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[-84-]
LAMBETH POLICE COURT.
PIG-HEADED WITNESSES, PROSECUTORS AND POLICEMEN - ASSAULT SUMMONSES AGAINST HUSBANDS - MR. JAGGERS AT LAMBETH POLICE COURT - A GIPSY CASE - UNCLE JOSH AND HIS PROMISING NEPHEW - THE NATURE OF AN OATH - A QUEER KIND OF DEFENCE - THE BURGLAR OF ROMANCE AND THE BURGLAR OF FACT - " CRACKING" A BAKER'S SHOP - A WAIF OF THE JOE BREED - HOMELESS, RAGGED AND STARVED.
AN extended experience of Police Courts tends to convince me of one of two
things especially. The general public, deriving what little they know of the
proceedings, from occasional reports printed in the newspapers, can form but an
inadequate idea of the quantity, as well as of the quality, of the work through
which the Magistrate of a district such as Lambeth contrives usually to get in
the course of a single sitting, or of his sore trials of temper arising mainly
from the stupidity, wilful evasion, and natural pigheadedness of witnesses,
prosecutors, and policemen. It is little short of marvellous how any man can sit
for hours dealing with an unsavoury selection from a hotchpotch of crime,
drunkeness, and all manner of depravity, and all the while preserve a clear
brain a calm and cool judgment, equal at a moment's notice to investigate a case
of murderous assault or to patiently sift the dry details of a forgery and fraud
case.
Secondly, my increasing familiarity with the atmosphere of
the Police Court, urges me, however [-85-] unwillingly,
to the conclusion that the British husband of the lower classes is occasionally
even more of a brute, as regards his domestic relations, than he has credit for
being. Because he does not so frequently figure as of old in the news columns as
a wife-beater, he is popularly supposed to have amended his ways, and to have
discovered the superior virtues of moral over physical force. To some extent
this may be true. All that I know about it is that, visiting Lambeth Police
Court every day for nearly a week, I never saw less than eight or nine wretched
women, with their faces cut and bruised, or with their eyes horribly blackened
and bloodshot, or with their heads swathed in hospital bandages, crowding the
spacious lobby, waiting their turn to speak to the officer on duty at his desk
in the outer office as regards taking out an assault summons.
I don't know who this officer is, or how long he has occupied
his present position, but without doubt his services must be of great value to
the court. He has a way of tackling applicants for summonses worthy of Mr.
Jaggers himself. His first principle evidently is to discourage the grant of a
summons on any ground whatever. He will have nothing to do with rigmarole, but
is short, sharp, and to the point, and, especially in assault cases between
husband and wife, ready with a judicious hint as to "making it up"
being the better policy. Somehow he so manages it that not two in half-a-dozen
obtain what they came for. In the majority of cases they are but too ready, poor
creatures, now that the sting of the blow is numbed a bit and their indignant
blood grown cooler, to give fullest weight to the summoning officer's pacific
suggestions, and turn their bruised faces sadly towards home again, willing yet
once more more to kiss and be friends, and kindly clasp the hand that, clenched
as a fist, had used them so cruelly.
All this morning gipsy folk have been hovering restlessly
about the court. There are several men as well as women mingling with the crowd
waiting for admission, and two or three of the unmistakably Romany breed,
despite their preposterous "get up" in civilised suits of clothes,
stick-up collars and pomatumed hair, attend at the witnesses' entrance. There is
a flourishing public-house a few doors up the street, and at the bar of it are
congregated more gipsies, chiefly women. They wear plaid shawls, with the ends
wisped about their waists, girdlewise, and skirts so short that the top
laceholes of their ankle-jacks are plain to the beholder. They are imbibing the
contents of quart pewter pots with the demeanour of those who require
fortification against im-[-86-]pending affliction,
rather than as though their merry hearts were in the shining measures. They
whisper together anxiously, but not so softly but that the bystander is made
aware that the subject of their conversation is one "Josh." He is
spoken of as "poor lad" and "poor chap," though the
prevailing opinion appears to be that the magisterial sentence on him will be
nothing more severe than "two pounds or a month." There is, however,
one young creature, whose height is about five feet seven, and who wears a pair
of bob-nailed boots like those of a market gardener, who is in tears, and
refuses to be comforted. She has a presentiment that the sentence on Josh will
be a month, without the option of a fine, and she alludes to an adverse witness
as an "interfering faggot," and swears a horrible oath to the effect
that she would like to damage her internal organisation by jumping on her. The
same female is in the public portion of the court, with her numerous friends,
when the case is brought forward, and there are the be-collared and be-greased
witnesses; and there, too, is a policeman who has in his custody a
heavy-looking, brass-bound, loose-thonged whip. Josh is shown into the dock, and
an officer appears with the prosecutor.
Josh is a gipsy, and about as ill-looking a ruffian as ever
occupied his present unenviable position; though there is an unmistakable family
likeness between him and his witnesses, who have made guys of themselves with a
view of impressing his worship that they are far too respectable to offer false
testimony. Josh has a broad brutal face, with no forehead to speak of; and a
scowl that brings his eyebrows low down on his eyelashes.
He has a terribly big fist, too, which is brought into full
view as he plants his elbow on the front of the dock and leans his heavy under-
jaw on it in sulky defiance. The prosecutor is not a formidable-looking
individual. He is a mere child of ten years old-a boy; and there is a bald patch
at the back of his head, where the hair has been shaven away to accommodate a
large, star-shaped arrangement of surgical sticking-plaster; otherwise there
appears nothing the matter with him. He is thoroughbred gipsy as Josh
himself-indeed, it presently transpires that the prisoner in the dock is the
boy's uncle. Bright-eyed and shrewd- looking, and cool and self-possessed, he
grins at the prisoner, and, after looking about for them, recognises and winks
at the prisoner's witnesses, and regards with an amused stare the usher in his
sable robe, the white-haired magistrate on the bench, and the clerk at the
table. Indeed, he is seemingly so unconscious of the responsibility attaching to
his position, that it is deemed necessary to examine him as to his fitness for
taking the oath ere he gives his evidence.
"Come here, my little man," says the kindly clerk.
"Don't look at the prisoner, listen to me. Do you go to school ?"
"No, I don't."
"Not to a Sunday school ?"
"Yes, I goes to him sometimes."
"And what do you do there ?"
"I sings, like the rest of 'em."
"But don't you read ?"
"Don't know how to."
"But somebody reads to you - about God, eh? Don't play
with the table. Speak up. You have heard about God ?"
"And do you know that it is wicked to tell lies ?"
[-87-] "Yes."
And having thus satisfied the Court that he was fully aware
of the solemn duty about to be imposed on him, and that if he swore falsely he
was in peril of all the pains and penalties attaching to the crime of perjury,
he was permitted to take the Book in his right hand, &c.
"There's law for yer!" whispered one gipsy woman to
another at my elbow; "swearin' him agin' his own uncle!"
"Hist! don't you fret about that,'' was the response ;
"Davy's wide awake."
So it presently appeared: for, when he - the ten-year-old
witness -came to be examined as to the injury to his head and who had occasioned
it, it became unmistakably apparent that if Uncle Josh was to be convicted it
would have to be on evidence much more criminating than that the prosecutor was
disposed to give. There were two horses in a field, he said, and he went there
in a cart with the prisoner (Uncle Josh) to catch them. The horse in the cart
fell down, and they had a trouble to get it up. Then the prisoner asked him to
go and catch the horses, and he replied "I shan't," and called his
uncle by a very wicked name. Without being pressed on the point he volunteered
to repeat the expression he had made use of, and undoubtedly it was a very
wicked name indeed. On this, the guileless young prosecutor went on to state,
the prisoner ran after him with the whip - the brass bound weapon already
alluded to - and tapped him on the head with the thin end of it, the thong end
of it.
"Tapped you on the head with the thong end and cut your
head open!" the clerk remarked incredulously. "It knocked me
down, and p'raps that's how I hurt my head. I d'un know how it was,"
doggedly replied the audacious young sticker to kith and and kin. On which a
gleam of scornful pride twinkled in the eyes of Uncle Josh in the dock, and his
craven look gave place to one of undisguised insolence. But the unwilling
witness had yet to be taken in hand by the astute magistrate. "Take the
whip in your hand, boy, and show me exactly how the prisoner held it when he
struck you." And, brought to confusion by the sudden and unexpected
request, the child took the whip, and twisting the thong round his hand and
shaking it, butt end out, said "He held it so." "You are sure of
that?" don't look at the prisoner, answer me. But the boy had already
looked at the prisoner, and the prisoner at him; and in a pretty pucker, judging
from his frightened face, he at once reversed the weapon in his small fist as he
replied, "No, he didn't hold that end, he held this." "You had
best call the witnesses if there are any," said the magistrate.
Luckily for the cause of humanity and justice, though, as it
turned out, singularly unfortunate [-88-] for the
hulking ruffian in the dock, there were four persons of unimpeachable
respectability who had witnessed the cowardly and brutal assault. They all
agreed that when the horse fell down in the cart, the prisoner proceeded to kick
the poor brute in a most savage manner, and presently swore horribly at the boy
who was assisting, and struck at him. On this the boy ran away, and the
prisoner, first flinging large stones at him, ran after him, and, after a chase,
reached him, and brought him to the ground with a heavy blow on the back of his
head with the brass-capped end of the whip, and when he was down, kicked him
more than once.
Seeing all this from the window of her house immediately
adjoining, a lady (one of the witnesses) fetched a policeman, and the poor
little fellow was found crouched behind the cart, with his head gashed and
drenched with blood.
Ruffian Josh had engaged a solicitor to defend him, and it
was urged in his behalf that people generally were so prejudiced against gipsies
that their testimony against them was pretty sure to be highly coloured. In the
second place, he (the solicitor) had to state that his client, usually the most
kindhearted of men, and almost a teetotaller, had been to see a newly born baby,
and his joy on the occasion had betrayed him to imbibe somewhat too freely of
the cordial prepared for the occasion. Finally, the desperately driven advocate
submitted to his worship that the manners and Customs of these gipsy folk were
rougher than those of other people. They were in the habit of giving their
disobedient children "hasty knocks," and, amongst themselves, nothing
was thought of it; and, probably, if no one had interfered in the present
affair, the boy himself would have forgotten all about it by this time. Relying
on this defence, the solicitor called no witnesses.
It seemed a pity that so much persuasive eloquence should be
wasted. Its effect on brutal Josh was remarkable. Overwhelmed, at blackest
scowling point, by the crushing testimony of the four witnesses, he ~vas
preparing for the worst; but the oily utterances of his advocate had an effect
on his spirits like that of pouring water on a drooping plant. He plucked up
perceptibly, and gradually his great under-jaw leant less and less despondingly
on his heavy fist, and it came at last to his folding his arms and looking like
an injured person who demanded immediate release. All the better, since
doubtless he felt the sting of his sentence the more keenly.
"I can arrive at no other conclusion," said his
worship, addressing the prisoner, "than, that you are a savage and brutal
fellow, and you wil1 have to go to prison for four months with hard labour."
And I hardly know which looked most dismayed, the convicted
ruffian, or the plucky, poor little wretch whom he had used so
[-89-] cruelly, and who, despite of that, had so staunchly stuck to his
promise to say as little as possible against his father's brother. His small
brown face blanched almost white as he heard the severe sentence, and it was
with a scared and beseeching look that he made his way to join his male parent -
one of the carefully got-up witnesses already alluded to, but I don't think he
had much reason to fear. Judging, however, from the tigerish glare in the eyes
of the tall young woman who wore market- gardener's boots, I am afraid it would
have gone hard with the lady witness who fetched the policeman, if within half
an hour afterwards, she, the vengeful virago, could have met with her enemy in
some solitary lane.
Of all criminals none, as pictured in the mind of the
majority of her Majesty's peace-loving subjects, is so terrible as the burglar.
Murder has its polished as well as its coarse and vulgar representatives, and
romance has dealt with the highwayman, and demonstrated that his calling is not
inconsistent with good looks and gallantry, and that the mounted hero of the
mask and pistol may pursue his professional duties with gentlemanly politeness,
combined with courteous consideration for the fair sex. But the burglar has not
one redeeming quality. The mere mention of him is enough to conjure up a vile
figure from the depths of bogeydom. There he stands, a muscular monster, with a
hairy cap on his head and a bit of black crape veiling his visage as low as his
flattened nose, but leaving his bristly muzzle and his brutal mouth visible. The
creaking of a stealthily-opened drawer causes the sleeper to rouse to sudden
wakefulness and reveals to his affrighted gaze the burly figure looming large
against the white hangings of the bed-chamber. His great fist grips a bludgeon,
and should his helpless victim dare to cry out, or in a voice louder than a
whisper utter a prayer for mercy, with a horrible imprecation the midnight
miscreant is at him, and he is lucky indeed if he is left merely stunned and
bleeding when his assailant has ransacked the premises and walked off with his
booty tied up in a bundle. To what extent I shared in the popular prejudice
against the burglarious brotherhood it is unnecessary for me to make known, but
I must admit that when I heard it whispered that the next case was one of
burglary I was somewhat curious to see the sort of character the court gaoler
would presently appear with.
Expecting a brutal-looking ruffian, I was disappointed. He
was a decent-looking young fellow, with rather a pleasant face than otherwise,
and he was dressed like an engineer's labourer. He had taken part in an
out-and-out burglary nevertheless. A woman at a window had seen him and some
others, at one o'clock in the morning, doing something at a parlour window
adjoining a baker's shop. She saw the sash presently raised, and two of the men
helped in the other two, while they themselves watched outside. In a few minutes
the watcher at the window saw the thieves inside raise the sash and throw out
certain articles of clothing. A while longer and they both emerged from
the house, and all four ran off. It was but small booty the four bold burglars
obtained, however; a man's coat, a woman s cloak, and about six-[-90-]teen
shillings out of the baker's shop till, most of the money being in farthings.
When "on information received," the policeman took the prisoner, who
was having a pen'orth of coffee at a stall about two hours after the burglary,
he had a share of the farthings stowed in one pocket and some three threepenny
pieces, likewise part of the spoil in another pocket. When questioned by the
policeman, prisoner, said, according to the constable, "I have just come
from the docks," but hearing this, the young fellow looked up with half a
grin and muttered. "Come from the 'doss,' I said," but nobody heeded
his muttering, and "docks" went down in the depositions; whereas when
the young man said doss, he meant thereby that he had just come from his
lodging. But it did not make much difference probably in the end. When at the
police-station, to account for the farthings found on him, he said he worked at
a ginger-beer maker's, and the money was part of his wages. When questioned by
the magistrate, however, he had another and a more circumstantial story to tell.
"I was a walkin', your washup, through a railway arch up Walworth way, when
I hears footsteps and four young men-like what the witness at the winder see -
come running along, and I heard one of em say, 'Here's a bobby arter us - I
shall chuck mine away,' and then I hears a chink, so when they'd gone I went to
the spot, and there I finds the farthings and that tied up in a hankysher."
"You will be remanded for a week," was the magistrate's commentary on
the ingenious statement, "and perhaps the police may find out something
about you." And judging from the scowling expression of the young man's
countenance when he heard these words, I think it not unlikely that his
worship's conjecture may be justified.
The young burglar for the time disposed of, next minute there
occupies the dock an object that might have moved the hardest heart to pity and
compassion. A boy of deplorable aspect, with only a few rags hanging to his body
and limbs, shoeless, shirtless, and so horribly thin that it seemed as though
his mere trembling would presently shake his more. prominent bones through the
skin. Not a gutter-bred patroller of the streets, as might be judged from the
softness of his hair and the character of his face, which, with the blue eyes
deep set in their orbits, hollowed with starvation, was more like that of a
girl.
"I found the prisoner, your worship," (it sounded
odd to hear the weak little scarecrow dubbed with an epithet, one no harder than
which had been applied to ruffian Josh) "on the Embankment at two o'clock
this morning, and, finding that he was houseless and destitute, I took him to
the station."
The Lambeth Police Court magistrate has a kind heart for poor
boys, for which I shall ever hold him in respect.
"Where do you come from, my lad: who are you?" his
worship asked in so commiserating a tone that the miserable little waif might
have plucked up heart to answer if he hadn't been brought so terribly low.
What he replied was in so feeble a voice that the tall gaoler
had quite to "make a back" that he might bring his listening ear to
the quivering small lips.
" He says, your worship, that [-91-]
his father and mother turned him out to find work and keep himself, and
that he has been wandering for three weeks, not being able to find work, and
afraid to go home."
"Has he anything else to say?"
No, that was all. Those few words told the starved boy's
pitiful story. Driven from home, just as a troublesome dog might be, and with
threats and blows, perhaps, lie had been told to be off, and return no more. And
ever since, for twenty days and nights, no one heeding or caring for him, the
poor little outcast had wandered the streets or crept into holes and corners to
sleep, assuaging the pangs of hunger just as a homeless cur assuages his, while
all the time perhaps "father" at home was congratulating himself on
the extra slices of bread and the bit more meat that came to his share now that
that hateful encumbrance his young son had been sent packing.
One cannot help wishing that there was virtue in bread to
swell in the throat and choke such unfeeling rascals. Are there many such? Human
nature shrinks from admitting it; but those who should know - gaol chaplains,
superintendents of reformatories-insist that such cases are by no means rare,
especially now that the law insists that whatever his position, a man must send
his children to school until they have attained a certain amount of education.
It is an easy way for a brute to get rid of his unprofitable progeny. "Be
off, curse you, and pick up a living for yourself; and dare ever to make known
who you are so as to be brought back to me and I'll show you no mercy. It is
from such sources that an army of boy thieves is recruited. It is easy enough
for a hungry boy to steal the means to obtain a meal if he is reckless of
consequences, and the ice once broken, the mischief is done. Imprisonment
ensues, and the boy knows, that branded as a thief there is less chance than
ever of his being received home again, even if he could muster courage to face
the ordeal. With his brutal father's parting words, "Be off and never show
your face here again," ringing in his ears, he shrinks from the hopeless
attempt for shame's sake, adopting a name that is not his own, takes to thieving
for the sake of the means to buy him food and lodging, and is heard of no more
except when his crimes lead to his figuring as the principal character in a case
tried before the judges at the Central Criminal Court.