of the young gentlemen making half a dozen observations without
introducing a blasphemous or obscene word; and either the basis is a
very sound one, or for the sake of keeping the "club" alive the members
purposely made slips. The penalty for "swearing" was a punch on any part
of the body, except a few which the club rules protected. The game was
highly successful. Warming with the sport, and indifferent to punches,
the members vied with each other in audacity; and in a few minutes
Bedlam in its prime could scarcely have produced such a spectacle as was
to be seen on the beds behind me. One rule of the club was that any word
to be found in the Bible might be used with impunity, and if one member
"punched" another for using such a word, the error was to be visited
upon him with a double punching all round. This naturally led to much
argument; for in vindicating the Bible as his authority, a member became
sometimes so much heated as to launch into a flood of "real swearing,"
which brought the fists of the club upon his naked carcass as quick as
hail.
These and other pastimes beguiled the time until, to my delight, the
church chimes audibly tolled twelve. After this the noise gradually
subsided, and it seemed as though everybody was going to sleep at last.
I should have mentioned that during the story-telling and song-singing a
few "casuals" had dropped in, but they were not _habitués_, and cuddled
down with their rugs over their heads without a word to any one.
In a little while all was quiet, save for the flapping of the
canvas curtain in the night breeze, the snoring, and the horrible,
indescribable sound of impatient hands scratching skins that itch. There
was another sound of very frequent occurrence, and that was the clanking
of the tin pannikin against the water-pail. Whether it is in the nature
of workhouse bread or skilley to provoke thirst is more than my limited
experience entitles me to say, but it may be truthfully asserted that
once at least in the course of five minutes might be heard a rustling of
straw, pattering of feet, and then the noise of water dipping, and then
was to be seen at the pail the figure of a man (sometimes stark naked)
gulping down the icy water as he stood upon the icy stones.
And here I may remark that I can furnish no solution to this mystery of
the shirt. I only know that some of my comrades were provided with a
shirt, and that to some the luxury was denied. I may say this, however,
that none of the little boys were allowed one.
Nearly one o'clock. Still quiet and no fresh arrival for an hour or
more. Then suddenly a loud noise of hobnailed boots kicked at a wooden
gate, and soon after a tramping of feet and a rapping at Daddy's door,
which, it will be remembered, was only separated from our bedroom by an
open paved court.
"Hallo!" cried Daddy.
"Here's some more of 'em for you,--ten of 'em!" answered the porter,
whose voice I recognized at once.
"They'll have to find beds, then," Daddy grumbled, as he opened his
door. "I don't believe there are four beds empty. They must sleep
double, or something."
This was terrible news for me. Bad enough, in all conscience, was it to
lie as I was lying; but the prospect of sharing my straw with some dirty
scoundrel of the Kay breed was altogether unendurable. Perhaps, however,
they were not dirty scoundrels, but peaceable and decent men, like those
in the farther corner.
Alas for my hopes! In the space of five minutes in they came at the rent
in the canvas,--great hulking ruffians, some with rugs and nothing else,
and some with shirts and nothing else, and all madly swearing because,
coming in after eleven o'clock, there was no "toke" for them. As soon as
these wrathful men had advanced to the middle of the shed they made the
discovery that there was an insufficient number of beds,--only three,
indeed, for ten competitors.
"Where's the beds? D' ye hear, Daddy? You blessed, truth-telling old
person, where's the beds?"
"You'll find 'em. Some of 'em is lying on two, or got 'em as pillows.
You'll find 'em."
With a sudden rush our new friends plunged among the sleepers, trampling
over them, cursing their eyes and limbs, dragging away their rugs; and
if by chance they found some poor wretch who had been tempted to take
two beds (or bags) instead of one, they coolly hauled him out and took
possession. There was no denying them and no use in remonstrating. They
evidently knew that they were at liberty to do just as they liked, and
they took full advantage of the privilege.
One of them came up to me, and shouting, "I want that, you ----,"
snatched at my "birdseye" nightcap and carried it off. There was a bed
close to mine which contained only one occupant, and into this one of
the new-comers slipped without a word of warning, driving its lawful
owner against the wall to make room. Then he sat up in bed for a moment,
savagely venting his disappointment as to "toke," and declaring that
never before in his life had he felt the need of it so much. This was
my opportunity. Slipping my hand under my bed, I withdrew that
judiciously hoarded piece of bread and respectfully offered it to him.
He snapped at it with thanks.
By the time the churches were chiming two matters had once more adjusted
themselves, and silence reigned, to be disturbed only by drinkers at the
pail, or such as, otherwise prompted, stalked into the open yard. Kay,
for one, visited it. I mention this unhappy young wretch particularly,
because he went out without a single rag to his back. I looked out at
the rent in the canvas, and saw the frosty moon shining on him. When he
returned, and crept down between Punch and another, he muttered to
himself, "Warm again! O my G-d! warm again!"
I hope, Mr. Editor, that you will not think me too prodigal of these
reminiscences, and that your readers will understand that, if I write
rather boldly, it is not done as a matter of taste. To me it seems quite
worth while to relate with tolerable accuracy every particular of an
adventure which you persuaded me ("ah! woful when!") to undertake for
the public good.
Whether there is a rule which closes the casual wards after a certain
hour I do not know; but before one o'clock our number was made up, the
last-comer signalizing his appearance with a grotesque _pas seul_. His
rug over his shoulders, he waltzed into the shed, waving his hands, and
singing in an affected voice, as he sidled along,--
"I like to be a swell, a-roaming down Pall-Mall,
Or anywhere, I don't much care, so I can be a swell,"--
a couplet which had an intensely comical effect. This gentleman had just
come from a pantomime (where he had learnt his song, probably). Too poor
to pay for a lodging, he could only muster means for a seat in the
gallery of "the Vic," where he was well entertained, judging from the
flattering manner in which he spoke of the clown. The columbine was less
fortunate in his opinion. "She's werry dickey!--ain't got what I call
'move' about her." However, the wretched young woman was respited now
from the scourge of his criticism; for the critic and his listeners were
fast asleep; and yet I doubt whether any one of the company slept very
soundly. Every moment some one shifted uneasily; and as the night wore
on the silence was more and more irritated by the sound of coughing.
This was one of the most distressing things in the whole adventure. The
conversation was horrible, the tales that were told more horrible still,
and worse than either (though not by any means the most infamous things
to be heard,--I dare not even hint at them) was that song, with its
bestial chorus shouted from a dozen throats; but at any rate they kept
the blood warm with constant hot flushes of anger; while as for the
coughing, to lie on the flagstones in what was nothing better than an
open shed, and listen to that, hour after hour, chilled one's very heart
with pity. Every variety of cough that ever I heard was to be heard
there: the hollow cough; the short cough; the hysterical cough; the bark
that comes at regular intervals, like the quarter-chime of a clock, as
if to mark off the progress of decay; coughing from vast hollow chests,
coughing from little narrow ones,--now one, now another, now two or
three together, and then a minute's interval of silence in which to
think of it all and wonder who would begin next. One of the young
reprobates above me coughed so grotesquely, like the chopping of wood,
that I named him in my mind the Woodcutter. Now and then I found myself
coughing too, which may have added just a little to the poignant
distress these awfully constant and various sounds occasioned me. They
were good in one way; they made one forget what wretches they were who,
to all appearances, were so rapidly "chopping" their way to a pauper's
graveyard. I did not care about the more matured ruffians so much; but
though the youngest, the boys like Kay, were unquestionably among the
most infamous of my comrades, to hear what cold and hunger and vice had
done for them at fifteen was almost enough to make a man cry; and there
were boys there even younger than these.
At half past two, every one being asleep, or at least lying still, Daddy
came in and counted us,--one, two, three, four, and so on, in a whisper.
Then, finding the pail empty (it was nearly full at half past nine, when
I entered), he considerately went and refilled it, and even took much
trouble in searching for the tin pot which served as a drinking-cup, and
which the last-comer had playfully thrown to the farther end of the
shed. I ought to have mentioned that the pail stood close to my head; so
that I had peculiar opportunities of study as one after another of my
comrades came to the fountain to drink; just as the brutes do in those
books of African travel. The pail refilled, Daddy returned, and was seen
no more till morning.
It still wanted four hours and a half to seven o'clock,--the hour of
rising,--and never before in my life did time appear to creep so slowly.
I could hear the chimes of a parish church and of the Parliament Houses,
as well as those of a wretched, tinkling Dutch clock somewhere on the
premises. The parish church was the first to announce the hour (an act
of kindness I feel bound to acknowledge), Westminster came next, the
lazy Dutchman declining his consent to the time o' day till fully sixty
seconds afterwards. And I declare I thought that difference of sixty
seconds an injury,--if the officers of the house took their time from
the Dutchman. It may seem a trifle, but a minute is something when a man
is lying on a cold flagstone, and the wind of a winter night is blowing
in your hair. Three o'clock, four o'clock struck, and still there was
nothing to beguile the time, but observation, under the one flaring
gaslight, of the little heaps of outcast humanity strewn about the
floor; and after a while, I find, one may even become accustomed to the
sight of one's fellow-creatures lying around you like covered corpses in
a railway shed. For most of the company were now bundled under the rugs
in the ghastly way I have already described,--though here and there a
cropped head appeared, surmounted by a billy-cock like my own or by a
greasy cloth cap. Five o'clock, six o'clock chimed, and then I had
news--most welcome--of the world without, and of the real beginning of
day. Half a dozen factory bells announced that it was time for
workingmen to go to labor; but my companions were not workingmen, and so
snored on. Out through the gap in the canvas the stars were still to be
seen shining on the black sky; but that did not alter the fact that it
was six o'clock in the morning. I snapped my fingers at the Dutchman,
with his sixty seconds slow, for in another hour I fondly hoped to be
relieved from duty. A little while, and doors were heard to open and
shut; yet a little while, and the voice of Daddy was audible in
conversation with another early bird; and then I distinctly caught the
word "bundles." Blessed sound! I longed for my bundle,--for my pleasing
brown coat, for the warm--if unsightly--"jersey," which I adopted as a
judicious substitute for a waistcoat,--for my corduroys and liberty.
"Clang!" went the workhouse clock. "Now, then, wake 'em up!" cried
Daddy. I was already up,--sitting up, that is,--being anxious to witness
the resurrection of the ghastly figures rolled in their rugs. But nobody
but myself rose at the summons. They knew what it meant well enough, and
in sleepy voices cursed the bell, and wished it in several dreadful
places; but they did not move until there came in at the hole in the
canvas two of the pauper inhabitants of the house, bearing bundles.
"Thirty-two," "Twenty-eight!" they bawled, but not _my_ number, which
was thirty-four. Neither thirty-two nor twenty-eight, however, seemed
eager to accept his good fortune in being first called. They were called
upon three several times before they would answer; and then they replied
with a savage, "Chuck it here, can't you!" "Not before you chucks
over your shirt and ticket," the bundle-holder answered; whereon
"twenty-eight" sat up, and, divesting himself of his borrowed shirt,
flung it with his wooden ticket; and his bundle was flung back in
return.
It was some time before bundle No. 34 turned up, so that I had fair
opportunity to observe my neighbors. The decent men slipped into their
rags as soon as they got them, but the blackguards were in no hurry.
Some indulged in a morning pipe to prepare themselves for the fatigue of
dressing, while others, loosening their bundles as they squatted naked,
commenced an investigation for certain little animals which shall be
nameless.
At last my turn came, and, "chucking over" my shirt and ticket, I
quickly attired myself in clothes which, ragged as they were, were
cleaner than they looked. In less than two minutes I was out of the
shed, and in the yard; where a few of the more decent poor fellows were
crowding round a pail of water, and scrambling after something that
might pass for a "wash,"--finding their own soap, as far as I could
observe, and drying their faces on any bit of rag they might happen to
have about them, or upon the canvas curtain of the shed.
By this time it was about half past seven, and the majority of the
casuals were up and dressed. I observed, however, that none of the
younger boys were as yet up, and it presently appeared that there
existed some rule against their dressing in the shed; for Daddy came out
of the bath-room, where the bundles were deposited, and called out, "Now
four boys!" and instantly four poor little wretches, some with their
rugs trailing about their shoulders and some quite bare, came shivering
over the stones and across the bleak yard, and were admitted to the
bath-room to dress. "Now, four more boys," cried Daddy; and so on.
When all were up and dressed, the boys carried the bed-rugs into
Daddy's room, and the pauper inmates made a heap of the "beds," stacking
them against the wall. As before mentioned, the shed served the treble
purpose of bedchamber, work-room, and breakfast-room; it was impossible
to get fairly at the cranks and set them going until the bedding was
stowed away.
Breakfast before work, however; but it was a weary while to some of us
before it made its appearance. For my own part, I had little appetite,
but about me were a dozen poor wretches who obviously had a very great
one. They had come in overnight too late for bread, and perhaps may not
have broken fast since the morning of the previous day. The decent ones
suffered most. The blackguard majority were quite cheerful, smoking,
swearing, and playing their pretty horse play, the prime end of which
was pain or discomfiture for somebody else. One casual there was with
only one leg. When he came in overnight he wore a black hat, which added
a certain look of respectability to a worn suit of black. All together
his clothes had been delivered up to him by Daddy; but now he was seen
hopping disconsolately about the place on his crutch, for the hat was
missing. He was a timid man, with a mild voice; and whenever he asked
some ruffian "whether he had seen such a thing as a black hat," and got
his answer, he invariably said, "Thank you," which was regarded as very
amusing. At last one sidled up to him with a grin, and showing about
three square inches of some fluffy substance, said, "Is this anything
like wot you're lost, guv'ner?" The cripple inspected it. "That's the
rim of it!" he said. "What a shame!" and hobbled off with tears in his
eyes.
Full three quarters of an hour of loitering and shivering, and then came
the taskmaster,--a soldierly looking man over six feet high, with quick,
gray eyes, in which "No trifling" appeared as distinctly as a notice
against trespassing on a wayside board. He came in among us, and the
gray eyes made out our number in a moment. "Out into the yard, all of
you!" he cried; and we went out in a mob. There we shivered for some
twenty minutes longer, and then a baker's man appeared with a great
wooden tray piled up with just such slices of bread as we had received
overnight. The tray was consigned to an able-bodied casual who took his
place with the taskmaster at the shed door, and then in single file we
re-entered the shed, each man and boy receiving a slice as he passed in.
Pitying, as I suppose, my unaccustomed look, Mr. Taskmaster gave me a
slice and a large piece over.
The bread devoured, a clamor for "skilley" began. The rumor had got
abroad that this morning, and on all future mornings, there would be
skilley at breakfast, and "Skilley! skilley!" resounded through the
shed. No one had hinted that it was not forthcoming, but skilley seems
to be thought an extraordinary concession, and after waiting only a few
minutes for it they attacked the taskmaster in the fiercest manner. They
called him thief, sneak, and "crawler." Little boys blackguarded him in
gutter language, and looking him in the face, consigned him to hell
without flinching. He never uttered a word in reply, or showed a sign of
impatience; and whenever he was obliged to speak it was quite without
temper.
There was a loud "hooray!" when the longed-for skilley appeared in two
pails, in one of which floated a small tin saucepan, with a stick
thrust into its handle, by way of a ladle. Yellow pint basins were
provided for our use, and large iron spoons. "Range round the walls!"
the taskmaster shouted. We obeyed with the utmost alacrity; and then
what I should judge to be about three fourths of a pint of gruel was
handed to each of us as we stood. I was glad to get mine, because the
basin that contained it was warm and my hands were numb with cold. I
tasted a spoonful, as in duty bound, and wondered more than ever at the
esteem in which it was held by my _confrères_. It was a weak decoction
of oatmeal and water, bitter, and without even a pinch of salt to flavor
it,--that I could discover. But it was hot; and on that account,
perhaps, was so highly relished that I had no difficulty in persuading
one of the decent men to accept my share.
It was now past eight o'clock, and, as I knew that a certain quantity of
labor had to be performed by each man before he was allowed to go his
way, I was anxious to begin. The labor was to be "crank" labor. The
"cranks" are a series of iron bars extending across the width of the
shed, penetrating through the wall, and working a flour-mill on the
other side. Turning the "crank" is like turning a windlass. The task is
not a severe one. Four measures of corn (bushels they were called, but
that is doubtful) have to be ground every morning by the night's batch
of casuals. Close up by the ceiling hangs a bell connected with the
machinery; and as each measure is ground the bell rings, so that the
grinders may know how they are going on. But the grinders are as lazy as
obscene. We were no sooner set to work than the taskmaster left us to
our own sweet will, with nothing to restrain its exercise but an
occasional visit from the miller, a weakly expostulating man. Once or
twice he came in and said mildly, "Now then, my men, why don't you stick
to it?" and so went out again.
The result of this laxity of overseeing would have disgusted me at any
time, and was intensely disgusting then. At least one half the gang kept
their hands from the crank whenever the miller was absent, and betook
themselves to their private amusements and pursuits. Some sprawled upon
the beds and smoked; some engaged themselves and their friends in
tailoring; and one turned hair-cutter for the benefit of a gentleman,
who, unlike Kay, had not just come out of prison. There were three
tailors; two of them on the beds mending their coats, and the other
operating on a recumbent friend in the rearward part of his clothing.
Where the needles came from I do not know; but for thread they used a
strand of the oakum (evidently easy to deal with) which the boys were
picking in the corners. Other loungers strolled about with their hands
in their pockets, discussing the topics of the day, and playing
practical jokes on the industrious few; a favorite joke being to take a
bit of rag, anoint it with grease from the crank axles, and clap it
unexpectedly over somebody's eye.
The consequence of all this was that the cranks went round at a very
slow rate, and now and then stopped altogether. Then the miller came in;
the loungers rose from their couches, the tailors ceased stitching, the
smokers dropped their pipes, and every fellow was at his post. The
cranks spun round furiously again, the miller's expostulation being
drowned amid a shout of, "Slap bang, here we are again!" or this
extemporized chorus:--
"We'll hang up the miller on a sour-apple tree,
We'll hang up the miller on a sour-apple tree,
We'll hang up the miller on a sour-apple tree,
And then go grinding on.
Glory, glory, Hallelujah," etc.
By such ditties the ruffians enlivened their short spell of work. Short
indeed! The miller departed, and within a minute afterward beds
were reoccupied, pipes lit, and tailoring resumed. So the game
continued,--the honest fellows sweating at the cranks, and anxious to
get the work done and go out to look for more profitable labor, and the
paupers by profession taking matters quite easy. I am convinced that had
the work been properly superintended the four measures of corn might
have been ground in the space of an hour and a half. As it was, when the
little bell had tinkled for the fourth time, and the yard-gate was
opened, and we were free to depart, the clock had struck eleven.
I had seen the show; gladly I escaped into the open streets. The sun
shone brightly on my ragged, disreputable figure, and showed its squalor
with startling distinctness; but within all was rejoicing. A few yards,
and then I was blessed with the sight of that same vehicle, waiting for
me in the spot where I had parted from it fourteen weary hours before.
Did you observe, Mr. Editor, with what alacrity I jumped in? I have a
vivid recollection of you, sir, sitting there with an easy patience,
lounging through your _Times_, and oh! so detestably clean to look at!
But though I resented your collar, I was grateful for the sight of a
familiar face, and for that draught of sherry which you considerately
brought for me, a welcome refreshment after so many weary, waking hours
of fasting.