I recollect little of my early life. I was quite young at the time. But others have acquainted me with the circumstances of my birth. According to them, I was born a poor white child. Me mum staggered into the workhouse, squirted me out, and promptly passed on. There I remained until I stabbed another boy with a fork. Then I was sold to the sweeps, as a climbing boy. When they stopped to have a drink, I stole a watch from another patron. Who caught me at it, and later that evening won me in a game of cards.
The next six years was spent in the company of one J. Worthington Foxfellow, "learning a trade," as he often said. We traveled all over England, never staying in one place too long. Just long enough to get what we needed to move on. Then Mr. Foxfellow, decided that he was just getting too old for all this moving and wanted to settle down and retire. "Put you to work! Full time, Boy!" And so we came to London, to the East End. Not too far from Mad Sal's. I would go uptown to "find" things that people would lose to take them back to Mr. Foxfellow.
As he slowly opened to the window, Nicholas realised that he may have very well hit the jackpot. The house was run down, but this room in particular had all manor of riches and jewelry (at least for the time and for the area). So much in fact that he did not realise that the current "tenant", Jeremy Wolfe, had just woken up to spend a penny. Nicholas pried at the window, but to no avail. Just as he was about to wedge a piece of wood underneath the stubborn glass, Nicholas felt a warm splash cover the majority of his person. He sniffed the air and gave out a ear-shattering scream. Ever since then, Nicholas has been looking for a way to get back at Mr. Wolfe, and he may have just found it...
I worked for Mrs. Montmorency for near as long as I can remember. My parents hired me out as a scullery maid when I was p’raps six, and I moved up, such I could, to Cook’s helper and then upstairs maid. Round when I was blossoming into a woman, I asked the young master why he always had his nose in a book. He took me into his room, taught me to read, and taught me another thing or two. I told the young master that I shouldn’t, that his Mum might find out, and he said "You really ought to do as I want, or I’ll tell Mummy you did anyway." This went on for over a year, and at least I learned to read and got a bit of other interests out of it, in fact I didn’t realize that Master Montmorency was a bit depraved, as he was the only man I "knew", until the Missus caught us at it.
I considered going to Mrs. Fezziwig down the street and asking if she could use me, but I didn’t want her hearing the news of my disgrace. If she has, she’s kept it from me when I go back for the Christmas party.
So I was wandering London, for I don’t know how long, and ended up in the Seven Dials. Like an idiot, I wandered into a dead end, and a"gentlemen," he was DRESSED like a gentleman, followed and said "Haven’t see you ‘round here." "I’m not from ‘ere." "Then I won’t ‘ave to pay the going rate." He started lifting my skirt with his cane, when another cane came down on it and a voice said "Gerroff ‘er." The man had half a scissor to his throat. The "gerroff ‘er " man let him go, then gave me a cheeky grin.
"You’ve seen be’er days, ‘aven’t you, luv? Jeremy Wolfe, at your service." He’d been the only one to give me a kind word all day, and later he gave me something to eat and a place to sleep.
Click here, I do run on, dearie
Mary gets her love of numbers from her father, who kept accounts for several small shops near their home. Her mother died when Mary was young. Following her father's death, she took over his 'business', taking care to keep her father's death secret, as her parents hadn't been able to afford formal schooling. She parlayed that into a position in a well-to-do home, where shortly thereafter she began gambling and met the the bounder who betrayed her. Cashiered in disgrace from her position for 'borrowing' from the household accounts to support her gambling and no longer welcomed by 'polite' society due to her fall from grace, Mary found herself on the streets, desperately scrabbling to raise enough for a roof over her head each night and enough to eat to keep body & soul together. Enter Jeremey, et al.
Sammy was born into a middle class family on the out skirts of London. His parents, Reginald Langley and Persephone Langley, owned a and ran a photograph shop where his family earned their living. Sammy was home schooled by his mom and helped out around the shop. One day his mother sent him to the store to pick up some supplies, and upon his return he found his families store in shambles. It turns out that his father was taking lewd photographs of some local girls that just happen to be the daughters of the local authorities and they didn't like it too much so they had his store destroyed and he and his wife brutally murdered. Sam went into the ruins of his families store to see if he could find his parents and only found their mangled corpses. Scared and confused he scrounged up what money he could find, the one camera that wasn't broken and his fathers lock box. Not knowing where else to go, he made his way to London.
Sam figured in London that he could start small and work his way out of the mess he was in. First thing he did when he got to London was get a job in the local gambling house and sleeping in what seamed to be the deserted and run down part of town. The first night in London he looked into his fathers lock box and found it to be where he had kept all the lewd postcards of the girls back home. Sam not caring who they were and needing money he decided to sell them for a good price. He was selling them to the men that would come into the gambling house. And when they started running out he got the great idea to take more...
So Sammy got some tin together and bought the supplies need for camera and rented a room for 2 nights. Within those 2 nights he worked his charms the best he could to get women to pose for him. He didn't do to well at first, but the girls got word out to other girls and he had a steady source of girls to pose for him. Well this word spread to many girls and some of the girls were talking about it when their boss, the one and old Mr. Jeremy Wolfe, herd them talk about this and to say the least got a bit upset. So on the morning that Sammy was clearing out of the room, Mr. Wolfe and his crew came barging in and confronted Sam and demanded a cut of the profit, or else. So after some quick thinking, Sam make the proposal to join up with Jeremy and become a part of his crew. Jeremy thinks about it and extends his hand to Sam...
My earliest memories consist of waking up in a ditch with the worst headache I have ever experienced since. Either I was of middle- class, or I stole somebody's clothes. The dress I awoke in was rather tattered, but a person could see that it was once beautiful and flowing.
Whilst wandering the streets in the area of Hyde Park, getting lost I might add, I was mugged, robbed, beaten, and other unmentionable atrocities. Starving, dirty, and not all that healthy, I took a job in the house of a shopman who ran a store on Brick Lane. Amongst my numerous duties of cleaning, sewing, and laundering, I was to secretly keep the Master pleased (how he loved that title). Once the Mistress got wind of these activities, I was told that I clean like a pauper (things began to `disappear') and my sewing was atrocious. I was tossed to the street.
Having failed at that job, and a few others, as my reputation became known, I strolled to the docks in the hopes I could barter my services for a bit of tin and a bite to eat. In my searches for customers, I came across Jeremy. Offering to satisfy his manly necessities in exchange for anything he thought was worth it, he offered me his coat and took me in. I haven't been starving since! Hungry maybe.. but not starving.
For a few years I was one of the gang. Fighting and squabbling with the other girls; assuring I got what was due to me; and making sure things were split evenly; I found my place. While drinking and making merry at Sal's one night, I ran into a gent, Irwin Igglesden. He bought me drinks and made me laugh. We enjoyed each other's kindnesses in full that night.
And many nights after that.
I then was unexpectedly with child - imagine my horror! Deziah offered to rid me of my burden, but I could not make myself accept such a process. I have seen the products of her releases previously and was unsure if I would be happier for it in the end. Crying one night to Irwin that my life was over and my child would surely die, he offered to care for me and `our' soon to be child. He resided with his mother in a house on Lion St and was partner to a general shop in the area. To assist in his mother's acceptance of me, I immediately changed my name to Mercy Jacqueline Smith and took on the family name of Igglesden upon marriage (Mother was always suspicious, however, as I talked `funny').
I dabbled in the area of Phrenology and Chiromancy in an attempt to obtain the appearance of a higher position in society. Mother died late in the winter due to sickness in her lungs. By spring, Irwin passed from supposed depression of his mother's death, leaving my child (Mortimer Lee Igglesden), and me widowed with the family's affairs (mostly debt). I sold the house on Lion St to cover the debts and went on our way to finding a respectable occupation in the phrenological area of expertise.
Philip W.Stone is a very unique person. He's loved by all and despised by his enemies. For those who do not know about Phil, let me briefly describe him for you.
Philip W. Stone was born on January 4, 1849, in a little shed in the East End. Philip's mother was either a servant or a lady of evening and his father was a middle class business man. Little Phil did not go into full detail about his parents. All he knows that his mother's voice was like an angel. He also knows that they decided not raise him. Little Phil was abandoned on the steps of an orphanage. As he was growing up, Little Phil had not shared his past with anyone except his good friend, Johnny. One day Little Phil was leaving the orphanage to buy some food, when his friend, Johnny came running so hard, that it was like someone was chasing him. Little Phil asked him what was wrong, and Johnny told him that Phil's parents were killed in an accident. Phil was saddened but he also was rejoicing because of what they did to him.
Throughout his childhood, Phil never learned how to read and write. At the age of thirteen, Little Phil joined "Fagin's Gang", there he was taught the art of thievery. After years had gone by, Little Phil told Fagin that he must leave, and as he left, Fagin had a special gift for him. It was called "Bill Sikes special". After that, Little Phil felt happy again. He was on his own, and he wanted to do a solo job. Little did Phil know that someone else was interested in his talent. That someone was Jeremy Wolffe.
One day, Phil was looking for a potential victim. He spotted a well groomed gentleman who had just arrived by coach. As he walked toward the gentleman, he dipped into the man's pocket without him noticing. Just as he dipped the man's moneybag and was walking away from him, Jeremy blocked Little Phil's way and said; "Excuse me!!, but I think this belongs to you!" Bewildered at the sight of his moneybag, he said, "Yes, It is!" Looking at Jeremy holding Little Phil, he then said, "I want him arrested!" and started to search for a bobby/crusher (Policeman). Sensing that Little Phil was scared, Jeremy then said to the gentleman, "I'll deliver him for you, sir for a pound." But the man refused to pay him. Cunning that he was, Jeremy then said to the gentleman, "If you don't pay me, sir--then I will be forced to tell your wife about you and Maggie on Thursday night!!!" Caught between greed and blackmail, the gentleman reluctantly paid Jeremy.
Turning to Phil and grabbing his arm as he tried to flee, Jeremy said to him, "I have a deal for you, either you work for me or you visit London finest!" Knowing his problem, Little Phil joined Jeremy Wolffe and Co. Phil was pick-pocket/bodyguard for Jeremy's Tarts. He would give Jeremy the stolen merchandise and they'd come to a fair price for it.
As the weeks passed by, Little Phil was standing next to Mad Sal's Alehouse, where most of Jeremy's Tarts worked. While waiting to see if anyone made trouble for the tarts, he noticed someone near the bar. It was his old buddy, Johnny, who was talking to the head chucker of Sal's. As he walked toward Johnny he called his name out loud, "Oi Johnny!!,"
Johnny turned around and saw Little Phil. They came closer to each other and hugged. They started to walk toward the bar. "Philip Stone, I wants you to meet Phil Barker. He is the head Bouncer for Mad Sal's," said Johnny.
"Hi!" replied Little Phil, "so you're the bloody bouncer?"
"So I'm the Bloody Bouncer,! What is to you," replied Barker harshly "Why, are you looking for a job?"
Little Phil nodded.
"Okay, wait right here, I'll see if Mr. Tapp can give you a job", said Barker.
After minutes passed, Phil Barker returned, not with the owner of the Alehouse, but the owner's nephew Mr. Timmy Tapp.
"Little Phil, I wanted you to meet with Mr. Timmy Tapp, the boss's Nephew", said Barker.
"So you want to work here?", says Timmy, "what kind of talent to do you have?"
"I protect people and I'm the best dipper of all of London!!", Phil proudly said.
"Who do you protect?", asked Timmy.
"I protect Jeremy Wolffe and his girls!", answered Phil.
"Jeremy Wolffe!!, you work for Jeremy Wolffe!!!, said the bewildered Timmy Tapp.
" That's right, sir!!!, I work for Mr. Wolffe and I am the best dipper of . . "
Timmy Tapp paused for second before accepting the young lad. "Alright then, You will work with Barker as a bouncer, " said Timmy. Still reluctant to accept the lad's credentials, Timmy Tapp knew that if this young lad worked for Jeremy Wolffe, he would know all of Jeremy's clients and connections, thus enabling him to move up.
To be continued
Deziah Jacqeline Rippley Knight was born into a cruel and unloving world. Her mother died while giving birth, leaving her to be raised by her astringent uncaring father. He blamed little Deziah for the death of her mother. They lived in a dilapedated home in the Whitechappel district. Perhaps it was the lack of a nuturing mother or her father's stern antics which caused Deziah to be a noisy and needy infant. To quiet the young babe, her father would put a laudanum tincture in her bottle which would ensure she slept soundly all alone while he caroused the local publichouses.
During adolescense, life was no better. Deziah endured cruel punishment from her father who was driven solely by the drink. At age nine, she was left at a workhouse--abandoned (this was after she retaliated back against her father knocking him down and plundering him with a flat-iron). The master of the workhouse was equally as cruel, but Deziah remained there for some years. One night she escaped and ran through the night until she was sure noone would catch her. Mysteriously a month later, that workhouse burned to the ground.
Alone in a world she had not seen for many years Deziah roamed the streets not knowing what her purpose in life was. She grew even more melancholy and calloused and was quite a clever infidel. The drink was her friend. Perhaps her only friend. She was the most violent woman in London and would demolish anything that came into her way. Mischief was her forte. Once she jumped over a bar and smashed up all the tumblers and glass when they would not serve her with out paying. The scar on her face is from a rile she once had with a soldier and his bayonet---though she swears it was a horse that kicked her.
One night while staggering the streets after playing a tardy mourner for some of her grave-robbing acquaintances she literally bumped right into a fellow who introduced himself as: Jeremy Wolfe. He kissed her hand and she grimaced at him. But Jeremey saw through her cold exterior, noticing deep down inside there was a girl longing for a sense of belonging and family. He was kind and offered her a drink and a warm dry place to sleep. Deziah bit her lip and took him up on the offer...but she was weary. Convinced he had alterior motives, Deziah did not sleep a wink. Her skepticism proved unnecessary because within day of their meeting Jeremy took Deziah under his wing as part of his Escort Service. Prostitution bored Deziah so she still did services for the body snatchers along with other criminal acts. Fighting, sharp weaponry and murder was not foreign to her and most people knew to stay away--or else force feed her gin to stay in her good(?) graces. The sight of blood excited Deziah! She eagerly learned the skills of a midwife but never once aided in a birth. She believed because the world was so grim and merciless, birth was the result of an accident. She used her midwife skills to rid fellow tarts of unwanted pregnancies. This got her into trouble and she was shipped to Austrailia. (See article from Bulletin below.) She managed to escape and make her way back to London by way of ship and some help from her collegue Marcus Drewsby who worked the docks. Despite being very ill, she made her way back onto the familiar streets and into her life of crime and lunacy.
MEDICAL HORROR
A Rotherhithe resident, MISS DEZIAH JACKLYN RIPPLEY KNIGHT, was sentenced today to be shipped out to the penal colony in Australia for her role in the deaths of two local women of easy virtue.
Miss Knight had been providing crude medical services for the ladies of Jeremy's Escort Service when their condition was discovered to be in a family way. The trial's lurid details at times proved too strong for several ladies, who swooned and had to be removed from the courtroom.
Key testimony was given by one Dr. John Thomas Wilts, a London physician, who managed to maintain his composure, doubtless from his medical experience, when a number of gentlemen in the courtroom grew visibly pale by certain hideous details of events in the case. Dr. Wilts placed the constabulary on the track of Miss Knight, who discovered her performing an abortion in a back room of the TEMPERENCE MISSION! It took four strong bobbies to subdue Miss Knight, and the ensuing debacle caused several women in the Mission to faint dead away, and sent several children screaming.
The head of the Mission, one Edmund Straight, had no comment for the events, and a Mr. Terence Narrow, visibly shaken, was seen to imbibe a considerable quantity of rum from a flask on-the-spot.
It is possible that Miss Knight might not have been discovered at all, and certainly not convicted, without the noble efforts of Dr. Wilts who witnessed the horrifying effects of Miss Knights efforts. "Medicine," he said "is one of the highest callings a man can enter, with its roots extending to the time of Hippocrates. I would be less than a Physician if I ignored such a debasement of my Profession."
Luv... all I’ve ta say is don’t do it! That’s wot got me in the cirmstances that I ‘ave come to know.
He was a tall dark swarthy man he was, me mum told me to keep away from ‘im she did. Said he was no good, a smooth talker ‘e was, too smooth me mum said. I showd ‘er I would, we was in Luv, deep and true kind o’ love. No one could keep us apart.
At least that’s wot I was lead to believe.
‘e was a teller of tales wif a deep silky voice, I could sit and listen to ‘im for ages. I would close my eyes and pretend that I too was on a ship goin’ to far off exotic like places full of magic, mystery and money! ‘e swept me off my feet he did, bought me presents and took me as his bride. I was damn ‘appy to be finally out of me mums ‘ouse. ‘e promised me a big ‘ouse wif servants of me own. Can you imagine me wif me own maids to tell wot to do an’ wot to cook! Oh, it was such a magical time to be wif ‘enry it was!
We lived in a modest boarding ‘house in the beginning, Henry said it was only for a short stay, said ‘e had money due em and he just had to find ‘is friend so ‘e could collect wot was owed. Then we could move up to a nicer ‘ome. Oh and did I believe ‘em, I ate up every word that he told me, cause we were so deeply in love….Wot a crock!
So one day ‘e tells me "Mona me luv I ‘ave to go to port and sail again, when I come ‘ome you wont be wifout any comfort I can give you." So on that cold spring morning Henry pushed off never too be seen again.
Word came back 6 months later that the ship ‘enry was on sank in a storm and there was no survivors. I took it as a bad shock I did not believe wot they told me. I could feel that my ‘enry was still alive, and not dead to become fish food. Our luv was too strong a bond an I could feel that ‘e was still alive, but where?
As time went by, I lost our room at the bordin’ ‘ouse cus I could not come up wif the money that was owed. I fell about by the docks an got a placement working as a barmaid at the Seven Dials. That way I could be closer to the sailors an listen for stories ‘bout Henry, whispers or shouts if any. All that and the owners unwanted advances to my body; for a dry place to sleep an a bit of food for me belly. I was full of despair as it had been over a year and still no word of wot really ‘append in that cruel sea.
I went a bit mad I did, I spent more and more of time away from the Dials down at the docks. I was wondering around asking the sailors if they knew of my Henry and the ship and wot they knew of me ‘usband’s disappearance. I was told by a sailor he would tell me wot I wanted to ‘ere for a tryst wif me for payment. I was broken hearted and disgusted of wot he wanted of me body. Could they not see I was a shell of a women wif a broken ‘eart. I broke down cause I needed some money so I could keep up me efforts to find me ‘usband. I knew he would not willingly abandon me after all the things he promised.
More time had slipped by from my life and I had lost all ‘ope of ever finding me ‘enry.
By god the anger came then, I knew I would find ‘im and when I did he would pay for wot he did to me. While I was sitting muttering to me self of me plans for the future, a man sat down next to me an said "Luv wot’s got you so worked up?" He introduced ‘imself as Jermey, bought me a plate to eat a pint to drink and an ear to listen to me poor broken heart.
By the time I was finished an had no more tears to shed, Jeremy told me he would take care of me an through ‘is "connections" he would ‘elp me get to the bottom of Henry’s disappearance.
Among uvver public buildings in a certain tahn, wich for many reasons it will be prudent ter refrain from mentionin', and ter wich I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common ter most tahns, great or wee: ter wit, a workhouse; and in this workhouse were born; on a day and date wich I need not trouble meself ter repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence ter the reader, in this stage of the bloomin' business at all events; the item of mortality 'oose name is prefixed ter the bloody head of this chapter. Me unwed muvver, 'oo, 'ad she the willin' support of a wealffy benefactor could 'ave supported the two of us, right, but such a benefactor not bein' present, could not, found 'erself in exactly such a place some nine monffs after me conception in order ter rid 'erself of the faiffful specimen of this autobiography.
The result were, that, after a few struggles, I breaffed, sneezed, and proceeded ter set up as loud a cry as could reasonably 'ave been expected from an infant 'oo 'ad not been possessed of that right useful appendage, a voice, for a much longer space of time than free minutes and a quarter.
As I gave this first proof of the free and proper action of me lungs, the potchwork coverlet wich were carelessly flung over the iron bedstead, rustled; the pale form of me yung muvver raised from the pillow, and she promptly quit the workhouse by the front gates. It were me great pleasure ter quit the same workhouse some 16 years later by the right same gates. Determined ter make me way and find me fortune in London. The world outside the workhouse were, in fact worse than the bleedin' indentured servitude I 'ad come ter know. For the next eight or ten monffs after arrivin' in London, I were the victim of a systematic course of treachery and deception. Me new "home "were a wretched 'ouse wiv broken windows potched wiv rags and paper; evry room let out ter a different family, right, and in many instances ter two or even free. Fruit and ‘sweetstuff ’manufacturers in the cellars, barbers and red-herrin' vendors in the front parlours, cobblers in the back; a bird-fancier in the first floor, free families on the bloomin' second, starvation in the attics, bloody Irishmen in the passage, a ‘musician ’in the front kitchen, a charbint and five 'ungry children in the back one -filff evrywhere -a gutter before the ‘ouse, and a drain behind -kit dryin', right, and slops emptyin' from the bloody windows; ... men and tarts, in evry variety of scanty and dirty apparel, loungin', scoldin', drinkin', smokin', squabblin', fightin', and swearin'. I were 'owever "on me own "and determined ter make a right good show of this life I 'ad been given, and nuffink were gonna stand in me way.
I won ’t be goin ’into the atrocities that took place in that slum at Seven Dials, right, for them of yer 'oo are weak of stomach could not bear it and them strong enough ter bear it don ’t need any ideas. It did impart much wisdom, right, along wiv more than a few bruises and broken bones, upon me person.
Late one night, after werehin' oray me troubles in gin at Mad Sals, and findin' meself filled wiv the bloody courage that only strong spirits can give a yung tart 'oo already knows bettah, right, wanderin' the chuffin' streets alone, I found meself face ter chest wiv a right unkind ' lookin' man.
"Well, aren ’t yer the bloomin' pretty fink? "'e leered, and brandished a ravver large cudgel.
"Only compared ter some "I replied.
He brought 'is great 'am hand hammer and tack and wiv a loud crack I were struck dahn. Wen I came to, some great amount of time later, dirty, raped and bleedin', me mincers fell on a most peculiar lookin' man surveyin' me most earnestly from the opposite side of the way. I raised me 'ead, and returned 'is steady gaze. Upon this, he crossed over; and walkin' close up ter me, said
"I ’d fink yer should know Bill Sykes 'as no sense of 'umor "
'e wore a man's coat, wich reached nearly ter his 'eels. He 'ad turned the cuffs back, half-way up 'is arm, to cop his 'ands out of the sleeves: 'e were, right, altogeffer, as roisterin' and swaggerin' a gentleman as ever stood five feet seven, or sumfink less, in the bluchers. He 'elped me up from the street and introduced 'imself.
"Jeremy Wolffe, of Jeremy ’s Escort Service, At yor Service. "'e said givin' a bit of a bow. We gave each uvver a solid once over, each sizin' up wot sort of a prospect we might be for each uvver. And wen 'e spoke again, it were ter explain wot 'is business were about, right, and wot place 'e felt I might 'ave in it, were I so inclined. Weffer it were the bleedin' sense of freedom and independence wich a rational animal may be sposed ter feel wen given a proposal of a most reasonable kind, that if one is ter be subjected ter the indignities that befalls yung tarts quite regularly in the Dials, that the bloody offer of monetary compensation for willin' participation and more than a bit of degree of protection from unwillin' participation would ‘enceforff ensue; or weffer it were the mildness of the bleedin' gin that mollified me foughts; I were evidently tinctured, for the nonce, wiv a spice of romance and enffusiasm, foreign ter my general nature, and agreed. I ‘ave not looked back since.