50 „ Manchester.
130 „ Edinburgh.
30 „ Dundee.
35 „ Dublin.
17 „ Cardiff.
10 „ Ramsgate.
---
358
A total of 645, besides a large number who through the influence of the
movement have given up a life of sin, and sought a way of escape for
themselves. The committee have heard of many.
I append a list of the metropolitan homes and refuges.
1. British Penitent Female Refuge. Cambridge Heath, Hackney, N.E.
2. Female Temporary Home. 218, Marylebone Road, N.W.
3. Guardian Society. 12, North side of Bethnal Green, N.E.
4. Home for Friendless Young Females of Good Character. 17, New Ormond
Street, W.C.
5. Home for Penitent Females. White Lion Street, Islington, N.
6. Lock Asylum. Westbourne Green, Paddington.
7. London Diocesan Penitentiary. Park House, Highgate, N.
8. London Female Dormitory. 9, Abbey Road, St. John’s Wood.
9. London Female Penitentiary. 166, Pentonville Road, N.
10. London Female Preventive and Reformatory Institution. 200, Euston
Road, N.W., and 18, Cornwall Place, Holloway Road, N.
11. London Society for Protection of Young Females. Asylum, Tottenham,
N.; Office, 28, New Broad Street, E.C.
12. Magdalen Hospital. 115, Blackfriars Road, S.
13. Refuge for the Destitute. Manor House, Dalston, N.E.
14. Society for the Rescue of Young Women and Children. There are five
homes; the office at 11, Poultry, E.C.
15. South London Institution.
16. St. Marylebone Female Protection Society. 157, Marylebone Road, N.W.
17. St. James’ Home. Whetstone, Finchley Common, W.
18. Trinity Home. 9, Portland Road, Portland Place, W.
19. Westminster Female Refuge. 44, Vincent Square, S.W.
From February 1860 to February 1861, by contributions and collections
the Society, it appears from the balance sheet, received 2,924_l._
7_s._ 4_d._
TRAFFIC IN FOREIGN WOMEN.
One of the most disgraceful, horrible and revolting practices (not
even eclipsed by the slave-trade), carried on by Europeans is the
importation of girls into England from foreign countries to swell the
ranks of prostitution. It is only very recently that the attention of
Mr. Tyrrwhit, at the Marlborough Police Court, was drawn to the subject
by Mr. Dalbert, agent to the “Society for the Protection of Women and
Children.”
It is asserted that women are imported from Belgium, and placed
in houses of ill-fame, where they are compelled to support their
keepers in luxury and idleness by the proceeds of their dishonour.
One house in particular was mentioned in Marylebone; but the state
of the law respecting brothels is so peculiar that great difficulty
is experienced in extricating these unfortunate creatures from their
dreadful position. If it were proved beyond the suspicion of a doubt,
that they were detained against their will, the Habeas Corpus Act might
be of service to their friends, but it appears they are so jealously
guarded, that all attempts to get at them have hitherto proved futile,
although there is every reason to believe that energetic measures
will be taken by the above-mentioned Society to mitigate the evil and
relieve the victims.
As this traffic is clandestine, and conducted with the greatest
caution, it is impossible to form any correct idea of its extent. There
are numbers of foreign women about, but it is probable that many of
them have come over here of their own free-will, and not upon false
pretences or compulsion. One meets with French, Spanish, Italian,
Belgian, and other women.
The complaint made before the metropolitan magistrate a short while
since was in favour of Belgian women. But the traffic is not confined
to them alone. It would appear that the unfortunate creatures are
deluded by all sorts of promises and cajolery, and when they arrive
in this country are, in point of fact, imprisoned in certain houses
of ill-fame, whose keepers derive considerable emolument from their
durance. They are made to fetter themselves in some way or other to the
trepanner, and they, in their simple-mindedness, consider their deed
binding, and look upon themselves, until the delusion is dispelled, as
thoroughly in the power of their keepers.
English women are also taken to foreign parts by designing speculators.
The English are known to congregate at Boulogne, at Havre, at Dieppe,
at Ostend, and other places. It is considered lucrative by the keepers
of bawdy-houses at these towns to maintain an efficient supply of
English women for their resident countrymen: and though the supply is
inadequate to the demand, great numbers of girls are decoyed every
year, and placed in the “Maisons de passé,” or “Maisons de joie,”
as they are sometimes called, where they are made to prostitute
themselves. And by the farm of their persons enable their procurers to
derive considerable profit.
An Englishwoman told me how she was very nearly entrapped by a foreign
woman. “I met an emissary of a French bawdy-house,” she said, “one
night in the Haymarket, and, after conversing with her upon various
subjects, she opened the matter she had in hand, and, after a little
manœuvring and bush-beating, she asked me if I would not like to go
over to France. She specified a town, which was Havre. ‘You will get
lots of money’, she added, and further represented ‘that I should have
a very jolly time of it.’ ‘The money you make will be equally divided
between yourself and the woman of the house, and when you have made
as much as you want, you may come back to England and set up a café or
night-house, where your old friends will be only too glad to come and
see you. You will of course get lots of custom, and attain a better
future than you can now possibly hope for. You ought to look upon me
as the greatest friend you have, for I am putting a chance in your way
that does not occur every day, I can tell you. If you value your own
comfort, and think for a moment about your future, you cannot hesitate.
I have an agreement in my pocket, duly drawn up by a solicitor, so you
may rely upon its being all on the square, and if you sign this--’
“‘To-night?’ I asked.
“‘Yes, immediately. If you sign this, I will supply you with some money
to get what you want, and the day after to-morrow you shall sail for
Havre. Madame ---- is a very nice sort of person, and will do all in
her power to make you happy and comfortable, and indeed she will allow
you to do exactly as you please.’”
Fortunately for herself my informant refused to avail herself of
the flattering prospect so alluringly held out to her. The bait was
tempting enough, but the fish was too wary.
Now let us hear the recital of a girl who, at an early age, had been
incarcerated in one of these “Maisons de passé.” She is now in England,
has been in a refuge, and by the authorities of the charity placed in
an occupation which enables her to acquire a livelihood sufficient to
allow her to live as she had, up to that time, been accustomed to. Her
story I subjoin:--
“When I was sixteen years old, my father, who kept a public-house in
Bloomsbury, got into difficulties and became bankrupt. I had no mother,
and my relations, such as they were, insisted upon my keeping myself in
some way or other. This determination on their part thoroughly accorded
with my own way of thinking, and I did not for an instant refuse to do
so. It then became necessary to discover something by which I could
support myself. Service suggested itself to me and my friends, and we
set about finding out a situation that I could fill. They told me I was
pretty, and as I had not been accustomed to do anything laborious, they
thought I would make a very good lady’s maid. I advertised in a morning
paper, and received three answers to my advertisement. The first I went
to did not answer my expectations, and the second was moderately good;
but I resolved to go to the third, and see the nature of it before
I came to any conclusion. Consequently I left the second open, and
went to the third. It was addressed from a house in Bulstrode-street,
near Welbeck-street. I was ushered into the house, and found a foreign
lady waiting to receive me. She said she was going back to France,
and wished for an English girl to accompany her, as she infinitely
preferred English to French women. She offered me a high salary, and
told me my duties would be light; in fact by comparing her statement
of what I should have to do with that of the others I had visited, I
found that it was more to my advantage to live with her than with them.
So after a little consultation with myself, I determined to accept her
offer. No sooner had I told her so than she said in a soft tone of
voice--
“‘Then, my dear, just be good enough to sign this agreement between us.
It is merely a matter of form--nothing more, _ma chère_.”
“I asked her what it was about, and why it was necessary for me to sign
any paper at all?
“She replied, ‘Only for our mutual satisfaction. I wish you to remain
with me for one year, as I shall not return to England until then.
And if you hadn’t some agreement with me, to bind you as it were to
stay with me, why, _mon Dieu!_ you might leave me directly--oh! _c’est
rien_. You may sign without fear or trembling.’
“Hearing this explanation of the transaction, without reading over the
paper which was written on half a sheet of foolscap, (for I did not
wish to insult or offend her by so doing,) I wrote my name.
“She instantly seized the paper, held it to the fire for a moment or
two to dry, and folding it up placed it in her pocket.
“She then requested me to be ready to leave London with her on the
following Thursday, which allowed me two days to make my preparations
and to take leave of my friends, which I did in very good spirits, as
I thought I had a very fair prospect before me. It remained for what
ensued to disabuse me of that idea.
“We left the St. Katherine’s Docks in the steamer for Boulogne, and
instead of going to an hotel, as I expected, we proceeded to a private
house in the Rue N-- C--, near the Rue de l’Ecu. I have farther to tell
you that three other young women accompanied us. One was a housemaid,
one was a nursery governess, and the other a cook. I was introduced to
them as people that I should have to associate with when we arrived
at Madame’s house. In fact they were represented to be part of the
establishment; and they, poor things, fully believed they were,
being as much deluded as myself. The house that Madame brought us
to was roomy and commodious, and, as I afterwards discovered, well,
if not elegantly, furnished. We were shown into very good bedrooms,
much better than I expected would be allotted to servants; and when
I mentioned this to Madame, and thanked her for her kindness and
consideration, she replied with a smile:--
“‘Did I not tell you how well you would be treated? we do these things
better in France than they do in England.’
“I thanked her again as she was going away, but she said, ‘_Tais toi,
Tais toi_,’ and left me quite enchanted with her goodness.”
I need not expatiate on what subsequently ensued. It is easy to imagine
the horrors that the poor girl had to undergo. With some difficulty she
was conquered and had to submit to her fate. She did not know a word of
the language, and was ignorant of the only method she could adopt to
insure redress. But this she happily discovered in a somewhat singular
manner. When her way of living had become intolerable to her, she
determined to throw herself on the generosity of a young Englishman who
was in the habit of frequenting the house she lived in, and who seemed
to possess some sort of affection for her.
She confessed her miserable position to him, and implored him to
protect her or point out a means of safety. He at once replied, “The
best thing you can do is to go to the British Consul and lay your
case before him. He will in all probability send you back to your own
country.” It required little persuasion on her part to induce her
friend to co-operate with her. The main thing to be managed was to
escape from the house. This was next to impossible, as they were so
carefully watched. But they were allowed occasionally, if they did not
show any signs of discontent to go out for a walk in the town. The
ramparts surrounding the “_Haute Ville_” were generally selected by
this girl as her promenade, and when this privilege of walking out was
allowed her, she was strictly enjoined not to neglect any opportunity
that might offer itself. She arranged to meet her young friend there,
and gave him notice of the day upon which she would be able to go out.
If a girl who was so privileged chanced to meet a man known to the
_Bonne_ or attendant as a frequenter of the house, she retired to a
convenient distance or went back altogether. The plot succeeded, the
consul was appealed to and granted the girl a passport to return to
England, also offering to supply her with money to pay her passage
home. This necessity was obviated by the kindness of her young English
friend, who generously gave her several pounds, and advised her to
return at once to her friends.
Arrived in England, she found her friends reluctant to believe the
tale she told them, and found herself thrown on her own resources.
Without a character, and with a mind very much disturbed, she found
it difficult to do anything respectable, and at last had recourse to
prostitution;--so difficult is it to come back to the right path when
we have once strayed from it.
Perhaps it is almost impossible to stop this traffic; but at any
rate the infamous wretches who trade in it may be intimidated by
publicity being given to their acts, and the indignation of the public
being roused in consequence. What can we imagine more dreadful than
kidnapping a confiding unsuspecting girl, in some cases we may say
child, without exaggeration, for a girl of fifteen is not so very far
removed from those who come within the provisions of the Bishop of
Oxford’s Act? I repeat, what can be more horrible than transporting a
girl, as it were, by false representations from her native land to a
country of strangers, and condemning her against her will to a life of
the most revolting slavery and degradation, without her having been
guilty of any offence against an individual or against the laws of the
land?
It is difficult to believe that there can be many persons engaged in
this white slave-trade, but it is undeniably true.
It is not a question for the legislature; for what could Parliament
do? The only way to decrease the iniquity is to widely disseminate the
knowledge of the existence of such infamy, that those whom it most
nearly concerns, may be put upon their guard, and thus be enabled to
avoid falling into the trap so cunningly laid for them.
Much praise is due to those benevolent societies who interest
themselves in these matters, and especially to that which we have
alluded to more than once--“The Society for the Protection of Women and
Children,” over which Lord Raynham presides.
Much good may be done by this means, and much misery prevented. The
mines of Siberia, with all their terrors, would be preferred--even with
the knout in prospective--by these poor girls, were the alternative
proffered them, to the wretched life they are decoyed into leading. For
all their hopes are blasted, all their feelings crushed, their whole
existence blighted, and their life rendered a misery to them instead
of a blessing and a means of rational enjoyment.
The idea of slavery of any kind is repulsive to the English mind;
but when that slavery includes incarceration, and mental as well as
physical subjection to the dominant power by whom that durance is
imposed, it becomes doubly and trebly repugnant. If it were simply
the deprivation of air and exercise, or even the performance of the
most menial offices, it might be borne with some degree of resignation
by the sufferer, however unmerited the punishment. But here we have
a totally different case: no offence is committed by the victim,
but rather by nature, for what is her fault, but being pretty and
a woman? For this caprice of the genius of form who presided over
her birth she is condemned to a life of misery, degradation, and
despair; compelled to receive caresses that are hateful to her, she
is at one moment the toy of senile sensuality, and at others of
impetuous juvenility, both alike loathsome, both alike detestable. If
blandishments disgust her, words of endearment only make her state of
desolation more palpable; while profusions of regard serve to aggravate
the poignancy of her grief, all around her is hollow, all artificial
except her wretchedness. When to this is added ostracism--banishment
from one’s native country--the condition of the unfortunate woman is
indeed pitiable, for there is some slight consolation in hearing one’s
native language spoken by those around us, and more especially to the
class from which these girls are for the most part taken. We must add
“_pour comble d’injustice_,” that there is no future for the girl,
no reprieve, no hope of mercy, every hope is gone from the moment the
prison tawdry is assumed. The condemnation is severe enough, for it is
for life. When her beauty and her charms no longer serve to attract
the libidinous, she sinks into the condition of a servant to others
who have been ensnared to fill her place. Happiness cannot be achieved
by her at any period of her servitude; there must always be a restless
longing for the end, which though comparatively quick in arriving is
always too tardy.
The mind in time in many cases becomes depraved, and the hardness of
heart that follows this depravity often prevents the girl from feeling
as acutely as she did at first. To these religion is a dead letter,
which is a greater and additional calamity. But to be brief, the
victim’s whole life from first to last is a series of disappointments,
combined with a succession of woes that excite a shudder by their
contemplation, and which may almost justify the invocation of Death:--
“Death, Death, oh amiable lovely death!
Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness!
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones;
And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows;
And ring these fingers with thy household worms;
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
And be a carrion monster like thyself;
Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil’st,
And kiss thee as thy wife! Misery’s love,
O, come to me!”
SHAKESPERE, _King John_, Act iii. Scene 4.
THIEVES AND SWINDLERS.
INTRODUCTION.
In tracing the geography of a river it is interesting to go to its
source, possibly a tiny spring in the cleft of a rock in some mountain
glen. You follow its windings, observing each tributary which flows
into its gathering flood until it discharges its waters into the sea.
We proceed in a similar manner to treat of the thieves and swindlers of
the metropolis.
Thousands of our felons are trained from their infancy in the bosom of
crime; a large proportion of them are born in the homes of habitual
thieves and other persons of bad character, and are familiarized with
vice from their earliest years; frequently the first words they lisp
are oaths and curses. Many of them are often carried to the beershop or
gin palace on the breast of worthless drunken mothers, while others,
clothed in rags, run at their heels or hang by the skirts of their
petticoats. In their wretched abodes they soon learn to be deceitful
and artful, and are in many cases very precocious. The greater number
are never sent to school; some run idle about the streets in low
neighbourhoods: others are sent out to beg throughout the city; others
go out with their mothers and sit beside their stalls; while others
sell a handful of matches or small wares in our public thoroughfares.
One day, in going down a dark alley in the Borough, near Horsemonger
Lane Gaol, we saw a little boy--an Irish cockney, who had been tempted
to steal by other boys he was in the habit of associating with. He was
stripped entirely naked, and was looking over a window on the first
floor with a curious grin on his countenance. His mother had kept his
clothes from him that day as a punishment for stealing, and to prevent
him getting out of the house while she went out to her street-stall.
In our brief sketch of the criminals of the metropolis, we have in the
outset directed our attention to the sneaks or common thieves--by far
the larger number of our criminal population--from whose ranks the
expert pickpockets and the ingenious and daring burglars in most cases
emerge. We have treated of the incipient stage of thieving, when the
child of five or six years of age steals an apple, or an orange, or a
handful of nuts from a stall, or an old pair of boots from a shop door,
and then traced the after-stages of more daring crime.
There are thousands of neglected children loitering about the low
neighbourhoods of the metropolis, and prowling about the streets,
begging and stealing for their daily bread. They are to be found in
Westminster, Whitechapel, Shoreditch, St. Giles’s, New Cut, Lambeth,
the Borough, and other localities. Hundreds of them may be seen leaving
their parents’ homes and low lodging-houses every morning sallying
forth in search of food and plunder. They are fluttering in rags and
in the most motley attire. Some are orphans and have no one to care
for them; others have left their homes and live in lodging-houses
in the most improvident manner, never thinking of to-morrow; others
are sent out by their unprincipled parents to beg and steal for a
livelihood; others are the children of poor but honest and industrious
people, who have been led to steal through the bad companionship
of juvenile thieves. Many of them have never been at a day-school
nor attended a Sunday or ragged-school, and have had no moral or
religious instruction. On the contrary, they have been surrounded by
the most baneful and degrading influences, and have been set a bad
example by their parents and others with whom they came in contact,
and are shunned by the honest and industrious classes of society. The
chief agencies which have tended to ameliorate their condition are
the ragged-schools, where they receive sound secular and religious
instruction; the shoeblacks’ brigades, where they are trained in habits
of honest industry; and the juvenile reformatories, which have been
instituted for their moral and social elevation.
Many of them are hungry, and have no food to eat nor money to purchase
it, and readily steal when they find a suitable opportunity. Not having
received the benefit of a sound moral training, they have not the
conscientious scruples possessed by the children of honest parents;
their only care is to avoid being detected in their felonies. When they
successfully steal some article from a stall or shop-door, or rifle a
till by entering the shop, they are congratulated on their expertness
by their companions, and enjoy a larger share of plunder.
The public streets of the metropolis are regarded by these ragged
little felons and the children of honest industrious parents in a
very different aspect. The latter walk the streets with their eyes
sparkling with wonder and delight at the beautiful and grand sights of
the metropolis. They are struck with the splendour of the shops and the
elegance and stateliness of the public buildings, and with the dense
crowds of people of various orders, and trains of vehicles thronging
the streets. These little ragged thieves walk along the streets with
very different emotions. They, too, in their own way, enjoy the sights
and sounds of London. Amid the busy crowds many of them are to be seen
sitting in groups on the pavement or loitering about in good-humour and
merriment; yet ever and anon their keen roguish eyes sparkle as they
look into the windows of the confectioners’, bakers’, and greengrocers’
shops, at the same time keeping a sharp eye on the policeman as he
passes on his beat.
These juvenile thieves find an ample field for plunder at the stalls
and shop-doors in Whitechapel, Shoreditch, Edgeware Road, and similar
localities, where many articles are exposed for sale, which can be
easily disposed of to some of the low fences. In this manner thousands
of our felons are trained to be expert and daring in crime, and are
frequently tried and convicted before the Police Courts.