BLACK POLL--NIGGERS--RESCUED--TOM AND BESS--COSTERMONGER'S
WEDDING--A BAPTISM--PLEDGE TAKEN--THE PRISON GATE--THE BIBLE ON THE
HOUSETOP--THE CONVICT'S WIDOW AND SON.
THE BOOK IN THE COURT:
ITS POWER.
"The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul." PS. xix. 7.
"Pioneers are required in my parish," said the Rector to the Missionary,
at the time of his appointment. "In these densely populated parts of
London the people have outgrown the influence of the Church. I, for
instance, have upwards of 16,000 poor, and very few of the better
classes. Not twenty of these poor attend church, and the dissenters draw
very few. The sad truth is, that through neglect of religious duties the
people are fast losing the knowledge of God; and their close contact
with the depraved and criminal, is demoralizing them with the leaven of
wickedness. Several of my curates have attempted to grapple with the
evil, but its magnitude has overpowered us. In addition to
over-crowding, the migratory habits of the people increase the
difficulty. I am assured that in several of the streets the inhabitants
are changed once or twice a year, and in the courts there are often
monthly changes in the rooms. As soon therefore as good is done some of
the people leave, and fresh comers require the work to be done over
again. This difficulty can only be met by an order of men with special
qualifications for the work, and sufficiently numerous to cover all the
bad neighbourhoods; so that the people wherever they move to may be
brought under Christian influences. Your society has an aggressive
element of simple Christianity, which is calculated to accomplish this,
and to keep your agents down to their work, and I therefore give you a
hearty welcome, and the assurance of my sympathy in your labours."
The Pioneer soon found that the Rector's statements as regards the
moving habits of the people were correct. After short intervals between
visits he frequently found persons in whom he had become interested
gone, and not a trace of them remaining, their places being occupied by
others. This was the case one afternoon in a house round the
corner,--one of the houses included in the block, and which we for
weighty reasons have regarded as part of the Court. The visitor was
walking upstairs, when he met a new arrival of so strange a type that he
was arrested as by an apparition. It was evidently a little girl of
meagre form and aged expression of countenance, but here the likeness to
our species grew doubtful. Her ethnology was not clearly developed as
she stood with bare shoulders of raven blackness, her lank light hair
being tied up in a bunch with pieces of rag, while the face and hands
were of a yellowish, dirty hue. The object was startled at meeting the
stranger, and was about to retreat, when he stopped her by asking a
question. She answered in a sharp, precocious manner, and the following
dialogue took place.
"My good child, who are you?"
"Black Poll: that me. And I goes to the gaff, and I does the changes,
and jumps 'Jim Crow;' and when I ain't black I sings 'Charming Judy
O'Calligan.' That me!"
"Do your father and mother live here?"
"What a stunner! cos I ain't got no mother: she died of cholera. Dusty,
what does the bones, is my uncle. He took me out of the workus, and I
earns him lots,--ten shills a week."
"How many of you are there?"
"Oh, a lot! We ain't together. Billy Mutton is our guv'nor; and Dusty
has took that ere sky-parlour, and they all comes here to be blacked
up."
The Missionary approached the door indicated, and of necessity gave a
loud knock, as men were conversing inside. To the inquiry, "What are you
thumping there for?" he opened the door and stepped in. The man who
confronted him was of short stature, and of the most dismal of black
complexions. His attire was of light tweed, with broad green stripes.
Upon his knee rested a fiddle, and its stick was in his right hand ready
for practice. The table was placed near the window, and in addition to
its other uses it evidently served for purposes of the toilet. Two cheap
looking-glasses were upon it, and two tallow candles, placed in bottles,
were burning, though it was full daylight. The men were evidently
burning pieces of cork, adding tallow and a black powder, and then
rubbing the precious composition over their hands and faces. Two of the
men had completed the beautifying process, and one of them was tying on
an immense white handkerchief, while the other with an adhesive
composition was fixing a nasal organ of extraordinary shape and
proportion. All this was seen while the stranger was making his office
known, though but few words were necessary, as the tracts in his hand
indicated his business. It was evident that the man with the fiddle
understood him, as he without delay commenced playing "Drops of
Brandy," and continued a medley of comic tunes, ogling his eyes and
gesticulating in a humorous manner. He received occasional assistance
from his companions, who struck up choruses or attitudinized with
mirthful effect. Judging from his hearty laugh the stranger fully
appreciated their efforts, and instead of leaving, as they no doubt
expected, took a seat. Before the last scrape of the fiddle had died
away he remarked coolly, "That's more than I could do, because I have
not your ability. Why, were I to attempt a tune upon that fiddle, I
should make such a discord as to startle and perhaps drive you all out
of the room. The day is however coming when I shall hope to be a
musician."
To an expression of inquiry the speaker produced his pocket Bible, and
observed: "You may not know it, but very much in this Book was written
for and has been set to music, and the song I mean to sing is here, and
something about the instrument I hope to play. Now there are instruments
mentioned here which you could never play, and some which you have not
even heard of, such as the sackbut and dulcimer; but you all know the
harp?"
"I can play it a bit," exclaimed a man at the glass.
"That's the instrument," continued the stranger; "and all Christians
will play it when they get to heaven, for it is written here, 'And I
heard the voice of harpers harping with their harps: and they sang as it
were a new song,' and the singers were '_redeemed_ from the earth.'" The
meaning of the beautiful word "redemption" was then explained to them,
and their attention directed to the Redeemer.
As the child entered to have her toilet completed the speaker said, "I
will tell you more about that another time. I really came in to ask you
about this child. She looks ill and overdone with work. I suppose that
she stays until very late at the gaff?" The man with the bones, who had
mounted a naval cocked-hat, replied, "I took her out of the workus,
guv'nor, to make a woman on her; but bless yer, her woice has gone, and
she can't keep up with her clump shoes for twenty minutes; and as we are
a-going werry soon to the seaside, we means to leave her with Mother
Dell, down the Court."
The men were startled as the Missionary inquired sternly, "Do you men
believe that there is a God in heaven?"
Upon several answering "Yes!" he continued: "He is the great Father of
us all, and it is not His will that even this little one should perish.
You know that that woman is vile and drunken, and has juvenile thieves
and depraved people in her house, and yet you would expose this poor
child to a life of crime. This shall not be, as I will take her, in the
name of the Redeemer, and place her in a home."
"Glad to get rid on her," was the heartless reply. But as the Missionary
left, a dissipated-looking man, who had partly completed the blacking
process, sprung from his glass, and following him to the stairs, said
with emotion, "Thank you sir. I am a wicked backslider; but do take care
of poor little Polly." This request was accompanied with a grasp of the
hand which left a mark so black that hard washing was required to erase
the stain; that however did not matter, as it was the grasp of
gratitude.
Next morning a lady and the Missionary entered the niggers' room. The
child, whose complexion had by scrubbing been reduced from black to a
whitey-brown, looked worn and ill; but her eyes brightened as the lady
took hold of her little hand, and said, "If you are good in the new
home, I will always be kind to you." The act of condescension, and the
sweet tone of that educated voice, had its influence with the niggers,
for they murmured their thanks, and gave the child an affectionate
farewell; Dusty's voice being the last heard from the top of the stairs,
exhorting her to "be a good un, and a credit to yer uncle."
That afternoon another kindness was done, though only in the way of good
advice, for a daughter of the Court. Her parents were old inhabitants,
they had lived there for many years, and sustained the respectability of
the costermonger's calling.
"Should like to have a say with you, mister, if you ain't a-going," said
the head of the family to the Missionary, as he was leaving the place;
and when with the good wife they were seated in the little parlour,
surrounded with partly decayed vegetables, he continued as follows: "You
know my Bess: as good a girl as ever was, she is, and a fortune to any
coster what gets her. Why she took to the trade quite natural like. When
only as high as them baskets we sent her out with cat's meat, and she
did wonderful. Such a girl to cut up a piece of horseflesh never was;
and then you should have seen how she skewered it! Why she made lots of
it, and all of them thought they had thumping hap'orths; howsomever the
cats all got their bones through their furs, and then they diskivered
what a girl our Bess was."
After a pause for consideration he proceeded. "May be you doesn't know
Tom, who sold lots of cowcumbers last summer and put a sov in the bank,
as he doesn't put his hand to his mouth unnecessary, as he's teetotal.
His father and I has known each other always, cos we was both born in
Short's Court, Whitechapel, which was a curious circumstance, and we
always has a pint when we meets. Now his Tom has a new silk round his
neck, and looks handsome, as he always is. So he gets near my barrow
when Bess is there, and helps her knock off trade quick, and he pushes
home hisself. Well on Sunday he comes the swell, and wanted to walk Bess
out, and says he to me, 'My father's a coming to have a pint with you
over this job, as you was both born in that ere Court; and I wouldn't
let your Bess push that ere barrow, cos I've three sovs, and I'd buy her
a pretty donkey. That's me. And I wants Bess to be my lawful wedded
wife.'" Here he looked at the mother, who was in tears, and inquired,
"What would you do, master, if you was us?"
The visitor felt the importance of his position, and at once rose to the
dignity of the friend of the family: for what can be a greater proof of
friendship than to be consulted about matrimonial alliances, their
settlements and prospects?
As arranged, the parties concerned met the following Sunday afternoon
for consultation, and to receive the advice of their friend. He however
found upon his arrival that other considerations than his advice had
settled the business. The elders of Short's Court had agreed to cement a
life-long friendship by becoming relations. The mothers were in close
consultation about the new home to be established in the Place; and as
for the young people, they were in an ecstatic state of mutual
admiration. Her affection to her parents and high costermongering
qualities had been enlarged upon to Tom's delight, and his sobriety and
promise of the donkey had filled her cup of happiness to the brim. There
was only one difficulty, and Tom considered it a real one, for he said
gravely, "How is the banns to be got up? for it looks so for a coster to
go into a church to speak to the parson."
"The clergyman is coming down with me during the week," said the
Missionary, "as he wishes to know you all: and I will bring him in here;
and if you like to invite me I will attend the wedding." A hearty
welcome, words of Christian counsel, and much shaking of hands followed,
and then the affianced and their friends were left as happy as princes
and nobles are supposed to be on such occasions.
For three Sundays the banns were read and the free seats occupied with
awkward worshippers, as a wedding was a strange event in the Court, and
not a few of its inhabitants went to hear "Bess asked;" and then the
third Monday, like all appointed days, arrived quickly, and brought
excitement and joy into the Place. A party of East-end barrow-men
arrived early, and for that day fraternized with the costers of the
West, and young urchins were quarrelling over sundry old tin kettles and
saucepans, which they had provided for the rough music of the evening.
The doors and windows were thronged, and a crowd was waiting at the end
of the Place to accompany the bride to church. At length a shout was
raised, and the bride stepped forth, leaning upon the arm of the
bridegroom. Her light cotton dress, pink shawl, and white cotton gloves,
were admired by all; while the blue bonnet, with large red rose and
white strings, was the envy as well as the admiration of the female
portion of the crowd. The bridegroom was sensibly dressed in a new
business suit, his happy face being surmounted with a beaver which the
trade pronounced to be "nobby." The relations followed in a group
behind, a mob bringing up the rear.
Those who entered the church were reverential during the solemnity, the
officiating minister was most kind to the bridal party, the happy pair
made their marks in the register, the clerk filled in particulars, and
the party left the church; the Missionary joined the group, and all
marched back to the Court as merry as wedding bells. The widow, like
another Martha, had been busy about many things, as the saveloys,
shrimps, cake, and coffee were all ready, and she received the bride
with a kiss of motherly affection. The simple breakfast was soon over,
and their friend then opened his Bible and read about the marriage in
Cana of Galilee, spoke kindly to the young people about dedication to
God being the secret of a happy married life, and he then commended them
in prayer to the blessing of the Almighty.
Thus ended the wedding; but its influence was felt among the people, and
from that time a higher moral tone was developed. Family secrets indeed
were discovered, and the kind Rector often remitted fees, as a proof of
his interest in the people, that none should wilfully live in
transgression. On one morning alone the lay agent gave away three wives,
and this led to the baptism of an aged woman and six children. The woman
rented one of the houses, and went to the marriage of her lodger; she
had attended the little mission meeting, and had become anxious about
her salvation; without telling the cause, she had suffered deep
spiritual distress. Upon leaving the church she expressed desire to
speak to the clergyman, and upon being taken into the vestry told him
that "she had not been baptized, as her parents lived in Holborn Rents,
and did not care about religion; that she passed as a widow, and had
grown-up children, but had not been married, which now made her
miserable." She was exhorted to repent truly, and promised that upon
expressing repentance towards God, and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ,
she should be baptized.
About a month after, a scene of solemn interest took place at the font.
The Rector, who was himself nearly seventy, placed the water of baptism
upon the brow of the woman of seventy-five years, the young Missionary
pronouncing her name. That evening a prayer-meeting was held in the
Court, to seek a blessing upon the newly baptized, and the attendance
was very large; unlikely persons were there, including two of the
translators, the woman of the dogs, and a rough. The passage itself was
crowded, and to those who engaged in prayer there were indications of
spiritual blessing,--of an aroused state of feeling, as though the voice
had said, "Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these
slain, that they may live." The hymn, "There is a fountain filled with
blood," was sung, and the fifth chapter of the 2nd Corinthians read. The
Evangelist then spoke simply and clearly of judgment and of mercy, and
besought his hearers to be reconciled to God.
After the meeting several remained behind to be prayed with. One of
these was a fishwoman of hard features and vile tongue. She was quite
forty years of age, and had removed into the Place from a neighbouring
street which had no thoroughfare, and was called by the people "Little
Hell." Bad as the inhabitants in the Court were, they conceived a
dislike to this woman, which made her life uncomfortable. She was indeed
hateful to many. When addressed kindly at her door, and told of
"goodness and mercy," she was subdued at once; and communicated the
secret of her debased condition. She said, "I was a pretty little
village girl, and when I comed up to London I got hawful wicked, and now
I am obleged to be a fish-fag: and you make me think of the parson lady
as made us kneel along the church and say them prayers." It was plain
that the good impressions made in the village church so many years
before were being revived, and she was invited to the meeting, and that
with blessed result.
Proof was also given that the blessing was not transient but real, and
the minister of the neighbouring Baptist chapel became deeply interested
in the Place. When the Missionary, at his request, called upon him, he
said, "I am glad to know and to encourage you in the Lord's work; and
then I want to speak to you about an old man. You may have heard that
twice a week I have temperance meetings under my chapel. For some time
past this old man has been constant in his attendance, and I am told
that he has for years been a pest in the neighbourhood, and is called
Drunken Sammy. When invited he signed the pledge, and since then some of
my people have got him to attend the services. One Sunday I sent for him
into the vestry, and he spoke of you and a widow as his friends, and of
his promise to keep sober. He is evidently under deep religious
convictions, and as he is very shy I have told the pew opener to keep a
seat for him near the door. Of this I am convinced, that he will not
break the pledge, as he speaks with anger of the cursed drink. Besides
him, two women out of the same place are usually at chapel, and say that
'the man who reads the Bible has made them feel that they are not
Christians, and that they want to be happy;' so we are getting them here
to a week-night service."
This was pleasant but not strange news, because the Missionary knew that
the acting of conscience, enlightened by the Word of God and the
emotions of the new life, were felt by many; and that as the result,
they were pressing into the various churches and chapels. The work
indeed became overpowering; and it was impossible for him to speak with
all who now desired his visits, as many in their distress kept him a
long time. Strength equal to the day was however given; and almost
nightly meetings in the widow's room made up for lost visits.
Among those who received marked benefit was the sewerman, who occupied a
back "parlour" for his family and the yard for rats which he caught in
the "shores" (sewers) and brought home in a bag attached to the inside
of his coat. The smell of rats was always strong upon him, and as he had
a blinking peering look he was far from popular with his neighbours.
When, however, in his earnestness to hear, he pressed forward into the
meeting room, several smiled pleasure at seeing him, and he was motioned
to a seat. After this he was constant in his attendance, and a gradual
change of appearance was noticed. That he washed himself in right good
earnest was evident, and the lighting up of his countenance, with effort
to join in the singing, proved that his soul also was stirred by the
glad and to him new tidings of the Saviour's mercy. He avoided
conversation upon his spiritual state, as he knew not how to express his
feelings, and nothing could induce him to attend with respectable people
at public worship (he may have considered himself offensive), but he got
to love the little meeting, and it became evident that he had attained
to peace in believing.
To the Missionary and his helpers this was a time for rejoicing; but
they had also their discouragements and anxieties. A folded letter, for
instance, of strange shape, and bearing the impression, "Dartmoor
Convict Establishment," was delivered at one of the meetings; and upon
opening it the following printed instructions met the eye: "In writing
to the convict, direct to No. 2484 (_a._ 1, 2)." This was evidently the
number of the young thief whose companion had asked the Missionary to
reform him upon his first visit to the Court, on the ground of his being
"unlucky." That effort had been made in earnest; for the mother and the
Missionary upon the next discharge morning took their stand at the
iron-barred gate of Coldbath Field's prison, and waited until the heavy
lock was opened and the ponderous bolt withdrawn. Then the jail-birds
issued out helter-skelter, looking well, and rejoicing in their liberty
as if bent on pleasure. Some were received by their "pals," unmistakable
members of the criminal class, and were conducted in a sort of triumph
to their former dens, with the prospect of a little wild pleasure,
another crime, and then a longer term of imprisonment. Our bird, a
sharp-looking, well grown youth of seventeen years, was seized by his
mother, and hastily informed "that this ere gent had come to reform
him." A keen glance at the reformer and a movement of the eyelid,
understood by such people as "the knowing wink," expressed his
reluctance to undergo the process. He then, in a surly way, said to his
mother, "I wants some bacca and some beer: that's what I wants; and I'll
have it!" As he glanced at a group of persons who had hurried from the
prison-gate to the public-house, the mother evidently felt that the
required refreshment was the only means of keeping her son. She
therefore whispered to her friend, "He'll bolt, yer honour; so I'll
treat him, and then he will be a lamb, the dear will!" And then they
also passed over to the public-house, leaving the reformer outside, and
in a perplexity as to what he ought to do. The long walk with that
strange-looking woman had been almost a punishment, for everybody turned
round to look at her. She noticed the annoyance, and volunteered this
explanation: "You see, yer honour, I must wear this ere large cap, as I
should get rheumatics in my poor head; and it's now seventeen years
since I ever wore a bonnet or shawl, cos of my oath. My husband was a
good chap to me, and had only once got into trouble. Well, he went out
with a fool what peached, and they lifted a lot of bonnets and a box of
the beautifulest shawls as ever was; and he was collared in the place
where they was, and he got fourteen years over the sea. I then goes down
on my knees, and swears that I would never wear bonnet or shawl till he
come back. He never saw our Eddy, as he was born the week after he had
gone, and he died very soon at Van Diemen's; and I tried to bring up
Eddy respectable like, but he's like his poor father. Now if people
tells you that I receives, tell them that they lies; cos I lives honest,
and does pawning for women what has got modesty, and doesn't like to be
seen going to their Uncle's; and then I gets more on anything, and
picks up what I can: but I'm an honest woman!"
This "honest woman" and her son only remained a few minutes in the
public-house; and as they came toward him, the heart of the Missionary
yearned for their salvation. That fine youthful countenance had already
the lines of viciousness upon it; and he was not improved by the short
cut hair and the long pipe he was smoking. Poor fellow, he was but one
of thousands of the youth of this great city who are as much brought up
to live lives of crime as heathen children who are taught to pray to
gods of wood and stone. Now it surely must be true that Christian
sympathy has power to penetrate the souls of the depraved: for as the
three pursued their homeward journey there was between them confidence
and good fellowship; and though the would-be reformer was disappointed,
he felt that an influence had been gained over the depraved youth.
The offer of a refuge was refused, but the young thief promised to
attend a class at the Ragged School which the Missionary was forming,
and in which he himself intended to teach. He did attend, with eight
other unruly natives of the Court, and received instruction so readily,
and made such progress, that hope was entertained of his reformation. He
obtained work at the side of the Canal, to unload boats, and had kept to
it for several weeks, when a circumstance occurred which crushed his
high spirit. The members of a gang of "Sneaks and Mudlarks," with which
he had been associated, were annoyed at his forsaking their company.
Several of these one day crossed over the bridge and saw him at work.
They called to the other workmen, and told them "that that fellow was a
known thief, and had had four months on the mill." That evening the
foreman made inquiries of the police, and in the morning when the poor
youth went to work he was spurned from the gate. The mother incited him
to take vengeance, and he severely beat two of the youths who, as he
said, had ruined him.
When the friend and teacher heard of his trouble he called to see him,
and the youth opened the door; but instead of speaking he ran upstairs.
He was followed: but he vanished at the upper landing. As he absented
himself from the class, other efforts to reach him were made, but he
always disappeared at the top of the stairs. One afternoon the teacher
saw his pupil enter the house, and followed him in. He sprang forward,
his friend after him, and as he disappeared the teacher thought that he
heard the trap-door of the roof close down. He at once placed his right
foot upon the old handrail, and pushing the trap-door open sprang out
upon the roof of the house; and there, before the chimney-stack, beside
his pigeon-house, sat the vanished one. He looked unhappy, but joined in
a hearty laugh as the Missionary took his seat between the next pair of
chimney pots. The novelty of their position was soon forgotten as the
poor lad spoke of his persecutions and troubles. The pocket Bible was
produced, and the narrative was read of Peter praying upon the
house-top, and his seeing the vision of a great sheet, knit at the four
corners, let down from heaven, containing all manner of four-footed
beasts of the earth. From the words, "God has showed me that I should
not call any man common or unclean," the Gospel was made plain to him,
and the ease with which grace enables us to resist temptation and to
bear troubles. Tears started into the eyes of the poor youth, as he
said, almost in a whisper, "I ortent to have done it, sir; but I thinks
that I am done for now. I was a fool to bolt from you." And then he
glanced along the roof so anxiously, that a detective would have
suspected a thief's trail to another trap-door. An angry voice called a
"lazy varmint" to come to tea, and then the trap opened and the
Missionary made his descent. He was received by the strange mother with
a scream of surprise, and the announcement "that it was dreadful to see
him a-coming down there."
[Illustration: "He sprang out upon the roof of the house, and there,
before the chimney stack, beside his pigeon house, sat the vanished
one."]
That call to tea was the last which the convict's widow gave to her son.
In the midst of it stealthy steps were heard upon the stairs, but the
youth made no effort to escape. Two policemen in plain clothes entered
the room, and one of them, seizing him by the arm, said, "We want you
upon a charge of burglary, with violence to the person, committed last
night at Hampstead." The prisoner burst into tears, and his mother,
throwing her arms around him, gave a deep cry of anguish. There was but
short delay, for he was hurried down stairs, and on to the station. Next
morning he appeared in the dock at the police court, and a clear case
was made out against him. His companions were taken upon the spot, and
though he escaped, his face had been seen by the police and two other
persons. At his trial he pleaded guilty, and his companions, who were
well-known thieves, were sentenced to ten years' transportation, and
himself to seven. His teacher visited him at the House of Detention, and
then in the cell at Newgate. He appeared to be truly penitent, and
promised to send him his first letter; and this accounts for the epistle
from the convict establishment. When the Missionary read it to the
wretched mother, she acknowledged that her sins had separated her from
her God, her husband, and her son; and then, for the first time, she
knelt down, and sobbed again while Divine mercy was implored on her
behalf. There is some hope in her case and for her son also, as the
Chaplain wrote a private note to the Missionary, asking for particulars
concerning the convict, and telling him that the prisoner showed
contrition, and spoke with feeling about a conversation upon the
house-top. We must therefore leave convict 2484 (_a._ 1, 2), to endure
the penalty of his crime, and show what kindness we can to his mother.
The Book in the Court:
ITS AUTHORITY.
"'I am going there now!'--
There was light on his brow:
Then up to the skies
He lifted his eyes,
With a bright sweet smile
On his face the while.
One struggling breath,
And the hand of death
Had broken the chain
Of his grief and pain;
And the soul had fled
From the silent dead,
And free as the lark,
And above the dark,
And above the cloud
And the toiling crowd,
Had entered the rest
Of the good and blest."
_Mrs. Sewell._