Glimpses into the Abyss

by Mary Higgs

A female lodging-house (next door to a men's lodging-house) looked clean and respectable, although through the open door we caught a glimpse of a girl who was dressing, and who attracted some attention from passers-by by her condition of half-undress. We paid sixpence each, and secured two beds in the same room. We then were "free of the house," which consisted of a long passage leading to a small kitchen. Leading from the passage was a front parlour occupied by the "deputy" and her husband, a larger dining-room furnished as usual with tables and forms, and a door leading to a yard with sanitary conveniences. A stairway with oak balustrading led above; a door which could be locked had been placed at the bottom, and no one was allowed upstairs till they went to bed—a good precaution for cleanliness and decency.

In the kitchen there was a fire, and hot water in a boiler by the side. A couple of tables and two forms, accommodating each about four people, were the only furniture besides a rack in the wall and some shelves filled with hats and other clothes. There was no room for more, as a small sink with hot and cold water occupied the corner by the fire. There were a few pots in much request, and two large tins. These formed the only apparatus for washing of all kinds. We saw them used overnight for bathing the feet, etc., one girl washing her feet in them; we knew they were used for washing clothes, and we saw them full of dirty pots in the morning. As we heard the state of one girl alluded to as contagious, "but she won't go to hospital," it is easy to be imagined that we could not bring ourselves to eat and drink there. Nor did we consider it safe to use any sanitary convenience except upstairs, for it was easy to see the character of the house. We sat on the form in the kitchen for nearly an hour, while the girl we had seen made her elaborate toilet. She had a most severe cough, and could hardly speak, yet she sat, often in full view of the front door, in a low chemise and skirt, both of good quality if they had only been clean, which they were not. She had finished her washing process, but there were many others. She powdered her face and breast, she rouged herself with great care (being chaffed meanwhile by some of her companions), she burnt a match and blackened her eyebrows, and then by slow degrees she did her hair in numerous rolls, finishing up by curling the little ends and putting a net over all. Then, after some discussion as to which hat suited her (apparently hats, though they had owners, were common property), she put on first a very thin muslin blouse with a hole at the shoulder, then a clean skirt and a costume skirt and jacket (the latter very open at the neck), and finally the selected hat. She looked, when thus disguised, a handsome young woman, but her face was really thin and wan, and it was almost death to her to go out, as she did, into the cold night air with only a thin tie to protect her chest. She returned in the morning, saying she had been at the C—— Hotel all night, and had been drinking all the time, and had not slept at all. She looked very weary, and rolled up some clothes and lay full length on a form to attempt to sleep. She could not long survive such a life. One girl had died the previous week there.

While her long toilet was taking place, a succession of girls entered, most of them going out again after a brief rest. The first, who sat by me and told her story, was not, as yet, on the streets.[119] She had been sent when five years old to an orphanage, and from that to a laundry home, where she had received a good education, and from which she got a good situation. She was not strong, however, and, becoming anæmic, was sent to hospital. There she was questioned as to her parents, whom she had not seen for years, and sent, when discharged, to the town where they lived to seek for them. She found her mother living in sin with another man, by whom she had children. Her father was a drunkard, who had been many times convicted; he lived with her sister in lodgings. She clung to him as her own, and all the right feelings cultured in her gave intensity to her affection for her long-lost father. He kicked and ill-used her, but promised amendment. He broke out again, and had that morning been sent down for a month. She had nowhere to go. Her sister was cold to her and to her father; probably she took after her mother, and had reason enough not to love her father, who had, however, in his way looked after her. She was working and could support herself, but this poor girl was stranded. Her one cry was that she must meet her father when he came from prison; she was sure he would do better. She had no money, and feared she should have to walk the streets. I paid her lodging, and one or two of the girls gave her a little food. She said she intended next morning to seek work in a laundry. We urged her, if she did not obtain it, to go to a relief agency we knew, and she seemed quite willing to do so, and a woman present also recommended it. She was in the same mind the next morning, so I hoped she would do so, as she did not seem to wish to drift to evil. Her father, bad as he was through drink, was not bad in that way. Her mother was a thoroughly immoral woman. This girl, well intentioned and well brought up, but feeble in health, ought never to have drifted to such a place.

I have before had occasion to notice the harm done by hospital authorities in sending friendless girls, without sufficient enquiry (or even though knowing they are quite friendless), back to their native town. Girls such as this should be passed on to some agency that would "mother" them. It is easy to see how a little indecision, and the pressure of hunger, might anchor a girl to sin.[120] For most of those who entered were openly leading a life of shame. Girl after girl came in, rested, and went out. We learnt their "by-names," and those of others. "Red Jinny," distinguished from "Scotch Jinny" and other Jinnies, was living with a companion in prostitution.

The pathetic history of a young woman who began her toilet by having a foot-bath (in one of the tins), her legs being swollen with varicose veins, will illustrate this life. She had a good home, a kind and strict father. The way home was always open to her, for her parents had not the slightest idea she was living in sin. They thought she was in service. She had actually been home over the week-end, and thoroughly enjoyed herself, going on Sunday to church and Sunday school. ("I wish I was as good!" sighed one when she heard it.) Yet for two or three years she had really led the life of a prostitute. Her history was a sad one. She kept company five years, and then her young man betrayed her. She managed to conceal this from her parents, and in order to maintain her baby she went on the streets. For two and a half years she lived with a prostitute friend, and worked and struggled for her little one, coming home one day to find her scalded and her companion "blind drunk." However, the child survived, only to perish of bronchitis and pneumonia. Her mother had worked for her and clothed her with her own fingers, making all her clothes herself. She was clever, for as she talked she unpicked a hat and twisted and turned it to new account. After her child died she left her companion—or was deserted by her—and now for some months she had been living here, except for home visits. She found it hard to get out of "the life," because she had kept up the deception that she was entangled in. "Her father would die" if he knew she was in such a place! But he must get to know in the long run unless she got out of "the life." Already she had been twice in the hands of the police—once for drink, and once for accosting. The second time she got off for "first offence." She gave an assumed name and paid the fine, but next time she would have to "go down." We got a good opportunity to press her to go where we knew she would find friends, as she was the only one in bed in our room by twelve o'clock. She did not go out because of a superstitious feeling that "something was going to happen," which, she said, had also preceded her being taken up. She said she wished she was at home in her own good bed, which was always kept for her; that she was getting to drink and swear, and this life would soon kill her. We placed before her as strongly as we could the path to safety, and urged her to struggle free for the sake of father and child. It made one long to go and live continuously with these girls, gradually acquiring influence, and being able to speak to them as a Christian woman, and save them from the web in which they were entangled. Such work would be difficult and delicate, for it would be necessary to live quietly, maintaining oneself among them and acting by character, not by profession.

But surely something more is possible. There should be large, well-ventilated, well-provided women's lodging houses, open even to the prostitute, but under the care of wise, motherly women. Here it was impossible for a girl even to keep her own property; there was not a locker or any place to put anything away. Girls slept with their hats on their beds for security. Everything was "borrowed" or "made off with." A little care would keep a decent girl steady and safe, and bring many a wanderer back to goodness. Here everything tended to demoralisation. The sanitary arrangements were deficient. I cannot defend the shameless toilet in full view of an open door to the street, which we saw repeated, even to half-nudity, several times over. But this kitchen was the only place in which to wash and dress, and the door must needs be open. The constant talk was filthy—not on the part of all, but on that of many—and the life most were leading not in the least disguised. The more successful girls were sometimes out all night. Two or three came in very drunk and were piloted to bed by friends. Shameless expressions which cannot be repeated were used with regard to actions which decency conceals. Yet listening were other girls not so far gone in sin.

A young girl in a shawl, hardly more than a child, came in apparently on an errand, and stayed some time. She was asked if she was going to "mash for a quid." An old woman called "Old Mackintosh," from her wearing a long mackintosh cloak, and also affectionately called "Ma," was apparently the sport of the girls, and yet regarded with a sort of affection. They teased her and stole her things, and even hit her. She had a bad temper, and scolded, which afforded them amusement; but if they went too far they made it up by embracing her. Poor woman! I fear drink was her trouble. They said she had hardly anything under her cloak. She seemed ravenously hungry, and how she got her living I don't know. One or two elderly women were apparently not prostitutes, but earned money by cleaning. It was, however, rather difficult to settle how they lived. One woman was very coarse and fat, with an ugly scar on her shoulder, which she exhibited in the morning when she indulged in the luxury of "a good wash," but was not clean. She put on a ragged bodice, the silk of which was hanging in shreds, and which had a big hole under the arm showing a great patch of bare flesh; yet over all she put a most respectable cloak, and a bonnet that would have done credit to a Quaker. I was astonished to see her emerge as almost a lady! Evidently the "clothes philosophy" is well understood in Slumdom, for whatever purposes it is used. Indeed, it has given me somewhat of a shock to realise that many of these, even if dwellers in actual filth and disease, would not be distinguishable in any way from ordinary individuals.

Nothing was more noticeable in both lodging-houses than the existence of at least three descriptions of prostitutes. There was the apparently quiet, modest one, whom you would take to be a respectable girl. One of these gave an account of how "her boy" had met her and spent an hour or two trying to persuade her to go away and get work. He even cried! But apparently he did not move her. She promised him as a put-off. This quiet sort of girl is most to be dreaded; she may act as a tempter.

There was, in the second place, the good-natured girl, naturally affectionate. "Everyone likes me wherever I go," said the girl who had a home. This girl should have been a happy wife and mother. Her fate lies at the door of him who wronged her. Once in "the life," the ties of friendship and a vivacious, sociable disposition would draw her to it again and again.

The third kind may be the second gone to ruin, or those who, having had a worse bringing up, are naturally more shamelessly immoral. Drink has fascinations for them. They go "on the town" to get drink. One such, who was drunk over night, gave a long and involved history of her doings in the morning. She had received money and drink from three soldiers, but she declined to descend to the level of "Soldiers' Jinny," whose unmentionable doings were related at length. She left them and got more drink, piloted a couple to a "safe house" and was tipped for it, was treated to "bottled stout"—much to her disgust, as she preferred other drink—came along certain streets gloriously drunk, daring policemen, and arrived home happy, just sufficiently quarrelsome to get a free berth from everyone. She was a handsome dark girl of a low class. Her language was unspeakably foul, every sentence being interspersed with gory adjectives. She evidently expected admiration from her hearers for a sort of dare-devilry.