CHAPTER XLIV.

CHEAP LODGING HOUSES.

ONE night, having made an appointment with one of the Scotland Yard detectives, I met him as I had promised, punctually, at the India House, which is situated at the junction of Victoria and Dean streets, Westminster.

Be it remembered, that Westminster is a borough, and sends two Members of Parliament, yet it is a part and a portion of the metropolis of London.

He came muffled in his coat, and, having saluted me, asked me if I was ready to accompany him, to visit some of the low lodgings houses that abound in a certain part of Westminster, at the back of Millbank Prison, which fronts the river between Vauxhall and Lambeth Bridges.

It was the night before the great Derby Race, at which nearly all England is represented, peer and peasant, tradesman, beggar, burglar, and pickpocket. On such a night all the London lodging-houses were sure to be full of tramps.

Briefly, I said I was ready to accompany him and without further conversation we penetrated to the darkest recesses of the borough of Westminster, going down Dean into Orchard street, through Orchard street into New-Pye street, down Great Peter street, through Holland street, and so into a short, dark street, called Medway street, at the back of the Greycoats School.

All these streets which I have named have low lodging houses, and were filled this night with tramps, vagrants, peddlers, itinerant showmen, vagabonds, and thieves. Great Peter street is so called to distinguish it from Little Peter street, and both streets being within a stone's throw of the Abbey of Westminster, derive their names from the dedicatory title of the ancient and world-renowned abbey which was called, at one time, and is yet known in official documents, as the "Abbey Church of St. Peter's, Westminster."

Medway street leads into the Horseferry Road, which is at one end a continuation of Lambeth Bridge, and at the other end is flanked by Holland street.

My blue-coated friend said to me, after pulling out a small dark lantern, which he used in these dark rookeries and streets by the water side:

[Sidenote: THE WESTMINSTER SLUMS.]

"The worst place I can take you to in Westminster, and perhaps in London, Sir, barrin always 'Paddy's Goose,' in Ratcliffe Highway, is the lodging house kept by 'Jack Scrag,' or 'Damnable Jack,' as he is called on account of his swearin'--in Medway street. I can't guarantee that you will bring your watch or pocket-book back, but I will save your life if you get in a row, and that will be as much as I can do. If there are any thieves there they will be afraid of me, but the roughs and tramps, who are out of the law's reach, are up to anything, and will break your leg or arms, or mine either, without talking twice about it."

On our way to the Slums of Westminster I entered a cheap lodging house, in which the lodgers were preparing their evening meal, for which they paid four-pence to the proprietor. A potato was given each person with a small junk of broiled or fried meat, and a tin-skittle full of washy tea or coffee, such as is given to steerage passengers at sea, was handed to the tramps and beggars, who frequented the place.

The room was large and lofty, with smoky rafters, and a number of men, women, and boys, were sitting, standing, and reclining on the floor or on chairs, but nearly all were eating like ravenous beasts from tin-plates or earthen-ware platters.

A man might purchase a herring for a half-penny at any of the refuse sales in the markets, and bring it here and toast it over the huge fire for an additional half-penny, and many of the occupants of this gipsy-looking place were employed in the pleasing occupation of cooking as we left the place on our journey after an adventure.

Medway street, as I have before mentioned, is quite short, and therefore it was not long before I saw a light of more brilliancy than those around it, bursting from the window of the first story of a brick building, the bricks being set off about the windows with trimmings of dark blue stone. Above the door were painted the emblems of the Lion and the Unicorn, which are everywhere displayed in English cities, and a lamp of a square shape projected from the doorway, throwing a dead and unwholsome-like light upon the street and sidewalk. In the window a sign was painted, indicating that lodgings were to be had for four-pence a night for single persons, and also a notification that "boiling water" was "always ready."

The house was probably a hundred years old, as near as I could tell by its old beams, which were bare, the besmeared and notched lintels on which names, effigies, and initials, had been carved, from time immemorial, by lodgers, thieves, and cadgers. There was a bar, and glistening beer-pumps, and pewter noggins, and copper measures, were hung up behind the counter. Against the walls, which were environed by brass railing to keep intruders from making too free or breaking the glasses if a fight should occur, was inscribed on a tin plate of greasy hue the words:

John Scragg & Co., Wine and Liquor Merchants. Beds, 4d. a Night.

The proprietor, a fellow with beetle brows, a furzy black beard, and a fustian jacket well greased, sat on a worn bench near the beer pump.

"Good evenin, Mr. Scragg," said the detective to the rascally-looking fellow.

[Sidenote: AT MR. SCRAGG'S.]

"Good evenin--the same to you, Bobby--are you lookin for lodgins to-night?" said he in reply.

"Well, not exzackly--I came with a friend o' mine to take a look at the Crib--have you many lodgers to-night, Jack?"

"Mayhap a matter o' fifty or more. So you wants to look at the Crib, do ye? Well, I ha' no hobjections so as ye don't disturb my lodgers. They are a precious set o' lambs, and belong to the best families in the Kingdom, so I keeps heverythink quiet, sort a like, as they have a great deal a money bet on the races at the Darby, to-morrow."

"Could you give my friend a bed, to-night, and he'll pay you well. He doesn't want to go back to his hotel it's so far at the West End, and he might lose hiself in this big city.

"Give yer friend a bed? D----n my heyes, I should think I could! A dozen beds if he likes--and yourself, too, me hearty."

"But no pocket-picking, Jack--no 'plant' agin him. Keep hoff yer 'Bug-hunters,' or ye'll get in trouble for it, Jack."

"Do I look like a man 'ud permit sich goings on in my 'Ouse," said Damnable Jack, indignantly, and looking with an injured face at the policeman, "Wot, in my 'ouse, vich is patronized by the Nobility and Gentry? I hopes not. Ye'll not find a man or woman 'ere as would 'crack a case', or 'break a drum,' and the 'Kidsmen' are, all on them, as perlite as young Swells, they is, on me 'onor."

I followed Mr. Scragg through an unpaved hall-way or passage, and into a small court, from which the lodging house keeper diverged to the right, and knocking at a door in an extension of the main building, it was opened to us, and we entered the apartment. The apartment had a low roof, and the stench from the place was most terrible. In a room about fifty feet long by thirty in width, at least sixty persons were sleeping, or sitting up on their coarse, common flock beds, some smoking, others eating and drinking, and a few were playing cards.

There was a high, old-fashioned fireplace, in the apartment, without coals, and the walls of plaster were very dirty, and broken in many places, showing the bare laths.

Prints of highwaymen adorned the walls, among which was conspicuous Claude Duval leaping a five-barred gate on horseback, and a posse of constables, in bobwigs, in full chase. There was also a daub of paint representing the execution of a wife-murderer, at Newgate, and a copy of the murderer's last speech, framed alongside of the other print. These, with a cheap engraving of Sir Robert Peel, completed the list of works of art in the place.

There was a murmur which grew into quite a hub-bub as I entered the apartment, and not a few of the lodgers vented their surprise or disgust at my appearance, jointly with that of the "Peeler," as they called the policeman.

[Sidenote: THE DIRTY CADGER.]

"Wot the blazes does that Swell want in 'ere," said an old cadger, who was reclining on a bed on the floor, trimming his toe-nails with a jack-knife preparatory to going to bed, much to the edification of a young girl who sat by his side on the bed, and could not have been more than fifteen years of age.

"Mebbe he's a swell pickpocket, or fogle-hunter (handkerchief thief,)" said the innocent young creature.

"Hit stands to reason he can't be a fogle hunter, 'cos he's with the blessed Peeler," said the Cadger.

"Well, mebbe he's wiring for the perlice," said the young girl, "and wants to ketch some on us for a 'dummy.'"

"Never mind, Moll, he doesn't want us, and we'll go to sleep, cos we've got to be on the tramp, early in the morning, for the Darby."

This man was forty years of age, and the young girl, not more than fifteen years old, was his mistress, as I afterward learned.

The policeman signified to the proprietor, "Damnable Jack," that he wanted to get a bed where we might sleep together for the night.

"I hardly got a bed left but one and ye's are welcome to it, and for that matter it will hold five men and women, if I wanted to put 'em in it. Come here Phil, and give these gents a bed--they wants to taste the blessed sweets of lodgin house life. Give them their fill of it. Put them in the 'Lord Chancellor's' bed. Its the best in the house."

Let it be understood, that all the beds in the apartment were placed upon the bare floor, and that the mattresses were filled with dirty straw, which bulged out of their sides, or rags, and gave the room a close, fetid odor. For covering, there were dirty canvass quilts, made of the same stuff from which sails or potato sacks are fashioned. There were no sheets whatever, and the pillows and bolsters were stuffed as were the mattresses with rags or straw.

Near the fireplace was a bare space of smoothly laid brick, without any pretence of bedding at all, which was chalked out in a number of compartments, and each of these compartments was chalked out for a human being to sleep upon. By reposing on the bare, cold floor, the lodger saved a penny and got his bed for three-pence instead of four-pence.

Among the sixty persons present, there were at least twenty-five women, composed of female tramps, vagrants, prostitutes, coster-girls, and peddlers of different kinds of commodities, which they had to leave in an adjoining room that was locked up by the Deputy Lodging Master until the time of leaving their beds early in the morning, when the merchandise was delivered to its owners.

It was by the advice of an Inspector of Police that I made this essay to sleep in a cheap lodging house. He informed me that it was the only method of obtaining a clear knowledge of the habits and practices of the lodgers.

The "Lord Chancellor's" bed, as Damnable Jack called it, facetiously, was the best, from its appearance, in the room, and was at the farthest corner. It was generally used by the Deputy Lodging Master, and had a little chintz screen around it, and the bed itself, which had comparatively clean sheets and bed-furniture, was elevated a few feet from the floor on a sort of trestle work.

The charge for this bed was a shilling to each of us, and the policeman and myself laid down upon it in our clothes, the policeman having a revolver in his side pocket, upon which he kept his right hand during the night, whether he slept or had his eyes open.

I could not sleep in the terrible hole for several hours, and, in fact, did not think of doing so, as I was eager to watch the proceedings of the Scum of London, of which the lodgers were composed.

Many of the young girls had not retired when we came in, and a few of them now began to divest themselves of their clothing, without shame or compunction on their part, or surprise on the part of their fellow lodgers, excepting that now and then some low-bred ruffian would pour forth a torrent of obscenity when some of the female lodgers exposed portions of their filthy bodies.

The place was swarming with vermin, bed-bugs, roaches, and body parasites, in countless numbers, and this was one reason why many of the female lodgers stripped themselves to lie down, for some of the beds were so thickly packed that it was impossible for the Deputy Lodging Master to pass through the room without treading upon an exposed hand or foot, and in such a case, blasphemous and vile execrations were heaped upon his devoted head by the lodgers. This he bore with the greatest indifference as if he had never heard a word of it. The lodgers hoped by stripping naked to avoid having any of the vermin cling to their clothing--a wise precaution, as I found.

[Sidenote: THE SCUM OF LONDON.]

Men, women, and children, without regard to age, sex, condition, or kindred, slept together in this room, and as the night advanced the stench from their hot, loathsome bodies, rose like a hellish incense and nearly smothered me with its fumes. There the breath of each lodger was worse than the odor of a charnel house, so that I deemed it a wonder as I sat up in bed looking through a rent in the chintz curtain which enclosed our bed, a lamp burning faintly on a table the while, that sixty of God's creatures could sleep this way night after night, summer and winter, and yet be able to eat, drink, sleep, marry, beget children, and still thrive like deadly nightshade, to poison London and its neighborhood with their reeking effluvia.

About three o'clock in the morning I heard a hammering, squashing sound, and looking from under the chintz curtain, I was first astonished and then disgusted to see a wan-looking, cadaverous personage, from whom the most frightful snoring had proceeded during the early part of the night, hammering with the heel of his shoe at some dark moving objects, which he, every moment, scraped from his bed and placing them on the floor smashed at them in a raging and furious way with his shoe heel, taking care the while to keep up a steady stream of curses from his lips. He saw me looking at him and said:

"Well, neighbor, wot d'ye think of this. I pays four-pence for my bed, and here I am a-fighting to keep off the blessed bugs, for my life. I got myself gloriously drunk last night, to sleep, so that the wipers might not wake me up, but all the gin in Lunnon couldn't make a man sleep while the wermin are in the bed-clothes. I have took out and killed a bushel, more or less, of 'em, in the last half hour, but there's plenty more of 'em, Lord bless you."

This was the keystone of the edifice of my disgust. Too much of a good thing is said to be of no practical benefit to any one, and there was such a richness of bed-bugs and body parasites to be found in "Damnable Jack's" lodging house, that I thought I would not farther trouble his hospitality, and touching the guardian of the place upon the shoulder, who started up in a frightened way as if he were attacked, I left Mr. Scragg's lodgings, and took a walk in the cool morning air as far as Westminster Bridge, where I sat until daybreak, looking at the Parliament House, and the silent river with its numerous craft.

Before I left the accursed place, the policeman pointed to a pail of foul water standing in a corner, that had been fresh over night, and which had now had a thick scum on its top produced by so many poisonous lungs.

It is needless to say that I took a good warm bath early that morning, more than satisfied with my experience of the previous night.

Of this class of lodging houses, there are, in London, I believe, about seventy-five, capable of accommodating any number of lodgers that the proprietors may see fit to stow away in their dens.

Some idea may be formed of the manner in which the poorer classes of the London artisans are herded together from the fact that in the Inner Ward of St. George's Parish the number of families apportioned to the dwellings are so largely in excess of the room which they ought to occupy that all kinds of frightful distempers are common in these hell-dens. I give a table to show how human beings are crowded in this district:

Dwellings. No. of Families. | Beds. No. of Families. Single room to each family, 929 | One bed to each family, 623 Two rooms to ditto, 408 | Two " " 638 Three " " 94 | Three " " 154 Four " " 17 | Four " " 21 Five " " 8 | Five " " 8 Six " " 4 | Six " " 3 Seven " " 1 | Seven " " 1 Eight " " 1 | Dwellings without a bed, 7 Not ascertained, 3 | Not ascertained, 10 ----- | ----- 1,465 | 1,465

[Sidenote: TEN IN A BED.]

Among the most munificent philanthropists who have built model lodging houses, for the poor and needy, I may enumerate Miss Burdett Coutts, and George Peabody. The former has expended nearly £500,000 in erecting model lodging houses for the poor, and the amount which was donated for the same purpose by Mr. Peabody exceeded a million and a half of dollars.

In speaking of Mr. Peabody, I must not omit to state the fact that the Londoners, to show their appreciation of his philanthropy, have erected to him a magnificent bronze statue at the rear of the Royal Exchange in their city, which was publicly uncovered by the Prince of Wales during the life-time of the late philanthropist.