THE SOCIAL EVIL.
In January, 1866, Bishop Simpson, of the Methodist Church, startled the
country with the declaration, made at a public meeting at Cooper
Institute, that the prostitutes of New York City were as numerous as
the members of the Methodist Church. The following letter of Mr. John
A. Kennedy, Superintendent of the Metropolitan Police, furnishes the
most authentic statement of the facts of the case:
OFFICE OF THE SUPERINTENDENT OF METROPOLITAN POLICE,
300 MULBERRY STREET.
NEW YORK, _January_ 22, 1866.
'MY DEAR SIR.--Your note of to-day is before me, with the printed sheet
of the '_Great Metropolis Condsened_,' inquiring whether the figures in
the paragraph marked 'Licentiousness' can be verified. I have to say
that I have nothing in my possession to sustain such monstrous
statements. During the past fall I had a careful examination made of
the concert saloons in this city, for the purpose of using the result
in our annual report; which you will find in the leading dailies of
Friday, January 5th, instant. At that time we found eleven hundred and
ninety-one waiter girls employed in two hundred and twenty-three
concert and drinking saloons. Although the greater part of these girls
are already prostitutes, yet we have evidence that they are not all
such; but continuation at the employment is sure to make them all
alike. Previous to that I had not made any census of persons of that
character since January 24th, 1864, when the footing was as follows:
Houses of prostitution, five hundred and ninety-nine. Public
prostitutes, two thousand one hundred and twenty three. Concert saloons
of ill repute, seventy-two. The number of waiting girls was not then
taken.
The newspapers of last week, in reporting Bishop Simpson's speech,
delivered in St. Paul's Church, made him say that there are twenty
thousand prostitutes in New York. I felt it about time to correct the
impressions of such well-meaning men as he, and on Thursday last I sent
out an order, instructing a new census to be made. I have nearly all
the returns in, and I find a much less increase than I expected. A
large number who have been following the army during the war, very
naturally have gravitated to this city. Where else would they go? But
with all that, the increase is below my estimate. On the 22d day of
January, 1866, the report is as follows:
Houses of prostitution, six hundred and twenty-one. Houses of
assignation, ninety-nine. Concert saloons of ill repute, seventy-five.
Public prostitutes, two thousand six hundred and seventy. Waiter girls
in concert and drinking saloons, seven hundred and forty-seven.
You will see that houses of prostitution have increased twenty-two in
two years, and houses of assignation have decreased thirteen. Concert
saloons have increased four. Prostitutes have increased five hundred
and forty-seven. The waiter girls will be increased by the figures to
come in.
As it regards 'other women,' we have no means of knowing anything of
their number. That there are many of them cannot be disputed; the
number of houses for their accommodation tells us that; but there is no
such number as two thousand five hundred, you may depend on it, visit
those places, and of those who do, the waiter girls furnish the larger
portion.
So that, taking all the public prostitutes, and all the waiter girls in
music saloons (and these we have to a unit), there are but three
thousand three hundred.
Medical estimates are humbugs, from Dr. D. M. Reeves down to Dr.
Sanger. According to Dr. Reeves, every female in the city, over
thirteen years of age, was required to fill up his estimate of lewd
women, and Dr. Sanger is but little more reasonable.
Very respectfully, yours, JOHN A. KENNEDY.
Nearly three years have elapsed since the above letter was written, and
there can be no doubt that the interval has witnessed a very decided
increase of this species of vice. The greatest increase is, perhaps, in
the class termed by Mr. Kennedy "other women," in which are included
the women of nominal respectability, whose crime is known only to
themselves and their lovers. They are the last persons in the world one
would think of accusing, for they are not even suspected of wrong
doing. Many of them seem to be innocent young girls, others wives and
mothers of undoubted purity. Society is corrupt to its very heart in
the great city, and there are thousands of nominally virtuous women who
lead, in secret, lives of shame. The authorities cannot include this
class in their statistics, as they know nothing of them.
FIRST-CLASS HOUSES.
There are very few first-class houses of ill-fame in the city, and they
are located in the best neighborhoods. They are generally hired fully
furnished, the annual rent in some cases amounting to ten and twelve
thousand dollars. The neighbors have little or no suspicion as to their
character, which is, in such cases, known only to the police and their
frequenters. The establishment is palatial in its appointments, and is
conducted with the utmost outward propriety.
The proprietress is generally a middle-aged woman of fine personal
appearance. She has a man living with her, who passes as her husband,
in order that she may be able to show a legal protector in case of
trouble with the authorities. This couple usually assume some foreign
name, and pass themselves off upon the unsuspecting as persons of the
highest respectability.
The inmates are usually young women, or women in the prime of life.
They are carefully chosen for their beauty and charms, and are
frequently persons of education and refinement. They are required to
observe the utmost decorum in the parlors of the house, and their
toilettes are exquisite and modest. They never make acquaintances on
the street, and, indeed, have no need to do so. The women who fill
these houses are generally of respectable origin. They are the
daughters, often the wives or widows, of persons of the best social
position. Some have been drawn astray by villains; some have been
drugged and ruined, and have fled to these places to hide their shame
from their friends; some have adopted the life in order to avoid
poverty, their means having been suddenly swept away; some have entered
from motives of extravagance and vanity; some are married women, who
have been unfaithful to their husbands, and who have been deserted in
consequence; some have been ruined by the cruelty and neglect of their
husbands; some, horrible as it may seem, have been forced into such a
life by their parents; and, others, who constitute the smallest class,
have adopted the life from motives of pure licentiousness. But,
whatever may be the cause, the fact is evident to all--these places are
always full of women competent to grace the best circles of social
life.
The visitors to these places are men of means. No others can afford to
patronize them. Besides the money paid to his companion, each man is
expected to spend a considerable amount in wine. The liquors are owned
and sold by the proprietress, her prices being generally double those
of the best Broadway wine stores. Her profits are enormous. The "first
men" of the city and country visit these places. The proportion of
married men amongst the guests is very large. Governors, Congressmen,
lawyers, judges, physicians, and, alas that it should be said, even
ministers of the Gospel, are to be seen there. Men coming to New York
from other parts of the country, seem to think themselves free from all
the restraints of morality and religion, and while here commit acts of
sin and dissipation, such as they would not dream of indulging in, in
their own communities. They fully equal and often surpass the city
population in this respect.
Great care is taken by the proprietors of these houses that the visits
of their guests shall be as private as possible. Upon ringing the bell
the visitor is admitted by a finely dressed servant, and shown into the
parlor. If he desires an interview with any particular person he is
quickly admitted to her presence. If his visit is "general," he awaits
in the parlor the entrance of the inmates of the house, who drop in at
intervals. No other gentleman is admitted to the parlor while he is
there, and in leaving the house no one is allowed to enter or look into
the parlors. If two men enter together they are thrown into the parlor
at the same time.
The earnings of the inmates are very large. They pay an extravagant
rate of board, and are expected to dress handsomely. They rarely save
any thing. They are well cared for by the proprietress as long as they
are profitable to her, but in case of sickness, or the loss of their
beauty, they are turned out of doors without the slightest hesitation.
Generally they are in debt to the proprietress at such times, and their
property is seized by her to satisfy her claims.
In entering these houses, women believe they will always be able to
keep themselves amongst the best classes of such females. They are soon
undeceived, however. The rule is so rigid that there is not more than
one exception in a thousand cases. They rarely remain in first-class
houses more than a few months, or a year at the longest. In leaving
them, they begin to go down the ladder, until they reach the dance-
houses and purlieus of the city, where disease and death in their most
horrible forms await them. All this in a few years, for the life which
such women, even the best of them, lead, is so fearfully destructive of
body and soul that a very few survive it more than five years at the
longest. The police authorities say that the first-class houses change
their inmates every few months.
Let no woman deceive herself, "_The wages of sin is death._" Once
entered upon a life of shame, however glittering it may be in the
outset, her fate is certain--unless she anticipates her final doom by
suicide. She cannot reform if she would. No one will help her back to
the paths of right. Even those who loved her best, in her virtue, will
turn from her in horror in her sin. She will be driven on by an
avenging fate, which she cannot resist if she would, until she is one
of those wretched, lost creatures, whose dens are in the purlieus of
the Five Points and Water street. There is only one means of safety.
Avoid the first step. Once place your foot in the downward path, and
you are lost. "_The Wages of sin is death_"
SECOND-CLASS HOUSES.
These establishments are better known to the general public than those
we have just described, as they are open to all persons of moderate
means. They are located in all parts of the town, many of them being in
respectable neighborhoods. They are handsomely furnished, and are
conducted in a flashy style. The inmates are those who, for various
causes, have been turned out of first-class houses, or who have never
been able to enter those establishments. They do not hesitate to
solicit custom on the streets and in the public places, though they are
not, as a general rule, obliged to do so.
This is the second step in the downward career of fallen women. From
this step the descent is rapid. The third and fourth-class houses, and
then the streets, are reached quickly, after which the dance-houses and
the Five Points hells claim their victims.
WHERE THE UNFORTUNATES COME FROM.
It is generally very hard to learn the true history of the lost women
of New York, for nearly all wish to make their past lot appear better
than it really was, with the melancholy hope of elevating themselves in
the estimation of their present acquaintances. It may be safely
asserted, however, that the majority of them come from the humbler
walks of life. Women of former position and refinement are the
exceptions. Poverty, and a desire to be able to gratify a love for fine
clothes, are among the chief causes of prostitution in this city. At
the same time the proprietors of houses of all classes spare no pains
to draw into their nets all the victims who will listen to them. They
have their agents scattered all over the country, who use every means
to tempt young girls to come to the great city to engage in this life
of shame. They promise them money, fine clothes, ease, and an elegant
home. The seminaries and rural districts of the land furnish a large
proportion of this class. The hotels in this city are closely watched
by the agents of these infamous establishments, especially hotels of
the plainer and less expensive kind. These harpies watch their chance,
and when they lay siege to a blooming young girl surround her with
every species of enticement. She is taken to church, to places of
amusement, or to the Park, and, in returning, a visit is paid to the
house of a friend of the harpy. Refreshments are offered, and a glass
of drugged wine plunges the victim into a stupor, from which she awakes
a ruined woman.
A CASE IN POINT.
Some months ago, two girls, daughters of a respectable man, engaged as
foreman on Prospect Park, Brooklyn, met with an advertisement calling
for girls to learn the trade of dressmaking, in West Broadway, New
York. The two sisters in question, applied for and obtained the
situation. After being engaged there for a few days, at a salary of
three dollars a week, the woman, by whom they were employed, proposed
that during the week they should board with her. In the furtherance of
this idea, the woman visited the parents of the girls in this city, and
made the same proposition to them. Highly pleased with her agreeable
manner, and kind interest in the welfare of their daughters, the
parents acceded to her request, with the understanding that they should
return home every Saturday evening. Saturday night came, and with it
rain, but not with it the daughters. On Monday morning the woman
appeared before the anxious parents, offering as an excuse for the non-
appearance of the girls on Saturday night, that she did not deem it
prudent for them to venture out, owing to the inclemency of the
weather, and assuring the old folks that they should visit them on
Thursday night, which assurance was not fulfilled. Next morning the
father, becoming alarmed for their safety, went over to New York, and
searched for the dressmaker's residence in West Broadway, but was
unable to find it, or indeed to learn any thing of the woman. Now
becoming thoroughly aroused to the danger of their position, he
instituted a thorough search, securing the services of the New York
detective force. After a lapse of five weeks, the younger girl was
discovered in a low house in Baltic street, Brooklyn. The story was
then told the unfortunate father by his wretched daughter. After
entering the service of the woman, the sisters were held against their
will, and were subjected to the most inhuman and debasing treatment.
Finally they were separated from each other's society, and became the
inmates of dens. The woman's whereabouts is unknown to the police, and
the elder sister is still missing. The above facts are vouched for on
the most undoubted authority.
RECRUITS FROM NEW ENGLAND.
A very large number of the women engaged in this infamous business are
from New England. That section of the country is so overcrowded, and
the females are so numerous therein, that there is no room for all at
home. As a consequence hundreds come to the city every year. They come
with high hopes, but soon find it as hard, if not harder, to obtain
employment here. The runners for the houses of ill fame are always on
the watch for them, and from various causes, these girls fall victims
to them, and join the lost sisterhood. They are generally the daughters
of farmers, or working men, and when they come are fresh in
constitution and blooming in their young beauty. God pity them! These
blessings soon vanish. They dare not escape from their slavery, for
they have no means of earning a living in the great city, and they know
they would not be received at home, were their story known. Their very
mothers would turn from them with loathing. Without hope, they cling to
their shame, and sink lower and lower, until death mercifully ends
their human sufferings. As long as they are prosperous, they represent
in their letters home that they are engaged in a steady, honest
business, and the parents' fears are lulled. After awhile these letters
are rarer. Finally they cease altogether. Would a father find his child
after this, he must seek her in the foulest hells of the city.
SAVED IN TIME.
The police are frequently called upon by persons from other parts of
the country, for aid in seeking a lost daughter, or a sister, or some
female relative. Sometimes these searches, which are always promptly
made, are rewarded with success. Some unfortunates are, in this way,
saved before they have fallen so low as to make efforts in their behalf
vain. Others, overwhelmed with despair, will refuse to leave their
shame. They cannot bear the pity or silent scorn of their former
relatives and friends, and prefer to cling to their present homes. It
is very hard for a fallen woman to retrace her steps, even if her
friends or relatives are willing to help her do so.
Last winter an old gray haired man came to the city from his farm in
New England, accompanied by his son, a manly youth, in search of his
lost daughter. His description enabled the police to recognize the girl
as one who had but recently made her appearance on the streets, and
they at once led the father and brother to the door of the house she
was living in. As they entered the well-filled parlor, the girl
recognized her father. With a cry of joy she sprang into his arms.
Lifting her tenderly, the old man carried her into the street,
exclaiming through, his tears;
"We've saved her, thank God! We've saved our Lizzie."
That night all three left the city for their distant home.
Another instance occurs to us:
A gentleman once found his daughter in one of the first-class houses of
the city, to which she had been tracked by the police. He sought her
there, and she received him with every demonstration of joy and
affection. He urged her to return home with him, promising that all
should be forgiven and forgotten, but she refused to do so, and was
deaf to all his entreaties. He brought her mother to see her, and
though the girl clung to her and wept bitterly in parting, she would
not go home. She felt that it was too late. She was lost.
Many of these poor creatures treasure sacredly the memories of their
childhood and home. They will speak of them with a calmness which shows
how deep and real is their despair. They would flee from their horrible
lives if they could, but they are so enslaved that they are not able to
do so. Their sin crushes them to the earth, and they cannot rise above
it.
THE SISTERS' ROW.
This is the name given to a row of first-class houses in West Twenty-
fifth street, all fashionable houses of prostitution. A woman came to
this city from a New England village, and was enticed into one of the
fashionable dens. She paid a visit to her home, dressed up in all her
finery. Her parents believed her a Broadway saleswoman, but to her
sisters, one by one, she confided the life of gayety and pleasure she
led, and one by one the sisters left the peaceful village, until, at
last, the whole seven sisters were domiciled in the crime-gilt palaces
in West Twenty-fifth street. Thus, one sister ruined six in her own
family; how many others in the same place is unknown.
Another instance: A woman, named----, is from Binghamton, in this
State. As a matter of course, she has correspondents in that place; she
knows all the giddy-headed girls of the town; she knows the
dissatisfied wives. The result is her house is a small Binghamton.
Thus, one girl from a village may ruin a dozen; and it is in this way
they so readily find the home they are in search of in a strange city.
THE ALBUM BUSINESS.
A peculiarity of the Twenty-ninth Police Precinct of the city, in which
the majority of the better class of houses are located, "is the large
number of lady boarders, who do nothing, apparently, for a living. They
live in furnished rooms, or they may board in respectable families.
They leave their cards with the madame of the house, together with
their photograph. They live within a few minutes' call, and when a
gentleman enters the parlor he has a few minutes' chat with the madame,
who hands him the album. He runs his eye over the pictures, makes his
choice, and a messenger is dispatched for No. 12 or 24. These are what
may be termed the day ladies, or outside boarders. Some of them are
married, living with their husbands, who know nothing of what is going
on, and it may be some of them have shown the readers of the _Sun_ how
cheap they can keep house, dress well, and put money in the bank
beside, on a given weekly income of their husband. Those ladies who
hire furnished rooms all dine at the restaurants, but they are never
found soliciting men in the street. True, in the restaurant they may
accept a recognition, but a man has to be careful what he is about."
EFFORTS TO BREAK UP THESE HOUSES.
"Twenty years ago, when Matsell was Chief of Police, he used to try and
break up the most notorious houses by stationing a policeman at the
door, and when any one went in or out, the light from a bull's eye
lantern was thrown in the face of the passer out or in. That has never
been effective. Captain Speight tried it in the case of Mrs.----, who
keeps the most splendidly furnished house in West Twenty-fifth street.
She owns the house, and has a few boarders who pay her fifty dollars a
week for board, and ten dollars a bottle for their wine, and twenty-
five per cent, on the profits of her boarders. The attempt was made to
oust this woman, but she very politely told the captain that he might
honor her as long as he pleased with the policeman and his lantern, but
she could stand it as long as he could; she owned the house, and she
meant to live in it; nothing could be proven against it, and they dare
not arrest her. The consequence was that after a time the bull's eye
was withdrawn."
A NEW RUSE ADOPTED.
The latest ruse adopted to obtain fresh country or city girls is to
publish an advertisement in the papers, for 'a young lady of some
accomplishments to act as a companion for a lady about to travel
abroad. The applicant must have some knowledge of French, be a good
reader, have a knowledge and taste for music, and be of a lively
disposition.' Such an advertisement brought a young lady from Newark to
a certain house in Twenty-fifth street. She had not been long in the
parlor until she saw at a glance the character of the house. Both then
spoke in pretty plain terms. The applicant was given a week to think
over it. She returned at the end of a week and voluntarily entered the
house. She remained in it six months. Disgusted with the business, she
returned to her parents--who believe to this day that she was all this
time abroad--and afterwards married a highly respectable gentleman, and
she is now supposed to be a virtuous woman.
"A beautiful young girl of seventeen, from Danbury, Connecticut when
taken from one of these houses by her father, told him, in the station-
house, that he might take her home, but she would run away the first
chance. Her only excuse was: 'Mother is cross, and home is an old,
dull, dead place.'"
A SOILED DOVE.
On the 1st of December, 1857, a funeral wended its slow passage along
the crowded Broadway--for a few blocks, at least--challenging a certain
share of the attention of the promenaders of that fashionable
thoroughfare. There were but two carriages following the hearse, and
the hearse itself contained all that remained of a young woman--a girl
who had died in her eighteenth year, and whose name on earth had been
Mary R----.
Mary R----, was the daughter of a poor couple in the interior of the
State of New York. She was a girl of exquisite grace and beauty, but
her life had been one of toil until her sixteenth year, when she
attracted the attention of the son of a city millionaire, whose country
seat was in the neighborhood. He was pleased with her beauty, and she
simple and confiding, gave her heart to him without a struggle. She
trusted him, and fell a victim to his arts. He took her to New York
with him, and placed her in a neat little room in Sixth Avenue.
She was a 'soiled dove,' indeed, but the gentlest and dearest, and most
devoted of 'doves,' 'soiled,' not by herself, but by others--soiled
externally, but not impure within. There are many such doves as she--
poor creatures to be pitied, not to be commended, not at all to be
imitated, but not to be harshly or wholly condemned--more sinned
against than sinning.
For a while Mary R----'s life in New York was a paradise--at least it
was a paradise to her. She lived all day in her cosy little apartment,
did her own little housework, cooked her own little dinner, sung her
own little songs, and was as happy as a bird, thinking all the while of
him, the man she loved--the man whose smile was all in all to her of
earth. At night she would receive her beloved in her best dress and
sweetest smile; and if he deigned to walk with her around the block, or
take her with him to the Central Park, she would be supremely blessed,
and dance around him with delight. She cost nothing, or next to
nothing; her wants were simple, her vanity and love of amusement were
vastly below the average of her sex, she only needed love, and there is
an old saying that 'love is cheap.' But, alas! there is no more
expensive luxury than love--for love requires what few men really
possess, a heart--and this article of a heart was precisely what the
merchant's son did not possess. In time, he wearied of this young girl
and her affection; her tenderness became commonplace; besides he had
discovered attractions elsewhere. And so he determined 'to end with
Mary,' and he ended indeed. Though he knew that she worshipped the very
ground that he trod on, though he knew that every unkind word he
uttered went through her heart as would a stab though he knew that the
very idea of his leaving her would blast her happiness like a lightning
stroke; yet he boldly announced to her that their intimacy must cease,
that 'he must leave her. True, he would see her comfortably provided
for, during a while at least, until she could find another protector,'
etc., etc.
"The agonized Mary could listen to naught more. For the first time in
her life, out of the anguish and true love of her heart, she reproached
the man to whom her every thought had been devoted--she reminded him of
all his promises of affection, all his pledges of passion, she clung to
him, and avowed by all that she considered holy, _himself_, that she
would not let him go. In brief, she raised what 'fast men' style a
scene, and a scene was just one of those things which irritated the
merchant's son beyond his powers of control.
"The scoundrel, for such he was, though by birth, education, and
position a gentleman, irritated at her entreaties, vexed with himself,
despising the meanness of his own soul, and hating her for revealing it
to him, raised his arm, and despite her look of love and sorrow,
absolutely struck her to the earth. The poor girl never shrieked, never
resisted, she even kissed, with an almost divinely tender forgiveness,
his hand--his hand who struck her--and then fell to the floor of her
pleasant, though humble little room, insensible.
"With a curse, half levelled at her and half at himself, the false
'lover' departed. The young millionaire never looked upon Mary R----'s
face again. In three days there was no Mary R----'s face to look at;
for the 'soiled dove' within that time had died--not from the blow, oh,
no--_that_ was a trifle; but from the _unkindness_ of it; not from a
fractured limb, or from a ruptured bloodvessel, but from a broken
heart. She was buried at the expense of the woman of whom her destroyer
had rented the little apartment on Sixth Avenue, where she had passed
her happiest days and her last. The rich merchant's son heard of her
death with a half sigh and then a shrug; but if ever the blood of a
human being lay upon the head of another, that of poor Mary R--lies
upon the head of the rich merchant's son, and will be required of him."
There are several associations in the city, whose object is to rescue
lost women from their lives of shame. Prominent amongst these is the
Midnight Mission.
THE MIDNIGHT MISSION.
This institution is located on Amity street, and is open at all hours,
to all who seek its doors voluntarily, or are directed thither. The
managers in a recent report, speak of their success as follows:
"That the managers have reason to believe that more than sixty women
have been benefited through their endeavors recently, many of whom have
abandoned their life of shame, and a large proportion are already
restored to their friends, or have been placed in respectable
situations, where they are earning an honest living. Twenty are now in
charge, in process of industrial, moral, and religious training,
preparatory to taking positions of usefulness and respectability. Could
they be seen by the public, as we see them, after the work of the day
is ended, grouped together in conversation, in innocent recreation, or
in devotion, their faces already beaming with the light of hope for
this life and the life to come, surely we should need no other argument
to induce Christian people, with kind words and abounding gifts, to
speed us in our work of love."
We would not upon any consideration weaken one single effort in behalf
of these poor creatures, but we cannot disguise the fact that but few
of this class are saved. Women who enter the downward path rarely
retrace their steps.