Victorian London - Crime - Prostitution - London Labour and the
London Poor - Introduction
London Labour and the London Poor
A
Cyclopædia of the Condition and Earnings of Those That Will Work, Those That
Cannot Work, and Those That Will Not Work.
By Henry Mayhew.
London:
Griffin, Bohn, and Company, Stationers' Hall Court. 1862.
[digitised copy kindly provided by Les
Butler, ed.]
[... back to index]
Introduction
The liberty of the subject is very
jealously guarded in England, and so tenacious are the people of their rights
and privileges that the legislature has not dared to infringe them, even for
what by many would be considered a just and meritorious purpose. Neither are
the magistracy or the police allowed to enter improper or disorderly houses,
unless to suppress disturbances that would require their presence in the most
respectable mansion in the land, if the aforesaid disturbances were committed
within their precincts. Until very lately the police had not the power of
arresting those traders who earned an infamous livelihood by selling immoral
books and obscene prints. It is to the late Lord Chancellor Campbell that we
owe this salutary reform, under whose meritorious exertions the disgraceful
trade of Holywell Street and kindred districts has received a blow from which
it will never again rally. If the neighbours choose to complain before a
magistrate of a disorderly house, and are willing to undertake the labour,
annoyance, and expense of a criminal indictment, it is probable that their
exertions may in time have the desired effect; but there is no summary
conviction, as in some continental cities whose condition we have studied in
another portion of this work.
We rely for certain facts, statistics,
&c., upon Reports of the Society for the Suppression of Vice; information
furnished by the Metropolitan Police; Reports of the Society for the
Prevention of Juvenile Prostitution; Returns of the Registrar-General; Ryan,
Duchatelet, M. les Docteurs G. Richelot, Léon Faucher, Talbot, Acton,
&c., &c.; and figures, information, facts, &c., supplied from
various quarters: and lastly, on our own researches and investigations
To show how difficult it is to give
from any data at present before the public anything like a correct estimate of
the number of prostitutes in London, we may mention (extracting from the work
of Dr. Ryan) that while the Bishop of Exeter asserted the number of
prostitutes in London to be 80,000, the City Police stated to Dr. Ryan that it
did not exceed 7000 to 8000. About the year 1793 Mr. Colquhoun, a police
magistrate, concluded, after tedious investigations, that there were 50,000
prostitutes in this metropolis. At that period the population was one million,
and as it is now more than double we may form some idea of the extensive
ramifications of this insidious vice.
In the year 1802, when immorality had
spread more or less all over Europe, owing to the demoralizing effects of the
French Revolution, a society was formed, called "The Society for the
Suppression of Vice," of which its secretary, Mr. Wilberforce, thus
speaks: -
The particular objects to which the
attention of this Society is directed are as follow, viz.-
1.
The prevention of the profanation of the Lord's day.
2. Blasphemous publications.
3. Obscene books, prints, etc.
4. Disorderly houses.
5. Fortunetellers.
When speaking of the third division a
report of the Society says-
In consequence of the renewed
intercourse with the Continent, incidental to the restoration of peace, there
has been a great influx into the country of the most obscene articles of every
description, as may be inferred from the exhibition of indecent snuff-boxes in
the shop windows of tobacconists. These circumstances having tended to a
revival of this trade the Society have had occasion within the last twelve
months to resort to five prosecutions, which have greatly tended to the
removal of that indecent display by which the public eye has of late been too
much offended.
Before the dissolution of the Bristol
Society for the Suppression of Vice, its secretary, Mr. Birtle, wrote (1808)
to London the following letter:-
Sir, - The Bristol Society for the
Suppression of Vice being about to dissolve, and the agents before employed
having moved very heavily, I took my horse and rode to Stapleton prison to
inquire into the facts contained in your letter. Inclosed are some of the
drawings which I purchased in what they call their market, without the least
privacy on their part or mine. They wished to intrude on me a variety of
devices in bone and wood of the most obscene kind, particularly those
representing a crime "inter Christianos non nominandum," which they
termed the new fashion. I purchased a few, but they are too bulky for a
letter. This market is held before the door of the turnkey every day between
the hours of ten and twelve.
At the present day the police wage an
internecine war with these people, who generally go about from fair to fair to
sell indecent images, mostly imported from France; but this traffic is very
much on the decline, if it is not altogether extinguished.
The reports of the Society for the
Suppression of Vice are highly interesting, and may be obtained gratis on
application at the Society's chambers.
Another Society was instituted in May
1835, called "The London Society for the Protection of Young Females, and
Prevention of Juvenile Prostitution. We extract a few passages from its
opening address.
The committee cannot avoid referring
to the present dreadfully immoral state of the British metropolis. No one can
pass through the streets of London without being struck with the awfully
depraved condition of a certain class of the youth of both sexes at this
period (1835). Nor is it too much to say that in London crime has arrived at a
frightful magnitude; nay, it is asserted that nowhere does it exist to such an
extent as in this highly-favoured city. Schools for the instruction of youth
in every species of theft and immorality are here established. It has been
proved that 400 individuals procure a livelihood by trepanning females from
eleven to fifteen years of age for the purposes of prostitution. Every art is
practiced, every scheme is devised, to effect this object, and when an
innocent child appears in the streets without a protector, she is insidiously
watched by one of those merciless wretches and decoyed under some plausible
pretext to an abode of infamy and degradation. No sooner is the unsuspecting
helpless one within their grasp than, by a preconcerted measure, she becomes a
victim to their inhuman designs. She is stripped of the apparel with which
parental care or friendly solicitude had clothed her, and then, decked with
the gaudy trappings of her shame, she is compelled to walk the streets, and in
her turn, while producing to her master or mistress the wages of her
prostitution, becomes the ensnarer of the youth of the other sex. After this
it is useless to attempt to return to the path of virtue or honour, for she is
then watched with the greatest vigilance, and should she attempt to escape
from the clutches of her seducer she is threatened with instant punishment,
and often barbarously treated. Thus situated she becomes reckless, and
careless of her future course. It rarely occurs that one so young escapes
contamination; and it is a fact that numbers of these youthful victims imbibe
disease within a week or two of their seduction. They are then sent to one of
the hospitals under a fictitious name by their keepers, or unfeelingly turned
into the streets to perish; and it is not an uncommon circumstance that within
the short space of a few weeks the bloom of health, of beauty, and of
innocence gives place to the sallow hue of disease, of despair, and of death.
This fact will be appreciated when it
is known that in three of the largest hospitals in London within the last
eight years (that is to say, from 1827 to 1835), there have not been less than
2700 cases of disease arising from this cause in children from eleven to
sixteen years of age.
Léon Faucher, commenting on this,
exclaims with astonishment, mixed with indignation, "Deux mille sept
cents enfants visités par cette horrible peste avant l'âge de la puberté!
Quel spectacle que celuilà pour un peuple qui a des entrailles! Et comment éprouver
assez de pitié pour les victimes, assez d'indignation contre les bourreaux!"
A Frenchman, looking at the way in which his own illustrious country is
governed, would very naturally exclaim against the authorities for not taking
steps to prevent so much crime and misery, but he forgets that although a
system may work well in France, it is no criterion of its excellent working
among a nation totally dissimilar in their habits and disposition to his own.
All French writers have the
profoundest horror of our social economics. MM. Duchatelet, Richelot and Léon
Faucher, whom we have just quoted, all unite in condemning our system of blind
and wilful toleration. They do not understand the temper of the nation, which
would never allow the State to legislate upon this subject. But, nevertheless,
we must confess that the profligacy of the metropolis of England, if not so
patent and palpable as that of some continental cities we have had occasion to
refer to, is perhaps as deeply rooted, and as impossible to eradicate. The
legislature, by refusing to interfere, have tacitly declared the existence of
prostitutes to be a necessary evil, the suppression of which would produce
alarming and disastrous effects upon the country at large. When any case more
than usually flagrant occurs it falls within the jurisdiction of the Society
for the Suppression of Vice, and the law is careful to punish anything that
can be construed into a misdemeanour or a felony. In cold climates, as in hot
climates, we have shown that the passions are the main agents in producing the
class of women that we have under consideration, but in temperate zones the
animal instinct is less difficult to bridle and seldom leads the female to
abandon herself to the other sex. It is a vulgar error, and a popular
delusion, that the life of a prostitute is as revolting to herself, as it
appears to the moralist sternly lamenting over the condition of the fallen;
but, on the contrary, investigation and sedulous scrutiny lead us to a very
different conclusion. Authors gifted with vivid imaginations love to portray
the misery that is brought upon an innocent and confiding girl by the perfidy
and desertion of her seducer. The pulpit too frequently echoes to clerical
denunciation and evangelical horror, until those unacquainted with the actual
facts tremble at the fate of those whose terrible lot they are taught rather
to shudder at than commiserate. Women who in youth have lost their virtue,
often contrive to retain their reputation; and even when this is not the case,
frequently amalgamate imperceptibly with the purer portion of the population
and become excellent members of the community. The love of woman is usually
pure and elevated. But when she devotes her affections to a man who realizes
her ideal, she does not hesitate to sacrifice all she holds dear, for his
gratification, ignoring her own interest and her own inclination. Actuated by
a noble abnegation of self, she derives a melancholy pleasure from the
knowledge that she has utterly given up all she had formerly so zealously
guarded, and she feels that her love has reached its grand climacteric, when,
without the slightest pruriency of imagination to urge her on to the
consummation, without the remotest vestige of libidinous desire to prompt her
to self-immolation, without a shadow of meretricious feeling lurking within
her, she abandons her person beyond redemption to the idol. she has set up in
the highest place in her soul. This heroic martyrdom is one of the causes,
though perhaps not the primary or most frequently occurring, of the stream of
immorality that insidiously permeates our social system. The greatest, and one
equally difficult to combat, is the low rate of wages that the female
industrial classes of this great city receive, in return for the most arduous
and wearisome labour. Innumerable cases of prostitution through want, solely
and absolutely, are constantly occurring, and this will not be wondered at
when it is remembered that 105 women in England and Wales are born to every
100 males, which number is further augmented by the dangers to which men are
exposed by their avocations, and also in martial service by sea and land.
Again, so great are the inducements held out by men of lax morality and loose
principles that procuresses find entrapping girls into their abodes a most
lucrative and profitable trade. Some are even brought up from their earliest
infancy by their pseudopro- tectors with the full intention that they shall
embark in the infamous traffic as soon as their age will permit them to do so
remuneratively. A revolting and horrible case exemplifying the truth of this
statement came under our notice some short time back. We were examining a
girl, who gave the following replies to the questions put to her.
Scene In The Gardens Of - "Closerie Des Lilas"
Paris
My name is Ellen, I have no other.
Yes, I sometimes call myself by various names, but rarely keep to one longer
than a month or two. I was never baptized that I know of; I don't know much
about religion, though I think I know the difference between right and wrong.
I certainly think it is wrong to live as I am now doing. I often think of it
in secret, and cry over it, but what can I do? I was brought up in the country
and allowed to run about with some other children. We were not taught
anything, not even to read or write; twice I saw a gentleman who came down to
the farm, and he kissed me and told me to be a good girl. Yes, I remember
these things very well. I was about eleven the last time he came, and two
years after I was sent up to town, carefully dressed and placed in a large
drawing-room. After I had been there some time a gentleman came in with the
person I had been sent to, and I directly recognized him as the one I had seen
in the country. For the first time in my life I glanced at a looking-glass
that hung on the wall, they being things we never saw in the country, and I
thought the gentleman had changed his place and was standing before me, we
were so alike. I then looked at him steadily for a few moments, and at last
took his hand. He said something to me which I don't remember, and which I did
not reply to. I asked him, when he had finished speaking, if he was my father.
I don't know why I asked him. He seemed confused, and the lady of the house
poured out some wine and gave me, after that I don't know what happened.
This may be a case of rare occurrence,
but it is not so morally impossible as at first it appears.
In 1857, according to the best
authorities, there were 8600 prostitutes known to the police, but this is far
from being even an approximate return of the number of loose women in the
metropolis. It scarcely does more than record the circulating harlotry of the
Haymarket and Regent Street. Their actual numerical strength is very difficult
to compute, for there is an amount of oscillatory prostitution it is easy to
imagine, but impossible to substantiate. One of the peculiarities of this
class is their remarkable freedom from disease. They are in the generality of
cases notorious for their mental and physical elasticity. Syphilis is rarely
fatal. It is an entirely distinct race that suffer from the ravages of the
insidious diseases that the licence given to the passions and promiscuous
intercourse engender. Young girls, innocent and inexperienced, whose devotion
has not yet bereft them of their innate modesty and sense of shame, will allow
their systems to be so shocked, and their constitutions so impaired, before
the aid of the surgeon is sought for, that when he does arrive his assistance
is almost useless.
We have before stated (p. 211) the
assumed number of prostitutes in London to be about 80,000, and large as this
total may appear, it is not improbable that it is below the reality rather
than above it. One thing is certain - if it be an exaggerated statement - that
the real number is swollen every succeeding year, for prostitution is an
inevitable attendant upon extended civilization and increased population.
We divide prostitutes into three
classes. First, those women who are kept by men of independent means;
secondly, those women who live in apartments, and maintain themselves by the
produce of their vagrant amours; and thirdly, those who dwell in brothels.
The state of the first of these is the
nearest approximation to the holy state of marriage, and finds numerous
defenders and supporters. These have their suburban villas, their carriages,
horses, and sometimes a box at the opera. Their equipages are to be seen in
the park, and occasionally through the influence of their aristocratic friends
they succeed in obtaining vouchers for the most exclusive patrician balls.
Houses in which prostitutes lodge are
those in which one or two prostitutes occupy private apartments; in most cases
with the connivance of the proprietor. These generally resort to night-houses,
where they have a greater chance of meeting with customers than they would
have were they to perambulate the streets.
Brothels are houses where speculators
board, dress, and feed women, living upon the farm of their persons. Under
this head we must include introducing houses, where the women do not reside,
but merely use the house as a place of resort in the daytime. Married women,
imitating the custom of Messalina, whom Juvenal so vividly describes in his
Satires, not uncommonly make use of these places. A Frenchwoman in the habit
of frequenting a notorious house in James Street, Haymarket, said that she
came to town four or five times in the week for the purpose of obtaining money
by the prostitution of her body. She loved her husband, but he was unable to
find any respectable employment, and were she not to supply him with the
necessary funds for their household expenditure they would sink into a state
of destitution, and anything, she added, with simplicity, was better than
that. Of course her husband connived at what she did. He came to fetch her
home every evening about ten o'clock. She had no children. She didn't wish to
have any.
It must not be supposed that if some,
perhaps a majority of them, eventually become comparatively respectable, and
merge into the ocean of propriety, there are not a vast number whose lives
afford matter for the most touching tragedies, - whose melancholy existence is
one continual struggle for the actual necessaries of life, the occasional
absence of which entails upon them a condition of intermittent starvation. A
woman who has fallen like a star from heaven, may flash like a meteor in a
lower sphere, but only with a transitory splendour. In time her orbit
contracts, and the improvidence that has been her leading characteristic
through life now trebles and quadruples the misery she experiences. To drown
reflection she rushes to the gin palace, and there completes the work that she
had already commenced so inauspiciously. The passion for dress, that
distinguished her in common with her sex in former days, subsides into a
craving for meretricious tawdry, and the bloom of health is superseded by
ruinous and poisonous French compounds and destructive cosmetics. A hospital
surgeon gave us the following description of the death of a French lorette,
who at a very juvenile age had been entrapped and imported into this country.
She had, according to her own statement, been born in one of the southern
departments. When she was fourteen years old, the agent of some English
speculator in human beings came into their neighbourhood and proposed that
Anille should leave her native country and proceed to England, where he said
there was a great demand for female domestic labour, which was much better
paid for on the other side of the Channel. The proposition was entertained by
the parents, and eagerly embraced by the girl herself, who soon afterwards, in
company with several other girls, all deluded in a similar manner, were
leaving the shores of their native country for a doubtful future in one with
the language of which they were not even remotely acquainted. On their arrival
their ruin was soon effected, and for some years they continued to enrich the
proprietors of the house in which they resided, all the time remitting small
sums to their families abroad, who were unwittingly and involuntarily existing
upon the proceeds of their daughters' dishonour, and rejoicing in such
unexpected success. After a while Anille was sent adrift to manage for
herself. Naturally of a refined and sensitive disposition, she felt her
position keenly, which induced a sadness almost amounting to hypochondria to
steal over her, and although very pretty, she found this a great obstacle in
the way of her success. She knew not how to simulate the hollow laugh or the
reckless smile of her more volatile companions, and her mind became more
diseased day by day, until she found it impracticable to think of endeavouring
to hurl off the morbidity that had taken possession of her very soul. At last
she fell a victim to a contagious disorder, the neglect of which ultimately
necessitated her removal to the hospital. When there, she was found to be
incurable; an operation was performed upon her but without success. She bore
her illness with childish impatience, continually wishing for the end, and
often imploring me with tearful eyes by the intervention of science to put an
end to her misery. One afternoon, as usual, I came to see her. She exclaimed
the moment she perceived me, I am cheerful to-day. May I not recover; I suffer
no pain. But her looks belied her words; her features were frightfully haggard
and worn; her eyes, dry and bloodshot, had almost disappeared in their
sockets, and her general appearance denoted the approach of him she had been
so constantly invoking. Unwrapping some bandages, I proceeded to examine her,
when an extraordinary change came over her, and I knew that her dissolution
was not far distant. Her mind wandered, and she spoke wildly and excitedly in
her own language. After a while she exclaimed, "J'ignore où je suis.
C'en est fait." An expression of intense suffering contracted her
emaciated features. "Je n'en puis plus," she cried, and adding,
after a slight pause, in a plaintive voice, "Je me meurs," her soul
glided impalpably away, and she was a corpse. As a pendant to these remarks, I
extract an expressive passage from an old book.
"There are also women (like birds
of passage) of a migratory nature, who remove after a certain time from St.
James's and Marylebone end of the town to Covent Garden, then to the Strand,
and from thence to St. Giles and Wapping; from which latter place they
frequently migrate much further, even to New South Wales. Some few return in
seven years, some in fourteen, and some not at all. During their stay here,
like birds they make their nests upon feathers, some higher, some lower than
others. At first they generally build them on the first-floor, afterwards on
the second, and then up in the cock-loft and garrets, from whence they
generally take to the open air, and become ambulatory and noctivagous, and as
their price grows less, their wandering increases, when many perish from the
inclemency of the weather, and others take their flight abroad."
