The Down and Out King - 12

WILLIAM

The paupers all went raving mad,

The dustmen got a prancing

While all the old women in Lambeth walk

Like devils went a dancing,

They did declare and loudly swear

The doings was most cruel

To quod the Lambeth gentlemen,

And give them water gruel

Sam and I continue with our chats about our various housemates. He is intrigued by those he calls the Ins and Outs. This is what he says about them.

“They are a remarkably troublesome group. As a rule, its members are completely worthless to themselves and to everybody else. Some of these fellows go out to a job, keep at it as long as it lasts, lay in good stores of tobacco at the end, and then spend every farthing left of their earnings in a topping spree, lasting one to three days, according to the amount received. Then they are for the workhouse, or 'spike,' which is where the casuals stay, once again! Here the blackguards recover from their debauch, and drown away the days until they are ripe for another job and another topping spree.

“Such
fellows are exceedingly provoking. They are quite shameless, laugh at the heaviest toils of the house as being, what they really are to them, the merest child's play. They stick to the place as if it were
their rightful inheritance. So, indeed, they regard it, inside and out. When his spree is over, and one of these gentry is about to seclude himself once more for the usual period, he bids adieu to his
outside cronies with the meaning explanation, 'I am going home, boys - home once more.'  The
reasons adduced by these Ins and Outs for leading this sort of life are very convincing to themselves. The workhouse is infinitely cheaper and cleaner than the common lodging-house.

“It saves their own clothing, and, when the thing becomes absolutely necessary, provides them with more. It doctors them when their malpractices result in foul diseases. And though the food is poor, it
is regular, and greatly superior, besides, to what they can hope for when out of work and depending on themselves.

“Many of them are just the fellows to insinuate themselves into the good graces of thoughtless girls of the lower classes; and precisely the lads also to take base advantage of the trust. Most of them have illegitimate children, and not a few two or three, for whom the unfortunate mothers have to provide as best they can. It is obviously useless to sue the fathers. When such a fellow finds the agents of the law at his heels, he becomes an indoor pauper incontinently, and so justice is baffled.

“There are twenty-five or thirty men of this kind in the house with us at the present moment, all exceedingly sociable and jolly in their own estimation; and in the estimation of everybody else. They are all full of fun and frolic, and as full of good stories of their own reckless doings.

“Another group are the moochers or cadgers. These fellows are inveterate beggars, and have been so time out of mind; acquainted, therefore, with all the tricks and devices of the craft to which they belong, and remarkably skilful in practising them.

“They are acquainted with the localities and regulations of every charitable institution in and about the metropolis, and with the address and personal peculiarities of every charitable individual within the same area. They are constantly laying plans and making excursions for the purpose of levying black-mail on institutions and individuals. If successful, they tell the whole story, with due exultation, on their return to the house. If they fail, they tell all the facts in precisely the same detail - giving the manager of the institution and benevolent person full credit and approval, too, for whatever keenness and dexterity they may have displayed in detecting and baffling this attempted knavery.

“Not long ago a certain great personage, in the centre of a certain great city, became extraordinarily benevolent. Every moocher that made a morning call at a certain place, and told a suitable story there, was presented with five shillings. No searching questions were put; the tale was accepted as genuine, and the money given on the spot. The news spread as such news always spreads, and, in consequence, the place where the crowns were given away was besieged every morning by
moochers, chiefly from workhouses. Many of them applied for and received the dole several times over. But a change soon took place. The great person received an addition to his name, or rather
two additions - a prefix and an affix; and immediately that this happened the five-shilling doles to moochers were discontinued, and these worthies presented, instead, when they crowded the place as usual, with orders for admission to a neighbouring casual ward. They were disappointed, of course, but in no wise discontented or angered. They treated the refusal rather as a very good joke on the part of the great personage, and thought no more of it.

“The
more usual occupation of the workhouse moocher out of doors is to haunt the taverns on weekends, attaching himself to the comrade of an absent mate. . Here he plays the parasite to the full extent of his abilities, giving coarsely amusing songs and recitations as often as called upon, and indulging in all sorts of monkey-tricks and ridiculous antics. His chief use, however, is to act as the butt of the company; and he submits to all sorts of practical jokes with unfailing patience and even good humour. Flour and red ochre sprinkled upon him, no matter how plentifully, never offend, provided they be followed by a few additional cups and coppers. When the party breaks up he attaches himself to the member thereof who is most unsteady on his legs, and carries him out of the way of his companions. He either clears the poor man's pockets himself, or assists in the operation; and when he is done with him he leaves him stretched at full length on the sideway; or even goes so far as to hand him over to the police for safety.

One particular person, Hunky,  and his family, furnished a theme to one of the house-poets - for even the workhouse contains its versifiers - and the following stanzas were the result. 

Workhouse life is dreary -

Gloomy as the grave:

Something much more cheery

Once a week I'll have.

Workhouse fare is scanty;

Workhouse fare is poor:

Something much more dainty

Hunky must secure.

Oh, the joys of cadging,

Wife and kids at heels,

No one can imagine

Save the bloke that feels.

Once a week we cut it

From the workhouse gate;

Then we gaily foot it

In our robes of state.

Kids in garments tattered,

Hunky with a tile,

Like himself, much battered,

And his constant smile.

Oh, the joys, etc.

Round and round we trudge it,

Careless of what haps;

Filling up our budget

With all sorts of scraps.

Coppers, too, we gather

In our worn-out hats;

Coppers all for father,

Scraps for wife and brats.

Oh, the joys, etc.

Not when sunshine glows, sirs,

Do I like my task;

Hail, or rain, or snow, sirs

That is what I ask.

Charity is ever

Warmer when the brats

And their parents shiver,

Like half-drowned rats.

Oh, the joys of cadging,

Wife and kids at heels,

No one can imagine

Save the bloke that feels.

“Another section of the Ins and Outs is composed of professional thieves. These are fellows at the bottom of their profession, as a rule - low footpads who waylay children, and rob them of their school-pence - who snatch articles from passing carts, or who raid on street-stalls or on the displays in front of shops. Such fellows take to the house from various motives.

“Now and again they come in to get out of the way of the police, and remain until a hint is conveyed to them that the coast is clear, and search after them discontinued. Still more frequently, however, they enter because work has become very bad with them.  Thieves haunt the same localities, from the beginning of their career to the end.   It contains their favourite taps; and it is the beat of officers with whom they are familiar, and whom they know how to 'square' or avoid in cases of emergency. Moreover, they are hand and glove with all its fences, and are perfectly acquainted, as it were by instinct, with all its usages.

“Cessation of business from time to time is as essential to this personage as to his victims, who are chiefly the tradesmen of the quarter. The latter very soon learn, to their cost, when one of these fellows is at large and at work, and naturally take measures for frustrating his efforts, or, better still, for trapping himself. It is then that times become hard with him; and if not caught and committed to prison at once, he betakes him to the workhouse for a period.

“Of all the Ins and Outs, decidedly the most degraded are the men who subsist by fastening upon street-harlots and sharing their wretched earnings. They are all sturdy fellows, with a good deal of thepugilist, but much more of the sneak, in them - just the ones to bully a weakling or batter a drunken victim out of all recognition. When their mistresses come to grief and are placed under lock and key, which happens frequently, the 'fancy man' generally manages to skulk out of the mischief and escape scot-free. But as such a fellow never did an honest day's work in his life, and never means to, and as besides he has no friends, but is contemned and shunned by even the thief who has any self-respect, he has nothing for it but to take shelter in the house while the woman remains a prisoner. He takes good care, however, to discharge himself so as to meet her at the prison-door on the morning of her release.

“The Ins and Outs chatter - and they are always chattering - is loose at all times, and infamous - often hideously infamous. It is never so wicked, however, as after they go to bed, and, the
dormitory-doors being locked, the paupers are left to themselves for the night. Then hours upon hours are whiled away by themselves and their companions, the former in recounting vile stories, and the latter in marking, learning, and inwardly digesting what they hear.

“In some respects the origin of the Ins and Outs may be readily explained. There are men here who fought against indoor pauperism at the outset, as though they were contending against death itself, and did not enter until they were at the last gasp. However, the plunge once made over the workhouse threshold, it effaced much of the fine feelings which stimulated them to abstain from taking shelter therein; and a stay of a few weeks within goes far towards effacing all the rest.

“Suppose the man to go out soon afterwards and obtain employment, he may resume his place in society, but he is no longer the same individual. The next time difficulties arise, his thoughts naturally suggest the workhouse as the best refuge. He has little shame to deter him from
entering it this time, and manifests small reluctance in doing so. It is easier, he finds, to become an indoor pauper than to undergo privations and hardships. So it goes on with him. On each fresh
occasion he goes to the relieving officer with smaller cause than before, until, ere long, he becomes a confirmed and hopeless In and Out.”