THE CHILD-VAGRANT.
There is without doubt in the blood of most children--as an inheritance,
perhaps, from some remote barbarian ancestor--a passion for roving.
There are few of us who cannot recall the delicious pleasure of
wandering at free will in childhood, far from schools, houses, and the
tasks laid upon us, and leading in the fields or woods a semi-savage
existence. In fact, to some of us, now in manhood, there is scarcely a
greater pleasure of the senses than to gratify "the savage in one's
blood," and lead a wild life in the woods. The boys among the poor feel
this passion often almost irresistibly. Nothing will keep them in school
or at home. Having perhaps kind parents, and not a peculiarly
disagreeable home, they will yet rove off night and day, enjoying the
idle, lazzaroni life on the docks, living in the summer almost in the
water, and curling down at night, as the animals do, in any corner they
can find--hungry and ragged, but light-hearted, and enjoying immensely
their vagabond life. Probably as a sensation, not one that the street
lad will ever have in after-life will equal the delicious feeling of
carelessness and independence with which he lies on his back in the
spring sunlight on a pile of dock lumber, and watches the moving life on
the river, and munches his crust of bread. It frequently happens that no
restraint or punishment can check this Indian-like propensity.
A ROVER REFORMED.
We recall one fine little fellow who was honest, and truthful, and
kind-hearted, but who, when the roving passion in the blood came up,
left everything and spent his days and nights on the wharves, and
rambling about the streets. His mother, a widow, knew only too well what
this habit was bringing him to, for, unfortunately, the life of a young
barbarian in New York has little poetry in it The youthful vagrant soon
becomes idle and unfit to work; he is hungry, and cannot win his food
from the waters and the woods, like his savage prototype; therefore, he
must steal. He makes the acquaintance of the petty thieves, pickpockets,
and young sharpers of the city. He learns to lie and swear; to pick
pockets, rifle street-stands, and break open shop-windows or doors; so
that this barbarian habit is the universal stepping-stone to children's
crimes. In this case, the worthy woman locked the boy up in her room,
and sent down word to us that her son would like a place in the country,
if the employer would come up and take him. We dispatched an excellent
gentleman to her from the interior, who desired a "model boy;" but, when
he arrived, he found, to his dismay, the lad kicking through the panels
of the door, and declaring he would die sooner than go. The boy then
disappeared for a few days, when his mother discovered him ragged and
half-starved about the docks, and brought him home and whipped him
severely. The next morning he was off again, and was gone a week, until
the police brought him back in a wretched condition. The mother now
tried the "Christian Brothers," who had a fence ten feet high about
their premises, and kept the lad, it was said, part of the time chained.
But the fence was mere sport to the little vagrant, and he was soon off.
She then tried the "Half-Orphan Asylum," but this succeeded no better.
Then the "Juvenile Asylum" was applied to, and the lad was admitted; but
here he spent but a short probation, and was soon beyond their reach.
The mother, now in desperation, resolved to send him to the Far West,
under the charge of the Children's Aid Society. Knowing his habits, she
led him down by the collar to the office, sat by him there, and
accompanied him to the railroad depot with the party of children. He was
placed on a farm in Northern Michigan, where, fortunately, there was
considerable game in the neighborhood. To the surprise of us all, he did
not at once run away, being perhaps attracted by the shooting he could
indulge in, when not at work.
At length a chance was offered him of being a trapper, and he began his
rovings in good earnest. From the Northern Peninsula of Michigan to the
Rocky Mountains, he wandered over the woods and wilds for years, making
a very good living by his sales of skins, and saving considerable money.
All accounts showed him to be a very honest, decent, industrious lad--a
city vagrant about to be a thief transformed into a country vagrant
making an honest living.
Our books give hundreds of similar stories, where a free country-life
and the amusements and sports of the farmers, when work is slack, have
gratified healthfully the vagrant appetite. The mere riding a horse, or
owning a calf or a lamb, or trapping an animal in winter, seems to have
an astonishing effect in cooling the fire in the blood in the city
rover, and making him contented.
The social habits of the army of little street-vagrants who rove through
our city have something unaccountable and mysterious in them. We have,
as I have described, in various parts of the city little "Stations," as
it were, in their weary journey of life, where we ostensibly try to
refresh them, but where we really hope to break up their service in the
army of vagrancy, and make honest lads of them. These "Lodging-houses"
are contrived, after much experience, so ingeniously that they
inevitably attract in the young vagabonds, and drain the quarter where
they are placed of this class. We give the boys, in point of fact, more
for their money than they can get anywhere else, and the whole house is
made attractive and comfortable for them. But the reasons of their
coming to a given place seem unaccountable.
Thus there will be a "Lodge" in some out-of-the-way quarter, with no
special attractions, which for years will drag along with a
comparatively small number of lodgers, when suddenly, without any change
being made, there will come a rush of street-rovers to it, and scores
will have to be sent away, and the house be crowded for months after.
Perhaps these denizens of boxes and hay-barges have their own fashions,
like their elders, and a "Boys' Hotel" becomes popular, and has a run of
custom like the larger houses of entertainment. The numbers too, at
different seasons, vary singularly. Thus, in the coldest nights of
winter, when few boys could venture to sleep out, and one would suppose
there would be a rush to these warmed and comfortable "Lodges," the
attendance in some houses falls off. And in all, the best months are the
spring and autumn rather than the winter or summer. Sometimes a single
night of the week will show a remarkable increase of lodgers, though for
what reason no one can divine.
The lodgers in the different houses are singularly different. Those in
the parent Lodging-house--the Newsboys'--seem more of the true _gamin_
order: sharp, ready, light-hearted, quick to understand and quick to
act, generous and impulsive, and with an air of being well used "to
steer their own canoe" through whatever rapids and whirlpools. These
lads seem to include more, also, of that chance medley of little
wanderers who drift into the city from the country, and other large
towns--boys floating on the current, no one knows whence or whither.
They are, as a rule, younger than in the other "Lodges," and many of
them are induced to take places on farms, or with mechanics in the
country.
One of the mysterious things about this Boys' Hotel is, what becomes of
the large numbers that enter it? In the course of the twelve months
there passes through its hospitable doors a procession of more than
_eight thousand_ different youthful rovers of the streets--boys without
homes or friends; yet, on any one night, there is not an average of more
than two hundred. Each separate boy accordingly averages but nine days
in his stay. We can trace during the year the course of, perhaps, a
thousand of these young vagrants, for most of whom we provide ourselves.
What becomes of the other seven thousand? Many, no doubt, find
occupation in the city or country; some in the pleasant seasons take
their pleasure and business at the watering-places and other large
towns; some return to relatives or friends; many are arrested and
imprisoned, and the rest of the ragged throng drift away, no one knows
whither.
The up-town Lodging-houses seem often to gather in a more permanent
class of lodgers; they become frequently genuine boarding-houses for
children. The lads seem to be, too, a more destitute and perhaps lower
class than "the down-town boys." Possibly by a process of "Natural
Selection," only the sharpest and brightest lads get through the intense
"struggle for existence" which belongs to the most crowded portions of
the city, while the duller are driven to the up-town wards. We throw out
the hypothesis for some future investigator.
The great amusement of this multitude of street vagabonds is the cheap
theatre. Like most boys, they have a passion for the drama. But to them
the pictures of kings and queens, the processions of courtiers and
soldiers on the stage, and the wealthy gentlemen aiding and rescuing
distressed peasant-girls, are the only glimpses they ever get of the
great world of history and society above them, and they are naturally
entranced by them. Many a lad will pass a night in a box, and spend his
last sixpence, rather than lose this show. Unfortunately, these low
theatres seem the rendezvous for all disreputable characters; and here
the "bummers" make the acquaintance of the higher class whom they so
much admire, of "flashmen," thieves, pickpockets, and rogues.
We have taken the pains at different times to see some of the pieces
represented in these places, and have never witnessed anything improper
or immoral. On the contrary, the popular plays were always of a heroic
and moral cast. "Uncle Tom," when it was played in the Bowery,
undoubtedly had a good moral and political effect, in the years before
the war, on these ragamuffins.
The salvation of New York, as regards this army of young vagabonds, is,
without doubt, its climate. There can be no permanent class of lazzaroni
under our winters. The cold compels work. The snow drives "the
street-rats," as the police call them, from their holes. Then the
homeless boys seek employment and a shelter. And when they are once
brought under the series of moral and physical instrumentalities
contrived for their benefit, they cease soon to be vagrants, and join
the great class of workers and honest producers.
A CORRECTIVE.
One of the best practical methods of correcting vagrancy among city boys
would be the adoption, by every large town, of an "ordinance" similar to
that passed by the Common Council of Boston.
By this Act, every child who pursues any kind of street-trade for an
occupation--such as news-vending, peddling, blackening of boots, and the
like--is obliged to procure a license, which must be renewed every three
months. If he is found at any time without this license, he is liable to
summary arrest as a vagrant. To procure the license, each child must
show a certificate that he has been, or is, attending some school,
whether public, or industrial, or parish, during three hours each day.
The great advantage of a law of this nature, is, that it can be
executed. Any ordinary legislation against youthful vagrants--such as
arresting any child found in the streets during school-hours, or without
occupation--is sure to become ineffectual through the humanity and
good-nature of officials and judges. Moreover, every young rover of the
streets can easily trump up some occupation, which he professes to
follow.
Thus, now, as is well known, most of the begging children in New York
are apparently engaged in selling "black-headed pins," or some other
cheap trifle.
They can almost always pretend some occupation--if it be only sweeping
sidewalks--which enables them to elude the law. Nor can we reasonably
expect a judge to sentence a child for vagrancy, when it claims to be
supporting a destitute parent by earnings in a street-trade, though the
occupation may be a semi-vagrant one, and may lead inevitably to
idleness and crime. Nor does the action of a truant-officer prevent the
necessity of such a law, because this official only acts on the truant
class of children, not on those who attend no school whatever. By an
ordinance like this of Boston, every child can be forced to at least
three hours' schooling each day; and, as any school is permitted, no
sectarian or bigoted feeling is aroused by this injunction.
The police would be more ready to arrest, and the Judges to sentence,
the violators of so simple and rational a law. The wanderers of the
street would then be brought under legal supervision, which would not be
too harsh or severe. Education may not, in all cases, prevent crime; yet
we well know that, on a broad scale, it has a wonderful effect in
checking it.
The steady labor, punctuality, and order of a good school, the high tone
in many of our Free Schools, the self-respect cultivated, the emulation
aroused, the love of industry thus planted, are just the influences to
break up a vagabond, roving, and dependent habit of mind and life. The
School, with the Lodging-house, is the best preventive institution for
vagrancy.
The Massachusetts system of "Truant-schools"--that is, Schools to which
truant officers could send children habitually truant--does not seem so
applicable to New York. The number of "truants" in the city is not very
large; they are in exceedingly remote quarters, and it would be very
difficult to collect them in any single School.
Our "Industrial Schools" seem to take their place very efficiently. The
present truant-officers of the city are active and judicious, and return
many children to the Schools.
COMPULSORY EDUCATION.
The best general law on this subject, both for country and city, would
undoubtedly be, a law for compulsory education, allowing "Half-time
Schools" to children requiring to be employed a part of the day.
There is no doubt that the time has arrived for the introduction of such
laws throughout the country. During the first years of the national
existence, and especially in New England and the States peopled from
that region, there was so strong an impression among the common people,
of the immense importance of a system of free instruction for all, that
no laws or regulations were necessary to enforce it. Our ancestors were
only too eager to secure mental training for themselves, and
opportunities of education for their children. The public property in
lands was, in many States, early set aside for purposes of school and
college education; and the poorest farmers and laboring people often
succeeded in obtaining for their families and descendants the best
intellectual training which the country could then bestow.
But all this, in New England and other portions of the country, has
greatly changed. Owing to foreign immigration and to unequal
distribution of wealth, large numbers of people have grown up without
the rudiments even of common-school education. Thus, according to the
report of 1871, of the National Commissioners of Education, there are in
the New England States 195,963 persons over ten years of age who cannot
write, and, therefore, are classed as "illiterates." In New York State
the number reaches the astounding height of 241,152, of whom 10,639 are
of the colored race. In Pennsylvania the number is 222,356; in Ohio,
173,172, and throughout the Union the population of the illiterates sums
up the fearful amount of 5,660,074 In New York State the number of
illiterate minors between ten and twenty-one years amounts to 42,405. In
this city there are 62,238 persons over ten who cannot write, of whom
53,791 are of foreign birth. Of minors between ten and twenty-one, there
are here 8,017 illiterates.
Now, it must be manifest to the dullest mind, that a republic like ours,
resting on universal suffrage, is in the utmost danger from such a mass
of ignorance at its foundation. That nearly six persons (5.7) in every
one hundred in the Northern States should be uneducated, and thirty out
of the hundred in the Southern, is certainly an alarming fact. From this
dense ignorant multitude of human beings proceed most of the crimes of
the community; these are the tools of unprincipled politicians; these
form "the dangerous classes" of the city. So strongly has this danger
been felt, especially from the ignorant masses of the Southern States,
both black and white, that Congress has organized a National Bureau of
Education, and, for the first time in our history, is taking upon itself
to a limited degree, the care of education in the States. The law making
appropriations of public lands for purposes of education, in proportion
to the illiteracy of each State, will undoubtedly at some period be
passed, and then encouragement will be given by the Federal Government
to universal popular education. As long as five millions of our people
cannot write, there is no wisdom in arguing against interference of the
General Government in so vital a matter.
During the past two years all intelligent Americans have been struck by
the excellent discipline and immense well-directed energy shown by the
Prussian nation--plainly the results of the universal and enforced
education of the people. The leading Power of Europe evidently bases its
strength on the law of Compulsory Education. Very earnest attention has
been given in this country to the subject. Several States are
approaching the adoption of such a law. California is reported to favor
it, as well as Illinois. Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut
have began compulsory education by their legislation on factory
children, compelling parents to educate their children a certain number
of hours each day. Even Great Britain is drawing near it by her late
School acts, and must eventually pass such laws. In our own State,
where, of all the free States, the greatest illiteracy exists, there has
been much backwardness in this matter. But, under the new movements for
reform, our citizens must see where the root of all their troubles lies.
The demagogues of this city would never have won their amazing power but
for those sixty thousand persons who never read or write. It is this
class and their associates who made these politicians what they were.
We need, in the interests of public order, of liberty, of property, for
the sake of our own safety and the endurance of free institutions here,
a strict and careful law, which shall compel every minor to learn to
read and write, under severe penalties in case of disobedience.