The Fleet. Its Rivers, Prison, and Marriages 21

The Fleet. Its Rivers, Prison, and Marriages 21

At all events, the fort at Mount Pleasant was raised, although never

used, and it belongs to the history of the Fleet River--as, close

by, a little affluent joined it. Gardens sloped down to its banks,

notably those of the great Priory of St. John's Clerkenwell, and, like

Bermondsey, with its "Cherry Gardens"--the names of "Vineyard Walk" and

"Pear Tree Court" bear testimony to the fruitfulness of this part of

London. There is also "Vine Street" in Saffron Hill, which latter name

is extremely suggestive of the growth of a plant which, in old times,

was much used both in medicine and cooking. It was called "The Liberty

of Saffron Hill, Hatton Garden, and Ely Place"--which was in the Manor

of Portpool.

 

Saffron Hill, nowadays, is the home of the Italian organ-grinder, who,

although not unknown to the police, is undoubtedly a better citizen

than previous dwellers therein. Specially was West Street, or Chick

Lane, as it was formerly called, a neighbourhood to be avoided by all

honest men. It ran both east and west of the Fleet, which it crossed

by a bridge. Stow calls it Chicken Lane, but it certainly was not

inhabited by young and innocent birds. It ran into Field Lane, of

unsavoury memory, and now done away with.

 

This was the state of West Street, as exemplified by a cutting from the

_Morning Herald_ of Feb. 11, 1834:

 

"Yesterday an inquest was held at the Horse Shoe and Magpie,

Saffron Hill, before THOMAS STIRLING, Esq., Coroner, on the body

of James Parkinson, aged 36, who came by his death under the

following circumstances.

 

"The Jury proceeded to view the body of the deceased, which lay

in the upper part of a low lodging-house for travellers, in West

Street, Saffron Hill. It was in a high state of decomposition,

and a report was generally circulated that he had come by his

death by unfair means.

 

"Mary Wood being sworn, deposed that she was the landlady of

the house in West Street, which she let out in lodgings. The

deceased occasionally lodged with her, and he was a dealer in

cat's meat. On Tuesday night last he came home and asked her

for a light, and proceeded to his bedroom. On the Wednesday

witness proceeded upstairs to make the beds, when she saw the

deceased lying on his bed apparently asleep, but she did not

speak to him. On the Thursday she proceeded to the upper part of

the house for the same purpose, when she again saw the deceased

lying as if asleep, but she did not disturb him, and he was

ultimately discovered to be a corpse, and his face quite black.

 

"_Juror._ Pray, how many beds are there in the room where the

deceased slept?

 

"_Witness._ Only eight, and please you, Sir.

 

"Indeed, and how many persons are in the habit of sleeping in

the same apartment?--There are generally two or three in a bed,

but the deceased had a bed to himself.

 

"Very comfortable truly. Is it not strange that none of his

fellow lodgers ascertained that he was dead?--No, Sir, they go

in and out without seeming to care for each other.

 

"Do you mean to say, if a poor man was to take a lodging at your

house, you would let him lie for upwards of 48 hours without

inquiring whether he required nourishment?--Why, Sir, I have

known some of my lodgers, who have been out _upon the spree_ to

_lay_ in bed for three and four days together, without a bit or

a sup, and then they have gone out to their work as well and as

hearty as ever they _was_ in their lives; I have known it often

to have been done. There was plenty of _grub_ in the house if he

liked to have asked for it; but I thought if I asked him to have

victuals he would be offended, as he might receive it as a hint

for the few nights' lodging that he owed me.

 

"Mr. Appleby, the parish surgeon, proved that the deceased died

a natural death, and the Jury returned a verdict of 'Died by the

visitation of God.'"

 

There was an old house in West Street, pulled down in April, 1840,

which tradition affirmed to have been the residence of the infamous

Jonathan Wild, and, when destroyed, its age was considered to be about

three hundred years. At one time it was the Red Lion Inn; but for a

hundred years prior to its demolition it was a low lodging-house. Owing

to the numerous facilities for secretion and escape, it was the haunt

of coiners, secret distillers, thieves, and perhaps worse. There were

trap doors connected with the Fleet River through which booty might be

thrown, or a man get away, if hard pressed; a secret door in a garret

led to the next house, and there were many hiding places--in one of

which a chimney sweep named Jones, who had escaped from Newgate, lay

hidden for about six weeks, although the house was repeatedly searched

by the police.

 

And there was Field Lane too, which was the house of the "Fence," or

receiver of stolen goods. It was from this interesting locality that

Charles Dickens drew that wonderful study of Fagin--who was a real

character. Cruikshank has made him as immortal, but Kenny Meadows tried

to delineate him in a clever series which appeared in _Bell's Life in

London_, under the title of "Gallery of Comicalities."

 

[Illustration: FAGIN, THE JEW.]

 

"Welcome, Old Star, of Saffron hill.

Of villainy a sample bright,

Awake to Prigs, and plunder still,

Thou merry, ancient Israelite!

 

Thy face is rough, with matted shag,

Foul is thy form, old shrivell'd wretch.

How cunningly you eye the swag,

Harden'd purveyor to Jack Ketch!

 

Incrusted with continued crime,

Your hopeful pupils still employ--

Thou wert indeed a Tutor prime

To Oliver, the Workhouse Boy.

 

Poor Lad! condemn'd to fate's hard stripes,

To herd with Fagin's plundering pack;

And learn the art of filching wipes,

From Charley Bates, and Dawkins Jack.

 

To hear 'The Dodger' patter slang,

With knowing wink, and accent glib,

Or learn from 'Sikes's' ruffian gang,

In slap up style to crack a crib.

 

Hail, Fagin! Patriarch of the whole!

Kind Patron of these knowing ones--

In thee we trace a kindred soul

Of honest Ikey Solomon's!

 

We leave you to your courses vile,

For conscience you have none, old Codger!

And in our next we'll trace in style,

The mug of Jack, the _artful dodger_."

 

[Illustration: FIELD LANE NEGOTIATIONS; OR, A SPECIMEN OF "FINE

DRAWING."]

 

The artistic merit of this poetry is _nil_, and my only excuse is

the introduction of a forgotten sketch by a dead artist, who, in his

day was popular and famous. Who, for instance, remembering Leech's

pictures in _Punch_, would think that this illustration ever came from

his pencil? but it did, and from _Bell's Life in London_; and so did

another, of two children fighting in Chick Lane, whilst their parents,

the father with a broken nose, and the mother with a black eye, look on

approvingly.

 

"FIELD LANE NEGOTIATIONS; OR, A SPECIMEN OF 'FINE DRAWING.' Thish ish

vot I callsh 'caushe and effect;' caushe if vee thidn't buy, no bothy

vood shell, and if vee thidn't shell, nobothy vood buy; and vot's more,

if peoplesh thidn't have foglesh, vy, nobothy could prig em" (_See_

Abrahams on the "Economy of Wipes").

 

Those were the days of large and valuable silk Bandana handkerchiefs,

and the story used to be told that you might have your pocket picked

of your handkerchief at one end of Field Lane, and buy it again at the

other end, with the marking taken out.

 

Long before Fagin's time, however, there was a school for young thieves

in this neighbourhood, _vide Gentleman's Magazine_ (1765), vol. xxxv.

p. 145.

 

"Four boys, detected in picking pockets, were examined before

the Lord Mayor, when one was admitted as evidence, who gave an

account, that a man who kept a public-house near _Fleet Market_,

had a club of boys, whom he instructed in picking pockets, and

other iniquitous practices; beginning first with teaching them

to pick a handchief out of his own pocket, and next his watch;

so that, at last, the evidence was so great an adept, that he

got the publican's watch four times in one evening, when he

swore he was as perfect as one of twenty years' practice. The

pilfering out of shops was his next art; his instructions to

his pupils were, that as many chandlers, or other shops, as

had hatches,[65] one boy was to knock for admittance for some

trifle, whilst another was lying on his belly, close to the

hatch, who when the boy came out, the hatch on jar, and the

owner withdrawn, was to crawl in, on all fours, and take the

tills or anything else he could meet with, and to retire in the

same manner. Breaking into shops by night was another article

which was to be effected thus: as walls of brick under shop

windows are very thin, two of them were to lie under a window

as destitute beggars, asleep to passers by, but, when alone,

were provided with pickers to pick the mortar out of the bricks,

and so on till they had opened a hole big enough to go in, when

one was to lie, as if asleep, before the breach, till the other accomplished his purpose."