After all had left, a purse containing a large amount of money was missing, consisting partly of bank-notes; when he gave information to the police. Some days after, through the admirable ingenuity and tact of a detective officer at Marylebone, a person was traced out in the locality of Edgware-road, as having been guilty of the felony, and the stolen purse was found on her person. Her apprehension led to the discovery, that she had been pursuing a system of robberies of this description over various parts of the metropolis, for twelve months previously. She was sentenced to three years’ penal servitude, and while in Millbank Penitentiary, committed suicide about three months after.
These felonies abound chiefly in the west-end of the metropolis, in the neighbourhood of Belgravia, Russell and Bedford-squares, Oxford-square, Gloucester-square, Seymour-street, Hyde Park-street, Gloucester-terrace, and other fashionable localities. They are often committed by servants of worthless character out of situation, also by lads of respectable appearance, sent out by trainers of thieves, who often begin their despicable life in this manner, and advance to picking of pockets and burglary.
Number of larcenies in the Metropolitan districts for the year 1860, by doors being left open and by false messages 2,986
Ditto, ditto, in the City 535
3,521
Value of property thereby abstracted in Metropolitan district £ 9,904
Ditto, ditto, in the City 724
£ 10,628
Stealing by Lifting up Windows or Breaking Glass.—Area-sneaks frequently lift up the kitchen windows to steal. Sometimes they cannot reach the articles through the iron bars, and have recourse to an ingenious expedient to effect their object. They tie two sticks together, and attach a hook to the end, and seize hold of any articles they can find and draw them through the bars; they frequently leave their sticks behind them, which are found by the police.
There is generally an iron fastening in the centre of the window frame. The thief inserts a small thin knife or other sharp instrument in the opening of the frame, and forces back the iron catch. In some instances a fastening or clasp in the inner side of the window is pushed back by means of breaking a pane of glass. These robberies are often committed in dwelling-houses in Queen-street, Mitre-street, and Webber-street, near Blackfriars-road; in Towerstreet, Waterloo-road, and similar localities—generally by a man and a young lad. This young lad is employed to enter the window of the house to be robbed, which in these localities is often a front parlour. The window is drawn up softly, not to excite any alarm.
The man generally keeps watch while the lad enters the house, perhaps at the corner of the street, when both decamp with the property.
In some instances they break the glass in the same way that star-glazers do at shop-windows, as already described. This is done either at the front or the back window. They prefer the back window if there is a ready access to it. These robberies are committed in occupied houses as well as in houses while the inmates are absent for a few days. They steal money, trinkets, linen, or anything that is easily carried off.
Similar robberies are perpetrated by two or more persons at the West-end fashionable houses by the area or back windows, when they steal money, jewels, mantelpiece clocks, clothes, linen, and other property.
Sometimes they enter by cutting the window with a diamond. These felonies are often of considerable value.
The parlour windows are sometimes lifted up by young thieves in the morning, when plate is laid on the table for breakfast; the servant frequently leaves the dining-room window open for ventilation, when they effect an entrance in this way:—one throws a cap into the area by way of joke, or through the window into the room; another mounts the railings and enters the window. Should any of the inmates detect him, he will say that “a lad had thrown his cap into the house, and he came in to fetch it.” If not disturbed, he carries off the silver plate, and often returns through the window with the plunder without being observed. These thieves take any article easily carried off, such as wearing apparel, workboxes, or fancy clocks, and are generally Irish cockneys; they are to be found in considerable numbers in the vicinity of King’s-cross, Waterloo-road, and other localities. They abstract any valuable property they find lying about, but their chief object is to get the silver plate.
There are few cases of larceny from back bedroom windows, as the servants and inmates are generally hovering about after breakfast. This is sometimes effected, though rarely, by the connivance of the servants.
At other times these robberies from the house are committed by means of breaking a pane of glass, when the thieves undo the fastening of the window and effect an entrance. This is often perpetrated during the temporary absence of the inmates.
The statistics in this class of robberies will be given when we come to treat on “Attic or Garret Thieves.”
Attic or Garret Thieves.—These are generally the most expert thieves in the metropolis. Their mode of operation is this:—They call at a dwelling-house with a letter, or have communication with some of the servants, for the purpose of discovering the best means of access, and to learn how the people in the house are engaged and the time most suitable for the depredation. They generally come to plunder the house in the evening, when one or two of their accomplices loiter about, watching the movements of the police, the other meanwhile proceeding to the roof of the house.
These attic robberies are generally effected through unoccupied houses—perhaps by the house next door, or some other on the same side of the street. They pass through the attic to the roof, and proceed along the gutters and coping to the attic window of the house to be robbed. They unfasten the attic window by taking the pane of glass out, or pushing the fastening back, and enter the dwelling. This is generally done about 7 or 8 o’clock in the evening, when the family are at dinner—the servants being engaged between the dining-room on the first floor and the kitchen below, serving up the dinner.
The thieves proceed to the bedroom on the second floor, and force open the wardrobe with a short jemmy which they carry, and try to find the jewel-case and any other articles of value. Their object is generally to get valuable jewels.
The dining-room is on the first floor, so that they have often full scope for their operations without being seen or obstructed, while the inmates are engaged below. They return the same way through the attic window on the roof, run along the gutters, and escape by the same house through which they entered.
A very remarkable robbery of this kind occurred in the beginning of 1861 at Loundes-square, where the thieves entered through an attic and obtained jewels to the amount of 3,000l.
On their return from the dwelling-house, it being a very windy night, a hat belonging to one of them was blown from the house-top upon one of the slanting roofs he could not reach, which afterwards led to his detection. A short time previously it was in the hands of a hatter for certain repairs, when he inserted a paper marked with his name within it. The thief was arrested, tried, and got ten years’ penal servitude.
Some get to the roof by means of a ladder placed outside an unfinished house, or house under repair, and steal in the same manner.
An ingenious attempt at a jewel robbery occurred lately by means of a cab drawing up with a lady before a dwelling-house. The cabman, who was evidently in collusion with the thieves, dismounted, rang the bell, and told the butler who answered the door, that a lady wished to see him. On his coming to the cab, it being about ten or fifteen yards from the street-door, he was kept in conversation by a female. Meantime he observed a respectable-looking man steal into the house from the street, while thus engaged. He left the cab without taking any notice of what he saw, and entered the house, when the cab drove off at a rapid rate, which convinced him that there was something wrong. He made his way up into the bedroom on the second floor, and found a man of respectable appearance concealed in the apartment. An officer was called and the man was searched. There was found on his person a jemmy, a wax taper, and silent lights. He was taken into
custody; but no trace of the cabman or woman could be found. He was afterwards committed for the offence.
These attic thieves generally live in Hackney-road and Kingsland-road. On one occasion a gang was discovered in a furnished house in Russell-square. They generally have apartments in respectable neighbourhoods to avoid suspicion, and have servants to attend them, who assist in disposing of the stolen property. The best attic thieves reside in Hackney and Kingsland-roads, and many are to be found in the neighbourhood of Shoreditch church; a few of them are known to be residing in Waterloo-road, but not of so high a class as in the localities referred to.
The women connected with them have an abundance of jewellery; they live in high style, with plenty of cash, but not displayed to any great extent at the time any robbery is committed, as it would excite suspicion.
Many of them have a very gentleman-like appearance, and none but a detective officer would know them. When brought before the police courts for these felonies, it is usual to have constables brought from all the districts to see them and make them known, which very much annoys them.
They generally succeed in making off with their booty, and are seldom caught. Their robberies are skifully planned, in the same experienced careful manner in which burglaries are effected. They have gone through all grades of thieving from their infancy—through sneaking and picking pockets.
This is a late system of robbery, and has been carried on rather extensively over the west end of the metropolis.
Number of larcenies from dwelling-houses, by lifting up windows, breaking glass, and by attic windows through empty houses, for 1860 515
Ditto, ditto, in the City 14
529
Value of property thereby abstracted in Metropolitan districts for 1860 £ 3,962
Ditto, ditto, in the City 18
£ 3,980
A Visit to the Rookery of St. Giles and Its Neighbourhood.
In company with a police officer we proceeded to the Seven Dials, one of the most remarkable localities in London, inhabited by bird-fanciers, keepers of stores of old clothes and old shoes, costermongers, patterers, and a motley assemblage of others, chiefly of the lower classes. As we stood at one of the angles in the centre of the Dials we saw three young men—burglars—loitering at an opposite corner of an adjoining dial. One of them had a gentlemanly appearance, and was dressed in superfine black cloth and beaver hat. The other two were attired as mechanics or tradesmen. One of them had recently returned from penal servitude, and another had undergone a long imprisonment.
Leaving the Seven Dials and its dingy neighbourhood, we went to Oxford Street, one of the first commercial streets in London, and one of the finest in the world. It reminded us a good deal of the celebrated Broadway, New York, although the buildings of the latter are in some places more costly and splendid, and some of the shops more magnificent. Oxford Street is one of the main streets of London, and is ever resounding with the din of vehicles, carts, cabs, hansoms, broughams, and omnibuses driving along. Many of the shops are spacious and crowded with costly goods, and the large windows of plate-glass, set in massive brass frames, are gaily furnished with their various articles of merchandise.
On the opposite side of the street we observed a jolly, comfortable-looking, elderly man, like a farmer in appearance, not at all like a London sharper. He was standing looking along the street as though he were waiting for some one. He was a magsman (a skittle-sharp), and no doubt other members of the gang were hovering near. He appeared to be as cunning as an old fox in his movements, admirably fitted to entrap the unwary.
A little farther along the street we saw a fashionably-dressed man coming towards us, arm in arm with his companion, among the throng of people. They were in the prime of life, and had a respectable, and even opulent appearance. One of them was good-humoured and social, as though he were on good terms with himself and society in general; the other was more callous and reserved, and more suspicious in his aspect. Both were bedecked with glittering watch chains and gold rings. They passed by a few paces, when the more social of the two, looking over his shoulder, met our eye directed towards him, turned back and accosted us, and was even so generous as to invite us into a gin-palace near by, which we courteously declined. The two magsmen (card-sharpers) strutted off, like fine gentlemen, along the street on the outlook for their victims.
Here we saw another young man, a burglar, pass by. He had an engaging appearance, and was very tasteful in his dress, very unlike the rough burglars we met at Whitechapel, the Borough, and Lambeth.
Leaving Oxford Street we went along Holborn to Chancery Lane, chiefly frequented by barristers and attorneys, and entered Fleet Street, one of the main arteries of the metropolis, reminding us of London in the olden feudal times, when the streets were crowded together in dense masses, flanked with innumerable dingy alleys, courts, and by-streets, like a great rabbit-warren. Fleet Street, though a narrow, business street, with its traffic often choked with vehicles, is interesting from its antique, historical, and literary associations. Elbowing our way through the throng of people, we pass through one of the gloomy arches of Temple Bar, and issue into the Strand, where we saw two pickpockets, young, tall, gentlemanly men, cross the street from St. Clement’s Church and enter a restaurant. They were attired in a suit of superfine black cloth, cut in fashionable style. They entered an elegant dining-room, and probably sat down to costly viands and wines.
Leaving the Strand, we went up St. Martin’s Lane, a narrow street leading from the Strand to the Seven Dials. We here saw a young man, an expert burglar, of about twenty-four years of age and dark complexion, standing at the corner of the street. He was well dressed, in a dark cloth suit, with a billicock hat. One of his comrades was taken from his side about three weeks ago on a charge of burglary.
Entering a beershop in the neighbourhood of St. Giles, close by the Seven Dials, we saw a band of coiners and ringers of changes. One of them, a genteel-looking, slim youth is a notorious coiner, and has been convicted. He was sitting quietly by the door over a glass of beer, with his companion by his side. One of them is a moulder; another was sentenced to ten years’ penal servitude for coining and selling base coin. A modest-looking young man, one of the gang, was seated by the bar, also respectably dressed. He is generally supposed to be a subordinate connected with this coining band, looking out, while they are coining, that no officers of justice are near, and carrying the bag of base money for them when they go out to sell it to base wretches in small quantities at low prices. Five shillings’ worth of base money is generally sold for tenpence. Ringing the changes is effected in this way:—A person offers a good sovereign to a shopkeeper to be changed. The gold piece is chinked on the counter, or otherwise tested, and is proved to be good. The man hastily asks back and gets the sovereign, and pretends that he has some silver, so that he does not require to change it. On feeling his pocket he finds he does not have it, and returns a base piece of money resembling it, instead of the genuine gold piece.
We returned to Bow Street, and saw three young pickpockets proceeding along in company, like three well-dressed costermongers, in dark cloth frock-coats and caps.
Being desirous of having a more thorough knowledge of the people residing in the rookery of St. Giles, we visited it with Mr. Hunt, inspector of police. We first went to a lodging-house in George Street, Oxford Street, called the Hampshire-Hog Yard. Most of the lodgers were then out. On visiting a room in the garret we saw a man, in mature years, making artificial flowers; he appeared to be very ingenious, and made several roses before us with marvellous rapidity. He had suspended along the ceiling bundles of dyed grasses of various hues, crimson, yellow, green, brown, and other colours to furnish cases of stuffed birds. He was a very intelligent man and a natural genius. He told us strong drink had brought him to this humble position in the garret, and that he once had the opportunity of making a fortune in the service of a nobleman. We felt, as we looked on his countenance, and listened to his conversation, he
was capable of moving in a higher sphere of life. Yet he was wonderfully contented with his humble lot.
We visited Dyott House, George Street, the ancient manor-house of St. Giles-in-the-Fields, now fitted up as a lodging-house for single men. The kitchen, an apartment about fifteen feet square, is surrounded with massive and tasteful panelling in the olden style. A large fire blazing in the grate—with two boilers on each side—was kept burning night and day to supply the lodgers with hot water for their tea and coffee. Some rashers of bacon were suspended before the fire, with a plate underneath. There was a gas-light in the centre of the apartment, and a dial on the back wall. The kitchen was furnished with two long deal tables and a dresser, with forms to serve as seats. There were about fifteen labouring men present, most of them busy at supper on fish, and bread, and tea. They were a very mixed company, such as we would expect at a London lodging-house, men working in cab-yards assisting cabmen, some distributing bills in the streets, one man carrying advertizing boards, and others jobbing at anything they can find to do in the neighbourhood. This house was clean and comfortable, and had the appearance of being truly a comfortable poor man’s home. It was cheerful to look around us and to see the social air of the inmates. One man sat with his coat off, enjoying the warmth of the kitchen; a boy was at his tea, cutting up dried fish and discussing his bread and butter. A young man of about nineteen sat at the back of the apartment, with a very sinister countenance, very unlike the others. There was something about him that indicated a troubled mind. We also observed a number of elderly men among the party, some in jackets, and others in velvet coats, with an honest look about them.
When the house was a brothel, about fifteen years ago, an unfortunate prostitute, named Mary Brothers, was murdered in this kitchen by a man named Connell, who was afterwards executed at Newgate for the deed. He had carnal connexion with this woman some time before, and he suspected that she had communicated to him the venereal disease with which he was afflicted. In revenge he took her life, having purchased a knife at a neighbouring cutler’s shop.
The London Underworld in the Victorian Period: Authentic First-Person Accounts by Beggars, Thieves and Prostitutes: v. 1 Page 21