Children of the labouring poor like these Dubliners were vulnerable to child stripping.

Local police were unsurprised when four-year-old William Lister was found wandering the bustling streets of Glasgow barefoot and in his undergarments. The vulnerable lad was inconsolable. In the dingy closes of West Howard Street, William had been robbed of all the riches any child could hope to possess in 1847. Boots, stockings, cravat, jacket and bonnet were all cruelly stripped from his helpless person by the lowest of criminals.

A child of the early 19th century would harbour many anxieties. The factory, the cane, the workhouse, the devil, the mines, the kelpies, Victorian parents and of course, the aforementioned terror of child-stripping. Indeed, this seldom cited practice became something of a plague in Britain’s industrial communities, frightening poverty-stricken parents and prompting harsh retribution from authorities.

In a typical case, a child left unattended by working parents (and children were routinely left to fend for themselves in the streets while parents worked) would be tricked or coerced by their thief to a secluded spot where they would be robbed of their clothing. There is a distinction to be drawn in law between, first, the theft of a child under the age of puberty, which is known as plagium, and, secondly, the theft from a young child, which is known as theft by child stripping.

The punishment for such a foul act was severe. As one writer recounts, the theft of a “peculiar nature, which, on account of the excessive depravity of heart which it evinces, it has always been the disposition of our practice to punish with great severity.” David Hume records the case of Janet Irvine in 1827, who was sentenced to transportation for life (being sent to an overseas colony), for stealing a rather inconsiderable tartan frock from a three-year-old child.

Precognitions could be awkward. Child complainers were often in the age range of two to 12, and when the court convened to briefly assess them, difficulties often arose. As one child, Elizabeth Johnston, succinctly put it, “I don’t know how old I am”.

In the case of Elizabeth Vallance, which is notable for having 17 charges involving 16 children, a five-year-old girl was questioned “but she can hardly be prevailed upon to speak though she had signified that she knows the [stolen shawl]”. Another seven-year-old girl was “extremely shy and could not be prevailed on to give any account of the theft”.

Historians Macraild and Neal record:

Where did such a bizarre crime sprout from? James Kelly provides one potential root in his article ‘Horrid’ and ‘infamous’ practices: the kidnapping and stripping of children. He recounts Ireland’s struggles with kidnapping in the 18th century, where victims captured on the isle were sold into slave labour in the Americas – a practice common in Scotland too. Following the end of the American War of Independence in 1783 however, the combination of falling demand for labour in the northern states, and local public hysteria over kidnapping, served to dampen business. In the place of the diminishing people smuggling racket, often involving children, child stripping rose to prominence.

Other factors abound – the new industrial lifestyle, the rapid increase in city population, the expansion of the urban underclass – but the surging crime placed a new focus on child protection. The heavy penalties reveal a deep paternalism in the early 19th century, spurred on by shell-shocked authorities attempting to grapple with the rapid transformation of social realities.

Further Reading:

Robert Shiels, ‘Theft by child stripping’ 1998 Juridical Review pp.119-12
Donald M. Macraild and Frank Neal, ‘Child-stripping in the Victorian city’ (2012) Urban History v.39, pp.431-452.
James Kelly, “‘Horrid” and “infamous” practices: the kidnapping and stripping of children’ (2018) Irish Historical Studies v.42, pp.265-292.