The Mysteries of London, v. 3/4

by George W. M. Reynolds

"Yes—and the poor old creature has been sent to quod by the beaks at Hicks's Hall, till she finds sureties for her good behaviour in future," was the reply.

"What—is that the Mother Oliver you mean, as kept the brothel in Little Sutton Street, t'other side of the Goswell Road there?" demanded a man, desisting from his occupation of smoking, for a few moments, while he asked the question.

"To be sure it is," returned the female, who had previously spoken; "and a bad thing it is for me, I can tell you. I was servant there—and a good living it were. But I'll tell you how it all come about. It was a matter of six or seven weeks ago that a young feller came to the house, quite on his own accord, as you may suppose; and he stayed there three whole days, for he was quite struck, as one may say, with a fair-haired gal which had been lodging with us for some time. Well, he orders every thing of the best, promising to pay all in a lump; and so Mother Oliver gives him tick, like a fool as she was. But at last she wanted to see the colour of his money; and then he bullied, and swore, and kicked up a row, and went away without paying a mag. Well, the debt was given up as a bad job, and we thought no more about it, till we heard a few days afterwards that the house was to be indicted. So off Mother Oliver goes to the Clerk of the Peace: but, lo and behold ye! the young gentleman was a clerk in his office; and not content with reglarly robbing the poor old o'oman, he must try and ruin her into the bargain. Mother Oliver got to see the Clerk of the Peace, and began to tell him all about the trick his young man had played her; but he said he knowed every thing already, that she had enticed the young feller into her house, and that was the reason she was to be indicted. So the thing come on yesterday before the Middlesex magistrates at Hicks's Hall, and Mother Oliver was sent to gaol."

"There's been a reglar rooting out of them kind of cribs all over the parish," observed one of the company; "and it's the same in a many other parishes."

"Yes: but I'll tell you what it is," exclaimed the woman who had related the above particulars; "it's only against the poor sort of houses that these prosecutions is ever got up. Lord bless you! before I went to Mother Oliver's, I was servant in a flash brothel at the West-End—a reglar slap-up place—beautifully furnished, and frequented by all the first folks. It was kept—and still is kept—by a Frenchwoman. I was there as under-housemaid for a matter of seven year; and should have been there till now, only I was too fond of taking a drop the first thing in the morning, to keep the dust out in summer and the cold out in winter."

"Ah—I des say you was always a lushing jade, Sally," observed an individual in his shirt-sleeves, and who seemed to know the woman well.

"Well, old feller—and what then?" cried she, for a moment manifesting a strong inclination to draw her finger-nails down the cheeks of her acquaintance: but, calming her anger, she said, "It don't matter what comes from your lips—so I shan't be perwoked by you. Howsomever, as I was telling you, I was servant in the flash house at the West-End for upward of seven years; and such scenes as I saw! The old Frenchwoman used to entice the most respectable gals there by means of advertisements for governesses, ladies-maids, and so on; and they was kept prisoners till they either agreed to what she proposed, or was forced into it by the noblemen and gentlemen frequenting the place. And all this occurred, I can assure you, in one of the fashion-ablest streets in London. But there was never no notice taken by the parish-authorities; and as for the Society—what's its name again?—that prosecutes bad houses, it didn't seem to know there was such a brothel in existence. And I'll tell you how that was, too. The Frenchwoman gave such general satisfaction to her customers, and was always treating them to such novelties in the shape of gals, that she was protected by all the gay noblemen and gentlemen at the West-End. Lord bless you! some of her best customers was the Middlesex magistrates themselves; and two or three of the noblemen and gentlemen that I spoke of, was members of the Committee of that very Society which prosecutes brothels. So it wasn't likely that the house would ever be interfered with. I recollect the old Frenchwoman used to laugh and joke with the great Lords and the Members of the Commons that patronised her, about the way they talked in the Parliament Houses, and the bother they made about the better observance of the Sabbath, and so on. It used to be rare fun to hear the old lady, in her broken English, repeating to them some of their fine speeches, which she'd read in the newspapers; and how the gals used to laugh with them, to be sure!"

"You don't mean to say that them Lords and Members, which is always a-going on about the Sabbath, used to frequent the brothel you speak of?" exclaimed a man.

"Don't I, though?" cried the woman, in a tone of indignation at the bare suspicion against her veracity implied by the question: "I do indeed, my man; and I should think you ought to know the world better than to be astonished at it. It was through having the patronage of all them great people, that the old Frenchwoman never got into trouble. But none of the fine brothels at the West-End are ever prosecuted: no one would think of such a thing! It's only the low ones in the poor neighbourhoods."

"Well, I always heard say that poverty is the greatest possible crime in this country," observed the man who had recently spoken; "and now I'm convinced on it."