To return, however, to the projected Habitual Criminals’ Bill. It is not the ticket-of-leave man alone who has reasons for quaking lest it should become law; quakingfor fear of injustice, not justice, that is to say. The class its stern provisions chiefly, and, as I venture to opine, cruelly affect are those unfortunates who have suffered two distinct terms of imprisonment. From the date of his second conviction a man is to be subject to police supervision for a term of seven years. They have the advantage over the ticket-of-leave man, that they are not required to report themselves periodically at a police-station; but, like the criminal of deeper dye, any day within their seven years of supervision they are liable to be arrested by the police and taken before a magistrate, to prove that they are not deriving a livelihood from dishonest sources. Should they fail in doing so, they are to be committed to prison for a year. Of the question itself, “What is an habitual criminal?” remarks theTimes, commenting on the communication of its correspondent, “we say, take a walk with the police, and they will show you the class in all its varieties as easily as you could be shown the animals in the Zoological Gardens. Here they are,—men about whose character and calling nobody would ever pretend to entertain a doubt. We have been all perplexing ourselves with the possible fate of some contrite convict disposed to become respectable, but thwarted in his efforts by the intervention of the police. Why, among the real genuine representatives of crime—among the people described by our correspondent—there is not a man who dreams, or ever would dream, of any honest calling . . . The profession has its grades, like any other; and so hereis a company of first-class thieves, and another company representing the opposite end of the scale. At one establishment they are fashionably attired, and not altogether ill-mannered; at another the type is that of Bill Sykes himself, even to his bulldog. But through all these descriptions, whether of house or inmate, host or guest, high or low, thief or receiver, there runs one assumption which we press upon our readers as practically decisive of the question before us. It is this: that about ‘the habitual criminality’ of the whole class there is not, in the mind of any human creature concerned, the smallest doubt whatever. . . . The practice of the past generation was simple: some petty offence commonly began, then as now, a criminal career. It was detected and punished, and the criminal was sent back to his place in society. A second, and perhaps a third, act of deeper guilt followed, and the graduate in crime was condemned to transportation beyond seas. As long as this punishment retained any terrors it may have been efficient; but long before it was abandoned it had come to be recognised as an acknowledged benefit rather than a penalty by those who were sentenced to it. The result was the constant secretion of a criminal class on one hand, and the removal on the other to another sphere when they became ripe for the voyage—the removal being viewed as an encouragement to the commission of similar offences. We must make the painful acknowledgment that part of this dismal cycle cannot be materially altered. When a man is convicted of his first criminal act, we cannotknow whether it is an isolated deed or whether it is the first-fruit of a lifetime. When he has gone from less to greater, and has proved himself indurated in crime, we are forced to protect society by removing him from it. . . . Nor does the proposal involve that extensive and minute system of policeespionageof which some people have been apprehensive. An honest man can always keep out of such questionable circumstances; and unless he places himself within them, he is as independent of the police as any unconvicted Englishman. When a man has been twice convicted, it is surely no great hardship to deprive him of the privilege of attempting and plotting crime with impunity.”
“Only a Beggar”—The Fraternity333Years ago—A Savage Law—Origin of the Poor-Laws—Irish Distinction in the Ranks of Beggary—King Charles’s Proclamation—Cumberland Discipline.
Wereit not that the reader’s sound and simple sense renders it quite unnecessary, it might be of importance to premise that to be “only a beggar” does not constitute a human being a curse against his species. There are those amongst the greatest and most famous who have been beggars, and many of the mightiest, groaning under the crushing burden of distracting power and unruly riches, have bemoaned their fate and envied the careless beggar whose dwindled strength was at least equal to carrying his slender wallet, whose heart was as light as his stomach, and whose wildest dreams of wealth never soared vastly above a cosy barn to sleep in, a warm old cast-off coat, and a sixpence. To be sure, in many instances these dissatisfied onesmay not have given any steadfast consideration as regards such a decided change of state as might happen to suit them. It is related of a King of Scotland that, wearying of the cares of government, he slipped away from his palace and its cloying luxuries, to taste the delights that attach to the existence of ragged roving mendicants; but though his majesty affected to have enjoyed himself very much, and discoursed afterwards gravely of the great moral profit it brought him, it is not recorded that he persevered for any very long time in the pursuit of the newly-discovered blessing, or that he evinced any violent longing to return to it. Perhaps, having convinced himself of the advantages of poverty, he generously resolved to leave it to his subjects, contenting himself with such occasional glimpses of it as might be got by looking out o’ window.
It is now 333 years ago since the beggar ceased to be dependent on voluntary charity, and the State insisted on his support by the parishes. In the year 1536 was passed an Act of Parliament abolishing the mendicant’s right to solicit public alms. Under a penalty of twenty shillings a month for every case of default, the parochial authorities were bound to provide work for the able-bodied. A poor’s-rate, as we now understand the term, was not then thought of, the money required for pauper relief being chiefly derived from collections in the churches, a system that to a limited extent enabled the clergy to exercise their pious influences as in the old times, and before the destruction of monasteries and religious houses by Henry VIII. It was thewholesale spoliation in question, that occurred immediately after the Reformation, that first made known to the people at large the vast numbers of beggars that were amongst them. The Act of 27 Henry VIII. c. 25, prohibited indiscriminate almsgiving.
What the charitable townsman had to give, he was bound to distribute within the boundaries of the parish in which he resided. Under the old and looser condition of affairs the beggar derived the greater part of his gettings from the traveller; but the obnoxious Act effectually cut off from him this fruitful source of supply, since it provided that any parishioner or townsman who distributed alms out of his proper district, should forfeit to the State ten times the amount given. Whether the recipient of the bounty was in a position to act as “informer,” with the customary advantage of receiving half the penalty, is not stated.
Against sturdy beggars the law was especially severe. On his first conviction he was whipped, the second led to the slicing-off of his right ear, and if after that he was deaf to the law’s tender admonitions, sentence of death was executed on him.
This savage law, however, remained in force not more than ten years; one of the earliest Acts of Edward VI. was to mitigate the penalties attaching to beggary. Even under this humane King’s ruling, however, a beggar’s punishment was something very far beyond a joke. Every person able to work, and not willing, and declining a “job,” though for no more tempting wages than his bare meat and drink, wasliable to be branded on the shoulder, and any man willing to undertake the troublesome charge might claim the man as his slave for two years. His scale of diet during that time was more meagre than that allotted to the pauper in our own times. If the slave’s master was a generous man, he might bestow on him the scraps from his table, or such meat-offal as his dogs had no relish for; but in law he was only bound to provide him with a sufficiency of bread and water. If such hot feeding did not provoke him to arouse and set to work with a will, his master might chain him and flog him to death’s door; and so long as he did not drive him beyond that, the law would hold him harmless. Sometimes the poor wretch so goaded would run away, but in the event of his being recaptured, he was branded on the cheek, and condemned to lifelong servitude; and if this did not cure his propensity for “skedaddling,” he was hanged offhand. Any employer having a fancy for such a commodity as an incorrigible runaway might have the man so condemned as his slave for life; but if no one offered, he was chained at the legs and set to work to keep the highways in repair.
It was speedily found, however, that under such mild laws it was impossible to keep the begging fraternity in a proper frame of mind; and after a trial of it for three years the old Act of Henry was restored in full force.
In 1551 there dawned symptoms of the system that has taken more than three hundred years to develop, and even now can scarcely lay claim to perfection. Collectorswere appointed whose duty it was to make record of the name, residence, and occupation of all who apparently were able to give, as well as of those whose helpless distress entitled them to relief. In the words of the ancient enactment, the said collectors were to “gently ask every man and woman, that they of their charity will give weekly to the relief of the poor.” To give, however, was optional, and not compulsory; no more severe pressure was brought to bear against a grudger than that the minister or churchwardens were sent to him to exhort him to charity; but so many curmudgeons remained inexorable that the voluntary system remained in force no longer than twelve years; and then the statute regulating poor’s relief was remodelled, and it was declared good law that any person able to contribute, and declining to do so, might be summoned before a justice, who would tax him according to his discretion, and commit him to gaol if he still remained obdurate.
This last Act was passed in 1563, but nine years afterwards, we find the Government once again urged to repair what evidently had all this time remained an unsatisfactory business. It is evident that the arrangements made for the support of the impotent poor tended to loosen the shackles invented for the suppression of the professional beggar. The last-mentioned individual was found to be flourishing again, and it was deemed advisable to make still shorter his restricted tether. A law was passed enacting that “all persons whole and mighty in body, able to labour, not havingland or master, nor using any lawful merchandise, craft, or mystery, and all common labourers, able in body, loitering and refusing to work for such reasonable wage as is commonly given, should for the first offence be grievously whipped, and burned through the gristle of the right ear with a hot iron of the compass of an inch about.”
This mild and moderate mandate was promulgated under the sanction of the virgin Queen Elizabeth, and it is to be observed that during the same beneficent reign were passed laws in connection with labour and labourers that, were they revived, would go hard with trade-unionists and strikers in general. By the statutes 39 of Elizabeth, cap. 3 and 4 (1598), to refuse to work at the recognised and ordinary wages subjected the malcontent to be “openly whipped until his body should be bloody, and forthwith sent from parish to parish, the most straight way to the parish where he was born, there to put himself to labour, as a true subject ought to do.” Under the same Acts of Elizabeth, the overseers of the poor in every parish were empowered to raise by “taxation of every inhabitant, parson, vicar, and other, and of every occupier of lands, houses, tithes, mines, &c., such sums of money as they shall require for providing a sufficient stock of flax, hemp, wool, and other ware or stuff to set the poor on work, and also competent sums for relief of lame, blind, old, and impotent persons.” By virtue of the Acts in question, justices were empowered to commit to prison the able-bodied who would not work; and churchwardensand overseers were charged to build suitable houses, at the cost of the parish, for the reception of the impotent poor only.
As, however, is observed by Mr. Halliday (to whose excellent account of theOrigin and History of the Poor-LawsI stand indebted for much of the material employed in this summary) “these simple provisions were in course of time greatly perverted, and many abuses were introduced into the administration of the poor-law. One of the most mischievous practices was that which was established by the justices for the county of Berks in 1795, when, in order to meet the wants of the labouring population—caused by the high price of provisions—an allowance in proportion to the number of his family was made out of the parish fund to every labourer who applied for relief. This allowance fluctuated with the price of the gallon loaf of second flour, and the scale was so adjusted as to return to each family the sum which in a given number of loaves would cost beyond the price, in years of ordinary abundance. This plan was conceived in a spirit of benevolence, but the readiness with which it was adopted in all parts of England clearly shows the want of sound views on the subject. Under the allowance-system the labourer received a part of his means of subsistence in the form of a parish-gift, and as the fund out of which it was provided was raised from the contributions of those who did not employ labourers as well as of those who did, their employers, being able in part to burden others with the payment for their labour, had a direct interestin perpetuating the system. Those who employed labourers looked upon the parish contribution as part of the fund out of which they were to be paid, and accordingly lowered their rate of wages. The labourers also looked on the fund as a source of wage. The consequence was, that the labourer looked to the parish, and as a matter of right, without any regard to his real wants; and he received the wages of his labour as only one and a secondary source of the means of subsistence. His character as a labourer became of less value, his value as a labourer being thus diminished under the combined operation of these two causes.”
In the olden time, as at present, it appears that the Irish figured conspicuously in the ranks of beggary. As is shown by the recent returns, there are haunting the metropolis nearly three mendicants hailing from the Emerald Isle to one of any other nation; and that it was so so long ago as the reign of King Charles II. the following proclamation will sufficiently attest:
“A Proclamation for the speedy rendering away of Irishe Beggars out of this Kingdome into their owne Countrie and for the Suppressing and Ordering of Rogues and Vagabonds according to the Laws.“Whereas this realme hath of late been pestered with great numbers of Irishe beggars who live here idly and dangerously, and are of ill example to the natives of this Kingdome; and whereas the multitude of English rogues and vagabonds doe much more abound than in former tymes—some wandering and begging under the colour of soldiers and mariners,others under the pretext of impotent persons, whereby they become a burden to the good people of the land—all which happeneth by the neglect of the due execution of the lawes formerly with great providence made for relief of the true poor and indigent and for the punishment of sturdy rogues and vagabonds: for the reforming thereof soe great a mischiefe, and to prevent the many dangers which will ensue by the neglect thereof; the King, by the advice of his Privy Council and of his judges, commands that all the laws and statutes now in force for the punishment of rogues and vagabonds be duly putt in execution; and more particularly that all Irishe beggars which now are in any part of this Kingdome, wandering or begging under what pretence soever, shall forthwith depart this realme and return to their owne countries and there abide.”
“A Proclamation for the speedy rendering away of Irishe Beggars out of this Kingdome into their owne Countrie and for the Suppressing and Ordering of Rogues and Vagabonds according to the Laws.
“Whereas this realme hath of late been pestered with great numbers of Irishe beggars who live here idly and dangerously, and are of ill example to the natives of this Kingdome; and whereas the multitude of English rogues and vagabonds doe much more abound than in former tymes—some wandering and begging under the colour of soldiers and mariners,others under the pretext of impotent persons, whereby they become a burden to the good people of the land—all which happeneth by the neglect of the due execution of the lawes formerly with great providence made for relief of the true poor and indigent and for the punishment of sturdy rogues and vagabonds: for the reforming thereof soe great a mischiefe, and to prevent the many dangers which will ensue by the neglect thereof; the King, by the advice of his Privy Council and of his judges, commands that all the laws and statutes now in force for the punishment of rogues and vagabonds be duly putt in execution; and more particularly that all Irishe beggars which now are in any part of this Kingdome, wandering or begging under what pretence soever, shall forthwith depart this realme and return to their owne countries and there abide.”
The authorities of Cumberland and Westmoreland appear to have hit on an expedient that has proved successful in diminishing the number of tramps that formerly infested those counties. A recently published report states: “In consequence of frequent and general complaints from the people of these two counties, as to the numerous robberies committed by tramping vagrants, it was determined, at the end of the year 1867, to enforce the Vagrant Act strictly. The result has been that, in the year ending at Michaelmas 1868, 524 persons were apprehended in the two counties for begging from house to house, and 374 of them were committed to prison. The effect has been, to a certain extent, like that which occurred in the time of the cattle-plague; when thepolice told the tramps at the frontier that they must either stop or must be disinfected, and they turned hack. The daily average number of tramps and vagrants in the two counties in the year ending at Michaelmas 1868 was only 150, making a total decrease of 6935 in the year; and various petty larcenies, burglaries, and other crimes decreased remarkably. The chief constable has reported that the course adopted has been attended with most beneficial results, in checking professional mendicancy and preventing crime; and he is persuaded that if the law were generally and uniformly carried into effect, tramping vagrancy, as a trade, would be very soon put an end to. He says that, as a rule, the condition of the hands will enable the police to judge between the professional tramp and the working man really travelling in search of work, and that all difficulty might be removed by requiring the latter to procure a certificate from the head of the police of the starting-place, which would protect him against apprehension, and which might also guarantee certain relief at appointed places along his route.”
The Effect of“The Society for the Suppression of Mendicity”—State Business carried out by Individual Enterprise—“The Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society”—The quiet Work of these Societies—Their Mode of Work—Curious Statistics—Singular Oscillations—Diabolical Swindling.
TheSociety for the Suppression of Mendicity has done more towards checking imposture, and bringing evildoers to punishment, than the Government itself, notwithstanding all the elaborate and expensive machinery at its command. Nor, by the way, is this a solitary instance of business peculiarly its own being shirked by the State, and handed over to be dealt with by the skill, energy, and perseverance of a few private individuals. A kindred association to that, the province of which is the better government of the beggars of London, is that which devotes its energies to the reclamation of returned convicts. Anyone at all acquainted with the matter is aware of the immense amount of lasting and substantial good that the “Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society” has accomplished. That theindividuals chiefly concerned—the returned convicts themselves—fully appreciate the advantages held out by the said Society is sufficiently proved by the fact, that out of 368 licence-holders discharged into the metropolis, 290 placed themselves in its hands. No doubt such arrangements do prove as convenient as economical as regards the Government; but whether it is just to inflict a responsibility of such magnitude on private individuals is another question; or whether the easement it confers is cheaply purchased by our rulers at the cost of so unmistakable a confession of their incapacity.
So quietly and unobtrusively do these self-constituted guardians of public morality perform the arduous duties they undertake, that it may be safely assumed not one person in a thousand is aware what their prime objects are, let alone the means by which they are accomplished. As regards the Mendicity Society, there can be no doubt what is the popular impression. It is commonly regarded as a sort of amateur detective association for the discovery of fraudulent begging,—a Society that has in its employ certain cunning individuals of the detested breed of “spies,” who earn their wages by lurking in shady places, and peeping over men’s shoulders, and covertly listening to their private conversation. The full extent of the Society’s usefulness, according to vulgar prejudice, is represented by the unfortunate “cadger” pounced on in the act of receiving alms, and carried before a magistrate to account for that enormous iniquity. People, however,who know no more of the Society than this, know only of the smallest and least important of its functions. It is a poor’s-relief association on an extensive scale. It has its labour-sheds for testing the genuineness of the mendicants that apply at the office, to say nothing of a real treadmill of its own. Moreover it proclaims its ability to offer suitable employment toeveryable-bodied mendicant referred to it. The following is the Society’s method of dealing. The plan of the institution is to provide subscribers with tickets, which are intended to be distributed to street-beggars only, and which will insure admission to the Society’s office, where the applicant is examined by the sitting or assistant manager, who directs such immediate relief as in his judgment may appear proper.
If the applicant appears deserving, and is without lodging, money sufficient to procure one for the night is given. In cases where the applicant appears to have an immediate claim on any London parish, the pauper is referred to the overseers of such parish. If, as in some cases, it is requisite for the applicant to return on a subsequent day, he is furnished with a return-ticket, which introduces him again to the office for further relief. In the mean time inquiry is made, if practicable, into the character of the pauper, by which the sitting manager is governed in awarding proper relief. Men are sent to the Society’s premises to chop wood, and women and children to the oakum-room. During the time they are employed, men receive eightpence, and women fourpence per day, for lodging-money, and twomeals, and one meal for each member of the family; and on Saturdays double allowance of money, with an extra meal to take home for each, that they may have no excuse for begging on Sunday. Each meal in winter consists of a pint of nutritious soup, and a sixth of a four-pound loaf of good bread; and in summer one quarter of a pound of cheese, and the same proportion of bread. At the end of a week, if they apply, the order for work may be renewed, until they have been employed a month, when the case is discharged, unless the sitting manager considers an extension of employment desirable; in which case it is laid before the committee, who renew the order for another month, or give such other relief as they think most likely to prevent the necessity of a recurrence to street-begging. In order to check repeated applications from the same persons, those who habitually resort to the refuges for the houseless, or the metropolitan workhouses, for lodging, and to the Society for food, if males, have to perform three hours’ work at the mill; if females, three hours’ work at oakum-picking, before food is given them; and the men may also, if practicable, have three days’ work at stone-breaking. Applicants of this description making more than six applications within one year are refused further relief, unless on investigation they are found deserving of assistance.
Persons who have not been six months in London are not considered objects of the charity; but food is given to persons passing through London in search of work, to assist them on their way. In the case ofmendicants incapable of labour, the amount of daily allowance is 6d.for a single man, 9d.for a man, his wife, and young child, and 1s.in any other case; but this allowance may be doubled on Saturday night, at the discretion of the sitting or assistant-manager. Labourers at the mill receive 6d.per day, and the wife and children of persons employed may receive a meal. The wives of men employed either at the mill or stone-yard may also have work, and receive wages, provided that their joint earnings do not exceed one shilling per day.
The Society’s “Report” recently issued shows the kind and the extent of the business transacted through its officials up to the close of the year 1867. It contains much that is interesting as well as instructive, and not a little that is puzzling. We are informed that within the year 644 vagrants were arrested and taken before a magistrate, and that of this number 311 were committed, and 333 discharged. From the commencement to the close of the year 1867, upwards of 10,000 cases of “casual” relief passed through the hands of the Society, as well as between 400 and 500 cases that are alluded to as “registered”—a term, it may be assumed, that distinguishes the ordinary casual case from that which demands investigation and private inquiry. Amongst the whole number, 44,347 meals were distributed, and a considerable sum of money and some clothes; it being no uncommon occurrence for the management to rig-out the ragged, hard-up unfortunate applying for relief, and to start him in the worldin a way that, if he has the intention, gives him a fair chance of recovering a decent position.
The most curious part of the affair, however, appears in the plain and simple tabulated statement that represents the yearly number of vagrants relieved and set to work, and consigned to proper punishment, since the time of the Mendicity Society’s first establishment. In the first year of the Society’s existence, when the scheme was new, and the vagrant crop dead-ripe for gathering, and the officers eager to get at their new and novel employment, 385 “sturdy beggars” were caught and sent to gaol. It is consoling to know that in the last year (1867) this number was decreased considerably, and that no more than 311 were sentenced. This may appear no vast reduction, but when we consider not only the enormously-increased population since 1818, and, what is of equal significance, the advance of intellect and cleverness and cunning amongst this as every other community doomed to live by the exercise of its wits, the result is one on which the country may be congratulated.
When, however, we come to regard the long column that at a glance reveals the figures that pertain to vagrant committals for fifty successive years, a decided damper is thrown on one’s hopes that the trade of the shiftless roving vagabond is becoming surely though slowly extinguished. As might be expected of a class so erratic in its movements, it would be difficult to measure them by any fixed standard; but one is scarcely prepared to discover the awful amount of uncertaintythat prevails as regards the going and coming of these impostor tramps, when there is a dearth of them, and when their swarming may be expected. They are like cholera or plague, and have their seasons of sloth, and again of general prevalence and virulence. The laws that govern the movements of the professional beggar are inscrutable. You may make war on him and thin his ranks, and prosecute him and persecute him, and by the end of the year be able to show in plain unmistakable figures that he is not half the formidable fellow he was last year; that you have blunted his sting and decreased his dimensions. You still prosecute the war of extermination, and next year you are in a position to reveal in black-and-white further glorious results. The thousand has become seven hundred, and again the seven hundred four. At this rate, ere two more years are elapsed, you may strip the rags from your last beggar’s back, and hang them on the city gate as a scarecrow and a caution against a revival of the detestable trade.
But alas for our delusive hopes! Come another year—that which showed our seven hundred beggars dwindled down to four—and without any apparent cause the enemy, crippled and more than half killed as it seemed, reappears on the stage hale and sound, and with years of life in him yet. The four hundred has grown to six. There are no means of accounting for it. Depression of trade and poverty widely prevailing will not do so, for such are times of prosperity and fattening with the professional beggar. When “giving” is the orderof the day, and benevolence, sickening at the sight of privation and distress that seems endless, shuts her eyes and bestows her gifts on all comers, then is the cadger’s harvest, then he may pursue his shameful avocation with comparative impunity. If we required evidence of this, it is furnished by the Society’s statistics. In 1865, which was an ordinarily fair year with the working man, the number of vagrant committals reached 586, while in the year following, when destitution prevailed so enormously, and the outcries of famine were so generously responded to through the length and breadth of the land, the number of begging impostors who got into trouble were only 372.
It will be as well, perhaps, that the reader should have set before him the figures for the various years precisely as they stand in the Society’s last issued Report. As will be seen, for some reason that is not explained, there are no returns for the four years 1830 to 1833 inclusive. Appended to the “committed vagrant list” is a record of the number of cases specially inquired into and “registered,” as well as a statement of the number of meals that were in each year distributed.
Years.
Cases registered.
Vagrants committed.
Meals given.
1818
3,284
385
16,827
1819
4,682
580
33,013
1820
4,546
359
46,407
1821
2,336
324
28,542
1822
2,235
287
22,232
1823
1,493
193
20,152
1824
1,441
195
25,396
1825
1,096
381
19,600
1826
833
300
22,972
1827
806
403
35,892
1828
1,284
786
21,066
1829
671
602
26,286
1830
848
—
105,488
1831
1,285
—
79,156
1832
1,040
—
73,315
1833
624
—
37,074
1834
1,226
652
30,513
1835
1,408
1,510
84,717
1836
946
1,004
68,134
1837
1,087
1,090
87,454
1838
1,041
873
155,348
1839
1,055
962
110,943
1840
706
752
113,502
1841
997
1,119
195,625
1842
1,223
1,306
128,914
1843
1,148
1,018
167,126
1844
1,184
937
174,229
1845
1,001
868
165,139
1846
980
778
148,569
1847
910
625
239,171
1848
1,161
979
148,661
1849
1,043
905
64,251
1850
787
570
94,106
1851
1,150
900
102,140
1852
658
607
67,985
1853
419
354
62,788
1854
332
326
52,212
1855
235
239
52,731
1856
325
293
49,806
1857
354
358
54,074
1858
329
298
43,836
1859
364
305
40,256
1860
430
350
42,912
1861
446
335
73,077
1862
542
411
47,458
1863
607
451
45,477
1864
413
370
55,265
1865
774
586
52,137
1866
481
372
38,131
1867
488
311
44,347
54,767
27,609
3,713,726
Assuming that the Society constantly employs the same number of officers, and that they are always maintained in the same condition of activity, it is difficult toaccount for the disparity displayed by the above-quoted figures. It would almost seem that the mendicity constabulary were gifted with a prescience of what was about to happen; that they know, by the barking of dogs or some other unmistakable token, when “the beggars are coming to town,” and sallied out, as fishermen do at the approach of herrings or mackerel, prepared, and fully determined to make a good haul.
It is a pity that, despite the good work it accomplishes, the Society for the Suppression of Mendicity should have weighty reasons for lamenting the falling-off of public support it has of late experienced. Nothing could be more promising than its launching. It took the field with a staff of eight constables only, and an income of 4,384l.; nor could it be said to disappoint the expectations of its patrons. In its first year of operation it prosecuted 385 professional vagrants. Its success progressed. After a lapse of twenty-five years, in 1842 we find it with an income of 6,576l.; and that prosperity had not dulled its energy appears from the fact that in the year last mentioned there occurred, in the deep waters where that slippery and voracious fish, the incorrigible beggar, lurks for prey, the splendid catch of over thirteen hundred. Encouraged by so fair a stroke of business, and the kindness and generosity of an appreciative public, the Society then added a new branch to their business—the begging-letter branch; which, it should be understood, did not originally come within the scope of its operations in any shape.
At the expiration of another quarter of a century, however, we find that, instead of an increase of income to the extent of one-third, as occurred in the first quarter of a century of the Society’s existence, its resources have fallen off to the extent of nearly one-half, as compared with the income of 1842.
This is as it should not be. As has been shown, feeding the deserving poor as well as punishing the inveterate vagrant comprises a prominent feature of the Society’s business, and this it is impossible to do without adequate funds. It might be supposed that the passing of the Houseless Poor Act would have diminished the number of applicants to this and other charitable societies; but there is a large class of persons temporarily thrown out of work to whom the casual wards of workhouses are useless, and who do not apply for assistance there. The number of this class who applied with tickets at the Society’s office during the past year was morethan double the number of such applicants in the preceding year, being, in 1866, 4,378; but in 1867, 10,532. Among these poor persons 44,347 meals, consisting of 7,389 four-pound loaves, upwards of four tons of cheese and 785 gallons of soup, have been distributed. In addition to this amount of food, 65l.7s., in small sums of money, has been given to those whose cases seemed suitable for such relief.
The apprehended cases were 644, as compared with 693 such cases in 1866; but though a diminished constabulary force was employed for part of the year, yet nearly as large a number of old offenders was committedby the magistrate, being 311 compared with 372 in 1866. The number of begging-letters referred to the office for inquiry during the past year was 2,019, being somewhat fewer than the return of such applications for the year 1866. Of the 2,019 letters 790 were from unknown applicants; 620 from persons previously known to the Society’s officials, but requiring a more recent investigation; and 609 from persons too well known to require any investigation.
The following cases that have occurred during the past year will show the mode in which the Society deals with the very different classes of applicants brought within the sphere of its operations:
“No. 617. F. J.—This young man, 24 years of age, came to the office with a subscriber’s ticket. He stated that he had been employed last as a bookkeeper at Manchester, and left that situation in April, and had since been in London seeking a situation, in which he had failed, and having no friends here, had become destitute. He was a well-spoken single man, and appeared to be truthful in his statements and anxious to return to Manchester, where he had relatives who would assist him. At the instance of the presiding manager some old clothes were given him, which improved his appearance, and thirty shillings were handed to a constable to pay his fare, which was done, and the balance was given to him. A few days after he wrote from Manchester a letter, in which he stated that he had every prospect of obtaining employment, and expressed much gratitude for what had been done for him at this office.”“No. 883. S. F.—This woman, 37 years of age, applied to the Society with a subscriber’s ticket, alleging her distress to have been caused by the desertion of her husband and her own inability to procure employment, owing to the want of decent clothing. She was sent to the Society’s oakum-room to work, and while there saved enough money to purchase several articles of wearing apparel. Inquiry was made; and it being found that her statements were true and her character good, a situation was found her, in which she still is, apparently giving satisfaction to her employers, and likely to obtain a respectable living for the future.”“No. 169,150. S. W. G.—This poor woman, the widow of a labourer, and aged 45 years, had done her best to bring up her family in credit, by keeping a small coal and greengrocery shop, making ginger-beer, &c. during the summer months; and several of the children were nearly providing for themselves, when she lost her sight, and was found in a state of distress. Her eldest daughter had been obliged to leave her situation to look to the house; but having a knowledge of the sewing-machine and a prospect of obtaining work at home, it was decided to recommend the case for liberal relief, in order that a machine might be obtained and the daughter thus enabled to assist in rearing the younger children at home, which object there is reason to hope has been accomplished.”“No. 54,494. C. T.,aliasS.—A well-dressed woman was apprehended on a warrant, charging her with obtaining charitable contributions by false pretences; she hadbeen known to the Society’s officers for years, and a number of complaints had been lodged at the office against her during that time; when apprehended on previous occasions no one could be found willing to appear against her. In the present instance she had applied to a lady residing at Rutland-gate for a loan of 2l.to enable her to take her brother to Scotland, whom she represented as having just left the Brompton Hospital very ill, and that she had been advised to get him to his native air, where they had friends. To strengthen her appeal she mentioned the names of two or three persons known to the lady to whom she was applying, and as having been sent by one of them to her; on the faith of the representations made she was assisted with 2l.6s.; but subsequent inquiry convinced this lady that the statement was false. At the time the prisoner was taken into custody she had 5l.8s.5½d.on her person; and being made acquainted with the charge confessed herself guilty of these offences, and offered to repay the money; but on the case being stated to the magistrate he sentenced her to three months’ imprisonment, and the money found in her possession to be applied to her maintenance while there.”“No. 42,064. T. B., with a number of aliases, was again apprehended by one of the Society’s constables; he had been known as a begging-letter impostor for upwards of twenty years, and during that period had been three times transported, and as many times liberated on tickets-of-leave. On this occasion (in companywith a woman whom he represented as a district visitor) he applied to a gentleman residing in Eaton-square, stating he was ‘Mr. Bond,’ one of the overseers of St. Marylebone parish, and gave in his card to that effect. On obtaining an interview, he said he and the lady with him had interested themselves on behalf of a ‘Mrs. Cole,’ a widow with six children, a native of Ledbury in Herefordshire, who wished to return home, where she would be able to obtain a living for herself and family, and he was seeking subscriptions to purchase the family a little clothing and funds to defray the expense of their transit. The gentleman knowing Ledbury well, and believing the prisoner’s statement to be true, gave him 10s.; but afterwards finding that he had been imposed on, obtained a warrant for his apprehension, and the case being clearly proved, he was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment; and the magistrate remarked that a more hardened criminal had never been brought before him, and that the Home Secretary should be applied to to cause him to finish his unexpired term of two years and three months.”“No. 54,889. M. W.—A woman with an infant in her arms was apprehended by one of the Society’s constables for endeavouring to obtain money by false pretences from a gentleman residing in Portland-place, by stating that her husband was at the Bournemouth Sanatorium, and produced a letter purporting to be from the medical officer of the institution, which was as follows: ‘National Sanatorium, Bournemouth, Hants.—The resident surgeon wishes to inform Mrs. W. that her husband, having ruptured a blood-vessel, is in a very precarious state. James W. is very desirous of seeing his wife, and begs she will come as early as possible.’ This note was signed as by the resident medical officer. She stated to the prosecutor that having no means of paying her railway fare, she had applied to him for assistance, as he had been kind to her husband on previous occasions. Being apprehended and detained for inquiries, she admitted the truth of the charge made against her; and the case being clearly proved, she was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment. The prisoner and her husband had been carrying on this system of imposition for a long time, but owing to parties declining to come forward to prosecute, had not previously been convicted.”
“No. 617. F. J.—This young man, 24 years of age, came to the office with a subscriber’s ticket. He stated that he had been employed last as a bookkeeper at Manchester, and left that situation in April, and had since been in London seeking a situation, in which he had failed, and having no friends here, had become destitute. He was a well-spoken single man, and appeared to be truthful in his statements and anxious to return to Manchester, where he had relatives who would assist him. At the instance of the presiding manager some old clothes were given him, which improved his appearance, and thirty shillings were handed to a constable to pay his fare, which was done, and the balance was given to him. A few days after he wrote from Manchester a letter, in which he stated that he had every prospect of obtaining employment, and expressed much gratitude for what had been done for him at this office.”
“No. 883. S. F.—This woman, 37 years of age, applied to the Society with a subscriber’s ticket, alleging her distress to have been caused by the desertion of her husband and her own inability to procure employment, owing to the want of decent clothing. She was sent to the Society’s oakum-room to work, and while there saved enough money to purchase several articles of wearing apparel. Inquiry was made; and it being found that her statements were true and her character good, a situation was found her, in which she still is, apparently giving satisfaction to her employers, and likely to obtain a respectable living for the future.”
“No. 169,150. S. W. G.—This poor woman, the widow of a labourer, and aged 45 years, had done her best to bring up her family in credit, by keeping a small coal and greengrocery shop, making ginger-beer, &c. during the summer months; and several of the children were nearly providing for themselves, when she lost her sight, and was found in a state of distress. Her eldest daughter had been obliged to leave her situation to look to the house; but having a knowledge of the sewing-machine and a prospect of obtaining work at home, it was decided to recommend the case for liberal relief, in order that a machine might be obtained and the daughter thus enabled to assist in rearing the younger children at home, which object there is reason to hope has been accomplished.”
“No. 54,494. C. T.,aliasS.—A well-dressed woman was apprehended on a warrant, charging her with obtaining charitable contributions by false pretences; she hadbeen known to the Society’s officers for years, and a number of complaints had been lodged at the office against her during that time; when apprehended on previous occasions no one could be found willing to appear against her. In the present instance she had applied to a lady residing at Rutland-gate for a loan of 2l.to enable her to take her brother to Scotland, whom she represented as having just left the Brompton Hospital very ill, and that she had been advised to get him to his native air, where they had friends. To strengthen her appeal she mentioned the names of two or three persons known to the lady to whom she was applying, and as having been sent by one of them to her; on the faith of the representations made she was assisted with 2l.6s.; but subsequent inquiry convinced this lady that the statement was false. At the time the prisoner was taken into custody she had 5l.8s.5½d.on her person; and being made acquainted with the charge confessed herself guilty of these offences, and offered to repay the money; but on the case being stated to the magistrate he sentenced her to three months’ imprisonment, and the money found in her possession to be applied to her maintenance while there.”
“No. 42,064. T. B., with a number of aliases, was again apprehended by one of the Society’s constables; he had been known as a begging-letter impostor for upwards of twenty years, and during that period had been three times transported, and as many times liberated on tickets-of-leave. On this occasion (in companywith a woman whom he represented as a district visitor) he applied to a gentleman residing in Eaton-square, stating he was ‘Mr. Bond,’ one of the overseers of St. Marylebone parish, and gave in his card to that effect. On obtaining an interview, he said he and the lady with him had interested themselves on behalf of a ‘Mrs. Cole,’ a widow with six children, a native of Ledbury in Herefordshire, who wished to return home, where she would be able to obtain a living for herself and family, and he was seeking subscriptions to purchase the family a little clothing and funds to defray the expense of their transit. The gentleman knowing Ledbury well, and believing the prisoner’s statement to be true, gave him 10s.; but afterwards finding that he had been imposed on, obtained a warrant for his apprehension, and the case being clearly proved, he was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment; and the magistrate remarked that a more hardened criminal had never been brought before him, and that the Home Secretary should be applied to to cause him to finish his unexpired term of two years and three months.”
“No. 54,889. M. W.—A woman with an infant in her arms was apprehended by one of the Society’s constables for endeavouring to obtain money by false pretences from a gentleman residing in Portland-place, by stating that her husband was at the Bournemouth Sanatorium, and produced a letter purporting to be from the medical officer of the institution, which was as follows: ‘National Sanatorium, Bournemouth, Hants.—The resident surgeon wishes to inform Mrs. W. that her husband, having ruptured a blood-vessel, is in a very precarious state. James W. is very desirous of seeing his wife, and begs she will come as early as possible.’ This note was signed as by the resident medical officer. She stated to the prosecutor that having no means of paying her railway fare, she had applied to him for assistance, as he had been kind to her husband on previous occasions. Being apprehended and detained for inquiries, she admitted the truth of the charge made against her; and the case being clearly proved, she was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment. The prisoner and her husband had been carrying on this system of imposition for a long time, but owing to parties declining to come forward to prosecute, had not previously been convicted.”
But there remains yet to notice one member of the begging-letter-writing fraternity, compared with whom all the rest are mere innocent and harmless scribblers. After an experience so long and varied, and so many conflicts sharp and severe with their natural enemies the officers of the “Society,” and so many exposures and defeats, it might be reasonably hoped that the professional beggar whose genius takes an epistolary turn must find his ingenuity well-nigh exhausted; but, as recent revelations have disclosed, the machinery brought against him for his suppression has but sharpened his wits and rendered him more formidable than ever. Although but recently discovered, it is hard tosay for how long a time this diabolical desire for swindling the unwary has existed. Very possibly, many a “dodge” of minor calibre has been invented and run the length of its tether, and died the death of all dodges, while the one in question has lurked in the dark, and grown fat and prospered.
It would be next to impossible for the imagination most fertile in wicked invention to conceive anything more devilish and mischievous, or an evil that might be perpetrated with less fear of detection. The mainspring of the pretty scheme is not to impose on the benevolence and credulity of the living, but to blast and vilify the character of the dead. To obliterate from the hearts of those who were nearest and dearest to him—the husband dead and buried—all kindly remembrance of him; to tear, as it were, from his poor honest body the white shroud in which tender hands had enveloped it, and show him to have lived and died a traitor, a hypocrite, and an impostor, false to that very last breath with which he bade his wife, his “only darling,” farewell; and this that some cold-blooded ruffian may extort from the wronged man’s duped indignant survivors a few miserable pounds or shillings, as the case may be.
The process by which the villany in question may be accomplished is much more simple than would at first appear. The prime condition of the impostor’s success is that he must reside at a long distance from those it is his intention to dupe. The swindler lives in France or Germany, sometimes as far away asAmerica. The first “move” is to look into the newspaper obituary notices for a likely victim. A gentleman who dies young, leaving a wife and a numerous family to bemoan their bitter bereavement, is not uncommonly the case fixed on. If, during his lifetime, he was a man who, from his station in life, must have been tolerably well known, so much the better. It is a woman who writes the letter. She writes of course to the individual as though not in the least suspecting that he is dead. The followinggenuinecopy of such a letter will, better than anything, illustrate the cold, cruel, subtle villany essential to the success of the “Dead-man’s lurk,” as in the profession it is styled:
“My ever-dearest Robert,—It is only after enduring the sickening disappointment that has attended my last three letters sent to the old address, that I venture to write to your private abode, in the fervent hope that this my desperate appeal to your oft-tried generosity may fall into no other hands but your own.“I cannot think that my boy’s father can have grown cold towards her whose whole life is devoted to him, who fled from home and friends, and took up her abode in a foreign land and amongst strangers, that her darling might not be troubled,—that hishomemight be peace. Alas! what ismyhome? But I will not upbraid you. Were I alone, I would be content to die rather than cause you a single pang of uneasiness; but, as my dear Robert knows, I amnotalone. God still spares our boy to me, though I much fear that the doctor’sprediction that he would get the better of his ailments when he had turned the age of ten will not be verified. Sometimes as I sit of nights—long, weary, thoughtful nights—watching my sick darling, and thinking of those old times of brief bitter sweetness, I wish that you could see him, so like your own dear self; but the thought is at once hushed, when I reflect on the pain it would cause you to contemplate our poorfatherlessboy. I am almost tempted to thank God that he cannot remain much longer on earth; but it is hard, cruelly hard, to see him suffer fromwantas well as from his painful malady. Do, for the sake of theold times, send me a little money, though only a few pounds. There is no other resource for us but the workhouse. At any rate, pray send me an answer to this, and relieve the dreadful suspense that haunts me.“P.S. As I have been, from reasons too painful to disclose to you, compelled to quit the lodgings in V.-street, please direct Post-office, —. Yours, ever true and faithful,Elizabeth—.”
“My ever-dearest Robert,—It is only after enduring the sickening disappointment that has attended my last three letters sent to the old address, that I venture to write to your private abode, in the fervent hope that this my desperate appeal to your oft-tried generosity may fall into no other hands but your own.
“I cannot think that my boy’s father can have grown cold towards her whose whole life is devoted to him, who fled from home and friends, and took up her abode in a foreign land and amongst strangers, that her darling might not be troubled,—that hishomemight be peace. Alas! what ismyhome? But I will not upbraid you. Were I alone, I would be content to die rather than cause you a single pang of uneasiness; but, as my dear Robert knows, I amnotalone. God still spares our boy to me, though I much fear that the doctor’sprediction that he would get the better of his ailments when he had turned the age of ten will not be verified. Sometimes as I sit of nights—long, weary, thoughtful nights—watching my sick darling, and thinking of those old times of brief bitter sweetness, I wish that you could see him, so like your own dear self; but the thought is at once hushed, when I reflect on the pain it would cause you to contemplate our poorfatherlessboy. I am almost tempted to thank God that he cannot remain much longer on earth; but it is hard, cruelly hard, to see him suffer fromwantas well as from his painful malady. Do, for the sake of theold times, send me a little money, though only a few pounds. There is no other resource for us but the workhouse. At any rate, pray send me an answer to this, and relieve the dreadful suspense that haunts me.
“P.S. As I have been, from reasons too painful to disclose to you, compelled to quit the lodgings in V.-street, please direct Post-office, —. Yours, ever true and faithful,
Elizabeth—.”
As it happened, the gentleman to whom this villanous epistle was addressed had, till within a few years of his demise, resided in a far-away quarter of the globe, and under such conditions as rendered a ten-years-ago intimacy with any English Elizabeth utterly impossible; but unfortunately his survivors were content to treat the attempted imposture with silent contempt, and a likely opportunity of bringing to proper punishment one of a gang of the most pestiferous orderof swindlers it is possible to conceive was lost. It was probably only theverypeculiar and exceptionally conclusive evidence that the letter could not apply to Mr. Robert —, that saved his friends from painful anxiety, and perhaps robbery. It is so much less troublesome to hush-up such a matter than to investigate it. To be sure, no one would have for a moment suspected, from the precise and proper behaviour of the man dead and gone, that he could ever have been guilty of such wickedness and folly; but it is so hard to read the human heart. Such things have happened; and now that one calls to mind—
That is the most poisonous part of it,—“now that one calls to mind!” What is easier than to call to mind, out of the ten thousand remembrances of a man whose society we have shared for twenty years or more, one or two acts that at the time were regarded as “strange whims,” but now, regarded in the light that the damnable letter sheds on them, appear as parts of the very business so unexpectedly brought to light? Perhaps the man was privately charitable, and in benevolent objects expended a portion of his income, without making mention of how, when, and where, or keeping any sort of ledger account. How his means so mysteriously dwindled in his hands was a puzzle even to his most intimate friends—nowit is apparent where the money went! But there, it is no use discussing that now; he has gone to answer for all his sins, and it is to be devoutly wished that God, in the infinite stretch of His mercy, will forgive him even this enormous sin.Meanwhile it will never do to have this base creature coming as a tramping beggar, perhaps with her boy, and knocking at the door, desperately determined on being cared for by the man who was the cause of her ruin and her banishment. Better to send her ten pounds, with a brief note to the effect that Mr. — is now dead, and it will be useless her troubling again. This is what didnothappen in the case quoted, and for the reasons given; but it might, and in very many cases it doubtless has happened; and it would be worth a whole year’s catch of common begging-letter impostors if the Society for the Suppression of Mendicity could trap a member of the “Dead-lurk” gang, and hand him over to the tender mercies of the law.
The Variety and Quality of the Imposture—Superior Accomplishments of the Modern Practitioner—The Recipe for Success—The Power of“Cheek”—“Chanting”and the“Shallow Lay”—Estimates of their Paying Value—The Art of touching Women’s Hearts—The Half-resentful Trick—The London“Cadger”—The Height of“The Famine Season.”
The“dodges” to which an individual resolved on a vagrant life will resort are almost past reckoning; and, as a natural consequence, the quality of the imposture in modern practice is superior to that which served to delude our grandfathers.
It can be no other. As civilisation advances, and our machinery for the suppression and detection of fraud improves, so, if he would live at all, must the professional impostor exert all the skill and cunning he is endowed with to adjust the balance at his end of the beam. It is with vagrancy as with thieving. If our present system of police had no more formidable adversaries to deal with than lived and robbed in the days of those famous fellows, Richard Turpin and Master Blueskin, Newgate might, in the courseof a few years, be converted into a temperance hotel, and our various convict establishments into vast industrial homes for the helplessly indigent. So, if the well-trained staff under the captaincy of that shrewd scenter of make-believe and humbug—Mr. Horsford—was called on to rout an old-fashioned army of sham blindness, and cripples whose stumps were fictitious; and of clumsy whining cadgers, who made filthy rags do duty for poverty, who painted horrid sores on their arms and legs, and employed a mild sort of whitewash to represent on their impudent faces the bloodless pallor of consumption,—we might reasonably hope to be rid of the whole community in a month.
It is scarcely too much to say, that the active and intelligent opposition brought to bear of late years against beggars has caused the trade to be taken up by a class of persons of quite superior accomplishments. I well recollect, on the memorable occasion of my passing a night in the society of tramps and beggars, hearing the matter discussed seriously and at length, and that by persons who, from their position in life, undoubtedly were those to whose opinion considerable weight attached. The conversation began by one young fellow, as he reclined on his hay-bed and puffed complacently at his short pipe, relating how he had “kidded” the workhouse authorities into the belief that he had not applied for relief at that casual-ward for at least a month previously, whereas he had been there for three successive nights. Of course this was a joke mightily enjoyed by his audience; and a friend, wagging his headin high admiration, expressed his wonder as to how the feat could be successfully accomplished. “How!” replied the audacious one; “why, with cheek, to be sure. Anything can be done if you’ve only got cheek enough. It’s no use puttin’ on a spurt of it, and knocking under soon as you’re tackled. Go in for it up to the heads of your — soul bolts. Put it on your face so gallus thick that the devil himself won’t see through it. Put it into your eyes and set the tears a-rollin’. Swear God’s truth; stop at nothing. They’re bound to believe you. There ain’t nothing else left for ’em. They think that there’s an end somewhere to lyin’ and cheekin’, and they’re — fools enough to think that they can tell when that end shows itself. Don’t let your cheek have any end to it.That’swhere you’re right, my lads.”
I have, at the risk of shocking the reader of delicate sensibilities, quoted at full the terms in which my ruffianly “casual” chamber-fellow delivered himself of his opinion as to the power of “cheek” illimitable, because from the same experienced source presently proceeded as handsome a tribute to the efficiency of the officers of the Mendicity Society as they could desire.
“What shall you do with yerself to-morrow?” one asked of another, who, weary of song and anecdote and blasphemy, preparatory to curling down for the night was yawning curses on the parochial authorities for supplying him with no warmer rug. “It ain’t much you can do anyhows atween the time when you finish at the crank and go out, till when you wants to come in agin. It feels like frost; if it is, I shall do a bit ofchanting, I think.” (“Chanting” is vagrant phraseology for street singing.)
“I’m with you,” replied his friend; “unless it’s cold enough to work the shaller; that’s the best game. ’Taint no use, though, without its perishin’ cold; that’s the wust on it.”
(It may be here mentioned that the “shaller,” or more properly “shallow” dodge, is for a beggar to make capital of his rags and a disgusting condition of semi-nudity; to expose his shoulders and his knees and his shirtless chest, pinched and blue with cold. A pouncing of the exposed parts with common powder-blue is found to heighten the frost-bitten effect, and to excite the compassion of the charitable.)
“There you are wrong,” broke in the advocate of “cheek;” “that isn’t the wust of it. The wust of it is, that there’s nobestof it. It don’t matter what you try; all games is a-growing stale as last week’s tommy” (bread).
“It’s ’cos people get so gallus ’ard-’arted, that’s wot it is,” remarked with a grin a young gentleman who shared the bed of the ‘cheeky’ one.
“No, that ain’t it, either; people are as soft-’arted and as green as ever they was; and so they would shell-out like they used to do, only for them —” (something too dreadful for printing) “lurchers of the S’ciety. It’s all them. It ain’t the reg’lar p’lice. They’re above beggars, ’cept when they’re set on. It’s them Mendikent coves, wot gets their livin’ by pokin’ and pryin’ arter every cove like us whenever they sees him in the street.They gives the public the ‘office’” (information), “and the public believes ’em, bust ’em!”
These observations evidently set the “cheeky” one thinking on times past; for he presently took up the subject again.
“Things ain’t wot they was one time. Talkin’ about the shallow lay; Lor’ bless yer, you should have knowed what it was no longer ago than when I was a kid, and used to go out with my old woman. Ah, it was summat to have winter then! I’ve heerd my old woman say often that she’d warrant to make enough to live on all the rest of the year, if she only had three months’ good stiff frost. I recollect the time when you couldn’t go a dozen yards without hearing the flying up of a window or the opening of a door, and there was somebody a-beckoning of you to give you grub or coppers. It was the grub that beat us.”
“How d’ye mean? Didn’t you get enough of it?”
“Hark at him! enough of it! We got a thunderin’ sight too much of it. A little of it was all very well, ’specially if it was a handy-sized meaty bone, wot you could relish with a pint of beer when you felt peckish; but, bust ’em, they used to overdo it. It don’t look well, don’t you know, to carry a bag or anythink, when you are on the shallow lay. It looks as though you was a ‘reg’lar,’ and that don’t ‘act.’ The old gal used to stow a whacking lot in a big pocket she had in her petticut, and I used to put away a ‘dollop’ in the busum of my shirt, which it was tied round the waist-bag hid underneath my trousers for the purpose. But, Lor’ bless yer,sometimes the blessed trade would go that aggravatin’ that we would both find ourselves loaded-up in no time. Lor, how my old woman would swear about the grub sometimes! It used to make me larf; it was a reg’lar pantermime. She’d be reg’lar weighed down, and me stuffed so jolly full that I daren’t so much as shiver even, lest a lump of tommy or meat should tumble out in front, and all the while we’d be pattering about us not having eat a mouthful since the day afore yesterday. Then somebody ’ud beckon us; and p’r’aps it was a servant-gal, with enough in a dish for a man and his dawg. And the old woman ’bliged to curtchy and look pleased! They ought to have heard her! ‘D— and b— ’em!’ my old gal used to say between her teeth, ‘I wish they had them broken wittles stuffed down their busted throats; why the — can’t they give us it in coppers!’ But she couldn’t say that to them, don’t yer know; she had to put on a grateful mug, and say, ‘Gord bless yer, my dear!’ to the gal, as though, if it hadn’t been for that lot of grub turning up that blessed minute, she must have dropped down dead of starvation.”
“But scran fetched its price in them times, didn’t it, Billy? There was drums where you might sell it long afore your time, don’t you know, Billy?”
“Course I know. It fetched its price, cert’inly, when you could get away to sell it; but what I’m speaking of is the inconwenience of it. We didn’t want no grub, don’t you see; it was the sp’iling of us. S’pose now we was served like what I just told you;got reg’lar loaded-up when we was a couple of miles away. What was we to do? We couldn’t go on a swearin’ as how we was starvin’ with wittles bustin’ out of us all round. We was ’bliged to shoot the load afore we could begin ag’in. Sometimes we had to do the ‘long trot’” (go home) “with it, and so sp’iled a whole arternoon. If we got a chance, we shot it down a gully, or in a dunghole in a mews. Anythink to get rid of it, don’t you see. I should like to have just now the rattlin’ lot of grub we’ve been ’bliged to get rid of in that there way.”
Despite the decline of the trade of “shallowing,” however, as the reader must have observed, it is one that is regarded as worth resorting to in “season.” A more favourite “dodge” at the present is to appear before the public not in rags and tatters and with patches of naked flesh disgustingly visible, but in sound thorough labour-stained attire, and affect the style either of the ashamed unaccustomed beggar or that of the honest working mechanic, who, desperately driven by stress of poverty, shapes his loud-mouthed appeal in tones of indignant remonstrance that rich and prosperous England should permit a man such as he is to be reduced to the uncomfortable plight in which you now behold him. He is a solitary cadger, and gets himself up in a manner so artful, that it is only when you pay attention to his “speech,” and find that he repeats precisely the same words over and over again, that you begin to have a suspicion that he is not exactly what he seems. Like the “shallow cove,” he prefers a very coldor a very wet and miserable day. He does not enter a street walking in the middle of the road, as the common “chanting” or “pattering” beggar does; he walks on the pavement with slow and hesitating gait, and at frequent intervals casts hasty and nervous glances behind him, as though fearful that he is watched or followed. Possibly he is so afraid. At all events, should a policeman by rare chance steal round the corner, his steps will increase in length, and he will pass out of the street just as an ordinary pedestrian might; but should he be free to play his “little game,” he will set about it as follows.
After looking about him several times, he proceeds to make himself remarkable to any person or persons who may happen to be gazing streetward from the window. He will stand suddenly still, and button-up his coat as though determined on some desperate action. With a loud-sounding “hem!” he clears his throat and advances towards the roadway; but, alas, before his feet touch the pavement’s boundary his courage falters, and he dashes his hand across his eyes and shakes his head, in a manner that at once conveys to beholders the impression that, much as he desires it, he is unequal to the performance of what a moment ago he contemplated and thought himself strong enough to perform. At least, if this is not made manifest to the beholder, the actor has missed his object. On he goes again just a few faltering steps—a very few—and then he cries “hem!” again, louder and fiercer than before, and dashes into the middle of the road.
If you had pushed him there, or set your dog at him and he had bounded there to escape its fangs, the injured look he casts up at you could not be surpassed. He says not a word for a full minute; he simply folds his arms sternly and glares at you up at the window, as though he would say not so much “What do you think of me standing here?” as “What do you think of yourself, after having driven me to do a thing so ignominious and shameful?” These necessary preliminaries accomplished, in a loud impassioned voice he opens:
“What!”—(a pause of some seconds’ duration)—“What! will a man not do to drive away from his door theWOLFthat assails the wife of his bosom and his innocent horfspring?”
He appears to await an answer to this, as though it were a solemn conundrum; though from the moody contraction of his eyebrows and the momentary scorn that wrinkles the corners of his mouth as he still gazes all round at the windows, he seems to be aware that it is one which on account of your complete ignorance of such matters you will never guess.
“Doubtless, my friends, you are astonished to see me in this humiliating attitude, addressing you like a common beggar. But what else am I? What is the man who implores you to spare him from your plenty—ay, and your luxury—apennyto save from starving those that are dearer to him than hisHEART’Sblood, but a beggar? But, my friends, a man may be a beggar, and still be not ashamed.Iam not ashamed. I might be, if it was for myself that I asked your charity; but Iwould not do so. I would die sooner than I would stoop to do it; but what is aHUSBANDto do, when he has a wife weak and ill from her confinement; who is dying byHINCHESfor that nourishment that I have not to give her?” (Here a violent blowing of his nose on a clean cotton pocket-handkerchief.) “What, my dear friends, is aFATHERto do, when his little ones cry to him forBREAD? Should he feel ashamed to beg for them? Ask yourselves that question, you who have good warm fires and all that the heart can desire. I amnotashamed. It is a desperate man’s last resource; and I ask you again, as my fellow-creatures, will you turn away from me and deny me the small assistance I beg of you?”
Generally he is successful. Women—young mothers and old mothers alike—find it hard to resist the artless allusion to the wife, “weak and ill from her confinement,” and the amazingly well-acted sudden outburst of emotion that the actor is so anxious to conceal under cover of blowing his nose. To be sure he is not a prepossessing person, and his style of appeal is somewhat coarse and violent; but that stamps it, in the eyes of the unwary, as genuine. If he “knew the trade,” he would know that he should be meek and insinuating, not loud-mouthed and peremptory. In short, his behaviour is exactly that of a man—a hard-working fellow when he has it to do—driven to desperation, and with a determination to raise enough to buy a loaf somehow. It would be a monstrous thing to refuse such a poor fellow because of his blunt inapt way of asking; andso the halfpence come showering down. It is several months ago since I last saw this worthy; but I have no doubt that his wife has not yet recovered from her confinement, that his children are yet crying for bread, and that he is still not ashamed to solicit public charity to save them from starving.