was found that 22 had run
away from their homes, owing to the ill-treatment of their parents; 18
confessed to having been ruined through their parents allowing them
to run wild in the streets, and to be led astray by bad companions;
and 15 acknowledged that they had been first taught thieving in a
lodging-house.
Concerning the vagrant habits of the youths, the following facts were
elicited: 78 regularly roam through the country every year, 65 sleep
regularly in the casual wards of the unions, and 52 occasionally slept
in tramper’s lodging-houses throughout the country.
Respecting their _education_, according to the popular meaning of
the term, 63 of the 150 were able to read and write, and they were
principally thieves. Fifty of this number said they had read “Jack
Sheppard,” and the lives of Dick Turpin, Claude du Val, and all the
other popular thieves’ novels, as well as the “Newgate Calendar”
and “Lives of the Robbers and Pirates.” Those who could not read
themselves, said they’d had “Jack Sheppard” read to them at the
lodging-houses. Numbers avowed that they had been induced to resort
to an abandoned course of life from reading the lives of notorious
thieves, and novels about highway robbers. When asked what they thought
of “Jack Sheppard,” several bawled out “He’s a regular brick”--a
sentiment which was almost universally concurred in by the deafening
shouts and plaudits which followed. When asked whether they would like
to be Jack Sheppards, they answered, “Yes, if the times was the same
now as they were then.” Thirteen confessed that they had taken to
thieving in order to go to the low theatres; and one lad said he had
lost a good situation on the Birmingham Railway through his love of the
play.
Twenty stated they had _been flogged in prison_,--many of them two,
three, and four different times. A policeman in plain clothes was
present; but their acute eyes were not long before they detected his
real character notwithstanding his disguise. Several demanded that he
should be turned out. The officer was accordingly given to understand
that the meeting was a private one, and requested to withdraw. Having
apologised for intruding, he proceeded to leave the room--and, no
sooner did the boys see the policeman move towards the door, than they
gave vent to several rounds of very hearty applause, accompanied with
hisses, groans, and cries of “throw him over.”
The process of interrogating them in the mass having been concluded,
the next step was to call several of them separately to the platform,
to narrate, in their peculiar style and phraseology, the history of
their own career, together with the causes which had led them to take
up a life of dishonesty. The novelty of their position as speech-makers
seemed peculiarly exciting to the speakers themselves, and provoked
much merriment and interest amongst the lads. Their antics and
buffoonery in commencing their addresses were certainly of the most
ludicrous character. The first speaker, a lad 17 years of age, ascended
the platform, dressed in a torn “wide-a-awake” hat, and a dirty
smock-frock. He began:--Gentlemen [immense applause and laughter], I am
a Brummagem lad [laughter]. My father has been dead three years, and
my mother seven. When my father died I had to go and live along with my
aunt. I fell out of employment, and went round about the town, and fell
into the company of a lot of chaps, and went picking ladies’ pockets.
Then I was in prison once or twice, and I came to London, and have been
in several prisons here. I have been in London three years; but I have
been out of it several times in that time. I can’t get anything honest
to do; and I wish I could get something at sea, or in any foreign land.
I don’t care what or where it is [cheers and yells].
Another lad about 16, clad in a ragged coat, with a dirty face and
matted hair, next came forward and said--My father was a soldier, and
when I growed up to about ten years I joined the regiment as a drummer
in the Grenadier Guards. I went on and got myself into trouble, till at
last I got turned away, and my father left the regiment. I then went
out with some more chaps and went thieving, and have been thieving
about two years now. [Several voices--“Very good;” “that’s beautiful;”
“I hope you do it well.”]
The third boy, who stated that he had been twenty-four times in
prison, said he belonged to Hendon, in Middlesex, and that his father
left his mother seventeen years ago, and he did not know whether he
was dead or alive. He went to Christchurch school for some time, but
afterwards picked up with bad companions, and went a thieving. He went
to school again, but again left it to go a thieving and cadging with
bad companions. He had been doing that for the last five years; and if
he could get out of it he would be very glad to leave it [cheers].
The fourth lad (who was received with loud cheering, evidently
indicating that he was a well-known character) said, he came from the
city of York, and was a farrier. His father died a few years ago, and
then he took to work; but “the play” led him on to be a thief, and
from that time to the present he had done nothing but beg or thieve.
If he could go to Australia he would be very glad; as if he stopped in
England he feared he should do nothing but thieve to the end [laughter,
with cries of “well done,” “very well spoken”].
The next speaker was about 18 years of age, and appeared a very sharp
intelligent lad. After making a very grave but irresistibly comical
prefatory bow, by placing his hand at the back of his head, and so
(as it were) forcing it to give a nod, he proceeded: My father is an
engineer’s labourer, and the first cause of my thieving was that he
kept me without grub, and wallopped me [laughter]. Well, I was at
work at the same time that he was, and I kept pilfering, and at last
they bowled me out [loud cheers]. I got a showing up, and at last
they turned me away; and, not liking to go home to my father, I ran
away. I went to Margate, where I had some friends, with a shilling
in my pocket. I never stopped till I got to Ramsgate, and I had no
lodging except under the trees, and had only the bits of bread I could
pick up. When I got there my grandfather took me in and kept me for a
twelvemonth. My mother’s brother’s wife had a spite against me, and
tried to get me turned away. I did not know what thieving was then; and
I used to pray that her heart might be turned, because I did not know
what would become of me if my grandfather turned me away. But she got
other people to complain of me, and say I was a nuisance to the town;
but I knowed there was no fault in me; but, however, my grandfather
said he could put up with me no longer, and turned me away. So after
that I came back to London, and goes to the union. The first night I
went there I got tore up [cheers and laughter]. Everything was torn
off my back, and the bread was taken away from me, and because I said
a word I got well wallopped [renewed laughter]. They “small-ganged”
me; and afterwards I went seven days to prison because others tore my
clothes. When I went in there--this was the first time--a man said to
me, “What are you here for?” I said, “For tearing up.” The man said
to another, “What are you here for?” and the other made answer, “For
a handkerchief.” The man then said, “Ah, that’s something like;” and
he said to me, “Why are you not a thief--you will only get to prison
for that.” I said, “I will.” Well, after that I went pilfering small
things, worth a penny or twopence at first; but I soon saw better
things were as easy to be got as them, so I took them [laughter]. I
picked up with one that knowed more than me. He fairly kept me for
some time, and I learnt as well as him. I picked him up in a London
workhouse. After that I thought I would try my friends again, and I
went to my uncle at Dover, but he could do nothing for me, so I got
a place at a butcher’s, where I fancied myself fairly blessed, for I
had 2_s._ a week and my board and washing. I kept a twelvemonth there
honest, without thieving. At last my master and I fell out and I left
again, so I was forced to come up to London, and there I found my old
companions in the Smithfield pens--they were not living anywhere. I
used to go to the workhouse and used to tear up and refuse to work,
and used to get sent to “quod,” and I used to curse the day when it
was my turn to go out. The governor of the prison used to say he hoped
he wouldn’t see my face there again; but I used to answer, “I shall be
here again to night, because it’s the only place I’ve got.” That’s all
I’ve got to say.
The next lad, who said he had been fourteen times in prison, was a
taller, cleaner, and more intelligent-looking youth than any that had
preceded him. After making a low affected bow, over the railing, to the
company below, and uttering a preliminary a-hem or two with the most
ludicrous mock gravity, he began by saying:--“I am a native of London.
My father is a poor labouring man, with 15_s._ a week--little enough, I
think, to keep a home for four, and find candlelight [laughter]. I was
at work looking after a boiler at a paper-stainer’s in Old-street-road
at 6_s._ a week, when one night they bowled me out. I got the sack, and
a bag to take it home in [laughter]. I got my wages, and ran away from
home, but in four days, being hungry, and having no money, I went back
again. I got a towelling, but it did not do me much good. My father
did not like to turn me out of doors, so he tied me to the leg of the
bedstead [laughter]. He tied my hands and feet so that I could hardly
move, but I managed somehow to turn my gob (mouth) round and gnawed
it away. I run down stairs and got out at the back door and over a
neighbour’s wall, and never went home for nine months. I never bolted
with anything. I never took anything that was too hot for me. The
captain of a man-of-war about this time took me into his service, where
I remained five weeks till I took a fever, and was obliged to go to the
hospital. When I recovered, the captain was gone to Africa; and not
liking to go home, I stepped away, and have been from home ever since.
I was in Brummagem, and was seven days in the new ‘stir’ (prison), and
nearly broke my neck. When I came out, I fell into bad company, and
went cadging, and have been cadging ever since; but if I could leave
off, and go to the Isle of Dogs, the Isle of Man, or the Isle of Woman
[laughter], or any other foreign place, I would embrace the opportunity
as soon as I could. And if so be that any gentleman would take me in
hand, and send me out, I would be very thankful to him, indeed. And so
good night” [cheers].
A dirty little boy, fourteen years of age, dressed in a big jacket,
next stood forward. He said his father was a man-of-war’s man, and when
he came home from sea once his father, his mother, and all of them got
drunk. The lad then stole 4_d._ from his father’s pocket. After this,
when he was sent for sixpenny rum he used to fetch fourpenny, and for
fourpenny gin threepenny; and for fourpenny beer he used to fetch
threepenny, and keep the difference to himself. His mother used to sell
fruit, and when she left him at the stall he used to eat what he could
not sell, and used to sell some to get marbles and buttons. Once he
stole a loaf from a baker’s shop. The man let him off, but his father
beat him for it. The beating did him no good. After that he used to go
“smugging” [running away with] other people’s things. Then one day his
father caught him, and tied his leg to the bedstead, and left him there
till he was pretty near dead. He ran away afterwards, and has been
thieving ever since.
A lad about twenty was here about to volunteer a statement concerning
the lodging-houses, by which he declared he had been brought to his
ruin, but he was instantly assailed with cries of “come down!” “hold
your tongue!” and these became so general, and were in so menacing a
tone, that he said he was afraid to make any disclosures, because he
believed if he did so he would have perhaps two or three dozen of the
other chaps on to him [great confusion].
MR. MAYHEW: Will it hurt any of you here if he says anything against
the lodging-houses [yes, yes]? How will it do so?
A Voice: They will not allow stolen property to come into them if it is
told.
MR. MAYHEW: But would you not all gladly quit your present course of
life [yes, yes, yes]? Then why not have the lodging-house system, the
principal cause of all your misery, exposed?
A Voice: If they shut up the lodging-houses, where are we to go? If a
poor boy gets to the workhouse he catches a fever, and is starved into
the bargain.
MR. MAYHEW:--Are not you all tired of the lives you now lead?
[Vociferous cries of “yes, yes, we wish to better ourselves!” from
all parts of the room.] However much you dread the exposure of the
lodging-houses, you know, my lads, as well as I do, that it is in them
you meet your companions, and ruin, if not begun there, is at least
completed in such places. If a boy runs away from home he is encouraged
there and kept secreted from his parents. And do not the parties who
keep these places grow rich on your degradation and your peril? [Loud
cries of “yes, yes!”] Then why don’t you all come forward now, and, by
exposing them to the public, who know nothing of the iniquities and
vice practised in such places, put an end to these dens at once? There
is not one of you here--not one, at least, of the elder boys, who has
found out the mistake of his present life, who would not, I verily
believe, become honest, and earn his living by his industry, if he
could. You might have thought a roving life a pleasant thing enough at
first, but you now know that a vagabond’s life is full of suffering,
care, peril, and privation; you are not so happy as you thought you
would be, and are tired and disgusted with your present course. This
is what I hear from you all. Am I not stating the fact? [Renewed cries
of “yes, yes, yes!” and a voice: “The fact of it is, sir, we don’t see
our folly till it is too late.”] Now I and many hundreds and thousands
really wish you well, and would gladly do anything we could to get you
to earn an honest living. All, or nearly all, your misery, I know,
proceeds from the low lodging-houses [“yes, yes, it does, master! it
does”]; and I am determined, with your help, to effect their utter
destruction. [A voice, “I am glad of it, sir--you are quite right; and
I pray God to assist you.”]
The elder boys were then asked what they thought would be the best mode
of effecting their deliverance from their present degraded position.
Some thought emigration the best means, for if they started afresh
in a new colony, they said they would leave behind them their bad
characters, which closed every avenue to employment against them at
home. Others thought there would be difficulties in obtaining work
in the colonies in sufficient time to prevent their being driven to
support themselves by their old practices. Many again thought the
temptations which surrounded them in England rendered their reformation
impossible; whilst many more considered that the same temptations would
assail them abroad which existed at home.
MR. MAYHEW then addressed them on another point. He said he had seen
many notorious thieves in the course of his investigations. Since then
he had received them at all hours into his house--men of the most
desperate and women of the most abandoned characters--but he had never
lost a 6_d._ worth of his property by them. One thief he had entrusted
with a sovereign to get changed, and the lad returned and gave him
back the full amount in silver. He had since gone out to America. Now
he would ask all those present whether, if he were to give them a
sovereign, they would do the same? [Several voices here called out that
they would, and others that they would not. Others, again, said that
they would to him, but to no one else.]
Here one of the most desperate characters present, a boy who had been
twenty-six times in prison, was singled out from the rest, and a
sovereign given to him to get changed, in order to make the experiment
whether he would have the honesty to return the change or abscond with
it in his possession. He was informed, on receiving it, that if he
chose to decamp with it, no proceedings should be taken against him. He
left the room amid the cheers of his companions, and when he had been
absent a few moments all eyes were turned towards the door each time it
opened, anxiously expecting his arrival, to prove his trustworthiness.
Never was such interest displayed by any body of individuals. They
mounted the forms in their eagerness to obtain the first glimpse of
his return. It was clear that their honour was at stake; and several
said they would kill the lad in the morning if he made off with the
money. Many minutes elapsed in almost painful suspense, and some of his
companions began to fear that so large a sum of money had proved too
great a temptation for the boy. At last, however, a tremendous burst
of cheering announced the lad’s return. The delight of his companions
broke forth again and again, in long and loud peals of applause, and
the youth advanced amidst triumphant shouts to the platform, and gave
up the money in full.
The assemblage was then interrogated as to the effect of flogging as a
punishment; and the general feeling appeared to be that it hardened the
criminal instead of checking his depravity, and excited the deadliest
enmity in his bosom at the time towards the person inflicting it. When
asked whether they had seen any public executions, they almost all
cried out that they had seen Manning and his wife hung; others said
that they had seen Rush and Sarah Thomas executed. They stated that
they liked to go a “death-hunting,” after seeing one or two executed.
It hardened them to it, and at last they all got to thieve under the
gallows. They felt rather shocked at the sight of an execution at
first; but, after a few repetitions, it soon wore off.
Before the meeting broke up several other lads expressed a strong
desire to make statements.