Lydia Marie Child

In her fifteenth letter to the Boston Courier, dated March 17, 1842, Lydia Maria Child describes the plight of a young street boy, one with no definite direction or desire, yet who is continually forced to protect his interests—and his life. The young boy, as Child examines, “[leaves] record on the public heart, and will not soon be forgotten” but beneath the societal façade of remorse and delayed concern for those less fortunate, the street child is in fact the impetus for the existence of the law. Those who take their place as protectors of the peace are merely disguised prosecutors of innocence. A closer reading of the following passage in Child’s “encounter narrative,” demonstrates the pretext of law enforcement in 19th century New York:

But watchmen and constables were around him, and they have small fellowship with angels. The strong impulses that might have become overwhelming love for his race, are perverted to the bitterest hatred. He tried the universal resort of weakness against force; if they are too strong for him, he will be too cunning for them. Their cunning is roused to detect his cunning: and thus the gallows-game is played, with interludes of damnable merriment from police reports, whereat the heedless multitude laugh; while angels weep over the slow murder of a human soul.

When, oh when, will men learn that society makes and cherishes the very crimes it so fiercely punishes, and in punishing reproduces? (Child, 60).

As Child enters a brief narrative of hope for the “little ragged urchin,” she quickly detracts from her optimism and enters in back into a descriptive account of the boy’s immediate reality (60). Usage of the word “but,” instantaneously draws the reader back to the present, where “watchmen and constables were around him.” Here, “watchmen” and “constables,” were supposed to be stewards of law and public safety. The young boy--perceived as an imminent threat—is caught with them “around him,” and as the perceived protector’s of the peace encircle him, the reader is struck with a feeling of entrapment. Tangled in a web of men who “have small fellowship with angels,” the reader recognizes that these individuals actively share little community of interest with angels. Angels, understood as messengers of the divine, enter the scene, establishing a dichotomy with the agents of law. The mention of angels works only as a metaphor for moral standards, however, and not as a physical presence that might help the young child escape his bleak circumstances.

With the constables and watchmen juxtaposed against the divine spirits, Child continues describing “strong impulses that might have become overwhelming love for his race.” Critically considering this phrase, Child alludes to the human sympathy—an affinity one has for another, and that by virtue of this connection, both are equally affected by present circumstances. That is, the strength of the sympathetic impulse should have derived from human nature, because to feel sympathy is inherent, and thus potentially “overwhelming.” The watchmen and constables, however, do not feel a natural and profuse sympathy for the street boy. There seems to be a void where a connection of love between man and young child should exist. Then, Child utilizes the term “race” to describe the degree of the discrimination against the boy. His socioeconomic condition is not limited to monetary means; it places him within a caste of lesser beings, and his ragged clothes are a form of stigmatism on his exterior. It is critical to note that where these men would have been expected to feel an unbounded sympathy for the street child, they use his condition against him, as a justification for “othering” and subsequent persecution. Thus, they become “perverted,” turning away from what is just and extending to the child “the bitterest hatred,” projecting to the reader a tone of despair. The intensity of their malevolence marks the watchmen and constables as enemies of street child.

Child then shifts from the men to the actions of the child in his efforts to defend his liberty. The boy “tries the universal resort of weakness against force,” as his first strategy. His pleads that the stronger force might take mercy on the weaker one, and that is the young boy’s “universal resort.” It is a widespread tactic, but one that is typically regarded as a desperate measure. Recognizing that he is destined to fight a losing battle, the boy tries to win the pity of

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