Saturday, 27 February 2010

The Ways of Sin

Just been looking at a great piece of religious prostitution-reform literature, as you do, entitled rather marvellously "THE LONDON BY MOONLIGHT MISSION: Being an account of midnight cruises on the streets of London" (1869), describing a charity's efforts, under the leadership of one Lieutenant Blackmore, to get prostitutes off the streets. Unfortunately, not as racy as it sounds ... here's a sample of the dialogue:

    After asking the Divine blessing - in company with three Christian friends, I sallied forth down Gray's-inn-lane, about ten in the evening, each of us supplied with suitable tracts for distribution; which, in addition to religious instruction, had my address printed upon them, with an appeal to females, if they wished to quit the ways of sin, to call upon me. These were enclosed in envelopes, thus presenting the appearance of a letter, a form in which they are more readily accepted.
    The route proposed for the evening was Holborn-hill, Fleet-street, the Strand, Regent-street, Oxford-street and Tottenham-court-road. Each side of the street was to be occupied by two of our party, the whole meeting again at points agreed upon.
    The tracts and notes were well received in Gray's-inn-lane. I could not help pitying those whom, by their dress and manner, I knew to be fallen ones; and I earnestly asked my Heavenly Father that he would make us the honoured instruments in his hands to rescue some. On arriving in Holborn, I was accosted by many young women; one of them, with the affected gaiety of her unhappy class, asked me, as I gave her one of the notes, whether it was a love letter. I replied: "Yes: keep it and read it tomorrow."
    When we came to the bottom of Holborn-hill, I was accosted by an interesting your girl, dressed in a superior style. I gave her a note.
    "What is this for?" she said.
    "To invite you to a happy home, until you can get into a situation suited to your ability."
    On enquiry, I found that she had no father nor mother, nor any friend in London. Turning round to the gentleman who accompanied me, she asked "Is he come for the same purpose as yourself?"
    "Yes, and I am expecting two friends directly. We mean what we say. Our wish is to do you good."
    She was struck with astonishment. "Four gentlemen come to seek after poor friendless girls! It is very good of you: I will call, with thanks."
    Degraded as she was, I shook hands with her, and we parted.

The book is available on Google. In large part, it contains first person stories about 'seduction' (ie. being lured into having sex by a man, losing one's job or standing as a result, and being driven to prostitution). These seem rather clichéd but clichés are often true. One wonders, however, if every girl was quite the innocent victim of male lust as portrayed, or whether this was the moral framework in which girls had to present themselves if they wanted to be 'saved'. There is also an episode in which the author separates a dress-lodger from her chaperon by disguising her as a young man:

    "Come away from this degradation!" I said. "I will take you to a comfortable home this very night; where you can reflect quietly on the future, and I will see what can be done."
    "I cannot!" she replied. "Look at that woman there! I dare not come away; but I thank you very much."
    "I suppose they will bring a long bill against you if I ask for your release."
She only sighed. After reflecting a few moments, a thought suddenly occurred to me.
    "Would you mind adopting a disguise?" I said.
    "I will gladly do anything to effect my escape from that loathsome woman."
    "Well, then, I think I can manage it; I will go to a clothier's shop I know in Oxford-street, and purchase a suit, as if for myself. You are about my height. We will then go to the housa ; you shall put them on, and come away with me in disguise."
    Her faced seemed radiant with delight at the prospect of escape, which gave me courage. We then walked up to her "keeper."
    "It's getting late," I said. "Let's take a cab. But first of all I'll just go in to Oxford-street, to see if some clothes are ready for me ; and then we'll all go home together."
    In a few minutes we arrived at the shop. Leaving them in the cab, I went in and bought what I required, and returned. We then drove off to the house; on arriving at which I was ushered into the drawing-room, where I waited till the young lady had changed her attire. On her return the disguise proved excellent. I happened to have my Turkish cap in my pocket; this I placed on her head—the long tassel of which partly concealed her face; a cloak, with the collar turned up, completed the metamorphosis. The difficulty that now remained was to pass the street door without being detected. It was arranged, in case of necessity, that I should speak for both. But the Turkish cap and cloak gave her so much the appearance of a young foreigner, that the mother tongue could scarcely be expected of him. She took my arm; and we quickly descended the stairs, at the foot of which, however, we encountered the "keeper. My companion now trembled so much, that I was fearful lest she should faint.
    The critical moment had arrived, when discovery would have been fatal to the whole project. I was able, however, to preserve my self-possession; and knowing the cupidity of the inmates of these houses of iniquity, I gave the woman a considerable sum of money, explaining that the foreigner on my arm was a young friend I had just met with. The money, as I anticipated, blinded the eyes of the "keeper," who nodded in assent of what I said. As she turned up stairs, where discovery awaited her, we hurried along the hall, and reached the street without further obstruction. A few moments more, and we were in the cab I had ordered to be in waiting for us.
    "Drive to Portman-square with all your might! "
This smacks of a cheap novel. Perhaps I am being too skeptical, but I can't help but wonder if the Lieutenant sexed-up (ahem) his activities for an eager readership - he did, after all, need their money to continue his charity work. Unequivocally, however, it should be noted that widespread street-prostitution was a fact in mid-Victorian London, and that - despite the quaint language ("ways of sin" etc) - any attempt to bring girls to homes and 'reform' them (however you describe it) was something of a progressive step.

I am, to my shame, also reminded of a certain (not very) classic film. Michael Palin has a lot to answer for.

Thursday, 25 February 2010

A Hundred Years Hence, Past



Victorian futurology always fascinates me. Just came across a great article from the popular magazine, the Leisure Hour, written in 1857, forseeing 'London: A Hundred Years Hence'.

Like many predictions about the future, it really dwells on the pre-occupations of the time. Hence, in London topography, the author foresees the Embankment (built within ten years of the article), the spread of London to "Kew and Hammersmith ... Lewisham and Blackheath ... Woolwich and Blackwall" (happened within the next few decades) and the widening of the Strand (achieved with the Aldwych developments in 1900).

The general tone of the article is utopian - improvements in technology and physical conditions lead to diminished crime and less class difference. But there's also a bit of technological prediction - based on the telegraph - which, as often the case with the telegraph, foreshadows the internet:

"I observed that from each of these district shops innumerable electric wires branched off in all directions, communicating with several houses in the district to which it belonged. Thus, no sooner did a house-keeper stand in need of any article than she could despatch the order instantaneously along the wire, and receive the goods by the very first railway carriage that happened to pass the store. Thus, she saved her time, and she lost no money, because all chaffering and cheapening, and that fencing between buyer and seller, which was once deemed a pleasure, had been long voted a disgraceful, demoralizing nuisance, and was done away with. The electric wires ran along the fronts of the houses near the upper stories, crossing the streets at an elevation at which they were scarcely visible from below; and I noticed that the dwellings of friends, kindred, and intimates were thus banded together, not only throughout the whole vast city, but even far out into the provinces, and, in cases where the parties were wealthy, to the uttermost limits of the realm. "
Read the full article here.

Tuesday, 23 February 2010

Some other ideas

Elsewhere, the author contemplates the value of giving literary advice ...

Monday, 22 February 2010

To the Isle of Dogs

Just discovered a lovely piece of travel journalism by the writer Richard Rowe, from 1876 - a journey to the Isle of Dogs. It captures the grime of the East End and the isolated peculiarity of 'Isle' which remains to this day. Here's an excerpt on the East End seen from the railway (which now forms the Docklands Light Railway - you can still see elements of this panorama) and here's where you'll find it all online.

The glimpses the Blackwall-bound traveller catches of Rosemary-lane, Cable-street, and the Back-road are dreary enough, but those sewer-like lanes running into them are inexpressibly dismal. It is impossible to believe that their stagnant atmosphere was ever stirred and purified by a hearty, innocent laugh. How can people be happy in such holes? As to being virtuous, it seems ridiculous to entertain the thought. The inhabitants crawl about like vermin, and if they prey like vermin, are they morally responsible for acting according to nature into which they have been born and bred? Of course, for its own protection, society is obliged to hold them legally responsible; but would not society's "selfishess" be more "enlightened" if it attacked the cause as well as the effect? Whilst such dwellings exist, it is natural that there should be crime as that there should be cholera. The squalid haul that the policeman drags into the police-dock from such districts affects one like the carcasses and skeletons nailed upon a gamekeeper's gable. It was necessary that the vermin should be punished, but still it seems hard that they should be punished for merely following the instincts of their kind. "Is not this great Babylon that I have built by the might of my power?" exclaimed Nebuchadnezzar, as he walked on the roof of his palace; and, for a punishment, he had to eat grass like an ox, and his nails were turned into talons. If any one man could be made accountable for the building of the greater part of our great Babylon that is seen from the Blackwall Railway, he would not be likely to boast of his achievement; but bestial appetites and rapacious claws would be fitly symbolical for the condition into which he had reduced his tenants. A tawny African desert strewn with bleaching bones would not be so depressing a spectacle as the grimy wilderness of jumbled roofs, staggering chimney-stacks, and blind or blinking windows, athwart which the Blackwall Railway cuts at the commencement of its career. The mortar in which the shattered chimney-pots stand awry is black and cracked like desiccated mud. A pall of soot is spread over the broken tiles and the crumbling rafters that peep out between. The small windows have the look of eyes clouded by cataract, or damaged in fight. Supplementary stories of slanting slate - not much bigger than middle-sized house-cisterns - have been added to tottering hovels, swarming with life, and those tanks are "family-homes!" That the trains at Stepney Junction, in a single week, should have made mangled corpses of two wretched suicides, weary of existence in Ratcliff, is a grim fact to call to mind when you roll over the rails splashed with their blood; but, save as to the mode of death selected, you can scarcely think the fact wonderful.

Friday, 19 February 2010

East End Views

Just stumbled across some great East End photographs which have been made available by Tower Hamlets Local History Library (not all Victorian but many are fascinating) here.