“After this I broke the window of a pawnbroker’s shop as a cart was passing by, put my hand through the broken pane of glass, and carried off a bowl of gold and silver coins, and ran off with them and made my way to Chatham.
“Some time after this I was, one day at noon, in the highway between Chatham and Woolwich, when I saw a carriage come up. The postillion was driving the horses smartly along. A gentleman and lady were inside, and the butler and a female servant were on the seat behind. I leaped on the back of the conveyance as it was driving past, and took away the portmanteau with the butler’s clothes, and carried it off to the adjoining woods. I sold them to a Jew at Southampton for 3l. or 4l.
“Shortly after I came up to London, and became acquainted with a gang of young thieves in Ratcliffe Highway. I lived in a coffee-house there for about eighteen months. The boys gained their livelihood picking gentlemen’s pockets, at which I soon became expert. After this I joined a gang of men, and picked ladies’ pockets, and resided for some time at Whitechapel.
“Several years after I engaged with some other men in highway robbery. I recollect on one occasion we learned that a person was in the habit of going to one of the City banks once a week for a large sum of money—possibly to pay his workmen. He was generally in the habit of calling at other places in town on business, and carried the money with him in a blue serge bag. We followed him from the bank to several places where he made calls, until he came to a quiet by-street, near London bridge. It was a dark wintry night, and very stormy. I rushed upon him and garotted him, while one of my companions plundered him of his bag. He was a stout old man, dressed like a farmer. I was then about twenty-two years of age.
“At this time I went to music and dancing saloons, and played on my violin.
“Soon after I went to a fair at Maidstone with several thieves, all young men like myself. One of us saw a farmer in the market, a robust middle-aged man, take out his purse with a large sum of money. We followed him from the market. I went a little in advance of my companions for a distance of sixteen miles, till we came to a lonely cross turning surrounded with woods. The night happened to be dark. I went up to him and seized him by the leg, and pulled him violently off his horse, and my companions came up to assist me. While he lay on the ground we rifled his pockets of a purse containing about 500l. and some silver money. He did not make very much resistance and we did not injure him. We came back to London and shared the booty among us.
FRIENDS VISITING PRISONERS.
“About the time of the great gathering of the Chartists on Kennington Common, in 1848, I broke into a pawnbroker’s shop in the metropolis, and stole jewellery to the amount of 2,000l., consisting of watches, rings, &c., and also carried off some money. I sold the jewels to a Jewish receiver for about 500l. I was arrested some time after, and tried for this offence, and sentenced to transportation for life.
“I returned from one of the penal settlements about a year ago, and have since led an honest life.”
COINING.
THE CLASS of felonies is as prevalent as ever in the metropolis, and is carried on in many of the low neighbourhoods.
It is generally effected in this way. Take a shilling, or other sterling coin, scour it well with soap and water; dry it, and then grease it with suet or tallow; partly wipe this off, but not wholly. Take some plaster of Paris, and make a collar either of paper or tin. Pour the plaster of Paris on the piece of coin in the collar or band round it. Leave it until it sets or hardens, when the impression will be made. You turn it up and the piece sticks in the mould. Turn the reverse side, and you take a similar impression from it; then you have the mould complete. You put the pieces of the mould together, and then pare it. You make a channel in order to pour the metal into it in a state of fusion, having the neck of the channel as small as possible. The smaller the channel the less the imperfection in the “knerling.”
You make claws to the mould, so that it will stick together while you pour the metal into it. But before doing so, you must properly dry it. If you pour the hot metal into it when damp, it will fly in pieces. This is the general process by which counterfeit coin is made. When you have your coin cast, there is a “gat,” or piece of refuse metal, sticks to it. You pair this off with a pair of scissors or a knife—generally a pair of scissors—then you file the edges of the coin to perfect the “knerling.”
The coin is then considered finished, except the coating. At this time it is of a bluish colour, and not in a state fit for circulation, as the colour would excite suspicion.
You get a galvanic battery with nitric acid and sulphuric acid, a mixture of each diluted in water to a certain strength. You then get some cyanide and attach a copper wire to a screw of the battery. Immerse that in the cyanide of silver when the process of electro-plating commences.
The coin has to pass through another process. Get a little lampblack and oil, and make it into a sort of composition, “slumming” the coin with it. This takes the bright colour away, and makes it fit for circulation. Then wrap the coins up separately in paper so as to prevent them rubbing. When coiners are going to circulate them, they take them up and rub each piece separately. The counterfeit coin will then have the greatest resemblance to genuine coin, if well-manufactured.
While this is the general mode by which it is made, a skilful artificer, or keen-eyed detective can trace the workmanship of different makers.
Counterfeit coin is manufactured by various classes of people—costermongers, mechanics, tailors, and others—and is generally confined to the lower classes of various ages. Girls of thirteen years of age sometimes assist in making it.
It is made in Westminster, Clerkenwell, the Borough, Lambeth, Drury Lane, the Seven Dials, Lisson Grove, and other low neighbourhoods of the metropolis, at all hours of the day and night.
There are generally two persons engaged in making it—sometimes four. In nine cases out of ten, men and women are employed in it together. The man generally holds the mould with an iron clamp, that is an iron hook doubled in the shape of plyers or tongues to prevent the heat from burning their hands. The women generally pour the metal into it. One person could make the coin alone, but this would be too tedious. While engaged in this work, they fasten the doors of their room or dwelling, and have generally a person on the look-out they term a “crow,” in case the officers of justice should make their appearance, and detect them in the act.
The officers make a simultaneous rush into the house after having forced open the door with a blow from a sledge-hammer, so as to detect the parties in the very act of coining. On such occasions the men endeavour to destroy the mould, while the women throw the counterfeit coin into the fire, or into the melted metal, which effectually injures it. This is done to prevent the officers getting these articles into their possession, as evidence against them.
The coiners frequently throw the hot metal at the officers, or the acids they use in their coining processes, or they attempt to strike them with a chair or stool, or other weapon that comes in their way. In most cases they resist until they are overpowered and secured.
Counterfeit coin is generally made of Britannia metal spoons and other ingredients, and very seldom of pewter pots, though formerly this was the case.
Sometimes four impressions are cast from each mould at the same instant; in other cases two or three. If too near each other the powerful heat of the metal in casting half-crowns or crowns would make the mould fly. Hence there must be spaces between each impression. Smaller coins, such as sixpences or shillings, can be placed nearer each other in the mould. On each occasion when they cast the coin they blow the dust off the mould to keep it perfectly clear, so as not to injure in the slightest degree the impression. When the latter is imperfect a new mould must be made. The coiner can use the same mould again in less than a minute to make other counterfeit coins.
Sometimes a quart basinful is made on a single occasion; at other times a very small quantity only.
The coiners have agents
at different public-houses to dispose of their counterfeit coin, and some of them stand in the street to sell it. Sometimes it is sold to their private agents in their own dwellings, or sent out to parties who purchase it from them. The latter parties generally pay 1d. for a shilling’s worth. Then these agents sell it to the utterers for 2d. a shilling, 3d. for two shillings, 3½d. for a half-crown, and 4d. a crown. Some coiners charge 5d. for five shillings’ worth.
The detection of counterfeit coin in the metropolis is under the able management of Mr. Brennan, a skilful and experienced public officer, who keeps a keen surveillance over this department of crime.
In 1855 Mr. Brennan, along with Inspector Bryant of G division, and other officers, went to the neighbourhood of Kent Street for the purpose of apprehending a person of the name of Green, better known by the cognomen of “Charcoal.” The street door was open, and the officers proceeded to the top floor up a winding staircase. The house consisted of three floors. On passing upstairs they were met by three men on the top landing, very robust, their ages averaging from twenty-four to thirty-six. One of them, named Brown, was a noted Devonshire wrestler, and a powerful-bodied man.
These men attempted to force their way down. Mr. Brennan manfully resisted and tried to keep them up, and force them back into the room. Brown leaped over him while struggling with the other two. On Mr. Brennan’s son and Inspector Bryant coming up to his assistance, the other two men were arrested and secured in the yard.
A third man came out of the room and was passing by Mr. Brennan, and in doing so hit him on the head with a saucepan, and forced him against the staircase window. His son came up to his assistance, when he struck this new assailant on the arm with a crowbar, and partially disabled him. At this time the frame of the staircase window gave way, and he fell into the court.
One of the men in the house jumped from the window of the staircase on the roof of a shed, and fell right through it, and was followed by Constable Neville of the G division, who jumped after him and secured him. The former was a man of about five feet eight inches high, powerfully built. Other two men were beat back into the room and secured along with two women. Five out of a party of seven men were arrested, and the other two effected their escape. The officers only expected to see one man and a woman coining in this house.
After they succeeded in forcing the two men back into the room, the man named “Charcoal” struggled desperately, and used every effort to smash the mould. They found sufficient fragments of it as evidence against them that they had been making half-crowns, shillings, and sixpences, besides a large quantity of counterfeit coin.
The officers were obliged to remain in the house and yard until they sent to the police station for additional assistance. The prisoners were tried at the Old Bailey and sentenced to various terms of imprisonment, from six months to fourteen years. The Recorder from the bench recommended to Mr. Brennan a compensation of 10l. for the manly and efficient part he had acted on this trying occasion.
In 1845 Mr. Brennan received information that a man who resided at Bath Place, Old Street Road, was making counterfeit coin. This house consisted of two rooms, the one above the other. Mr. Brennan went there, accompanied by Sergeant Cole of the G division, leaving a police constable at the end of the court. He broke open the door with a sledge-hammer, and attempted to run upstairs, and was met at the door by the coiner, who tried to rush back into the room, when the former seized him by a leathern apron he had on. In the struggle both he and Mr. Brennan were hurled down to the bottom of the staircase, a distance of eleven steps. The officer was severely injured on the back of the head, and the coiner’s knee struck against his belly, yet this brave officer, though severely injured, kept hold of the coiner.
At this time Cole was struggling with the coiner’s wife and daughter, while their bull-dog seized him by the leg of his trousers. The dog kept hold of him for about twenty-five minutes. Latterly the three parties were secured.
Meanwhile the constable whom he had left at the end of the court heard the disturbance, and entered and assisted in securing the prisoners.
The woman was tall and masculine in appearance, and the girl was thirteen years of age.
On securing this desperate coiner Mr. Brennan proceeded upstairs, and found four galvanic batteries in full play, and about five hundred pieces of counterfeit coin in various stages of manufacture—crowns, half-crowns, shillings, and sixpences. The prisoner was committed to Newgate for trial. His wife was acquitted, she having acted under his direction. He was sentenced to fifteen years’ transportation. The girl was sentenced to two years’ imprisonment for the exceedingly active part she had taken in the affair.
Mr. Brennan on this occasion was severely injured in his gallant struggle.
Several years ago Mr. Brennan went to apprehend a man of the name of Morris near Westminster. The street-door of the house, which consisted of three stories, was shut, but was suddenly burst open by the blow of a sledge-hammer. On running up to the top floor he found his hat struck against something, and found there was a flap let down over the “well” of the staircase, which was dreadfully armed with iron spikes of about three or four inches long, and about the same distance apart, and it seemed utterly impossible to force it up.
The man meantime effected his escape through the roof, and ran along the roofs and jumped a depth of twenty-five feet on the roof of a shed, and was much injured. He was carried away by his friends to Birmingham, and kept in an hospital till he recovered. He then left London for two years.
Afterwards he made his appearance in the neighbourhood of Kent Street in the Borough, where Mr. Brennan went to apprehend him, assisted by several other officers. He paid him a visit at seven o’clock on a winter’s evening. The coiner was sitting in the middle of the floor making half-crowns. One of the windows of the house was open. On hearing the officers approach he jumped clean out of the window on the back of an officer who was stationed there to watch—the height of one story. Mr. Brennan followed him as he ran off without his coat along some adjoining streets, and caught sight of him passing through a back door that led into some gardens. Here he fled into a house, the floor of which went down a step. There was a bed in the room with three children in it. Mr. Brennan missed his footing, and fell across the bed, and narrowly escaped injuring one of the children by the fall. The father and mother of the children were standing at the fire. The man stepped forward to the officer and was about to use violence, when Mr. Brennan told him who he was and his errand, which quieted him.
Meantime Mr. Brennan tripped up the coiner as he was endeavouring to escape, and threw him on the floor, secured him and put him into a cab, where a low mob, which had meantime gathered in this disreputable neighbourhood, tried to rescue the coiner from the hands of the officers. They threw brickbats, stones, and other missiles to rescue the prisoner.
While the officers were conveying him to the police-station this coiner while handcuffed endeavoured to throw himself in a fit of frantic passion beneath the wheels of a waggon to destroy himself, but was prevented by the officers. When in Horsemonger Gaol he refused for a time to take any food.
He was tried at the Old Bailey, and sentenced to thirty years’ transportation for coining and assaulting the officers in the execution of their duty.
Number of cases of coining in the metropolitan districts for 1860 6
Ditto ditto in the City 0
6
Number of cases of putting or uttering base coin, &c., in the metro-politan districts 616
Forgers.
Forgery is the fraudulent making or altering a written instrument, to the detriment of another person. To constitute a forgery it is not necessary that the whole instrument should be fictitious. Making an insertion, alteration, or erasure, on any material part of a genuine document, by which any of the lieges may be defrauded; the insertion of a false signature to a true instrument, or a real signature to a false one, or the altering of the date of a bill after acceptance, are all forgeries.
There are different classes of these. For example, there are forgeries of bank notes, of cheques, of acceptances, wills, and other documents.
Bank Notes.—There are many forgeries of Bank of England notes, executed principally at Birmingham. In the engraving and general appearance the counterfeit so closely resembles the genuine note, that an inexperienced eye might be easily deceived. The best way to detect them is carefully to look to the water-mark embossed in the paper, which is not like a genuine note. When the back of the former is carefully inspected, the water-mark will be found to be indented, or pressed into the paper. The paper of a forged note is generally of a darker colour than a good one. To take persons off their guard, forgers frequently make the notes very dirty, so as to give them the appearance of a much-worn good note. They are frequently uttered by pretended horse-dealers, in fairs and markets, and at hotels and public-houses by persons who pretend to be travellers, and who order goods from tradespeople in the provincial towns, and pay them with forged notes. This is often done before banking-hours on the Monday, when they might be detected, but by this time the person who may have offered them has left the town. This is the common way of putting them off in London and the other towns in England. Sometimes they utter them by sending a woman, dressed as a servant, to a public-house or to a tradesman for some article, and in this manner get them exchanged—perhaps giving the address of her master as residing in the vicinity, which is sure to be false. Tradesmen are frequently taken off their guard by this means, and give an article, often of small value, with the change in return for a note. They sometimes do not discover it to be false till several days afterwards, when it is taken to the bank and detected there.
An experienced banking clerk or a keen-eyed detective, accustomed to inspect such notes, know them at once. It sometimes happens they are so well executed that they pass through provincial banks, and are not detected till they come to the Bank of England.
The London Underworld in the Victorian Period: Authentic First-Person Accounts by Beggars, Thieves and Prostitutes: v. 1 Page 42
