London's Underworld

Thomas Holmes

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pubOne.info present you this new edition. I am hopeful that some of the experiences given in the following chapters may throw a little light upon some curious but very serious social problems. Corporate humanity always has had, and always will have, serious problems to consider.

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• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 06 novembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819932178
• Langue: English

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LONDON'S UNDERWORLD
by Thomas Holmes
(Secretary of the Howard Association)
1912
PREFACE
I am hopeful that some of the experiences given inthe following chapters may throw a little light upon some curiousbut very serious social problems. Corporate humanity always hashad, and always will have, serious problems to consider.
The more civilised we become the more complex andserious will be our problems— unless sensible and merciful yetthorough methods are adopted for dealing with the evils. I thinkthat my pages will show that the methods now in use for coping withsome of our great evils do not lessen, but considerably increasethe evils they seek to cure.
With great diffidence I venture to point out what Iconceive to be reasons for failure, and also to offer somesuggestions that, if adopted, will, I believe, greatly minimise, ifnot remove, certain evils.
I make no claim to prophetic wisdom; I know no royalroad to social salvation, nor of any specific to cure all humansorrow and smart.
But I have had a lengthened and unique experience. Ihave closely observed, and I have deeply pondered. I have seen,therefore I ask that the experiences narrated, the statements made,and the views expressed in this book may receive earnestconsideration, not only from those who have the temerity to readit, but serious consideration also from our Statesmen and localauthorities, from our Churches and philanthropists, from our men ofbusiness and from men of the world.
For truly we are all deeply concerned in the variousmatters which are dealt with in “London's Underworld. ”
THOMAS HOLMES.
12, Bedford Road,
Tottenham, N.
LONDON'S UNDERWORLD
CHAPTER I. MY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES
The odds and ends of humanity, so plentiful inLondon's great city, have for many years largely constituted mycircle of friends and acquaintances.
They are strange people, for each of them is, orwas, possessed of some dominating vice, passion, whim or weaknesswhich made him incapable of fulfilling the ordinary duties ofrespectable citizenship.
They had all descended from the Upper World, to liveout strange lives, or die early deaths in the mysterious but allpervading world below the line.
Some of them I saw, as it were, for a moment only;suddenly out of the darkness they burst upon me; suddenly thedarkness again received them out of my sight.
But our acquaintance was of sufficient duration toallow me to acquire some knowledge, and to gain some experience oflives more than strange, and of characters far removed from theordinary.
But with others I spent many hours, months, or yearsas circumstances warranted, or as opportunities permitted. Some ofthem became my intimates; and though seven long years have passedsince I gave up police-court duties, our friendship bears the testof time, for they remain my friends and acquaintances still.
But some have passed away, and others are passing;one by one my list of friends grows less, and were it not that I,even now, pick up a new friend or two, I should run the risk ofbeing a lonely old man. Let me confess, however, that my friendshave brought me many worries, have caused me much disappointment,have often made me very angry. Sometimes, I must own, they havecaused me real sorrow and occasionally feelings of utter despair.But I have had my compensations, we have had our happy times, wehave even known our merry moments.
Though pathos has permeated all our intercourse,humour and comedy have never been far away; though sometimestragedy has been in waiting.
But over one and all of my friends hung a greatmystery, a mystery that always puzzled and sometimes paralysed me,a mystery that always set me to thinking.
Now many of my friends were decent and good-heartedfellows; yet they were outcasts. Others were intelligent, cleverand even industrious, quite capable of holding their own withrespectable men, still they were helpless.
Others were fastidiously honest in some things, yetthey were persistent rogues who could not see the wrong or folly ofdishonesty; many of them were clear-headed in ninety-ninedirections, but in the hundredth they were muddled if not mentallyblind.
Others had known and appreciated the comforts ofrefined life, yet they were happy and content amidst the horror anddirt of a common lodging-house! Why was it that these fellowsfailed, and were content to fail in life?
What is that little undiscovered something thatdetermines their lives and drives them from respectablesociety?
What compensations do they get for all the sufferingand privations they undergo? I don't know! I wish that I did! butthese things I have never been able to discover.
Many times I have put the questions to myself; manytimes I have put the questions to my friends, who appear to knowabout as much and just as little upon the matter as myself.
They do not realise that in reality they do differfrom ordinary citizens; I realise the difference, but can find noreason for it.
No! it is not drink, although a few of them weredipsomaniacs, for generally they were sober men.
I will own my ignorance, and say that I do not knowwhat that little something is that makes a man into a criminalinstead of constituting him into a hero. This I do know: that butfor the possession of a little something, many of my friends, nowhomeless save when they are in prison, would be performing life'sduties in settled and comfortable homes, and would be quite asestimable citizens as ordinary people.
Probably they would prove better citizens than themajority of people, for while they possess some inherent weakness,they also possess in a great degree many estimable qualities whichare of little use in their present life.
These friends of mine not only visit my office andinvade my home, but they turn up at all sorts of inconvenient timesand places. — There is my friend the dipsomaniac, the pocketHercules, the man of brain and iron constitution.
Year after year he holds on to his own strangecourse, neither poverty nor prison, delirium tremens nor physicalinjuries serve to alter him. He occupies a front seat at a men'smeeting on Sunday afternoon when the bills announce my name. But hecomes half drunk and in a talkative mood, sometimes in acontradictory mood, but generally good tempered. He punctuates myspeech with a loud and emphatic “Hear! hear! ” and often informsthe audience that “what Mr. Holmes says is quite true! ” Theattendants cannot keep him silent, he tells them that he is myfriend; he makes some claim to being my patron.
Poor fellow! I speak to him kindly, butincontinently give him the slip, for I retire by a back way,leaving him to argue my disappearance in no friendly spirit withthe attendants. Yet I have spent many happy hours with him when, assometimes happened, he was “in his right mind. ”
I, would like to dwell on the wonders of this man'sstrange and fearsome life, but I hasten on to tell of a contrast,for my friends present many contrasts.
I was hurrying down crowded Bishopsgate at lunchtime, lost in thought, when I felt my hand grasped and a well-knownvoice say, “Why! Mr. Holmes, don't you know me? ”
Know him! I should think I do know him; I am proudto know him, for I venerate him. He is only a french polisher andby no means handsome, his face is furrowed and seamed by care andsorrow, his hands and clothing are stained with varnish. Truly heis not much to look at, but if any one wants an embodiment of pluckand devotion, of never-failing patience and magnificent love, in myfriend you shall find it!
Born in the slums, he sold matches at seven years ofage; at eight he was in an industrial school; his father was dead,his mother a drunkard; home he had none!
Leaving school at sixteen he became first agardener's assistant, then a gentleman's servant; in thisoccupation he saved some money with which he apprenticed himself tofrench polishing. From apprentice to journeyman, from journeyman tobusiness on his own account, were successive steps; he married, andthat brought him among my many acquaintances.
He had a nice home, and two beautiful children, andthen that great destroyer of home life, drink! had to be reckonedwith. So he came to consult me. She was a beautiful and culturedwoman and full of remorse.
The stained hands of the french polisher trembled ashe signed a document by which he agreed to pay L1 per week for hiswife's maintenance in an inebriate home for twelve months where shemight have her babe with her. Bravely he did his part, and at theend of the year he brought her back to a new and better home, wherethe neighbours knew nothing of her past.
For twelve months there was joy in the home, andthen a new life came into it; but with the babe came a relapse; thevarnish-stained man was again at his wits' end. Once more sheentered a home, for another year he worked and toiled to pay thecharges, and again he provided a new home. And she came back to ahouse that he had bought for her in a new neighbourhood; they nowlived close to me, and my house was open to them. The story of thefollowing years cannot be told, for she almost ruined him. Nightafter night after putting the children to bed, he searched thestreets and public-houses for her; sometimes I went with him. Shepawned his clothes, the children's clothing, and even the boy'sfiddle. He cleaned the house, he cooked the food, he cared for thechildren, he even washed and ironed their clothing on Saturdayevening for the coming Sunday. He marked all the clothing, hewarned all the pawnbrokers. At length he obtained a separationorder, but tearing it up he again took her home with him. She wentfrom bad to worse; even down to the deepest depths and thence to arescue home. He fetched her out, and they disappeared from myneighbourhood.
So I lost them and often wondered what the end hadbeen. To-day he was smiling; he had with him a youth of twenty, ascholarship boy, the violinist. He said, “I am just going to payfor his passage to Canada; he is going to