stood at the corner of Church Street and Lawrence Street, occupied by
the most infamous characters of the district. On entering the house
from Lawrence Lane, and proceeding upstairs, you would find on each
floor several rooms connected by a kind of gallery, each room rented by
prostitutes. These apartments were open to those girls who had fleeced
any poor drunken man who had been induced to accompany them to this
den of infamy. When they had plundered the poor dupe, he was ejected
without ceremony by the others who resided in the room; often without a
coat or hat, sometimes without his trousers, and occasionally left on
the staircase naked as he was born. In this house the grossest scenes
of profligacy were transacted. In pulling it down a hole was discovered
in the wall opening into a timber-yard which fronted High Street--a
convenient retreat for any one pursued.
“Opposite to this was the “Rose and Crown” public-house, resorted to
by all classes of the light-fingered gentry, from the mobsman and
his “Amelia” to the lowest of the street thieves and his “Poll.” In
the tap-room might be seen Black Charlie the fiddler, with ten or a
dozen lads and lasses enjoying the dance, and singing and smoking over
potations of gin-and-water, more or less plentiful according to the
proceeds of the previous night--all apparently free from care in their
wild carousals. The cheek waxed pale when the policeman opened the door
and glanced round the room, but when he departed the merriment would be
resumed with vigour.
“The kitchens of some houses in Buckeridge Street afforded a specimen
of life in London rarely seen elsewhere even in London, though some in
Church Lane do so now on a smaller scale. The kitchen, a long apartment
usually on the ground-floor, had a large coke fire, along with a sink,
water-tap, one or two tables, several forms, a variety of saucepans,
and other cooking utensils, and was lighted with a gas jet. There in
the evenings suppers were discussed by the cadgers an alderman might
almost have envied--rich steaks and onions, mutton and pork chops,
fried potatoes, sausages, cheese, celery, and other articles of fare,
with abundance of porter, half-and-half, and tobacco.
“In the morning they often sat down to a breakfast of tea, coffee,
eggs, rashers of bacon, dried fish, fresh butter, and other good
things which would be considered luxuries by working people, when each
discussed his plans for the day’s rambles, and arranged as to the
exchange of garments, bandages, &c., considered necessary to prevent
recognition in those neighbourhoods recently worked.
“Their dinners were taken in the course of their rounds, consisting
generally of the best of the broken victuals given them by the
compassionate, and were eaten on one of the door-steps of some
respectable street, after which they would resort to some obscure
public-house or beer-shop in a back street or alley to partake of some
liquor.
“Heaps of good food were brought home and thrown on a side-table,
or into a corner, as unfit to be eaten by those “professional”
cadgers,--food which thousands of the working men of London would have
been thankful for. It was given to the children who visited these
lodging-houses. The finer viands, such as pieces of fancy bread, rolls,
kidneys, mutton and lamb, the gentlemen of the establishment reserved
for their own more fastidious palates.
[Illustration: BOYS EXERCISING AT TOTHILL FIELDS PRISON.]
“On Sundays many of the cadgers staid at home till night. They spent
the day at cards, shove-halfpenny, tossing, and other amusements.
Sometimes five or six shillings were staked on the table among a
party of about ten of them at cards, although coppers were the usual
stakes.... The life of a cadger is not in many instances a life of
privation. I do not speak (says Mr. Hunt) of the really distressed, to
whose wants too little attention is sometimes paid. I allude to beggars
by profession, who prefer a life of mendicancy to any other. There are
among them sailors, whose largest voyage has been to Tothill Fields
prison, or to Gravesend on a pleasure trip. Cripples with their arms in
slings, or feet, swathed in blood-stained rags, swollen to double the
size, who may be seen dancing when in their lodging at their evening
revels. You may see poor Irish with from five to thirty sovereigns in a
bag hung round their necks or in the waistband of their trousers; women
who carry hired babes, or it may be a bundle of clothing resembling a
child, on their back and breast, and other such-like impostors.
“Between Buckeridge Street and Church Lane stood Ivy Lane, leading from
George Street to Carrier Street, communicating with the latter by a
small gateway. Clark’s Court was on its left, and Rats’ Castle on its
right. This castle was a large dirty building occupied by thieves and
prostitutes, and boys who lived by plunder. On the removal of these
buildings, in 1845, the massive foundations of an hospital were found,
which had been built in the 12th century by Matilda, Queen of Henry the
First, daughter of Malcolm King of Scotland, for persons afflicted with
leprosy.
“At this place criminals were allowed a bowl of ale on their way from
Newgate to Tyburn.
“Maynard Street and Carrier Street were occupied by costermongers and
a few thieves and cadgers. George Street, part of which still stands,
consisted of lodging-houses for tramps, thieves, and beggars, together
with a few brothels.”
From George Street to High Street runs a mews called Hampshire-Hog
Yard, where there is an old established lodging-house for single men,
poor but honest.
The portion of the rookery now remaining, consisting of Church Lane,
with its courts, a small part of Carrier Street, and a smaller portion
of one side of Church Street, is now more densely crowded than when
Buckeridge Street and its neighbourhood were in existence. The old
Crown public-house in Church Lane, formerly the resort of the most
notorious cadgers, was in 1851 inhabited by Irish people, where
often from twelve to thirty persons lodged in a room. At the back of
this public-house is a yard, on the right-hand side of which is an
apartment then occupied by thirty-eight men, women, and children, all
lying indiscriminately on the floor.
Speaking of other houses in this neighbourhood in 1851, Mr. Hunt
states: “I have frequently seen as many as sixteen people in a room
about twelve feet by ten, these numbers being exceeded in larger rooms.
Many lay on loose straw littered on the floor, their heads to the wall
and their feet to the centre, and decency was entirely unknown among
them.”
Now, however, the district is considerably changed, the inhabitants are
rapidly rising in decency, cleanliness, and order, and the Rookery of
St. Giles will soon be ranked among the memories of the past.
NARRATIVE OF A LONDON SNEAK, OR COMMON THIEF.
The following narrative was given us by a convicted thief, who has for
years wandered over the streets of London as a ballad singer, and has
resided in the low lodging-houses scattered over its lowest districts.
He was a poor wretched creature, degraded in condition, of feeble
intellect, and worthless character, we picked up in a low lodging
house in Drury Lane. He was shabbily dressed in a pair of old corduroy
trousers, old brown coat, black shabby vest, faded grey neckerchief, an
old dark cap and peak, and unwashed shirt. For a few shillings he was
very ready to tell us the sad story of his miserable life.
“I was born at Abingdon, near Oxford, where my father was a bricklayer,
and kept the N----n public-house. He died when I was fourteen years of
age; I was sent to school and was taught to read, but not to write.
At this time I was a steady, well-conducted boy. At fourteen years of
age I went to work with my uncle, a basket-maker and rag merchant in
Abingdon, and lived with my mother. I wrought there for three years,
making baskets and cutting willows for them. I left my uncle then, as
he had not got any more work for me to do, and was living idle with
my mother. At this time I went with a Cheap John to the fairs, and
travelled with him the whole of that season. He was a Lancashire man,
between fifty and sixty years of age, and had a woman who travelled the
country with him, but I do not think they were married. He was a tall,
dark-complexioned man, and was a ‘duffer,’ very unprincipled in his
dealings. He sold cutlery, books, stationery, and hardware.
“When we were going from one fair to another, we would stop on the road
and make a fire, and steal fowls and potatoes, or any green-stuff that
was in season. We sometimes travelled along with gipsies, occasionally
to the number of fifty or sixty in a gang. The gipsies are a curious
sort of people, and would not let you connect with any of them unless
they saw you were to remain among them.
“I assisted Cheap John in the markets when selling his goods, and
handed them to the purchasers.
“The first thing I ever pilfered was a pair of boots and a handkerchief
from a drunken man who lay asleep at a fair in Reading, in Berks. He
was lying at the back of a booth and no one near him. This was about
dusk in September. I pawned the boots at Windsor on the day of a fair
for 3_s._, and sold the handkerchief for 1_s._
“I was about seventeen years of age when I went with Cheap John, and
remained with him about thirteen weeks, when I left, on account of a
row I had with him. I liked this employment very well, got 2_s._ in the
pound for my trouble, and sometimes had from 1_l._ to 25_s._ a week.
But the fairs were only occasional, and the money I earned was very
precarious.
“I left Cheap John at Windsor, and came to Slough with a horse-dealer,
where I left him. He gave me 2_s._ for assisting him. I then came up
to London, where I have lived ever since in the lodging-houses in the
different localities. I remember on coming to this great city I was
much astonished at its wonders, and every street appeared to me like
a fair. On coming to London I had no money, and had not any friend to
assist me. I went to Kensington workhouse, and got a night’s lodging,
and lived for about a fortnight at different workhouses in London. They
used to give the lodgers a piece of bread at night, and another in the
morning, and a night’s lodging on straw and boards.
“I then went out singing ballads in the streets of London, and could
get at an average from 2_s._ to 2_s._ 6_d._ a night, but when the
evenings were wet, I could not get anything. In the winter I sang in
the daytime, and in summer I went out in the evening. I have wandered
in this way over many of the streets and thoroughfares of London. I
sing in Marylebone, Somers Town, Camden Town, Paddington, Whitecross
Street, City, Hammersmith, Commercial Road, and Whitechapel, and
live at different lodgings, and make them my home as I move along. I
sing different kinds of songs, sentimental and comic; my favourites
are ‘Gentle Annie,’ ‘She’s reckoned a good hand at it,’ ‘The Dandy
Husband,’ ‘The Week’s Matrimony,’ ‘The Old Woman’s Sayings,’ and
‘John Bull and the Taxes.’ I often sing ‘The Dark-eyed Sailor,’ and
‘The Female Cabin Boy.’ For many years now I have lived by singing in
the public street, sometimes by myself, at other times with a mate. I
occasionally beg in Regent Street and Bond Street on the ‘fly,’ that
is, follow people passing along, and sometimes in Oxford Street and
Holborn. Sometimes I get a little job to do from people at various
kinds of handiwork, such as turning the wheel to polish steel, and
irons, &c., and do other kinds of job work. When hard up I pick pockets
of handkerchiefs, by myself or with one or two mates. [In the course
of our interview we saw he was very clumsy at picking pockets.] I
sometimes go out with the young dark-complexioned lad you saw down
stairs, who is very clever at pocket picking, and has been often
convicted before the criminal courts.
“I have spent many years living in the low lodging-houses of London.
The worst I ever saw was in Keat Street, Whitechapel, about nine years
ago, before they were reformed and changed. Numbers were then crowded
into the different rooms, and the floors were littered with naked
people of all ages, and of both sexes, men and women, and boys and
girls sleeping alongside indiscriminately. It was very common to see
young boys and girls sleeping together. The conversations that passed
between them, and the scenes that were transacted, were enough to
contaminate the morals of the young.
“In the morning they used to go to their different haunts over the
city, some begging, and others thieving.
“On Sunday evenings the only books read were such as ‘Jack Sheppard,’
‘Dick Turpin,’ and the ‘Newgate Calendar’ they got out of the
neighbouring libraries by depositing 1_s._ These were read with much
interest; the lodgers would sooner have these than any other books. I
never saw any of them go to church on Sundays. Sometimes one or two
would go to the ragged-school, such as the one in Field Lane near
Smithfield.
“It often happened a man left his wife, and she came to the
lodging-house and got a livelihood by begging. Some days she would
glean 2_s._ or 3_s._, and at other times would not get a halfpenny.
“The thieves were seldom in the lodging-house, except to meals and at
bedtime. They lived on better fare than the beggars. The pickpocket
lives better than the sneaking thief, and the pickpocket is thought
more of in the lodging-houses and prisons than the beggar.
“The lowest pickpockets often lived in these low lodging-houses, some
of them young lads, and others middle-aged men. The young pickpockets,
if clever, soon leave the lodging-houses and take a room in some
locality, as at Somers Town, Marylebone, the Burgh, Whitechapel, or
Westminster. The pickpockets in lodging-houses, for the most part, are
stockbuzzers, _i.e._, stealers of handkerchiefs.
“I have often seen the boys picking each others’ pockets for diversion
in the lodging-houses, many of them from ten to eleven years of age.
“There are a great number of sneaks in the lodging-houses. Two of them
go out together to the streets, one of them keeps a look-out while the
other steals some article, shoes, vest, or coat, &c., from the shop
or stall. I sometimes go out with a mate and take a pair of boots at
a shop-door and sell them to the pawnbroker, or to a labouring man
passing in the street.
“Sometimes I have known the lodgers make up a packet of sawdust and
put in a little piece of tobacco to cover an opening, leaving only the
tobacco to be seen looking through, and sell it to persons passing by
in the street as a packet of tobacco.
“When I am hard up I have gone out and stolen a loaf at a baker’s shop,
or chandler’s shop, and taken it to my lodging. I have often stolen
handkerchiefs, silk and cambric, from gentlemen’s pockets.
“I once stole a silver snuff-box from a man’s coat-pocket, and on one
occasion took a pocket-book with a lot of papers and postage stamps. I
burnt the papers and sold the stamps for about 1_s._ 6_d._
“I never had clothes respectable enough to try purses and watches,
and did not have nerve for it. I have seen young thieves encouraged
by people who kept the lodging-houses, such as at Keat Street,
Whitechapel, and at the Mint. They would ask the boys if they had
anything, and wish them to sell it to them, which was generally done
at an under-price. In these lodging-houses some lived very well, and
others were starving. Some had steaks and pickles, and plenty of drink,
porter and ale, eggs and bacon, and cigars to smoke. Some of the
poorest go out and get a pennyworth of bread, halfpennyworth of tea,
halfpennyworth of butter, and halfpennyworth of sugar, and perhaps not
have a halfpenny left to pay for their lodging at night. When they do
get money they often go out and spend it in drink, and perhaps the next
night are starving again.
“I have been tried for stealing a quart pot and a handkerchief, at
Bagnigge Wells police station, and was taken to Vine Street police
station for stealing 2_s._ 6_d._ from a drunken woman respectably
dressed. I took it out of her hand, and was seen by a policeman, who
ran after me and overtook me, but the woman refused to prosecute me,
and I was discharged. I was also brought before Marylebone police-court
for begging.
“In my present lodging I am pretty comfortable. We spend our evenings
telling tales and conversing to each other on our wanderings, and
playing at games, such as ‘hunt the slipper.’ I have often been in
great want, and have been driven to steal to get a livelihood.”
PICKPOCKETS AND SHOPLIFTERS.
In tracing the pickpocket from the beginning of his career, in most
cases we must turn our attention to the little ragged boys living
by a felon’s hearth, or herding with other young criminals in a low
lodging-house, or dwelling in the cold and comfortless home of drunken
and improvident parents. The great majority of the pickpockets of
the metropolis, with few exceptions, have sprung from the dregs of
society--from the hearths and homes of London thieves--so that they
have no reason to be proud of their lineage. Fifteen or twenty years
ago many of those accomplished pickpockets, dressed in the highest
style of fashion, and glittering in gold chains, studs, and rings,
who walk around the Bank of England and along Cheapside, and our busy
thoroughfares, were poor ragged boys walking barefooted among the dark
and dirty slums and alleys of Westminster and the Seven Dials, or
loitering among the thieves’ dens of the Borough and Whitechapel.
Step by step they have emerged from their rags and squalor to a higher
position of physical comfort, and have risen to higher dexterity and
accomplishment in their base and ignoble profession.
We say there are a few exceptions to the general rule, that the most
of our habitual thieves have sprung from the loins of felon parents.
We blush to say that some have joined the ranks of our London thieves,
and are living callous in open crime, who were trained in the homes of
honest and industrious parents, and were surrounded in early life with
all those influences which are fitted to elevate and improve the mind.
But here our space forbids us to enlarge.
The chief sources whence our pickpockets spring are from the low
lodging-houses--from those dwellings in low neighbourhoods, where their
parents are thieves, and where improvident and drunken people neglect
their children, such as Whitechapel, Shoreditch, Spitalfields, New Cut,
Lambeth, the Borough, Clerkenwell, Drury Lane, and other localities.
Many of them are the children of Irish parents, costermongers,
bricklayers’ labourers, and others. They often begin to steal at six
or seven years of age, sometimes as early as five years, and commit
petty sneaking thefts, as well as pick handkerchiefs from gentlemen’s
pockets. Many of these ragged urchins are taught to steal by their
companions, others are taught by trainers of thieves, young men and
women, and some middle-aged convicted thieves. They are learned to
be expert in this way. A coat is suspended on the wall with a bell
attached to it, and the boy attempts to take the handkerchief from
the pocket without the bell ringing. Until he is able to do this with
proficiency he is not considered well trained. Another way in which
they are trained is this: The trainer--if a man--walks up and down the
room with a handkerchief in the tail of his coat, and the ragged boys
amuse themselves abstracting it until they learn to do it in an adroit
manner. We could point our finger to three of these execrable wretches,
who are well known to train schools of juvenile thieves--one of them,
a young man at Whitechapel; another, a young woman at Clerkenwell; and
a third, a middle-aged man residing about Lambeth Walk. These base
wretches buy the stolen handkerchiefs from the boys at a paltry sum.
We have also heard of some being taught to pick pockets by means of an
effigy; but this is not so well authenticated.
Great numbers of these ragged pickpockets may be seen loitering about
our principal streets, ready to steal from a stall or shop-door when
they find an opportunity. During the day they generally pick pockets
two or three in a little band, but at dusk a single one can sometimes
do it with success. They not only steal handkerchiefs of various
kinds, but also pocketbooks from the tails of gentlemen’s coats. We
may see them occasionally engaged at this work on Blackfriars Bridge
and London Bridge, also along Bishopsgate, Shoreditch, Whitechapel,
Drury Lane, and similar localities. They may be seen at any hour of
the day, but chiefly from 10 to 2 o’clock. They are generally actively
on the look-out on Saturday evening in the shopping streets where the
labouring people get their provisions in for the Sunday. At this early
stage the boys occasionally pick pockets, and go about cadging and
sneaking (begging and committing petty felonies).
The next stage commences--we shall say--about fourteen years of age,
when the stripling lays aside his rags, and dresses in a more decent
way, though rather shabby. Perhaps in a dark or gray frock-coat, dark
or dirty tweed trousers, and a cap with peak, and shoes. At this time
many of them go to low neighbourhoods, or to those quieter localities
where the labouring people reside, and pick the pockets of the wives
and daughters of this class of persons; others steal from gentlemen
passing along thoroughfares, while a few adroit lads are employed by
men to steal from ladies’ pockets in the fashionable streets of the
metropolis.
These young thieves seldom commit their depredations in the localities
where they are known, but prowl in different parts of the metropolis.
They are of a wandering character, changing from one district to
another, and living in different lodging-houses--often leaving their
parent’s houses as early as ten years of age. Sometimes they are driven
by drunken loafing parents to steal, though in most cases they leave
their comfortless homes and live in lodging-houses.
When they have booty, they generally bring it to some person to dispose
of, as suspicion would be aroused if they went to sell or pawn it
themselves. In some cases they give it to the trainer of thieves, or
they take it to some low receiving house, where wretches encourage
them in stealing; sometimes to low coffee-houses, low hairdressers or
tailors, who act as middle-men to dispose of the property, generally
giving them but a small part of the value.
In the event of their rambling to a distant part of London, they
sometimes arrange to get one of their number to convey the stolen
goods to these parties. At other times they dispose of them to low
wretches connected with the lodging-houses, or other persons in
disreputable neighbourhoods.
At this time many of them cohabit with girls in low lodging-houses;
many of whom are older than themselves, and generally of the felon
class.
These lads frequently steal at the “tail” of gentlemen’s coats, and
learn the other modes of picking pockets.
Stealing the handkerchief from the “tail” of a gentleman’s coat in the
street is generally effected in this way. Three or four usually go
together. They see an old gentleman passing by. One remains behind,
while the other two follow up close beside him, but a little behind.
The one walking by himself behind is the looker out to see if there are
any police or detectives near, or if any one passing by or hovering
around is taking notice of them. One of the two walking close by the
gentleman adroitly picks his pocket, and coils the handkerchief up in
his hand so as not to be seen, while the other brings his body close to
him, so as not to let his arm be seen by any passer by.
If the party feel him taking the handkerchief from his pocket, the
thief passes it quickly to his companion, who runs off with it. The
looker-out walks quietly on as if nothing had occurred, or sometimes
walks up to the gentleman and asks him what is the matter, or pretends
to tell him in what direction the thief has run, pointing him to a very
different direction from the one he has taken.
They not only abstract handkerchiefs but also pocketbooks from the tail
of gentlemen’s coats, or any other article they can lay their fingers
on.
This is the common way in which the coat-pocket is picked when the
person is proceeding along the street. Sometimes it happens that one
thief will work by himself, but this is very seldom. In the case of a
person standing, the coat-tail pocket is picked much in the same manner.