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SINKS OF LONDON LAID OPEN
A
Pocket Companion for the Uninitiated
TO WHICH IS ADDED A
MODERN FLASH DICTIONARY
CONTAINING ALL THE
CANT WORDS, SLANG TERMS, AND FLASH PHRASES
NOW IN VOGUE
WITH
A LIST OF THE SIXTY ORDERS OF
PRIME COVES
The whole Forming a True Picture of London Life,
Cadging Made Easy, the He-She Man, Doings
of the Modern, Greeks, Snooking Kens De-
picted, the Common Lodging-House
Gallants, Lessons to Lovers of
Dice, the Gaming Table,
etc.
EMBELLISHED WITH HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK
London
PUBLISHED BY J.DUNCOMBE
1848
[-3-]
THE
Dens of London
EXPOSED
COMMON
LODGING HOUSES, CADGERS,
&c., &c.
THESE two subjects are, perhaps now the only ones remaining, in what is
termed the "walks of life," of which a correct description has not yet
been given. All the old topics, such as the beauties of the country, and the
ancient stories of love and heroism, which have afforded so much employment to
the pencil, the muse, and the worker-up of novels, have long been considered as
the beaten track ; and the relaters of fiction, at least those who lay claim to
any thing like originality, have been fain to leave the romantic path, with its
old castles and wondrous deeds, and so forth, and seek for heroes behind a
counter, amidst the common-place details of busi-[-4-]ness, and for scenes amongst
the intricate windings of lanes and alleys. in short, novelty is the grand charm
for this novel-writing age.
Independent of the hosts of Military and Naval Sketches of
Mr. Such-a-one," "the Author of So-and So's Reminiscences,
&c.," with the usual abundance of matter, that daily crowd from the
press, we may notice amongst the really useful works that have lately appeared,
the "Old Bailey Experience," "Essays on the Condition of the
People," "the Dishonest Practices of Household Servants," and
"the Machinery of Crime in England, or the Connection between the Thieves
and Flash Houses;'' but, valuable as these articles are, and they are certainly
of some importance to society, has there any one, we might ask, ever entered
into the Common Lodging House, -the Vagabond's Home, - a place that abounds in
character and crime ? The only information which we have had in these dens of
poverty and vice, has been merely through the Police Reports, when some
unfortunate defaulter had been taken out of one of those skulking-holes. On such
occasions we are told, amongst the usual remarks, that the accommodation in
those houses were exceedingly cheap, and that the lodgers herded together
in-discriminately, &c. ; but how such houses were really con-[-5-]ducted, and
of the manners and characters of most of the people who frequented them, the
public may be said to be almost in perfect ignorance. In like manner with that
fraternity called "Cadgers," our knowledge has been equally limited.
No correct account has ever yet been given of this idle, but cunning class of
the community. All that we have been told concerning them, is, to use the common
phrase, but mere hearsay. We remember reading, some few years ago, of one of
those begging gentry boasting of being able to make five shillings a day. He
considered that sixty streets were easily got through, from sunrise to Sunset,
and that it was strange indeed if he could not collect a penny in every street.
Now, this very same anecdote we read, not many days since, in a new work,
entitled, "A History of the Working Classes," as something, of course,
just brought to light.
The story, too, in that by-gone piece of notoriety,
"Pierce Egan's Life in London," about the beggar's opera, where the
lame and the blind, and other disordered individuals, were said to meet nightly,
in a place called the back slums, to throw off their infirmities, and laugh at
the credulity of the public, was, not a great many weeks ago, trumped up into a
paragraph in one of our weekly journals as a fact just dis-[-6-]covered, and the
curious were referred to a certain house in St. Giles's, in corroboration
thereof. Indeed, we think it would be easy to prove that what little is known of
the Common Lodging House, and those people the Cadgers, is neither more nor less
than mere reports, and which like the generality of reports, contain not always
the truth.
It certainly appears strange that those two subjects, which
offer such an abundance of original matter to writers and other observers of
mankind, should have remained so long without any other notice than merely that
they were known to exist. Seemingly strange, however, as this singularity is,
sufficient reasons, perhaps, may be given for it. There can be little doubt, at
least there is none in our mind, that since the commencement of the Spectator
and Tatler, periodicals have principally assisted in developing, if
we may so term it, the powers of observation. Intelligent readers of this kind
of literature would naturally turn away from the insipid stuff of the rhymer,
and the equally sentimental trash of the getter-up of fiction, of which our old
magazines were mostly composed, to the more rational parts of the publication,
such as original essays, critiques, stories which had really some truth for
their foundation, or any thing which bore the stamp of newness. This secret of
attraction would, [-7-] of course, soon be found out, by those most interested in
the sale; but the grand introduction of utility was at that period when the Waverley
novels made their appearance. Then, instead of the exaggerated imaginings of
a diseased brain, with all its superhuman agency, we had History beautifully
blended with Fiction, or rather Truth, accurate descriptions of nature, and
correct pictures of life, both high and low. We all remember what powerful
sensations those literary wonders at first created, and what a crowd of
imitators followed in their train. The Magazines soon caught up the tone, and
became doubly interesting, with the lives of private soldiers, "Two or
Three Years in the Peninsula," and the "Subaltern." The camp and
the man-of-war now poured forth their vast stories of anecdote and adventure, in
all shapes and sizes-octavo and article-sketches of character, local customs and
antiquities, filled up the other attractions of the day; and to read for
improvement, while we read for amusement, was almost considered the fashionable
employment of time.
These excellent topics, doubtless, had their season, end when
done, our wholesale dealers in wisdom, the Publishers, well knew that their
great patron, the public, would not be content with what had gone before.
Something was to be [-8-] again produced, that would make the press move; and that
something, we believe, every one will agree with us, that, notwithstanding the
splendour of Genius which the imaginative tribe are endowed with in this mental
age, was to be that which was new - that, in fact, which would sell.
This, as might be expected, caused the booksellers and their hacks to look
around them, and the tempting gilt which the former held out, (scanty though the
quantity always be!) was yet too keen a spur to the flagging wits of hungry
scribblers, to allow them to lie idle. Society was once more ransacked, and that
which formerly gave pleasure was now found to be too old for entertainment. Bad
practices were discovered to exist amongst those with whom honesty was thought
to dwell-the seat of justice was found to be but the seat of corruption-and so
high in repute had Unions risen in the land, that they even extended to the very
pests of society- the men who lived by plunder. It is to this desire for change,
then, that we are indebted for those admirable novels of the French writer Paul
de Kock, which have lately appeared ; and wherein are portrayed, with such
faithfulness the plodding manners and steady characters of shop-keepers, instead
of the high-toned conversation of polished society' or the homely but innocent
simplicities of a country life - [-9-] that old ground-work of fiction. The same
may be said of those "Essays on the Condition of the People," -
"Household Servants," -the "Old Bailey Experience," and
those equally instructive articles on the "Machinery of Crime in England,
or the Connection between the Thieves and the Flash Houses," which all owe
their origin to the same cause It therefore can scarcely excite surprise that
the Common Lodging House and Cadger should have remained so long without notice,
when, if we take but a little time to reflect, we shall easily perceive that
this work of observation is but just now going on, and that the very period in
which we now live, is what with justice may be called but - the Age of Inquiry.
The Common Lodging House, as the reader no doubt understands,
is a house of accommodation for all classes - no matter what may be their
appearance or character - only provided that they can procure, when required,
the necessary quantity of coins. In every considerable village in the kingdom
there is a lodging-place called the "Beggars' House;" and in every
town, more or less, according to its size or population. In London there are
hundreds and thousands of houses of this description, from the poor tenant of a
room or cellar, with its two or three shake-down-beds [-10-] upon the floor, to
the more substantial landlord with his ten or twenty houses, and two or three
hundred beds. Among these the houseless wanderer may find shelter, from a penny
to three halfpence, twopence, threepence, fourpence, and sixpence a night, on
beds of iron, wood, and straw, or on that more lofty couch a hammock; and some
(that is, the penny-a-night lodger) have often no softer resting place than the
hard floor. This common lodging-house business is a thriving trade; only small
capital is required, for an old house will do, no matter how the rain beats in,
or the wind whistles through, in a back street or filthy lane, for the more
wretched the neighbourhood, the better; old bedsteads and beds, clothes of the
coarest description, with a few forms, and a table or so, for the kitchen, are
all that is necessary for the concern. The front
room, or what is usually termed the parlour, is generally fitted up into a shop,
or, when this is not the case, there is always some accommodating neighbour, who
has the following articles for sale viz., bacon, butter, cheese, bread, tea,
coffee, sugar, tobacco, potatoes, red and salt herrings, smuggled liquors, and
table-beer. Some add the savoury profession of the cook to that of the huckster,
and dish up a little roast and boiled beef, mutton, pork, vegetables, &c.
The whole of these, the reader may be [-11-] assured, are of a very moderate
quality: they are retailed to the lodgers at very profitable prices, and in the
smallest quantities, such as a halfpenny worth of butter, bacon, cheese, tea,
coffee, sugar, tobacco, &c.; and, for the trifling sum of one penny, the
poor epicure may gratify his palate with a taste of beef, mutton, and so on.
Very little credit is given in those creditable places, and that only to those
who are well-known; they who have nut that advantage, often are compelled to
take the handkerchief off their necks, the coat, and even the very skirts off
their backs, to give to the cautious housekeeper, before they can procure a
night's lodging, or a morsel of food; indeed, in the country, it is a common
thing, when a traveller (which is the respectable appellation by which the
alms-seeking gentry designate themselves) seeks for a night's lodging, for the
landlord to refuse admittance, unless the applicant carries a bundle, which is
looked upon as a kind of security, should he not have the desirable in his
pocket.
it may naturally be supposed that, where there are such
little outlays amid such large returns, that good round sums must be produced;
indeed, there are few who commence this kind of life, but soon secure to
themselves an independency. There are many whom we could mention, who have [-12-]
accumulated such large fortunes by the encouragement of vagrancy, as now to be
the proprietors of vast property in houses, and who still carry on large
establishments by means of deputies, and in their deputies' names, while they
themselves live in fashionable style on the borders of the town. The servants
that are kept in those houses are in general men, they being considered better
adapted to keep peace and quietness than women. It is customary with lodgers,
who have anything of value, to deposit it with the landlord, and, in most cases,
it is returned with safety. There are some whose character stands so high for
honesty, that twenty pounds and upwards may be entrusted with them; but there
are those again with whom it would not be prudent to leave a rag, and who often
colleague with ruffians to get up a row during the night, to rob the lodgers,
they of course coming in for a share of the booty. It is true, too, that in a
great many of those houses men and women scorn all restraint, and hate any thing
in the shape of a barrier. As regards cleanliness very little can be said for
any; they all abound, more or less, with those small creeping things, which are
said to be so prolific on the other side of the Tweed, and in the dear
country. To delineate, however, the characters of the different houses,
comes not at present within our limits [-13-] that of itself would fill volumes
with the most extraordinary interest; and what then would be the descriptions of
the crowds who frequent such houses - the thousands and tens of thousands who
exist in this country by what is called their wits - whose trade is imposture,
and whose whole fe [-sic, ed.-] one continued exercise of the intellects? The
flash letter-writer and the crawling supplicant; the pretended tradesmen, who
live luxuriously on the tales of others, and the real claimant of charity, whose
honest shame will hardly allow him to beg for sufficient to procure the hard
comforts of a bed of straw ; the match seller and ballad-singer, whose
convenient profession unite the four lucrative callings of begging, selling,
singing, and stealing; gangs of shipwrecked sailors, or rather, fellows whose
iron constitutions enable them for the sake of sympathy, to endure the most
inclement weather, in almost a state of nudity, and among them only one perhaps
ever heard the roar of the ocean; jugglers, coiners, tramps (mechanics seeking
work), strolling players, with all the hangers-on of fairs, races, assizes,
stable-yards; besides the hosts of Irish who yearly migrate from sweet Erin to
happy England, to beg, labour, and steal. Here then, is a wide field for
speculation, a vast common in life, where a character may be almost picked up at
every step - mines of [-14-] vice and misery as yet unexplored. A road that has
never yet been trodden by the man of the pen, and very rarely by him of the
pencil. If a few straggling mendicants, or some solitary wretch, have
occasionally been sketched, the great centre of the Sons of Cain - the outcast's
home - has never yet been entered ; that place has remained sacred to the
telltale eye of each observer. But enough of this: we will now enter among these
new scenes, and in order to give a correct view of the ways and doings of this
strange life, will at once introduce the reader to the head-quarters of the
cadgers - St. Giles's.
[-15-] CHAPTER II.
ST. GILES'S - THE CADGER'S HEAD-
QUARTERS.
THE house, or rather establishment (for it contains no less
than eight houses, having a moderate-sized court within its boundary, in which
stands a large gas lamp) to which we intend to conduct the reader, is situate at
No. 13, —Street,
St. Giles's. The proprietor being what is called a gentleman - a man of property
- and, like all men of property, of course, wishes not to have his name
mentioned but in a respectable way - we therefore, with all respect for the
power of wealth, will accommodate him with a dash.
This cavern was opened some forty years ago, by a man of the
name of —,
a native of that cautious country, "Canny, tak care o'yoursel."
The Scotchman, with the characteristic foresight of his countrymen, soon saw
that to set up prudence in the midst of wanton waste, was a sure and ready way
to [-16-] accumulate the bawbees. Accordingly, he took a shop and house at
the aforesaid number, and commenced giving shelter to the wild and the
profligate. Trade thrived, and, ere long, Sawney had reason to bless the day he
crossed the border. He not only grew a rich but a braw man-put his sons
to
respectable professions, and expended as much in
setting them up in the world, as might have made them no common lairds in the
land of thistles, and finally gave up the ghost, [-17-] breathing his last breath
amidst the air of plenty, leaving his money-making craft to his eldest son, who
still carries on this establishment, as well as two others, one in the Broadway,
St. Giles's, and the other in Long Acre, through the means of a deputy, and in
the deputy's name, while he himself takes his ease in elegant style, a little
way out of town, and is reputed to be the possessor of a great number of houses
besides.
This grand cadging rendezvous, then, is under the super-intendence
of a deputy, and is kept up in his name; he is assisted by his wife and under
deputy (men-servants), and a few female domestics. This man - that is, the
leader of the band - hails we believe from Cambridgeshire. He is of a slight
make, with a shrewd cast of the eye. Formerly he figured in a gentleman's
family, and has still much of the air and dress of a lackey: he is nevertheless
well adapted for his situation; is affable and free, gambles, and is the
companion of the lodgers in the house, but knows them not in the street. When
any of the inmates chance to meet him in one of their alms-seeking rambles, and
present their hat, to see if he will set an example to unwilling people, he
never drops in more that one poor penny; his wife, however, [-18-] is
considered a trump (a generous woman), and never has the collection-box held to
her, but invariably lets fall a tanner, to shew that she is a Gemman's
wife. These people have the reputation of being honest: anything intrusted
to them, of whatever value, is certain of being returned. Robbery and petty
thefts are here very rare, and fights are never allowed in the house, if the
landlord is at home. There are two kitchens, one for the
males and the other for the females the men are not permitted to visit the
women, and, until after eleven at night, the time the women's kitchen is
cleared, very few of the latter are allowed to disturb their masculine
neighbours; those who have that privilege, are the select few, who are pleased
to term themselves wives. There are sleeping apartments, too, for the
different sexes, and rooms for those who pass as married people ; and when any
of the fair part of the inmates happen, in their perambulations, to meet with a
friend of the opposite gender, and find, as they sometimes do, that it will be
necessary to have a little private communion before they part, the landlord has
so far sympathized with such persons, as to provide a room or two for their
particular use. In short, this place, besides being a common lodging house, adds
to it that now very necessary convenience - a brothel.
[-19-] There are considerably more than one hundred beds in
this house, made of wood and iron, distributed three and six in a room; the
single ones are fourpence, and the double ones sixpence; and when we add the
profits of this to that of the other two establishments, it must be allowed that
the whole must amount to a gentlemanlike sum.
It is now our duty to enter this abode; and though accustomed
to those retreats of vice and crime, we actually did pay a visit to this very
house, one Saturday evening, and there remained until Monday morning, taking,
from first to last, careful notes of the most extraordinary characters and their
ways, in order that our first sketch might be a correct picture of the manner in
which these outcasts of society spend the last, the best, and the first part of
the week.
Well, then, on Saturday afternoon, upon
a certain day, we directed our steps to that well known spot of this mighty part
of the world-the Rookery, the appropriate title given to that modern Sodom, St.
Giles's. On entering this region of sin, we, of course, had the usual
difficulties of foot-passengers to encounter, in picking and choosing our way
among the small but rich dung heaps - the flowing channels and those pitfalls,
the cellars, which lie gaping open, like so many man-traps, ready to catch the
unwary traveler. At [-20-] length, however, we reach No.13 —Street,
which was pointed out to us by a damsel standing in one of the many groups which
are usually collected there, discussing the queries of that city, as being the
habitation that we were in search of.
[-21-] CHAPTER III
As this is the first attempt that has been made to describe a Cadging House,
we perhaps may be excused in being somewhat particular. The outside of this
dwelling was more cleanly and decent than we had been led to expect. The window
of the low front room, which was large and rather bowed, still retained the
remains of its former shop-like appearance, was modestly screened in the inside
by a green curtain; and the step of the door was nicely scoured and sanded.
On entering, we were struck with the establishment-like
appearance of the room. Rows of common tin tea-pots were ranged along the
dresser. As for the shelves, they literally lined the walls, well filled with
plates, dishes, and tea- ware. The landlady came forward to meet us, a tall,
genteel woman, with the manners of one apparently used to [-22-] better society.
After putting down our groat, and giving into her hand a certain garment wrapped
in a handkerchief, in case of accidents, we were told that the men's kitchen was
in the next house, the first door on the right hand side,
in the entry. By this, we found that the threshold on which we then
stood, was no less than the high quarters set apart for the barrack-master
himself. Accordingly, we sallied out [-23-] for No. 12; but, before going in, we
took the liberty to make a survey of this "Vagabond's Home!" and, in
troth, it did well deserve that name.
The low front room or parlour, whose fate it was now to be
the Cadger's Kitchen, had certainly the same shop-like appearance as that of
-but there the likeness ended. The door, which led into the street, instead of
having the clean, welcome, and open look of its neighbour, was fast nailed up,
and bore evident marks that many a sick man had leaned against it. The
door-light-the window above the door -had been taken out, or, what is more
likely, knocked out, and its place supplied with a wooden shutter, which was
raised up during the day, to let in the light, and air; and, as for the window
itself, with the exception of a few panes of glass in the centre, here and there
patched with brown paper, it was almost wholly made up with squares of wood -
giving ocular proof that glass was of a very brittle nature in St. Giles's.
After satisfying ourselves thus far, we proceeded to explore
the interior. A narrow passage ran between the houses, and led into a tolerably
large court, which, with those two, contained the number of houses already
stated. At the foot of this entry stood two or three Moll Flanders looking
husseys, [-24-] who, it may be supposed, did not neglect a passing salute. Farther
up the yard, were some half-dozen fellows, in parti-coloured dresses, (and not
over particular about shoes and stockings) smoking their cutties, and gambling
at pitch-penny.
We next proceeded to the kitchen-and a den-like retreat it
was-dark and gloomy; from the partial light let in by the few remnants of glass,
it seemed well calculated to harbour felon thoughts. The room itself was
moderate enough in size-a good fire, and an excellent grate, containing a copper
of boiling water, always kept full by a pipe conveyed to it from a cask raised
on one side of the fire-place, was all that we could see that approached to
anything like luxury or comfort. Beneath this cask lay a heap of coke and coal,
and a coal-heaver s shovel leaned against the wall, at the service of any one
who loved a cheerful hearth. The floor and walls did not differ much in colour,
the former being of a dusky hue, that knew of no other purifier save the birchn
broom; and the latter, a dirty red-a daub long since and clumsily made. A
cuckoo- clock ticked on one side of an old cupboard, and before the window was
spread a large deal table, at which sat the landlord playing at cards with a
couple of ruffian-like fellows. A small table (whose old-fashioned, [-25-]
crooked, mahogany legs showed that it had once been in a more honoured place;
but the rough deal covering with which it had been repaired, denoted that it was
now only fit for cadger's plate)-stood at the other end of the room,
behind the door. A man, in a decent but faded suit of clothes, sat on one side
-his arms were stretched over the table, and his head half-buried within them-he
was, apparently, asleep. The white apron, that was wrapped round his waist,
clearly proclaimed to what class he belonged-the "Begging Tradesmen. A few
things, tied in a blue handkerchief, rested on one side of his head; and a
parcel of ballads, his whole stock-in-trade, lay on the other. Before the lire,
warming his back, stood a short, thick-set man, humming the air of a vulgar
ditty; his hands were thrust into the pockets of a velvet shooting-jacket,
ornamented with large ivory buttons, such as are commonly worn by cabmen and
other tap-room blackguards. His countenance was by far too dark and sinister-
looking to be honest, and, as lie occasionally favoured us with a few oblique
and professional glances from beneath a white castor, half-pulled over
his brow, it instinctively, as it were, reminded us of my lord-the prisoner at
the bar.
On a form against the wall, sat a tall and aged man, with
[-26-] a beard like a hermit, all fluttering in rags-the very emblem of
wretchedness. He was relieving his uneasiness by giving his back, every now and
then, a comfortable rub against the wall. A little on one side of this forlorn
being, at the head of the table where the landlord sat, was a character
that
could hardly escape the notice of the most obtuse observer, a stout, active
young man, in the very perfect costume of a cadger. The upper part of his
person was decorated with a piece of a garment that had once been a coat, and of
which [-27-] there yet remained a sleeve and a half; the rest was suspended over
his shoulders in shreds. A few tatters were arranged around his nether
parts, but they could scarcely be said to cover his nakedness ; and as for
shoes, stockings, and shirt, they doubtless had been neglected, as being of no
professional use. A kind of a hat (which, from a piece of the flap still
remaining, showed that it had once possessed a brim) ornamented as villanous a
looking head as ever sat upon a pair of shoulders - carrotty hair, that had as
much pliancy as a stubble field-a low receding forehead-light grey eyes, rolling
about, with as much rogue ry in them as if each contained a thief-a broad,
snubby nose- a projecting chum, with a beard of at least a month's growth-time
whole forming no bad resemblance to a rough, red, wiry-haired, vicious
terrier-dog, whose face had been half bitten off by hard fighting. He was the
very type of a hedge ruffian, and a most proper person to meet any one "by
moonlight alone.
- "He Iook'd as if his blood
"Had crept thro' scoundrels ever since the flood."
The very sight of this model of his tribe brought vagrancy,
with all her train, before our eyes, mugger's-carts, tinker's wives, bull-dogs,
donkeys, creels, kail pots, and all [-28-] the trumpery of a gipsey's camp. This
elegant individual, we found afterwards, answered to the very proper appellation
of Cadger Jack. He was leaning over the table, resting his arms on a bundle of
matches, and grumbling heavily about the times. "Cadging," he said,
"was gone to the devil! He had been out ever since the morning, and had not
yet broke his fast; but if lie lived till Monday, he would go to the lord mayor.
Here he used some emphatic language, and swore he would not stir until he got
relief.
You will get three months to the tread-mill, observed a
woman, sitting opposite (the only one in the room, and a happy compound between
the slut and the sot).
He d-d the tread-mill, declared he had played at up and down
before now-and would go- they were compelled to give him something.-the law did
not suffer any man to starve, and so on.
He was rattling on in this way, without any one paying
the least attention to what he said, when a lad about fourteen, decently
dressed, came in, carrying a box. He placed himself beside the window, and began
to display the contents of his trunk, offering for sale several respectable
articles of clothing for mere trifles.
"Go home, boy," (said a man who had just come in,
with [-29-] his arms loaded with good things.) "What brought you here? do you
want to be ruined? you have run away, you young rascal, and stole them
things."
The younker, who was the very image of a spoiled child and
natural vagabond, replied with all the pertness and insolence of one that had
been over indulged, "that the things were his -he had paid for his
lodgings, and nobody had anything to do with him."
"When did lie come here ?" enquired the man, (the
landlord by this time had gone out).
"On Thursday," he was answered.
"It is a shame", he said, " to take in so
young a boy ; he should have had a stick laid across his back, and sent home
again.
In defence of the landlord, it was argued, that if he did not
take him in, others would ; and that. his things were safe here, which might not
be the case e1se~vliere. This was admitted by our moralizer to be very true.
"Howsomever," observed he, " all I know is
this -that if the young dog is not already a thief, I know that he has come to
the right place to become one.
"Aye," that he has, drawled out a half naked lusty
young fellow, raising himself slowly up from the form where he [-30-] had been
stretched his full length, laying upon his face, the sluggard's favourite
position. Hogarth, or Joe Lisle, or any other character hunter, might have taken
this youth for the very Son of Idleness. There might alternately be traced in
his heavy features sluggard, loon, fool, and rascal. " Aye, that's very
true," he observed, " it was coming to St. Giles's that was the ruin
of me; and them there lasses," pointing to a ruddy-faced girl, who had just
popped her brazen front in at the door, and who, In return for his salutation,
politely placed her finger on one side of her nose, then raising the hinder part
of her body touched it, in a style that would scarcely be tolerated at St.
James' s.
"Ah, you imp of Satan!" he bellowed out, as
the young vixen scampered away, between a dance and run, and again commenced his
story:
"It was coming to St. Giles's, I was saying, was the
ruin of me. I robbed my father, but I got clear of that; then I robbed my
mother, I got turned away for that; my sisters took me in, I robbed them, and
was first to cut; at last, my aunt pitied and took care of me, I robbed her too.
But I got three months for that, and-"
"Hold your tongue, you ass, exclaimed half-dozen [-31-]
voices, "the booby's mad, and should be sent to St. Luke's."
At this rebuff the hopeful youth grinned a grin something
like the triumph of a fool glorying in his shame; then, thrusting his hand into
his bosom, was for a few moments lost in a state of heavenly bliss, enjoying
that most ecstatic of enjoyments, which King Jamie, of clawing memory, says,
ought always to be reserved for kings scratching; then rolled himself down
again, to have a little more folding of the arms, and a little more slumber.
[-32-] CHAPTER IV.
A BEGGAR'S REPAST.
OUR friend, who had such singular ideas in a cadging house of
what ought to be, was himself but one of those who existed by his Wits. Two
pieces of leather hung round his feet and ankles, which for resemblance came
nearer to sandals than boots. The rest of his garb, of course, corresponded.
We observed before, that, when he came in, he had his arms
full of good things - among which were a sixpenny cottage-loaf, half a pound of
butter, two ounces of coffee, a quarter of a pound of sugar, and half-a dozen
eggs. He now busied himself in putting those things in order, and quietly
suffered the promising boy to take his will down to the road to ruin. The loaf
he cut down into substantial slices, and covered them well and thickly with the
rich cured cream of the cow; he put the whole of the coffee into the pan and
boiled and simmered it with such attention as clearly [-35-] showed that, at least in the
culinary department, he was a
man of taste; and although he did not mix with his beverage any of that
much-talked-of continental stuff - succory, yet such was the sweet-smelling odour,
as the steam wafted by us, that we could not help thinking that such highly-
flavoured drink could not fail to find favour, even in the
nostrils of the very Ottoman himself. This being done, he placed it upon the
table, and called loudly for his mate.
[-34-] And here it may be necessary to observe, that your professed
vagabonds who live unmarried, always associate in pairs-like the soldier with
his comrade, and the sailor with his messmate; it is probably owing to so many
of the latter being members of this fraternity, that this seafaring phrase has
become to be adopted. Be that as it may, however, the cadger and his mate sleep
together, mess together, and share each other's good and bad luck; the most
prudent of the two being always the purser.
The individual who answered to the call was a short, punchy,
filthy animal, of middle age, half covered with rags. His breast was as bare and
as highly coloured as the chest of a Red Indian; owing, perhaps, to sleeping in
the open air, or laying among the cinder heaps of glass-houses. Jamie, for that
was his name, was, however, a professed gentleman of the road; had an eye as
sleepy and as cunning as a cat; and, to use his low jargon, was "up to
summat," and knew "what was what."
His mate passed a few jokes upon him, at his skill in gulling
swells, and taking in flats; for he was considered an adept. Jamie chucked at
the compliments, and smiled at what was before them. They then fell to the
viands, and [-35-] ate with the hearty gusto of robust health. The eggs were certainly boiled
too hard; but that defect they took good care to remedy, by softening them well
with nice fresh
butter, neither crying "Halt!" until there remained not the shadow of
crust.
After
this slight refection, like the rest of the gemmen who [-36-] live by their means, they wiped their chins with their
napkins-the cuffs of their coats-arose, and went out to that sink of ruin, the
gin shop, to rinse their teeth with a little rum, that being the favourite
stimulus of the begging tribe. The two-penny dram of pure Jamaica is preferred
by them, and particularly those who live in the country, to any other kind of
malt, or spirituous liqueurs.
[-37-] CHAPTER V.
AN EVENING MEAL - A FEAST FOR AN ALDERMAN.
ALL the wandering race, such as pedlars, tramps, and hawkers
of small ware, whose pursuits are in the open air, and which lead them, during
the day, to an uncertain distance from their residence, never have more meals
than their breakfast and their tea. But as the most of these people are no
enemies to good living, they usually contrive to have their morning affair as
much in the Scotch fashion as possible, and their evening refection to unite the
substantiability of the English dinner, with the refreshing qualities of the tea
table. Between six and seven is the hour which they in general retire from the
labours of the day; and as this was the time the lodgers were now crowding in,
every one carrying the eatables he intended to use, which usually consist of
half a pound of bacon, quarter of a pound of butter, [-38-] a pennyworth of tea or coffee, with as much sugar. These ate
placed upon a half-quartern loaf, and carried in one hand; and, if eggs are in
season, three or four may be seen clutched in the other.
In London, and other large towns, these people, when their
finances will permit, indulge in all the luxury of the cook-shop and the
flesher's stall; but in country places, there is not such a variety, the bacon-a
red herring, and the et ceteras, are mostly their choice.
Among the people who now made their appearance, were
certainly some two or three labourers, but the rest were all of that stamp who
scorn to live by the sweat of their brow. The frying pan was put into active
motion. A couple, a man and his wife,-who by their appearance, no one would
suppose that they ever partook of anything save crusts and scraps, filled the
pan with nice mutton chops, by way of a relish to their bohea. Eggs and bacon,
ham and eggs, ham, beef-steaks, (aye, of the prime rump, too,) mutton chops,
sausages, saveloys, &c., &c., were all now with rapidity, and in their
turn, soon smoking, fuming, and frying upon the fire, raising a smell almost
powerful enough to satisfy the moderate cravings of a Frenchman's appetite.
The whole of the food that we could perceive that had [-39-] been gathered from door to door, was one solitary plate of
broken bread, which was before a broad-shouldered and able-bodied match seller;
and even he, before he would allow such refuse to take its descent down his
gullet, took especial care to plaster well every piece with good fresh butter-
washing the whole down with an excellent cup of coffee.
It might have afforded a fine treat to the searcher after
life and manners, to have observed the rough and ragged scene that was now
before us. The kitchen at times was crowded to excess; and, amid the clattering
of plates, fuss of cooking, and confusion of tongues, men, women, and children,
feasting, drinking, singing, and card-playing, while some two or three might be
seen wiling away the painful effects of an empty pocket by a soothing whiff from
the favourite cutty, occasionally a half naked brute, in the shape of a man or a
woman, would stagger in, their heads nodding on their shoulders, like the
equally sensible and oblivious looking pate of a Chinese figure in a grocer's
widow ; and if there was space enough, would reel a step or two, and then
measure their length upon the floor, muttering sundry threatening sounds. These,
of course, were soon picked up, and in their attempts to play at a la
Randall,
had their arms carefully pinioned, their bodies placed upon a seat, and laid
[-40-] against the wall; or, if there was room enough, were accommodated with a stretch upon the form, to snooze themselves fresh
again-dreaming of the sweets of gin, and the joys of a begging life.
But perhaps a sketch or so of those strange beings, with a
little of their interesting slang, will be the better way to describe such a
group. By the bye, this is the place for character-the cadging house is the very
spot for the pourtrayer of life, who wishes to lay claim to any thing like
originality ;- here Nature has her full scope, and affectation rarely shows her
face.
As we were sitting, noting the various particulars that were
continually passing before our eyes, and as the Poet says, catching "the
manners living as they rise," a thumping step was heard coming along the passage.
The door opened, and a wooden-legged weather-beaten seaman, past the men- dian,
with a pot of beer in one hand and a bag in the other, showed his phiz. He was
dressed in the usual sailor's garb, jacket and trousers, with a black
handkerchief slung round his neck, and a low-crowned glazed hat on his head. The
immense breadth of his shoulders, solidity of chest, with a neck like the
"lord of the pasture," gave him the weighty bearing and bold front of an
eighty-four, while his open, [-41-] bluff, and manly countenance at once proclaimed him to be the
true man-of-war's man, and tar of old England. Jack's story is soon told
:-besides being a King George's man, he had been a bold smuggler, and had his
starboard leg carried away in an affray with the Custom sharks.
We were struck with something like admiration at beholding
such a model of the favourite class of this country, and very naturally followed
his motions, taking an interest in every little peculiarity, they being exactly
what have been represented by Smollett, and other naval sketchers, as the
characteristics of a tar of the old school.
Jack thumped away to a seat, clapped his pot of beer upon the
table, and threw down his har alongside. He then very gravely took out of his
mouth a tolerable sized quid of tobacco, and, having safely deposited that
treasure in his jacket pocket, sent, the next moment, a torrent o! Virginian
juice below the bars. These preliminaries being over, he proceeded to rummage
forth the contents of his bag ; and among the odds and ends, hauled out a
substantial piece of the wing of an ox, and showed that his cruise had not been
a bad one. With this goodly blunter of the keen edge of hungry appetite securely
clutched in his fist, it may be supposed that the jack-knife did not lag behind;
indeed, he had evidently [-42-] enjoyed many a north-easter, for his appetite appeared to be
of that sort which brooks no delay; never once allowing him to answer the many
questions that were addressed to him, as "What cheer to-day, Jack?" &c.,
or so much as to give his grinders one moment's rest, save, and only then when
he took a hearty pull at Messrs. Perkins and Co.
This highly-refreshing task being over, he handed a portion
of his grub, and a draught of porter, to a decently- dressed young man, who had
apparently nothing to chew, save his own thoughts. Then drawing from his pocket
his old crony - the pipe, and stretching forth his timber toe, to feel as it were
at home, commenced addressing the young fellow as follows. And here let us
remind the reader, that it will be impossible for us to describe a dialogue
among this class, which is of the lowest of the low, in the language of polished
society; we will therefore, in lieu of the emphatic words with which they
generally garnish their conversation, use the delicate but meaning dashes — —.
Harry, says the tar, " have you not been at work today,
that you look so devilish blue? " (working, by the bye, is the honest word
used by those honest people for begging, they having as correct an idea of what
is meant by respectable terms as their more respectable fellow men).
[-43-] "Work! Aye," replied Harry, "I went out this morning
with Williams. We worked all the way to Piccadilly, then down the Haymarket,
along Pall Mall, and were, just beginning with some ladies in the Park, when we
were stopped by a policeman, and very nigh got tapped, and — —
if I could raise
heart to cadge any more."
"Aye," cried Jack, "you were always a hen-hearted
dog; but, howsomever, I had a brush to-day, myself with one of those land
sharks. As I was crossing St. Martin's-lane, I saw a carriage full of ladies
standing at a shop door. Up I stumped, and was just about to doff my castor
(hat), when a slap on the shoulder, with 'what do you want there?' made me turn
round; and there I met the ugly mug of a devil in blue. 'What's that to you?' says
I. 'Oh, I thought you were going to beg.' 'Did you,' says I, 'if I had, I would
have taken care not to have been such a —
fool,' as to let you see me.' 'Well,
well, go on, go on,' says he. I stepped on one side, and watched till my master
had steered off, and then I about again, and, blow me, if one of the young
ladies - and a prime un she was! - did not tip me a tanner (sixpence).
A remarkably fine-looking roan, with nicely trimmed whiskers
and a long white apron, who was regaling himself [-44-] with a plate of sausages to his evening souchong, here
observed that there were yet some good fellows among the police. "For
instance," he said, "it was only the other day, as I was working at the
Middle Row, Holborn, which is my regular beat, I cadged a couple of swells.
They bid me begone, or else they would call for the police. I laughed at them,
and still tried it on, when one of them called to a blue devil, 'Take this fellow
into custody,' says he, 'and I will appear against him to-morrow morning.' 'What's
he been doing?' demanded the policeman. 'Begging,' answered the other. 'Oh, is
that all ? - well, if you will go on, sir, he will not trouble you.' 'Take him up
directly, you scoundrel,' shouted the gentleman, 'or else, by —
I'll report you.
The policeman laughed, and walked away, leaving the swells swearing like good-uns."
The youth, whom we have before noticed as being partial to a
drowsy life, now put in his word, and gay, his affirmation as to the lenity of
the police. His beat as he called it, was between the foot of Ludgate Hill and
Blackfriars Bridge, "and neither the man who formerly looked about for the
people there, nor his predecessor, ever once interrupted him in his laudable
endeavours to collect pence, although he daily cadged in the very face of the
guardian of the public."
[-45-] It was now admitted by the whole of the company that only
keep off any glaring annoyance, and the police would never say you did wrong.
"Well, well," observed Jack, "I believe, after all,
London is still the place. I was once put into limbo in Norfolk, fourteen days,
for simply asking a gentleman for a little money, and me, if the constables
there wont't swear that old Belzebub is white, sooner than they will let a man
clear. And now," said he, shaking the ashes out of his pipe, " I must to
work once more, or else there will be short allowance to-morrow, I know."
At this there was a general movement among the company; even
the sluggard himself raised up his heavy lump of a body, as if necessity had
just given him a call, - yawned, and fumbled with his hands about his head and
breast. For, be it known, that those ease-loving people have as great a respect
for the Sabbath, as Sir Andrew Agnew himself; not that they care anything for
such a place as a church, but for that inherent dislike which the whole tribe
have to anything in the shape of labour, and which induces them to make an extra
push on a Saturday night, in order that they may enjoy the Sunday as a holiday,
with the rest of the labouring classes. It must likewise not be forgotten, that
the police [-46-] are rather indulgent on a Saturday night, but more watchful
on the Lord's day.
"Where shall we stand?" demanded a tape and thimble
seller to a dealer in matches. "Tottenham Court, or Clare Market."
"Clare Market, to be sure!" answered the other; and
we will have a drop of rum at the new gin-shop. I had half a pint there this
morning with Morgan, and it was prime."
"Come, Blacksmith," (the name given to the fellow whom we
had designated the sloth,) said a half-naked lad, with a strong Irish accent,
"Come, boy, come, we must be dodging."
"Aye," replied his heavy crony, "I suppose we must.
Have you got any browns (pence) about you, Paddy?"
"Yes," said the Hibernian, " I can sthand a
quarthern."
"Then, we'll go."
And accordingly they prepared, the sluggard in a soldier's
flannel jacket, and a tattered pair of breeks, which was all that he
considered requisite for the weather and his own particular profession. Paddy, a
lean, pale-faced lad of eighteen, whose features bore the look of emaciation,
from the continual use of tobacco-the pipe or quid never being out of his mouth,
save at meals, (a short black stump now [-47-] ornamented his jaws - (with a shirt upon his back that had been
as much acquainted with soap as the owner's skin, and a thin pair of canvass
trousers, was the finish complete to this vagabond's costume. Away they went, in
the true shipwrecked sailor-begging style - their arms folded, bodies bent, and
lifting their feet at every step, as if they were afraid to touch the ground for
cold, and which contributed to give them that rocking gait so peculiar to the
sons of the ocean - their whole frames, too, shivering as if the frosty breath of
Old Winter was stealing through their veins :- the sluggard to whine and cry for
melting charity at the foot of Ludgate Hill, and Paddy, in his shirt, to cadge,
at ten o'clock at night, in the windiest nook on Blackfriars Bridge.
[-48-] CHAPTER VI.
A QUIET SCENE.
THE kitchen was now nearly empty. A candle in a brass
candlestick was placed upon each table by the under deputy, which, with the help
of a good fire, made the room feel somewhat comfortable, and even cheerful. Some
two or three individuals still continued to shuffle the cards; and as many women
placed themselves by the fire, with their legs stretched upon the forms, to
smoke and beguile away the time, until "their men," as they termed them,
would come back; while perhaps two or three of the "swinish multitude
" might be heard snoring away their stimulus in a corner, in sounds both
loud and deep.
On a Saturday evening, from the hours of eight and nine,
until eleven, every cadging house is in general particularly quiet, for the
reasons we have already stated; none ever going out to work on a Sunday (the
sweepers of crossings, [-49-] of course, excepted), but those who are compelled from sheer
necessity.
The room for some time enjoyed a tolerable degree of
stillness. The master and an old female domestic occasionally entered, and made
their exit. A lodger or so came home, and busied themselves in getting their
refreshments. Two or three females dropped in from the women's kitchen, just by
the way of having a little gossip; and, as is usual with the angelic part of the
creation, scandal was the topic; how that such a one had been "carrying on,"
as they phrased it, all the week, getting drunk every day, and that they had
never paid the landlord; and how that Mr. So-and-so was grumbling, as well he
might; and how that Torn What-d'ye-call-him was going to be parted from Bet
What's-her- name; "and, to tell the truth, no one pitied her; she came home
mortal (insensibly intoxicated) twice or thrice a day, and what man could
stand that? He had all but murdered her, the other night, but it was to no
purpose, for she had taken every rag he had, even the very shirt off his back,
and put them up the spout (the pawn-shop) this very morning. But as for Tom
himself, he was as sober and as decent a man as ever entered a house, rarely
ever seen the worse for drink above twice or thrice a week, &c., &c.
With such [-50-] lady-like discourse as this, then, did those paterns of
excelling nature while away the time, not forgetting too, every now and then, to
strengthen their language with a few powerful asseverations.
From this interesting group, we turned to observe a few
individuals staggering in, when a tall countryman, with his hat slouched over
his ears, and one of those velvet shooting- jackets, which we have before
noticed, and which indeed is the flash coat of low life, following close after,
caught our attention. The sleeves of his jerkin were slit here and there, and
the white shirt (the only one we had seen that night) protruding through the
rents, gave it a good deal of the appearance of the slashed doublet of former
days. As he advanced into the room, we soon recognised an old acquaintance in
Harry —, of —, in Yorkshire.
This man who now stood before us, is one of the many
instances, that are to be met with in those dens, of the strange vicissitudes of
life. His youth was reared in one of the first boarding schools in Yorkshire,
and, for many years,. he was well known at Doncaster market as a gentleman
farmer; nor is it a great while ago, since this very man might be seen dashing
along those streets in his one-horse chaise. But, alas! what is he now? A
crawler from door [-51-] to door with matches, or, when he can raise sufficient pence
to purchase a stock of ballads, may be seen standing in the streets, straining
himself to amuse the rabble-the inmate of a cadging house, and the companion of
the lowest of the low. So much, then, for gambling and a jovial life.
Notwithstanding his education, and the good society in which he must have moved,
there was yet nothing of the remains of a gentleman about him; a considerable
share of the fool and profligate was naturally engrafted in his character. A
large black mark, in the shape of a half-moon, appeared to have been strongly
indented by hard knuckles, below the left visual organ,-ornaments that are as
frequently to be seen upon the inhabitants of St. Giles's, as rings are upon the
visitors of St. James's. His ruffianly country dress, clownish manners, broad
dialect of canny Yorkshire, with a certain cunning cast of the eye, - contracted
no doubt by peering through the hedge, to see if the gamekeeper was coming, -
all contributed to exhibit him before us, as the very beau
ideal of a poacher.
"York! York!" was vociferated from different parts
of the room, and to all of which the bite, or rather the bitten,
answered, with good-humoured smiles. "He had just come in," he said,
"to see if his mate was come hyem yet; but [-52-] as he had not, he thought he could guess right weel where he
wad be, and wad just step o'er to Brown's (the gin-shop) and see."
Away he went, and, in about ten minutes time, a roaring,
roistering party was heard coming to the door. York entered, his arms loaded
with eggs and bacon, and a glass or two the merrier. A Deaf-Burke-made fellow,
an Irishman, half labourer and half beggar, who went under the name of
Harlequin, reeled by his side in a state of high elevation, with two or three
hangers-on, that trod close to their heels. Harlequin, filled with drink and
overflowing with vanity, overwhelmed every one with noise and kindness.
The plates, &c., were soon put in order, and York showed
himself no dispicable cook. He made the tea, fried the eggs and bacon, and as if
not to be outdone in loving kindness by his mate, now loudly proclaimed,
"that if ony man was in want of summat to eat, to come forward; for
there was plenty for all.
A man, who had been sleeping behind the table, roused himself
up at the invitation and expressed his willingness for a cup of tea.
"Nay, I'll be — —
if thou shall," says York; "thou's been
drunk, man, fra night till morning, and fra morning till [-53-] night, these three weeks; and I say that a man that can find
money to drink, can find money to eat. To get drunk," he said, turning to the
company, "the matter of twice or thrice a week, is a thing that ony man is
liable to, and I say that such a man is welcome to a cup of tea, and maybe summat
to eat; but to be always drink, drinking, I say again, that a man who can
find money to drink, can find money to eat, and so he shall not have a drop!"
During the latter part of this speech, the speaker's looks
were directed towards the company, to see if it met with their approbation. Some
two or three there were who drawled out that "it was right;" but
their assent seemed to be drawn from them, more in expectation of the good
things that York was about to give away, than from any real coincidence with his
opinion - even such cadging house morality as this, appeared to be too rigid for
their notions of right and wrong. As for the man himself, whose drowsy and dissipated looks certainly presented the very picture of
a sot, quietly swallowed the affront, and laid himself down again to sleep.
The Yorkshireman, however, had apparently set his own
conscience to rest, and seemed to care very little about the [-54-] tranquillity of the other. He handed a piece of bacon to one,
and a cup of tea to another; then thrusting a rasher into his own mouth, much in
the style of a terrier griping a rat, chewed, bolted, swallowed, and gorged,
until he had completely stuffed the inward man.
There was a fine contrast of national character between the
Yorkshireman and his mate. The Irishman was all puff, blarney, and brag, and all
the tune had been in a humour either to fight or to shake hands. Nothing would
serve him but to play at cards with every one of the company, offering the most
tremendous odds; but, fortunately fur him, there was not another purse-proud man
in the room but himself. One poor fellow in particular, on whom he fastened,
and who distinctly stated that he had no money, or else he would hazard a game.
But this only served to set the Hibernian s froth in motion. He stormed, roused
himself upon his legs, towered, and gave vent to a burst of blarney.
"Now, d— it, says York, " I dinna like
that - I
dinna like it at all; attack a man that has summat, I say, and not one
that has nought, and then that will luck mair like a man! And with such
hearty John Bull notions as these did canny Yorkshire browbeat his crony
of the sister kingdom.
[-55-] Some remarks were now made upon York's black eye, and various
remedies proposed - such as the application of a piece of raw flesh, &c., to
all of which the Bite did seriously incline, for, as he said, "It
lucked scandalous - like to sec a man with a black eye. "But," says he, "Mike
O'Brady maybe thinks he got dear of that; but, ye hear me say, he's mistaken? I
was the other day at Epsom Races, and spent every ha'penny; and as I was coming
off the course I met Tom —, (a fellow, from whose appearance no one would
suppose was worth two-pence, but who, in reality, was a partner of one of those
gambling-tables which are carried to fairs and races), and asked him for
three-pence to get a pint of yell. He pulled out ten shillings, and said
I mot hae the loan of five pounds ony day; and when Doncaster races comes, I
think I can raise other fifteen" (and to show this was no vaunt, thrust his
hand into his bosom, and pulled out a handfull of the sinews of war - shillings
and half-crowns), "that will be twenty, we'll make a match on it;"
and raising his fist and his voice together, ,we will then see which is the best
man."
At this a tremendous raw was heard at the door. St. [-56-] Giles's was just beginning his orisons. Loud shouts, hard
blows, and deep oaths were heard, with cries for the policeman, and "
Murder, murder," from powerful lungs. In a twinkling the kitchen was emptied, and
then came the din of strife-struggling, heavy falls, swearing, the policeman's
voice, and the roar of all parties.
As soon as this animated but common affair was over, the
company returned; the most of whom seemed to think it scarcely worthy of further
notice; but not so with Harlequin. The Irishman was outrageous-like the
war-horse, his mettle was put in motion, he whooped and bellowed, and was all
kicking for a row; threw off his jacket, displaying the upper part of his body
in a state of nudity, and with his clenched hand slapped his breast, which
sounded like a board ; then striking out, right and left, two sunburnt arms of
bone, like Ossian's heroes of old, cleaving the air with their arms for the
coming fight swore that he had got one black eye, and by the Holy Mother Church
and Daniel O'Connell, would not lay head upon pillow this very night until he
got another.
At last, after much coaxing, pulling, and hauling, he was
dragged to a seat, and John Barleycorn finally over-[-57-]came him, and delivered him for a time safely into the arms of
Morpheus.
York sank down upon a seat, stretched his arms over the table, buried his
head between them, and in an extremely short space of time, Old Tom gave
notice that he too was fast acting as an opiate upon canny Yorkshire.
[-58-] CHAPTER VI. [-sic, ed.-]
A LITTLE LITERARY CONVERSATION.
QUIETNESS was again restored. A group had gathered around the fire, to amuse
themselves with a little chat. Among which was an attorney's clerk out of place,
in the last stage of sottishness and vagrancy; a drunken mechanic and a kind of
decent itinerant, very pedagogue-like, an inveterate reader of the Twopenny
Police Dispatch (the only paper the landlord took in), and a stout advocate
of the Holy mother church and Daniel O'Connell, the father of the people, as he
styled him. A few ungentlemanly words were exchanged between this small
politician and a staunch supporter of the English Church several topics were descanted upon, among which was the character of Wellington and his campaigns.
A short but lively description was given of the Battle of Vittoria, by an old
soldier in a labourer's dress.
[-59-] Wellington, it was said, was not the man he was, or else the
papers did not speak the truth; and, certainly, a few glaring facts were
produced that they could, at least at times, make a mistake. This brought on a
discussion about the management of newspapers.
One talkative fellow maintained that one newspaper was but
merely a copy of another; but this assertion was clearly set aside, and the
duties of an Editor and Reporter nicely discriminated, by a very equivocal sort
of a gemman, in a great coat, whom we strongly suspected was somewhat
related to the Swell Mob.
[-60-] CHAPTER VIII
THE GAMING TABLE.
THE cards had been in constant motion,-either two or three,
or more, engaged with them during the whole of the evening. The card party was
now augmented to about sixteen or eighteen, all players and betters, not one of
whom could boast of such a thing as a shirt, save the landlord, who at this
moment presided as director in chief of the ceremonies, every deference being
paid to the lord of the house, as "Master this," and " Master that," and
"Master the other."
Twopence to fourpence was the sum which each put down at
every stake, and it was astonishing to observe how rapidly the coins were
transported from one pocket to another.
"D— it," says a match-seller, "there goes eighteen-[-61-]pence. I brought in two shillings,
I'll now not have enough
left for my Sunday's dinner."
All this was said with the most perfect good humour, and at
the same time putting down the other stake.
Occasionally one of those fiend-like looks, which are said to
be so conspicious at the splendid hells, might be seen stealing even across
this low swindling table. But, upon the whole, the party was very sociable,
winning and losing their money with the utmost equanimity of temper.
We observed more than one put down their last penny, and then
light their pipes and walk out, puffing and humming away, in search of more.
[-62-] CHAPTER IX.
AN UNDER-DEPUTY.
A STRANGE phenomenon about this time grinned in at tht door,
his face all wrinkled with age and smiles, and an extremely short pipe in his
mouth, which was no other than Ben, the under-deputy, a snub-nosed,
hard-featured, squat old boy, with a horn lantern, in his hand, to see if any
body wanted to turn in (go to bed).
As this individual is a fine specimen of the class to which
he belongs, a slight sketch, perhaps, may not be unnecessary.
The deputies, we have before stated, are the men-servants of
those establishments, they being better adapted as the waiters of these noisy
houses than women. Ben our present subject, had all his life been a roadsman,
and lived, as the professional phrase goes, the best way he could; and now, [-63-]
in his old days, when his legs had become rather heavy for a
tramp, had secured to himself that comfortable retreat - under-butler of the
Beggar's Hall. He was well calculated to be the drudge of a common lodging house;-
laborious, dull, and good-natured, answering every call, with as much patience
as Francis in Henry the Fourth, with his "Anon anon!" He could sit up night
and day-neither age nor toil seemed to have made much impression on his sinewy
and hardened frame; indeed, to use the common saying, he was considered by all
to be a durable slave.
Besides these serviceable qualities, Ben was considered a
great favourite with the lodgers; was never known to utter a testy word, save
and only then, when the 'bacco grew short; like the rest of his tribe, he
was an eternal smoker. This misfortune however, in being short of Virginia, was
seldom of long duration. He never kept that event a secret and, on such
occasions, what could any honest-hearted cadger do, but offer their pouch to the
willing old lad?
To light the lodgers to bed, was Ben's regular task-from
eleven at night till three during the week, and until four on the Sunday
morning.
At this summons, one or two who had become drowsy through the
powerful influence of the pipe or pot, roused [-64-] themselves upon their legs-stretched their arms out, and
yawned, which was as much as to say, "they would follow," Ben took the hint,
and moved on with his lantern, like an ostler leading horses to the stable, to
show to which house in the building, and to what room, they were to repose their
precious selves.
[-65-] CHAPTER X.
THE RETURN; - AND A LITTLE UNKNOWN.
THE kitchen was again getting crowded. The fire once more gave notice that it
was busy with chops and steaks and as for the gambling-table, it had literally
become thronged. The bawlers of catch-penny papers, or "booksellers," as
they styled themselves, were now beginning to make their appearance, in parties
of three or four ; every one having a copy of the news he had been so loudly
proclaiming stuck in the front of his hat, with that awful word, "murder,"
printed in large letters as the head-line ; or the more melancholy announcement
of the dying speech of one John So-and-so. They busied themselves in arranging
their papers and dividing the gains.
We have before noticed that these people have partners or mates. A quarrel
was now about to take place between [-66-] publisher and his Co. The Co. swearing that the principal was
going to put him in the hole (cheat him) ; but after a recasting up of accounts,
business was at length amicably adjusted. These lung-labourers then threw away
all further care for the night, and each sought after his own individual
amusement- as smoking, eating, gambling, and larking.
A singular being now entered the kitchen-one who would have
afforded a fine treat to such observers as Sir Walter and the American
Irving-those accurate delineators of the human race. Such places as these, we
have before observed, teem with originality; they, in fact, run wild (if we may
so use the expression) with character.
The man, (for the creature was in masculine garb,) was
between four and five feet high; he was long armed, and one leg was rather
longer than the other, which caused one of his shoulders to rise a little when
he walked or stood, and which gave his shoulders, which were naturally broad, a
very square appearance.
He was dressed in one of those flash coats already described
whose full make, too, by no means diminished his breadth. A kind of shawl
crossed his neck, or rather bosom, for his neck, was bare, in a style as if
arranged by the hand of a female; and underneath of which peeped two corners of
his [-67-] shirt. His features were of that kind, that carried precisely
the expression of those of a masculine woman; and when he spoke, it was a
perfect puzzle to the stranger, to know whether he heard the voice of a man or a
woman.
The creature himself (as if conscious of those singularities)
affected a superior degree of manliness. Swaggered around the room, his hat half
pulled over his brows, and slouched a little on one side; assuming the scowling
look of a bully, and at times the flashy air of a gallant.
He had a wife; and, as if that was not enough for any man,
likewise had a mistress; and, to show that he was a professed admirer of the
kind of Eve, took hold of his mistress when he entered with one hand, and waving
the other above his head, sung "My love is like the red, red rose," in a
voice at once powerful and sweet. Then taking her upon his knee struck up "
the light, the light guitar," in a style so exquisitely musical and rich, as
fairly to disturb the card-table, and draw form the whole company a thundering
round of applause, with " Bravo, Bill!"
He appeared to be a creature of great spirit and vivacity
dashed about, throwing himself into pugilistic attitudes, and striking out,
right and left, at his cronies, in sportive play, using at the same time the
true slang of low, blackguard [-68-] life ; as, with great emphasis, "I'll —
into you, your — —
pall
!" with a vast deal more of such high-toned language so appropriate for
the gallant of a cadging house.* (see Glossary at end) He fell a capering, singing all the while with
great animation, and beating time most elegantly with heel and toe, and giving
vent to the fulness of his Spirits in shouts, as "He hows," "the Cadger
Lad," "A roving life for me," &c. ; and, catching hold of his wench
again, thrust his hand into his bosom - pulled out a handful of silver ; swore,
bravadoed,- squirted
tobacco juice in the grate, and boasted of always being able to earn his ten
shillings a day, and thought nothing of picking up a guinea in the same time at
a race or fair. * [-click here for
footnote-]
[-69-] This money-making man, it may be supposed, was a street
singer; and was reported to be a native of that country [-70-] - the land of leeks and cheese; that place where goats are said to
abound -
Wales.
[-71-] The landlord opened the door, and gave orders for the card players to cease;
it was twelve o'clock. The gamblers were loth, but the master was peremptory.
THE LIFE OF LOW LIFE; OR THE GLORIOUS FINISH OF THE WEEK.
"YES!" snivelled a street-preacher and psalm singer, who could
scarcely hold up his head for strong drink; "we are now entering upon the
Lord's day."
"Aye, observed a spouting vagabond, "it is so, old Mawworm, and you
had better go to bed. You know you have your part to perform to-morrow."
"Yes!" he answered, adding a little snuff to his other stimulants,
and muttered something about "God willing."
And now it was that the roar of revelry began-noise, disorder, and discord,
all joined chorus. The players were let loose, and were giving vent to their
different feelings, as ill or bad luck had attended them.
The lodgers were nearly all returned, every man and woman more or less in
liquor. The boys of the Emerald [-73-] Isle were fast approaching to that state in which they are
said to be in all their glory; and nothing was now seen or heard but singing,
swearing, cooking, eating, smoking, talking, larking, and quarrelling.
The first who broke the peace was a stout bare-footed fellow,
a Welshman, who began beating his wife (a girl of the pave), for her
excessive partiality for gin.
"Are not you a pretty —
of a woman," he exclaimed, with a
voice as gruff as a ruffian's could well be, "to call yourself a man's
wife, to come home here, by —, drunk, every night, while I am going about the
streets all day long bawling myself hoarse! " and at the conclusion of
every sentence sent her a blow of weight enough to lower one of his mountain
bulls.
No one ever offered to interfere, although the woman's face
was already beginning to exhibit both blood and marks for, however that old
right for a man to chastise his wife is repudiated in the other parts of
society, in this refined age, yet in these walks of life, this ancient custom
still holds good. Here a man is considered perfectly in the right to match his
strength of arm against his wife's strength of tongue.
The fellow hammered away at his helpless helpmate with hard
words and harder blows, threatening all the time a [-74-] separation, and extolling to their skies the beauties and
perfections of another nymph, whom he swore be would join.
Just at this moment the lady in question made her appearance; and, certainly, as far as personal looks, dress, and a more sober
demeanour went, she was superior to the one in possession. The wife, who had
borne beneath the weighty power of her husband, in as becoming a manner as a
wife ought to do, now felt as if endowed with the nervous locks of Sampson;
fired with jealousy, and backed by Old Tom (gin), she sprung upon her
rival, and, in a moment, ribbons, caps, and hair, were twisted in the clenched
hand. Down went a table and one or two forms, - men, women, and children, - and up
rose yells, screams, and oaths, with all the stormy joys of fight seconding the
uproar.
Old Ben rushed in, and did his utmost to restore order, but
it was "no go," as they would say - family affairs must be settled. The
Amazons tugged and tore at each other, if not with the fury and hate of
bull-dogs, at least like their mates. The wife had secured the sweetheart by the
hair, and was taking a most merciless advantage, by keeping her down upon the
floor, when a Scotch sailor, wishing, we suppose, to see a stand-up affair,
unloosed her hold, and let the other escape. But Sawney had, at this time at
least [-75-] reckoned without his host; he had been wise, lie had left,
the devil alone; for, loosing her vengeance, she turned all her remaining rage
upon the northern, and soon made something trickle down his cheeks, of more
consequence than tears.
The man never retaliated, but he was not without his friend.
The woman who officiated as his wife-down with the child she had in h~r
arms-flung off her shawl, and going up to the jade who had tickled her gude
mon, poured forth a torrent of strong round words.
"Do you think," she said, "that he has nobody to
take his part, that you strike as if you were not to be struck again? No, no!" she
added, "he is no man who will strike a woman except she be his own wife;
but here, you — —, I am your," &c., &c.
"Honour among thieves!" thought we, and here's fair play
among cadgers. The other, who, to use the phrase of the ring, was blood to the
back bone, and in a most excellent humour to accept a challenge, was not very
slow in putting herself in order for what is termed a regular.
Ben tried again for peace, but it was no use. The master was
gone to the house in the Broadway, and the inmates here [-76-] were wild. No nails, or tugging of hair, was brought into
this action, but everything settled in the true old English style of disputing.
These paragons of the tender sex then threw themselves into
attitudes that would have done honour to a Mendoza; but Sawney's wife, who was a
real Lady Barrymore hussey, proved the master at arms. Tall and bony, she
slashed her opponent at arm's length, with the cutting force of a Curtis and
presently ended her share of the fray.
The Welseman [-sic,ed-], after having seen his battered spouse taken
care of, returned and going up to the Scotchman, very gravely said,
"Joe, I believe there is something between you and me.
You were always a good 'un, but I cannot allow any man to meddle with my wife."
"Say no more," said the canny Scot; "it's all
right. No man ever heard me say, nay."
"No never!" shouted the most of the company. "You
were always a trump!"
"Well then says Taffy, "let's have this turn over,
and we'll be friends yet."
And with this kind of chivalrous feeling, did these two [-77-] honourable blackguards prepare to maul each other, zealously
encouraged by their friends. Sawney's wife telling him, that if he did not
soften that lump of goat's flesh, she would give him a lesson herself how to
fist a man.
It was curious to observe how differently these people were
affected, when a violent struggle was about to take place. The most of the
younkers, particularly the females, got upon the window-ledge tables, and forms,
but most of the veterans in vice never moved out of their seats.
The sole garments of the Scot consisted of a loose, ragged
great coat. and a pair of trousers of of equal value. Wheeling himself round for
the combat, in a kind of bravo style, his cumbrous coat dropped off his
shoulders, with as much ease as if it had been the cloak of a Spanish duellist,
and presented a frame formed for the ring. Rather under-sized, light limbed,
broad chested, and strong armed, all sinew and bone, with a step as light as an
Indian, and an eye as fierce as a Mohawk.
After a little play with their fists, by the way of feeling
how each other stood, and an exchange or two of favours, the Scot sent in a
straight right-handed hit on the throat, with as much force as if the whole
weight and strength of his body [-78-] had been concentrated in the blow. His man was prostrate head
foremost under the bars. Taffy's lump of a body was picked up, for his soul
seemed as if it had taken its flight to Davy Jones. It was all over, and Joe,
the "o'er the border man," was cheered with deafening acclamations, whoops,
and yells.
Harlequin, who ought to have been christened Hercules, from
his Atlas-like shoulders, was now standing in the middle of the floor, like a
surly boar roused from his lair, by he seat [-sic, ed-] he had been sleeping upon being
overturned, and, catching instinctively, as it were, that fights were going on,
longed for some object on whom he could soothe his disturbed blood. He had flung
his jacket over his arm, and, like a true bully, was striking his naked breast
with his fist, and daring in his own low, disgusting slang, the best man in the
room to turn out.
The place, at this moment, bore no bad resemblance to the
infernal regions. The tables, forms, and windows were crowded, and drunkenness,
ruffianism, and profligacy, were revelling in all the demoniac delights of
mischief. Shouts, roars, and yells, shook the house, for the Scot to accept the
challenge, Ben's voice in the din, was like a mite in the universe.
[-79-] Sawney had just moved a step, to take the bear by the paw,
when an apparation [-sic, ed-] appeared that instantly quelled the riot.
We have heard of a story of the devil obtruding himself on a
company playing at cards on a Sunday morning, and petrifying the
Sabbath-breakers by the sight of his club foot; or we might imagine Jove
silencing the stormy contentions of Olympus by his nod; but neither of these had
a greater effect than had the blue physog. of a police sergeant showing his
awe-inspiring self in at the door.
Down crouched the vagabonds? every tongue was hushed as if
Silence had stilled their throats with his finger. Some took their pipes,
affected to appear tranquil, but smoked very confusedly, and a slight tremor
might be observed in their fingers. As for Harlequin, he stood with his naked
form, and his jacket flung over his arm, with a look as condemned as if the cap
was about to be placed upon him.
The policeman never once opened his lips, but moved forward,
with all the commanding importance of office, as he held his lantern from one
ruffian's face to another. The landlord came in, and apologized for the noise,
and promised that there should be no more disturbance. The guardian of the night
nodded, and walked out.
[-80-] The lodgers were then entertained with a lecture, with
threats of turning out, and sending to the station-house. Three or four of the
most unruly were dragged away to bed and the rest left, with strong injunctions
to enjoy nothing but harmless mirth.
[-81-] CHAPTER XII.
ONE NOISE SUBSTITUTED FOR ANOTHER - THE CLAMOURS OF STRIFE EXCHANGED FOR THE SONGS OF PEACE.
"Music soothes the savage breast."
IT was now two o'clock in the morning, and the streets of St.
Giles's were as lively as the other back parts of the metropolis are at eleven
at night. The several lodging houses round about were sending forth their
various sounds, and an occasional meeting, at the doors, between two friends,
with an interchange of blows, tended to keep the policeman from being weary on
his duty.
Our company had been to strongly excited, notwithstanding
the little check they had received, to sink into anything like sober chat. As
soon as this profligate crew were left to themselves, they began to recover
their spirits, by whistling and singing-beating time, with their hands upon the
tables, [-82-] and their heels upon the floor, so that one noise was substituted for another and the clamours of strife exchanged for the songs of peace.
The he-woman gave two or three of the sentimental songs
of the day, with her usual ability; and that popular song,
"The Sea," was sung in fine taste by a chorus singer of Drury Lane. Richard's
soliloquy was ranted in stark staring style by a young vagabond who spouted
from tavern to tavern for a living. An Italian air was screamed and quivered by
[-83-] an elderly female, who once strutted upon the stage, but who
now was half bent with care, want, and blue ruin (gin). It was considered by all
to be excellent, (the poor always feeling a respect for what the rich admire)
although there were none there that had either hearts or heads to feel or
understand it.
Some curious imitations of birds were given by a comical sort
of a character, who had a good deal of wit and foolery about him. A jolly
drinking song with admirable humour by a hawker of flower-pots-a stout
middle-sized young fellow, in a smock frock, and a low crowned hat, with a round
ruddy face, and merry eye - one, too, who was all lark frolic and fun - a very
English John with a pipe and jug.
A tall athletic youth, and a short thick-set man (brothers)
dressed in flash coats, (velvet shooting jackets), ornamented with large ivory
buttons, and their hats slouched on, sat in a corner smoking their pipes. They
bore the exact appearance of being half poachers, and half tillers of the earth;
fellows who, upon a pinch, would have no objections to take the road with a
bludgeon - the very models of country blackguards. They were both in liquor -
the
shorter one so much so, that lie had became quite obstreperous, and had once or
twice interrupted the other vocalists and now, as if unable [-84-] to
contain himself any longer, broke out with a strong voice slobbered a little
though from too much malt-
"With a dog and gun, and all such ware,
To
Donerby woods we did repair.
We went
till we came to Ryburn town,
And
there we drank of ale around.
"We
ran these dogs till almost one,
Which
made the gamekeeper load his gun - "
here the honest fellow hiccuped, which rather interrupted his harmony; at length, after a stare, as if to collect his ideas, an extra exertion, and a kind of vaunting look-again stammered forth with-
"If they had took us, and fought
us like men,
We
should not have valued them two to their ten."
This last burst was too much for his remaining senses; he dropped on the
floor-the proper level for all topers.
But the best specimens were the street singers, that ragged, squalling class.
A dirty tattered, coarse-featured wench whose visits from the cadging house
could only be varied to the gin shop and pawn shop, came singing and dancing in
rocking her body to and fro. She was saluted by the name, of " Bristol Bet,"
and "Give us the sergeant;" but Bet had tasted too much of the inspiring
liquid, to answer their calls [-85-] with promptitude. She footed away vigorously, to drive away
care, seconding every caper with a shout, and "Jack's the lad," and slapping
her body, and heel, in rather an unlady-like style.
After giving her legs a proper shaking, she laid her head a
little on one side, and moving it, with her foot to keep time, screamed out, in
notes both loud and shrill,
"One
lovely morning as I was walking,
In
the merry month of May,
Alone
a smart young pair were talking,
And I overheard what they did say.
The
one appeared a lovely maiden,
Seemingly in grief and pain,
The
other was a gay young soldier.
A
sergeant in the waggon train.
This appeared to be a real " Sweet Home" song; it went to
the heart of every one in the room, who roared and bellowed applause, and
thumped away with their hands and feet on the floor and tables. Bet never
stopped until she had given the whole history of the Sergeant and his dearest
Nancy. This poetry and music was too congenial to be easily set aside.
[-86-] One of the same sex, and certainly one of the same family, a
low, squat, scowling, weather-beaten looking hussey, a cadger born and bred,
whose shoulders seemed as if they had been squared and rounded by a child
continually laying upon them. She was the real songstress of low life; Vulgarity
might have taken her by the hand. Throwing up her face which was the very symbol
of bad weather and an easterly wind, doled out.
"It
was down in the lowlands a poor boy did wander,
It
was down in the lowlands a poor boy did roam;
By
his friends he was neglected, he looked so dejected,
A
poor little fisherman's boy so far away from home.
This dismal ditty, although it brought down thunders of
applause, made our very flesh to creep, as it brought to our mind cauld rainy
nights, starving times, Ratcliff Highway, and Whitechapel, as the other had
street mobs and lads whistling and singing the popular sergeant, as they trudged
home from their work at night.
They were all now in the piping mood. The wooden-legged
sailor, Jack, our old friend, would have given them "Rude Boreas," but only
stiff Mr. Grog would not let him; and, after one or two ineffectual attempts to
clear his throat was persuaded to stagger off to his berth above stairs,
respect-[-87-]ably propped on one side by his mate, a gemman rather
top heavy, and his noble timber supporter on the other.
York who had slept the sleep of "deep sleep," never once
being disturbed by the din, - for as the seaman is used to the roar of the ocean,
so the cadger is used to the roar of revelry, - now opened his eyes, and feeling
his lungs and his spirits in refreshing order, made bold to rehearse the
exploits of "Bauld Turpin," that mischevious blade; but, unfortunately for
his talents as a vocalist, sung it so much in the dry and drawling dialect of a
canny Doncaster lad, that the whole company, one and all, were fit to split
their sides at York.
Songs, English, Irish, and even Welsh ditties, were bawled
and drawled out, until one after one sunk into the arms of the sleeping god.
The master and his man seized this favourable opportunity to
haul and coax away a number to bed. Harlequin, who had become fresh again, as he
would have termed it, raised the Welshman who had had the fray in his arms, as
if he had been a child, and carried him above stairs to his resting-place. York
was led most lovingly out by a comely maiden from the mountains of Wales, who
had lately become his wife for so long a time.
[-88-] By the by, this is a great place for the ancient Britons numbers of whom,
with their Welsh names and broken English, make this house their home. There,
there might be seen, William Williams fra Glamorganshire, and Hugh Morgan fra
Glamorganshire, and David Jones fra Swansea, and Thomas Thomas fra Monmouthshire;
with a host of round-faced, and had once been decent, man-hatted wenches.
[-89-] CHAPTER XIII.
THE CLOSE OF THE NIGHT.
THE point of time was now moving fast to the stroke of four.
The nymphs of the pave, who made this place their habitation, were all
returned from the toils of the night. About a dozen or two of both sexes were
gathered together around the fire, chatting of the various occurrences of the
preceding day, or otherways quietly amusing themselves. The females - the most of
whom cohabited with the men now in the kitchen - were a miscellaneous set;
cadgers, flower- girls, servants out of place-or of that class denominated
unfortunate. Some, too, went out to char and wash, and all united to their
several professions the privilege of the pave. One or two, about a
twelvemonth ago, had been the belles of Regent-street walk, but whose
bloated cheeks and tattered shawls now made them fit denizens for St.
Giles's.
[-90-] A stout, middle-aged, good-looking woman, who had once been
cook and housekeeper in a gentleman's family, and who still retained something
of the decency and respectability of her former appearance, was now by
misfortune reduced to be their associate. A few were young and handsome, and,
what would appear strange in such a place, even well dressed.
There were two girls (sisters) who were romping about with a
young lad, certainly in rather an unboarding-school-like manner, that
particularly attracted our attention. They were both neat and clean, and
genteel in their apparel. One of them, indeed, might be called beautiful. These
girls had three ways of making a living. The first was that of selling flowers ;
the second, begging as servants out of place the third, and certainly the best,
was, to use their own phrase, "seeing gentlemen." It is a fact what we are going to state,
that one of these girls has been known to make as much as five pounds a day -
doubtless by the seeing profession and although cadgers from their
birth, and born and bred, as we may say, in vice, yet it was but a few days
before this, that we heard these young strumpets (for they deserve no better
name) abusing an unfortunate woman who lodged in the house, using the most
opprobrious language; and had [-91-] at the same time, the most singular audacity to style
themselves modest girls.
Of the males, the most of them were young men who had once
been in better circumstances, but who now were reduced to get their living by
calling papers about the streets. A few fine characters might have been picked
out amongst those prodigal sons, as they stood warming their backs, or grouped
together in this Vagabond's Hall.
There was an Anglo-German; he was very respectably dressed,
only he had neither shoes or stockings, and though of small stature, had a voice
like thunder; he was of course, considered a first-rate patterer (caller).
Another, a merchant's clerk and active young man, and an excellent mimic, but a Careless
himself. The third, a Welshman; one who might have caused a painter to
halt-a model of strength; in size and form like one of his own mountain bulls,
with a voice as hoarse as the winter's blast on Snowdon. He was a fine compound
of ruffianism, shrewdness, and a sort of caustic humour. The fourth and last,
was a tall, genteel young man, a draper, or, rather had been; he was still very
smart, although much out at elbows. He had a pair of fine large, showy,
sharp-pointed whiskers; was exceedingly fond of hard words, and, in his speech,
superfine in the extreme.
He had been highly chagrined that very night, at a person expressing surprise at seeing him at Cadger's Hall, he
considering that a man
might make himself respectable where-ever he might be, always provided that he
conducted himself with propriety ; in short, maintaining to the very last, the
shadow of his former consequence.
The clock chimed the warning to the final hour. A policeman came in, supporting a man he had picked up in
the streets in the last stage of inebriation. Ben put out one
of the lights, and gave notice that it was time to move.
The landlord busied himself in rousing two or three
slumberers by sundry shakes and pushes with his foot, - not, reader to go to bed,
but to go out, - they being lodgers who, having run out of coin and out of credit,
were allowed for old acquaintance sake, to lie about the kitchen while it was open, but were
invariably desired to depart at the lock-up hour.
The poor wretches got up, buttoned their clothes about
them, thrust their hands into their bosoms, and shuffled out half asleep, a
melancholy instance of the trials of the children of poverty and crime. The
lodgers moved slowly off to bed, one by one ; the kitchen was
securely locked up, and the landlord then walked away, leaving drunkenness,
misery and debauchery about the door.