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A Sixpenny Doss House in Melbourne.

A correspondent of the Melbourne " Age " thus describes his experiences of a common lodging house in that city :— Having made certain official inquiries, I determined to vi3it the Lodging House in street, which I bad ascertained to be fairly representative of its class. Attired in a threadbare suit of tweed, at which the most enterprising of Stephen -street old clothes men would have turned up his Israeliti?h uose in scorn, and wearing a battered old felt which bore the marks of many a camp ing out expedition, I presented myself at the door of the on a Saturday night, shortly before twelve o'clock. There was no bell, but a single vigorous application of the knocker summoned the proprietor in a high state of virtuous indignation at being disturbed over a game of euchre. "Why tho don't yer open the door and come in," demanded he, " 'stead of standin' there like a fool." I explained as mildly as I could that I was a stranger in search of lodgings, and having deposited a sixpence in the outstretched palm of this truculent Cerberus, I was graciously permitted to enter. •' I always gets paid in advance," he explained half apologetically, as he pocketed the coin. " 'Cause if I don't get paid in advance," he continued oracularly, " I don't get paid at all." Tacitly acknowledging the commendable prudence of the landlord, I was then ushered into a long, low room, where, dimly vis ; ble through the j dense fumes of tobacco, some twenty men were seated. Had I entered -in the garb of a gentleman, of course— the smoking room of the most exclusive club in London, my presence would not have been more contemptuously ignored than by these gutter Bnipes of Melbourne. With every desire to preserve my incognito, I had nattered myself that the indefinable something which distinguished respectability in any garb would have ensured recognition ; and it must be confessed that it slightly, wounded my self-esteem to find myself calmly accepted as a simple unit in the sum of the great unwashed. After all the pains I had taken to>" get myself up "after? the-most approved . models of the./'yags." who are periodically " sent up " by Mr Call,

lor various terms f of imprisonment, not exceeding 'twelve months, I was ashamed to find myself so completely transmogrified, i Seating myself in the most remote corner} ' of the room, 1 proceeded to take a deliberate survey of its occupants. In the course of a J tolerably extensive s experience the l BO'ene which presented itself before '< my wonder-* ing gaze was unique. Dishonoured old a^e, blear-eyed and palsied, shattered prim|e with" the indelible brand of all evil /paasicJns written on its brow, and- saddest of all — .stunted youth with the germs of orime only too apparent in its, vicious fe t attares,were blended in a picture" which' might have found a place in Dante's Inferno. The central group was the euchre party, of Which the landlord formed the/n^t prominent figure. The stakes, were coppers, with a quart of beer depending on the rub,' and all the grasping avarice*of the gambler was as apparent on the countenances of the players as if the fate of a kingdom had depended, on the odd trick. The game was eagerly watched by the lodgers sitting around, and it ' was ludicrous to'> note how, with true '•courtier's" tact,, they idpntified themselves with the fortunes of the landlord, who, by the way. had a marvellous knack of turning up the v bower. Seated a little way apart from the* card party was a knot of amateur politicians, wtio were engaged in a ho d discussion on the merits of the Licensing Bill Having heard thearguments of the teetotallers and Hconsed victuallers on the question repeated ail nauseam, I was anxious to hear an independent opinion, but I was doomed to disappointment. The debaters were unanimous in holding that a sanguinary man should have free access to a public-house on Sunday, but tfyeir views on the other provisions of the bill were vague and crude. They were inclined on the whole to grant libeial compensation to the dispossessed publicans. I have always noticed that men who have no money of their own are exceedingly liberal in dis posing of other people's ; but local option was beyond their rum- beclouded intellects. There was just one remark of a diminutive Hibernian tailor on the subject of legislation in general, however, which will bear repeating :— "Fwhat's the use in talkin', bhoys ? We pay the mimbers o' Parliamint to pass lawj, but the divit a law they pass that will benefit you and me a traneen. Shu re if we had the spirit of (an unmentionable insect) it's not here we'd be sittin' hungry and thirsty, but livin' on the fat of the land. Bad luck to noy sowl, but it's the same wheriver you go ; there's wan law for th* rich and another for the wurrikin man. If " But here the remainder of tho bellicose little tailor'? diatribe was lost in a burst of triumphant blasphemy from the card party. Need I say that the landlord's side had won ? Just as I was considering the advisability of forfeiting my 6d and exchanging the footid atmosphere of this den of horrors for the comparatively pure air of street, I was accostei by my nearest neighbour, who asked in a soft, almost feminine voice what luck I had had during the day Turning round, I found that the voice proceeded from the lips of a lad who might have sat for a portrait of Oliver Twiat Certainly not more than 18 years of age, with pinched features and attenuated frame, I recognised in him the product of long generations of disease and crime. If it be true that every human being has hie* prototype in the bruto creation, surely this boy might have said, "My alter ego ia a, ferret." He repeated his question twice while I was still pondering over the social problem of what could be done with such creatures as this, who wete born in immorality and cradled in vice. Recovering myself, I asked him what he meant. " Oh, cheese fakin'," said the young vagabond. " I didn't come down by the last shower of rain. D'ye think I'm not fly to your little game? A workin* man ain't got hands like yourn'n." I was still in the dark, but the boy speedily enlightened me by taking me into his confidence. "Oh, you needn't be skeered," he said, reassuringly. "I'm on the same lay. But times is bad here ]ust now I've been out all the bloomin' day, and I only pinched a donna (classical slang for lady) for this"— exhibiting a sealskin purse, probably worth about a pound. I expressed my sympathy for the failure of the fates to reward honestendeavour, when, apparently regretting his frankness, he suddenly asked me whether I was a " Melbourne man?" " For," he added, " 1 know most of the Melbourne covies, and blow me if I ever seen you afore." With ready mendacity I hastened to assure him that I had just landed from a Sydney boat which had arrived that day, and this explanation being satisfactory, he continued his conversation in more cordial terms than ever. Young as he was, he had already served five terms of imprisonment dating from hie release from the Industrial School. In deed, as he informed me with some degree of pride, he had just been discharged from Pentridge after "doing a twelve months' stretch " for assault and robbery. He wa9 generous too in bis way, was this young gaol bird, and offered to share with me what few shillings he had. Strange a 9 it may appear, he was half ashamed to be found lodging in such a place, and he was careful to impress upon me that he and his c moll " occupied a house in street, Fitzroy, where 1 would be made heartily welcome. Then he insisted on shouting, and over a jugful of villainous beer he seriously proposed that we should join partnership. He explained that hja mate had gone up country, and he wanted a " cove as would act square" to assist him in carrying out certain little jobs he had on hand to a successful termination. Regarding me from the standpoint of an expert, he thought I would just suit him. It had come to this then ! Taken as a professional vagrant on my first entrance to + he room, I was now accepted on unimpeachable authority as presenting all the outward semblance of a thief. It was now after two o'clock, and promiping to consider my friend's flattering offer, I proposed an adjournment to bed, as I had concluded by thia time to go through with my self-imposed contract. The remainder of the lodgerß had already retired to court the sleep which, Shakspeare tells us, "lies with the vile," and I had now an opportunity of briefly inspecting the room in all its sordid nakedness. A rough table, two rude benches, and a dilapidated rocking chair, in which, doubtless, the landlord took his afternoon siesta, constituted all the furniture. The carpetless floor was covered with the accumulated dirt of a thousand 'muddy boots 1 ; the coverless table was grimy with the prints of a thousand unclean hands ; and the green-damp stained walls and ceiling, from which the plaster had fallen in great patches, seemed as though they had been struck with some j putrid leprosy. A loathsome exhalation seemed to arise and envelope me, and I thought of Dickens's horribly realistic description of Scroofe's end in " Bleak House." Following the landlord along what ap. peared to, me to be an almost interminable passage, we at last reached the foot of a remarkably crazy looking flight of stairs which it took all my resolution to mount. There was no balustrade, andaseaoh step, oreaked under my, weight, it was with some self congratulation I found myself on the landing. Then there was another passage and another stair, and yet one more passage, before the landlord stopped, at a doorless room, .which, * r he 4j said,, contained, the .only tenantleVs bed in the house. Stioking a '

•stump of candle in a bottle whioh. etoodon the mantelshelf, be bade me a .ou^t/goqd night f aud/ departed* 'My Ideptomaniaoal ,friend,«'l ; may pay, , had disappeared. (I looked, arptona say bed-chamber,; aip found that it was'/inate'd by twelve reo.umb ; ent forms ,who>, were 'enjoying the dreamless slumber., .wMch jvobably only, , visits', those miserable, wretches to whom a bed;,6f any kind Js an unacoustomed luxury. There was absolutely no ventilation, th'egap? in the skylight being carefully stopped b|y old rags, and/the ( open doorway serving rather to let foul air in than out., The; foetid breatjis oi : the B^ep&rs,. the siokening odo.ur of upolean human flesh, and the pequHar aroma of the oimeti' made the air literally thick with noxiousvapours. Iturneddownthe indeHcribably filthy counterpane, and there, crawling, sw.arming, wriggling were oquntless myraids of , but only the pen of a Zola could revel in euch details. I was more than < satisfied with what I had seen, and I would not have braved the horrors of a whole night in that dreadful place for the fee simple of the entire street. Just one more surprise awaited me before I quitted the room. Over the mantelpiece, to my unspeakable astonishment, 1 saw a .placard announcing thatthe'room contained a certain number of cubic feet, and wae licensed to contain a proportionate number of beds ; po it ap peared after alKbat I had bpen expending a good-deal of entirely superfluous indignation. The house was licensed by the civic' authorities, and it was like my presumption fo find any fault with its internal arrangements. 1 managed to get downstairs just as the landlord was closing the door, and as I emerged into the 1 silent street I felt that, if adverse fate compelled me to make my choice. I would sooner brave the most tempestuous weather beneath the open' canopy of heaven than seek shelter in a sixpenny lodging houee.

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TAN18851128.2.11

Bibliographic details

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 130, 28 November 1885, Page 3

Word Count
2,016

A Sixpenny Doss House in Melbourne. Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 130, 28 November 1885, Page 3

A Sixpenny Doss House in Melbourne. Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 130, 28 November 1885, Page 3

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