University of Virginia Library

OF THE LOW LODGING-HOUSES.

The revelations of the Blind Boot-Lace Seller con-
cerning the low lodging-houses make me anxious
to arouse the public to a full sense of the atrocities
committed and countenanced in those infamous
places. It will have been noticed that the blind
man frankly tells us that he was "taught his
business" as a mendicant in one of these houses
of call for vagabonds of all kinds — beggars, pros-
titutes, cheats, and thieves. Up to the time of his
starting to see his brother at Hull, he appears to
have had no notion of living but by his labour,
and, more especially, no wish to make a trade of
his affliction. Till then he seems to have been
susceptible of some of the nobler impulses of hu-
manity, and to have left his home solely because
he refused to be party to a fraud on his own sis-
ter. Unfortunately, however, on his way to carry
out his generous purposes, he put up for the night
at the "travellers" house in the town where he
arrived, at the end of his first day's journey; from
the very minute that he set foot in the place he
was a lost man. Here were assembled scores of
the most degraded and vicious members of so-
ciety, lying in ambush, as it were, like tigers in
the jungle, ready to spring upon and make a prey
of any one who came within the precincts of their
lair. To such as these — sworn to live on the la-
bours of others, and knowing almost to a sixpence
the value of each human affliction as a means of
operating upon both the heart-strings and the
purse-strings of the more benevolent of the in-
dustrious or the affluent — to such as these, I say,
a blind man, unskilled in the art and system
of mendicancy, was literally a God-send. A
shipwreck or a colliery explosion, as they too
well knew, some of the more sceptical of the
public might call in question, but a real blind man,
with his eye-balls gone, was beyond all doubt;
and to inspire faith, as they were perfectly aware,
was one of the most important and diffi-
cult processes of the beggar's craft. Besides, of
all misfortunes, blindness is one which, to those
who have their sight, appears not only the greatest
of human privations, but a privation which wholly
precludes the possibility of self-help, and so gives
the sufferer the strongest claim on our charity.
In such a place, therefore, as a low lodging-house,
the common resort of all who are resolved not to
work for their living, it was almost impossible
for a blind man to pass even an hour without
every virtuous principle of his nature being un-
dermined, and overtures of the most tempting
character being made to him. To be allowed to
go partners in so valuable a misfortune was a
privilege that many there would strive for; ac-
cordingly, as we have seen, the day after the
blind man entered the low lodging-house, he who,
up to that time, had been, even in his affliction,
earning his living, was taken out by one of the
"travellers," and taught how much better a
living — how much more of the good things of this
world — he could get by mendicancy than by in-
dustry; and from the very hour when the blind
man learnt this, the most dangerous lesson that
any human being can possibly be taught, he be-
came, heart and soul, an ingrained beggar. His
description of the delight he felt when he found
that he had no longer any need to work — that he
could rove about the country as he pleased —
without a care, without a purpose — with a perfect
sense of freedom, and a full enjoyment of the
open air in the day, and the wild licence of the
lodging-house society at night, satisfied that he
could get as much food and drink, and even
money as he needed, solely for the asking for
it; his description of this is a frank confession of
a few of the charms of vagabondism — charms to
which the more sedate are not only strangers, but
of which they can form no adequate conception.
The pleasure of "shaking a loose leg," as the va-
grants themselves call it, is, perhaps, known only
in its intensity by those wayward spirits who
object to the restraint of work or the irksome-
ness of any settled pursuit. The perfect thought-
lessness that the blind man describes as the first
effect produced upon him by his vagabondism is the
more remarkable, because it seems to have effaced
from his mind all regard, even for the sister for
whose sake he had quitted his home — though to
those who have made a study of the vagrant charac-
ter it is one of those curious inconsistencies which
form the principal feature in the idiosyncrasy of
the class, and which, indeed, are a necessary
consequence of the very purposelessness, or want
of some permanent principle or feeling, which
constitutes, as it were, the mainspring of vaga-
bondism. Indeed, the blind man was a strange
compound of cunning and good feeling; at one
moment he was weeping over the afflictions of
others — he was deeply moved when I read to him
the sufferings of the Crippled Nutmeg-Grater Seller;
and yet, the next minute he was grinning be-
hind his hand, so that his laughter might be con-
cealed from me, in a manner that appeared almost
fiendish. Still, I am convinced that at heart he
was far from a bad man; there was, amid the
degradation that necessarily comes of habitual

[Description: 915EAF. Page 408.]

mendicancy, a fine expression of sympathy, that
the better class of poor always exhibit towards
the poor; nor could I help wondering when I
heard him — the professed mendicant — tell me
how he had been moved to tears by the recital of
the sufferings of another mendicant — sufferings
that might have been as profitable a stock in
trade to the one as his blindness was to the other;
though it is by no means unusual for objects of
charity to have their objects of charity, and to be
imposed upon by fictitious or exaggerated tales of
distress, almost as often as they impose upon
others by the very same means.

I now invite the reader's attention to the narra-
tives given below as to the character of the low
lodging-houses. The individuals furnishing me
with those statements, it should be observed, were
not "picked" people, but taken promiscuously
from a number belonging to the same class. I
shall reserve what else I may have to remark on
the subject till the conclusion of those state-
ments.

Prisons, tread-mills, penal settlements, gallows,
I said, eighteen months ago, in the `Morning
Chronicle,' are all vain and impotent as punish-
ments — and Ragged Schools and City missions
are of no avail as preventives of crime — so long
as the wretched dens of infamy, brutality, and
vice, termed "padding-kens" continue their
daily and nightly work of demoralization. If we
would check the further spread of our criminals —
and within the last four years they have increased
from 24,000 to 30,000 — we must apply ourselves
to the better regulation and conduct of these
places. At present they are not only the pre-
paratory schools, but the finishing academies for
every kind of profligacy and crime.

According to the report of the Constabulary
Commissioners, there were in 1839 —

                 

	Mendicants' Lodging- houses.	Lodgers.	Total No. of Inmates.
In London	221 average	11 or	2,431
In Liverpool	176	6	1,056
Bristol	69	7	483
Bath	14	9	126
Kingston-on-Hull	11	3	33
Newcastle-on-Tyne	78	3	234
Chester (see Report, p.35)	150	3	450
	619		4,813

Moreover, the same Report tells us, at p. 32,
that there is a low lodging-house for tramps in
every village. By the Post-office Directory there
are 3823 postal towns in England and Wales;
and assuming that in each of these towns there
are two "travellers" houses, and that each of
these, upon an average, harbours every night ten
tramps (in a list given at p. 311, there were in
83 towns no less than 678 low lodging-houses,
receiving 10,860 lodgers every night; this gives,
on an average, 8 such houses to each town, and
16 lodgers to each such house), we have thus
76,460 for the total number of the inmates of
such houses.

To show the actual state of these lodging-houses
from the testimony of one who had been long
resident in them, I give the following statement.
It was made to me by a man of superior educa-
tion and intelligence (as the tone of his narrative
fully shows), whom circumstances, which do not
affect the object of my present letter, and there-
fore need not be detailed, had reduced from afflu-
ence to beggary, so that he was compelled to be
a constant resident in those places. All the other
statements that I obtained on the subject — and
they were numerous — were corroborative of his
account to the very letter: —

"I have been familiar, unfortunately for me,
with low lodging-houses, both in town and coun-
try, for more than ten years. I consider that, as
to the conduct of those places, it is worse in Lon-
don than in the country — while in the country
the character of the keeper is worse than in Lon-
don, although but a small difference can be noted.
The worst I am acquainted with, though I haven't
been in it lately, is in the neighbourhood of Drury-
lane — this is the worst both for filth and for the
character of the lodgers. In the room where I
slept, which was like a barn in size, the tiles were
off the roof, and as there was no ceiling, I could
see the blue sky from where I lay. That may be
altered now. Here I slept in what was called the
single men's room, and it was confined to men.
In another part of the house was a room for
married couples, as it was called, but of such
apartments I can tell you more concerning other
houses. For the bed with the view of the blue
sky I paid 3d. If it rained there was no shelter.
I have slept in a room in Brick-lane, Whitechapel,
in which were fourteen beds. In the next bed to
me, on the one side, was a man, his wife, and
three children, and a man and his wife on the
other. They were Irish people, and I believe the
women were the men's wives — as the Irish women
generally are. Of all the women that resort to
these places the Irish are far the best for chastity.
All the beds were occupied, single men being
mixed with the married couples. The question is
never asked, when a man and woman go to a
lodging-house, if they are man and wife. All
must pay before they go to bed, or be turned into
the street. These beds were made — as all the
low lodging-house beds are — of the worst cotton
flocks stuffed in coarse, strong canvas. There is
a pair of sheets, a blanket, and a rug. I have
known the bedding to be unchanged for three
months; but that is not general. The beds are an

[Description: 915EAF. Page 409.]

average size. Dirt is the rule with them, and
cleanliness the exception. They are all infested
with vermin. I never met with an exception.
No one is required to wash before going to bed in
any of these places (except at a very few, where
a very dirty fellow would not be admitted), un-
less he has been walking on a wet day without
shoes or stockings, and then he must bathe his
feet. The people who slept in the room I am
describing were chiefly young men, almost all
accompanied by young females. I have seen girls
of fifteen sleep with `their chaps' — in some places
with youths of from sixteen to twenty. There is
no objection to any boy and girl occupying a bed,
even though the keeper knows they were pre-
viously strangers to each other. The accommoda-
tion for purposes of decency is very bad in some
places. A pail in the middle of a room, to which
both sexes may resort, is a frequent arrangement.
No delicacy or decency is ever observed. The
women are, I think, worse than the men. If any
one, possessing a sense of shame, says a word of
rebuke, he is at once assailed, by the women in
particular, with the coarsest words in the language.
The Irish women are as bad as the others with
respect to language, but I have known them keep
themselves covered in bed when the other women
were outraging modesty or decency. The Irish
will sleep anywhere to save a halfpenny a night,
if they have ever so much money." [Here
he stated certain gross acts common to lodging-
houses, which cannot be detailed in print.] "It
is not uncommon for a boy or man to take a girl
out of the streets to these apartments. Some are
the same as common brothels, women being taken
in at all hours of the day or night. In most,
however, they must stay all night as a married
couple. In dressing or undressing there is no
regard to decency, while disgusting blackguardism
is often carried on in the conversation of the in-
mates. I have known decent people, those that
are driven to such places from destitution, perhaps
for the first time, shocked and disgusted at what
they saw. I have seen a decent married pair so
shocked and disgusted that they have insisted on
leaving the place, and have left it. A great num-
ber of the lodging-houses are large old buildings,
which were constructed for other purposes; these
houses are not so ill-ventilated, but even there,
where so many sleep in one room, the air is hot
and foul. In smaller rooms, say twelve feet by
nine, I have seen four beds placed for single men,
with no ventilation whatsoever, so that no one
could remain inside in warmish weather, without
every door and window open; another room in
the same house, a little larger, had four double
beds, with as many men and women, and perhaps
with children. The Board of Health last autumn
compelled the keepers of these places to whitewash
the walls and ceilings, and use limewash in other
places; before that, the walls and ceilings looked
as if they had been blackwashed, but still you
could see the bugs creeping along those black
walls, which were not black enough to hide
that. In some houses in the summer you can
hardly place your finger on a part of the wall
free from bugs. I have scraped them off by hand-
fulls.

"Nothing can be worse to the health than these
places, without ventilation, cleanliness, or decency,
and with forty people's breaths perhaps mingling
together in one foul choking steam of stench.
[The man's own words.] They are the ready
resort of thieves and all bad characters, and the
keepers will hide them if they can from the police,
or facilitate any criminal's escape. I never knew
the keepers give any offender up, even when re-
wards were offered. If they did, they might
shut up shop. These houses are but receptacles,
with a few exceptions, for beggars, thieves, and
prostitutes, and those in training for thieves and
prostitutes — the exceptions are those who must lodge at the lowest possible cost. I consider them
in every respect of the worst possible character,
and think that immediate means should be adopted
to improve them. Fights, and fierce fights too,
are frequent in them, and I have often been
afraid murder would be done. They are money-
making places, very. One person will own several
— as many as dozen. In each house he has one
or more `deputies,' chiefly men. Some of these
keepers are called respectable men; some live out
in the country, leaving all to deputies. They are
quite a separate class from the keepers of regular
brothels. In one house that I know they can
accommodate eighty single men; and when single
men only are admitted, what is decent, or rather
what is considered decent in such places, is less
unfrequent. Each man in such houses pays 4d. a
night, a bed to each man or boy; that is 26s. 8d. nightly, or 486l. 13s. 4d. a year, provided the
beds be full every night — and they are full six
nights out of seven. Besides that, some of the
beds supply double turns; for many get up at two
to go to Covent-garden or some other market, and
their beds are then let a second time to other
men; so that more than eighty are frequently
accommodated, and I suppose 500l. is the nearest
sum to be taken for an accurate return. The
rent is very trifling; the chief expense to be de-
ducted from the profits of the house in question is
the payment of three and sometimes four deputies,
receiving from 7s. to 12s. a week each — say an
average of from 30s. to 40s. a week — as three or
four are employed. Fire (coke being only used)
and gas are the other expenses. The washing is
a mere trifle. Then there are the parochial and the
water-rates. The rent is always low, as the
houses are useable for nothing but such lodgings.
The profits of the one house I have described
cannot be less than 300l. a year, and the others
are in proportion. Now, the owner of this house
has, I believe, 10 more such houses, which, letting
only threepenny beds (some are lower than that),
may realise a profit of about 200l. a year each.
These altogether yield a clear profit of 2300l. for
the eleven of them; but on how much vice and
disease that 2300l. has been raised is a question
beyond a schoolmaster. The missionaries visit
these lodging-houses, but, judging from what I
have heard said by the inmates in all of them,
when the missionaries have left, scarcely any

[Description: 915EAF. Page 410.]

good effect has resulted from the visits. I never
saw a clergyman of any denomination in any
one of these places, either in town or country. In
London the master or deputy of the low lodging-
house does not generally meddle with the disposal
of stolen property, as in the country. This is
talked about, alike in the town and country
houses, very openly and freely before persons
known only to be beggars, and never stealing: it
is sufficient that they are known as tramps. In
London the keepers must all know that stolen
property is nightly brought into the house, and
they wink at its disposal, but they won't mix
themselves up with disposing of it. If it be pro-
visions that have been stolen, they are readily
disposed of to the other inmates, and the owner
or deputy of the house may know nothing about
it, and certainly would not care to interfere if he
did. I never heard robberies planned there, but
there are generally strangers present, and this
may deter. I believe more robberies are planned
in low coffee-shops than in lodging-houses. The
influence of the lodging-house society on boys who
have run away from their parents, and have got
thither, either separately or in company with lads
who have joined them in the streets, is this: —
Boys there, after paying their lodgings, may
exercise the same freedom from every restraint as
they see the persons of maturer years enjoy. This
is often pleasant to a boy, especially if he has
been severely treated by his parents or master;
he apes, and often outdoes, all the men's ways,
both in swearing and lewd talk, and so he gets a
relish for that sort of life. After he has resorted
to such places — the sharper boys for three, and
the duller for six months — they are adepts at any
thieving or vice. Drunkenness, and even mo-
derate drinking, is very rare among them. I
seldom or never see the boys drink — indeed,
thieves of all ages are generally sober men. Once
get to like a lodging-house life, and a boy can
hardly be got out of it. I said the other day to
a youth, `I wish I could get out of these haunts
and never see a lodging-house again;' and he
replied, `If I had ever so much money I would
never live anywhere else.' I have seen the boys
in a lodging-house sit together telling stories, but
paid no attention to them."