London Labour and the London Poor, Vol. 2 (part 5 of 7)

London Labour and the London Poor, Vol. 2 (part 5 of 7)

{ -- Curmock | 3 |..| 12 | 936 | 6| 13| 18 | .. Paddington. { -- Tame | 6 |..| 18 | 432 | 3| 8| 18 | .. { -- Humphries | 6 |..| 18 | 702 | 3| 13| 16 | .. { -- Nicolls | 3 |..| 12 | 268 | 3| 13| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Seal & | | | | | | | | { Jackson | 2 |..| 6 | 936 | 6| 26| 20 | .. Hampstead. { -- Kirtland | 1 |..| 3 | 468 | 6| 26| 20 | .. { -- Hingston | 1 |..| 3 | 117 | 3| 13| 20 | .. { -- Batterbury | 1 |..| 3 | 117 | 3| 13| 20 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Smith | 2 |..| 8 | 384 | 4| 12| 18 | .. { -- Perkins | 8 |..| 24 | 1872 | 6| 13| 18 | .. St. Pancras. { -- Reddin | 6 |..| 24 | 2304 | 6| 16| 18 | .. { -- Jay | 6 |..| 24 | 2304 | 6| 16| 18 | .. { -- M. Rose | 3 |..| 12 | 468 | 3| 13| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Eldred | 4 |..| 20 | 1920 | 6| 16| 16 | .. Islington. { -- Croot | 3 |..| 12 | 936 | 6| 13| 16 | .. { -- Speller | 2 |..| 8 | 288 | 6| 6| 16 | .. { -- J. Rose | 5 |..| 20 | 1560 | 6| 13| 16 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Piper | 3 |..| 9 | 702 | 6| 13| 18 | .. Hackney. { -- Rumball | 6 |..| 18 | 2808 | 6| 26| 18 | .. { -- Booth | 5 |..| 15 | 1170 | 6| 13| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Duggan | 3 |..| 12 | 936 | 6| 13| 16 | .. { -- Freeman | 4 |..| 16 | 624 | 3| 13| 18 | .. St. Giles’s. { -- Bugbee | 2 |..| 8 | 768 | 6| 16| 18 | .. { -- Wall | 2 |..| 8 | 288 | 6| 6| 19 | .. { -- Mildwater | 2 |..| 6 | 180 | 6| 5| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Reddin |10 |..| 50 | 3900 | 6| 13| 18 | .. _St. Giles’s { -- Bugbee |10 |..| 50 | 3900 | 6| 13| 18 | .. Improvements._ { -- North | 3 |..| 12 | 432 | 6| 6| 18 | .. { -- Nicolls | 5 |..| 20 | 1560 | 6| 13| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Piper | 4 |..| 16 | 384 | 6| 4 | 18 | .. Strand. { -- Reddin | 5 |..| 20 | 480 | 6| 4 | 18 | .. { -- Ellis | 3 |..| 12 | 180 | 3| 5 | 18 | .. { -- Cooper | 3 |..| 12 | 108 | 3| 3 | 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Lovell | 2 |..| 8 | 312 | 3| 13| 18 | .. Holborn. { -- M’Carthy | 6 |..| 24 | 1872 | 6| 13| 18 | .. { -- Wells | 3 |..| 12 | 468 | 3| 13| 18 | .. { -- Ellis | 3 |..| 12 | 324 | 3| 9| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | _Holborn { -- Reddin |20 |..| 80 | 6240 | 6| 13| 18 | .. and New { -- Bugbee |10 |..| 40 | 3120 | 6| 13| 18 | .. Oxford-street { -- Nicolls | 5 |..| 20 | 480 | 3| 8| 18 | .. Improvements._ { -- Ellis | 6 |..| 24 | 936 | 3| 13| 18 | .. { -- T. Brown | 3 |..| 12 | 624 | 4| 13| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Wood | 4 |..| 16 | 576 | 6| 6| 18 | .. { -- Johnstone | 3 |..| 15 | 360 | 6| 4| 17 | .. Clerkenwell. { -- Clarkson | 6 |..| 24 | 432 | 6| 3| 16 | .. { -- North | 3 |..| 12 | 144 | 3| 4| 18 | .. { -- J. Brown | 2 |..| 6 | 180 | 6| 5| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Rhodes | 5 |..| 20 | 500 | 5| 5| 18 | .. St. Luke’s. { -- Wood | 5 |..| 20 | 360 | 3| 6| 18 | .. { -- Dodd | 5 |..| 20 | 1200 | 6| 10| 16 | .. { -- Gould |10 |..| 30 | 2340 | 6| 13| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Pratt & | | | | | | | | { Sewell | 3 |..| 9 | 351 | 3| 13| 18 | .. East London. { -- Tomkins | 2 |..| 6 | 234 | 3| 13| 18 | .. { -- Crook | 2 |..| 6 | 234 | 3| 13| 18 | .. { -- Abbott | 2 |..| 8 | 384 | 6| 8| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Pine | 3 |..| 12 | 324 | 3| 9| 18 | .. { -- Monk | 3 |..| 12 | 780 | 5| 13| 18 | .. Poplar. { -- Tingey | 2 |..| 8 | 240 | 3| 10| 18 | .. { -- Gabriel | 4 |..| 16 | 624 | 3| 13| 18 | .. { -- Jones | 3 |..| 12 | 192 | 4| 4| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | St. George’s,{ -- Reddin |10 |..| 40 | 3120 | 6| 13| 18 | .. { -- G. Whitten | 2 |..| 10 | 780 | 6| 13| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | St. Olave’s, { -- Webbon | 3 |..| 12 | 936 | 6| 13| 18 | .. { -- Reddin |10 |..| 40 | 3120 | 6| 13| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | _St. { -- Bugbee | 2 |..| 6 | 72 | 3| 4| 18 | .. Saviour’s, { -- Ryder | 2 |..| 6 | 72 | 3| 4| 18 | .. Southwark._ { -- Wright | 1 |..| 3 | 36 | 3| 4| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Peake | 5 |..| 20 | 3120 | 6| 26| 18 | .. { -- Duckett |12 |..| 36 | 5616 | 6| 26| 18 | .. Bermondsey. { -- Elworthy | 8 |..| 24 | 3744 | 6| 26| 18 | .. { -- Slee | 5 |..| 20 | 3120 | 6| 26| 18 | .. { -- Adams | 4 | 2| 20 | 4680 | 6| 39| 18 | 18 | | | | | | | | { -- Gutteris | 3 |..| 9 | 270 | 6| 5| 18 | .. Newington. { -- Crawley | 2 |..| 8 | 256 | 4| 8| 18 | .. { -- Martainbody| 6 |..| 24 | 960 | 4| 10| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Nicholson | 5 |..| 15 | 1170 | 6| 13| 17 | .. Wandsworth. { -- Mears | 3 |..| 6 | 468 | 6| 13| 17 | .. { -- Parsons | 4 |..| 16 | 864 | 6| 9| 17 | .. { -- Easton | 3 |..| 15 | 720 | 6| 8| 17 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- J. Whitton |10 |..| 40 | 2080 | 4| 13| 19 | .. Lambeth. { -- G. Whitton | 8 |..| 24 | 1248 | 4| 13| 19 | .. { -- Kenning | 2 |..| 10 | 390 | 3| 13| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Hook | 6 |..| 18 | 540 | 3| 10| 18 | .. { -- Michel | 2 |..| 8 | 384 | 6| 8| 18 | .. Camberwell. { -- Marsland | 2 |..| 8 | 128 | 4| 4| 18 | .. { -- Walton | 2 |..| 6 | 144 | 4| 6| 18 | .. { -- Evans | 1 |..| 3 | 90 | 6| 5| 18 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Walker |10 |..| 30 | 3240 | 6| 18| 15 | .. { -- Brown | 8 |..| 24 | 936 | 3| 13| 18 | .. Rotherhithe. { -- Hobman | 2 |..| 36 | 1404 | 3| 13| 18 | .. { -- East | 6 |..| 18 | 702 | 3| 13| 18 | .. { -- Stevens | 5 |..| 20 | 1560 | 6| 13| 15 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Jeffry | 2 |..| 10 | 600 | 6| 10| 15 | .. Greenwich. { -- Turtle | 5 |..| 15 | 720 | 6| 8| 14 | .. { -- Hiscock | 2 |..| 6 | 432 | 6| 12| 17 | .. { -- Allen | 2 |..| 10 | 780 | 6| 13| 12 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Connall | 5 |..| 10 | 1560 | 6| 26| 16 | .. { -- Waller | 3 |..| 6 | 468 | 6| 13| 15 | .. { -- Miller | 6 |..| 12 | 936 | 6| 13| 15 | .. { -- Fuller | 8 |..| 16 | 960 | 6| 10| 15 | .. Woolwich. { -- Barnes | 4 |..| 12 | 648 | 6| 9| 15 | .. { -- Sharpe |12 |..| 36 | 1404 | 3| 13| 15 | .. { -- Taylor | 8 |..| 24 | 2016 | 6| 14| 15 | .. { -- Ginno | 5 |..| 20 | 780 | 3| 13| 15 | .. { -- Millard | 4 |..| 10 | 390 | 3| 13| 15 | .. { -- Graham | 3 |..| 9 | 270 | 3| 10| 15 | .. | | | | | | | | { -- Peakes | 5 |..| 15 | 810 | 6| 9| 15 | .. Lewisham. { -- Wellard | 3 |..| 12 | 936 | 6| 13| 15 | .. { -- Fleckell | 6 |..| 18 | 1404 | 6| 13| 15 | .. { -- Hollis | 4 |..| 12 | 288 | 3| 8| 15 | .. ----------------+---+--+----+------+--+---+----+---- Total |840|15|3134|259831| | | |

The rubbish-carters are paid by week, 18_s._ to 20_s._ being the weekly amount; and by the load, which is indeed piece-work. The payment to the operatives by the load varies from 6_d._ to 1_s._ 6_d._, for it is necessarily regulated by the distance to be traversed. If the rubbish have to be carted a mile to its destination--or, as the men call it, to “the shoot”--of course it is to be so conveyed at a proportionally lower rate than if it had to be driven two or three miles. The employment of men by the load, however, becomes less every year, and the reason, I am assured, is this:--The great stress of the labour falls upon the horse. If the animal be strong and manageable, a man, for the sake of conveying an extra load a day, might overtax its powers, injure it gradually, and deteriorate its strength and its value. The operative carters, on their part, have complained that sometimes even “good” employers have set them to work by the load with “hard old horses,” which no management could get out of their slow, long-accustomed pace. Thus a man might clear by the piece-work but 1_s._ 6_d._ a day, with a horse not worth 15_l._; while another carter, with a superior animal worth twice as much, might clear 3_s._ or 3_s._ 6_d._ Some “hard” masters, I was informed, liked these old horses, because they were bought cheap, and though they brought in less than superior animals they were easier kept; while if less were earned by the piece-work with such horses, less was paid in wages; and if the horse broke its leg, or was killed, or injured, it was more easily replaced. This mode of employment is, as I have said, less and less carried into effect; but it is still one of the ways in which a working carter may be made a sufferer, because a principal accessary of his work--the horse--may not be capable of the requisite exertion.

The nominal wages of the rubbish-carters in the best employ are from 18_s._ to 20_s._ a week; in the worse-paid trade 15_s._ is the more general price; but even as little as 12_s._ is given by some masters.

The actual wages are the same as the nominal in the honourable trade, with the addition of perquisites in beer to the men of from 1_s._ to 2_s._ weekly, and of “findings,” especially to the carmen, of an amount I could not ascertain, but perhaps realizing 6_d._ a week. One carman put all he found on one side to buy new year’s clothes for his children, and on new year’s eve last year he had 48_s._ 0-1/2_d._, “money, and what brought money;” but this is far from an usual case.

The rate of wages paid to the operative rubbish-carters throughout the different districts of London, I find, by inquiries in each locality, to be by no means uniform. For instance, at Hampstead the wages are unexceptionally 20_s._ per week; while at Kensington, Chelsea, and indeed the whole of the west districts of London, they are 18_s._ weekly; in St. Martin’s parish, however, 19_s._ a week is paid by two masters. In the north districts again, 18s. a week is generally paid; with the exception of Hampstead, where the weekly wages for the same labour are as high as 20_s._, and Islington, where they are as low as 16_s._ In the central districts, too, the wages are generally 18_s._; the lower rate of 17_s._ and 16_s._ per week being paid in certain places by “cutting” and “grasping” individuals, who form isolated exceptions to the rule. In a certain portion of the eastern districts, such as Bethnal Green, St. George’s in the East, and Stepney, 16_s._ and 15_s._ a week appears to be the rule; while in Shoreditch and Poplar 18_s._ is paid by all the masters. The southern districts of the metropolis are equally irregular in their rates of wages. Lewisham pays as low as 15_s._, and Woolwich the same weekly sum, with one exception. Wandsworth, on the other hand, pays uniformly 17_s._; while in Southwark, Bermondsey, Newington, and Camberwell, the wages paid by all are 18_s._ In Lambeth as much as 19_s._ is given by two masters out of three; whereas, in Greenwich one master pays 14_s._, and the other even as low as 12_s._ a week. When I come to treat of the lower-paid trade, I shall explain the causes of the above difference as regards wages.

The analysis of the facts I have collected on this subject is as follows:--Out of 180 masters, employing among them 840 men, there are--

Wages per Week. 5 masters employing 11 men, and paying 20_s._ 5 „ „ 30 „ „ 19_s._ 127 „ „ 605 „ „ 18_s._ 6 „ „ 20 „ „ 17_s._ 16 „ „ 70 „ „ 16_s._ 19 „ „ 97 „ „ 15_s._ 1 „ „ 5 „ „ 14_s._ 1 „ „ 2 „ „ 12_s._

Hence, three-fourths of the operatives may be said to receive 18_s._ weekly, and about one-sixth 16_s._

The perquisites in this trade are more in beer than in money, nor are they derived from the employers, unless exceptionally. They are given to the rubbish-carters by the owners of the premises where they work, and may, in the best trade, amount, in beer or in money to buy beer, to from 1_s._ 6_d._ to 2_s._ weekly per man. The other perquisites are what is found in the digging of the rubbish for the carts, and in the shooting of it. As in other trades of a not dissimilar character, there appears to be no fixed rule as to “treasure trove.” One man told me that in digging or shovelling each man kept what he found; another said the men drank it. Anything found, however, when the cart is emptied is the perquisite of the carman. “It’s luck as is everything;” said one carman. “There was a mate of mine as hadn’t not no better work nor me, once found an old silver coin, like a bad half-crown, as a gen’lman he knowed gave him five good shillings for, and he found a silver spoon as fetched 1_s._ 9_d._, in one week, and that same week on the same ground I got nothing but five bad ha’pennies. I once worked in the City where the Sun office now is, just by the Hall of Commerce in Threadneedle-street, and something was found in the Hall as now is; it was a French church once; and an old gent gave us on the sly 1_s._ a day for beer, to show him or tell him of anything we turned up queer. We did show him things as we thought queer, and they looked queer, but he all’us said ‘Chi-ish,’ or ‘da-amn.’ From what I’ve heard him say to another old cove as sometimes was with him, they looked for something Roman Catholic.” My informant no doubt meant “Roman,” as in digging the foundations of the Hall of Commerce a tesselated Roman pavement was found at a great depth.

Among these workmen are no Trade Societies, no Benefit or Sick-Clubs, and, indeed, no measures whatever for the upholding of accustomed wages, or providing “for a rainy day,” unless individually. If a rubbish-carter be sick, the men in the same employ, whatever their number, 10 or 40, contribute on the Saturday evenings 6_d._ each, towards his support, until the patient’s convalescence. There are no Houses of Call.

The payment is in the master’s yard on the Saturday evening, and always in money. There are no drawbacks, unless for any period during the hours of regular labour, when a man may have been absent from his work. Fines there are none, except in large establishments among the carmen where many horses are kept, and then, if a man do not keep his regular stable-hours in the mornings, especially the Sunday mornings, he is fined 6_d._ These fines are spent by the carmen generally, and most frequently in beer.

The usual way of applying for work is to call at the yards or premises, or, more frequently, to take a round in the districts where it is known that buildings or excavations are being carried on, to inquire of the men if a hand be wanted. Sometimes a foreman may be there who has authority to “put on” new hands; if not, the applicant, with the prospect of an engagement in view, calls upon any party he may be directed to. Several men told me that when they were engaged nothing was said about character. The employers seem to be much influenced by the applicant’s appearance.

I must now give a brief description of the rubbish-carter, and the scene of his labours.

Any one who observes, and does not merely see, the labour of the rubbish-carter, will have been struck with the stolid indifference with which these men go about their work, however much the scene of their labours, from its historical associations, may interest the better informed. So it was when the rubbish carters were employed in removing the ruins of the old Houses of Parliament, and of that portion of the Tower which suffered from the ravages of the fire; and so it would be if they were directed to-morrow to commence the demolition and rubbish-carting of Westminster Abbey, the Temple Church, or St. Paul’s, even in their present integrity.

Sometimes the scene of the rubbish-carter’s industry presents what may be called a “piteous aspect.” This was not long ago the case in Cannon-street, City, and the adjacent courts and alleys; when the houses had been cleared of their furniture, the windows were removed (giving the house what may be styled a “blind” look); most of the doors had been taken away, as well as some of the floors. Large cyphers, scrawled in whitewash on the walls and woodwork, intimated the different “lots,” and all spoke of desertion; the only moving thing to be seen, perhaps, was some flapping paper, torn from the sides of a room and which fluttered in the wind.

A scene of exceeding bustle follows the apparent desolateness of the premises. When the whole has been disposed of to the several purchasers, the further and final work of demolition begins. Baskets filled with the old bricks are rapidly lowered by ropes and pulleys into the carts below, it being the carter’s business to empty them, and then up the empty baskets are drawn, as if by a single jerk. The sound of the hammer used in removing and separating the old bricks of the building, the less frequent sound of the pick-axe, the rumble of the stones and bricks into the cart, the noise of the pulleys, the shouts of the men aloft, crying “be-low there!” the half-articulate exclamations of the carters choked with dust, form a curious medley of noises. The atmosphere is usually a cloud of dust, which sticks to the men’s hair like powder. The premises are boarded round, and if adjoining a thoroughfare the boards are closely fitted, to prevent the curious and the loiterers obstructing the current of passengers. The work within is confined to the labourers; “no persons admitted except on business” seems a rule rigidly enforced. The only men inside who appear idle are the over-lookers, or surveyors. They stand with their hands in their breeches’ pockets; and a stranger to the business might account them uninterested spectators, but for the directions they occasionally give, now quietly, and now snappishly; while the Irishmen show an excessive degree of activity, the assumption of which never deceives an overlooker.

From twelve to one is the customary dinner-hour, and then all is quiet. On visiting some new buildings at Maida-hill, I found seven men, out of about 30, all fast asleep in the nooks and corners of the piles of bricks and rubbish, the day being fine. The others were eating their dinners at the public-houses or at their own homes.

In the progress of pulling down, the work of removal goes on very rapidly where a strong force is employed--the number varying from about twelve to 30 men. A four-storied house is often pulled down to its basement, and the contents of the walls, floors, &c., removed, in ten days or a fortnight.

As the work of demolition goes on, the rubbish-carter loads the cart with the old bricks, mortar, and refuse which the labourers have displaced. In some places, where a number of buildings is being removed at the same time, an inclined plane or road is formed by the rubbish-carters, up and down which the horses and vehicles can proceed. Until such means of carriage have been employed, the rubbish from the interior foundation is often shot in a mound within the premises, and carried off when the way has been formed, excepting such portion as may be retained for any purpose.

In hot weather, many of the rubbish-carters in the fair trade work in their shirts, a broad woollen belt being strapped round the waist, which, they say, supports “the small of the back” in their frequent bending and stooping. Some wear woollen night-caps at this work when there is much dust; and nearly all the men in the honourable trade wear the “strong men’s” half-boots, laced up in the front, as the best protectors of the feet from the intrusion of rubbish.

In the cold weather, the rubbish-carter’s working dress is usually a suit of strong drab-white fustian. The suit comprises a jacket with two large pockets. The cost of such a suit, new, at a slop-tailor’s, is from 28_s._ to 35_s._; from a good shop, and of better materials, 40_s._ to 55_s._ Some prefer stout corduroy to fustian trowsers; and some work in short smock-frocks.

Having thus shown the nature of the work, the class of men employed, and the amount of remuneration, I proceed to describe the characteristics of the rubbish-carters employed by the honourable masters; I will then describe the state of the labourers who are casually rather than constantly employed; and finally speak of the condition and habits of the lower-paid workers under the cheap masters.

The Ability to Read and Write.--I think I heard of fewer instances of defective education among the rubbish-carters than among other classes of unskilled labourers. The number of men who could read and not write, I found computed at about one-half. It appears that the children of these men are very generally sent to school, which is certainly a healthful sign as to the desire of the parents to do justice to their offspring. As among other classes, I met with uneducated men who had exaggerated notions of the advantages of the capability of reading and writing, and men who possessed such capability representing it as a worthless acquirement.

The majority of the Rubbish-Carters in the honourable trade are, I am informed, really married men, and have families “born in lawful wedlock.” One decent and intelligent man, to whom I was referred, said (his wife being present and confirming his statement): “I don’t know how it is, sir, but they say one scabbed sheep will affect a flock.” “Oh! it’s dreadful,” said the wife; “but some way it seems to run in places. Now, we’ve lived among people much in our own way of life in Clerkenwell, and Pentonville, and Paddington. Well, we’ve reason to believe, that there wasn’t much living together unmarried in Clerkenwell or Pentonville, but a goodish deal in Paddington. I don’t know why, for they seemed to live one with another, just as men do with their wives. But if there’s daughters, sir, as is growing up and gets to know it, as they’re like enough to do, ain’t it a bad example? Yes, indeed,” said the wife, “and I’m told they call going together in that bad way--they ought all to be punished--without ever entering a church or chapel, getting ‘ready married.’” I inquired if they were not perhaps married quietly at the Registrar’s office? “O, that,” said Mrs. B----, “ain’t like being married at all. I would never have consented to such a way, but I’m pretty certain they don’t as much as do that. No, sir,” (in answer to another inquiry), “I hope, and think, it ain’t so bad among young couples as it was, but its bad enough as it is, God he knows.” The proportions of Wedlock and Concubinage I could not learn, for the woman, I was assured, always took the man’s name; and both man and woman, unless in their cups or their quarrels, declared they were man and wife, only there was no good in wasting money to get their “marriage lines” all for no use.

The Politics of the rubbish-carters are, I am assured by some of the best informed among them, of no fixity, or principle, or inclination whatever, as regards one-half of the entire body; and that the other half, whether ignorant or not, are Chartists, the Irish generally excepted; and they, I understood, as I had learned on previous occasions, had no political opinions, unless such as were entertained by their priests. Strong, rude, and ignorant as many of these carters are, I am told that few of them took part in any public manifestation of opinion, or in any disturbance, unless they were out of work. “I think I know them well,” one of their body said to me, “and as long as they have pretty middling of work, it’ll take a very great thing indeed to move ’em. If they was longish out of work and felt a pinch, very likely they’d be found ready for anything.”

With respect to Free Trade, I am told that these men sometimes discuss it, and formerly discussed it far more frequently among themselves, but that it was not above one in a dozen, and of the better sort only, who cared to talk about it either now or then. There seems no doubt that the majority, whether they understand its principles and working or not, are favourable to it; I may say, from all I could learn, that the great majority are. I heard of one rubbish-carter, formerly a small farmer, who left London for some other employment, in the spring, contending, and taking pains to enforce his conviction, that Free Trade would ruin the best interests of rubbish-carters, as year by year there would be more agricultural labourers resorting to the great towns to look for such work as rubbish-carting, for every farmer would employ more Irish labourers at his own terms, and even the 8_s._ a week, the extent of the earnings of the agricultural labourers in some parishes, would be undersold by the Irish. Last winter, he said, very many countrymen came to London, and would do so the next, and more and more every year, and so make labour cheaper.

As far as I could extend my inquiries and observations, this man’s arguments--although I cannot say I heard any one offer to controvert them--were not considered sound, nor his facts fully established. There were certainly great numbers of good hands out of employment last winter, and many new applicants for work; “but buildings,” I was told by a carman, “are of course always slacker carried on in the winter. Now, this year, so far (beginning of October), things seem to promise pretty well in our business, and so if it’s good this winter and was bad the last, why, as there’s the same Free Trade, it seems as if it had nothing to do with it. There’s not so much building going on now as there was a few years ago, but trade’s steadier, I think.”

Other rubbish-carters, in the best trade, said that they had found little difference for six or eight years, only as bread was cheaper or dearer; and, if Free Trade made bread cheap, no man ought to say a word against it, “no matter about anything else.” Of course I give these opinions as they came to me.

As to Food, these labourers, when in full work, generally live what they consider well; that is, they eat meat and have beer to their meals every day. Three of them told me that they could not say what their living cost separately, as they took all their meals at home with their families, their wives laying out the money. One couple had six children, and the husband said they cost him about 17_s._ a week in food, or about 2_s._ 6_d._ per head, reckoning a pint of beer a day for himself, and not including the youngest, which was an infant at the breast. The father earned 22_s._ weekly, and the eldest child, a boy, 3_s._ 6_d._ a week for carrying out and collecting the papers for a news’-agent. The wife could earn nothing, although an excellent washerwoman, the cares of her family occupying her whole time. She always had “the cold shivers,” she said, “if ever she thought of John’s being out of work, but he was a steady man, and had been pretty fortunate.” If these men were engaged on a job at any distance, they sometimes breakfasted before starting, or carried bread and butter with them, and eat it to a pint of coffee if near enough to a coffee-shop, but in some places they were not near enough. Their dinners they carried with them, generally cold meat and bread, in a basin covered with a plate, a handkerchief being tied round it so as to keep the plate firm and afford a hold to the bearer. “It’s not always, you see, sir,” said a rubbish-carter, “that there’s a butcher’s shop near enough to run to and buy a bit of steak and get it dressed at a tap-room fire, just for buying a pint of beer, and have a knife and fork, and a plate, and salt found you into the bargain, and pepper and mustard too, if you’ll give the girl or the man 1_d._ a week or so. But we’re glad to get a good cold dinner. O, as to beer, it would be a queer out-of-the-way place indeed where a landlord didn’t send out a man to a building with beer.” One single man, who told me he was only a small eater, gave me the following as his daily bill of fare, as he rarely took any meals at his lodgings:

s. d. Half-quartern loaf 0 2-3/4 Butter 0 1 Coffee (twice a day) 0 3 Eleven o’clock beer, sometimes a pint and sometimes half-a-pint, but often obtained as a perquisite (average) 0 1-1/2 1/2 lb. of beef steak, or a chop, or four or five pennyworth of cold meat from a cook-shop (average) 0 5 Potatoes 0 1 Dinner beer 0 2 Bread and cheese and beer for supper 0 4 ------------ 1 8-1/4

This was the average cost of his daily food, while on Sundays he generally paid 1_s._ 6_d._ for breakfast and tea, and a good dinner off a hot joint with baked potatoes from the oven, along with the family and other lodgers. He had a good walk every Sunday morning, he said, but liked to sleep away the afternoon. He found his own Sunday beer, costing 4_d._ dinner and supper, but he didn’t eat anything at supper, as he wasn’t inclined after resting all day, and so his weekly expenses in food were:--

s. d. Six working days, at 1_s._ 8-1/4_d._ a day 10 1-1/2 Sunday 1 10 ------------ Week’s food 11 11-1/2

To this, in the way of drink or luxuries, I might add, the carter said, 2_d._ a day for gin (although he wasn’t a drinker and was very seldom tipsy), “for I treat a friend to a quartern one day and may-be he stands treat the next.” Also 4_d._ for Sunday gin, as he and the other men took a glass just before dinner for an appetite, and he took one after dinner to send him asleep. Add, too, 3_d._ a week for tobacco. In all 1_s._ 7_d._, which swells the weekly cost of eating, drinking, and smoking to 13_s._ 6-1/2_d._ His washing was 4_d._ a week (he washed his working jacket and trowsers himself), his rent 2_s._ 6_d._ for a bed to himself; so that, 16_s._ 4-1/2_d._ being spent out of an earning of 18_s._, he had but 1_s._ 5-1/2_d._ a week left for his clothes, shoes, &c. If he wanted a shilling or two for anything, he said, he knocked off his supper, and then nothing was allowed in his reckoning for perquisites, so he might be 2_s._ in hand, at least 2_s._, every week in a regular way of living. This man expressed his conviction that no man, who had to work hard, could live at smaller cost than he did. That numbers of men did so, he admitted, but he “couldn’t make it out.” The two ways of living which I have described may be taken as the modes prevalent among this class of labourers, who seek to live “comfortably.” Others who “rough it” live at less cost, dining, for instance, off a pennyworth of pudding and half a pint of beer.

I ascertained that among the rubbish-carters, those most frequently attendant on public worship are the Irish Roman Catholics, and such Englishmen as had been agricultural labourers in rural parishes, and had been reared in the habit of church-going; a habit in which, but not without many exceptions, they still persevere. Among London-bred labourers such habits are rarely formed.

The abodes of the better description of rubbish-carters are not generally in those localities which are crowded with the poor. They reside in the streets off the Edgeware and Harrow-roads, as building has been carried on to a very great extent in Westbourne, Maida-hill, &c.; in Portland-town, Camden-town, Somers-town, about King’s-cross; in Islington, Pentonville, and Clerkenwell; off the Commercial and Mile-end-roads; in Walworth, Camberwell, Kennington, and Newington; and, indeed, in all the quarters where building has been prosecuted on an extensive scale. I was in some of their apartments, and found them tidy and comfortable-looking: one was especially so. Some stone-fruit on the mantel-shelf shone as if newly painted, and the fender and fire-irons glittered from their brightness to the fire of the small grate. The husband, however, was in good earnings, and the wife cleared about 5_s._ weekly on superior needlework. There was one thing painful to observe--the contrast between the robust and sun-burnt look of the husband, and the delicate and pallid, not to say sickly, appearance of the wife. The rents for unfurnished apartments vary from 2_s._ to 5_s._, but rarely the latter, unless the wife take in a little washing. I heard of some at 2_s._, but very few; 2_s._ 6_d._ to 3_s._ 6_d._ are common prices.

I heard of no partiality for amusements among the rubbish-carters, beyond what my informant spoke of--a visit to the play. Some, I was told, but principally the younger men, never missed going to a fair, which was not too far off. I think not quite one-half of those I spoke to, with the best earnings, had been to the Exhibition. Of the worst paid, I am told, not one in 50 went; one man told me that he had no amusements but his pipe and his beer. Some of them, I was assured, drank half a gallon of beer in a day, but at intervals, so as not to be intoxicated. “A hand at cribbage” is a favourite public-house game among a few of these men; but not above one in half-a-dozen, I was assured, “knew the cards,” and not one in two dozen played them.

These, then, are the characteristics of the labouring rubbish-carters employed in the honourable trade.

A fine-looking man, upwards of six feet in stature and of proportionate bulk, with so smart a set to his bushy whiskers, and a look of such general tidiness (after he had left off work in the evening), that he might have been taken for a life-guardsman had it not been for a slight slouch of the shoulders, and a very unmilitary gait, gave me the following account:--

“I’m a London man,” he said, “and though I’m not yet 25, I’ve kept myself for the last five years. I’ve worked at rubbish-carting and general ground-work (digging for pipe-laying, &c.,) as we nearly all do, but mainly at rubbish-carting, and I’m at that now. My friends are in the same line, so I helped them: I was big enough, and was brought up that way. O, yes, I can read and write, but I haven’t time, or very seldom, to read anything but a newspaper now and again. I’m a carman now, and have a very good master. I’ve served him, more or less, for three years. I have had 25_s._ a week, and I have had 29_s._, but that included over-work. Two hours extra work a day makes an extra day in the week, you see, sir. O, yes, I might have saved money, and I’m trying to save 25_l._ now to see if I can’t raise a horse and cart, and begin for myself in a small way, general jobbing. I’ve been used to cart mould, and gravel, and turf for gentlemen’s gardens, or when gardens have been laid out in new buildings, as well as rubbish, for the same master. Last year I set to work in hard earnest in the same way, and this is where it is that always stops me. Mr. ---- [his employer] is very busy now, and things look pretty well about here [Camden-town], but I don’t know how it is in other parts. It was the same last year, but trade fell off in the winter, and I was three months out of work. O, that’s a common case, especial with young men, for of course the old hands has the preference. That’s where it is, you see, sir; it’s a uncertain trade. It’s always that new shoes is wanted, but it ain’t always new houses. My money all went, and then all my things went to the pawn, and when I got fairly to work again, I had a shirt and a shilling left, and owed some little matters. I’d saved well on to 50_s._, and could have gone on saving, but for being thrown out. Then, when you get into regular wages again, there’s your uncle to meet, and there’s always something wanted--a pair of half-boots, or a new shirt, or a new tool, or something; so one loses heart about it, and I can’t abear not to appear respectable.

“I pay 2_s._ a week for my lodging, but it’s only for half a bed. The house is let out that way to single men like me, so each bed brings in 4_s._ a week. There’s two beds in the room where I sleep; I don’t know how many in all. Why, yes, it’s a respectable sort of a place, but I don’t much like it. There’s plenty such places; some’s decent and some’s not. Oh, certainly, a place of your own’s best, if it’s ever so humble, but it wouldn’t suit a man like me. I may work one week at Paddington, and the next at Bow, and if I had a furnished room at Paddington, what good would it be if I went to work at Bow? Only the bother and expense of removing my sticks again and again. O, people that find lodgings for such as me, know that well enough, and makes a prey of us, of course.

“I take my meals at a public-house or a coffee-shop. O yes, I live well enough. I have meat every day to dinner; a man like me must keep up his strength, and you can’t do that without good meat. It’s all nonsense about vegetables and all that, as if men’s stomachs were like cows’. I have bread and butter and tea or coffee for breakfast and tea, sometimes a few cresses with it just to sweeten the blood, which is the proper use of vegetables. A pint of beer or so for supper, but I don’t care about supper, though now and then I take a bit of bread and cheese with a nice fresh onion to it. Well, I’m sure I can’t say what I lay out in my living in a week; sometimes more and sometimes less. I keep no account; I pay my way as I go on. Some weeks when I get my Saturday night’s wage, I have from 2_s._ 6_d._ to 6_s._ 6_d._ left from last Saturday night’s money, but that’s only when I’ve had nothing to lay out beyond common. Now, last week I was 4_s._ 9_d._ to the good, and this week I shall be about the ditto; but then I want a waistcoat and a silk handkerchief for my neck for Sunday wear; so I must draw on my Saturday night. There’s a gentleman takes care of my money for me, and I carry him what I have over in a week, and he takes care of it for me. I did a good deal of work about his houses--he has a block of them--and his own place, and I’ve gardened for him; and from what I’ve heard, my money’s safer with him than with a Savings’ Bank. When I want to draw he likes to be satisfied what it’s for, and he’s lent me as much as 33_s._ in different sums, when I was hard up. He’s what I call a real gentleman. He says if I ever go to him tipsy to draw, and says it quite solemn like, he’ll take me by the scruff of the neck and kick me out; though [laughing] he can’t be much above five foot, and has gray hairs, and seems a feeble sort of a man, I mean of a gentleman. He enters all I pay in a book. Here it is, sir, for this year, if you’d like to see it. I wasn’t able to put anything by for a goodish bit. I lost my book once, but I knew how much, and so did Mr. ----, and he put it down in a lump.

£ s. d. July 18 In hand 1 3 0 25 Received 0 3 6 Aug. 9 „ 0 3 6 23 „ 0 5 0 Sept. 13 „ 0 9 6 20 „ 0 4 0 27 „ 0 4 0 ------------- £2 12 6

“If I can’t save a little to start myself on when I’m a single man, I can’t ever after, I fancy; so I’m a trying.

“No, my expenses, over and above my living and lodging and washing, and all that, ain’t heavy. Yes, I’m very fond of a good play, very. Some galleries is 6_d._, and some 3_d._; but then there’s refreshment and that, so it costs 1_s._ a time. Perhaps I go once a week, but only in autumn and winter, when nights get long, and we leave work at half-past five. The last time I was at the play was at the Marylebone, but there was some opera pieces that don’t suit me; such stuff and nonsense. I like something very lively, or else a deep tragedy. Sadler’s Wells is the place, sir. I mean to go there to-morrow night. Yes, I’m very fond of the pantomimes. Concerts I’ve been at, but don’t care for them. They’re as dear at 2_d._ as an egg a penny, and an egg’s only a bite.

“Well, I’ve gone to church sometimes, but a carman hasn’t time, for he has his horses to attend to on Sunday mornings, and that uses up his morning. No, I never go now. Work must be done. It ain’t my fault. I’m sure, if I could have my wish, I’d never do anything on a Sunday.

“Yes, there’s far too many as undersells us in work. I know that, but I don’t like to think about them or to talk about them.” [He seemed desirous to ignore the very existence of the scurf rubbish-carters.] “They’re Irish many of them. They’re often quarrelsome and blood-thirsty, but I know many decent men among the Irishmen in our gangs. There’s good and bad among them, as there is among the English. There’s very few of the Irish that are carmen; they haven’t been much used to horses.

“I have done a little as a nightman when I worked for Mr. ----. He was a parish contractor, and undertook such jobs, and liked to put strong men on to them. I didn’t like it. I can’t think it’s a healthy trade. I can’t say, but I heard it represented, that in this particular calling there was a great deal of under-contracting going on when the railway undertakings generally received a severe check, and when a great number of hands were thrown out of employment, and sought employment in rubbish-carting generally, and apart from railway-work. These hands suffered greatly for a long time. The tommy-shops and the middle-man system were enough to swallow the largest amount of railway wages, so that very few had saved money, and they were willing to work for very low wages. A good many of these people went to endeavour to find work at the large new docks being erected at Great Grimsby, near Boston, in Lincolnshire. Some of the more prudent were able to raise the means of emigrating, and from one cause or other the pressure of this surplus labour among rubbish-carters and excavators, as regards the metropolis, became relieved.”

OF CASUAL LABOUR IN GENERAL, AND THAT OF THE RUBBISH-CARTERS IN PARTICULAR.

The subject of casual labour is one of such vast importance in connection with the welfare of a nation and its people, and one of which the causes as well as consequences seem to be so utterly ignored by economical writers and unheeded by the public, that I purpose here saying a few words upon the matter in general, with the view of enabling the reader the better to understand the difficulties that almost all unskilled and many skilled labourers have to contend with in this country.

By casual labour I mean such labour as can obtain only occasional as contradistinguished from constant employment. In this definition I include all classes of workers, literate and illiterate, skilled and unskilled, whose professions, trades, or callings expose them to be employed temporarily rather than continuously, and whose incomes are in a consequent degree fluctuating, casual, and uncertain.

In no country in the world is there such an extent, and at the same time such a diversity, of casual labour as in Great Britain. This is attributable to many causes--commercial and agricultural, natural and artificial, controllable and uncontrollable.

I will first show what are the causes of casual labour, and then point out its effects.

The causes of casual labour may be grouped under two heads:--

I. The Brisk and Slack Seasons, and Fit Times, or periodical increase and decrease of work in certain occupations.

II. The Surplus Hands appertaining to the different trades.

First, as to the briskness or slackness of employment in different occupations. This depends in different trades on different causes, among which may be enumerated--

A. The weather.

B. The seasons of the year.

C. The fashion of the day.

D. Commerce and accidents.

I shall deal with each of these causes seriatim.

A. The labour of thousands is influenced by the weather; it is suspended or prevented in many instances by stormy or rainy weather; and in some few instances it is promoted by such a state of things.

Among those whose labour cannot be executed on wet days, or executed but imperfectly, and who are consequently deprived of their ordinary means of living on such days, are--paviours, pipe-layers, bricklayers, painters of the exteriors of houses, slaters, fishermen, watermen (plying with their boats for hire), the crews of the river steamers, a large body of agricultural labourers (such as hedgers, ditchers, mowers, reapers, ploughmen, thatchers, and gardeners), costermongers and all classes of street-sellers (to a great degree), street-performers, and showmen.

With regard to the degree in which agricultural (or indeed in this instance woodland) labour may be influenced by the weather, I may state that a few years back there had been a fall of oaks on an estate belonging to Col. Cradock, near Greta-bridge, and the poor people, old men and women, in the neighbourhood, were selected to strip off the bark for the tanners, under the direction of a person appointed by the proprietor: for this work they were paid by the basket-load. The trees lay in an open and exposed situation, and the rain was so incessant that the “barkers” could scarcely do any work for the whole of the first week, but kept waiting under the nearest shelter in the hopes that it would “clear up.” In the first week of this employment nearly one-third of the poor persons, who had commenced their work with eagerness, had to apply for some temporary parochial relief. A rather curious instance this, of a parish suffering from the casualty of a very humble labour, and actually from the attempt of the poor to earn money, and do work prepared for them.

On the other hand, some few classes may be said to be benefited by the rain which is impoverishing others: these are cabmen (who are the busiest on showery days), scavagers, umbrella-makers, clog and patten-makers. I was told by the omnibus people that their vehicles filled better in hot than in wet weather.

But the labour of thousands is influenced also by the wind; an easterly wind prevailing for a few days will throw out of employment 20,000 dock labourers and others who are dependent on the shipping for their employment; such as lumpers, corn-porters, timber-porters, ship-builders, sail-makers, lightermen, watermen, and, indeed, almost all those who are known as ’long-shoremen. The same state of things prevails at Hull, Bristol, Liverpool, and all our large ports.

Frost, again, is equally inimical to some labourers’ interests; the frozen-out market-gardeners are familiar to almost every one, and indeed all those who are engaged upon the land may be said to be deprived of work by severely cold weather.

In the weather alone, then, we find a means of starving thousands of our people. Rain, wind, and frost are many a labourer’s natural enemies, and to those who are fully aware of the influence of “the elements” upon the living and comforts of hundreds of their fellow-creatures, the changes of weather are frequently watched with a terrible interest. I am convinced that, altogether, a wet day deprives not less than 100,000, and probably nearer 200,000 people, including builders, bricklayers, and agricultural labourers, of their ordinary means of subsistence, and drives the same number to the public-houses and beer-shops (on this part of the subject I have collected some curious facts); thus not only decreasing their income, but positively increasing their expenditure, and that, perhaps, in the worst of ways.

Nor can there be fewer dependent on the winds for their bread. If we think of the vast number employed either directly or indirectly at the various ports of this country, and then remember that at each of these places the prevalence of a particular wind must prevent the ordinary arrival of shipping, and so require the employment of fewer hands; we shall have some idea of the enormous multitude of men in this country who can be starved by “a nipping and an eager air.” If in London alone there are 20,000 people deprived of food by the prevalence of an easterly wind (and I had the calculation from one of the principal officers of the St. Katherine Dock Company), surely it will not be too much to say that throughout the country there are not less than 50,000 people whose living is thus precariously dependent.

Altogether I am inclined to believe, that we shall not be over the truth if we assert there are between 100,000 and 200,000 individuals and their families, or half a million of people, dependent on the elements for their support in this country.

* * * * *

But this calculation refers to those classes only who are deprived of a certain number of days’ work by an alteration of the weather, a cause that is essentially ephemeral in its character. The other series of natural events influencing the demand for labour in this country are of a more continuous nature--the stimulus and the depression enduring for weeks rather than days. I allude to the second of the four circumstances above-mentioned as inducing briskness or slackness of employment in different occupations, viz.:--

B. The seasons.

These are the seasons of the year, and not the arbitrary seasons of fashion, of which I shall speak next.

The following classes are among those exposed to the uncertainty of employment, and consequently of income, from the above cause, since it is only in particular seasons that particular works, such as buildings, will be undertaken, or that open-air pleasure excursions will be attempted: carpenters, builders, brickmakers, painters, plasterers, paper-hangers, rubbish-carters, sweeps, and riggers and lumpers, the latter depending mainly on the arrival of the timber ships to the Thames (and this, owing to the ice in the Baltic Sea and in the river St. Lawrence, &c., takes place only at certain seasons of the year), coal-whippers and coal-porters (the coal trade being much brisker in winter), market-porters, and those employed in summer in steam-boat, railway, van, and barge excursions.

Then there are the casualties attending agricultural labour, for, although the operations of nature are regular “even as the seed time follows the harvest,” there is, almost invariably, a smaller employment of labour after the completion of the haymaking, the sheep-shearing, and the grain-reaping labours.

For the hay and corn harvests it is well known that there is a periodical immigration of Irishmen and women, who clamour for the casual employment; others, again, leave the towns for the same purpose; the same result takes place also in the fruit and pea-picking season for the London green-markets; while in the winter such people return some to their own country, and some to form a large proportion of the casual class in the metropolis. A tall Irishman of about 34 or 35 (whom I had to see when treating of the religion of the street Irish) leaves his accustomed crossing-sweeping at all or most of the seasons I have mentioned, and returns to it for the winter at the end of October; while his wife and children are then so many units to add to the casualties of the street sale of apples, nuts, and onions, by overstocking the open-air markets.

The autumnal season of hop-picking is the grand rendezvous for the vagrancy of England and Ireland, the stream of London vagrancy flowing freely into Kent at that period, and afterwards flowing back with increased volume. Men, women, and children are attracted to the hop harvest. The season is over in less than a month, and then the casual labourers engaged in it (and they are nearly all casual labourers) must divert their industry, or their endeavours for a living, into other channels, swelling the amount of casualty in unskilled work or street-trade.

Numerically to estimate the influence of the seasons on the labour-market of this country is almost an overwhelming task. Let us try, however: there are in round numbers one million agricultural labourers in this country; saying that in the summer four labourers are employed for every three in the winter, there would be 250,000 people and their families, or say 1,000,000 of individuals, deprived of their ordinary subsistence in the winter time; this, of course, does not include those who come from Ireland to assist at the harvest-getting--how many these may be I have no means of ascertaining. Added to these there are the natural vagabonds, whom I have before estimated at another hundred thousand (see p. 408, vol. i.), and who generally help at the harvest work or the fruit or hop-picking.

Then there are the carpenters, who are 163,000 in number; the builders, 9200; the brickmakers, 18,000; the painters, 48,200; the coal-whippers, 9200; the coal-miners, 110,000; making altogether 350,000 people, and estimating that for every four hands employed in the brisk season, there are only three required in the slack, we have 80,000 more families, or 300,000 people, deprived of their living by the casualty of labour; so that if we assert that there are, at the least, including agricultural labourers, 1,250,000 people thus deprived of their usual means of living, we shall not be very wide of the truth.

The next cause of the briskness or slackness of different employments is--

C. Fashion.

The London fashionable season is also the parliamentary season, and is the “briskest” from about the end of February to the middle of July.

The workmen most affected by the aristocratic, popular, or general fashions, are--

Tailors, ladies’ habit-makers, boot and shoe-makers, hatters, glovers, milliners, dress-makers, mantua-makers, drawn and straw bonnet-makers, artificial flower-makers, plumassiers, stay-makers, silk and velvet weavers, saddlers, harness-makers, coach-builders, cabmen, job-coachmen, farriers, livery stable keepers, poulterers, pastry-cooks, confectioners, &c., &c.

The above-mentioned classes may be taken, according to the Occupation Abstract of the last Census, at between 500,000 and 600,000; and, assuming the same ratio as to the difference of employment between the brisk and the slack seasons of the trades, or, in other words, that 25 per cent. less hands are required at the slack than at the brisk time of these trades, we have another 150,000 people, who, with their families, may be estimated altogether at say 500,000, who are thrown out of work at a certain season, and have to starve on as best they can for at least three months in the year.

The last-mentioned of the causes inducing briskness or slackness of employment are--

D. Commerce and Accidents.

Commerce has its periodical fits and starts. The publishers, for instance, have their season, generally from October to March, as people read more in winter than in summer; and this arrangement immediately effects the printers and bookbinders; there is no change, however, as regards the newspapers and periodicals. Again, the early importation to this country of the new foreign fruits gives activity to the dock and wharf labourers and porters and carmen. Thus the arrival here, generally in autumn, of the nut, chestnut, and grape (raisin) produce of Spain; of the almond crops in Portugal, Spain, and Barbary; the date harvest in Morocco, and different parts of Africa; the orange gathering in Madeira, and in St. Michael’s, Terceira, and other islands of the Azores; the fig harvest from the Levant; the plum harvest of the south of France; the currant picking of Zante, Ithaca, and other Ionian Islands;--all these events give an activity, as new fruit is always most saleable, to the traders in these southern productions; and more shopmen, shop-porters, wharf labourers, and assistant lightermen are required--casually required--for the time.

I was told by a grocer, with a country connection, and in a large way of business, that for three weeks or a month before Christmas he required the aid of four fresh hands, a shopman, an errand-boy, and two porters (one skilled in packing), for whom he had nothing to do after Christmas. If in the wide sweep of London trade there be 1000 persons, including the market salesmen, the retail butchers, the carriers, &c., so circumstanced, then 4000 men are casually employed, and for a very brief time.

The brief increase of the carrying business generally about Christmas, by road, water, or railway, is sufficiently indicated by the foregoing account.

The employment, again, in the cotton and woollen manufacturing districts may be said to depend for its briskness on commerce rather than on the seasons.

Accidents, or extraordinary social events, promote casual labour and then depress it. Often they depress without having promoted it.

During the display of the Great Exhibition, there were some thousands employed in the different capacities of police, packing, cleaning, porterage, watching, interpreting, door-keeping and money-taking, cab-regulating, &c.; and after the close of the Exhibition how many were retained? Thus the Great Exhibition fostered casual, or uncertain labour. Foreign revolutions, moreover, affect the trade of England: speculators become timid and will not embark in trade or in any proposed undertaking; the foreign import and export trades are paralysed; and fewer clerks and fewer labourers are employed. Home political agitations, also, have the same effect; as was seen in London during the corn-law riots, about 35 years ago (when only eight members of the House of Commons supported a change in those laws); the Spafields riots in 1817; the affair in St. Peter’s-field, Manchester, in 1819; the disturbances and excitement during the trial of Queen Caroline, in 1820-1, and the loss of life on the occasion of her funeral in 1821; the agitation previously to the passing of the Reform Bill had a like effect; the meeting on Kennington Common on the 10th of April;--in all these periods, indeed, employment decreased. Labour is affected also by the death of a member of the royal family, and the hurried demand for general mourning, but in a very small degree to what was once the case. A West-End tailor employing a great number of hands did not receive a single order for mourning on the death of Queen Adelaide; while on the demise of the Princess Charlotte (in 1817) thousands of operative tailors, throughout the three kingdoms, worked day and night, and for double wages, on the general mourning. Gluts in the markets, an increase of heavy bankruptcies and “panics,” such as were experienced in the money market in 1825-6, and again in 1846, with the failure of banks and merchants, likewise have the effect of augmenting the mass of casual labour; for capitalists and employers, under such circumstances, expend as little as possible in wages or employment until the storm blows over. Bad harvests have a similar depressing effect.

There are also the consequences of changes of taste. The abandonment of the fashions of gentlemen’s wearing swords, as well as embroidered garments, flowing periwigs, large shoe-buckles, all reduced able artizans to poverty by depriving them of work. So it was, when, to carry on the war with France, Mr. Pitt introduced a tax on hair powder. Hundreds of hair-dressers were thrown out of employment, many persons abandoning the fashion of wearing powder rather than pay the tax. There are now city gentlemen, who can remember that when clerks, they had sometimes to wait two or three hours for “their turn” at a barber’s shop on a Sunday morning; for they could not go abroad until their hair was dressed and powdered, and their queues trimmed to the due standard of fashion. So it has been, moreover, in modern times in the substitution of silk for metal buttons, silk hats for stuff, and in the supersedence of one material of dress by another.

These several causes, then, which could only exist in a community of great wealth and great poverty have rendered, and are continually rendering, the labour market uncertain and over-stocked; to what extent they do and have done this, it is, of course, almost impossible to say precisely; but, even with the strongest disposition to avoid exaggeration, we may assert that there are in this country no less than 125,000 families, or 500,000 people, who depend on the weather for their food; 300,000 families, or 1,250,000 people, who can obtain employment only at particular seasons; 150,000 more families, or 500,000 people, whose trade depends upon the fashionable rather than the natural seasons, are thrown out of work at the cessation of the brisk time of their business; and, perhaps, another 150,000 of families, or 500,000 people, dependent on the periodical increase and decrease of commerce, and certain social and political accidents which tend to cause a greater or less demand for labour. Altogether we may assert, with safety, that there are at the least 725,000 families, or three millions of men, women, and children, whose means of living, far from being certain and constant, are of a precarious kind, depending either upon the rain, the wind, the sunshine, the caprice of fashion, or the ebbings and flowings of commerce.

* * * * *

But there is a still more potent cause at work to increase the amount of casual labour in this country. Thus far we have proceeded on the assumption that at the brisk season of each trade there is full employment for all; but this is far from being the case in the great majority, if not the whole, of the instances above cited. In almost all occupations there is in this country a superfluity of labourers, and this alone would tend to render the employment of a vast number of the hands of a casual rather than a regular character. In the generality of trades the calculation is that one-third of the hands are fully employed, one-third partially, and one-third unemployed throughout the year. This, of course, would be the case if there were twice too many work-people; for suppose the number of work-people in a given trade to be 6000, and the work sufficient to employ (fully) only half the quantity, then, of course, 2000 might be occupied their whole time, 2000 more might have work sufficient to occupy them half their time, and the remaining 2000 have no work at all; or the whole 4000 might, on the average, obtain three months’ employment out of the twelve; and this is frequently the case. Hence we see that a surplusage of hands in a trade tends to change the employment of the great majority from a state of constancy and regularity into one of casualty and precariousness.

Consequently it becomes of the highest importance that we should endeavour to ascertain what are the circumstances inducing a surplusage of hands in the several trades of the present day. A surplusage of hands in a trade may proceed from three different causes, viz.:--

1. The alteration of the hours, rate, or mode of working, or else the term of hiring.

2. The increase of the hands themselves.

3. The decrease of the work.

Each of these causes is essentially distinct; in the first case there is neither an increase in the number of hands nor a decrease in the quantity of work, and yet a surplusage of labourers is the consequence, for it is self-evident that if there be work enough in a given trade to occupy 6000 men all the year round, labouring twelve hours per day for six days in the week, the same quantity of work will afford occupation to only 4000 men, or one-third less, labouring between fifteen and sixteen hours per diem for seven days in the week. The same result would, of course, take place, if the workman were made to labour one-third more quickly, and so to get through one-third more work in the same time (either by increasing their interest in their work, by the invention of a new tool, by extra supervision, or by the subdivision of labour, &c., &c.), the same result would, of course, ensue as if they laboured one-third longer hours, viz., one-third of the hands must be thrown out of employment. So, again, by altering the mode or form of work, as by producing on the large scale, instead of the small, a smaller number of labourers are required to execute the same amount of work; and thus (if the market for such work be necessarily limited) a surplusage of labourers is the result. Hence we see that the alteration of the hours, rate, or mode of working may tend as positively to overstock a country with labourers as if the labourers themselves had unduly increased.

But this, of course, is on the assumption that both the quantity of work and the number of hands remain the same. The next of the three causes, above mentioned as inducing a surplusage of hands, is that which arises from a positive increase in the number of labourers, while the quantity of work remains the same or increases at a less rate than the labourers; and the third cause is, where the surplusage of labourers arises not from any alteration in the number of hands, but from a positive decrease in the quantity of work.

These are distinctions necessary to be borne clearly in mind for the proper understanding of this branch of the subject.

In the first case both the number of hands and the quantity of work remain the same, but the term, rate, or mode of working is changed.

In the second, hours, rate, or mode of working remain the same, as well as the quantity of work, but the number of hands is increased.

And in the third case, neither the number of hands nor the hours, rate, or mode of working is supposed to have been altered, but the work only to have decreased.

The surplusage of hands will, of course, be the same in each of these cases.

I will begin with the first, viz., that which induces a surplusage of labourers in a trade by enabling fewer hands to get through the ordinary amount of work. This is what is called the “economy of labour.”

There are, of course, only three modes of economizing labour, or causing the same quantity of work to be done by a smaller number of hands.

1st. By causing the men to work longer.

2nd. By causing the men to work quicker, and so get through more work in the same time.

3rd. By altering the mode of work, or hiring, as in the “large system of production,” where fewer hands are required; or the custom of temporary hirings, where the men are retained only so long as their services are needed, and discharged immediately afterwards.

First, of that mode of economizing labour which depends on an increase of either the ordinary hours or days for work. This is what is usually termed over-work and Sunday-work, both of which are largely creative of surplus hands. The hours of labour in mechanical callings are usually twelve, two of them devoted to meals, or 72 hours (less by the permitted intervals) in a week. In the course of my inquiries for the Chronicle, I met with slop cabinet-makers, tailors, and milliners who worked sixteen hours and more daily, their toil being only interrupted by the necessity of going out, if small masters, to purchase materials, and offer the goods for sale; or, if journeymen in the slop trade, to obtain more work and carry what was completed to the master’s shop. They worked on Sundays also; one tailor told me that the coat he worked at on the previous Sunday was for the Rev. Mr. ----, who “little thought it,” and these slop-workers rarely give above a few minutes to a meal. Thus they toil 40 hours beyond the hours usual in an honourable trade (112 hours instead of 72), in the course of a week, or between three and four days of the regular hours of work of the six working days. In other words, two such men will in less than a week accomplish work which should occupy three men a full week; or 1000 men will execute labour fairly calculated to employ 1500 at the least. A paucity of employment is thus caused among the general body, by this system of over-labour decreasing the share of work accruing to the several operatives, and so adding to surplus hands.

Of over-work, as regards excessive labour, both in the general and fancy cabinet trade, I heard the following accounts, which different operatives concurred in giving; while some represented the labour as of longer duration by at least an hour, and some by two hours, a day, than I have stated.

The labour of the men who depend entirely on “the slaughter-houses” for the purchase of their articles is usually seven days a week the year through. That is, seven days--for Sunday work is all but universal--each of 13 hours, or 91 hours in all; while the established hours of labour in the “honourable trade” are six days of the week, each of 10 hours, or 60 hours in all. Thus 50 per cent. is added to the extent of the production of low-priced cabinet-work, merely from “over-hours;” but in some cases I heard of 15 hours for seven days in the week, or 105 hours in all.

Concerning the hours of labour in this trade, I had the following minute particulars from a garret-master who was a chair-maker:--

“I work from six every morning to nine at night; some work till ten. My breakfast at eight stops me for ten minutes. I can breakfast in less time, but it’s a rest; my dinner takes me say twenty minutes at the outside; and my tea, eight minutes. All the rest of the time I’m slaving at my bench. How many minutes’ rest is that, sir? Thirty-eight; well, say three-quarters of an hour, and that allows a few sucks at a pipe when I rest; but I can smoke and work too. I have only one room to work and eat in, or I should lose more time. Altogether I labour 14-1/4 hours every day, and I must work on Sundays--at least 40 Sundays in the year. One may as well work as sit fretting. But on Sundays I only work till it’s dusk, or till five or six in summer. When it’s dusk I take a walk. I’m not well-dressed enough for a Sunday walk when it’s light, and I can’t wear my apron on that day very well to hide patches. But there’s eight hours that I reckon I take up every week one with another, in dancing about to the slaughterers. I’m satisfied that I work very nearly 100 hours a week the year through; deducting the time taken up by the slaughterers, and buying stuff--say eight hours a week--it gives more than 90 hours a week for my work, and there’s hundreds labour as hard as I do, just for a crust.”

The East-end turners generally, I was informed, when inquiring into the state of that trade, labour at the lathe from six o’clock in the morning till eleven and twelve at night, being 18 hours’ work per day, or 108 hours per week. They allow themselves two hours for their meals. It takes them, upon an average, two hours more every day fetching and carrying their work home. Some of the East-end men work on Sundays, and not a few either, said my informant. “Sometimes I have worked hard,” said one man, “from six one morning till four the next, and scarcely had any time to take my meals in the bargain. I have been almost suffocated with the dust flying down my throat after working so many hours upon such heavy work too, and sweating so much. It makes a man drink where he would not.”

This system of over-work exists in the “slop” part of almost every business--indeed, it is the principal means by which the cheap trade is maintained. Let me cite from my letters in the Chronicle some more of my experience on this subject. As regards the London mantua-makers, I said:--“The workwomen for good shops that give fair, or tolerably fair wages, and expect good work, can make six average-sized mantles in a week, working from ten to twelve hours a day; but the slop-workers, by toiling from thirteen to sixteen hours a day, will make nine such sized mantles in a week. In a season of twelve weeks 1000 workers for the slop-houses and warehouses would at this rate make 108,000 mantles, or 36,000 more than workers for the fair trade. Or, to put it in another light, these slop-women, by being compelled, in order to live, to work such over-hours as inflict lasting injury on the health, supplant, by their over-work and over-hours, the labour of 500 hands, working the regular hours.”

The following are the words of a chamber-master, working for the cheap shoe trade:--

“From people being obliged to work twice the hours they once did work, or that in reason they ought to work, a glut of hands is the consequence, and the masters are led to make reductions in the wages. They take advantage of our poverty and lower the wages, so as to undersell each other, and command business. My daughters have to work fifteen hours a day that we may make a bare living. They seem to have no spirit and no animation in them; in fact, such very hard work takes the youth out of them. They have no time to enjoy their youth, and, with all their work, they can’t present the respectable appearance they ought.” “I” (interposed my informant’s wife) “often feel a faintness and oppression from my hard work, as if my blood did not circulate.”

The better class of artizans denounce the system of Sunday working as the most iniquitous of all the impositions. They object to it, not only on moral and religious grounds, but economically also. “Every 600 men employed on the Sabbath,” say they, “deprive 100 individuals of a week’s work. Every six men who labour seven days in the week must necessarily throw one other man out of employ for a whole week. The seventh man is thus deprived of his fair share of work by the overtoiling of the other six.” This Sunday working is a necessary consequence of the cheap slop-trade. The workmen cannot keep their families by their six days’ labour, and therefore they not only, under that system, get less wages and do more work, but by their extra labour throw so many more hands out of employment.

Here then, in the over-work of many of the trade, we find a vast cause of surplus hands, and, consequently, of casual labour; and that the work in these trades has not proportionately increased is proven by the fact of the existence of a superfluity of workmen.

Let us now turn our attention to the second of the causes above cited, viz., the causing of men to work quicker, and so to accomplish more in the same time. There are several means of attaining this end; it may be brought about either (a) by making the workman’s gains depend directly on the quantity of work executed by him, as by the substitution of piece-work for day-work; (b) by the omission of certain details or parts necessary for the perfection of the work; (c) by decreasing the workman’s pay, and so increasing the necessity for him to execute a greater quantity of work in order to obtain the same income; (d) increasing the supervision, and encouraging a spirit of emulation among the workpeople; (e) by dividing the labour into a number of simple and minute processes, and so increasing the expertness of the labourers; (f) by the invention of some new tool or machine for expediting the operations of the workman.

I shall give a brief illustration of each of these causes seriatim, showing how they tend to produce a surplusage of hands in the trades to which they are severally applied. And first, as to making the workman’s gains depend directly on the quantity of work executed by him.

Of course there are but two direct modes of paying for labour--either by the day or by the piece. Over-work by day-work is effected by means of what is called the “strapping system” (as described in the Morning Chronicle in my letter upon the carpenters and joiners), where a whole shop are set to race over their work in silence one with another, each striving to outdo the rest, from the knowledge that anything short of extraordinary exertion will be sure to be punished with dismissal. Over-work by piece-work, on the other hand, is almost a necessary consequence of that mode of payment--for where men are paid by the quantity they do, of course it becomes the interest of a workman to do more than he otherwise would.

“Almost all who work by the day, or for a fixed salary, that is to say, those who labour for the gain of others, not for their own, have,” it has been well remarked, “no interest in doing more than the smallest quantity of work that will pass as a fulfilment of the mere terms of their engagement. Owing to the insufficient interest which day labourers have in the result of their labour, there is a natural tendency in such labour to be extremely inefficient--a tendency only to be overcome by vigilant superintendence on the part of the persons who are interested in the result. The ‘master’s eye’ is notoriously the only security to be relied on. But superintend them as you will, day labourers are so much inferior to those who work by the piece, that, as was before said, the latter system is practised in all industrial occupations where the work admits of being put out in definite portions, without involving the necessity of too troublesome a surveillance to guard against inferiority (or scamping) in the execution.” But if the labourer at piece-work is made to produce a greater quantity than at day-work, and this solely by connecting his own interest with that of his employer, how much more largely must the productiveness of workmen be increased when labouring wholly on their own account! Accordingly it has been invariably found that whenever the operative unites in himself the double function of capitalist and labourer, as the “garret-master” in the cabinet trade, and the “chamber-master” in the shoe trade, making up his own materials or working on his own property, his productiveness, single-handed, is considerably greater than can be attained even under the large system of production, where all the arts and appliances of which extensive capital can avail itself are brought into operation.

As regards the increased production by omitting certain details necessary for the due perfection of the work, it may be said that “scamping” adds at least 200 per cent. to the productions of the cabinet-maker’s trade. I ascertained, in the course of my previous inquiries, several cases of this over-work from scamping, and adduce two. A very quick hand, a little master, working, as he called it, “at a slaughtering pace,” for a warehouse, made 60 plain writing-desks in a week of 90 hours; while a first-rate workman, also a quick hand, made 18 in a week of 70 hours. The scamping hand said he must work at the rate he did to make 14_s._ a week from a slaughter-house; and so used to such style of work had he become, that, though a few years back he did West-end work in the best style, he could not now make eighteen desks in a week, if compelled to finish them in the style of excellence displayed in the work of the journeyman employed for the honourable trade. Perhaps, he added, he couldn’t make them in that style at all. The frequent use of rosewood veneers in the fancy cabinet, and their occasional use in the general cabinet trade gives, I was told, great facilities for scamping. If in his haste the scamping hand injure the veneer, or if it have been originally faulty, he takes a mixture of gum shellac and “colour” (colour being a composition of Venetian red and lamp black), which he has ready by him, rubs it over the damaged part, smooths it with a slightly-heated iron, and so blends it with the colour of the rosewood that the warehouseman does not detect the flaw. In the general, as contradistinguished from the fancy, cabinet trade I found the same ratio of “scamping.” A good workman in the better-paid trade made a four-foot mahogany chest of drawers in five days, working the regular hours, and receiving, at piece-work price, 35_s._ A scamping hand made five of the same size in a week, and had time to carry them for sale to the warehouses, wait for their purchase or refusal, and buy material. But for the necessity of doing this the scamping hand could have made seven in the 91 hours of his week, though of course in a very inferior manner. “They would hold together for a time,” I was assured, “and that was all; but the slaughterer cared only to have them viewly and cheap.” These two cases exceed the average, and I have cited them to show what can be done under the scamping system.

We now come to the increased rate of working induced by a reduction of the ordinary rate of remuneration of the workman. Not only is it true that over-work makes under-pay, but the converse of the proposition is equally true, that under-pay makes over-work--that is to say, it is true of those trades where the system of piece-work or small mastership admits of the operative doing the utmost amount of work that he is able to accomplish; for the workman in such cases seldom or never thinks of reducing his expenditure to his income, but rather of increasing his labour, so as still to bring his income, by extra production, up to his expenditure. Hence we find that, as the wages of a trade descend, so do the labourers extend their hours of work to the utmost possible limits--they not only toil earlier and later than before, but the Sunday becomes a work-day like the rest (amongst the “sweaters” of the tailoring trade Sunday labour, as I have shown, is almost universal); and when the hours of work are carried to the extreme of human industry, then more is sought to be done in a given space of time, either by the employment of the members of their own family, or apprentices, upon the inferior portion of the work, or else by “scamping it.” “My employer,” I was told by a journeyman tailor working for the Messrs. Nicoll, “reduces my wages one-third, and the consequence is, I put in two stitches where I used to give three.” “I must work from six to eight, and later,” said a pembroke-table-maker to me, “to get 18_s._ now for my labour, where I used to get 54_s._ a week--that’s just a third. I could in the old times give my children good schooling and good meals. Now children have to be put to work very young. I have four sons working for me at present.” Not only, therefore, does any stimulus to extra production make over-work, and over-work make under-pay; but under-pay, by becoming an additional provocative to increased industry, again gives rise in its turn to over-work. Hence we arrive at a plain unerring law--over-work makes under-pay and under-pay makes over-work.

But the above means of increasing the rate of working refer solely to those cases where the extra labour is induced by making it the interest of the workman so to do. The other means of extra production is by stricter supervision of journeymen, or those paid by the day. The shops where this system is enforced are termed “strapping-shops,” as indicative of establishments where an undue quantity of work is expected from a journeyman in the course of the day. Such shops, though not directly making use of cheap labour (for the wages paid in them are generally of the higher rate), still, by exacting more work, may of course be said, in strictness, to encourage the system now becoming general, of less pay and inferior skill. These strapping establishments sometimes go by the name of “scamping shops,” on account of the time allowed for the manufacture of the different articles not being sufficient to admit of good workmanship.

Concerning this “strapping” system I received the following extraordinary account from a man after his heavy day’s labour. Never in all my experience had I seen so sad an instance of overwork. The poor fellow was so fatigued that he could hardly rest in his seat. As he spoke he sighed deeply and heavily, and appeared almost spirit-broken with excessive labour:--

“I work at what is called a strapping shop,” he said, “and have worked at nothing else for these many years past in London. I call ‘strapping’ doing as much work as a human being or a horse possibly can in a day, and that without any hanging upon the collar, but with the foreman’s eyes constantly fixed upon you, from six o’clock in the morning to six o’clock at night. The shop in which I work is for all the world like a prison; the silent system is as strictly carried out there as in a model gaol. If a man was to ask any common question of his neighbour, except it was connected with his trade, he would be discharged there and then. If a journeyman makes the least mistake, he is packed off just the same. A man working at such places is almost always in fear; for the most trifling things he’s thrown out of work in an instant. And then the quantity of work that one is forced to get through is positively awful; if he can’t do a plenty of it, he don’t stop long where I am. No one would think it was possible to get so much out of blood and bones. No slaves work like we do. At some of the strapping shops the foreman keeps continually walking about with his eyes on all the men at once. At others the foreman is perched high up, so that he can have the whole of the men under his eye together. I suppose since I knew the trade that a man does four times the work that he did formerly. I know a man that’s done four pairs of sashes in a day, and one is considered to be a good day’s labour. What’s worse than all, the men are every one striving one against the other. Each is trying to get through the work quicker than his neighbours. Four or five men are set the same job, so that they may be all pitted against one another, and then away they go every one striving his hardest for fear that the others should get finished first. They are all bearing along from the first thing in the morning to the last at night, as hard as they can go, and when the time comes to knock off they are ready to drop. I was hours after I got home last night before I could get a wink of sleep; the soles of my feet were on fire, and my arms ached to that degree that I could hardly lift my hand to my head. Often, too, when we get up of a morning, we are more tired than when we went to bed, for we can’t sleep many a night; but we mustn’t let our employers know it, or else they’d be certain we couldn’t do enough for them, and we’d get the sack. So, tired as we may be, we are obliged to look lively, somehow or other, at the shop of a morning. If we’re not beside our bench the very moment the bell’s done ringing, our time’s docked--they wont give us a single minute out of the hour. If I was working for a fair master, I should do nearly one-third, and sometimes a half, less work than I am now forced to get through, and, even to manage that much, I shouldn’t be idle a second of my time. It’s quite a mystery to me how they do contrive to get so much work out of the men. But they are very clever people. They know how to have the most out of a man, better than any one in the world. They are all picked men in the shop--regular ‘strappers,’ and no mistake. The most of them are five foot ten, and fine broad-shouldered, strong-backed fellows too--if they weren’t they wouldn’t have them. Bless you, they make no words with the men, they sack them if they’re not strong enough to do all they want; and they can pretty soon tell, the very first shaving a man strikes in the shop, what a chap is made of. Some men are done up at such work--quite old men and gray with spectacles on, by the time they are forty. I have seen fine strong men, of 36, come in there and be bent double in two or three years. They are most all countrymen at the strapping shops. If they see a great strapping fellow, who they think has got some stuff about him that will come out, they will give him a job directly. We are used for all the world like cab or omnibus horses. Directly they’ve had all the work out of us, we are turned off, and I am sure, after my day’s work is over, my feelings must be very much the same as one of the London cab horses. As for Sunday, it is literally a day of rest with us, for the greater part of us lay a-bed all day, and even that will hardly take the aches and pains out of our bones and muscles. When I’m done and flung by, of course I must starve.”

The next means of inducing a quicker rate of working, and so economizing the number of labourers, is by the division and subdivision of labour. In perhaps all the skilled work of London, of the better sort, this is more or less the case; it is the case in a much smaller degree in the country.

The nice subdivision makes the operatives perfect adepts in their respective branches, working at them with a greater and a more assured facility than if their care had to be given to the whole work, and in this manner the work is completed in less time, and consequently by fewer hands.

In illustration of the extraordinary increased productiveness induced by the division of labour, I need only cite the well-known cases:--

“It is found,” says Mr. Mill, “that the productive power of labour is increased by carrying the separation further and further; by breaking down more and more every process of industry into parts, so that each labourer shall confine himself to an even smaller number of simple operations. And thus, in time, arise those remarkable cases of what is called the division of labour, with which all readers on subjects of this nature are familiar. Adam Smith’s illustration from pin-making, though so well-known, is so much to the point, that I will venture once more to transcribe it. ‘The business of making a pin is divided into eighteen distinct operations. One man draws out the wire, another straightens it, a third cuts it, a fourth points it, and a fifth grinds it at the top for receiving the head; to make the head requires two or three distinct operations; to put it on, is a peculiar business; to whiten the pins is another; it is even a trade by itself to put them into the paper. I have seen a small manufactory where ten men only were employed, and where some of them, consequently, performed two or three distinct operations. But though they were very poor, and therefore but indifferently accommodated with the necessary machinery, they could, when they exerted themselves, make among them about twelve pounds of pins in a day. There are in a pound upwards of 4000 pins of a middling size.

“‘Those ten persons, therefore, could make among them upwards of 48,000 pins in a day. Each person, therefore, making a tenth part of 48,000 pins, might be considered as making 4800 pins in a day. But if they had all wrought separately and independently, and without any of them having been educated to this peculiar business, they certainly could not each of them have made 20, perhaps not one pin in a day.’”

M. Say furnishes a still stronger example of the effects of division of labour, from a not very important branch of industry certainly, the manufacture of playing cards. “It is said by those engaged in the business, that each card, that is, a piece of pasteboard of the size of the hand, before being ready for sale, does not undergo fewer than 70 operations, every one of which might be the occupation of a distinct class of workmen. And if there are not 70 classes of work-people in each card manufactory, it is because the division of labour is not carried so far as it might be; because the same workman is charged with two, three, or four distinct operations. The influence of this distribution of employment is immense. I have seen a card manufactory where thirty workmen produced daily 15,500 cards, being above 500 cards for each labourer; and it may be presumed that if each of these workmen were obliged to perform all the operations himself, even supposing him a practised hand, he would not, perhaps, complete two cards in a day; and the 30 workmen, instead of 15,500 cards, would make only 60.”

One great promoter of the decrease of manual labour is to be found in the economy of labour from a very different cause to any I have pointed out as tending to the increase of surplus hands and casual labour, viz., to the use of machinery.

In this country the use of machinery has economised the labour both of man and horse to a greater extent than is known in any other land, and that in nearly all departments of commerce or traffic. The total estimated machine power in the kingdom is 600,000,000 of human beings, and this has been all produced within the last century. In agriculture, for example, the threshing of the corn was the peasant’s work of the later autumn and of a great part of the winter, until towards the latter part of the last century. The harvest was hardly considered complete until the corn was threshed by the peasants. On the first introduction of the threshing machines, they were demolished in many places by the country labourers, whose rage was excited to find that their winter’s work, instead of being regular, had become casual.

But the use of these machines is now almost universal. It would, of course, be the height of absurdity to say that threshing machines could possibly increase the number of threshers, even as the reaping machines cannot possibly increase the number of reapers; their effect is rather to displace the greater number of labourers so engaged, and hence indeed the “economy” of them. It is not known what number of men were, at any time, employed in threshing corn. Their displacement was gradual, and in some of the more remote parts of the provinces, the flails of the threshers may be heard still, but if a threshing machine--for they are of different power--do the work, as has been stated, of six labourers, the economization or displacement of manual labour is at once shown to be the economization and displacement of the whole labour (for a season) of a country side; thus increasing surplus hands.

In other matters--in the unloading vessels by cranes, in all branches of manufactures, and even in such minor matters as the grinding of coffee berries, and the cutting and splitting of wood for lucifer matches, an immense amount of manual labour has been minimized, economized, or displaced by steam machinery. On my inquiry into the condition of the London sawyers, I found that the labour of 2000 men had been displaced by the steam saw-mills of the metropolis alone. At one of the largest builder’s I saw machines for making mortises and tenons, for sticking mouldings, and, indeed, performing all the operations of the carpenter--one such machine doing the work, perhaps, of a hundred men. I asked the probable influence that such an instrument was likely to have on the men? “Ruin them all,” was the laconic reply of the superintendent of the business! Within the last year casks have been made by machinery--a feat that the coopers declared impossible. Wheels, also, have been lately produced by steam. I need, however, as I have so recently touched upon the subject, do no more than call attention to the information I have given (p. 240, vol. ii.) concerning the use of machinery in lieu of human labour. It is there shown that if the public street-sweeping were effected, throughout the metropolis, by the machines, nearly 196 of the 275 manual labourers, now scavaging for the parish contractors, would be thrown out of work, and deprived of 7438_l._, out of their joint earnings, in the year.

It is the fashion of political economists to insist on the general proposition that machinery increases the demand for labour, rather than decreases it; when they write unguardedly, however, they invariably betray a consciousness that the benefits of machinery to manual labourers are not quite so invariable as they would otherwise make out. Here, for instance, is a confession from the pamphlet on “the Employer and Employed,” published by the Messrs. Chambers, gentlemen who surely cannot be accused of being averse to economical doctrines. It is true the pamphlet is intended to show the evils of strikes to working men, but it likewise points out the evils of mechanical power to the same class when applied to certain operations.

“Strikes also lead to the superseding of hand labour by machines,” says this little work. “In 1831, on the occasion of a strike at Manchester, several of the capitalists, afraid of their business being driven to other countries, had recourse to the celebrated machinists, Messrs. Sharp and Co. of Manchester, requesting them to direct the inventive talents of their partner, Mr. Roberts, to the construction of a self-acting mule, in order to emancipate the trade from galling slavery and impending ruin. Under assurances of the most liberal encouragement in the adoption of his invention, Mr. Roberts suspended his professional pursuits as an engineer, and set his fertile genius to construct a spinning automaton. In the course of a few months he produced a machine, called the ‘Self-acting Mule,’ which, in 1834, was in operation in upwards of 60 factories; doing the work of the head spinners so much better than they could do it themselves, as to leave them no chance against it.

“In his work on the ‘Philosophy of Manufactures,’ Dr. Ure observes on the same subject--‘The elegant art of calico-printing, which embodies in its operations the most elegant problems of chemistry, as well as mechanics, had been for a long period the sport of foolish journeymen, who turned the liberal means of comfort it furnished them into weapons of warfare against their employers and the trade itself. They were, in fact, by their delirious combinations, plotting to kill the goose which laid the golden eggs of their industry, or to force it to fly off to a foreign land, where it might live without molestation. In the spirit of Egyptian task-masters, the operative printers dictated to the manufacturers the number and quality of the apprentices to be admitted into the trade, the hours of their own labour, and the wages to be paid them. At length capitalists sought deliverance from this intolerable bondage in the resources of science, and were speedily reinstated in their legitimate dominion of the head over the inferior members. The four-colour and five-colour machines, which now render calico-printing an unerring and expeditious process, are mounted in all great establishments. It was under the high-pressure of the same despotic confederacies, that self-acting apparatus for executing the dyeing and rinsing operations has been devised.’

“The croppers of the West Riding of Yorkshire, and the hecklers or flax-dressers, can unfold ‘a tale of wo’ on this subject. Their earnings exceeded those of most mechanics; but the frequency of strikes among them, and the irregularities in their hours and times of working, compelled masters to substitute machinery for their manual labour. Their trades, in consequence, have been in a great measure superseded.”

It must, then, be admitted that machinery, in some cases at least, does displace manual labour, and so tend to produce a surplusage of labourers, even as over-work, Sunday-work, scamping-work, strapping-work, piece-work, minutely-divided work, &c., have the same effect so long as the quantity of work to be done remains unaltered. The extensibility of the market is the one circumstance which determines whether the economy of labour produced by these means is a blessing or a curse to the nation. To apply mechanical power, the division of labour, the large system of production, or indeed any other means of enabling a less number of labourers to do the same amount of work when the quantity of work to be done is limited in its nature, as, for instance, the threshing of corn, the sawing of wood, &c., is necessarily to make either paupers or criminals of those who were previously honest independent men, living by the exercise of their industry in that particular direction. Economize your labour one-half, in connection with a particular article, and you must sell twice the quantity of that article or displace a certain number of the labourers; that is to say, suppose it requires 400 men to produce 4000 commodities in a given time, then, if you enable 200 men to produce the same quantity in the same time, you must get rid of 8000 commodities, or deprive a certain number of labourers of their ordinary means of living. Indeed, the proposition is almost self-evident, though generally ignored by social philosophers: economize your labour at a greater rate than you expand your markets, and you must necessarily increase your paupers and criminals in precisely the same ratio. “The division of labour,” says Mr. Mill, following Adam Smith, “is limited by the extent of the market. If by the separation of pin-making into ten distinct employments 48,000 pins can be made in a day, this separation will only be advisable if the number of accessible consumers is such as to require every day something like 48,000 pins. If there is a demand for only 25,000, the division of labour can be advantageously carried but to the extent which will every day produce that smaller number.” Again, as regards the large system of production, the same authority says, “the possibility of substituting the large system of production for the small depends, of course, on the extent of the market. The large system can only be advantageous when a large amount of business is to be done; it implies, therefore, either a populous and flourishing community, or a great opening for exportation.” But these are mere glimmerings of the broad incontrovertible principle, that the economization of labour at a greater rate than the expansion of the markets, is necessarily the cause of surplus labour in a community.

The effect of machinery in depriving the families of agricultural labourers of their ordinary sources of income is well established. “Those countries,” writes Mr. Thornton, “in which the class of agricultural labourers is most depressed, have all one thing in common. Each of them was formerly the seat of a flourishing manufacture carried on by the cottagers at their own homes, which has now decayed or been withdrawn to other situations. Thus, in Buckinghamshire and Bedfordshire, the wives and children of labouring men had formerly very profitable occupation in making lace; during the last war a tolerable lacemaker, working eight hours a day, could easily earn 10_s._ or 12_s._ a week; the profits of this employment have been since so much reduced by the use of machinery, that a pillow lacemaker must now work twelve hours daily to earn 2_s._ 6_d._ a week.”

* * * * *

The last of the conditions above cited, as causing the same or a greater amount of work to be executed with a less quantity of labour, is the large system of production. Mr. Babbage and Mr. Mill have so well and fully pointed out “the economy of labour” effected in this manner, that I cannot do better than quote from them upon this subject:--

“Even when no additional subdivision of the work,” says Mr. Mill, “would follow an enlargement of the operations, there will be good economy in enlarging them to the point at which every person to whom it is convenient to assign a special occupation will have full employment in that occupation.” This point is well illustrated by Mr. Babbage:--“If machines be kept working through the 24 hours” [which is evidently the only economical mode of employing them], “it is necessary that some person shall attend to admit the workmen at the time they relieve each other; and whether the porter or other servant so employed admit one person or twenty, his rest will be equally disturbed. It will also be necessary occasionally to adjust or repair the machine; and this can be done much better by a workman accustomed to machine-making than by the person who uses it. Now, since the good performance and the duration of machines depend, to a very great extent, upon correcting every shake or imperfection in their parts as soon as they appear, the prompt attention of a workman resident on the spot will considerably reduce the expenditure arising from the wear and tear of the machinery. But in the case of a single lace-frame, or a single loom, this would be too expensive a plan. Here, then, arises another circumstance, which tends to enlarge the extent of the factory. It ought to consist of such a number of machines as shall occupy the whole time of one workman in keeping them in order. If extended beyond that number the same principle of economy would point out the necessity of doubling or tripling the number of machines, in order to employ the whole time of two or three skilful workmen. Where one portion of the workman’s labour consists in the exertion of mere physical force, as in weaving, and in many similar arts, it will soon occur to the manufacturer that, if that part were executed by a steam-engine, the same man might, in the case of weaving, attend to two or more looms at once; and, since we already suppose that one or more operative engineers have been employed, the number of looms may be so arranged that their time shall be fully occupied in keeping the steam-engine and the looms in order.

“Pursuing the same principles, the manufactory becomes gradually so enlarged that the expense of lighting during the night amounts to a considerable sum; and as there are already attached to the establishment persons who are up all night, and can therefore constantly attend to it, and also engineers to make and keep in repair any machinery, the addition of an apparatus for making gas to light the factory leads to a new extension, at the same time that it contributes, by diminishing the expense of lighting and the risk of accidents from fire, to reduce the cost of manufacturing.

“Long before a factory has reached this extent it will have been found necessary to establish an accountant’s department, with clerks to pay the workmen, and to see that they arrive at their stated times; and this department must be in communication with the agents who purchase the raw produce, and with those who sell the manufactured article. It will cost these clerks and accountants little more time and trouble to pay a large number of workmen than a small number, to check the accounts of large transactions than of small. If the business doubled itself it would probably be necessary to increase, but certainly not to double, the number either of accountants or of buying and selling agents. Every increase of business would enable the whole to be carried on with a proportionally smaller amount of labour. As a general rule, the expenses of a business do not increase by any means proportionally to the quantity of business. Let us take as an example a set of operations which we are accustomed to see carried on by one great establishment--that of the Post Office.

“Suppose that the business, let us say only of the London letter-post, instead of being centralised in a single concern, were divided among five or six competing companies. Each of these would be obliged to maintain almost as large an establishment as is now sufficient for the whole. Since each must arrange for receiving and delivering letters in all parts of the town, each must send letter-carriers into every street, and almost every alley, and this, too, as many times in the day as is now done by the Post Office, if the service is to be as well performed. Each must have an office for receiving letters in every neighbourhood, with all subsidiary arrangements for collecting the letters from the different offices and re-distributing them. I say nothing of the much greater number of superior officers who would be required to check and control the subordinates, implying not only a greater cost in salaries for such responsible officers, but the necessity, perhaps, of being satisfied in many instances with an inferior standard of qualification, and so failing in the object.”

But this refers solely to the “large system of business” as applied to purposes of manufacture and distribution. In connection with agriculture there is the same saving of labour effected. “The large farmer,” says Mr. Mill, “has some advantage in the article of buildings. It does not cost so much to house a great number of cattle in one building, as to lodge them equally well in several buildings. There is also some advantage in implements. A small farmer is not so likely to possess expensive instruments. But the principal agricultural implements, even when of the best construction, are not expensive. It may not answer to a small farmer to own a threshing machine for the small quantity of corn he has to thresh; but there is no reason why such a machine should not in every neighbourhood be owned in common, or provided by some person to whom the others pay a consideration for its use. The large farmer can make some saving in cost of carriage. There is nearly as much trouble in carrying a small portion of produce to market, as a much greater produce; in bringing home a small, as a much larger quantity of manure, and articles of daily consumption. There is also the greater cheapness of buying things in large quantities.”

A short time ago I went into Buckinghamshire to look into the allotment system. And, in one parish of 1800 acres, I found that some years ago there were seventeen farmers who occupied, upon the average, 100 acres each, and who, previous to the immigration of the Irish harvest-men, constantly employed six men a-piece, or, in the aggregate, upwards of 100 hands. Now, however, the farmers in the same parish occupy to the extent of 300 acres each, and respectively employ only six men and a few extra hands at harvest time. Thus the number of hands employed by this system has been decreased one-half. I learned, moreover, from a clergyman there, who had resided in Wiltshire, that the same thing was going on in that county also; that small farms were giving way to large farms, and that at least half the labourers had been displaced. The agricultural labourers, at the time of taking the last census, were 1,500,000 in number; so that, if this system be generally carried out, there must be 750,000 labourers and their families, or 3,000,000 people, deprived of their living by it.

Sir James Graham, in his evidence before the Committee on Criminal Commitments, has given us some curious particulars as to the decrease of the number of hands required for agricultural purposes, where the large system of production is pursued in place of the small: he has told us how many hands he was enabled to get rid of by these means, the proportion of labour displaced, it will be seen, amounted to about 10 per cent. of the labouring population. In answer to a question relative to the increase of population in his district, he replied:--

“I have myself taken very strong means to prevent it, for it so happens that my whole estate came out of lease in the year 1822, after the currency of a lease of fourteen years; and by consolidation of farms, and the destruction of cottages, I have diminished, upon my own property, the population to the extent of from 300 to 400 souls.”

“On how many acres?--On about 30,000 acres.” [This is at the rate of one in every 100 acres].

“What was the whole extent of population?--It was under 4000 before I reduced it.

“What became of those 300 or 400?--The greater part of them, being small tenants, were enabled to find farms on the estates of other proprietors, who pursued the opposite course of subdividing their estates for the purpose of obtaining higher nominal rents; others have become day labourers, and as day labourers, I have reason to know, they are more thriving than they were on my estate as small farmers, subject to a high rent, which their want of capital seldom enabled them to pay; two or three of these families went to America.

“Have you any out of work?--None entirely out of work, some only partially employed; but since the dispersion of this large mass of population, the supply of labour has not much exceeded the demand, for whenever I removed a family, I pulled down the house, and the parochial jealousy respecting settlements is an ample check on the influx of strangers.”

Similar to the influence of the large system of production in its displacement of labourers, as enabling a larger quantity of work to be executed by one establishment with a smaller number of hands than would be required were the amount of work to be divided into a number of smaller establishments,--similar to this mode of economizing labour, is that mode of work which, by altering the produce rather than the mode of production, and by substituting an article that requires less labour for one that required more, gets rid of a large quantity of labour, and, consequently, adds to the surplusage of labourers. An instance of this is in the substitution of pasturage for tillage. “Plough less and graze more,” says Sir J. Graham, the great economist of labour, simply because fewer people will be required to attend to the land. But this plan of grazing instead of ploughing was adopted in this country some centuries back, and with what effect to the labourers and the people at large, the following extract from the work of Mr. Thornton, on over-population, will show:--

“The extension of the woollen manufacture was raising the price of wool; and the little attendance which sheep require was an additional motive for causing sheep farming to be preferred to tillage. Arable land, therefore, began to be converted into pasture; and the seemingly-interminable corn fields, which, like those of Germany at this day, probably extended for miles without having their even surface broken by fences or any other visible boundaries, disappeared. After being sown with grass they were surrounded and divided by inclosures, to prevent the sheep from straying, and to do away with the necessity of having shepherds always on the watch. By these changes the quantity of work to be done upon a farm was exceedingly diminished, and most of the servants, whom it had been usual to board and lodge in the manor and farm-houses, were dismissed. This was not all. The married farm-servants were ousted from their cottages, which were pulled down, and their gardens and fields were annexed to the adjoining meadows. The small farmers were treated in the same way, as their leases fell in, and were sent to join the daily increasing crowd of competitors for work that was daily increasing in quantity.

“Even freeholders were in some instances ejected from their lands. This social revolution had probably commenced even before the prosperity of the peasantry had reached its climax; but in 1487 it attracted the notice of Parliament, and an Act was passed to restrain its progress; for already it was observed that inclosures were becoming ‘more frequent, whereby arable land, which could not be manured without people and families, was turned into pasture, which was easily rid by a few herdsmen;’ and that ‘tenancies for years, lives, and at will, whereupon most of the yeomanry lived, were turned into demesnes’[35]. In 1533[36], an Act was passed strongly condemning the practice of ‘accumulating’ farms, which it was declared had reduced ‘a marvellous multitude’ of the people to poverty and misery, and left them no alternative but to steal, or to die ‘pitifully’ of cold and hunger. In this Act it was stated that single farms might be found with flocks of from 10,000 to 20,000 sheep upon them; and it was ordained that no man should keep more than 2000 sheep, except upon his own land, or rent more than two farms.

“Two years later it was enacted that the king should have a moiety of the profits of land converted (subsequently to a date specified) from tillage to pastures, until a suitable house was erected, and the land was restored to tillage. In 1552, a law[37] was made which required that on all estates as large a quantity of land as had been kept in tillage for four years together at any time since the accession of Henry VIII., should be so continued in tillage. But these, and many subsequent enactments of the same kind, had not the smallest effect in checking the consolidation of farms. We find Roger Ascham, in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, lamenting the dispersion of families, the ruin of houses, the breaking up and destruction of ‘the noble yeomanry, the honour and strength of England.’ Harrison also speaks of towns pulled down for sheep-walks; ‘and of the tenements that had fallen either down or into the lord’s hands;’ or had been ‘brought and united together by other men, so that in some one manor, seventeen, eighteen, or twenty houses were shrunk.’[38]

“‘Where have been a great many householders and inhabitants,’ says Bishop Latimer, ‘there is now but a shepherd and his dog.’[39] And in a curious tract, published in 1581, by one William Stafford, a husbandman is made to exclaim, ‘Marry, these inclosures do and undo us all, for they make us pay dearer for our land that we occupy, and causeth that we can have no land to put to tillage; all is taken up for pasture, either for sheep or for grazing of cattle, insomuch that I have known of late a dozen ploughs, within less compass than six miles about me, laid down within this seven years; and where threescore persons or upwards had their livings, now one man, with his cattle, hath all. Those sheep is the cause of all our mischief, for they have driven husbandry out of the country, by which was increased before all kinds of victuals, and now altogether sheep, sheep, sheep.’[40] While numbers of persons were thus continually driven from their homes, and deprived of their means of livelihood, we need not be at a loss to account for the increase of vagrancy, without ascribing it to the increase of population.”

As an instance, within our time, of the same mode of causing a surplusage of labourers, and so adding to the quantity of casual labour in the kingdom, viz., by the extension of pasturage and consequent diminution of tillage, we may cite the “clearances,” as they were called, which took place, some few years back, in the Highlands of Scotland. “It is only within the last few years,” says the author above quoted, “that the strathes and glens of Sutherland have been cleared of their inhabitants, and that the whole country has been converted into one immense sheepwalk, over which the traveller may proceed for 40 miles together without seeing a tree or a stone wall, or anything, but a heath dotted with sheep and lambs[41].... The example of Sutherland is imitated in the neighbouring counties. During the last four years some hundreds of families have been ‘weeded’ out of Ross-shire, and nearly 400 more have received notice to quit next year. Similar notice has been given to 34 families in Cromarty, and only the other day eighteen families, who were living in peace and comfort, in Glencalvie, in Ross-shire, were expelled from the farms occupied for ages by themselves and their forefathers, to make room for sheep.” And still we are told to “plough less and graze more!”

* * * * *

We now come to the last-mentioned of the circumstances inducing a surplusage of labourers, and, consequently, augmenting the amount of casual labour throughout the kingdom, viz., by altering the mode of hiring the labourers. At page 236 of the present volume, I have said, in connection with this part of the subject,--

“Formerly the mode of hiring farm-labourers was by the year, so that the employer was bound to maintain the men when unemployed. But now weekly hirelings and even journey-work, or hiring by the day, prevail, and the labourers being paid mere subsistence-money only when wanted are necessitated to become either paupers or thieves when their services are no longer required. It is, moreover, this change from yearly to weekly and daily hirings, and the consequent discarding of men when no longer wanted, that has partly caused the immense mass of surplus labourers, who are continually vagabondizing through the country, begging or stealing as they go--men for whom there is but some two or three weeks’ work (harvesting, hop-picking, and the like) throughout the year.”

Blackstone, in treating of the laws relating to master and servant (the greater part of the farm labourers or farm servants, as they were then called, being included under the latter head), tells us at page 425 of his first volume--

“The first sort of servants, acknowledged by the laws of England, are MENIAL SERVANTS; so called from being inter mœnia or domestic. The contract between them and their masters arises upon the hiring. If the hiring be generally, without any particular time limited, the law construes it to be a hiring for a year (Co. Lit. 42); upon a principle of natural equity, that the servant shall serve, and the master maintain him, throughout all the revolutions of the respective seasons, as well when there is work to be done, as when there is not.”

Mr. Thornton says, “until recently it had been common for farm servants, even when married and living in their own cottages, to take their meals with their master; and, what was of more consequence, in every farm-house, many unmarried servants, of both sexes, were lodged, as well as boarded. The latter, therefore, even if ill paid, might be tolerably housed and fed, and many of them fared, no doubt, much better than they could have done if they had been left to provide for themselves, with treble their actual wages.”

Formerly throughout the kingdom--and it is a custom still prevalent in some parts, more especially in the north--single men and women seeking engagements as farm-servants, congregated at what were called the “Hirings,” held usually on the three successive market days, which were nearest to May-day and Martinmas-day. The hiring was thus at two periods of the year, but the engagement was usually for the twelvemonth. By the concurrent consent, however, of master and servant, when the hiring took place, either side might terminate it at the expiration of the six months, by giving due notice; or a further hiring for a second twelvemonth could be legally effected without the necessity of again going to the hirings. The servants, even before their term of service had expired, could attend a hiring (generally held under the authority of the town’s charter) as a matter of right; the master and mistress having no authority to prevent them. The Market Cross was the central point for the holding of the hirings, and the men and women, the latter usually the most numerous, stood in rows around the cross. The terms being settled, the master or mistress gave the servant “a piece of money,” known as a “god’s penny” (the “handsel penny”), the offer and acceptance of this god’s penny being a legal ratification of the agreement, without any other step. In the old times such engagements had almost always (as shown in the term “God’s penny”) a character of religious obligation. At the earliest period, the hirings were held in the church-yards; afterwards by the Market Cross.

I have spoken of this matter more in the past than the present tense, for the system is greatly changed as regards the male farm-servant, though little as regards the female. Now the male farm-labourers, instead of being hired for a specific term, are more generally hired by week, by job, or by day; indeed, even “half-a-day’s” work is known. At one period it was merely the married country labourers, residing in their own cottages, who were temporarily engaged, but it is now the general body, married and unmarried, old and young, with a few exceptions. Formerly the farmer was bound to find work for six or twelve months (for both terms existed) for his hired labourers. If the land did not supply it, still the man must be maintained, and be paid his full wages when due. By such a provision, the labour and wage of the hired husbandman were regular and rarely casual; but this arrangement is now seldom entered into, and the hired husbandman’s labour is consequently generally casual and rarely regular. This principle of hiring labourers only for so long as they are wanted, as contradistinguished from the “principle of natural equity,” spoken of by Blackstone, which requires that “the servant shall serve and the master maintain him throughout all the revolutions of the respective seasons, as well when there is work to be done as when there is not,” has been the cause, perhaps, of more casual labour and more pauperism and crime, in this country, than, perhaps, any other of the antecedents before mentioned. The harvest is now collected solely by casual labourers, by a horde of squalid immigrants, or the tribe of natural and forced vagabonds who are continually begging or stealing their way throughout the country; our hops are picked, our fruit and vegetables gathered by the same precarious bands--wretches who, perhaps, obtain some three months’ harvest labour in the course of the year. The ships at our several ports are discharged by the same “casual hands,” who may be seen at our docks scrambling like hounds for the occasional bit of bread that is vouchsafed to them; there numbers loiter throughout the day, even on the chance of an hour’s employment; for the term of hiring has been cut down to the finest possible limits, so that the labourer may not be paid for even a second longer than he is wanted. And since he gets only bare subsistence money when employed, “What,” we should ask ourselves, “must be his lot when unemployed?”

* * * * *

I now come to consider the circumstances causing an undue increase of the labourers in a country. Thus far we have proceeded on the assumption that both the quantity of work to be done and the number of hands to do it remained stationary, and we have seen that by the mere alteration of the time, rate, and mode of working, a vast amount of surplus, and, consequently, casual labour may be induced in a community. We have now to ascertain how, still assuming the quantity of work to remain unaltered, the same effect may be brought about by an undue increase of the number of labourers.

There are many means by which the number of labourers may be increased besides that of a positive increase of the people. These are--

1. By the undue increase of apprentices.

2. By drafting into the ranks of labour those who should be otherwise engaged, as women and children.

3. By the importation of labourers from abroad.

4. By the migration of country labourers to towns, and so overcrowding the market in the cities.

5. By the depression of other trades.

6. By the undue increase of the people themselves.

Each and every of the first-mentioned causes are as effective a circumstance for the promotion of surplus labour, as even the positive extension of the population of the country.

Let me begin with the undue increase of a trade by means of apprentices.

This is, perhaps, one of the chief aids to the cheap system. For it is principally by apprentice labour that the better masters, as well as workmen, are undersold, and the skilled labourer consequently depressed to the level of the unskilled. But the great evil is, that the cheapening of goods by this means causes an undue increase in the trade. The apprentices grow up and become labourers, and so the trade is glutted with workmen, and casual labour is the consequence.

This apprentice system is the great bane of the printer’s trade. Country printers take an undue number of boys to help them cheap; these lads grow up, and then, finding wages in the provinces depressed through this system of apprentice labour, they flock to the towns, and so tend to glut the labour market, and consequently to increase the number of casual hands.

One cause of the increased surplus and casual labour in such trades as dressing-case, work-box, writing-desk-making and other things in the fancy cabinet trade (among the worst trades even in Spitalfields and Bethnal Green), shoemaking, and especially of women and children’s shoes, is the taking of many apprentices by small masters (supplying the great warehouses). As journey-work is all but unknown in the slop fancy cabinet trade, an apprentice, when he has “served his time,” must start on his own account in the same wretched way of business, or become a casual labourer in some unskilled avocation, and this is one way in which the hands surely, although gradually, increase beyond the demand. It is the same with the general slop cabinet-maker’s trade in the same parts. The small masters supply the “slaughterhouses,” the linen-drapers, &c., who sell cheap furniture; they work in the quickest and most scamping manner, and do more work (which is nearly all done on the chance of sale), as they must confine themselves to one branch. The slop chair-makers cannot make tables, nor the slop table-makers, chairs; nor the cheffonier and drawer-makers, bedsteads; for they have not been taught. Even if they knew the method, and could accomplish other work, the want of practice would compel them to do it slowly, and the slop mechanic can never afford to work slowly. Such classes of little masters, then, to meet the demand for low-priced furniture, rear their sons to the business, and frequently take apprentices, to whom they pay small amounts. The hands so trained (as in the former instances) are not skilled enough to work for the honourable trade, so that they can only adopt the course pursued by their parents, or masters, before them. Hence a rapid, although again gradual, increase of surplus hands; or hence a resort to some unskilled labour, to be wrought casually. This happens too, but in a smaller degree, in trades which are not slop, from the same cause. Concerning the apprentice system in the boot and shoe trade, when making my inquiries into the condition of the London workmen, I received the following statements:--

“My employer had seven apprentices when I was with him; of these, two were parish apprentices (I was one), and the other five from the Refuge for the Destitute, at Hoxton. With each Refuge boy he got 5_l._ and three suits of clothes, and a kit (tools). With the parish boys of Covent-garden and St. Andrew’s, Holborn, he got 5_l._ and two suits of clothes, reckoning what the boy wore as one. My employer was a journeyman, and by having all us boys he was able to get up work very cheap, though he received good wages for it. We boys had no allowance in money, only board, lodging, and clothing. The board was middling, the lodging was too, and there was nothing to complain about in the clothing. He was severe in the way of flogging. I ran away six times myself, but was forced to go back again, as I had no money and no friend in the world. When I first ran away I complained to Mr. ---- the magistrate, and he was going to give me six weeks. He said it would do me good; but Mr. ---- interfered, and I was let go. I don’t know what he was going to give me six weeks for, unless it was for having a black eye that my master had given me with the stirrup. Of the seven only one served his time out. He let me off two years before my time was up, as we couldn’t agree. The mischief of taking so many apprentices is this:--The master gets money with them from the parish, and can feed them much as he likes as to quality and quantity; and if they run away soon, the master’s none the worse, for he’s got the money; and so boys are sent out to turn vagrants when they run away, as such boys have no friends. Of us seven boys (at the wages our employer got) one could earn 19_s._, another 15_s._, another 12_s._, another 10_s._, and the rest not less than 8_s._ each, for all worked sixteen hours a day--that’s 4_l._ 8_s._ a week for the seven, or 225_l._ 10_s._ a year. You must recollect I reckon this on nearly the best wages in the women’s trade. My employer you may call a sweater, and he made money fast, though he drank a good deal. We seldom saw him when he was drunk; but he did pitch into us when he was getting sober. Look how easily such a man with apprentices can undersell others when he wants to work as cheap as possible for the great slop warehouses. They serve haberdashers so cheap that oft enough it’s starvation wages for the same shops.”

Akin to the system of using a large number of apprentices is that of employing boys and girls to displace the work of men, at the less laborious parts of the trade.

“It is probable,” said a working shoemaker to me, “that, independent of apprentices, 200 additional hands are added to our already over-burdened trade yearly. Sewing boys soon learn the use of the knife. Plenty of poor men will offer to finish them for a pound and a month’s work; and men, for a few shillings and a few weeks’ work, will teach other boys to sew. There are many of the wives of chamber-masters teach girls entirely to make children’s work for a pound and a few months’ work, and there are many in Bethnal-green who have learnt the business in this way. These teach some other members of their families, and then actually set up in business in opposition to those who taught them, and in cutting offer their work for sale at a much lower rate of profit; and shopkeepers in town and country, having circulars sent to solicit custom, will have their goods from a warehouse that will serve them cheapest; then the warehouseman will have them cheap from the manufacturer; and he in his turn cuts down the wages of the workpeople, who fear to refuse offers at the warehouse price, knowing the low rate at which chamber-masters will serve the warehouse.”

As in all trades where lowness of wages is the rule, the boy system of labour prevails among the cheap cabinet-workers. It prevails, however, among the garret-masters, by very many of them having one, two, three or four youths to help them, and so the number of boys thus employed through the whole trade is considerable. This refers principally to the general cabinet trade. In the fancy trade the number is greater, as the boys’ labour is more readily available; but in this trade the greatest number of apprentices is employed by such warehousemen as are manufacturers, as some at the East end are, or rather by the men that they constantly keep at work. Of these men, one has now eight and another fourteen boys in his service, some apprenticed, some merely “engaged” and dischargeable at pleasure. A sharp boy, in six or eight months, becomes “handy;” but four out of five of the workmen thus brought up can do nothing well but their own particular branch, and that only well as far as celerity in production is considered.

It is these boys who are put to make, or as a master of the better class distinguished to me, not to make but to put together, ladies’ work-boxes at 5_d._ a piece, the boy receiving 2-1/2_d._ a box. ‘Such boxes,’ said another workman, ‘are nailed together; there’s no dove-tailing, nothing of what I call work, or workmanship, as you say, about them, but the deal’s nailed together, and the veneer’s dabbed on, and if the deal’s covered, why the thing passes. The worst of it is, that people don’t understand either good work or good wood. Polish them up and they look well. Besides--and that’s another bad thing, for it encourages bad work--there’s no stress on a lady’s work-box, as on a chair or a sofa, and so bad work lasts far too long, though not half so long as good; in solids especially, if not in veneers.’

To such a pitch is this demand for children’s labour carried, that there is a market in Bethnal-green, where boys and girls stand twice a week to be hired as binders and sewers. Hence it will be easily understood that it is impossible for the skilled and grown artizan to compete with the labour of mere children, who are thus literally brought into the market to undersell him!

Concerning this market for boys and girls, in Bethnal-green, I received, during my inquiries into the boot and shoe trade, the following statements from shopkeepers on the spot:--

“Mr. H---- has lived there sixteen years. The market-days are Monday and Tuesday mornings, from seven to nine. The ages of persons who assemble there vary from ten to twenty, and they are often of the worst character, and a decided nuisance to the inhabitants. A great many of both sexes congregate together, and most market days there are three females to one male. They consist of sewing boys, shoe-binders, winders for weavers, and girls for all kinds of slop needlework, girls for domestic work, nursing children, &c. No one can testify, for a fact, that they (the females) are prostitutes; but, by their general conduct, they are fit for anything. The market, some years since, was held at the top of Abbey-street; but, on account of the nuisance, it was removed to the other end of Abbey-street. When the schools were built, the nuisance became so intolerable that it was removed to a railway arch in White-street, Bethnal-green. There are two policemen on market mornings to keep order, but my informant says they require four to maintain anything like subjection.”

* * * * *

But family work, or the conjoint labour of a workman’s wife and children, is an equally extensive cause of surplus and casual labour.

A small master, working, perhaps, upon goods to be supplied at the lowest rates to wholesale warehousemen, will often contribute to this result by the way in which he brings up his children. It is less expensive to him to teach them his own business, and he may even reap a profit from their labour, than to have them brought up to some other calling. I met with an instance of this in an inquiry among the toy-makers. A maker of common toys brought up five children to his own trade, for boys and girls can be made useful in such labour at an early age. His business fell off rapidly, which he attributed to the great and numerous packages of cheap toys imported from Germany, Holland, and France, after the lowering of the duty by Sir Robert Peel’s tariff. The chief profit to the toy-maker was derived from the labour, as the material was of trifling cost. He found, on the change in his trade, that he could not employ all his family. His fellow tradesmen, he said, were in the same predicament; and thus surplus hands were created, so leading to casualty in labour.

“The system which has, I believe, the worst effect on the women’s trade in the boot and shoe business throughout England is,” I said in the Morning Chronicle, “chamber-mastering. There are between 300 and 400 chamber-masters. Commonly the man has a wife, and three or four children, ten years old or upwards. The wife cuts out the work for the binders, the husband does the knife-work, the children sew with uncommon rapidity. The husband, when the work is finished at night, goes out with it, though wet and cold, and perhaps hungry--his wife and children waiting his return. He returns sometimes, having sold his work at cost price, or not cleared 1_s._ 6_d._ for the day’s labour of himself and family. In the winter, by this means, the shopkeepers and warehouses can take the advantage of the chamber-master, buying the work at their own price. By this means haberdashers’ shops are supplied with boots, shoes, and slippers; they can sell women’s boots at 1_s._ 9_d._ per pair; shoes, 1_s._ 3_d._ per pair; children’s, 6_d._, 8_d._, and 9_d._ per pair, getting a good profit, having bought them of the poor chamber-master for almost nothing, and he glad to sell them at any price, late at night, his children wanting bread, and he having walked about for hours, in vain trying to get a fair price for them; thus, women and children labour as well as husbands and fathers, and, with their combined labours, they only obtain a miserable living.”

The labour of the wife, and indeed the whole family--family work, as it is called--is attended with the same evil to a trade, introducing a large supply of fresh hands to the labour market, and so tending to glut with workpeople each trade into which they are introduced, and thus to increase the casual labour, and decrease the earnings of the whole.

“The only means of escape from the inevitable poverty,” I said in the same letters, “which sooner or later overwhelms those in connection with the cheap shoe trade, seems to the workmen to be by the employment of his whole family as soon as his children are able to be put to the trade--and yet this only increases the very depression that he seeks to avoid. I give the statement of such a man residing in the suburbs of London, and working with three girls to help him:--

“‘I have known the business,’ he said, ‘many years, but was not brought up to it. I took it up because my wife’s father was in the trade, and taught me. I was a weaver originally, but it is a bad business, and I have been in this trade seventeen years. Then I had only my wife and myself able to work. At that time my wife and I, by hard work, could earn 1_l._ a week; on the same work we could not now earn 12_s._ a week. As soon as the children grew old enough the falling off in the wages compelled us to put them to work one by one--as soon as a child could make threads. One began to do that between eight and nine. I have had a large family, and with very hard work too. We have had to lie on straw oft enough. Now, three daughters, my wife, and myself work together, in chamber-mastering; the whole of us may earn, one week with another, 28_s._ a week, and out of that I have eight to support. Out of that 28_s._ I have to pay for grindery and candles, which cost me 1_s._ a week the year through. I now make children’s shoes for the wholesale houses and anybody. About two years ago I travelled from Thomas-street, Bethnal-green, to Oxford-street, “on the hawk.” I then positively had nothing in my inside, and in Holborn I had to lean against a house, through weakness from hunger. I was compelled, as I could sell nothing at that end of the town, to walk down to Whitechapel at ten at night. I went into a shop near Mile-end turnpike, and the same articles (children’s patent leather shoes) that I received 8_s._ a dozen for from the wholesale houses, I was compelled to sell to the shopkeeper for 6_s._ 6_d._ This is a very frequent case--very frequent--with persons circumstanced as I am, and so trade is injured and only some hard man gains by it.’”

Here is the statement of a worker at “fancy cabinet” work on the same subject:--

“The most on us has got large families. We put the children to work as soon as we can. My little girl began about six, but about eight or nine is the usual age.” “Oh, poor little things,” said the wife, “they are obliged to begin the very minute they can use their fingers at all.” “The most of the cabinet-makers of the East end have from five to six in family, and they are generally all at work for them. The small masters mostly marry when they are turned of 20. You see our trade’s coming to such a pass, that unless a man has children to help him he can’t live at all. I’ve worked more than a month together, and the longest night’s rest I’ve had has been an hour and a quarter; aye, and I’ve been up three nights a week besides. I’ve had my children lying ill, and been obliged to wait on them into the bargain. You see, we couldn’t live if it wasn’t for the labour of our children, though it makes ’em--poor little things!--old people long afore they are growed up.”

“Why, I stood at this bench,” said the wife, “with my child, only ten years of age, from four o’clock on Friday morning till ten minutes past seven in the evening, without a bit to eat or drink. I never sat down a minute from the time I began till I finished my work, and then I went out to sell what I had done. I walked all the way from here [Shoreditch] down to the Lowther Arcade, to get rid of the articles.” Here she burst out in a violent flood of tears, saying, “Oh, sir, it is hard to be obliged to labour from morning till night as we do, all of us, little ones and all, and yet not be able to live by it either.”

“And you see the worst of it is, this here children’s labour is of such value now in our trade, that there’s more brought into the business every year, so that it’s really for all the world like breeding slaves. Without my children I don’t know how we should be able to get along.” “There’s that little thing,” said the man, pointing to the girl ten years of age before alluded to, as she sat at the edge of the bed, “why she works regularly every day from six in the morning till ten at night. She never goes to school. We can’t spare her. There’s schools enough about here for a penny a week, but we could not afford to keep her without working. If I’d ten more children I should be obliged to employ them all the same way, and there’s hundreds and thousands of children now slaving at this business. There’s the M----’s; they have a family of eight, and the youngest to the oldest of all works at the bench; and the oldest ain’t fourteen. I’m sure, of the 2500 small masters in the cabinet line, you may safely say that 2000 of them, at the very least, has from five to six in family, and that’s upwards of 12,000 children that’s been put to the trade since prices has come down. Twenty years ago I don’t think there was a child at work in our business; and I am sure there is not a small master now whose whole family doesn’t assist him. But what I want to know is, what’s to become of the 12,000 children when they’re growed up, and come regular into the trade? Here are all my young ones growing up without being taught anything but a business that I know they must starve at.”

In answer to my inquiry as to what dependence he had in case of sickness, “Oh, bless you,” he said, “there’s nothing but the parish for us. I did belong to a Benefit Society about four years ago, but I couldn’t keep up my payments any longer. I was in the society above five-and-twenty year, and then was obliged to leave it after all. I don’t know of one as belongs to any Friendly Society, and I don’t think there is a man as can afford it in our trade now. They must all go to the workhouse when they’re sick or old.”

The following is from a journeyman tailor, concerning the employment of women in his trade:--

“When I first began working at this branch, there were but very few females employed in it: a few white waistcoats were given out to them, under the idea that women would make them cleaner than men--and so indeed they can. But since the last five years the sweaters have employed females upon cloth, silk, and satin waistcoats as well, and before that time the idea of a woman making a cloth waistcoat would have been scouted. But since the increase of the puffing and the sweating system, masters and sweaters have sought everywhere for such hands as would do the work below the regular ones. Hence the wife has been made to compete with the husband, and the daughter with the wife: they all learn the waistcoat business, and must all get a living. If the man will not reduce the price of his labour to that of the female, why he must remain unemployed; and if the full-grown woman will not take the work at the same price as the young girl, why she must remain without any. The female hands, I can confidently state, have been sought out and introduced to the business by the sweaters, from a desire on their part continually to ferret out hands who will do the work cheaper than others. The effect that this continual reduction has had upon me is this: Before the year 1844 I could live comfortably, and keep my wife and children (I had five in family) by my own labour. My wife then attended to her domestic and family duties; but since that time, owing to the reduction in prices, she has been compelled to resort to her needle, as well as myself, for her living.” [On the table was a bundle of crape and bombazine ready to be made up into a dress.] “I cannot afford now to let her remain idle--that is, if I wish to live, and keep my children out of the streets, and pay my way. My wife’s earnings are, upon an average, 8_s._ per week. She makes dresses. I never would teach her to make waistcoats, because I knew the introduction of female hands had been the ruin of my trade. With the labour of myself and wife now I can only earn 32_s._ a week, and six years ago I could make my 36_s._ If I had a daughter I should be obliged to make her work as well, and then probably, with the labour of the three of us, we could make up at the week’s end as much money, as, up to 1844, I could get by my own single hands. My wife, since she took to dressmaking, has become sickly from over-exertion. Her work, and her domestic and family duties altogether, are too much for her. Last night I was up all night with her, and was compelled to call in a female to attend her as well. The over-exertion now necessary for us to maintain a decent appearance, has so ruined her constitution that she is not the same woman as she was. In fact, ill as she is, she has been compelled to rise from her bed to finish a mourning-dress against time, and I myself have been obliged to give her a helping-hand, and turn to at women’s work in the same manner as the women are turning to at men’s work.”

“The cause of the serious decrease in our trade,” said another tailor to me, “is the employment given to workmen at their own homes; or, in other words, to the ‘sweaters.’ The sweater is the greatest evil to us; as the sweating system increases the number of hands to an almost incredible extent--wives, sons, daughters, and extra women, all working ‘long days’--that is, labouring from sixteen to eighteen hours per day, and Sundays as well. I date the decrease in the wages of the workman from the introduction of piece-work and giving out garments to be made off the premises of the master; for the effect of this was, that the workman making the garment, knowing that the master could not tell whom he got to do his work for him, employed women and children to help him, and paid them little or nothing for their labour. This was the beginning of the sweating system. The workmen gradually became transformed from journeymen into ‘middlemen,’ living by the labour of others. Employers soon began to find that they could get garments made at a less sum than the regular price, and those tradesmen who were anxious to force their trade, by underselling their more honourable neighbours, readily availed themselves of this means of obtaining cheap labour. The consequence was, that the sweater sought out where he could get the work done the cheapest, and so introduced a fresh stock of hands into the trade. Female labour, of course, could be had cheaper than male, and the sweater readily availed himself of the services of women on that account. Hence the males who had formerly been employed upon the garments were thrown out of work by the females, and obliged to remain unemployed, unless they would reduce the price of their work to that of the women. It cannot, therefore, be said that the reduction of prices originally arose from there having been more workmen than there was work for them to do. There was no superabundance of hands until female labour was generally introduced--and even if the workmen had increased 25 per cent. more than what they were twenty years back, still that extra number of hands would be required now to make the same number of garments, owing to the work put into each article being at least one-fourth more than formerly. So far from the trade being over-stocked with male hands, if the work were confined to the men or the masters’ premises, there would not be sufficient hands to do the whole.”

According to the last Census (1841, G.B.), out of a population of 18,720,000 the proportions of the people occupied and unoccupied were as follows:--

Occupied 7,800,000 Unoccupied (including women and children) 10,920,000

Of those who were occupied the following were the proportions:--

Engaged in productive employments[42] 5,350,000 Engaged in non-productive employments 2,450,000

Of those who were engaged in productive employments, the proportion (in round numbers) ran as follows:--

Men 3,785,000 Women 660,000 Boys and girls 905,000

Here, then, we find nearly one-fifth, or 20 per cent., of our producers to be boys and girls, and upwards of 10 per cent. to be women. Such was the state of things in 1841. In order to judge of the possible and probable condition of the labour market of the country, if this introduction of women and children into the ranks of the labourers be persisted in, let us see what were the proportions of the 10,920,000 men, women, and children who ten years ago still remained unoccupied among us. The ratio was as follows:--

Men 275,000 Women 3,570,000 Boys and girls 7,075,000

Here the unoccupied men are about 5 per cent. of the whole, the children nearly two-thirds, and the wives about one-third. Now it appears that out of say 19,000,000 people, 8,000,000 were, in 1841, occupied, and by far the greater number, 11,000,000, unoccupied.

Who were the remaining eleven millions, and what were they doing? They, of course, consisted principally of the unemployed wives and children of the eight millions of people before specified, three millions and a half of the number being females of twenty years of age and upwards, and seven millions being children of both sexes under twenty. Of these children, four millions, according to the “age abstract,” were under ten years, so that we may fairly assume that, at the time of taking the last census, there were very nearly seven millions of wives and children of a workable age still unoccupied. Let us suppose, then, that these seven millions of people are brought in competition with the five million producers. What is to be the consequence? If the labour market be overstocked at present with only five millions of people working for the support of nineteen millions (I speak according to the Census of 1841), what would it be if another seven millions were to be dragged into it? And if wages are low now, and employment is precarious on account of this, what will not both work and pay sink to when the number is again increased, and the people clamouring for employment are at least treble what they are at present? When the wife has been taught to compete for work with the husband, and son and daughter to undersell their own father, what will be the state of our labour market then?

* * * * *

But the labour of wives, and children, and apprentices, is not the only means of glutting a particular trade with hands. There is another system becoming every day more popular with our enterprising tradesmen, and this is the importation of foreign labourers. In the cheap tailoring this is made a regular practice. Cheap labour is regularly imported, not only from Ireland (the wives of sweaters making visits to the Emerald Isle for the express purpose), but small armies of working tailors, ready to receive the lowest pittance, are continually being shipped into this country. That this is no exaggeration let the following statement prove:--

“I am a native of Pesth, having left Hungary about eight years ago. By the custom of the country I was compelled to travel three years in foreign parts, before I could settle in my native place. I went to Paris, after travelling about in the different countries of Germany. I stayed in Paris about two years. My father’s wish was that I should visit England, and I came to London in June, 1847. I first worked for a West end show shop--not directly for them--but through the person who is their middleman getting work done at what rates he could for the firm, and obtaining the prices they allowed for making the garments. I once worked four days and a half for him, finding my own trimmings, &c., for 9_s._ For this my employer would receive 12_s._ 6_d._ He then employed 190 hands; he has employed 300. Many of those so employed set their wives, children, and others to work, some employing as many as five hands this way. The middleman keeps his carriage, and will give fifty guineas for a horse. I became unable to work from a pain in my back, from long sitting at my occupation. The doctor told me not to sit much, and so, as a countryman of mine was doing the same, I employed hands, making the best I could of their labour. I have now four young women (all Irish girls) so employed. Last week one of them received 4_s._, another 4_s._ 2_d._, the other two 5_s._ each. They find their board and lodging, but I find them a place to work in, a small room, the rent of which I share with another tailor, who works on his own account. There are not so many Jews come over from Hungary or Germany as from Poland. The law of travelling three years brings over many, but not more than it did. The revolutions have brought numbers this year and last. They are Jew tailors flying from Russian and Prussian Poland to avoid the conscription. I never knew any of these Jews go back again. There is a constant communication among the Jews, and when their friends in Poland, and other places, learn they are safe in England, and in work and out of trouble, they come over too. I worked as a journeyman in Pesth, and got 2_s._ 6_d. a week, my board and washing, and lodging, for my labour._ We lived well, everything being so cheap. The Jews come in the greatest number about Easter. They try to work their way here, most of them. Some save money here, but they never go back; if they leave England it is to go to America.”

* * * * *

The labour market of a particular place, however, comes to be overstocked with hands, not only from the introduction of an inordinate number of apprentices and women and children into the trade, as well as the importation of workmen from abroad, but the same effect is produced by the migration of country labourers to towns. This, as I have before said, is specially the case in the printer’s and carpenter’s trades, where the cheap provincial work is executed chiefly by apprentices, who, when their time is up, flock to the principal towns, in the hopes of getting better wages than can be obtained in the country, owing to the prevalence of the apprentice system of work in those parts. The London carpenters suffer greatly from what are called “improvers,” who come up to town to get perfected in their art, and work for little or no wages. The work of some of the large houses is executed mainly in this way; that of Mr. Myers was, for instance, against whom the men lately struck.

But the unskilled labour of towns suffers far more than the skilled from the above cause.

The employment of unskilled labourers in towns is being constantly rendered more casual by the migrations from the country parts. The peasants, owing to the insufficiency of their wages, and the wretchedness of their dwellings and diet, in Wilts, Somerset, Dorset, and elsewhere, leave their native places without regret, and swell the sum of unskilled labour in towns. This is shown by the increase of population far beyond the excess of births over deaths in those counties where there are large manufacturing or commercial towns; whilst in purely agricultural counties the increase of population does not keep pace with the excess of births. “Thus in Lancashire,” writes Mr. Thornton, in his work on Over-Population, “the increase of the population in the ten years ending in 1841, was 330,210, and in Cheshire, 60,919; whilst the excess of births was only 150,150 in the former, and 28,000 in the latter. In particular towns the contrast is still more striking. In Liverpool and Bristol the annual deaths actually exceed the births, so that these towns are only saved from depopulation by their rural recruits, yet the first increased the number of its inhabitants in ten years by more than one-third, and the other by more than one-sixth. In Manchester, the annual excess of births could only have added 19,390 to the population between 1831 and 1841; the actual increase was 68,375. The number of emigrants (immigrants) into Birmingham, during the same period, may, in the same way, be estimated at 40,000; into Leeds, at 8000; into the metropolis, at 130,000. On the other hand, in Dorset, Somerset, and Devon, the actual addition to the population, in the same decennial period, was only 15,491, 31,802, and 39,253 respectively; although the excess of births over deaths in the same counties was about 20,000, 38,600, and 48,700.”

The unskilled labour market suffers, again, from the depression of almost any branch of skilled labour; for whatever branch of labour be depressed, and men so be deprived of a sufficiency of employment, one especial result ensues--the unskilled labour market is glutted. The skilled labourer, a tailor, for instance, may be driven to work for the wretched pittance of an East end slop-tailor, but he cannot “turn his hand” to any other description of skilled labour. He cannot say, “I will make billiard-tables, or book-cases, or boots, or razors;” so that there is no resource for him but in unskilled labour. The Spitalfields weavers have often sought dock labour; the turners of the same locality, whose bobbins were once in great demand by the silk-winders, and for the fringes of upholsterers, have done the same; and in this way the increase of casual labour increases the poverty of the poor, and so tends directly to the increase of pauperism.

* * * * *

We have now seen what a vast number of surplus labourers may be produced by an extension of time, rate, or mode of working, as well as by the increase of the hands, by other means than by the increase of the people themselves. If, however, we are increasing our workers at a greater rate than we are increasing the means of work, the excess of workmen must, of course, remain unemployed. But are we doing this?

Let us test the matter on the surest data. In the first instance let us estimate the increase of population, both according to the calculations of the late Mr. Rickman and the returns of the several censuses. The first census, I may observe, was taken in 1801, and has been regularly continued at intervals of ten years. The table first given refers to the population of England and Wales:--

INCREASE IN THE POPULATION OF ENGLAND AND WALES.

-------+-----------+---------+--------+---------+-------------------------- |Population,| |Increase| Annual | Years. |England and|Numerical| per |Increase | | Wales. |Increase.| Cent. |per cent.| -------+---------------------+--------+---------+ [43]1570| 4,038,879 | | | | 1600| 4,811,718 | 772,839| 19 | 0·6 | 1630| 5,601,517 | 789,799| 16 | 0·5 | 1670| 5,773,646 | 172,129| 3 | 0·08 |Increase per Cent. 1700| 6,045,008 | 271,362| 5 | 0·2 | in 50 Years, 1750| 6,517,035 | 472,027| 8 | 0·2 | from 1801 to 1851 = 101. [44]1801| 8,892,536 |2,375,501| 37 | 0·7 | 1811|10,164,068 |1,271,532| 14 | 1·4 |Annual average increase 1821|11,999,322 |1,835,250| 18 | 1·8 | per Cent., 1·41. 1831|13,896,797 |1,897,475| 16 | 1·6 | 1841|15,914,148 |1,982,489| 14 | 1·4 | 1851|17,922,768 |1,968,341| 13 | 1·3 | -------+-----------+---------+------------------+--------------------------

INCREASE IN THE POPULATION OF SCOTLAND.

-------+-----------+---------+---------+--------+----------------------- | | |Increase| Annual | Years.|Population,|Numerical| per |Increase | | Scotland. |Increase.| Cent. |per Cent.| -------+-----------+---------+--------+---------+ [45]1755| 1,265,380 | | | |Increase per Cent. [46]1801| 1,608,420 | 343,040 | 27 | 0·6 | in 50 years, from 1811| 1,805,864 | 197,444 | 12 | 1·3 | 1801 to 1851 = 78. 1821| 2,091,512 | 285,657 | 16 | 1·6 | 1831| 2,364,386 | 272,865 | 13 | 1·3 |Annual rate of Increase 1841| 2,620,184 | 255,798 | 11 | 1·1 | per Cent., 1·16. 1851| 2,870,784 | 245,237 | 10 | 1·0 | -------+-----------+---------+--------+---------+-----------------------

INCREASE IN THE POPULATION OF IRELAND.

--------+-----------+------------+---------+------------+------------------- | | Numerical |Increase |Annual rate | | | Increase | and |of Increase | | | and |Decrease |and Decrease| Years. |Population,| Decrease. |per Cent.| per Cent. | | Ireland. +------------+---------+------------+ | | † denotes Increase. | | | * „ Decrease. | --------+-----------+------------+---------+------------+ 1731[47]| 2,010,221 | | | | 1754[48]| 2,372,634 | †362,413 | †19 | |Total Decrease 1767 | 2,544,276 | †171,642 | †7 | | in 30 Years, from 1777 | 2,690,556 | †146,280 | †6 | | 1821 to 1851 = 1785 | 2,845,932 | †155,376 | †6 | | 4 per Cent. 1788 | 4,040,000 |†1,194,068 | †42 | | 1805[49]| 5,395,456 |†1,355,456 | †34 | |Annual rate of 1813[50]| 5,937,858 | †542,402 | †10 | | Decrease for 1821[51]| 6,801,827 | †863,969 | †15 | †1·4 | 30 Years, from 1831 | 7,767,401 | †965,574 | †14 | †1·3 | 1821 to 1851, 1841 | 8,175,124 | †407,723 | †5 | †·5 | ·1 per Cent. 1851 | 6,515,794 |*1,659,330 | *20 | *1·8 | --------+-----------+------------+---------+------------+-------------------

INCREASE IN THE POPULATION OF THE UNITED KINGDOM.

------+-----------+---------+---------+---------+------------------ | | |Decennial| Annual |Increase in 30 | |Numerical|Increase |Increase | years, from 1821 Years.|Population.|Increase.|per Cent.|per Cent.| to 1851 = 31 ------+-----------+---------+---------+---------+ per Cent. 1821 |20,892,670 | | | | 1831 |24,028,584 |3,135,914| 15 | 1·4 |Annual Rate of 1841 |26,709,456 |2,680,872| 11 | 1·1 | Increase ·9 1851 |27,309,346 | 599,890| 2 | 0·2 | per Cent. ------+-----------+---------+---------+---------+------------------

Discarding, then, all conjectural results, and adhering solely to the returns of the censuses, we find that, according to the official numberings of the people throughout the kingdom, the increased rate of population is, in round numbers, 10 per cent. every ten years; that is to say, where 100 persons were living in the United Kingdom in 1821, there are 130 living in the present year of 1851. The average increase in England and Wales for the last 50 years may, however, be said to be 1·5 per cent. per annum, the population having doubled itself during that period.

How, then, does this rate of increase among the people, and consequently the labourers and artizans of the country, correspond with the rate of increase in the production of commodities, or, in plain English, the means of employment? This is the main inquiry.

The only means of determining the total amount of commodities produced, and consequently the quantity of work done in the country, is from official returns, submitted to the Parliament and the public as part of the “revenue” of the kingdom. These afford a broad and accurate basis for the necessary statistics; and to get rid of any speculating or calculating on the subject, I will confine my notice to such commodities; giving, however, further information bearing on the subject, but still derived from official sources, so that there may be no doubt on the matter. The facts in connection with this part of the subject are exhibited in the table given in the next page.

The majority of the articles there specified supply the elements of trade and manufacture in furnishing the materials of our clothing, in all its appliances of decency, comfort, and luxury. The table relates, moreover, to our commerce with other countries--to the ships which find profitable employment, and give such employment to our people, in the aggregate commerce of the nation. Under almost every head, it will be seen, the increase in the means of labour has been more extensive than has the increase in the number of labourers; in some instances the difference is wide indeed.

The annual rate of increase among the population has been ·9 per cent. From 1801 to 1841 the population of the kingdom at the outside cannot be said to have doubled itself. Yet the productions in cotton goods were not less than ten times greater in 1851 than in 1801. The increase in the use of wool from 1821 to 1851 was more than sixfold; that of the population, I may repeat, not twofold. In twenty years (1831 to 1851) the hides were more than doubled in amount as a means of production; in fifty years the population has not increased to the same amount. Can any one, then, contend that the labouring population has extended itself at a greater rate than the means of labour, or that the vast mass of surplus labour throughout the country is owing to the working classes having increased more rapidly than the means of employing them?

TABLE SHOWING THE INCREASE IN THE PRODUCTIONS AND COMMERCE OF THE UNITED KINGDOM, FROM 1801-1850.

----------------------------------+----------+----------+-------------+-----------+----------+ | | | Increase | | | | | |and Decrease | |Increase | + denotes increase. | | |per Cent. | |per Cent. | * „ decrease. | 1801. | 1811. | from 1801 | 1821. |from 1811 | | | | to 1811. | |to 1821. | ----------------------------------+----------+----------+-------------+-----------+----------+ Soap in lbs. |55,500,000|80,000,000| + 44 | 97,000,000| + 21 | Cotton „ |56,000,000|92,000,000| + 64 |137,000,000| + 49 | Wool „ | | | | 10,000,000| | Silk „ | 1,000,000| 1,500,000| + 50 | 2,250,000| + 50 | Flax „ | | | | 55,000,000| | Hemp „ | | | | | | Hides „ | | | | | | Official Value of Exports[52] in £|24,500,000|21,750,000| * 11 | 40,250,000| + 85 | Official Value of Imports „| |25,500,000| | 29,750,000| + 17 | Tonnage of Vessels belonging | | | | | | to British Empire | | | | 2,560,203| | Tonnage of Vessels entering | | | | | | Ports | | | | 1,895,000| | ----------------------------------+----------+----------+-------------+-----------+----------+

+-----------+------------+------------+---------+------------+---------+---------+----------- | | Increase | | | | | | | |and Decrease| |Increase | |Increase | Total | Average | | per Cent. | |per Cent.| |per Cent.|Increase | Annual | 1831. | from 1812 | 1841. |from 1831| 1850. |from 1841|per Cent.| Increase | | to 1831. | |to 1841. | |to 1850. | | per Cent. +-----------+------------+------------+---------+-----------+----------+---------+----------- |127,500,000| + 31 |170,500,000 | + 34 |205,000,000 | 20 | 269 | 5·3 |273,000,009| + 99 |437,000,000 | + 60 |664,700,000 | 52 | 1087 | 21·7 | 30,000,000| + 200 | 53,000,000 | + 77 | 72,675,000 | 37 | 627 | 20·9 | 4,250,000| + 89 | 5,000,000 | + 18 | 7,159,000 | 43 | 616 | 12·3 |104,000,000| + 89 |151,000,000 | + 45 |204,000,000 | 35 | 271 | 9·0 | 56,500,000| | 73,000,000 | + 29 |117,447,000 | 61 | 108 | 5·4 | 26,000,000| | 51,000,000 | + 96 | 66,300,000 | 30 | 155 | 7·7 | 60,000,000| + 49 |101,750,000 | + 70 |197,309,000 | 94 | 705 | 14·1 | 48,250,000| + 62 | 62,750,000 | + 30 |100,460,000 | 60 | 294 | 7·3 | | | | | | | | | 2,581,964| + 1 | 3,512,480 | + 36 | 4,232,962 | 21 | 65 | 2·2 | | | | | | | | | 3,241,927| + 71 | 4,652,376 | + 44 | 7,110,476 | 53 | 274 | 9·1 +-----------+------------+------------+---------+------------+---------+---------+-----------

Thus, it is evident, that the means of labour have increased at a more rapid pace than the labouring population. But the increase in “property” of the country, in that which is sometimes called the “staple” property, being the assured possessions of the class of proprietors or capitalists, as well as in the profits, prove that, if the labourers of the country have been hungering for want of employment, at least the wealth of the nation has kept pace with the increase of the people, while the profits of trade have exceeded it.

AMOUNT OF THE PROPERTY AND INCOME OF GREAT BRITAIN.

Property assessed Annual Profits Year. to Property-tax. of Trade. 1815 £60,000,000 £37,000,000 1842 95,250,000 1844 ... 60,000,000 Increase 58 per cent. „ ... 62 per cent. Annual rate of increase 1·7 per cent. 1·7 per cent.

Here, then, we find, that the property assessed to the property tax has increased 35,250,000_l._ in 27 years, from 1815 to 1842, or upwards of 1,000,000_l._ sterling a year; this is at the rate of 1·7 per cent. every year, whereas the population of Great Britain has increased at the rate of only 1·4 per cent. per annum. But the amount of assessment under the property tax, it should be borne in mind, does not represent the full value of the possessions, so that among this class of proprietors there is far greater wealth than the returns show.

As regards the annual profits of trade, the increase between the years 1815 and 1844 has been 23,000,000_l._ in 29 years. This is at the rate of 1·7 per cent. per annum, and the annual increase in the population of Great Britain is only 1·4 per cent. But the amount of the profits of trade is unquestionably greater than appears in the financial tables of the revenue of the country; consequently there is a greater increase of wealth over population than the figures indicate.

The above returns show the following results:--

Increase per Cent. per Ann. Population of the United Kingdom ·9 Productions from 21 to 5 Exports 14 Imports 5 Shipping entering Ports 9 Property 1·7 Profits of trade 1·7

Far, very far indeed then, beyond the increase of the population, has been the increase of the wealth and work of the country.

And now, after this imposing array of wealth, let us contemplate the reverse of the picture: let us inquire if, while we have been increasing in riches and productions far more rapidly than we have been increasing in people and producers--let us inquire, I say, if we have been numerically increasing also in the sad long lists of paupers and criminals. Has our progress in poverty and crime been “pari passu,” or been more than commensurate in the rapidity of its strides?

TABLE SHOWING THE NUMBER OF PAUPERS IN ENGLAND AND WALES.[53]

------+-----------------+-------------------+---------------+------------- |Number of |Numerical Increase | | |Paupers relieved,| and Decrease. |Annual Increase|Increase per Years.| Quarters |+ denotes Increase.| and Decrease |Cent. from | ending Lady-day.|* „ Decrease.| per Cent. |1840 to 1848 ------+-----------------+-------------------+---------------+ = 56. 1840 | 1,199,529 | | | Annual 1841 | 1,299,048 | + 99,519 | + 8 | Increase, 1842 | 1,427,187 | + 128,139 | + 10 | 7 per Cent. 1843 | 1,539,490 | + 112,303 | + 8 | 1844 | 1,477,561 | + 938,071 | + 60 | 1845 | 1,470,970 | * 6,591 | * 0·4 | 1846 | 1,332,089 | * 38,881 | * 3 | 1847 | 1,721,350 | + 389,261 | + 29 | 1848 | 1,876,541 | + 155,191 | + 9 | ------+-----------------+-------------------+---------------+-----------

Here, then, we have an increase of 56 per cent. in less than ten years, though the increase of the population of England and Wales, in the same time, was but 13 per cent.; and let it be remembered that the increase of upwards of 650,000 paupers, in nine years, has accrued since the New Poor Law has been in what may be considered full working; a law which many were confident would result in a diminution of pauperism, and which certainly cannot be charged with offering the least encouragement to it. Still in nine years, our poverty increases while our wealth increases, and our paupers grow nearly four times as quick as our people, while the profits on trade nearly double themselves in little more than a quarter of a century.

We now come to the records of criminality:--

TABLE SHOWING THE INCREASE IN THE NUMBER OF CRIMINALS IN ENGLAND AND WALES FROM 1805-1850.

----+--------------+---------+---------+---------+---------+--------------- | Annual | | | |Increase | |Average Number| |Decennial| Annual |per Cent.| | of Criminals |Numerical|Increase |Increase | in the | | Committed. |Increase.|per Cent.|per Cent.|43 years.| ----+--------------+---------+---------+---------+---------+--------------- 1805| 4,605 | | | | |Annual Average 1811| 5,375 | 770 | 17 | 2·8 | | Increase 1821| 9,783 | 4408 | 82 | 8·2 | | per Cent., 1831| 15,318 | 5535 | 57 | 5·7 | 504 | 11·7. 1841| 22,305 | 6987 | 46 | 4·6 | | 1850| 27,814 | 5509 | 25 | 3·6 | | ----+--------------+---------+---------+---------+---------+---------------

From these results--and such figures are facts, and therefore stubborn things--the people cannot be said to have increased beyond the wealth or the means of employing them, for it is evident that we increase in poverty and crime as we increase in wealth, and in both far beyond our increase in numbers. The above are the bare facts of the country--it is for the reader to explain them as he pleases.

* * * * *

As yet we have dealt with those causes of casual labour only which may induce a surplusage of labourers without any decrease taking place in the quantity of work. We have seen, first, how the number of the unemployed may be increased either by altering the hours, rate, or mode of working, or else by changing the term of hiring, and this while the number of labourers remains the same; and, secondly, we have seen how the same results may ensue from increasing the number of labourers, while the conditions of working and hiring are unaltered. Under both these circumstances, however, the actual quantity of work to be done in the country has been supposed to undergo no change whatever; and at present we have to point out not only how the amount of surplus, and, consequently, of casual labour, in the kingdom, may be increased by a decrease of the work, but also how the work itself may be made to decrease. To know the causes of the one we must ascertain the antecedents of the other. What, then, are the circumstances inducing a decrease in the quantity of work? and, consequently, what the circumstances inducing an increase in the amount of surplus and casual labour?

In the first place we may induce a large amount of casual labour in particular districts, not by decreasing the gross quantity of work required by the country, but by merely shifting the work into new quarters, and so decreasing the quantity in the ordinary localities. “The west of England,” says Mr. Dodd, in his account of the textile manufactures of Great Britain, “was formerly, and continued to be till a comparatively recent period, the most important clothing district in England. The changes which the woollen manufacture, as respects both localization and mode of management, has been and is now undergoing, are very remarkable. Some years ago the ‘west of England cloths’ were the test of excellence in this manufacture; while the productions of Yorkshire were deemed of a coarser and cheaper character. At present, although the western counties have not deteriorated in their product, the West Riding of Yorkshire has made giant strides, by which equal skill in every department has been attained; while the commercial advantages resulting from coal-mines, from water-power, from canals and railroads, and from vicinage to the eastern port of Hull and the western port of Liverpool, give to the West Riding a power which Gloucestershire and Somersetshire cannot equal. The steam-engine, too, and various machines for facilitating some of the manufacturing processes, have been more readily introduced into the former than into the latter; a circumstance which, even without reference to other points of comparison, is sufficient to account for much of the recent advance in the north.”

Of late years the products of many of the west of England clothing districts have considerably declined. Shepton Mallet, Frome and Trowbridge, for instance, which were at one time the seats of a flourishing manufacture for cloth, have now but little employment for the workmen in those parts; and so with other towns. “At several places in Wiltshire, Somersetshire, and Gloucestershire, and others of the western counties,” says Mr. Thornton, “most of the cottagers, fifty years ago, were weavers, whose chief dependence was their looms, though they worked in the field at harvest time and other busy seasons. By so doing they kept down the wages of agricultural labourers, who had no other employment; and now that they have themselves become dependent upon agriculture, in consequence of the removal of the woollen manufacture from the cottage to the factory” [as well as to the north of England], “these reduced wages have become their own portion also;” or, in other words, since the shifting of the woollen manufacture in these parts, the quantity of casual labour in the cultivation of the land has been augmented.

The same effect takes place, of course, if the work be shifted to the Continent, instead of merely to another part of our own country. This has been the main cause of the misery of the straw-plaiters of Buckinghamshire and Bedfordshire. “During the last war,” says the author before quoted, “there were examples of women (the wives and children of labouring men) earning as much as 22_s._ a week. The profits of this employment have been so much reduced by the competition of Leghorn hats and bonnets, that a straw-plaiter cannot earn much more than 2_s._ 6_d._ in the week.”

But the work of particular localities may not only decrease, and the casual labour, in those parts, increase in the same proportion, by shifting it to other localities (either at home or abroad), even while the gross quantity of work required by the nation remains the same, but the quantity of work may be less than ordinary at a particular time, even while the same gross quantity annually required undergoes no change. This is the case in those periodical gluts which arise from over-production, in the cotton and other trades. The manufacturers, in such cases, have been increasing the supplies at a too rapid rate in proportion to the demand of the markets, so that, though there be no decrease in the requirements of the country, there ultimately accrues such a surplus of commodities beyond the wants and means of the people, that the manufacturers are compelled to stop producing until such time as the regular demand carries off the extra supply. And during all this time either the labourers have to work half-time at half-pay, or else they are thrown out of employment altogether.

Thus far we have proceeded in the assumption that the actual quantity of work required by the nation does not decrease in the aggregate, but only in particular places or at particular times, owing to a greater quantity than usual being done in other places or at other times[54]. We have still to consider what are the circumstances which tend to diminish the gross quantity of work required by the country. To understand these we must know the conditions on which all work depends; these are simply the conditions of demand and supply, and hence to know what it is that regulates the demand for commodities, and what it is that regulates the supply of them, is also to know what it is that regulates the quantity of work required by the nation.

Let me begin with the decrease of work arising from a decrease of the demand for certain commodities. This decrease of demand may proceed from one of three causes:--

1. An increase of cost. 2. A change of taste or fashion. 3. A change of circumstances.

The increase of cost may be brought about either by an increase in the expense of production or by a tax laid upon the article, as in the case of hair-powder, before quoted. Of the change of taste or fashion, as a means of decreasing the demand for a certain article of manufacture, and, consequently, of a particular form of labour, many instances have already been given; to these the following may be added:--“In Dorsetshire,” says Mr. Thornton, “the making of wire shirt-buttons (now in a great measure superseded by the use of mother-o’-pearl) once employed great numbers of women and children.” So it has been with the manufacture of metal coat-buttons; the change to silk has impoverished hundreds.

The decrease of work arising from a change of circumstances may be seen in the fluctuations of the iron trade; in the railway excitement the demand for labour in the iron districts was at least tenfold as great as it is at present, and so again with the demand for arms during war time; at such periods the quantity of work in that particular line at Birmingham is necessarily increased, while the contrary effects, of course, ensue immediately the requirements cease, and a large mass of surplus and casual hands is the result. It is the same with the soldiers themselves, as with the gun and sword makers; on the disbanding of certain portions of the army at the conclusion of a war, a vast amount of surplus labourers are poured into the country to compete with those already in work, and either to drag down their weekly earnings, or else, by obtaining casual employment in their stead, to reduce the gross quantity of work accruing to each, and so to render their incomes not only less in amount but less constant and regular. Within the last few weeks no less than 1000 policemen employed during the Exhibition have been discharged, of course with a like result to the labour market.

The circumstances tending to diminish the supply of certain commodities, are--

1. Want of capital. 2. Want of materials. 3. Want of labourers. 4. Want of opportunity.

The decrease of the quantity of capital in a trade may be brought about by several means: it may be produced by a want of security felt among the moneyed classes, as at the time of revolutions, political agitations, commercial depressions, or panics; or it may be produced by a deficiency of enterprise after the bursting of certain commercial “bubbles,” or the decline of particular manias for speculation, as on the cessation of the railway excitement; so, again, it may be brought about by a failure of the ordinary produce of the year, as with bad harvests.

The decrease of the quantity of materials, as tending to diminish the supply of certain commodities, may be seen in the failure of the cotton crops, which, of course, deprive the cotton manufacturers of their ordinary quantity of work. The same diminution in the ordinary supply of particular articles ensues when the men engaged in the production of them “strike” either for an advance of wages, or more generally to resist the attempt of some cutting employer to reduce their ordinary earnings; and lastly, a like decrease of work necessarily ensues when the opportunity of working is changed. Some kinds of work, as we have already seen, depend on the weather--on either the wind, rain, or temperature; while other kinds can only be pursued at certain seasons of the year, as brick-making, building, and the like; hence, on the cessation of the opportunities for working in these trades, there is necessarily a great decrease in the quantity of work, and consequently a large increase in the amount of surplus and therefore casual labour.

* * * * *

We have now, I believe, exhausted the several causes of that vast national evil--casual labour. We have seen that it depends,

First, upon certain times and seasons, fashions and accidents, which tend to cause a periodical briskness or slackness in different employments;

And secondly, upon the number of surplus labourers in the country.

The circumstances inducing surplus labour we have likewise ascertained to be three.

1. An alteration in the hours, rate, or mode of working, as well as in the mode of hiring.

2. An increase of the hands.

3. A decrease of the work, either in particular places, at particular times, or in the aggregate, owing to a decrease either in the demand or means of supply.

Any one of these causes, it has been demonstrated, must necessarily tend to induce an over supply of labourers and consequently a casualty of labour, for it has been pointed out that an over supply of labourers does not depend solely on an increase of the workers beyond the means of working, but that a decrease of the ordinary quantity of work, or a general increase of the hours or rate of working, or an extension of the system of production, or even a diminution of the term of hiring, will also be attended with the same result--facts which should be borne steadily in mind by all those who would understand the difficulties of the times, and which the “economists” invariably ignore.

On a careful revision of the whole of the circumstances before detailed, I am led to believe that there is considerable truth in the statement lately put forward by the working classes, that only one-third of the operatives of this country are fully employed, while another third are partially employed, and the remaining third wholly unemployed; that is to say, estimating the working classes as being between four and five millions in number, I think we may safely assert--considering how many depend for their employment on particular times, seasons, fashions, and accidents, and the vast quantity of over-work and scamp-work in nearly all the cheap trades of the present day, the number of women and children who are being continually drafted into the different handicrafts with the view of reducing the earnings of the men, the displacement of human labour in some cases by machinery, and the tendency to increase the division of labour, and to extend the large system of production beyond the requirements of the markets, as well as the temporary mode of hiring--all these things being considered, I say I believe we may safely conclude that, out of the four million five hundred thousand people who have to depend on their industry for the livelihood of themselves and families, there is (owing to the extraordinary means of economizing labour which have been developed of late years, and the discovery as to how to do the work of the nation with fewer people) barely sufficient work for the regular employment of half of our labourers, so that only 1,500,000 are fully and constantly employed, while 1,500,000 more are employed only half their time, and the remaining 1,500,000 wholly unemployed, obtaining a day’s work occasionally by the displacement of some of the others.

Adopt what explanation we will of this appalling deficiency of employment, one thing at least is certain: we cannot consistently with the facts of the country, ascribe it to an increase of the population beyond the means of labour; for we have seen that, while the people have increased during the last fifty years at the rate of ·9 per cent. per annum, the wealth and productions of the kingdom have far exceeded that amount.

OF THE CASUAL LABOURERS AMONG THE RUBBISH-CARTERS.

The casual labour of so large a body of men as the rubbish-carters is a question of high importance, for it affects the whole unskilled labour market. And this is one of the circumstances distinguishing unskilled from skilled labour. Unemployed cabinet-makers, for instance, do not apply for work to a tailor; so that, with skilled labourers, only one trade is affected in the slack season by the scarcity of employment among its operatives. With unskilled labourers it is otherwise. If in the course of next week 100 rubbish-carters were from any cause to be thrown out of employment, and found an impossibility to obtain work at rubbish-carting, there would be 100 fresh applicants for employment among the bricklayer’s-labourers, scavagers, nightmen, sewermen, dock-workers, lumpers, &c. Many of the 100 thus unemployed would, of course, be willing to work at reduced wages merely that they might subsist; and thus the hands employed by the regular and “honourable” part of those trades are exposed to the risk of being underworked, as regards wages, from the surplusage of labour in other unskilled occupations.

The employment of the rubbish-carters depends, in the first instance, upon the season. The services of the men are called into requisition when houses are being built or removed. In the one case, the rubbish-carters cart away the refuse earth; in the other they remove the old materials. The brisk season for the builders, and consequently for the rubbish-carters, is, as I heard several of them express it, “when days are long.” From about the middle of April to the middle of October is the brisk season of the rubbish-carters, for during those six months more buildings are erected than in the winter half of the year. There is an advantage in fine weather in the masonry becoming set; and efforts are generally made to complete at least the carcase of a house before the end of October, at the latest.

I am informed that the difference in the employment of labourers about buildings is 30 per cent.--one builder estimated it at 50 per cent.--less in winter than in summer, from the circumstance of fewer buildings being then in the course of erection. It may be thought that, as rubbish-carters are employed frequently on the foundation of buildings, their business would not be greatly affected by the season or the weather. But the work is often more difficult in wet weather, the ground being heavier, so that a smaller extent of work only can be accomplished, compared to what can be done in fine weather; and an employer may decline to pay six days’ wages for work in winter, which he might get done in five days in summer. If the men work by the piece or the load the result is the same; the rubbish-carter’s employer has a smaller return, for there is less work to be charged to the customer, while the cost in keeping the horses is the same.

Thus it appears that under the most favourable circumstances about one-fourth of the rubbish-carters, even in the honourable trade, may be exposed to the evils of non-employment merely from the state of the weather influencing, more or less, the custom of the trade, and this even during the six months’ employment out of the year; after which the men must find some other means of earning a livelihood.

There are, in round numbers, 850 operative rubbish-carters employed in the brisk season throughout the metropolis; hence 212 men, at this calculation, would be regularly deprived of work every year for six months out of the twelve. It will be seen, however, on reference to the table here given, that the average number of weeks each of the rubbish-carters is employed throughout the twelve months is far below 26; indeed many have but three and four weeks work out of the 52.

By an analysis of the returns I have collected on this subject I find the following to have been the actual term of employment for the several rubbish-carters in the course of last year:--

Employment in the Men. Year.

9 had 39 weeks, or 9 months. 214 „ 26 „ 6 „ 4 „ 20 „ 5 „ 10 „ 18 „ 28 „ 16 „ 4 „ 8 „ 14 „ 353 „ 13 „ 3 „ 4 „ 12 „ 34 „ 10 „ 29 „ 9 „ 38 „ 8 „ 2 „ 38 „ 6 „ 27 „ 5 „ 45 „ 4 „ 1 „ 15 „ 3 „ --- 856

Hence about one-fourth of the trade appear to have been employed for six months, while upwards of one-half had work for only three months or less throughout the year--many being at work only three days in the week during that time.

The rubbish-carter is exposed to another casualty over which he can no more exercise control than he can over the weather; I mean to what is generally called speculation, or a rage for building. This is evoked by the state of the money market, and other causes upon which I need not dilate; but the effect of it upon the labourers I am describing is this: capitalists may in one year embark sufficient means in building speculations to erect, say 500 new houses, in any particular district. In the following year they may not erect more than 200 (if any), and thus, as there is the same extent of unskilled labour in the market, the number of hands required is, if the trade be generally less speculative, less in one year than in its predecessor by the number of rubbish-carters required to work at the foundations of 300 houses. Such a cause may be exceptional; but during the last ten years the inhabited houses in the five districts of the Registrar-General have increased to the extent of 45,000, or from 262,737 in 1841, to 307,722 in 1851. It appears, then, that the annual increase of our metropolitan houses, concluding that they increase in a regular yearly ratio, is 4500. Last year, however, as I am informed by an experienced builder, there were rather fewer buildings erected (he spoke only from his own observations and personal knowledge of the business) than the yearly average of the decennial term.

The casual and constant wages of the rubbish-carters may be thus detailed. The whole system of the labour, I may again state, must be regarded as casual, or--as the word imports in its derivation from the Latin casus, a chance--the labour of men who are occasionally employed. Some of the most respectable and industrious rubbish-carters with whom I met, told me they generally might make up their minds, though they might have excellent masters, to be six months of the year unemployed at rubbish-carting; this, too, is less than the average of this chance employment.

Calculating, then, the rubbish-carter’s receipt of nominal wages at 18_s._, and his actual wages at 20_s._ in the honourable trade, I find the following amount to be paid.

By nominal wages, I have before explained, I mean what a man is said to receive, or has been promised that he shall be paid weekly. Actual wages, on the other hand, are what a man positively receives, there being sometimes additions in the form of perquisites or allowances; sometimes deductions in the way of fines and stoppages; the additions in the rubbish-carting trade appear to average about 2_s._ a week. But these actual wages are received only so long as the men are employed, that is to say, they are the casual rather than the constant earnings of the men working at a trade, which is essentially of an occasional or temporary character; the average employment at rubbish-carting being only three months in the year.

Let us see, therefore, what would be the constant earnings or income of the men working at the better-paid portion of the trade.

£ s. d. The gross actual wages of ten rubbish-carters, casually employed for 39 weeks, at 20_s._ per week, amount to 390 0 0

The gross actual wages of 250 rubbish-carters, casually employed for 26 weeks, at 20_s._ per week 6500 0 0

The gross actual wages of 360 rubbish-carters, casually employed for 13 weeks, at 20_s._ per week 4600 0 0 ------------ Total gross actual wages of 620 of the better-paid rubbish-carters 11,490 0 0

But this, as I said before, represents only the casual wages of the better-paid operatives--that is to say, it shows the amount of money or money’s worth that is positively received by the men while they are in employment. To understand what are the constant wages of these men, we must divide their gross casual earnings by 52, the number of weeks in the year: thus we find that the constant wages of the ten men who were employed for 39 weeks, were 15_s._ instead of 20_s._ per week--that is to say, their wages, equally divided throughout the year, would have yielded that constant weekly income. By the same reasoning, the 20_s._ per week casual wages of the 250 men employed for 26 weeks out of the 52, were equal to only 10_s._ constant weekly wages; and so the 360 men, who had 20_s._ per week casually for only three months in the year, had but 5_s._ a week constantly throughout the whole year. Hence we see the enormous difference there may be between a man’s casual and his constant earnings at a given trade.

The next question that forces itself on the mind is, how do the rubbish-carters live when no longer employed at this kind of work?

When the slack season among rubbish-carters commences, nearly one-fifth of the operatives are discharged. These take to scavaging or dustman’s work, as well as that of navigators, or, indeed, any form of unskilled labour, some obtaining full employ, but the greater part being able to “get a job only now and then.” Those masters who keep their men on throughout the year are some of them large dust contractors, some carmen, some dairymen, and (in one or two instances in the suburbs, as at Hackney) small farmers. The dust-contractors and carmen, who are by far the more numerous, find employment for the men employed by them as rubbish-carters in the season, either at the dust-yard or carrying sand, or, indeed, carting any materials they may have to move--the wages to the men remaining the same; indeed such is the transient character of the rubbish-carting trade, that there are no masters or operatives who devote themselves solely to the business.

THE EFFECTS OF CASUAL LABOUR IN GENERAL.

Having now pointed out the causes of casual labour, I proceed to set forth its effects.

All casual labour, as I have said, is necessarily uncertain labour; and wherever uncertainty exists, there can be no foresight or pro-vidence. Had the succession of events in nature been irregular,--had it been ordained by the Creator that similar causes under similar circumstances should not be attended with similar effects,--it would have been impossible for us to have had any knowledge of the future, or to have made any preparations concerning it. Had the seasons followed each other fitfully,--had the sequences in the external world been variable instead of invariable, and what are now termed “constants” from the regularity of their succession been changed into inconstants,--what provision could even the most prudent of us have made? Where all was dark and unstable, we could only have guessed instead of reasoned as to what was to come; and who would have deprived himself of present enjoyments to avoid future privations, which could appear neither probable nor even possible to him? Pro-vidence, therefore, is simply the result of certainty, and whatever tends to increase our faith in the uniform sequences of outward events, as well as our reliance on the means we have of avoiding the evils connected with them, necessarily tends to make us more prudent. Where the means of sustenance and comfort are fixed, the human being becomes conscious of what he has to depend upon; and if he feel assured that such means may fail him in old age or in sickness, and be fully impressed with the certainty of suffering from either, he will immediately proceed to make some provision against the time of adversity or infirmity. If, however, his means be uncertain--abundant at one time, and deficient at another--a spirit of speculation or gambling with the future will be induced, and the individual get to believe in “luck” and “fate” as the arbiters of his happiness rather than to look upon himself as “the architect of his fortunes”--trusting to “chance” rather than his own powers and foresight to relieve him at the hour of necessity. The same result will necessarily ensue if, from defective reasoning powers, the ordinary course of nature be not sufficiently apparent to him, or if, being in good health, he grow too confident upon its continuance, and, either from this or other causes, is led to believe that death will overtake him before his powers of self-support decay.

The ordinary effects of uncertain labour, then, are to drive the labourers to improvidence, recklessness, and pauperism.

Even in the classes which we do not rank among labourers, as, for instance, authors, artists, musicians, actors, uncertainty or irregularity of employment and remuneration produces a spirit of wastefulness and carelessness. The steady and daily accruing gains of trade and of some of the professions form a certain and staple income; while in other professions, where a large sum may be realized at one time, and then no money be earned until after an interval, incomings are rapidly spent, and the interval is one of suffering. This is part of the very nature, the very essence, of the casualty of employment and the delay of remuneration. The past privation gives a zest to the present enjoyment; while the present enjoyment renders the past privation faint as a remembrance and unimpressive as a warning. “Want of providence,” writes Mr. Porter, “on the part of those who live by the labour of their hands, and whose employments so often depend upon circumstances beyond their control, is a theme which is constantly brought forward by many whose lot in life has been cast beyond the reach of want. It is, indeed, greatly to be wished, for their own sakes, that the habit were general among the labouring classes of saving some part of their wages when fully employed, against less prosperous times; but it is difficult for those who are placed in circumstances of ease to estimate the amount of virtue that is implied in this self-denial. It must be a hard trial for one who has recently, perhaps, seen his family enduring want, to deny them the small amount of indulgences, which are, at the best of times, placed within their reach.”

It is easy enough for men in smooth circumstances to say, “the privation is a man’s own fault, since, to avoid it, he has but to apportion the sum he may receive in a lump over the interval of non-recompense which he knows will follow.” Such a course as this, experience and human nature have shown not to be easy--perhaps, with a few exceptions, not to be possible. It is the starving and not the well-fed man that is in danger of surfeiting himself. When pestilence or revolution are rendering life and property casualties in a country, the same spirit of improvident recklessness breaks forth. In London, on the last visitation of the plague, in the reign of Charles II., a sort of Plague Club indulged in the wildest excesses in the very heart of the pestilence. To these orgies no one was admitted who had not been bereft of some relative by the pest. In Paris, during the reign of terror in the first revolution, the famous Guillotine Club was composed of none but those who had lost some near relative by the guillotine. When they met for their half-frantic revels every one wore some symbol of death: breast pins in the form of guillotines, rings with death’s-heads, and such like. The duration of their own lives these Guillotine Clubbists knew to be uncertain, not merely in the ordinary uncertainty of nature, but from the character of the times; and this feeling of the jeopardy of existence, from the practice of violence and bloodshed, wrought the effects I have described. Life was more than naturally casual. When the famine was at the worst in Ireland, it was remarked in the Cork Examiner, that in that city there never had been seen more street “larking” or street gambling among the poor lads and young men who were really starving. This was a natural result of the casualty of labour and the consequent casualty of food. Persons, it should be remembered, do not insure houses or shops that are “doubly or trebly hazardous;” they gamble on the uncertainty.

Mr. Porter, in his “Progress of the Nation,” cites a fact bearing immediately upon the present subject.

“The formation of a canal, which has been in progress during the last five years, in the north of Ireland (this was written in 1847), has afforded steady employment to a portion of the peasantry, who before that time were suffering all the evils, so common in that country, which result from the precariousness of employment. Such work as they could previously get came at uncertain intervals, and was sought by so many competitors, that the remuneration was of the scantiest amount. In this condition of things the men were improvident, to recklessness; their wages, insufficient for the comfortable sustenance of their families, were wasted in procuring for themselves a temporary forgetfulness of their misery at the whiskey-shop, and the men appeared to be sunk into a state of hopeless degradation. From the moment, however, that work was offered to them which was constant in its nature and certain in its duration, and on which their weekly earnings would be sufficient to provide for their comfortable support, men who had been idle and dissolute were converted into sober hard-working labourers, and proved themselves kind and careful husbands and fathers; and it is stated as a fact, that, notwithstanding the distribution of several hundred pounds weekly in wages, the whole of which must be considered as so much additional money placed in their hands, the consumption of whiskey was absolutely and permanently diminished in the district. During the comparatively short period in which the construction of this canal was in progress, some of the most careful labourers--men who most probably before then never knew what it was to possess five shillings at any one time--saved sufficient money to enable them to emigrate to Canada.”

There can hardly be a stronger illustration of the blessing of constant and the curse of casual labour. We have competence and frugality as the results of one system; poverty and extravagance as the results of the other; and among the very same individuals.

In the evidence given by Mr. Galloway, the engineer, before a parliamentary committee, he remarks, that “when employers are competent to show their men that their business is steady and certain, and when men find that they are likely to have permanent employment, they have always better habits and more settled notions, which will make them better men and better workmen, and will produce great benefits to all who are interested in their employment.”

Moreover, even if payment be assured to a working man regularly, but deferred for long intervals, so as to make the returns lose all appearance of regularity, he will rarely be found able to resist the temptation of a tavern, and, perhaps, a long-continued carouse, or of some other extravagance to his taste, when he receives a month’s dues at once. I give an instance of this in the following statement:--

For some years after the peace of 1815 the staffs of the militias were kept up, but not in any active service. During the war the militias performed what are now the functions of the regular troops in the three kingdoms, their stations being changed more frequently than those of any of the regular regiments at the present day. Indeed, they only differed from the “regulars” in name. There was the same military discipline, and the sole difference was, that the militia-men--who were balloted for periodically--could not, by the laws regulating their embodiment, be sent out of the United Kingdom for purposes of warfare. The militias were embodied for twenty-eight days’ training, once in four years (seldom less) after the peace, and the staff acted as the drill sergeants. They were usually steady, orderly men, working at their respective crafts when not on duty after the militia’s disembodiment, and some who had not been brought up to any handicraft turned out--perhaps from their military habits of early rising and orderliness--very good gardeners, both on their own account and as assistants in gentlemen’s grounds. No few of them saved money. Yet these men, with very few exceptions, when they received a month’s pay, fooled away a part of it in tippling and idleness, to which they were not at all addicted when attending regularly to their work with its regular returns. If they got into any trouble in consequence of their carousing, it was looked upon as a sort of legitimate excuse, “Why you see, sir, it was the 24th” (the 24th of each month being the pension day).

The thoughtless extravagance of sailors when, on their return to port, they receive in one sum the wages they have earned by severe toil amidst storms and dangers during a long voyage, I need not speak of; it is a thing well known.

These soldiers and seamen cannot be said to have been casually employed, but the results were the same as if they had been so employed; the money came to them in a lump at so long an interval as to appear uncertain, and was consequently squandered.

I may cite the following example as to the effects of uncertain earnings upon the household outlay of labourers who suffer from the casualties of employment induced by the season of the year. “In the long fine days of summer, the little daughter of a working brickmaker,” I was told, “used to order chops and other choice dainties of a butcher, saying, ‘Please, sir, father don’t care for the price just a-now; but he must have his chops good; line-chops, sir, and tender, please--’cause he’s a brickmaker.’ In the winter, it was, ‘O please, sir, here’s a fourpenny bit, and you must send father something cheap. He don’t care what it is, so long as it’s cheap. It’s winter, and he hasn’t no work, sir--’cause he’s a brickmaker.’”

I have spoken of the tendency of casual labour to induce intemperate habits. In confirmation of this I am enabled to give the following account as to the increase of the sale of malt liquor in the metropolis consequent upon wet weather. The account is derived from the personal observations of a gentleman long familiar with the brewing trade, in connection with one of the largest houses. In short, I may state that the account is given on the very best authority.

There are nine large brewers in London; of these the two firms transacting the greatest extent of business supply, daily, 1000 barrels each firm to their customers; the seven others, among them, dispose, altogether, of 3000 barrels daily. All these 5000 barrels a day are solely for town consumption; and this may be said to be the average supply the year through, but the public-house sale is far from regular.

After a wet day the sale of malt liquor, principally beer (porter), to the metropolitan retailers is from 500 to 1000 barrels more than when a wet day has not occurred; that is to say, the supply increases from 5000 barrels to 5500 and 6000. Such of the publicans as keep small stocks go the next day to their brewers to order a further supply; those who have better-furnished cellars may not go for two or three days after, but the result is the same.

The reason for this increased consumption is obvious; when the weather prevents workmen from prosecuting their respective callings in the open air, they have recourse to drinking, to pass away the idle time. Any one who has made himself familiar with the habits of the working classes has often found them crowding a public-house during a hard rain, especially in the neighbourhood of new buildings, or any public open-air work. The street-sellers, themselves prevented from plying their trades outside, are busy in such times in the “publics,” offering for sale braces, belts, hose, tobacco-boxes, nuts of different kinds, apples, &c. A bargain may then be struck for so much and a half-pint of beer, and so the consumption is augmented by the trade in other matters.

Now, taking 750 barrels as the average of the extra sale of beer in consequence of wet weather, we have a consumption beyond the demands of the ordinary trade in malt liquor of 27,000 gallons, or 216,000 pints. This, at 2_d._ a pint, is 3000_l._ for a day’s needless, and often prejudicial, outlay caused by the casualty of the weather and the consequent casualty of labour. A censor of morals might say that these men should go home under such circumstances; but their homes may be at a distance, and may present no great attractions; the single men among them may have no homes, merely sleeping-places; and even the more prudent may think it advisable to wait awhile under shelter in hopes of the weather improving, so that they could resume their labour, and only an hour or so be deducted from their wages. Besides, there is the attraction to the labourer of the warmth, discussion, freedom, and excitement of the public-house.

That the great bulk of the consumers of this additional beer are of the classes I have mentioned is, I think, plain enough, from the increase being experienced only in that beverage, the consumption of gin being little affected by the same means. Indeed, the statistics showing the ratio of beer and gin-drinking are curious enough (were this the place to enter into them), the most gin, as a general rule, being consumed in the most depressed years.

“It is a fact worth notice,” said a statistical journal, entitled “Facts and Figures,” published in 1841, “as illustrative of the tendency of the times of pressure to increase spirit drinking, that whilst under the privations of last year (1840) the poorer classes paid 2,628,286_l._ tax for spirits; in 1836, a year of the greatest prosperity, the tax on British spirits amounted only to 2,390,188_l._ So true is it that to impoverish is to demoralise.”

The numbers who imbibe, in the course of a wet day, these 750 barrels, cannot, of course, be ascertained, but the following calculations may be presented. The class of men I have described rarely have spare money, but if known to a landlord, they probably may obtain credit until the Saturday night. Now, putting their extra beer-drinking on wet days--for on fine days there is generally a pint or more consumed daily per working man--putting, I say, the extra potations at a pot (quart) each man, we find one hundred and eight thousand consumers (out of 2,000,000 people, or, discarding the women and children, not 1,000,000)! A number doubling, and trebling, and quadrupling the male adult population of many a splendid continental city.

Of the data I have given, I may repeat, no doubt can be entertained; nor, as it seems to me, can any doubt be entertained that the increased consumption is directly attributable to the casualty of labour[55].

OF THE SCURF TRADE AMONG THE RUBBISH-CARTERS.

Before proceeding to treat of the cheap or “scurf” labourers among the rubbish-carters, I shall do as I have done in connection with the casual labourers of the same trade, say a few words on that kind of labour in general, both as to the means by which it is usually obtained and as to the distinctive qualities of the scurf or low-priced labourers; for experience teaches me that the mode by which labour is cheapened is more or less similar in all trades, and it will therefore save much time and space if I here--as with the casual labourers--give the general facts in connection with this part of my subject.

In the first place, then, there are but two direct modes of cheapening labour, viz.:--

1. By making the workmen do more work for the same pay.

2. By making them do the same work for less pay.

The first of these modes is what is technically termed “driving,” especially when effected by compulsory “overwork;” and it is called the “economy of labour” when brought about by more elaborate and refined processes, such as the division of labour, the large system of production, the invention of machinery, and the temporary, as contradistinguished from the permanent, mode of hiring.

Each of these modes of making workmen do more work for the same pay, can but have the same depressing effect on the labour market, for not only is the rate of remuneration (or ratio of the work to the pay) reduced when the operative is made to do a greater quantity of work for the same amount of money, but, unless the means of disposing of the extra products be proportionately increased, it is evident that just as many workmen must be displaced thereby as the increased term or rate of working exceeds the extension of the markets; that is to say, if 4000 workpeople be made to produce each twice as much as formerly (either by extending the hours of labour or increasing their rate of labouring), then if the markets or means of disposing of the extra products be increased only one-half, 1000 hands must, according to Cocker, be deprived of their ordinary employment; and these competing with those who are in work will immediately tend to reduce the wages of the trade generally, so that not only will the rate of wages be decreased, since each will have more work to do, but the actual earnings of the workmen will be diminished likewise.

Of the economy of labour itself, as a means of cheapening work, there is no necessity for me to speak here. It is, indeed, generally admitted, that to economize labour without proportionally extending the markets for the products of such labour, is to deprive a certain number of workmen of their ordinary means of living; and under the head of casual labour so many instances have been given of this principle that it would be wearisome to the reader were I to do other than allude to the matter at present. There are, however, several other means of causing a workman to do more than his ordinary quantity of work. These are:--

1. By extra supervision when the workmen are paid by the day. Of this mode of increased production an instance has already been cited in the account of the strapping-shops given at p. 304, vol. ii.

2. By increasing the workman’s interest in his work; as in piece-work, where the payment of the operative is made proportional to the quantity of work done by him. Of this mode examples have already been given at p. 303, vol. ii.

3. By large quantities of work given out at one time; as in “lump-work” and “contract work.”

4. By the domestic system of work, or giving out materials to be made up at the homes of the workpeople.

5. By the middleman system of labour.

6. By the prevalence of small masters.

7. By a reduced rate of pay, as forcing operatives to labour both longer and quicker, in order to make up the same amount of income.

Of several of these modes of work I have already spoken, citing facts as to their pernicious influence upon the greater portion of those trades where they are found to prevail. I have already shown how, by extra supervision--by increased interest in the work--as well as by decreased pay, operatives can be made to do more work than they otherwise would, and so be the cause, unless the market be proportionately extended, of depriving some of their fellow-labourers of their fair share of employment. It now only remains for me to set forth the effect of those modes of employment which have not yet been described, viz., the domestic system, the middleman system, and the contract and lump system, as well as the small-master system of work.

Let me begin with the first of the last-mentioned modes of cheapening labour, viz., the domestic system of work.

I find, by investigation, that in trades where the system of working on the master’s premises has been departed from, and a man is allowed to take his work home, there is invariably a tendency to cheapen labour. These home workers, whenever opportunity offers, will use other men’s ill-paid labour, or else employ the members of their family to enhance their own profits.

The domestic system, moreover, naturally induces over-work and Sunday-work, as well as tends to change journeymen into trading operatives, living on the labour of their fellow-workmen. When the work is executed off the master’s premises, of course there are neither definite hours nor days for labour; and the consequence is, the generality of home workers labour early and late, Sundays as well as week-days, availing themselves at the same time of the co-operation of their wives and children; thus the trade becomes overstocked with workpeople by the introduction of a vast number of new hands into it, as well as by the overwork of the men themselves who thus obtain employment. When I was among the tailors, I received from a journeyman to whom I was referred by the Trades’ Society as the one best able to explain the causes of the decline of that trade, the following lucid account of the evils of this system of labour:--

“The principal cause of the decline of our trade is the employment given to workmen at their own homes, or, in other words, to the ‘sweaters.’ The sweater is the greatest evil in the trade; as the sweating system increases the number of hands to an almost incredible extent--wives, sons, daughters, and extra women, all working ‘long days’--that is, labouring from sixteen to eighteen hours per day, and Sundays as well. By this system two men obtain as much work as would give employment to three or four men working regular hours in the shop. Consequently, the sweater being enabled to get the work done by women and children at a lower price than the regular workman, obtains the greater part of the garments to be made, while men who depend upon the shop for their living are obliged to walk about idle. A greater quantity of work is done under the sweating system at a lower price. I consider that the decline of my trade dates from the change of day-work into piece-work. According to the old system, the journeyman was paid by the day, and consequently must have done his work under the eye of his employer. It is true that work was given out by the master before the change from day-work to piece-work was regularly acknowledged in the trade. But still it was morally impossible for work to be given out and not be paid by the piece. Hence I date the decrease in the wages of the workman from the introduction of piece-work, and giving out garments to be made off the premises of the master. The effect of this was, that the workman making the garment, knowing that the master could not tell whom he got to do his work for him, employed women and children to help him, and paid them little or nothing for their labour. This was the beginning of the sweating system. The workmen gradually became transformed from journeymen into ‘middlemen,’ living by the labour of others. Employers soon began to find that they could get garments made at a less sum than the regular price, and those tradesmen who were anxious to force their trade, by underselling their more honourable neighbours, readily availed themselves of this means of obtaining cheap labour.”

* * * * *

The middleman system of work is so much akin to the domestic system, of which, indeed, it is but a necessary result, that it forms a natural addendum to the above. Of this indirect mode of employing workmen, I said, in the Chronicle, when treating of the timber-porters at the docks:--

“The middleman system is the one crying evil of the day. Whether he goes by the name of ‘sweater,’ ‘chamber-master,’ ‘lumper,’ or contractor, it is this trading operative who is the great means of reducing the wages of his fellow working-men. To make a profit out of the employment of his brother operatives he must, of course, obtain a lower class and, consequently, cheaper labour. Hence it becomes a business with him to hunt out the lowest grades of working men--that is to say, those who are either morally or intellectually inferior in the craft--the drunken, the dishonest, the idle, the vagabond, and the unskilful; these are the instruments that he seeks for, because, these being unable to obtain employment at the regular wages of the sober, honest, industrious, and skilful portion of the trade, he can obtain their labour at a lower rate than what is usually paid. Hence drunkards, tramps, men without character or station, apprentices, children--all suit him. Indeed, the more degraded the labourers, the better they answer his purpose, for the cheaper he can get their work, and consequently the more he can make out of it.

“‘Boy labour or thief labour,’ said a middleman, on a large scale, to me, ‘what do I care, so long as I can get my work done cheap?’ That this seeking out of cheap and inferior labour really takes place, and is a necessary consequence of the middleman system, we have merely to look into the condition of any trade where it is extensively pursued. I have shown, in my account of the tailors’ trade printed in the Chronicle, that the wives of the sweaters not only parade the streets of London on the look-out for youths raw from the country, but that they make periodical trips to the poorest provinces of Ireland, in order to obtain workmen at the lowest possible rate. I have shown, moreover, that foreigners are annually imported from the Continent for the same purpose, and that among the chamber-masters in the shoe trade, the child-market at Bethnal-green, as well as the workhouses, are continually ransacked for the means of obtaining a cheaper kind of labour. All my investigations go to prove, that it is chiefly by means of this middleman system that the wages of the working men are reduced. It is this contractor--this trading operative--who is invariably the prime mover in the reduction of the wages of his fellow-workmen. He uses the most degraded of the class as a means of underselling the worthy and skilful labourers, and of ultimately dragging the better down to the abasement of the worst. He cares not whether the trade to which he belongs is already overstocked with hands, for, be those hands as many as they may, and the ordinary wages of his craft down to bare subsistence point, it matters not a jot to him; he can live solely by reducing them still lower, and so he immediately sets about drafting or importing a fresh and cheaper stock into the trade. If men cannot subsist on lower prices, then he takes apprentices, or hires children; if women of chastity cannot afford to labour at the price he gives, then he has recourse to prostitutes; or if workmen of character and worth refuse to work at less than the ordinary rate, then he seeks out the moral refuse of the trade--those whom none else will employ; or else he flies, to find labour meet for his purpose, to the workhouse and the gaol. Backed by this cheap and refuse labour, he offers his work at lower prices, and so keeps on reducing and reducing the wages of his brethren, until all sink in poverty, wretchedness, and vice. Go where we will, look into whatever poorly-paid craft we please, we shall find this trading operative, this middleman or contractor, at the bottom of the degradation.”

The “contract system” or “lump work,” as it is called, is but a corollary, as it were, of the foregoing; for it is an essential part of the middleman system, that the work should be obtained by the trading operative in large quantities, so that those upon whose labour he lives should be kept continually occupied, and the more, of course, that he can obtain work for, the greater his profit. When a quantity of work, usually paid for by the piece, is given out at one time, the natural tendency is for the piece-work to pass into lump-work; that is to say, if there be in a trade a number of distinct parts, each requiring, perhaps, from the division of labour, a distinct hand for the execution of it, or if each of these parts bear a different price, it is frequently the case that the master will contract with some one workman for the execution of the whole, agreeing to give a certain price for the job “in the lump,” and allowing the workman to get whom he pleases to execute it. This is the case with the piece-working masters in the coach-building trade; but it is not essential to the contract or lump system of work, that other hands should be employed; the main distinction between it and piece-work being that the work is given out in large quantities, and a certain allowance or reduction of price effected from that cause alone.

It is this contract or lump work which constitutes the great evil of the carpenter’s, as well as of many other trades; and as in those crafts, so in this, we find that the lower the wages are reduced the greater becomes the number of trading operatives or middlemen. For it is when workmen find the difficulty of living by their labour increased that they take to scheming and trading upon the labour of their fellows. In the slop trade, where the pay is the worst, these creatures abound the most; and so in the carpenter’s trade, where the wages are the lowest--as among the speculative builders--there the system of contracting and sub-contracting is found in full force.

Of this contract or lump work, I received the following account from the foreman to a large speculating builder, when I was inquiring into the condition of the London carpenters:--

“The way in which the work is done is mostly by letting and subletting. The masters usually prefer to let work, because it takes all the trouble off their hands. They know what they are to get for the job, and of course they let it as much under that figure as they possibly can, all of which is clear gain without the least trouble. How the work is done, or by whom, it’s no matter to them, so long as they can make what they want out of the job, and have no bother about it. Some of our largest builders are taking to this plan, and a party who used to have one of the largest shops in London has within the last three years discharged all the men in his employ (he had 200 at least), and has now merely an office, and none but clerks and accountants in his pay. He has taken to letting his work out instead of doing it at home. The parties to whom the work is let by the speculating builders are generally working men, and these men in their turn look out for other working men, who will take the job cheaper than they will; and so I leave you, sir, and the public to judge what the party who really executes the work gets for his labour, and what is the quality of work that he is likely to put into it. The speculating builder generally employs an overlooker to see that the work is done sufficiently well to pass the surveyor. That’s all he cares about. Whether it’s done by thieves, or drunkards, or boys, it’s no matter to him. The overlooker, of course, sees after the first party to whom the work is let, and this party in his turn looks after the several hands that he has sublet it to. The first man who agrees to the job takes it in the lump, and he again lets it to others in the piece. I have known instances of its having been let again a third time, but this is not usual. The party who takes the job in the lump from the speculator usually employs a foreman, whose duty it is to give out the materials and to make working drawings. The men to whom it is sublet only find labour, while the ‘lumper,’ or first contractor, agrees for both labour and materials. It is usual in contract work, for the first party who takes the job to be bound in a large sum for the due and faithful performance of his contract. He then, in his turn, finds out a sub-contractor, who is mostly a small builder, who will also bind himself that the work shall be properly executed, and there the binding ceases--those parties to whom the job is afterwards let, or sublet, employing foremen or overlookers to see that their contract is carried out. The first contractor has scarcely any trouble whatsoever; he merely engages a gentleman, who rides about in a gig, to see that what is done is likely to pass muster. The sub-contractor has a little more trouble; and so it goes on as it gets down and down. Of course I need not tell you that the first contractor, who does the least of all, gets the most of all; while the poor wretch of a working man, who positively executes the job, is obliged to slave away every hour, night after night, to get a bare living out of it; and this is the contract system.”

A tradesman, or a speculator, will contract, for a certain sum, to complete the skeleton of a house, and render it fit for habitation. He will sublet the flooring to some working joiner, who will, in very many cases, take it on such terms as to allow himself, by working early and late, the regular journeymen’s wages of 30_s._ a week, or perhaps rather more. Now this sub-contractor cannot complete the work within the requisite time by his own unaided industry, and he employs men to assist him, often subletting again, and such assistant men will earn perhaps but 4_s._ a day. It is the same with the doors, the staircases, the balustrades, the window-frames, the room-skirtings, the closets; in short, all parts of the building.

The subletting is accomplished without difficulty. Old men are sometimes employed in such work, and will be glad of any remuneration to escape the workhouse; while stronger workmen are usually sanguine that by extra exertion, “though the figure is low, they may make a tidy thing out of it after all.” In this way labour is cheapened. “Lump” work, “piece” work, work by “the job,” are all portions of the contract system. The principle is the same. “Here is this work to be done, what will you undertake to do it for?”

In number after number of the Builder will be found statements headed “Blind Builders.” One firm, responding to an advertisement for “estimates” of the building of a church, sends in an offer to execute the work in the best style for 5000_l._ Another firm may offer to do it for somewhere about 3000_l._ The first-mentioned firm would do the work well, paying the “honourable” rate of wages. The under-working firm must resort to the scamping and subletting system I have alluded to. It appears that the building of churches and chapels, of all denominations, is one of the greatest encouragement to slop, or scamp, or under-paid work. The same system prevails in many trades with equally pernicious effects.

* * * * *

“If you will allow me,” says a correspondent, “I would state that there is one cause of hardship and suffering to the labouring or handicraftsman, which, to my mind, is far more productive of distress and poor-grinding than any other, or than all other causes put together: I allude to the contract system, and especially in reference to printing. Depend upon it, sir, the father of wickedness himself could not devise a more malevolent or dishonest course than that now very generally pursued by those who should be, of all others, the friends of the poor and working man. The Government and the great West-end clubs have reduced their transactions to such a low level in this respect that it seems to be the only question with them, Who will work lowest or supply goods at the lowest figure? And this, too, totally irrespective of the circumstance whether it may not reduce wages or bankrupt the contractor. No matter whether a party who has executed the work required for years be noted for paying a fair and remunerating price to his workmen or sub-tradesmen, and bears the character of a responsible and trustworthy man--all this is as nothing; for somebody, who may be, for aught that is cared, deficient in all these points, will do what is needful at so much less; and then, unless willing to reduce the wage of his workpeople, the long-employed tradesman has but the alternative of losing his business or cheating his creditors. And then, to give a smack to the whole affair, the ‘Stationery Office’ of the Government, or the committee of the club, will congratulate themselves and their auditors on the fact that a diminution in expenses has been effected; a result commemorated perhaps by an addition of salary to the officials in the former case, and of a ‘cordial vote of thanks’ in the latter. I do not write ‘without book,’ I can assure you, on these matters; for I have long and earnestly watched the subject, and could fill many a page with the details.”

* * * * *

Of the ruinous effects of the contract system in connection with the army clothing, Mr. Pearse, the army clothier, gave the following evidence before the Select Committee on Army and Navy Appointments.

“When the contract for soldier’s great coats was opened, Mr. Maberly took it at the same price (13_s._) in December, 1808; this shows the effect of wild competition. In February following, Esdailes’ house, who were accoutrement makers, and not clothiers, got knowledge of what was Mr. Maberly’s price, and they tendered at 12_s._ 6-1/2_d._ a month afterwards; it was evidently then a struggle for the price, and how the quality the least good (if we may use such a term) could pass. Mr. Maberly did not like to be outbidden by Esdailes; Esdailes stopped subsequently, and Mr. Maberly bid 12_s._ 6_d._ three months after, and Mr. Dixon bid again, and got the contract for 11_s._ 3_d._ in October, and in December of that year another public tender took place, and Messrs. A. and D. Cock took it at 11_s._ 5-1/2_d._, and they subsequently broke. It went on in this sort of way,--changing hands every two or every three months, by bidding against each other. Presently, though it was calculated that the great coat was to wear four years, it was found that those great coats were so inferior in quality, that they wore only two years, and representations were accordingly made to the Commander-in-Chief, when it was found necessary that great care should be taken to go back to the original good quality that had been established by the Duke of York.”

Mr. Shaw, another army clothier, and a gentleman with whose friendship, I am proud to say, I have been honoured since the commencement of my inquiries--a gentleman actuated by the most kindly and Christian impulses, and of whom the workpeople speak in terms of the highest admiration and regard; this gentleman, impressed with a deep sense of the evils of the contract system to the under-paid and over-worked operatives of his trade, addressed a letter to the Chairman of the Committee on Army, Navy, and Ordnance Estimates, from which the following are extracts:--

“My Lord, my object more particularly is, to request your lordship will submit to the committee, as an evidence of the evils of contracts, the great coat sent herewith, made similar to those supplied to the army, and I would respectfully appeal to them as men, gentlemen, as Christians, whether fivepence, the price now being given to poor females for making up those coats, is a fair and just price for six, seven, and eight hours’ work.... My Lord, the misery amongst the workpeople is most distressing--of a mass of people, willing to work, who cannot obtain it, and of a mass, especially women, most iniquitously paid for their labour, who are in a state of oppression disgraceful to the Legislature, the Government, the Church, and the consuming public.... I would, therefore, most humbly and earnestly call upon your lordship, and the other members of the committee, to recommend an immediate stop to be put to the system of contracting now pursued by the different government departments, as being one of false economy, as a system most oppressive to the poor, and being most injurious, in every way, to the best interests of the country.”

In another place the same excellent gentleman says:--

“I could refer to the screwing down of other things by the government authorities, but the above will be sufficient to show how cruelly the workpeople employed in making up this clothing are oppressed; and some of the men will tell you they are tired of life. Last week I found one man making a country police coat, who said his wife and child were out begging.”

* * * * *

The last mentioned of the several modes of cheapening labour is the “small-master system” of work, that is to say, the operatives taking to make up materials on their own account rather than for capitalist employers. In every trade where there are small masters, trades into which it requires but little capital to embark, there is certain to be a cheapening of labour. Such a man works himself, and to get work, to meet the exigences of the rent and the demands of the collectors of the parliamentary and parochial taxes, he will often underwork the very journeymen whom he occasionally employs, doing “the job” in such cases with the assistance of his family and apprentices, at a less rate of profit than the amount of journeymen’s wages.

Concerning these garret masters I said, when treating of the Cabinet trade, in the Chronicle, “The cause of the extraordinary decline of wages in the Cabinet trade (even though the hands decreased and the work increased to an unprecedented extent) will be found to consist in the increase that has taken place within the last 20 years of what are called ‘garret masters’ in the cabinet trade. These garret masters are a class of small ‘trade-working masters,’ the same as the ‘chamber masters’ in the shoe trade, supplying both capital and labour. They are in manufacture what ‘the peasant proprietors’ are in agriculture--their own employers and their own workmen. There is, however, this one marked distinction between the two classes--the garret master cannot, like the peasant proprietor, eat what he produces; the consequence is, that he is obliged to convert each article into food immediately he manufactures it--no matter what the state of the market may be. The capital of the garret master being generally sufficient to find him in materials for the manufacture of only one article at a time, and his savings being but barely enough for his subsistence while he is engaged in putting those materials together, he is compelled, the moment the work is completed, to part with it for whatever he can get. He cannot afford to keep it even a day, for to do so is generally to remain a day unfed. Hence, if the market be at all slack, he has to force a sale by offering his goods at the lowest possible price. What wonder, then, that the necessities of such a class of individuals should have created a special race of employers, known by the significant name of ‘slaughter-house men’--or that these, being aware of the inability of the ‘garret masters’ to hold out against any offer, no matter how slight a remuneration it affords for their labour, should continually lower and lower their prices, until the entire body of the competitive portion of the cabinet trade is sunk in utter destitution and misery? Moreover, it is well known how strong is the stimulus among peasant proprietors, or, indeed, any class working for themselves, to extra production. So it is, indeed, with the garret masters; their industry is almost incessant, and hence a greater quantity of work is turned out by them, and continually forced into the market, than there would otherwise be. What though there be a brisk and a slack season in the cabinet-maker’s trade as in the majority of others?--slack or brisk, the garret masters must produce the same excessive quantity of goods. In the hope of extricating himself from his overwhelming poverty, he toils on, producing more and more--and yet the more he produces the more hopeless does his position become; for the greater the stock that he thrusts into the market, the lower does the price of his labour fall, until at last, he and his whole family work for less than half what he himself could earn a few years back by his own unaided labour.”

The small-master system of work leads, like the domestic system, with which, indeed, it is intimately connected, to the employment of wives, children, and apprentices, as a means of assistance and extra production--for as the prices decline so do the small masters strive by further labour to compensate for their loss of income.

* * * * *

Such, then, are the several modes of work by which labour is cheapened. There are, as we have seen, but two ways of directly effecting this, viz., first by making men do more work for the same pay, and secondly, by making them do the same work for less pay. The way in which men are made to do more, it has been pointed out, is, by causing them either to work longer or quicker, or else by employing fewer hands in proportion to the work; or engaging them only for such time as their services are required, and discharging them immediately afterwards. These constitute the several modes of economizing labour, which lowers the rate of remuneration (the ratio of the pay to the work) rather than the pay itself. The several means by which this result is attained are termed “systems of work, production, or engagement,” and such are those above detailed.

Now it is a necessity of these several systems, though the actual amount of remuneration is not directly reduced by them, that a cheaper labour should be obtained for carrying them out. Thus, in contract or lump work, perhaps, the price may not be immediately lowered; the saving to the employer consisting chiefly in supervision, he having in such a case only one man to look to instead of perhaps a hundred. The contractor, or lumper, however, is differently situated; he, in order to reap any benefit from the contract, must, since he cannot do the whole work himself, employ others to help him, and to reap any benefit from the contract, this of course must be done at a lower price than he himself receives; so it is with the middleman system, where a profit is derived from the labour of other operatives; so, again, with the domestic system of work, where the several members of the family, or cheaper labourers, are generally employed as assistants; and even so is it with the small-master system, where the labour of apprentices and wives and children is the principal means of help. Hence the operatives adopting these several systems of work are rather the instruments by which cheap labour is obtained than the cheap labourers themselves. It is true that a sweater, a chamber master, or garret master, a lumper or contractor, or a home worker, generally works cheaper than the ordinary operatives, but this he does chiefly by the cheap labourers he employs, and then, finding that he is able to underwork the rest of the trade, and that the more hands he employs the greater becomes his profit, he offers to do work at less than the usual rate. It is not a necessity of the system that the middleman operative, the domestic worker, the lumper, or garret master should be himself underpaid, but simply that he should employ others who are so, and it is thus that such systems of work tend to cheapen the labour of those trades in which they are found to prevail. Who, then, are the cheap labourers?--who the individuals, by means of whose services the sweater, the smaller master, the lumper, and others, is enabled to underwork the rest of his trade?--what the general characteristics of those who, in the majority of handicrafts, are found ready to do the same work for less pay, and how are these usually distinguished from such as obtain the higher rate of remuneration?

The cheap workmen in all trades, I find, are divisible into three classes:--

1. The unskilful. 2. The untrustworthy. 3. The inexpensive.

First, as regards the unskilful. Long ago it has been noticed how frequently boys were put to trades to which their tastes and temperaments were antagonistic. Gay, who in his quiet, unpretending style often elicited a truth, tells how a century and a half ago the generality of parents never considered for what business a boy was best adapted--

“But ev’n in infancy decree What this or t’ other son shall be.”

A boy thus brought up to a craft for which he entertains a dislike can hardly become a proficient in it. At the present time thousands of parents are glad to have their sons reared to any business which their means or opportunities place within their reach, even though the lad be altogether unsuited to the craft. The consequence is, that these boys often grow up to be unskilful workmen. There are technical terms for them in different trades, but perhaps the generic appellation is “muffs.” Such workmen, however well conducted, can rarely obtain employment in a good shop at good wages, and are compelled, therefore, to accept second, third, and fourth-rate wages, and are often driven to slop work.

Other causes may be cited as tending to form unskilful workmen: the neglect of masters or foremen, or their incapacity to teach apprentices; irregular habits in the learner; and insufficient practice during a master’s paucity of employment. I am assured, moreover, that hundreds of mechanics yearly come to London from the country parts, whose skill is altogether inadequate to the demands of the “honourable trade.” Of course, during the finishing of their education they can only work for inferior shops at inferior wages; hence another cause of cheap labour. Of this I will cite an instance: a bootmaker, who for years had worked for first-rate West-end shops, told me that when he came to London from a country town he was sanguine of success, because he knew that he was a ready man (a quick workman.) He very soon found out, however, he said, that as he aspired to do the best work, he “had his business to learn all over again;” and until he attained the requisite skill, he worked for “just what he could get:” he was a cheap, because then an unskilful, labourer.

There is, moreover, the cheaper labour of apprentices, the great prop of many a slop-trader; for as such traders disregard all the niceties of work, as they disregard also the solidity and perfect finish of any work (finishing it, as it was once described to me, “just to the eye”), a lad is soon made useful, and his labour remunerative to his master, as far as slop remuneration goes, which, though small in a small business, is wealth in a “monster business.”

There are, again, the “improvers.” These are the most frequent in the dress-making and millinery business, as young women find it impossible to form a good connection among a wealthier class of ladies in any country town, unless the “patronesses” are satisfied that their skill and taste have been perfected in London. In my inquiry (in the course of two letters in the Morning Chronicle) into the condition of the workwomen in this calling, I was told by a retired dressmaker, who had for upwards of twenty years carried on business in the neighbourhood of Grosvenor-square, that she had sometimes met with “improvers” so tasteful and quick, from a good provincial tuition, that they had really little or nothing to learn in London. And yet their services were secured for one, and oftener for two years, merely for board and lodging, while others employed in the same establishment had not only board and lodging, but handsome salaries. The improver’s, then, is generally a cheap labour, and often a very cheap labour too. The same form of cheap labour prevails in the carpenter’s trade.

There is, moreover, the labour of old men. A tailor, for instance, who may have executed the most skilled work of his craft, in his old age, or before the period of old age, finds his eyesight fail him,--finds his tremulous fingers have not a full and rapid mastery of the needle, and he then labours, at greatly reduced rates of payment, on the making of soldiers’ clothing--“sanc-work,”[56] as it is called--or on any ill-paid and therefore ill-wrought labour.

The inferior, as regards the quality of the work, and under-paid class of women, in tailoring, for example, again, cheapen labour. It is cheapened, also, by the employment of Irishmen (in, perhaps, all branches of skilled or unskilled labour), and of foreigners, more especially of Poles, who are inferior workmen to the English, and who will work very cheap, thus supplying a low-price labour to those who seek it.

I may remark further, that if a first-rate workman be driven to slop work, he soon loses his skill; he can only work slop; this has been shown over and over again, and so his labour becomes cheap in the mart.

* * * * *

2. Of Untrustworthy Labour (as a cause of cheap labour) I need not say much. It is obvious that a drunken, idle, or dishonest workman or workwoman, when pressed by want, will and must labour, not for the recompense the labour merits, but for whatever pittance an employer will accord. There is no reliance to be placed in him. Such a man cannot “hold out” for terms, for he is perhaps starving, and it is known that “he cannot be depended upon.” In the sweep’s trade many of those who work at a lower rate than the rest of the trade are men who have lost their regular work by dishonesty.

* * * * *

3. The Inexpensive class of workpeople are very numerous. They consist of three sub-divisions:--

(a.) Those who have been accustomed to a coarser kind of diet, and who, consequently, requiring less, can afford to work for less.

(b.) Those who derive their subsistence from other sources, and who, consequently, do not live by their labour.

(c.) Those who are in receipt of certain “aids to their wages,” or who have other means of living beside their work.

Of course these causes can alone have influence where the wages are minimized or reduced to the lowest ebb of subsistence, in which case they become so many means of driving down the price of labour still lower.

a. Those who, being what is designated hard-reared that is to say, accustomed to a scantier or coarser diet, and who, therefore, “can do” with a less quantity or less expensive quality of food than the average run of labourers, can of course live at a lower cost, and so afford to work at a lower rate. Among such (unskilled) labourers are the peasants from many of the counties, who seek to amend their condition by obtaining employment in the towns. I will instance the agricultural labourers of Dorsetshire.

“Bread and potatoes,” writes Mr. Thornton, in his work on Over-Population and its Remedy, p. 21, “do really form the staple of their food. As for meat, most of them would not know its taste, if, once or twice in the course of their lives,--on the squire’s having a son and heir born to him, or on the young gentleman’s coming of age,--they were not regaled with a dinner of what the newspapers call ‘old English fare.’ Some of them contrive to have a little bacon, in the proportion, it seems, of half a pound a week to a dozen persons, but they more commonly use fat to give the potatoes a relish; and, as one of them said to Mr. Austin (a commissioner), ‘they don’t always go without cheese.’”

With many poor Irishmen the rearing has been still harder. I had some conversation with an Irish rubbish-carter, who had been thrown out of work (and was entitled to no allowance from any trade society) in consequence of a strike by Mr. Myers’s men. On my asking him how he subsisted in Ireland, “Will, thin, sir,” he said, “and it’s God’s truth, I once lived for days on green things I picked up by the road side, and the turnips, and that sort of mate I stole from the fields. It was called staling, but it was the hunger, ’deed was it. That was in the county Limerick, sir, in the famine and ’viction times; and, glory be to God, I ’scaped when others didn’t.”

I may observe that the chief local paper, the _Limerick and Clare Examiner_, published twice a week, gave, twice a week, at the period of “the famine and evictions,” statements similar to that of my informant.

Now, would not a poor man, reared as the Limerick peasant I have spoken of, who was actually driven to eat the grass, which biblical history shows was once a signal punishment to a great offender--would not such a man work for the veriest dole, rather than again be subjected to the pangs of hunger? In my inquiries among the costermongers, one of them said of the Irish in his trade, and without any bitterness, “they’ll work for nothing, and live on less.” The meaning is obvious enough, although the assertion is, of course, a contradiction in itself.

“This department of labour,” says Mr. Baines, in his History of the Hand-Loom Weavers, is “greatly overstocked, and the price necessarily falls. The evil is aggravated by the multitudes of Irish who have flocked into Lancashire, some of whom, having been linen weavers, naturally resort to the loom, and others learn to weave as the easiest employment they can adopt. Accustomed to a wretched mode of living in their own country, they are contented with wages that would starve an English labourer. They have, in fact, so lowered the rate of wages as to drive many of the English out of the employment, and to drag down those who remain in it to their own level.”

b. Those who derive their subsistence from other sources can, of course, afford to work cheaper than those who have to live by their labour. To this class belongs the labour of wives and children, who, being supposed to be maintained by the toil of the husband, are never paid “living wages” for what they do; and hence the misery of the great mass of needlewomen, widows, unmarried and friendless females, and the like, who, having none to assist them, are forced to starve upon the pittance they receive for their work. The labour of those who are in prisons, workhouses, and asylums, and who consequently have their subsistence found them in such places, as well as the work of prostitutes, who obtain their living by other means than work, all come under the category of those who can afford to labour at a lower rate than such as are condemned to toil for an honest living. It is the same with apprentices and “improvers,” for whose labour the instruction received is generally considered to be either a sufficient or partial recompense, and who consequently look to other means for their support. Under the same head, too, may be cited the labour of amateurs, that is to say, of persons who either are not, or who are too proud to acknowledge themselves, regular members of the trade at which they work. Such is the case with very many of the daughters of tradesmen, and of many who are considered genteel people. These young women, residing with their parents, and often in comfortable homes, at no cost to themselves, will, and do, undersell the regular needlewomen; the one works merely for pocket-money (often to possess herself of some article of finery), while the other works for what is called “the bare life.”

c. The last-mentioned class, or those who are in possession of what may be called “aids to wages,” are differently circumstanced. Such are the men who have other employment besides that for which they accept less than the ordinary pay, as is the case with those who attend at gentlemen’s houses for one or two hours every morning, cleaning boots, brushing clothes, &c., and who, having the remainder of the day at their own disposal, can afford to work at any calling cheaper than others, because not solely dependent upon it for their living.

The army and navy pensioners (non-commissioned officers and privates) were, at one period, on the disbanding of the militia and other forces, a very numerous body, but it was chiefly the military pensioners whose position had an effect upon the labour of the country. The naval pensioners found employment as fishermen, or in some avocation connected with the sea. The military pensioners, however, were men who, after a career of soldiership, were not generally disposed to settle down into the drudgery of regular work, even if it were in their power to do so; and so, as they always had their pensions to depend upon, they were a sort of universal jobbers, and jobbed cheaply. At the present time, however, this means of cheap labour is greatly restricted, compared with what was the case, the number of the pensioners being considerably diminished. Many of the army pensioners turn the wheels for turners at present.

The allotment of gardens, which yield a partial support to the allottee, are another means of cheap labour. The allotment demands a certain portion of time, but is by no means a thorough employment, but merely an “aid,” and consequently a means, to low wages. Such a man has the advantage of obtaining his potatoes and vegetables at the cheapest rate, and so can afford to work cheaper than other men of his class. It was the same formerly with those who received “relief” under the old Poor-Law.

And even under the present system it has been found that the same practice is attended with the same result. In the Sixth Annual Report of the Poor-Law Commissioners, 1840, at p. 31, there are the following remarks on the subject:--

“Whilst upon the subject of relief to widows in aid of wages, we must not omit to bring under your Lordship’s notice an illustration of the depressing effect which is produced by the practice of giving relief in aid of wages to widows upon the earnings of females. Colonel A’Court states:--

“‘As regards females, the instance to which I have alluded presents itself in the Portsea Island Union, where, from the insufficiency of workhouse accommodation, as well as from benevolent feelings, small allowances of 1_s._ 6_d._ or 2_s._ a week are given to widows with or without small children, or to married women deserted by their husbands. Having this certain income, however small, they are enabled to work at lower wages than those who do not possess this advantage. The consequence is, that competition has enabled the shirt and stay manufacturers, who abound in the Union, and who furnish in great measure the London as well as many foreign markets with these articles of their trade, to get their work done at the extraordinary low prices of--stays, complete, 9_d._; shirts, from 1_s._ to 1_s._ 6_d._ per dozen.

“‘The women all declare that they cannot possibly, after working from twelve to fifteen hours per day, earn more than 1_s._ 6_d._ per week. The manufacturers assert that, by steady work, 4_s._ to 6_s._ a week may be earned under ordinary circumstances.

“‘In the meantime the demand for workwomen increases, and it is by no means unusual to see hand-bills posted over the town requiring from 500 to 1000 additional stitchers.’”

Such, then, is the character of the cheap workers in all trades; go where we will, we shall find the low-priced labour of the trade to consist of either one or other of the three classes above-mentioned; while the means by which this labour is brought into operation will be generally by one of the “systems of work” before specified.

* * * * *

The cheap labour of the rubbish-carters’ trade appears to be a consequence of two distinct antecedents, viz., casual labour and the prevalence of the contract system among builder’s work. The small-master system also appears to have some influence upon it.

First as regards the influence of casual labour in reducing the ordinary rate of wages.

The tables given at p. 290, vol. ii., showing the wages paid to the rubbish-carters, present what appears, and indeed is, a strange discrepancy of payment to the labourers in rubbish-carting. About three-fourths of the rubbish-carters throughout London receive 18_s._ weekly, when in work; in Hampstead, however, the rate of their wages is (uniformly) 20_s._ a week; in Lambeth (but less uniformly), it is 19_s._; in Wandsworth, 17_s._; in Islington, 16_s._; and in Greenwich, 14_s._ and 12_s._ The character of the work, whether executed for 12_s._ or 20_s._ weekly, is the same; why, then, can a rubbish-carter, who works at Hampstead, earn 8_s._ a week more than one who works at Greenwich? An employer of rubbish-carters, and of similar labourers, on a large scale, a gentleman thoroughly conversant with the subject in all its industrial bearings, accounts for the discrepancy in this manner:--

After the corn and the hop-harvests have terminated, there is always an influx of unskilled labourers into Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich. These are the men who, from the natural bent of their dispositions, or from the necessity of their circumstances, resort to the casual labour afforded by the revolution of the seasons, when to gather the crops before the weather may render the harvest precarious and its produce unsound, is a matter of paramount necessity, and the increase of hands employed during this season is, as a consequence, proportionately great. The chief scene of such labour in the neighbourhood of the metropolis, is in the county of Kent; and on the cessation of this work, of course there is a large amount of labour “turned adrift,” to seek, the next few days, for any casual employment that may “turn up.” In this way, I am assured, a large amount of cheap and unskilled labour is being constantly placed at the command of those masters who, so to speak, occupy the line of march to London, and are, therefore, first applied to for employment by casual labourers; who, when engaged, are employed as inferior, or unskilful, workmen, at an inferior rate of remuneration. Greenwich may be looked upon as the first stage or halt for casual labourers, on their way to London.

My informant assured me, as the result of his own observations, that an English labourer would, as a general rule, execute more work by one-sixth, in a week, than an Irish labourer (a large proportion of the casual hands are Irish); that is, the extent of work which would occupy the Irishman six, would occupy the Englishman but five days, were it so calculated. The Englishman was, however, usually more skilled and persevering, and far more to be depended upon. So different was the amount of work, even in rubbish-carting, between an able and experienced hand and one unused to the toil, or one inadequate from want of alertness or bodily strength, or any other cause, to its full and quick execution, that two “good” men in a week have done as much work as three indifferent hands. Thus two men at 18_s._ weekly each are as cheap (only employers cannot always see it), when they are thorough masters of their business, as three unready hands at 12_s._ a week each. The misfortune, however, is, that the 12_s._ a week men have a tendency to reduce the 16_s._ to their level.

With regard to the difference between the wages of Hampstead and Greenwich, I am informed that stationary working rubbish-carters are not too numerous in Hampstead, which is considered as rather “out of the way;” and as that metropolitan suburb is surrounded in every direction by pasture-land and wood-land, it is not in the line of resort of the class of men who seek the casual labour in harvesting, &c., of which I have spoken; it is rarely visited by them, and consequently, the regular hands are less interfered with than elsewhere, and wages have not been deteriorated.

The mode of work among the scurf labourers differs somewhat from that of the honourable part of the trade; the work executed by the scurf masters being for the most part on a more limited scale than that of the others. To meet the demands of builders or of employers generally, when “time” is an object, demands the use of relays of men, and of strong horses. This demand the smaller or scurf master cannot always meet. He may find men, but not always horses and carts, and he will often enough undertake work beyond his means and endeavour to aggrandise his profits by screwing his labourers. The hours of scurf-employed labour are nominally the same as the regular trade, but as an Irish carter said, “it’s ralely the hours the masther plases, and they’re often as long as it’s light.” The scurf labourer is often paid by the day, with “a day’s hire, and no notice beyond.” I am informed that scurf labourers generally work an hour a day, without extra remuneration, longer than those in the honourable trade.

The rubbish-carters employed by the scurf masters are not, as a body, I am assured, so badly paid as they were a few years back. It is rarely that labouring men can advance any feasible reason for the changes in their trade.

One of the main causes of the deteriorated wages of the rubbish-carters is the system of contracting and subletting. This, however, is but a branch of the ramified system of subletting in the construction of the “scamped” houses of the speculative builders. The building of such houses is sublet, literally from cellar to chimney. The rubbish-carting may be contracted for at a certain sum. The contractor may sublet it to men who will do it for one-fourth less perhaps, and who may sublet the labour in their turn. For instance, the calculation may be founded on the working men’s receiving 15_s._ weekly. A contractor, a man possessing a horse, perhaps, and a couple of carts, and hiring another horse, will undertake it on the knowledge of his being able to engage men at 12_s._ or 13_s._ weekly, and so obtain a profit; indeed the reduction of price in such cases must all come out of the labour.

This subletting, I say, is but a small part of a gigantic system, and it is an unquestionable cause of the grinding down of the rubbish-carters’ wages, and that by a class who have generally been working men themselves, and risen to be the owners of one or two carts and horses.

From one of these men, now a working carter, I had the following account, which further illustrates the mode of labour as well as of employment.

“I got a little a-head,” he stated, “from railway jobbing and such like, and my father-in-law, as soon as I got married, made me a present of 20_l._ unexpected. I started for myself, thinking to get on by degrees, and get a fresh horse and cart every year. But it couldn’t be done, sir. If I offered to take a contract to cart the rubbish and dig it, a builder would say,--‘I can’t wait; you haven’t carts and horses enough from your own account, and I can’t wait. If you have to hire them I can do that myself.’ I was too honest, sir, in telling the plain truth, or I might have got more jobs. It’s not a good trade in a small way, for if your horses aren’t at work, they’re eating their heads off, and you’re fretting your heart out. Then I got to do sub-contracting, as you call it. No, it weren’t that, it was under-working. I’d go to Mr. V---- as I knew, and say, ‘You’re on such a place, sir, have you room for me?’ ‘I think not,’ he’d say, ‘I’ve only the regular thing and no advantages--10_s._ 6_d._ for a day’s work, horse and cart, or 4_s._ a load.’ Those are the regular terms. Then I’d say, ‘Well, sir, I’ll do it for 8_s._ 6_d._, and be my own carman;’ and so perhaps I’d get the job, and masters often say: ‘I know I shall lose at 10_s._ 6_d._, but if I don’t, you shall have something over.’ Get anything over! Of course not, sir. I could have lived if I had constant work for two horses and carts, for I would have got a cheap man; such as me must get cheap men to drive the second cart, and under my own eye, whenever I could; but one of my poor horses broke his leg, and had to be sent to the knacker’s, and I sold the other and my carts, and have worked ever since as a labouring man; mainly at pipe-work. O, yes, and rubbish-carting. I get 18_s._ a week now, but not regular.

“Well, sir, I’m sure I can’t say, and I think no man could say, how much there’s doing in sub-contracting. If I’m at work in Cannon-street, I don’t know what’s doing at Notting-hill, or beyond Bow and Stratford. No, I’m satisfied there’s not so much of it as there was, but it’s done so on the sly; who knows how much is done still, or how little? It’s a system as may be carried on a long time, and is carried on, as far as men’s labour goes, but it’s different where there’s horses, and stable rent. They can’t be screwed, or under-fed, beyond a certain pitch, or they couldn’t work at all, and so there’s not as much under-work about horse-labour.”

These small men are among the scurf and petty rubbish-carters, and are often the means of depressing the class to which they have belonged.

The employment in the honourable trade at rubbish-carting would be one of the best among unskilled labourers, were it continuous. But it is not continuous, and three-fourths of those engaged in it have only six months’ work at it in the year. In the scurf-masters’ employ, the work is really “casual,” or, as I heard it quite as often described, “chance.” In both departments of this trade, the men out of work look for a job in scavagery, and very generally in night-work, or, indeed, in any labour that offers. The Irish rubbish-carters will readily become hawkers of apples, oranges, walnuts, and even nuts, when out of employ, so working in concert with their wives. I heard of only four instances of a similar resource by the English rubbish-carters.

What I have said of the education, religion, politics, concubinage, &c., &c., of the better-paid rubbish-carters would have but to be repeated, if I described those of the under-paid. The latter may be more reckless when they have the means of enjoyment, but their diet, amusements, and expenditure would be the same, were their means commensurate. As it is, they sometimes live very barely and have hardly any amusements at their command. Their dinners, when single men, are often bread and a saveloy; when married, sometimes tea and bread and butter, and occasionally some “block ornaments;” the Irish being the principal consumers of cheap fish.

The labour of the wives of the rubbish-carters is far more frequently that of char-women than of needle-women, for the great majority of these women before their marriage were servant-maids. All the information I received was concurrent in that respect. The wife of a carman who keeps a chandler’s shop near the Edgeware-road, greatly resorted to by the class to which her husband belonged, told me that out of somewhere about 25 wives of rubbish-carters or similar workmen, whom she knew, 20 had been domestic servants; what the others had been she did not know.

“I can tell you, sir,” said the woman, “charing is far better than needle-work; far. If a young woman has conducted herself well in service, she can get charing, and then if she conducts herself well again, she makes good friends. That’s, of course, if they’re honest, sir. I know it from experience. My husband--before we were able to open this shop--was in the hospital a long time, and I went out charing, and did far better than a sister I have, who is a capital shirt-maker. There’s broken victuals, sometimes, for your children. It’s a hard world, sir, but there’s a many good people in it.”

One woman (before mentioned) earned not less than 5_s._ weekly in superior shirt-making, as it was described to me, which was evidently looked upon as a handsome remuneration for such toil. Another earned 3_s._ 6_d._; another 2_s._ 6_d._; and others, with uncertain employ, 2_s._, 1_s._ 6_d._, and in some weeks nothing. Needle-work, however, is, I am informed, not the work of one-tenth of the rubbish-carters’ wives, whatever the earnings of the husband. From all I could learn, too, the wives of the under-paid rubbish-carters earned more, by from 10 to 20 per cent., than those of the better-paid. The earnings of a charwoman in average employ, as regards the wives of the rubbish-carters, is about 4_s._ weekly, without the exhausting toil of the needle-woman, and with the advantage of sometimes receiving broken meat, dripping, fat, &c., &c. The wives of the Irish labourers in this trade are often all the year street-sellers, some of wash-leathers, some of cabbage-nets, and some of fruit, clearing perhaps from 6_d._ to 9_d._ a day, if used to street-trading, as the majority of them are.

The under-paid labourers in this trade are chiefly poor Irishmen. The Irish workmen in this branch of the trade have generally been brought up “on the land,” as they call it, in their own country, and after the sufferings of many of them during the famine, 12_s._ a week is regarded as “a rise in the world.”

From one of this class I learned the following particulars. He seemed a man of 26 or 28:--

“I was brought up on the land, sir,” he said, “not far from Cullin, in the county Wexford. I lived with my father and mother, and shure we were badly off. Shure, thin, we were. Father and mother--the Heavens be their bed--died one soon after another, and some friends raised me the manes to come to this country. Well, thin, indeed, sir, and I can’t say how they raised them, God reward them. I got to Liverpool, and walked to London, where I had some relations. I sold oranges in the strates the first day I was in London. God help me, I was glad to do anything to get a male’s mate. I’ve lived on 6_d._ a-day sometimes. I have indeed. There was 2_d._ for the lodging, and 4_d._ for the mate, the tay and bread and butter. Did I live harder than that in Ireland, your honour? Well, thin, I have. I’ve lived on a dish of potatoes that might cost a penny there, where things is bhutiful and chape. Not like this country. No, no. I wouldn’t care to go back. I have no friends there now. Thin I got ingaged by a man--yis, he was a rubbish-carter--to help him to fill his cart, and then we shot it on some new garden grounds, and had to shovel it about to make the grounds livil, afore the top soil was put on, for the bhutiful flowers and the gravel walks. Tim--yis, he was a counthryman of mine, but a Cor-rk man--said he’d made a bad bargain, for he was bad off, and he only clared 4_d._ a load, and he’d divide it wid me. We did six loads in a day, and I got 1_s._ every night for a wake. This was a rise. But one Sunday evening I was standing talking with people as lived in the same coort, and I tould how I was helping Tim. And two Englishmen came to find four men as they wanted for work, and ould Ragin (Regan) tould them what I was working for. And one of ’em said, I was ‘a b---- Irish fool,’ and ould Ragin said so, and words came on, and thin there was a fight, and the pelleece came, and thin the fight was harder. I was taken to the station, and had a month. I had two black eyes next morning, but was willin’ to forget and forgive. No, I’m not fond of fightin’. I’m a paceable man, glory be to God, and I think I was put on. Oh, yis, and indeed thin, your honour, it was a fair fight.”

I inquired of an English rubbish-carter as to these fair fights. He knew nothing of the one in question, but had seen such fights. They were usually among the Irish themselves, but sometimes Englishmen were “drawn into them.” “Fair fights! sir,” he said, “why the Irishes don’t stand up to you like men. They don’t fight like Christians, sir; not a bit of it. They kick, and scratch, and bite, and tear, like devils, or cats, or women. They’re soon settled if you can get an honest knock at them, but it isn’t easy.”

“I sarved my month,” continued my Irish informant, “and it ain’t a bad place at all, the prison. I tould the gintleman that had charge of us, that I was a Roman Catholic, God be praised, and couldn’t go to his prayers. ‘O very well, Pat,’ says he. And next day the praste came, and we were shown in to him, and very angry he was, and said our conduc’ was a disgrace to religion, and to our counthry, and to him. Do I think he was right, sir? God knows he was, or he wouldn’t have said so.

“I hadn’t been out of prison two hours before I was hired for a job, at 10_s._ a week. It was in the city, and I carried old bricks and rubbish along planks, from the inside of a place as was pulled down; but the outside, all but the roof, was standin’ until the windor frames, and the door posts, and what other timbers there was, was sould. It was dreadful hard work, carrying the basket of rubbish on your back to the cart. The dust came through, and stuck to my neck, for I was wet all over wid sweatin’ so. Every man was allowed a pint of beer a day, and I thought nivver anything was so sweet. I don’t know who gave it. The masther, I suppose. Will, thin, sir, I don’t know who was the masther; it was John Riley as ingaged me, but he’s no masther. Yis, thin, and I’ve been workin’ that way ivver since. I’ve sometimes had 14_s._ a week, and sometimes 10_s._, and sometimes 12_s._ A man like me must take what he can get, and I will take it. I’ve been out of work sometimes, but not so much as some, for I’m young and strong. No, I can’t save no money, and I have nothing just now to save it for. When I’m out of work, I sell fruit in the streets.”

This statement, then, as regards the Irish labourers, shows the quality of the class employed. The English labourers, working on the same terms, are of the usual class of men so working,--broken-down men, unable, or accounting themselves unable, to “do better,” and so accepting any offer affording the means of their daily bread.

OF THE LONDON CHIMNEY-SWEEPERS.

Chimney-Sweepers are a consequence of two things--chimneys and the use of coals as fuel; and these are both commodities of comparatively recent introduction.

It is generally admitted that the earliest mention of chimneys is in an Italian MS., preserved in Venice, in which it is recorded that chimneys were thrown down in that city from the shock of an earthquake in 1347. In England, down even to the commencement of the reign of Elizabeth, the greater part of the houses in our towns had no chimneys; the fire was kindled on a hearth-stone on the floor, or on a raised grate against the wall or in the centre of the apartment, and the smoke found its way out of the doors, windows, or casements.

During the long, and--as regards civil strife--generally peaceful, reign of Elizabeth, the use of chimneys increased. In a Discourse prefixed to an edition of Holinshed’s “Chronicles,” in 1577, Harrison, the writer, complains, among other things, “marvellously altered for the worse in England,” of the multitude of chimneys erected of late. “Now we have many chimneys,” he says, “and our tenderlings complain of rheums, catarrhs, and poses. Then we had none but reredoses, and our heads did never ache.”[57] He demurs, too, to the change in the material of which the houses were constructed: “Houses were once builded of willow, then we had oaken men; but now houses are made of oak, and our men not only become willow, but a great many altogether of straw, which is a sore alteration.”

In Shakespeare’s time, the chimney-sweepers seem to have become a recognised class of public cleansers, for in “Cymbeline” the poet says--

“Fear no more the heat o’ the sun, Nor the furious winter’s rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers come to dust.”

In this beautiful passage there is an intimation, by the “chimney-sweepers” being contrasted with the “golden lads and girls,” that their employment was regarded as of the meanest, a repute it bears to the present day.

But chimneys seem, like the “sweeps” or “sweepers,” to have been a necessity of a change of fuel. In the days of “rere-dosses,” our ancestors burnt only wood, so that they were not subjected to so great an inconvenience as we should be were our fires kindled without the vent of the chimney. Our fuel is coal, which produces a greater quantity of soot, and of black smoke, which is the result of imperfect combustion, than any other fuel, the smoke from wood being thin and pure in comparison.

The first mention of the use of coal as fuel occurs in a charter of Henry III., granting licence to the burgesses of Newcastle to dig for coal. In 1281 Newcastle is said to have had some slight trade in this article. Shortly afterwards coal began to be imported into London for the use of smiths, brewers, dyers, soap-boilers, &c. In 1316, during the reign of Edward I., its use in London was prohibited because of the supposed injurious influence of the smoke. In 1600 the use of coal in the metropolis became universal; about 200 vessels were employed in the London trade, and about 200,000 chaldrons annually imported.

In 1848, however, there were, besides the railway-borne coals, 12,267 cargoes imported, or 3,418,340 tons. The London coal trade now employs 2700 vessels and 21,600 seamen, and constitutes one-fourth of the whole general trade of the Thames.

To understand the necessity for chimney-sweepers, and the extent of the work for them to do, that is to say, the quantity of soot deposited in our chimneys during the combustion of the three and a half millions of tons of coals that are now annually consumed in London, we must first comprehend the conditions upon which the evolution of soot depends, soot being simply the fine carbonaceous particles condensed from the smoke of coal fuel, and deposited against the sides of the chimneys during its ascent between the walls to the tops of our houses. These conditions appear to have been determined somewhat accurately during the investigations of the Smoke Prevention Committee.

There are two kinds of smoke from the ordinary materials of combustion--(A) Opaque, or black smoke; (B) Transparent, or invisible smoke.

A. The Opaque smoke, though the most offensive and annoying from its dirtying properties, is, like the muddiest water, the least injurious to animal or vegetable health. It consists of the particles of unconsumed carbon which have not been deposited in the form of soot in the flue or chimney. This is the black smoke which will be further described.

B. Transparent smoke is composed of gases which are for the most part invisible, such as carbonic acid and carbonic oxide; also of sulphurous acid, but smokes with that component are both visible and invisible. The sulphurous acid is said by Professor Brande to destroy vegetation, for it has long been a cause of wonder why vegetation in towns did not flourish, since carbonic acid (which is so largely produced from the action of our fires) is the vital air of trees, shrubs, and plants[58].

I may here observe, that several of the scientific men who gave the results of years of observation and study in their evidence to the Committee of the House of Commons, remarked on the popular misunderstanding of what smoke was, it being generally regarded as something visible. But in the composition of smoke, it appears, one product may be visible, and another invisible, and both offensive; while “occasionally you may have from the same materials varieties of products, all invisible, according to the manner to which they are supplied with air.”

The Committee requested Dr. Reid to prepare a definition of “smoke,” and more especially of “black smoke.” The following is the substance of the doctor’s definition, or rather description:--

1. Black Smoke consists essentially of carbon separated by heat from coal or other combustible bodies. If this smoke be produced at a very high temperature, the carbon forms a loose and powdery soot, comparatively free from other substances; while the lower the temperature at which black soot is formed, the larger is the amount of other substances with which it is mingled, among which are the following:--carbon, water, resin, oily and other inflammable products of various volatilities, ammonia, and carbonate of ammonia.

When the carbon, oils, resin, and water are associated together in certain proportions, they constitute tar. Soft pitch is produced if the tar be so far heated that the water is expelled; and hard pitch (resin blackened by carbon) when the oils are volatilized.

In all cases of ordinary combustion, carbonic acid is formed by the red-hot cinders, or by gases or other compounds containing carbon, acting on the oxygen of the air. This carbonic acid is discharged in general as an invisible gas. If the carbonic acid pass through red-hot cinders, or any carbonaceous smoke at a high temperature, it loses one particle of oxygen, and becomes carbonic oxide gas. The lost oxygen, uniting with carbon, forms an additional amount of carbonic oxide gas, which passes to the external atmosphere as an invisible gas, unless kindled in its progress, or at the top of the chimney, when its temperature is sufficiently elevated by the action of air. Carbonic oxide gas burns with a blue flame, and produces carbonic acid gas.

Black smoke is always associated with carburetted hydrogen gases. These may be mechanically blended with the oils and resins, but must be carefully distinguished from them. They form more essentially, when in a state of combustion, the inflammable matters that constitute flame.

2. Smoke from Charcoal, Coke, and Anthracite, is always invisible if the material be dry. A flame may appear, however, if carbonic oxide be formed.

3. Wood or Pyroligneous Smoke is rarely black. Water and carbonic acid are the products of the full combustion of wood, omitting the consideration of the ash that remains.

4. Sulphurous Smokes. Tons of sulphur are annually evolved in various conditions from copper-works. Offensive sulphurous smokes are often evolved from various chemical works, as gas-works, acid-works, &c.

5. Hydrochloric Acid Smoke is evolved in general in large quantities from alkali works.

6. Metallic Smokes--when ores of lead, copper, arsenic, &c., are used--often contain offensive matter in a minute state of division, and suspended in the smoke evolved from the furnaces.

7. Putrescent Smokes, loaded with the products of decayed animal and vegetable matter, are evolved at times from drains in visible vapours, more especially in damp weather. The fœtid particles, when associated with moisture in this smoke, are entirely decomposed when subjected to heat.

Dr. Ure says, speaking of the cause of the ordinary black smoke above described, “The inevitable conversion of atmospheric air into carbonic acid has been hitherto the radical defect of almost all furnaces. The consequence is, that this gaseous matter is mixed with an atmosphere containing far too little oxygen, and instead of burning the carbon and hydrogen, which constitute the coal gases, the carbon is deposited partly in a pulverized form, constituting smoke or soot, and a great deal of the carbon gets half-burnt, and forms what is well known under the name of carbonic oxide, which is half-burnt charcoal.”

“The ordinary smoke,” Professor Faraday said, in his examination before the Committee, “is the visible black part of the products, the unburnt portions of the carbon. If you prevent the production of carbonic oxide or carbonic acid, you increase the production of smoke. You must with coal fuel either have carbonic acid or oxide, or else black smoke.

“Which is the least noxious?” he was asked, and answered, “As far as regards health, carbonic acid and carbonic oxide are most noxious to health; but it is not so much a question of health as of cleanliness and comfort, because I believe that this town is as healthy as other places where there are not these fires.

“It is partly the impure coal gas evolved after the fresh charge of coal which originates the smokes, when not properly supplied with air; but it is a very mixed question. When a fresh charge of coal is put upon the fire, a great quantity of evaporable matter, which would be called impure coal gas according to the language of the question, is produced; and as that matter travels on in the heated place, if there be a sufficient supply of air, both the hydrogen and the carbon are entirely burnt. But if there be an insufficient supply of air, the hydrogen is taken possession of first, and the carbon is set free in its black and solid form; and if that goes into the cool part of the chimney before fresh air gets to it, that carbon is so carried out into the atmosphere and is the smoke in question. Generally speaking, the great rush of smoke is when coal is first put on the fire; and that from the want of a sufficient supply of oxygen at the right time, because the carbon is cooled so low as not to take fire.”

This eminent chemist stated also that there was no difference in the ultimate chemical effect upon the air between a wood fire and a coal fire, but with wood there was not so much smoke set free in the heated place, which caused a difference in the gaseous products of wood combustion and of coal combustion. He thought that perhaps wood was the fuel which would be most favourable to health as affecting the atmosphere, inasmuch as it produced more water, and less carbonic acid, as the product of combustion.

What may be called the peculiarities of a smoky and sooty atmosphere are of course more strongly developed in London than elsewhere, as the following curious statements show:--

Dr. Reid, in describing metropolitan smoke, spoke of “those black portions of soot that every one is familiar with, which annoy us, for instance, at the Houses of Parliament to such an extent that I have been under the necessity of putting up a veil, about 40 feet long and 12 feet deep, on which, on a single evening, taking the worst kind of weather for the production of soot, we can count occasionally 200,000 visible portions of soot excluded at a single sitting. We count with the naked eye the number of pieces entangled upon a square inch. I have examined the amount deposited on different occasions in different parts of London at the tops of some houses; and on one occasion at the Horse Guards the amount of soot deposited was so great, that it formed a complete and continuous film, so that when I walked upon it I saw the impression of my foot left as distinctly on that occasion as when snow lies upon the ground. The film was exceedingly thin, but I could discover no want of continuity. On other occasions I have noticed in London that the quantity that escapes into individual houses is so great that in a single night I have observed a mixture of soot and of hoar frost collecting at the edge of the door, and forming a stripe three-quarters of an inch in breadth, and bearing an exact resemblance to a pepper and salt grey cloth. Those that I refer to are extreme occasions.”

Mr. Booth mentioned, that one of the gardeners of the Botanic Garden in the Regent’s-park, could tell the number of days sheep had been in the park from the blackness of their wool, its oleaginous power retaining the black.

Dr. Ure informed the Committee that a column of smoke might be seen extending in different directions round London, according to the way of the wind, for a distance of from 20 to 30 miles; and that Sir William Herschel had told him that when the wind blew from London he could not use his great telescope at Slough.

It was stated, moreover, that when a respirator is washed, the water is rendered dirty by the particles of soot adhering to the wire gauze, and which, but for this, would have entered the mouth.

Professor Brande said, on the subject of the public health being affected by smoke, “I cannot say that my opinion is that smoke produces any unhealthiness in London; it is a great nuisance certainly; but I do not think we have any good evidence that it produces disease of any kind.”

“This Committee,” said Mr. Beckett, “have been told that, by the mechanical effects of smoke upon the chest and lungs, disease takes place; that is, by swallowing a certain quantity of smoke the respiratory organs are injured; can you give any opinion upon that?”--“One would conceive,” replied the Professor, “that that is the case; but when we compare the health of London with that of any other town or place where they are comparatively free or quite free from smoke, we do not find that difference which we should expect in regard to health.”

Mr. E. Solly, lecturer on chemistry at the Royal Institution, expressed his opinion of the effect of smoke upon the health of towns:--

“My impression is,” he said, “that it produces decided evil in two or three ways: first, mechanically; the solid black carbonaceous matter produces a great deal of disease; it occasions dirt amongst the lower orders, and, if they will not take pains to remove it, it engenders disease. If we could do away the smoke nuisance, I believe a great deal of that disease would be put an end to. But there is another point, and that is, the bad effects produced by the gases, sulphurous acid and other compounds of that nature, which are given out. If we do away with smoke, we shall still have those gases; and I have no doubt that those gases produce a great part of the disease that is produced by smoke.”

On the other hand Dr. Reid thought that smoke was more injurious from the dirt it created than from causing impurity in the atmosphere, although “it was obvious enough that the inspiration of a sooty atmosphere must be injurious to persons of a delicate constitution.” Dr. Ure pronounced smoke, in the common sense of visible black smoke, unwholesome, but “not so eminently as the French imagine.”

Many witnesses stated their conviction that where poor people resided amongst smoke, they felt it impossible to preserve cleanliness in their persons or their dwellings, and that made them careless of their homes and indifferent to a decency of appearance, so that the public-house, and places where cleanliness and propriety were in no great estimation, became places of frequent resort, on the plain principle that if a man’s home were uncomfortable, he was not likely to stay in it.

“I think,” said Mr. Booth, “one great effect of the evil of smoke is upon the dwellings of the poor; it renders them less attentive to their personal appearance, and, in consequence, to their social condition.”

It was also stated that there were “certain districts inhabited by the poor, where they will not hang out their clothes to be cleansed; they say it is of no use to do it, they will become dirty as before, and consequently they do not have their clothes washed.” The districts specified as presenting this characteristic are St. George’s-in-the East and the neighbourhood of Old-street, St. Luke’s.

It must not be lost sight of, that whatever evils, moral or physical, without regarding merely pecuniary losses, are inflicted by the excess of smoke, they fall upon the poor, and almost solely on the poor. It is the poor who must reside, as was said, and with a literality not often applicable to popular phrases, “in the thick of it,” and consequently there must either be increased washing or increased dirt.

To effect the mitigation of the nuisance of smoke, two points were considered:--

A. The substitution of some other material, containing less bituminous matter, for the “Newcastle coal.”

B. The combustion of the smoke, before its emission into the atmospheric air, by means of mechanical contrivances founded on scientific principles.

As regards the first consideration (A) it was recommended that anthracite, or stone Welsh coal, which is a smokeless fuel, should be used instead of the Newcastle coal. This coal is almost the sole fuel in Philadelphia, a city of Quaker neatness beyond any in the United States of North America, and sometimes represented as the cleanest in the world. The anthracite coal is somewhat dearer than Newcastle coal in London, but only in a small degree.

Coke was also recommended as a substitute for coal in private dwellings.

“Are you of opinion,” Dr. Reid was asked, “that smoke may be in a great measure prevented by extending the use of gas and coke?” He answered, “In numerous cities, where large quantities of gas are produced, coke is very frequently the principal fuel of the poor, and the difficulty of lighting that coke, and the difficulty of having heat developed by it in sufficient quantity, necessarily led me to look at the construction of the fire-places adapted for it. And on a general review of the question, I do entertain the opinion, that if education were more extended amongst the humblest classes with respect to the economy of their own fireside (I mean, literally, the fire-place, at present), and if gas were greatly extended, so that they did not drain the coal of the gas-works of the last dregs of gaseous matter, which are of very little use as gas, and more to be considered as adding to the bulk for sale than as valuable gas, that a coke might be left which would be easily accendible, which would be economical, and which, if introduced into fire-places where an open fire is desired, would entirely remove the necessity of sweeping chimneys even with machines, and would at the same time give as economical a fire as any ordinary fire-place can produce, for an ordinary coal fire rarely is powerful in its calorific emanations till the mass of gas has been expelled, and we see the cherry-red fire. The amount of gas that has escaped previously to the production or coking of the fire, is the gas that is valuable in a manufactory, and if therefore the individual consumer could have, not the hard-burnt stony coke, but the soft coke, in the condition that would give at once a cherry-red fire, we should attain the two great objects--of economising gas, and at the same time of having a lively cheerful fire. Then this led me to look particularly at the price of a gas lamp for a poor man. In a poor man’s family, where the breakfast, the tea and dinner, require the principal attention, and he has some plain cooking utensils, in the heat of summer I believe that he will produce as much heat as he wants for those purposes from a single burner, which can be turned on and left all day, which shall not risk any boiling over, and by having this pure heat directed to the object to be warmed, instead of having a heavy iron grate, this plan would, if gas were generally introduced even into the humblest apartments, prove a great source of economy in summer.”

Dr. Reid also told the Committee that there was a great prejudice against the use of coke, many persons considering that it produced a sulphurous smell; but as all ordinary coal coked itself, or became coke in an open fire, and was never powerfully calorific till it became coke, the prejudice would die away.

Very little is said in the Report about the smoke of private houses; an allusion, however, is made to that portion of the investigation:--“Your Committee have received the most gratifying assurances of the confident hope entertained by several of the highest scientific authorities examined by them, that the black smoke proceeding from fires in private dwellings, and all other places, may eventually be entirely prevented, either by the adoption of stoves and grates formed for a perfect combustion of the common bituminous coal, or by the use of coke, or of anthracite; but they are of opinion that the present knowledge on that subject is not such as to justify any legislative interference with these smaller fires.”

“I should, in prospect,” Professor Faraday said to the Committee, “look forward to the possibility of a great reduction of the smoke from coal fires in houses; but my impression is, that, in the present state of things, it would be tyrannical to determine that that must be done which at present we do not know can be done. Still, I think there is reason to believe that it can be effected in a very high degree.”

Dr. Ure also thought that to extend any smoke enactment to private dwellings might be tyrannical in the present state of the chimneys, but he had no doubt that smoke might be consumed in fires in private dwellings.

* * * * *

Such, then, are the causes and remedies for smoke, and consequently of soot, for smoke, or rather opaque smoke, consists, as we have seen, of merely the gases of combustion with minute particles of carbon diffused throughout them; and as smoke is the result of the imperfect burning of our coals, it follows that chimney-sweepers are but a consequence of our ignorance, and that, as we grow wiser in the art of economising our fuel, we shall be gradually displacing this branch of labourers--the means of preventing smoke being simply the mode of displacing the chimney-sweepers--and this is another of the many facts to teach us that not only are we doubling our population in forty years, but we are likewise learning every year how to do our work with a less number of workers, either by inventing some piece of mechanism that will enable one “hand” to do as much as one hundred, or else doing away with some branch of labour altogether. Here lies the great difficulty of the time. A new element--science, with its offspring, steam--has been introduced into our society within the last century, decreasing labour at a time when the number of our labourers has been increasing at a rate unexampled in history; and the problem is, how to reconcile the new social element with the old social institutions, doing as little injury as possible to the community.

Suppose, for instance, the “smoke nuisance” entirely prevented, and that Professor Faraday’s prophecy as to the great reduction of the smoke from coal fires in houses were fulfilled, and that the expectations of the sanguine and intense Committee, who tell us that they have “received the most gratifying assurances of the confident hope entertained by several of the highest scientific authorities, that the black smoke proceeding from fires in private dwellings and all other places may be eventually entirely prevented,”--suppose that these expectations, I say, be realized (and there appears to be little doubt of the matter), what is to become of the 1000 to 1500 “sweeps” who live, as it were, upon this very smoke? Surely the whole community should not suffer for them, it will be said. True; but unfortunately the same argument is being applied to each particular section of the labouring class,--and the labourers make up by far the greater part of the community. If we are daily displacing a thousand labourers by the annihilation of this process, and another thousand by the improvement of that, what is to be the fate of those we put on one side? and where shall we find employment for the hundred thousand new “hands” that are daily coming into existence among us? This is the great problem for earnest thoughtful men to work out!

* * * * *

But we have to deal here with the chimney-sweepers as they are, and not as they may be in a more scientific age. And, first, as to the quantity of soot annually deposited at present in the London chimneys.

The quantity of soot produced in the metropolis every year may be ascertained in the following manner:--

The larger houses are swept in some instances once a month, but generally once in three months, and yield on an average six bushels of soot per year. A moderate-sized house, belonging to the “middle class,” is usually swept four times a year, and gives about five bushels of soot per annum; while houses occupied by the working and poorer classes are seldom swept more than twice, and sometimes only once, in the twelvemonth, and yield about two bushels of soot annually.

The larger houses--the residences of noblemen and the more wealthy gentry--may, then, be said to produce an average of six bushels of soot annually; the houses of the more prosperous tradesmen, about five bushels; while those of the humbler classes appear to yield only two bushels of soot per annum. There are, according to the last returns, in round numbers, 300,000 inhabited houses at present in the metropolis, and these, from the “reports” of the income and property tax, may be said to consist, as regards the average rentals, of the proportions given in the next page.

TABLE SHOWING THE NUMBER OF HOUSES, AT DIFFERENT AVERAGE RENTALS, THROUGHOUT THE METROPOLIS.

-------------------------------+-----------------------------+------------------------------ Number of Houses whose | Number of Houses whose |Number of Houses whose Average Rental is above | Average Rental is above | Average Rental is below £50. | £30 and below £50. | £30. ---------------+-------+-------+-------------+-------+-------+-------------+--------+------- |Average|Number | |Average|Number | |Average |Number |Rental.| of | |Rental.| of | |Rental. | of | |Houses.| | |Houses.| | |Houses. ---------------+-------+-------+-------------+-------+-------+-------------+--------+------- | £ | | | £ | | | £ | Hanover-square,| | |Poplar | 44 | 6,882 |Chelsea | 29 | 7,629 May Fair | 150 | 8,795 |Pancras | 41 |18,731 |Wandsworth | 29 | 8,290 St. James’s | 128 | 3,460 |Hampstead | 40 | 1,719 |St. Luke’s | 28 | 6,421 St. Martin’s | 119 | 2,323 |Kensington | 40 |17,292 |Lambeth | 28 | 20,520 London City | 117 | 7,329 |Clerkenwell | 38 | 7,259 |Lewisham | 27 | 5,936 Marylebone | 71 |15,955 |East London | 38 | 4,785 |Whitechapel | 26 | 8,832 Strand | 66 | 3,938 |St. Saviour’s| 36 | 4,613 |Hackney | 25 | 9,861 West London | 65 | 2,745 |Westminster | 36 | 6,647 |Camberwell | 25 | 9,417 St. Giles’s | 60 | 4,778 |St. Olave’s | 35 | 2,365 |Rotherhithe | 23 | 2,834 Holborn | 52 | 4,517 |Islington | 35 |13,558 |St. George’s,| | | +-------+St. George’s-| | | Southwark | 22 | 7,005 | |53,840 | in-the-East| 32 | 6,151 |Newington | 22 | 10,468 | | | | + ------+Greenwich | 22 | 14,423 | | | | |90,002 |Shoreditch | 20 | 15,433 | | | | | |Stepney | 20 | 16,346 | | | | | |Bermondsey | 18 | 7,095 | | | | | |Bethnal Green| 9 | 13,370 | | | | | | | +------- | | | | | | | |163,880 ---------------+-------+-------+-------------+-------+-------+-------------+--------+-------

Here we see that the number of houses whose average rental is above 50_l._ is 53,840; while those whose average rental is above 30_l._, and below 50_l._, are 90,002 in number; and those whose rental is below 30_l._ are as many as 163,880; the average rental for all London, 40_l._ Now, adopting the estimate before given as to the proportionate yield of soot from each of these three classes of houses, we have the following items:--

Bushels of Soot per Annum. 53,840 houses at a yearly rental above 50_l._, producing 6 bushels of soot each per annum 323,040

90,002 houses at a yearly rental above 30_l._ and below 50_l._, producing 5 bushels of soot each per annum 450,010

163,880 houses at a yearly rental below 30_l._, producing 2 bushels of soot each per annum 327,760 --------- Total number of bushels of soot annually produced throughout London 1,100,810

This calculation will be found to be nearly correct if tried by another mode. The quantity of soot depends greatly upon the amount of volatile or bituminous matter in the coals used. By a table given at p. 169 of the second volume of this work it will be seen that the proportion of volatile matter contained in the several kinds of coal are as follows:--

Cannel or gas coals contain 40 to 60 per cent. of volatile matter.

Newcastle or “house” coals, about 37 per cent.

Lancashire and Yorkshire coals, 35 to 40 per cent.

South Welsh or “steam” coals, 11 to 15 per cent.

Anthracite or “stone” coals, none.

The house coals are those chiefly used throughout London, so that every ton of such coals contains about 800 lbs. of volatile matter, a considerable proportion of which appears in the form of smoke; but what proportion and what is the weight of the carbonaceous particles or soot evolved in a given quantity of smoke, I know of no means of judging. I am informed, however, by those practically acquainted with the subject, that a ton of ordinary house coals will produce between a fourth and a half of a bushel of soot[59]. Now there are, say, 3,500,000 tons of coal consumed annually in London; but a large proportion of this quantity is used for the purposes of gas, for factories, breweries, chemical works, and steam-boats. The consumption of coal for the making of gas in London, in 1849, was 380,000 tons; so that, including the quantity used in factories, breweries, &c., we may, perhaps, estimate the domestic consumption of the metropolis at 2,500,000 tons yearly, which, for 300,000 houses, would give eight tons per house. And when we remember the amount used in large houses and in hotels, as well as by the smaller houses, where each room often contains a different family, this does not appear to be too high an average. Mr. M’Culloch estimates the domestic consumption at one ton per head, men, women, and children; and since the number of persons to each house in London is 7·5, this would give nearly the same result. Estimating the yield of soot to be three-eighths of a bushel per ton, we have, in round numbers, 1,000,000 bushels of soot as the gross quantity deposited in the metropolitan chimneys every year.

Or, to check the estimate another way, there are 350 master sweepers throughout London. A master sweeper in a “large way of business” collects, I am informed, one day with another, from 30 to 40 bushels of soot; on the other hand, a small master, or “single-handed” chimney-sweeper is able to gather only about 5 bushels, and scarcely that. One master sweeper said that about 10 bushels a day would, he thought, be a fair average quantity for all the masters, reckoning one day with another; so that at this rate we should have 1,095,500 bushels for the gross quantity of soot annually collected throughout the metropolis.

We may therefore assume the aggregate yield of soot throughout London to be 1,000,000 bushels per annum. Now what is done with this immense mass of refuse matter? Of what use is it?

The soot is purchased from the masters, whose perquisite it is, by the farmers and dealers. It is used by them principally for meadow land, and frequently for land where wheat is grown; not so much, I understand, as a manure, as for some quality in it which destroys slugs and other insects injurious to the crops[60]. Lincolnshire is one of the great marts for the London soot, whither it is transported by railway. In Hertfordshire, Cambridge, Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex, and Kent, however, and many other parts, London soot is used in large quantities; there are persons who have large stores for its reception, who purchase it from the master sweepers, and afterwards sell it to the farmers and send it as per order, to its destination. These are generally the manure-merchants, of whom the Post-Office Directory gives 26 names, eight being marked as dealers in guano. I was told by a sweeper in a large way of business that he thought these men bought from a half to three-quarters of the soot; the remainder being bought by the land-cultivators in the neighbourhood of London. Soot is often used by gardeners to keep down the insects which infest their gardens.

* * * * *

The value of the Soot collected throughout London is the next subject to engage our attention. Many sweepers have represented it as a very curious fact, and one for which they could advance no sufficient reason, that the price of a bushel of soot was regulated by the price of the quartern loaf, so that you had only to know that the quartern loaf was 5_d._ to know that such was the price of a bushel of soot. This, however, is hardly the case at present; the price of the quartern loaf (not regarding the “seconds,” or inferior bread), is now, at the end of December, 1851, 5_d._ to 6_d._ according to quality. The price of soot per bushel is but 5_d._, and sometimes but 4-1/2_d._, but 5_d._ may be taken as an average.

Now 1,000,000 bushels of soot, at 5_d._, will be found to yield 20,833_l._ 6_s._ 8_d._ per annum. But the whole of this quantity is not collected by the chimney-sweepers, for many of the poorer persons seldom have their chimneys swept; and by the table given in another place, it will be seen that not more than 800,000 bushels are obtained in the course of the year by the London “sweeps.” Hence we may say, that there are 800,000 bushels of soot annually collected from the London chimneys, and that this is worth not less than 16,500_l._ per annum.

* * * * *

The next question is, how many people are employed in collecting this quantity of refuse matter, and how do they collect it, and what do they get, individually and collectively, for so doing?

To begin with the number of master and journeymen sweepers employed in removing these 800,000 bushels of soot from our chimneys: according to the Census returns, the number of “sweeps” in the metropolis in the years 1841 and 1831 were as follows:--

Increase in ten Chimney-sweepers. 1841. 1831. years. Males, 20 years and upwards 619 421 198 „ under 20 years 370 no returns. Females, 20 years & upwards 44 „ ----- 1033

But these returns, such as they are, include both employers and employed, in one confused mass. To disentangle the economical knot, we must endeavour to separate the number of master sweepers from the journeymen. According to the Post-Office Directory the master sweepers amount to no more than 32, and thus there would be one more than 1000 for the number of the metropolitan journeymen sweepers; these statements, however, appear to be very wide of the truth.

In 1816 it was represented to the House of Commons, that there were within the bills of mortality, 200 masters, all--except the “great gentlemen,” as one witness described them, who were about 20 in number--themselves working at the business, and that they had 150 journeymen and upwards of 500 apprentices, so that there must then have been 850 working sweepers altogether, young and old.

These numbers, it must be borne in mind, were comprised in the limits of the bills of mortality 34 years ago. The parishes in the old bills of mortality were 148; there are now in the metropolis proper 176, and, as a whole, the area is much more densely covered with dwelling-houses. Taking but the last ten years, 1841 to 1851, the inhabited houses have increased from 262,737 to 307,722, or, in round numbers, 45,000.

Now in 1811 the number of inhabited houses in the metropolis was 146,019, and in 1821 it was 164,948; hence in 1816 we may assume the inhabited houses to have been about 155,000; and since this number required 850 working sweepers to cleanse the London chimneys, it is but a rule of three sum to find how many would have been required for the same purpose in 1841, when the inhabited houses had increased to 262,737; this, according to Cocker, is about 1400; so that we must come to the conclusion either that the number of working sweepers had not kept pace with the increase of houses, or that the returns of the census were as defective in this respect as we have found them to be concerning the street-sellers, dustmen, and scavagers. Were we to pursue the same mode of calculation, we should find that if 850 sweepers were required to cleanse the chimneys of 155,000 houses, there should be 1687 such labourers in London now that the houses are 307,722 in number.

But it will be seen that in 1816 more than one-half (or 500 out of 850) of the working chimney-sweepers were apprentices, and in 1841 the chimney-sweepers under 20 years of age, if we are to believe the census, constituted more than one-third of the whole body (or 370 out of 1033). Now as the use of climbing boys was prohibited in 1842, of course this large proportion of the trade has been rendered useless; so that, estimating the master and journeymen sweepers at 250 in 1816, it would appear that about 500 would be required to sweep the chimneys of the metropolis at present. To these, of course, must be added the extra number of journeymen necessary for managing the machines. And considering the journeymen to have increased threefold since the abolition of the climbing boys, we must add 300 to the above number, which will make the sum total of the individuals employed in this trade to amount to very nearly 800.

By inquiries throughout the several districts of the metropolis, I find that there are altogether 350 master sweepers at present in London; 106 of these are large masters, who seldom go out on a round, but work to order, having a regular custom among the more wealthy classes; while the other 244 consist of 92 small masters and 152 “single-handed” masters, who travel on various rounds, both in London and the suburbs, seeking custom. Of the whole number, 19 reside within the City boundaries; from 90 to 100 live on the Surrey side, and 235 on the Middlesex side of the Thames (without the City boundaries). A large master employs from 2 to 10 men, and 2 boys; and a small one only 2 men or sometimes 1 man and a boy, while a single-handed master employs no men nor boys at all, but does all the work himself.

The 198 masters employ among them 12 foremen, 399 journeymen, and 62 boys, or 473 hands, and adding to them the single-handed master-men who work at the business themselves, we have 823 working men in all; so that, on the whole, there are not less than between 800 and 900 persons employed in cleansing the London chimneys of their soot.

The next point that presents itself in due order to the mind is, as to the mode of working among the chimney-sweepers; that is to say, how are the 800,000 bushels of soot collected from the 300,000 houses by these 820 working sweepers? But this involves a short history of the trade.

OF THE SWEEPERS OF OLD, AND THE CLIMBING BOYS.

Formerly the chimneys used to be cleansed by the house servants, for a person could easily stand erect in the huge old-fashioned constructions, and thrust up a broom as far as his strength would permit. Sometimes, however, straw was kindled at the mouth of the chimney, and in that way the soot was consumed or brought down to the ground by the action of the fire. But that there were also regular chimney-sweepers in the latter part of the sixteenth century is unquestionable; for in the days of the First James and Charles, poor Piedmontese, and more especially Savoyards, resorted to England for the express purpose. How long they laboured in this vocation is unknown. The Savoyards, indeed, were then the general showmen and sweeps of Europe, and so they are still in some of the cities of Italy and France.

As regards the first introduction of English children into chimneys--the establishment of the use of climbing boys--nothing appears, according to the representations made to Parliament on several occasions, to be known; and little attention seems to have been paid to the condition of these infants--some were but little better--until about 1780, when the benevolent Jonas Hanway, who is said, but not uncontradictedly, to have been the first person who regularly used an umbrella in the streets of London, called public attention to the matter. In 1788 Mr. Hanway and others brought a bill into Parliament for the better protection of the climbing boys, requiring, among other provisions, all master sweepers to be licensed, and the names and ages of all their apprentices registered. The House of Lords, however, rejected this bill, and the 28th George III., c. 48, was passed in preference. The chief alterations sought to be effected by the new Act were, that no sweeper should have more than six apprentices, and that no boy should be apprenticed at a tenderer age than eight years. Previously there were no restrictions in either of those respects.

These provisions were, however, very generally violated. By one of those “flaws” or omissions, so very common and so little creditable to our legislation, it was found that there was no prohibition to a sweeper’s employing his own children at what age he pleased; and “some,” or “several,” for I find both words used, employed their sons, and occasionally their daughters, in chimney climbing at the ages of six, five, and even between four and five years! The children of others, too, were continually being apprenticed at illegal ages, for no inquiry was made into the lad’s age beyond the statement of his parents, or, in the case of parish apprentices, beyond the (in those days) not more trustworthy word of the overseers. Thus boys of six were apprenticed--for apprenticeship was almost universal--as boys of eight, by their parents; while parish officers and magistrates consigned the workhouse orphans, as a thing of course, to the starvation and tyranny which they must have known were very often in store for them when apprenticed to sweepers.

The following evidence was adduced before Parliament on the subject of infant labour in this trade:--

Mr. John Cook, a master sweeper, then of Great Windmill-street and Kentish-town, the first who persevered in the use of the machine years before its use was compulsory, stated that it was common for parents in the business to employ their own children, under the age of seven, in climbing; and that as far as he knew, he himself was only between six and seven when he “came to it;” and that almost all master sweepers had got it in their bills that they kept “small boys for register-stoves, and such like as that.”

Mr. T. Allen, another master sweeper, was between four and five when articled to an uncle.

Mr. B. M. Forster, a private gentleman, a member of the “Committee to promote the Superseding of Climbing Boys,” said, “Some are put to the employment very young; one instance of which occurred to a child in the neighbourhood of Shoreditch, who was put to the trade at four and a quarter years, or thereabouts. The father of a child in Whitechapel told me last week, that his son began climbing when he was four years and eight months old. I have heard of some still younger, but only from vague report.”

This sufficiently proves at what infantine years children were exposed to toils of exceeding painfulness. The smaller and the more slenderly formed the child, the more valuable was he for the sweeping of flues, the interior of some of them, to be ascended and swept, being but seven inches square.

I have mentioned the employment of female children in the very unsuitable labour of climbing chimneys. The following is all the information given on the subject.

Mr. Tooke was asked, “Have you ever heard of female children being so employed?” and replied, “I have heard of cases at Hadley, Barnet, Windsor, and Uxbridge; and I know a case at Witham, near Colchester, of that sort.”

Mr. B. M. Foster said, “Another circumstance, which has not been mentioned to the Committee, is, that there are several little girls employed; there are two of the name of Morgan at Windsor, daughters of the chimney-sweeper who is employed to sweep the chimneys of the Castle; another instance at Uxbridge, and at Brighton, and at Whitechapel (which was some years ago), and at Headley near Barnet, and Witham in Essex, and elsewhere.” He then stated, on being asked, “Do you not think that girls were employed from their physical form being smaller and thinner than boys, and therefore could get up narrower flues?” “The reason that I have understood was, because their parents had not a sufficient number of boys to bring up to the business.” Mr. Foster did not know the ages of these girls.

The inquiry by a Committee of the House of Commons, which led more than any other to the prohibition of this infant and yet painful labour in chimney-sweeping, was held in 1817, and they recommended the “preventing the further use of climbing boys in sweeping of chimneys;” a recommendation not carried into effect until 1832. The matter was during the interval frequently agitated in Parliament, but there were no later investigations by Committees.

I will adduce, specifically, the grievances, according to the Report of 1817, of the climbing boys; but will first present the following extract from the evidence of Mr. W. Tooke, a gentleman who, in accordance with the Hon. Henry Grey Bennet, M.P., and others, exerted himself on the behoof of the climbing boys. When he gave his evidence, Mr. Tooke was the secretary to a society whose object was to supersede the necessity of employing climbing boys. He said:--

“In the year 1800, the Society for Bettering the Condition of the Poor took up the subject, but little or nothing appears to have been done upon that occasion, except that the most respectable master chimney-sweepers entered into an association and subscription for promoting the cleanliness and health of the boys in their respective services. The Institution of which I am treasurer, and which is now existing, was formed in February, 1803. In consequence of an anonymous advertisement, a large meeting was held at the London Coffee House, and the Society was established; immediate steps were then taken to ascertain the state of the trade; inspectors were appointed to give an account of all the master chimney-sweepers within the bills of mortality, their general character, their conduct towards their apprentices, and the number of those apprentices. It was ascertained, that the total number of master chimney-sweepers, within the bills of mortality, might be estimated at 200, who had among them 500 apprentices; that not above 20 of those masters were reputable tradesmen in easy circumstances, who appeared generally to conform to the provisions of the Act; and which 20 had, upon an average, from four to five apprentices each. We found about 90 of an inferior class of master chimney-sweepers who averaged three apprentices each, and who were extremely negligent both of the health, morals, and education of those apprentices; and about 90, the remainder of the 200 masters, were a class of chimney-sweepers recently journeymen, who took up the trade because they had no other resource; they picked up boys as they could, who lodged with themselves in huts, sheds, and cellars, in the outskirts of the town, occasionally wandering into the villages round, where they slept on soot-bags, and lived in the grossest filth.”

The grievances I have spoken of were thus summed up by the Parliamentary Committee. After referring to the ill-usage and hardships sustained by the climbing boys (the figures being now introduced for the sake of distinctness) it is stated:--

“It is in evidence that (1) they are stolen from” [and sold by] “their parents, and inveigled out of workhouses; (2) that in order to conquer the natural repugnance of the infants to ascend the narrow and dangerous chimneys to clean which their labour is required, blows are used; that pins are forced into their feet by the boy that follows them up the chimney, in order to compel them to ascend it, and that lighted straw has been applied for that purpose; (3) that the children are subject to sores and bruises, and wounds and burns on their thighs, knees, and elbows; and that it will require many months before the extremities of the elbows and knees become sufficiently hard to resist the excoriations to which they are at first subject.”

1. With regard to the stealing or kidnapping of children--for there was often a difficulty in procuring climbing boys--I find mention in the evidence, as of a matter, but not a very frequent matter, of notoriety. One stolen child was sold to a master sweeper for 8_l._ 8_s._ Mr. G. Revely said:--

“I wish to state to the Committee that case in particular, because it comes home to the better sort of persons in higher life. It seems that the child, upon being asked various questions, had been taken away: the child was questioned how he came into that situation; he said all that he could recollect was (as I heard it told at that time) that he and his sister, with another brother, were together somewhere, but he could not tell where; but not being able to run so well as the other two, he was caught by a woman and carried away and was sold, and came afterwards into the hands of a chimney-sweeper. He was not afterwards restored to his family, and the mystery was never unravelled; but he was advertised, and a lady took charge of him.

“This child, in 1804, was forced up a chimney at Bridlington in Yorkshire, by a big boy, the younger boy being apparently but four years old. He fell and bruised his legs terribly against the grate. The Misses Auckland of Boynton, who had heard of the child, and went to see him, became interested by his manners, and they took him home with them; the chimney-sweeper, who perhaps got alarmed, being glad to part with him. Soon after he got to Boynton, the seat of Sir George Strickland, a plate with something to eat was brought him; on seeing a silver fork he was quite delighted, and said, ‘Papa had such forks as those.’ He also said the carpet in the drawing-room was like papa’s; the housekeeper showed him a silver watch, he asked what sort it was--‘Papa’s was a gold watch;’ he then pressed the handle and said, ‘Papa’s watch rings, why does not yours?’ Sir George Strickland, on being told this circumstance, showed him a gold repeater, the little boy pressed the spring, and when it struck, he jumped about the room, saying, ‘Papa’s watch rings so.’ At night, when he was going to bed, he said he could not go to bed until he had said his prayers; he then repeated the Lord’s Prayer, almost perfectly. The account he gave of himself was that he was gathering flowers in his mamma’s garden, and that the woman who sold him to the sweeper, came in and asked him if he liked riding? He said, ‘Yes,’ and she told him he should ride with her. She put him on a horse, after which they got into a vessel, and the sails were put up, ‘and away we went.’ He had no recollection of his name, or where he lived, and was too young to think his father could have any other name than that of papa. He started whenever he heard a servant in the family at Boynton called George, and looked as if he expected to see somebody he knew; on inquiry, he said he had an uncle George, whom he loved dearly. He says his mamma is dead, and it is thought his father may be abroad. From many things he says, he seems to have lived chiefly with an uncle and aunt, whom he invariably says were called Mr. and Mrs. Flembrough. From various circumstances, it is thought impossible he should be the child of the woman who sold him, his manners being ‘very civilized,’ quite those of a child well educated; his dialect is good, and that of the south of England. This little boy, when first discovered, was conjectured to be about four years old, and is described as having beautiful black eyes and eye-lashes, a high nose, and a delicate soft skin.”

Mr. J. Harding, a master sweeper, had a fellow apprentice who had been enticed away from his parents. “It is a case of common occurrence,” he said, “for children stolen, to be employed in this way. Yes, and children in particular are enticed out of workhouses: there are a great many who come out of workhouses.”

The following cases were also submitted to the Committee:--

“A poor woman had been obliged by sickness to go into an hospital, and while she was there her child was stolen from her house, taken into Staffordshire, and there apprenticed to a chimney-sweeper. By some happy circumstance she learned his fate; she followed him, and succeeded in rescuing him from his forlorn situation. Another child, who was an orphan, was tricked into following the same wretched employment by a chimney-sweeper, who gave him a shilling, and made him believe that by receiving it he became his apprentice; the poor boy, either discovering or suspecting that he had been deceived, anxiously endeavoured to speak to a magistrate who happened to come to the house in which he was sweeping chimneys, but his master watched him so closely that he could not succeed. He at last contrived to tell his story to a blind soldier, who determined to right the poor boy, and by great exertions succeeded in procuring him his liberty.”

It was in country places, however, that the stealing and kidnapping of children was the most frequent, and the threat of “the sweeps will get you” was often held out, to deter children from wandering. These stolen infants, it is stated, were usually conveyed to some distance by the vagrants who had secured them, and sold to some master sweeper, being apprenticed as the child of the vendors, for it was difficult for sweepers in thinly-peopled places to get a supply of climbing boys. It was shown about the time of the Parliamentary inquiry, in the course of a trial at the Lancaster assizes, that a boy had been apprenticed to a sweeper by two travelling tinkers, man and woman, who informed him that the child was stolen from another “traveller,” 80 miles away, who was “too fond of it to make it a sweep.” The price of the child was not mentioned.

Respecting the sale of children to be apprentices to sweepers, Mr. Tooke was able to state that, although in 1816, the practice had very much diminished of late, parents in many instances still sold their children for three, four, or five guineas. This sum was generally paid under the guise of an apprentice fee, but it was known to be and was called a “sale,” for the parents, real or nominal, never interfered with the master subsequently, but left the infant to its fate.

2. I find the following account of the means resorted to, in order to induce, or more frequently compel, these wretched infants to work.

The boy in the first instance went for a month, or any term agreed upon, “on trial,” or “to see how he would suit for the business.” During this period of probation he was usually well treated and well fed (whatever the character of the master), with little to do beyond running errands, and observing the mode of work of the experienced climbers. When, however, he was “bound” as an apprentice, he was put with another lad who had been for some time at the business. The new boy was sent first up the chimney, and immediately followed by the other, who instructed him how to ascend. This was accomplished by the pressure of the knees and the elbows against the sides of the flue. By pressing the knees tightly the child managed to raise his arms somewhat higher, and then by pressing his elbows in like manner he contrived to draw up his legs, and so on. The inside of the flue presented a smooth surface, and there were no inequalities where the fingers or toes could be inserted. Should the young beginner fall, he was sure to light on the shoulders of the boy beneath him, who always kept himself firmly fixed in expectation of such a mishap, and then the novice had to commence anew; in this manner the twain reached the top by degrees, sweeping down the soot, and descended by the same method. This practice was very severe, especially on new boys, whose knees and elbows were torn by the pressure and the slipping down continually--the skin being stripped off, and frequently breaking out in frightful sores, from the constant abrasions, and from the soot and dirt getting into them.

In his evidence before Parliament in 1817 (for there had been previous inquiries), Mr. Cook gave an account of the training of these boys, and on being asked:--“Do the elbows and knees of the boys, when they first begin the business, become very sore, and afterwards get callous, and are those boys employed in sweeping chimneys during the soreness of those parts?” answered, “It depends upon the sort of master they have got; some are obliged to put them to work sooner than others; you must keep them a little at it, or they will never learn their business, even during the sores.” He stated further, that the skin broke generally, and that the boys could not ascend chimneys during the sores without very great pain. “The way that I learn boys is,” he continued, “to put some cloths over their elbows and over their knees till they get the nature of the chimney--till they get a little used to it: we call it padding them, and then we take them off, and they get very little grazed indeed after they have got the art; but very few will take that trouble. Some boys’ flesh is far worse than others, and it takes more time to harden them.” He was then asked:--“Do those persons still continue to employ them to climb chimneys?” and the answer was: “Some do; it depends upon the character of the master. None of them of that class keep them till they get well; none. They are obliged to climb with those sores upon them. I never had one of my own apprentices do that.” This system of padding, however, was but little practised; but in what proportion it was practised, unless by the respectable masters, who were then but few in number, the Parliamentary papers, the only information on the subject now attainable, do not state. The inference is, that the majority, out of but 20 of these masters, with some 80 or 100 apprentices, did treat them well, and what was so accounted. The customary way of training these boys, then, was such as I have described; some even of the better masters, whose boys were in the comparison well lodged and fed, and “sent to the Sunday school” (which seems to have comprised all needful education), considered “padding and such like” to be “new-fangled nonsense.”

I may add also, that although the boy carried up a brush with him, it was used but occasionally, only when there were “turns” or defects in the chimney, the soot being brought down by the action of the shoulders and limbs. The climber wore a cap to protect his eyes and mouth from the soot, and a sort of flannel tunic, his feet, legs, and arms being bare. Some of these lads were surprisingly quick. One man told me that, when in his prime as a climbing boy, he could reach the top of a chimney about as quickly as a person could go up stairs to the attics.

The following is from the evidence of Mr. Cook, frequently cited as an excellent master:--

“What mode do you adopt to get the boy to go up the chimney in the first instance?--We persuade him as well as we can; we generally practise him in one of our own chimneys first; one of the boys who knows the trade goes up behind him, and when he has practised it perhaps ten times, though some will require twenty times, they generally can manage it. The boy goes up with him to keep him from falling; after that, the boy will manage to go up with himself, after going up and down several times with one under him: we do this, because if he happens to make a slip he will be caught by the other.

“Do you find many boys show repugnance to go up at first?--Yes, most of them.

“And if they resist and reject, in what way do you force them up?--By telling them we must take them back again to their father and mother, and give them up again; and their parents are generally people who cannot maintain them.

“So that they are afraid of going back to their parents for fear of being starved?--Yes; they go through a deal of hardship before they come to our trade.

“Did you use any more violent means?--Sometimes a rod.

“Did you ever hear of straw being lighted under them?--Never.

“You never heard of any means being made use of, except being beat and being sent home?--No; no other.

“You are aware, of course, that those means being gentle or harsh must depend very much upon the character of the individual master?--It does.

“Of course you must know that there are persons of harsh and cruel disposition; have you not often heard of masters treating their apprentices with great cruelty, particularly the little boys, in forcing them to go up those small flues, which the boys were unwilling to ascend?--Yes; I have forced up many a one myself.

“By what means?--By threatenings, and by giving them a kick or a slap.”

It was also stated that the journeymen used the boys with greater cruelty than did the masters--indeed a delegated tyranny is often the worst--that for very little faults they kicked and slapped the children, and sometimes flogged them with a cat, “made of rope, hard at each end, and as thick as your thumb.”

Mr. John Fisher, a master chimney-sweeper, said:--“Many masters, are very severe with their children. To make them go up the chimneys I have seen them make them strip themselves naked; I have been obliged myself to go up a chimney naked.”

As respects the cruelties of driving boys up chimneys by kindling straw beneath their feet, or thrusting pins into the soles of their feet, I find the following statements given on the authority of B. M. Forster, Esq., a private gentleman residing in Walthamstow:--

“A lad was ordered to sweep a chimney at Wandsworth; he came down after endeavouring to ascend, and this occurred several times before he gave up the point; at last the journeyman took some straw or hay, and lighted it under him to drive him up: when he endeavoured to get up the last time, he found there was a bar across the chimney, which he could not pass; he was obliged in consequence to come down, and the journeyman beat him so cruelly, to use his own expression, that he could not stand for a fortnight.

“In the whole city of Norwich I could find only nine climbing boys, two of whom I questioned on many particulars; one was with respect to the manner in which they are taught to climb; they both agreed in that particular, that a larger boy was sent up behind them to prick their feet, if they did not climb properly. I purposely avoided mentioning about pricking them with pins, but asked them how they did it; they said that they thrust the pins into the soles of their feet. A third instance occurred at Walthamstow; a man told me that some he knew had been taught in the same way; I believe it to be common, but I cannot state any more instances from authority.”

3. On the subject of the sores, bruises, wounds, burns, and diseases, to which chimney-sweepers in their apprenticeships were not only exposed, but, as it were, condemned, Mr. R. Wright, a surgeon, on being examined before the Committee, said, “I shall begin with Deformity. I am well persuaded that the deformity of the spine, legs, arms, &c., of chimney-sweepers, generally, if not wholly, proceeds from the circumstance of their being obliged not only to go up chimneys at an age when their bones are in a soft and growing state, but likewise from their being compelled by their too merciless masters and mistresses to carry bags of soot (and those very frequently for a great length of distance and time) by far too heavy for their tender years and limbs. The knees and ancle joints mostly become deformed, in the first instance, from the position they are obliged to put them in, in order to support themselves, not only while climbing up the chimney, but more particularly so in that of coming down, when they rest solely on the lower extremities.

“Sore eyes and eyelids, are the next to be considered. Chimney-sweepers are very subject to inflammation of the eyelids, and not unfrequently weakness of sight, in consequence of such inflammation. This I attribute to the circumstance of the soot lodging on the eyelids, which first produces irritability of the part, and the constantly rubbing them with their dirty hands, instead of alleviating, increases the disease; for I have observed in a number of cases, when the patient has ceased for a time to follow the business, and of course the original cause has been removed, that with washing and keeping clean they were soon got well.

“Sores, for the same reasons, are generally a long time in healing.

“Cancer is another and a most formidable disease, which chimney-sweepers in particular are liable to, especially that of the scrotum; from which circumstance, by way of distinction, it is called the ‘chimney-sweeper’s cancer.’ Of this sort of cancer I have seen several instances, some of which have been operated on; but, in general, they are apt to let them go too far before they apply for relief. Cancers of the lips are not so general as cancers of the scrotum. I never saw but two instances of the former, and several of the latter.”

The “chimney-sweep’s cancer” was always lectured upon as a separate disease at Guy’s and Bartholomew’s Hospitals, and on the question being put to Mr. Wright: “Do the physicians who are intrusted with the care and management of those hospitals think that disease of such common occurrence, that it is necessary to make it a part of surgical education?”--he replied: “Most assuredly; I remember Mr. Cline and Mr. Cooper were particular on that subject; and having one or two cases of the kind in the hospital, it struck my mind very forcibly. With the permission of the Committee I will relate a case that occurred lately, which I had from one of the pupils of St. Thomas’s Hospital; he informed me that they recently had a case of a chimney-sweeper’s cancer, which was to have been operated on that week, but the man ‘brushed’ (to use their expression) or rather walked off; he would not submit to the operation: similar instances of which I have known myself. They dread so much the knife, in consequence of foolish persons telling them it is so formidable an operation, and that they will die under it. I conceive without the operation it is death; for cancers are of that nature that unless you extricate them entirely they will never be cured.”

Of the chimney-sweeper’s cancer, the following statement is given in the Report: “Mr. Cline informed your Committee by letter, that this disease is rarely seen in any other persons than chimney-sweepers, and in them cannot be considered as frequent; for during his practice in St. Thomas’s hospital, for more than 40 years, the number of those could not exceed 20. But your Committee have been informed that the dread of the operation which it is necessary to perform, deters many from submitting to it; and from the evidence of persons engaged in the trade, it appears to be much more common than Mr. Cline seems to be aware of.

“Cough and Asthma.--Chimney-sweepers are, from their being out at all hours and in all weathers, very liable to cough and inflammation of the chest.

“Burns.--They are very subject to burns, from their being forced up chimneys while on fire, or soon after they have been on fire, and while over-heated; and however they may cry out, their inhuman masters pay not the least attention, but compel them, too often with horrid imprecations, to proceed.

“Stunted growth, in this unfortunate race of the community, is attributed, in a great measure, to their being brought into the business at a very early age.”

* * * * *

To accidents they were frequently liable in the pursuit of their callings, and sometimes these accidents were the being jammed or fixed, or, as it was called in the trade, “stuck,” in narrow and heated flues, sometimes for hours, and until death.

Among these hapless lads were indeed many deaths from accidents, cruelty, privation, and exhaustion, but it does not appear that the number was ever ascertained. There were also many narrow escapes from dreadful deaths. I give instances of each:--

“On Monday morning, the 29th of March, 1813, a chimney-sweeper of the name of Griggs, attended to sweep a small chimney in the brewhouse of Messrs. Calvert and Co., in Upper Thames-street; he was accompanied by one of his boys, a lad of about eight years of age, of the name of Thomas Pitt. The fire had been lighted as early as two o’clock the same morning, and was burning on the arrival of Griggs and his little boy at eight; the fire-place was small, and an iron pipe projected from the grate some little distance, into the flue; this the master was acquainted with (having swept the chimneys in the brewhouse for some years) and therefore had a tile or two taken from the roof, in order that the boy might descend the chimney. He had no sooner extinguished the fire than he suffered the lad to go down; and the consequence, as might be expected, was his almost immediate death, in a state, no doubt, of inexpressible agony. The flue was of the narrowest description, and must have retained heat sufficient to have prevented the child’s return to the top, even supposing he had not approached the pipe belonging to the grate, which must have been nearly red-hot; this, however, was not clearly ascertained on the inquest, though the appearance of the body would induce an opinion that he had been unavoidably pressed against the pipe. Soon after his descent, the master, who remained on the top, was apprehensive that something had happened, and therefore desired him to come up; the answer of the boy was, ‘I cannot come up, master; I must die here.’ An alarm was given in the brewhouse, immediately, that he had stuck in the chimney, and a bricklayer who was at work near the spot attended, and after knocking down part of the brickwork of the chimney, just above the fire-place, made a hole sufficiently large to draw him through. A surgeon attended, but all attempts to restore life were ineffectual. On inspecting the body, various burns appeared; the fleshy part of the legs, and a great part of the feet more particularly, were injured; those parts, too, by which climbing boys most effectually ascend or descend chimneys, viz., the elbows and knees, seemed burnt to the bone; from which it must be evident that the unhappy sufferer made some attempts to return as soon as the horrors of his situation became apparent.”

“In the improvement made some years since by the Bank of England, in Lothbury, a chimney, belonging to a Mr. Mildrum, a baker, was taken down, but before he began to bake, in order to see that the rest of the flue was clear, a boy was sent up, and after remaining some time, and not answering to the call of his master, another boy was ordered to descend from the top of the flue and to meet him half-way; but this being found impracticable, they opened the brickwork in the lower part of the flue, and found the first-mentioned boy dead. In the mean time the boy in the upper part of the flue called out for relief, saying, he was completely jammed in the rubbish and was unable to extricate himself. Upon this a bricklayer was employed with the utmost expedition, but he succeeded only in obtaining a lifeless body. The bodies were sent to St. Margaret’s Church, Lothbury, and a coroner’s inquest, which sat upon them, returned the verdict--Accidental Death.”

“In the beginning of the year 1808, a chimney-sweeper’s boy being employed to sweep a chimney in Marsh-street, Walthamstow, in the house of Mr. Jeffery, carpenter, unfortunately, in his attempt to get down, stuck in the flue and was unable to extricate himself. Mr. Jeffery, being within hearing of the boy, immediately procured assistance. As the chimney was low, and the top of it easily accessible from without, the boy was taken out in about ten minutes, the chimney-pot and several rows of bricks having been previously removed; if he had remained in that dreadful situation many minutes longer, he must have died. His master was sent for, and he arrived soon after the boy had been released; he abused him for the accident, and, after striking him, sent him with a bag of soot to sweep another chimney. The child appeared so very weak when taken out that he could scarcely stand, and yet this wretched being, who had been up ever since three o’clock, had before been sent by his master to Wanstead, which with his walk to Marsh-street made about five miles.”

“In May, 1817, a boy employed in sweeping a chimney in Sheffield got wedged fast in one of the flues, and remained in that situation near two hours before he could be extricated, which was at length accomplished by pulling down part of the chimney.”

On one occasion a child remained above two hours in some danger in a chimney, rather than venture down and encounter his master’s anger. The man was held to bail, which he could not procure.

As in the cases I have described (at Messrs. Calvert’s, and in Lothbury), the verdict was usually “Accidental Death,” or something equivalent.

It was otherwise, however, where wilful cruelty was proven.

The following case was a subject of frequent comment at the time:--

“On Friday, 31st May, 1816, William Moles and Sarah his wife, were tried at the Old Bailey for the wilful murder of John Hewley, alias Haseley, a boy about six years of age, in the month of April last, by cruelly beating him. Under the direction of the learned judge, they were acquitted of the crime of murder, but the husband was detained to take his trial as for a misdemeanor, of which he was convicted upon the fullest evidence, and sentenced to two years’ imprisonment. The facts, as proved in this case, are too shocking in detail to relate: the substance of them is, that he was forced up the chimney on the shoulder of a bigger boy, and afterwards violently pulled down again by the leg and dashed upon a marble hearth; his leg was thus broken, and death ensued in a few hours, and on his body and knees were found scars arising from wounds of a much older date.”

* * * * *

This long-continued system of cruelties, of violations of public and private duties, bore and ripened its natural fruits. The climbing boys grew up to be unhealthy, vicious, ignorant, and idle men, for during their apprenticeships their labour was over early in the day, and they often passed away their leisure in gambling in the streets with one another and other children of their stamp, as they frequently had halfpence given to them. They played also at “chuck and toss” with the journeymen, and of course were stripped of every farthing. Thus they became indolent and fond of excitement. When a lad ceased to be an apprentice, although he might be but 16, he was too big to climb, and even if he got employment as a journeyman, his remuneration was wretched, only 2_s._ a week, with his board and lodging. There were, however, far fewer complaints of being insufficiently fed than might have been expected, but the sleeping places were execrable: “They sleep in different places,” it was stated, “sometimes in sheds, and sometimes in places which we call barracks (large rooms), or in the cellar (where the soot was kept); some never sleep upon anything that can be called a bed; some do.”

Mr. T. Allen, a master sweep for 22 years, gave the Committee the following account of the men’s earnings and (what may be called) the General Perquisites of the trade under the exploded system:--

“If a man be 25 years of age, he has no more than 2_s._ a week; he is not clothed, only fed and lodged in the same manner as the boys. The 2_s._ a week is not sufficient to find him clothes and other necessaries, certainly not; it is hardly enough to find him with shoe-leather, for they walk over a deal of ground in going about the streets. The journeyman is able to live upon those wages, for he gets halfpence given him: supposing he is 16 or 20 years of age, he gets the boys’ pence from them and keeps it; and if he happens to get a job for which he receives a 1_s._, he gets 6_d._ of that, and his master the other 6_d._ The boys’ pence are what the boys get after they have been doing their master’s work; they get a 1_d._ or so, and the journeyman takes it from them, and ‘licks’ them if they do not give it up.” [These “jobs,” after the master’s work had been done, were chance jobs, as when a journeyman on his round was called on by a stranger, and unexpectedly, to sweep a chimney. Sometimes, by arrangement of the journeyman and the lad, the proceeds never reached the master’s pocket. Sometimes, but rarely, such jobs were the journeyman’s rightful perquisite.] “Men,” proceeds Mr. Allen, “who are 22 and 23 years of age will play with the young boys and win their money. That is, they get half the money from them by force, and the rest by fraud. They are driven to this course from the low wages which the masters give them, because they have no other means to get anything for themselves, not even the few necessaries which they may want; for even what they want to wash with they must get themselves. As to what becomes of the money the boys get on May-day, when they are in want of clothes, the master will buy them, as check shirts or handkerchiefs. These masters get a share of the money which the boys collect on May-day. The boys have about 1_s._ or 1_s._ 6_d._; the journeyman has also his share; then the master takes the remainder, which is to buy the boys’ clothes and other necessaries, as they say. I cannot exactly tell what the average amount is that a boy will get on the May-day; the most that my boy ever got was 5_s._ But I think that the boys get more than that; I should think they get as much as 9_s._ or 10_s._ apiece. The Christmas-boxes are generally, I believe, divided among themselves (among the boys); but I cannot say rightly. It is spent in buying silk handkerchiefs, or Sunday shoes, I believe; but I am not perfectly sure.”

Of the condition and lot of the operatives who were too big to go up chimneys, Mr. J. Fisher, a master-sweeper, gave the following account:--“They get into a roving way, and go about from one master to another, and they often come to no good end at last. They sometimes go into the country, and after staying there some time, they come back again; I took a boy of that sort very lately and kept him like my own, and let him go to school; he asked me one Sunday to let him go to school, and I was glad to let him go, and I gave him leave; he accordingly went, and I have seen nothing of him since; before he went he asked me if I would let him come home to see my child buried; I told him to ask his school-master, but he did not come back again. I cannot tell what has become of him; he was to have served me for twelve months. I did not take him from the parish; he came to me. He said his parents were dead. The effect of the roving habit of the large boys when they become too large to climb, is, that they get one with another and learn bad habits from one another; they never will stop long in any one place. They frequently go into the country and get various places; perhaps they stop a month at each; some try to get masters themselves, and some will get into bad company, which very often happens. Then they turn thieves, they get lazy, they won’t work, and people do not like to employ them lest they should take anything out of their houses. The generality of them never settle in any steady business. They generally turn loose characters, and people will not employ them lest they should take anything out of the house.”

The criminal annals of the kingdom bear out the foregoing account. Some of these boys, indeed, when they attained man’s estate, became, in a great measure, through their skill in climbing, expert and enterprising burglars, breaking into places where few men would have cared to venture. One of the most daring feats ever attempted and accomplished was the escape from Newgate by a sweeper about 15 years ago. He climbed by the aid of his knees and elbows a height of nearly 80 feet, though the walls, in the corner of the prison-yard, where this was done, were nearly of an even surface; the slightest slip could not have failed to have precipitated the sweeper to the bottom. He was then under sentence of death for highway robbery.

“His name was Whitehead, and he done a more wonderfuller thing nor that,” remarked an informant, who had been his master. “We was sweeping the bilers in a sugar-house, and he went from the biler up the flue of the chimney, it was nearly as high as the Monument, that chimney; I should say it was 30 or 40 feet higher nor the sugar-house. He got out at the top, and slid down the bare brickwork on the outside, on to the roof of the house, got through an attic window in the roof, and managed to get off without any one knowing what became of him. That was the most wonderfullest thing I ever knowed in my life. I don’t know how he escaped from being killed, but he was always an oudacious feller. It was nearly three months after afore we found him in the country. I don’t know where they sent him to after he was brought back to Newgate, but I hear they made him a turnkey in a prison somewhere, and that he’s doing very well now.” The feat at the sugar-house could be only to escape from his apprenticeship.

In the course of the whole Parliamentary evidence the sweepers, reared under the old climbing system, are spoken of as a “short-lived” race, but no statistics could be given. Some died old men in middle age, in the workhouses. Many were mere vagrants at the time of their death.

I took the statement of a man who had been what he called a “climbing” in his childhood, but as he is now a master-sweeper, and has indeed gone through all grades of the business, I shall give it in my account of the present condition of the sweepers.

Climbing is still occasionally resorted to, especially when repairs are required, “but the climbing boys,” I was told, “are now men.” These are slight dwarfish men, whose services are often in considerable request, and cannot at all times be commanded, as there are only about twenty of them in London, so effectually has climbing been suppressed. These little men, I was told, did pretty well, not unfrequently getting 2_s._ or 2_s._ 6_d._ for a single job.

As regards the labour question, during the existence of the climbing boys, we find in the Report the following results:--

The nominal wages to the journeymen were 2_s._ a week, with board and lodging. The apprentices received no wages, their masters being only required to feed, lodge, and clothe them.

The actual wages were the same as the nominal, with the addition of 1_s._ as perquisites in money. There were other perquisites in liquor or broken meat.

In the Reports are no accounts of the duration of labour throughout the year, nor can I obtain from master-sweepers, who were in the business during the old mode, any sufficient data upon which to found any calculations. The employment, however, seems to have been generally continuous, running through the year, though in the course of the twelvemonth one master would have four and another six different journeymen, but only one at a time. The vagrant propensities of the class is a means of accounting for this.

The nominal wages of those journeymen who resided in their own apartments were generally 14_s._ a week, and their actual about 2_s._ 6_d._ extra in the form of perquisites. Others resided “on the premises,” having the care of the boys, with board and lodgings and 5_s._ a week in money nominally, and 7_s._ 6_d._ actually, the perquisites being worth 2_s._ 6_d._

Concerning the general or average wages of the whole trade, I can only present the following computation.

Mr. Tooke, in his evidence before the House of Commons, stated that the Committee, of which he was a member, had ascertained that one boy on an average swept about four chimneys daily, at prices varying from 6_d._ to 1_s._ 6_d._, or a medium return of about 10_d._ per chimney, exclusive of the soot, then worth 8_d._ or 9_d._ a bushel. “It appears,” he said, “from a datum I have here, that those chimney-sweepers who keep six boys (the greatest number allowed by law) gain, on an average, nearly 270_l._; five boys, 225_l._; four boys, 180_l._; three boys, 135_l._; two boys, 90_l._; and one boy 45_l._ (yearly), exclusive of the soot, which is, I should suppose, upon an average, from half a bushel to a bushel every time the chimney is swept.”

“Out of the profits you mention,” he was then asked, “the master has to maintain the boys?”--“Yes,” was the answer, “and when the expenses of house and cellar rent, and the wages of journeymen, and the maintenance of apprentices, are taken into the account, the number of master chimney-sweepers is not only more than the trade will support, but exceeds, by above one-third, what the public exigency requires. The Committee also ascertained that the 200 master chimney-sweepers in the metropolis were supposed to have in their employment 150 journeymen and 500 boys.”

The matter may be reduced to a tabular form, expressing the amount in money--for it is not asserted that the masters generally gained on the charge for their journeymen’s board and lodging--as follows:--

EXPENDITURE OF MASTER CHIMNEY-SWEEPERS UNDER THE CLIMBING-BOY SYSTEM.

Yearly. 20 journeymen at individual wages, 14_s._ each weekly £780 30 ditto, say 12_s._ weekly 936 100 ditto, 10_s._ ditto 2,600 Board, Lodging, and Clothing of 500 boys, 4_s._ 6_d._ weekly 5,850 Rent, 20 large traders, 10_s._ 520 Do. 30 others, 7_s._ 546 Do. 150 do., 3_s._ 6_d._ 1,365 20 horses (keep), 10_s._ 520 General wear and tear 200 ------- £13,317

It appears that about 180 of the master chimney-sweepers were themselves working men, in the same way as their journeymen.

The following, then, may be taken as the--

YEARLY RECEIPTS OF THE MASTER SWEEPERS UNDER THE CLIMBING-BOY SYSTEM.

Yearly. Payment for sweeping 624,000 chimneys (4 daily, according to evidence before Parliament, by each of 500 boys), 10_d._ per chimney, or yearly £26,000

Soot (according to same account), say 5_d._ per chimney 13,000 ------ Total £39,000 Yearly expenditure 13,317 ------- Yearly profit £25,683

This yielded, then, according to the information submitted to the House of Commons Select Committee, as the profits of the trade prior to 1817, an individual yearly gain to each master sweeper of 128_l._; but, taking Mr. Tooke’s average yearly profit for the six classes of tradesmen, 270_l._, 225_l._, 180_l._, 135_l._, 90_l._, and 45_l._ respectively, the individual profit averages above 157_l._

The capital, I am informed, would not average above two guineas per master sweeper, nothing being wanted beyond a few common sacks, made by the sweepers’ wives, and a few brushes. Only about 20 had horses, but barrows were occasionally hired at a busy time.

In the foregoing estimates I have not included any sums for apprentice fees, as I believe there would be something like a balance in the matter, the masters sometimes paying parents such premiums for the use of their children as they received from the parishes for the tuition and maintenance of others.

Of the morals, education, religion, marriage, &c., of sweepers, under the two systems, I shall speak in another place.

It may be somewhat curious to conclude with a word of the extent of chimneys swept by a climbing boy. One respectable master-sweeper told me that for eleven years he had climbed five or six days weekly. During this period he thought he had swept fifteen chimneys as a week’s average, each chimney being at least 40 feet in height; so traversing, in ascending and descending, 686,400 feet, or 130 miles of a world of soot. This, however, is little to what has been done by a climber of 30 years’ standing, one of the little men of whom I have spoken. My informant entertained no doubt that this man had, for the first 22 years of his career, climbed half as much again as he himself had; or had traversed 2,059,200 feet of the interior of chimneys, or 390 miles. Since the new Act this man had of course climbed less, but had still been a good deal employed; so that, adding his progresses for the last 9 years to the 22 preceding, he must have swept about 456 miles of chimney interiors.

OF THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPERS OF THE PRESENT DAY.

The chimney-sweepers of the present day are distinguished from those of old by the use of machines instead of climbing boys, for the purpose of removing the soot from the flues of houses.

The chimney-sweeping machines were first used in this country in the year 1803. They were the invention of Mr. Smart, a carpenter, residing at the foot of Westminster-bridge, Surrey. On the earlier trials of the machine (which was similar to that used at present, and which I shall shortly describe), it was pronounced successful in 99 cases out of 100, according to some accounts, but failing where sharp angles occurred in the flue, which arrested its progress.

“Means have been suggested,” said Mr. Tooke, formerly mentioned, in his evidence before a Committee of the House of Commons, “for obviating that difficulty by fixed apparatus at the top of the flue with a jack-chain and pulley, by which a brush could be worked up and down, or it could be done as is customary abroad, as I have repeatedly seen it at Petersburgh, and heard of its being done universally on the Continent, by letting down a bullet with a brush attached to it from the top; but to obviate the inconvenience, which is considerable, from persons going upon the roof of a house, Mr. John White, junior, an eminent surveyor, has suggested the expediency of putting iron shutters or registers to each flue, in the roof or cockloft of each house; by opening which, and working the machine upwards and downwards, or letting down the bullet, which is the most compendious manner, the chimney will be most effectually cleansed; and, by its aperture at bottom being kept well closed, it would be done with the least possible dirt and inconvenience to the family.”

The society for the supersedence of the labour of climbing boys promoted the adoption of the machines by all the means in their power, presenting the new instrument gratuitously to several master sweepers who were too poor to purchase it. Experiments were made and duly published as to the effectual manner in which the chimneys at Guildhall, the Mansion House, the then new Custom House, Dulwich College, and in other public edifices, had been cleansed by the machine. But these statements seem to have produced little effect. People thought, perhaps, that the mechanical means which might very well cleanse the chimneys of large public buildings--and it was said that the chimneys of the Custom House were built with a view to the use of the machine--might not be so serviceable for the same purposes in small private dwellings. Experiments continued to be made, often in the presence of architects, of the more respectable sweepers, and of ladies and gentlemen who took a philanthropic interest in the question, between the years 1803 and 1817, but with little influence upon the general public, for in 1817 Mr. Smart supposed that there were but 50 or 60 machines in general use in the metropolis, and those, it appeared from the evidence of several master sweepers, were used chiefly in gentlemen’s houses, many of those gentlemen having to be authoritative with their servants, who, if not controlled, always preferred the services of the climbing boys. Most servants had perquisites from the master sweepers, in the largest and most profitable ways of business, and they seemed to fear the loss of those perquisites if any change took place.

The opposition in Parliament, and in the general indifference of the people, to the efforts of “the friends of the climbing boy” to supersede his painful labours by the use of machinery, was formidable enough, but that of the servants appears to have been more formidable still. Mr. Smart showed this in his explanations to the Committee. The whole result of his experience was that servants set their faces against the introduction of the machine, grumbling if there were not even the appearance of dirt on the furniture after its use. “The first winter I went out with this machine,” said Mr. Smart, “I went to Mr. Burke’s in Token-house Yard, who was a friend of mine, with a man to sweep the chimneys, and after waiting above an hour in a cold morning, the housekeeper came down quite in a rage, that we should presume to ring the bell or knock at the door; and when we got admittance, she swore she wished the machine and the inventor at the devil; she did not know me. We swept all the chimneys, and when we had done I asked her what objection she had to it now; she said, a very serious one, that if there was a thing by which a servant could get any emolument, some d----d invention was sure to take it away from them, for that she received perquisites.”

This avowal of Mr. Burke’s housekeeper, as brusque as it was honest, is typical of the feelings of the whole class of servants.

The opposition in Parliament, as I have intimated, continued. One noble lord informed the House of Peers that he had been indisposed of late and had sought the aid of calomel, the curative influence of which had pervaded every portion of his frame; and that it as far surpassed the less searching powers of other medicines, as the brush of the climbing boy in cleansing every nook and corner of the chimney, surpassed all the power of the machinery, which left the soot unpurged from those nooks and corners.

The House of Commons, however, had expressed its conviction that as long as master chimney-sweepers were permitted to employ climbing boys, the natural result of that permission would be the continuance of those miseries which the Legislature had sought, but which it had failed, to put an end to; and they therefore recommended that the use of climbing boys should be prohibited altogether; and that the age at which the apprenticeship should commence should be extended from eight to fourteen, putting this trade upon the same footing as others which took apprentices at that age.

This resolution became law in 1829. The employment of climbing boys in any manner in the interior of chimneys was prohibited under penalties of fine and imprisonment; and it was enacted that the new measure should be carried into effect in three years, so giving the master sweepers that period of time to complete their arrangements. During the course of the experiments and inquiry, the sweepers, as a body, seem to have thrown no obstacles, or very few and slight obstacles, in the way of the “Committee to promote the Superseding of the Labour of Climbing Boys;” while the most respectable of the class, or the majority of the respectable, aided the efforts of the Committee.

This manifestation of public feeling probably modified the opposition of the sweepers, and unquestionably influenced the votes of members of Parliament. The change in the operations of the chimney-sweeping business took place in 1832, as quietly and unnoticedly as if it were no change at all.

The machine now in use differs little from that invented by Mr. Smart, the first introduced, but lighter materials are now used in its manufacture. It has not been found necessary, however, to complicate its use with the jack-chain and pulley, and bullet with a brush attached, and the iron shutters or registers in the roof or cockloft, of which Mr. Tooke spoke.

The machine is formed of a series of hollow rods, made of a supple cane, bending and not breaking in any sinuosity of the flues. This cane is made of the same material as gentlemen’s walking-sticks. The first machines were made of wood, and were liable to be broken; and to enable the sweeps on such occasions to recover the broken part, a strong line ran from bottom to top through the centre of the sticks, which were bored for the purpose, and strung on this cord. The cane machine, however, speedily and effectually superseded these imperfect instruments; and there are now none of them to be met with. To the top tube of the machine is attached the “brush,” called technically “the head,” of elastic whalebone spikes, which “give” and bend, in accordance with the up or down motion communicated by the man working the machine, so sweeping what was described to me as “both ways,” up and down.

Some of these rods, which fit into one another by means of brass screws, are 4 feet 6 inches long, and diminish in diameter to suit their adjustment. Some rods are but 3 feet 6 inches long, and 4 feet is the full average length; while the average price at the machine maker’s is 2_s._ 6_d._ a rod, if bought separately. The head costs 10_s._, on an average, if bought separately. It is seldom that a machine is required to number beyond 17 rods (extending 68 feet), and the better class of sweepers are generally provided with 17 rods. The cost of the entire machine, for every kind of chimney-work, when purchased new, as a whole, is, when of good quality, from 30_s._ to 5_l._, according to the number of rods, duplicate rods, &c. Mr. Smart stated, in 1817, that the average price of one of his machines was then 2_l._ 3_s._

The sweepers who labour chiefly in the poorer localities--and several told me how indifferent many people in those parts were as to their chimneys being swept at all--rarely use a machine to extend beyond 40 feet, or one composed of 10 or 11 rods; but some of the inferior class of sweepers buy of those in a superior way of trade worn machines, at from a third to a half of the prime cost. These machines they trim up themselves. One portion of the work, however, they cannot repair or renew--the broken or worn-out brass screws of the rods, which they call the “ferules.” These, when new, are 1_s._ each. There were, when the machine-work was novel, I was informed, street-artizans who went about repairing these screws or ferules; but their work did not please the chimney-sweepers, and this street-trade did not last above a year or two.

The rods of the machine, when carefully attended to, last a long time. One man told me that he was still working some rods which he had worked since 1842 (nine years), with occasional renewal of the ferules. The head is either injured or worn down in about two years; if not well made at first, in a year. The diameter of this head or brush is, on the average, 18 inches. One of my informants had himself swept a chimney of 80 feet, and one of his fellow-workers had said that he once swept a chimney of 120 feet high; in both cases by means of the machine. My informant, however, thought such a feat as the 120-feet sweep was hardly possible, as only one man’s strength can be applied to the machine; and he was of opinion that no man’s muscular powers would be sufficient to work a machine at a height of 120 feet. The labour is sometimes very severe; “enough,” one strongly-built man told me, “to make your arms, head, and heart ache.”

The old-fashioned chimneys are generally 12 by 14 inches in their dimensions in the interior; and for the thorough sweeping of such chimneys--the opinion of all the sweepers I saw according on the subject--a head (it is rarely called brush in the trade) of 18 inches diameter is insufficient, yet they are seldom used larger. One intelligent master sweeper, speaking from his own knowledge, told me that in the neighbourhood where he worked numbers of houses had been built since the introduction of the machines, and the chimneys were only 9 inches square, as regards the interior; the smaller flues are sometimes but 7. These 9-inch chimneys, he told me, were frequent in “scamped” houses, houses got up at the lowest possible rate by speculating builders. This was done because the brickwork of the chimneys costs more than the other portions of the masonry, and so the smaller the dimensions of the chimneys the less the cost of the edifice. The machines are sometimes as much crippled in this circumscribed space as they are found of insufficient dimensions in the old-fashioned chimneys; and so the “scamped” chimney, unless by a master having many “heads,” is not so cleanly swept as it might be. Chimneys not built in this manner are now usually 9 inches by 14.

In cleansing a chimney with the machine the sweep stands by, or rather in, the fire-place, having first attached a sort of curtain to the mantle to confine the soot to one spot, the operator standing inside this curtain. He first introduces the “head,” attached to its proper rod, into the chimney, “driving” it forward, then screws on the next rod, and so on, until the head has been driven to the top of the chimney. The soot which has fallen upon the hearth, within the curtain, is collected into a sack or sacks, and is carried away on the men’s backs, and occasionally in carts. The whalebone spikes of the head are made to extend in every direction, so that when it is moved no part of the chimney, if the surface be even, escapes contact with these spikes, if the work be carefully done, as indeed it generally is; for the cleaner the chimney is swept of course the greater amount of soot adds to the profit of the sweeper. One man told me that he thought he had seen in some old big chimneys, a long time unswept, more soot brought down by the machine than, under similar circumstances as to the time the chimney had remained uncleansed, would have been done by the climbing boy.

All the master sweepers I saw concurred in the opinion that the machine was not in all respects so effective a sweeper as the climbing boy, as it does not reach the recesses, nooks, crannies, or holes in the chimney, where the soot remains little disturbed by the present process. This want is felt the most in the cleansing of the old-fashioned chimneys, especially in the country.

Mr. Cook, in 1817, stated to the Committee that the cleansing of a chimney by a boy or by a machine occupied the same space of time; but I find the general opinion of the sweepers now to be that it is only the small and straight chimneys which can be swept with as great celerity by a machine as by a climber; in all others the lad was quicker by about 5 minutes in 30, or in that proportion.

I heard sweepers represent that the passing of the Act of Parliament not only deprived them in many instances of the unexpired term of a boy’s apprenticeship in his services as a climber, but “threw open the business to any one.” The business, however, it seems, was always “open to any one.” There was no art nor mystery in it, as regarded the functions of the master; any one could send a boy up a chimney, and collect and carry away the soot he brought down, quite as readily and far more easily than he can work a machine. Nevertheless, men under the old system could hardly (and some say they were forbidden to) embark in this trade unless they had been apprenticed to it; for they were at a loss how to possess themselves of climbing boys, and how to make a connection. When the machines were introduced, however, a good many persons who were able to “raise the price” of one started in the line on their own account. These men have been called by the old hands “leeks” or “green ’uns,” to distinguish them from the regularly-trained men, who pride themselves not a little on the fact of their having served seven or eight years, “duly and truly,” as they never fail to express it. This increase of fresh hands tended to lower the earnings of the class; and some masters, who were described to me as formerly very “comfortable,” and some, comparatively speaking, rich, were considerably reduced by it. The number of “leeks” in 1832 I heard stated, with the exaggeration to which I have been accustomed when uninformed men, ignorant of the relative value of numbers, have expressed their opinions, as 1000!

The several classes in the chimney-sweeping trade may be arranged as follows:--

The Master Chimney-Sweepers, called sometimes “Governors” by the journeymen, are divisible into three kinds:--

The “large” or “high masters,” who employ from 2 to 10 men and 2 boys, and keep sometimes 2 horses and a cart, not particularly for the conveyance of the soot, but to go into the country to a gentleman’s house to fulfil orders.

The “small” or “low masters,” who employ, on an average, two men, and sometimes but one man and a boy, without either horse or cart.

The “single-handed master-men,” who employ neither men nor boys, but do all the work themselves.

Of these three classes of masters there are two subdivisions.

The “leeks” or “green-uns,” that is to say, those who have not regularly served their time to the trade.

The “knullers” or “queriers,” that is to say, those who solicit custom in an irregular manner, by knocking at the doors of houses and such like.

Of the competition of capitalists in this trade there are, I am told, no instances. “We have our own stations,” one master sweeper said, “and if I contract to sweep a genelman’s house, here in Pancras, for 25_s._ a year, or 10_s._, or anythink, my nearest neighbour, as has men and machines fit, is in Marrybun; and it wouldn’t pay to send his men a mile and a half, or on to two mile, and work at what I can--let alone less. No, sir, I’ve known bisness nigh 20 year, and there’s nothink in the way of that underworking. The poor creeturs as keeps theirselves with a machine, and nothing to give them a lift beyond it, they’d undertake work at any figure, but nobody employs or can trust to them, but on chance.” The contracts, I am told, for a year’s chimney-sweeping in any mansion are on the same terms with one master as with another.

As regards the Journeymen Chimney-Sweepers there are also three kinds:--

The “foreman” or “first journeyman” sweeper, who accompanies the men to their work, superintends their labours, and receives the money, when paid immediately after sweeping.

The “journeyman” sweeper, whose duty it is to work the machine, and (where no under-journeyman, or boy, is kept) to carry the machine and take home the soot.

The “under-journeyman” or “boy,” who has to carry the machine, take home the soot, and work the machine up the lower-class flues.

There are, besides these, some 20 climbing men, who ascend such flues as the machines cannot cleanse effectually, and, it must, I regret to say, be added, some 20 to 30 climbing boys, mostly under eleven years of age, who are still used for the same purpose “on the sly.” Many of the masters, indeed, lament the change to machine-sweeping, saying that their children, who are now useless, would, in “the good old times,” have been worth a pound a week to them. It is in the suburbs that these climbing children are mostly employed.

The hours of labour are from the earliest morning till about midday, and sometimes later.

There are no Houses of Call, trade societies, or regulations among these operatives, but there are low public-houses to which they resort, and where they can always be heard of.

When a chimney-sweeper is out of work he merely inquires of others in the same line of business, who, if they know of any one that wants a journeyman, direct their brother sweeper to call and see the master; but though the chimney-sweepers have no trade societies, some of the better class belong to sick, and others to burial, funds. The lower class of sweepers, however, seem to have no resource in sickness, or in their utmost need, but the parish. There are sweepers, I am told, in every workhouse in London.

There are three modes of payment common among the sweepers:--

1, in money; 2, partly in money and partly in kind; and 3, by perquisites.

The great majority of the masters pay the men they employ from 2_s._ to 3_s._, and a few 4_s._ and 6_s._ per week, together with their board and lodging. It may seem that 3_s._ per week is a small sum, but it was remarked to me that there are few working men who, after supporting themselves, are able to save that sum weekly, while the sweepers have many perquisites of one sort or other, which sometimes bring them in 1_s._, 2_s._, 3_s._, 4_s._, and occasionally 5_s._ or 6_s._, a week additional--a sufficient sum to pay for clothes and washing. The journeymen, when lodged in the house of the master, are single men, and if constantly employed might, perhaps, do well, but they are often unemployed, especially in the summer, when there are not so many fires kept burning. As soon as one of them gets married, or what among them is synonymous, “takes up with a woman,” which they commonly do when they are able to purchase some sort of a machine, they set up for themselves, and thus a great number of the men get to be masters on their own account, without being able to employ any extra hands. These are generally reckoned among the “knullers;” they do but little business at first, for the masters long established in a neighbourhood, who are known to the people, and have some standing, are almost always preferred to those who are strangers or mere beginners.

It was very common, but perhaps more common in country towns than in London, for the journeymen, as well as apprentices, in this and many other trades to live at the master’s table. But the board and lodging supplied, in lieu of money-wages, to the journeymen sweepers, seems to be one of the few existing instances of such a practice in London. Among slop-working tailors and shoemakers, some unfortunate workmen are boarded and lodged by their employers, but these employers are merely middlemen, who gain their living by serving such masters as “do not like to drive their negroes themselves.” But among the sweepers there are no middlemen.

It is not all the journeymen sweepers, however, who are remunerated after this manner, for many receive 12_s._, and some 14_s._, and not a few 18_s._ weekly, besides perquisites, but reside at their own homes.

Apprenticeship is now not at all common among the sweepers, as no training to the business is needed. Lord Shaftesbury, however, in July last, gave notice of his intention to bring in a bill to prevent persons who had not been duly apprenticed to the business establishing themselves as sweepers.

The Perquisites of the journeymen sweepers are for measuring, arranging, and putting the soot sold into the purchasers’ sacks, or carts; for this is considered extra work. The payment of this perquisite seems to be on no fixed scale, some having 1_s._ for 50, and some for 100 bushels. When a chimney is on fire and a journeyman sweeper is employed to extinguish it, he receives from 1_s._ 6_d._ to 5_s._ according to the extent of time consumed and the risk of being injured. “Chance sweeping,” or the sweeping of a chimney not belonging to a customer, when a journeyman has completed his regular round, ensures him 3_d._ in some employments, but in fewer than was once the case. The beer-money given by any customer to a journeyman is also his perquisite. Where a foreman is kept, the “brieze,” or cinders collected from the grate, belong to him, and the ashes belong to the journeyman; but where there is no foreman, the brieze and ashes belong to the journeyman solely. These they sell to the poor at the rate of 6_d._ a bushel. I am told by experienced men that, all these matters considered, it may be stated that one-half of the journeymen in London have perquisites of 1_s._ 6_d._, the other half of 2_s._ 6_d._ a week.

The Nominal Wages to the journeymen, then, are from 12_s._ to 18_s._ weekly, without board and lodging, or from 2_s._ to 6_s._ in money, with board and lodging, represented as equal to 7_s._

The Actual Wages are 2_s._ 6_d._ a week more in the form of perquisites, and perhaps 4_d._ daily in beer or gin.

The wages to the boys are mostly 1_s._ a week, but many masters pay 1_s._ 6_d._ to 2_s._, with board and lodging. These boys have no perquisites, except such bits of broken victuals as are given to them at houses where they go to sweep.

The wages of the foreman are generally 18_s._ per week, but some receive 14_s._ and some 20_s._ without board and lodging. In one case, where the foreman is kept by the master, only 2_s._ 6_d._ in money is given to him weekly. The perquisites of these men average from 4_s._ to 5_s._ a week.

The work in the chimney-sweeping trade is more regular than might at first be supposed. The sweepers whose circumstances enable them to employ journeymen send them on regular rounds, and do not engage “chance” hands. If business is brisk, the men and the master, when a working man himself, work later than ordinary, and sometimes another hand is put on and paid the customary amount, by the week, until the briskness ceases; but this is a rare occurrence. There are, however, strong lads, or journeymen out of work, who are occasionally employed in “jobbing,” helping to carry the soot and such like.

The labour of the journeymen, as regards the payment by their masters, is continuous, but the men are often discharged for drunkenness, or for endeavouring to “form a connection of their own” among their employers’ customers, and new hands are then put on. “Chimneys won’t wait, you know, sir,” was said to me, “and if I quit a hand this week, there’s another in his place next. If I discharge a hand for three months in a slack time, I have two on when it’s a busy time.” Perhaps the average employment of the whole body of operatives may be taken at nine months’ work in the year. When out of employment the chief resource of these men is in night-work; some turn street-sellers and bricklayers’ labourers.

I am told that a considerable sum of money was left for the purpose of supplying every climbing-boy who called on the first of May at a certain place, with a shilling and some refreshment, but I have not been able to ascertain by whom it was left, or where it was distributed; none of the sweepers with whom I conversed knew anything about it. I also heard, that since the passing of the Act, the money has been invested in some securities or other, and is now accumulating, but to what purpose it is intended to be applied I have no means of learning.

Let us now endeavour to estimate the gross yearly income of the operative sweepers.

There are, then, 399 men employed as journeymen, and of them 147 receive a money wage weekly from their masters, and reside with their parents or at their own places. The remaining 252 are boarded and lodged. This board and lodging are generally computed, as under the old system, to represent 8_s._, being 1_s._ a day for board and 1_s._ a week for lodging. But, on the average, the board does not cost the masters 7_s._ a week, but, as I shall afterwards show, barely 6_s._

The men and boys may be said to be all fully employed for nine months in the year; some, of course, are at work all the year through, but others get only six months’ employment in the twelve months; so that taking nine months as the average, we have the following table of

WAGES PAID TO THE OPERATIVE SWEEPERS OF LONDON.

------------------------------------------------+-------------+------------ | Money | | wages | JOURNEYMEN. | for nine | | months. | Without board and lodging. | £ s. d.| Journeymen per | | 30 employed by 3 masters, at 18_s._ week |1053 0 0 | 14 „ 5 „ 16_s._ „ | 436 16 0 | 6 „ 3 „ 15_s._ „ | 175 10 0 | 27 „ 8 „ 14_s._ „ | 737 2 0 | 63 „ 23 „ 12_s._ „ | 474 4 0 | Value of 7 „ 3 „ 10_s._ „ | 136 10 0 | board and --- -- +-------------+ lodging 147 45 |4013 2 0 | for nine | | months | | estimated | | at 7_s._ With board and lodging. | | a week. Journeymen per | | £ s. d. 3 employed by 1 master, at 8_s._ 0_d._ week| 46 16 0 | 40 19 0 17 „ 5 „ 6_s._ 0_d._ „ | 198 18 0 | 232 1 0 1 „ 1 „ 5_s._ 0_d._ „ | 9 15 0 | 13 13 0 41 „ 14 „ 4_s._ 0_d._ „ | 319 16 0 | 559 13 0 3 „ 1 „ 3_s._ 6_d._ „ | 20 9 6 | 40 19 0 80 „ 39 „ 3_s._ 0_d._ „ | 468 0 0 |1092 0 0 53 „ 26 „ 2_s._ 6_d._ „ | 258 7 6 | 723 9 0 44 „ 31 „ 2_s._ 0_d._ „ | 171 12 0 | 600 9 8 8 „ 4 „ 1_s._ 6_d._ „ | 234 0 0 | 09 4 0 2 „ 1 „ 1_s._ 0_d._ „ | 3 18 0 | 27 6 0 --- --- +-------------+----------- 252 123 |1731 12 0 |3439 13 8 | | FOREMEN. | | Without board and lodging. | | Foremen per | | 2 employed by 1 master, at 20_s._ week | 78 0 0 | 6 „ 4 „ 18_s._ „ | 210 12 0 | 1 „ 1 „ 16_s._ „ | 31 4 0 | 2 „ 2 „ 14_s._ „ | 54 12 0 | -- -- +-------------+ 11 8 | 374 8 0 | | | With board and lodging. | | 1 „ 1 „ 2_s._ 6_d._ „ | 4 17 6 | 13 13 0 | | BOYS. | | Without board and lodging. | |Board and Boys per | | lodging 2 employed by 1 master, at 10_s._ week | 39 0 0 |estimated | | at 6_s._ With board and lodging. | | a week. 1 „ 1 „ 3_s._ 0_d._ „ | 5 17 0 | 11 14 0 1 „ 1 „ 2_s._ 6_d._ „ | 4 17 6 | 11 14 0 9 „ 8 „ 2_s._ 0_d._ „ | 35 2 0 | 105 6 0 14 „ 14 „ 1_s._ 6_d._ „ | 40 19 0 | 163 16 0 30 „ 28 „ 1_s._ 0_d._ „ | 58 10 0 | 351 0 0 1 „ 1 „ 0_s._ 9_d._ „ | 1 9 3 | 11 14 0 4 „ 2 „ 0_s._ 0_d._ „ | | 46 16 0 -- -- +-------------+----------- 62 54 | 146 14 9 | 702 0 0 +-------------+-----------

Total earnings 6309 14 3 Total for board, lodging, &c. 4155 6 8 ------------ Grand Total 10,465 0 11

Thus we find that the constant or average casual wages of the several classes of operative chimney-sweepers may be taken as follows:--

Journeymen without board and lodging, s. d. and with perquisites averaging 2_s._ a week 12 6 Journeymen with board and lodging and 2_s._ a week perquisites 9 10-1/2 Foreman, without board and lodging, at 2_s._ 6_d._ a week perquisites 15 7 Boys, with board and lodging 5 3

The general wages of the trade, including foreman, journeymen, and boys, and calculating the perquisites to average 2_s._ weekly, will be 10_s._ 6_d._ a week, the same as the cotton factory operatives.

But if 10,500_l._ be the income of the operatives, what do the employers receive who have to pay this sum?

The charge for sweeping one of the lofty chimneys in the public and official edifices, and in the great houses in the aristocratic streets and squares, is 2_s._ 6_d._ and 3_s._ 6_d._

The chimneys of moderate-sized houses are swept at 1_s._ to 1_s._ 6_d._ each, and those of the poorer classes are charged generally 6_d._; some, however, are swept at 3_d._ and 4_d._; and when soot realized a higher price (some of the present master sweepers have sold it at 1_s._ a bushel), the chimneys of poor persons were swept by the poorer class of sweeps merely for the perquisite of the soot. This is sometimes done even now, but to a very small extent, by a sweeper, “on his own hook,” and in want of a job, but generally with an injunction to the person whose chimney has been cleansed on such easy terms, not to mention it, as it “couldn’t be made a practice on.”

Estimating the number of houses belonging to the wealthy classes of society to be 54,000, and these to be swept eight times a year, and the charge for sweeping to be 2_s._ 6_d._ each time; and the number of houses belonging to the middle classes to be 90,000, and each to be swept four times a year, at 1_s._ 6_d._ each time; and the dwellings of the poor and labouring classes to be swept once a year at 6_d._ each time, and the number of such dwellings to be 165,000, we find that the total sum paid to the master chimney-sweepers of London is, in round numbers, 85,000_l._

The sum obtained for 800,000 bushels of soot collected by the master-sweepers from the houses of London, at 5_d._ per bushel, is 16,500_l._

Thus the total annual income of the master-sweepers of London is 100,000_l._

Out of this 100,000_l._ per annum, the expenses of the masters would appear to be as follows:--

Yearly Expenditure of the Master-Sweepers.

Sum paid in wages to 473 journeymen £10,500 Rent, &c., of 350 houses or lodgings, at 12_l._ yearly each 4,200 Wear and tear of 1000 machines, 1_l._ each yearly 1,000 Ditto 2000 sacks, at 1_s._ each yearly 100 Keep of 25 horses, 7_s._ weekly each 455 Wear and tear of 25 carts and harness, 1_l._ each 25 Interest on capital at 10 per cent. 450 ------ Total yearly expenditure of master-sweepers employing journeymen £16,736

The rent here given may seem low at 12_l._ a year, but many of the chimney-sweepers live in parlours, with cellars below, in old out-of-the-way places, at a low rental, in Stepney, Shadwell, Wapping, Bethnal-green, Hoxton, Lock’s-fields, Walworth, Newington, Islington, Somers-town, Paddington, &c. The better sort of master-sweepers at the West-end often live in a mews.

The gains, then, of the master sweepers are as under:--

Annual income for cleansing chimneys and soot £100,000 Expenditure for wages, rent, wear, and tear, keep of horses, &c., say 20,000 ------- Annual profit of master chimney-sweepers of London £80,000

This amount of profit, divided among 350 masters, gives about 230_l._ per annum to each individual; it is only by a few, however, that such a sum is realized, as in the 100,000_l._ paid by the London public to the sweepers’ trade, is included the sum received by the men who work single-handed, “on their own hook,” as they say, employing no journeymen. Of these men’s earnings, the accounts I heard from themselves and the other master sweepers were all accordant, that they barely made journeymen’s wages. They have the very worst-paid portion of the trade, receiving neither for their sweeping nor their soot the prices obtained by the better masters; indeed they very frequently sell their soot to their more prosperous brethren. Their general statement is, that they make “eighteen pence a day, and all told.” Their receipts then, and they have no perquisites as have the journeymen, are, in a slack time, about 1_s._ a day (and some days they do not get a job); but in the winter they are busier, as it is then that sweepers are employed by the poor; and at that period the “master-men” may make from 15_s._ to 20_s._ a week each; so that, I am assured, the average of their weekly takings may be estimated at 12_s._ 6_d._

Now, deducting the expenditure from the receipts of 100,000_l._ (for sweeping and soot), the balance, as we have seen, is 80,000_l._, an amount of profit which, if equally divided among the three classes of the trade, will give the following sums:--

Yearly, each. Yearly, total.

Profits of 150 single-handed £ s. £ master-men 32 10 4,940 Do. 92 small masters 200 0 18,400 Do. 106 large masters 500 0 53,000 ------ £76,340

Nor is this estimate of the masters’ profits, I am assured, extravagant. One of the smaller sweepers, but a prosperous man in his way, told me that he knew a master sweeper who was “as rich as Crœser, had bought houses, and could not write his own name.”

We have now but to estimate the amount of capital invested in the chimney-sweepers’ trade, and then to proceed to the characteristics of the men.

1200 machines, 2_l._ 10_s._ each (present £ average value) 3000 3000 sacks, 2_s._ 6_d._ each 385 25 horses, 20_l._ each 500 25 sets of harness, 2_l._ each 50 25 carts, 12_l._ each 300 ----- £4235

It may be thought that the sweepers will require the services of more than 25 horses, but I am assured that such is not the case as regards the soot business, for the soot is carted away from the sweepers’ premises by the farmer or other purchaser.

It would appear, then, that the facts of the chimney-sweepers’ trade are briefly as under:--

The gross quantity of soot collected yearly throughout London is 800,000 bushels. The value of this, sold as manure, at 5_d._ per bushel, is 16,500_l._

There are 800 to 900 people employed in the trade, 200 of whom are masters employing journeymen, 150 single-handed master-men, and 470 journeymen and under journeymen.

The annual income of the entire number of journeymen is 10,500_l._ without perquisites, or 13,000_l._ with, which gives an average weekly wage to the operatives of 10_s._ 6_d._

The annual income of the masters and leeks is, for sweeping and soot, 100,000_l._

The annual expenditure of the masters for rent, keep of horses, wear and tear, and wages, is 20,000_l._

The gross annual profit of the 350 masters is 80,000_l._, which is at the rate of about 35_l._ per annum to each of the single-handed men, 200_l._ to each of the smaller masters employing journeymen, and 500_l._ to each of the larger masters.

The capital of the trade is about 5000_l._

The price charged by the “high master sweepers” for cleaning the flues of a house rented at 150_l._ a year and upwards, is from 1_s._ to 3_s._ 6_d._ (the higher price being paid for sweeping those chimneys which have a hot plate affixed). A small master, on the other hand, will charge from 1_s._ to 3_s._ for the same kind of work, while a single-handed man seldom gets above “a 2_s._ job,” and that not very often. The charge for sweeping the flues of a house rented at from 50_l._ to 150_l._ a year, is from 9_d._ to 2_s._ 6_d._ by a large master, and from 8_d._ to 2_s._ by a small master, while a single-handed man will take the job at from 6_d._ to 1_s._ 6_d._ The price charged per flue for a house rented at from 20_l._ a year up to 50_l._ a year, will average 6_d._ a flue, charged by large masters, 4_d._ by small masters, and from 2_d._ to 3_d._ by the single-handed sweepers in some cases; indeed, the poorest class will sweep a flue for the soot only. But the prices charged for sweeping chimneys differ in the different parts of the metropolis. I subjoin a list of the maximum and minimum charge for the several districts.

d. s. d. Kensington and Hammersmith 4 to 3 0 Westminster 3 „ 2 0 Chelsea 4 „ 2 6 St. George’s, Hanover-sq. 6 „ 3 6 St. Martin’s and St. Ann’s 4 „ 2 6 St. James’s, Westminster 3 „ 2 6 Marylebone 4 „ 2 6 Paddington 3 „ 2 0 Hampstead 3 „ 1 6 St. Pancras 4 „ 3 0 Islington 3 „ 1 6 Hackney and Homerton 3 „ 2 0 St. Giles’s and St. George’s, Bloomsbury 3 „ 3 0 Strand 4 „ 2 6 Holborn 4 „ 2 6 Clerkenwell 3 „ 1 6 St. Luke’s 3 „ 1 0 East London 3 „ 1 6 West London 4 „ 2 6 London City 6 „ 2 6 Shoreditch 3 „ 1 0 Bethnal Green 3 „ 1 0 Whitechapel 4 „ 1 6 St. George’s in the East and Limehouse 3 „ 1 0 Stepney 3 „ 1 6 Poplar 4 „ 2 0 St. George’s, St. Olave’s, and St. Saviour’s, Southwark 3 „ 1 6 Bermondsey 3 „ 0 9 Walworth and Newington 4 „ 1 6 Wandsworth 4 „ 1 6 Lambeth 3 „ 1 0 Camberwell 4 „ 2 0 Clapham, Brixton, and Tooting 4 „ 2 6 Rotherhithe 3 „ 1 6 Greenwich 3 „ 1 6 Woolwich 3 „ 2 6 Lewisham 6 „ 3 0

N.B.--The single-handed and the knullers generally charge a penny less than the prices above given.

There are three different kinds of soot:--the best is produced purely from coal; the next in value is that which proceeds from the combustion of vegetable refuse along with the coal, as in cases where potato peelings, cabbage leaves, and the like, are burnt in the fires of the poorer classes; while the soot produced from wood fires is, I am told, scarcely worth carriage. Wood-soot, however, is generally mixed with that from coal, and sold as the superior kind.

Not only is there a difference in value in the various kinds of soot, but there is also a vast difference in the weight. A bushel of pure coal soot will not weigh above four pounds; that produced from the combustion of coal and vegetable refuse will weigh nearly thrice as much; while that from wood fires is, I am assured, nearly ten times heavier than from coal.

I have not heard that the introduction of free trade has had any influence on the value of soot, or in reducing the wages of the operatives. The same wages are paid to the operatives whether soot sells at a high or low price.

OF THE GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE WORKING CHIMNEY-SWEEPERS.

There are many reasons why the chimney-sweepers have ever been a distinct and peculiar class. They have long been looked down upon as the lowest order of workers, and treated with contumely by those who were but little better than themselves. The peculiar nature of their work giving them not only a filthy appearance, but an offensive smell, of itself, in a manner, prohibited them from associating with other working men; and the natural effect of such proscription has been to compel them to herd together apart from others, and to acquire habits and peculiarities of their own widely differing from the characteristics of the rest of the labouring classes.

A TABLE SHOWING THE NUMBER OF MASTER CHIMNEY SWEEPERS RESIDING IN THE SEVERAL DISTRICTS OF THE METROPOLIS, THE NUMBER OF FOREMEN, OF JOURNEYMEN, AND UNDER JOURNEYMEN EMPLOYED IN EACH DISTRICT DURING THE YEAR, AS WELL AS THE WEEKLY WAGES OF EACH CLASS.

----------------+---------+---------+----------+----------+-------------+ | | | No. of | No. of | | | No. of | |Journeymen|Journeymen| | | Master | | employed | employed |No. of Under | DISTRICTS. |Sweepers | No. of | in the | in the | Journeymen, | | in each | Foremen | brisk | slack |men, or boys,| |District.|employed.| season. | season. | employed. | ----------------+---------+---------+----------+----------+-------------+ WEST DISTRICTS. | | | | | | _Kensington and | | | | | | Hammersmith_ | 11 | 2 | 25 | 16 | 2 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | Westminster | 13 | 1 | 26 | 18 | 1 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | Chelsea | 22 | -- | 13 | 11 | 2 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | _St. George’s, | | | | | | Hanover-sq._ | 10 | 5 | 27 | 25 | -- | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | _St. Martin’s | | | | | | and St. | | | | | | Ann’s_ | 9 | -- | 16 | 15 | 1 | | | | | | | | | | | | | _St. James’s, | | | | | | Westminster_ | 7 | 1 | 9 | 6 | -- | | | | | | | | | | | | | NORTH DISTRICTS.| | | | | | Marylebone | 18 | -- | 21 | 16 | -- | Paddington | 10 | 1 | 17 | 10 | 3 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | Hampstead | 2 | -- | 2 | 2 | 2 | | | | | | | Islington | 9 | -- | 13 | 12 | 3 | | | | | | | St. Pancras | 18 | -- | 33 | 21 | 6 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | _Hackney and | | | | | | Homerton_ | 13 | -- | 3 | 3 | 4 |

+---------+-----------+----------------------+--------------- | | | | | No. of | | | | Bushels | Weekly | Weekly | Weekly | of Soot | Wages | Wages | Wages of |collected| of each | of each | each Under | Weekly. | Foreman. | Journeyman. | Journeyman. +---------+-----------+----------------------+--------------- | | | | | | | | | 695 | 18_s._ | 7 at 16_s._ | 10_s._ | | | 6 „ 15_s._ | | | |10 „ 14_s._ | | | | 1 „ 12_s._ | | 735 | 14_s._ | 5 at 18_s._ | 3_s._ b | | |10 „ 12_s._ | | | | 3 „ 4_s._} | | | | 4 „ 3_s._}b | | | | 4 „ 2_s._} | | 670 | -- | 1 „ 16_s._ |1 at 2_s._ b | | | 3 „ 12_s._ |1 e | | | 4 „ 10_s._ | | | | 3 „ 3_s._ } | | | | 1 „ 2_s._ 6_d._}b| | | | 1 „ 2_s._ } | | | | | | 890 |4 at 18_s._| 5 at 18_s._ | -- | |1 „ 16_s._| 3 „ 16_s._ | | | | 2 „ 15_s._ | | | | 9 „ 14_s._ | | | | 7 „ 12_s._ | | | | 1 „ 6_s._ b | | | | | | | | | | 415 | -- | 7 at 6_s._} | 2_s._ b | | | 6 „ 4_s._}b | | | | 2 „ 3_s._} | | | | | | 355 | 14_s._ | 5 at 12_s._ | -- | | | 1 „ 10_s._ | | | | 1 at 3_s._ 6_d._ b| | | | | | 775 | -- | 18_s._ | -- | 495 | 18_s._ | 1 at 14_s._ |2 at 2_s._ } | | | 1 „ 10_s._ |1 „ 1_s._ 6_d._}b | | | 2 „ 4_s._ } | | | | 8 „ 3_s._ 6_d._}b| | | | 1 „ 2_s._ 6_d._} | | | | 2 „ 1_s._} | | 60 | -- | 1 at 3_s._}b |1 at 1_s._ 6_d._}b | | | 1 „ 2_s._} |1 „ 1_s._ } | 425 | -- | 3 at 4_s._ }b | 1_s._ 6_d._ b | | | 2 „ 3_s._ } | | 920 | -- | 2 at 14_s._ |3 at 2_s._ } | | | 6 „ 12_s._ |2 „ 1_s._ 6_d._}b | | | 4 „ 10_s._ |1 „ 1_s._ } | | | 6 „ 4_s._ } | | | | 3 „ 3_s._ 6_d._} | | | |11 „ 3_s._ }b| | | | 3 „ 2_s._ 6_d._} | | | | 1 „ 2_s._ } | | | | | | 290 | -- | 2_s._ b |1_s._ 6_d._ b

----------------+---------+---------+----------+----------+-------------+ | | | No. of | No. of | | | No. of | |Journeymen|Journeymen| | | Master | | employed | employed |No. of Under | Districts. |Sweepers | No. of | in the | in the | Journeymen, | | in each | Foremen | brisk | slack |men, or boys,| |District.|employed.| season. | season. | employed. | ----------------+---------+---------+----------+----------+-------------+ CENTRAL | | | | | | DISTRICTS. | | | | | | _St. Giles’s and| 12 | -- | 9 | 7 | 5 | St. George’s, | | | | | | Bloomsbury._ | | | | | | Strand | 5 | -- | 11 | 8 | 2 | | | | | | | Holborn | 6 | 2 | 11 | 10 | -- | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | Clerkenwell | 6 | -- | 9 | 9 | 1 | | | | | | | St. Luke’s | 6 | -- | 4 | 3 | 2 | East London | 8 | -- | 10 | 8 | -- | West London | 5 | -- | 9 | 6 | -- | | | | | | | London City | 6 | -- | 12 | 10 | 2 | | | | | | | EAST DISTRICTS. | | | | | | Shoreditch | 13 | -- | 6 | 5 | 1 | Bethnal Green | 6 | -- | 2 | 2 | -- | | | | | | | Whitechapel | 11 | -- | 1 | 1 | 3 | _St. George’s-in| 14 | -- | 14 | 10 | 3 | -the-East and | | | | | | Limehouse._ | | | | | | Stepney | 9 | -- | 3 | 2 | -- | Poplar | 4 | -- | 1 | -- | 1 | | | | | | | SOUTH DISTRICTS.| | | | | | Southwark | 17 | -- | -- | -- | -- | Bermondsey | 8 | -- | 4 | 4 | 1 | _Walworth and | 9 | -- | 6 | 4 | 4 | Newington_ | | | | | | Wandsworth | 6 | -- | 6 | 5 | 1 | | | | | | | Lambeth | 16 | -- | 9 | 9 | 5 | | | | | | | Camberwell | 8 | -- | 8 | 7 | 1 | _Clapton, } | 11 | -- | 13 | 7 | 1 | Brixton, } | | | | | | and Tooting_} | | | | | | Rotherhithe | 7 | -- | 2 | 2 | -- | Greenwich | 6 | -- | 4 | 4 | 1 | | | | | | | Woolwich | 7 | -- | 17 | 12 | 3 | | | | | | | Lewisham | 2 | -- | 5 | 5 | 1 | _Ramoneur | | | | | | Company_ | -- | -- | 18 | 18 | 18 | ----------------+---------+---------+----------+----------+-------------+ TOTAL | 350 | 12 | 399 | 62 | 62 | ----------------+---------+---------+----------+----------+-------------+

+---------+-----------+----------------------+--------------- | | | | | No. of | | | | Bushels | Weekly | Weekly | Weekly | of Soot | Wages | Wages | Wages of |collected| of each | of each | each Under | Weekly. | Foreman. | Journeyman. | Journeyman. +---------+-----------+----------------------+--------------- | | | | | | | | | 435 | -- |8 at 12_s._ | 1_s._ b | | |1 „ 3_s._ b | | | | | | 350 | -- | 4_s._ b |1 at 2_s._} | | | |1 „ 1_s._} b | 435 | 20_s._ |2 at 18_s._ | -- | | |3 „ 8_s._} | | | |4 „ 4_s._} b | | | |2 „ 3_s._} | | 310 | -- |8 at 3_s._ } b| 1_s._ b | | |1 „ 2_s._ 6_d._} | | 175 | -- | 2_s._ b | 1_s._ b | 455 | -- | 3_s._ b | -- | 205 | -- |3 at 4_s._} | -- | | |6 „ 3_s._}b | | 415 | -- |6 at 6_s._ } | 2_s._ b | | |6 „ 4_s._ }b | | | | | | 380 | -- | 2_s._ b | 1_s._ b | 150 | -- |1 at 5_s._ | -- | | |1 „ 2_s._ b | | 330 | -- | 2_s._ b | 3_s._ e | 650 | -- |3 at 3_s._ } |1 at 1_s._ 6_d._}b | | |4 „ 2_s._ 6_d._}b |2 „ 1_s._ } | | |7 „ 2_s._ } | | 275 | -- | 3_s._ b | -- | 110 | -- | 2_s._ b | 1_s._ 6_d._ b | | | | | | | | | 385 | -- | -- | -- | 220 | -- | 2_s._ b | 1_s._ b | 330 | -- | 2_s._ b | 1_s._ b | | | | | 240 | -- | 3 at 3_s._ } | 1_s._ b | | | 3 „ 2_s._ 6_d._}b | | 560 | -- | 3 at 3_s._ { |1 at 1_s._ 6_d._} | | | 6 „ 2_s._ 6_d._{b |4 „ 1_s._ } b | 315 | -- | 2_s._ 6_d._{b | 1_s._ b | 410 | -- | 2_s._ 6_d._ b | 1_s._ b | | | | | | | | | 170 | -- | 2_s._ b | -- | 195 | -- | 1_s._ 6_d._ b | 1_s._ b | | | | | 515 | -- |13 at 2_s._ 6_d._ |2 at 1_s._} | | | 4 „ 1_s._ 6_d._ |1 „ 9_d._} b | 160 | -- | 2_s._ b | 1_s._ b | | | | | 450 | -- | 18_s._ | -- +---------+-----------+----------------------+------------------ | 15350 | | | +---------+-----------+----------------------+------------------

NOTE.--b means board and lodging as well as money, or part money and part kind; e stands for everything found or paid all in kind.

These returns have been collected by personal visits to each district:--the name of each master throughout London, together with the number of Foremen, Journeymen, and Under Journeymen employed, and the Wages received by each, as well as the quantity of soot collected, have been likewise obtained; but the names of the masters are here omitted for want of space, and the results alone are given.

Sweepers, however, have not from this cause generally been an hereditary race--that is, they have not become sweepers from father to son for many generations. Their numbers were, in the days of the climbing boys, in most instances increased by parish apprentices, the parishes usually adopting that mode as the cheapest and easiest of freeing themselves from a part of the burden of juvenile pauperism. The climbing boys, but more especially the unfortunate parish apprentices, were almost always cruelly used, starved, beaten, and over-worked by their masters, and treated as outcasts by all with whom they came in contact: there can be no wonder, then, that, driven in this manner from all other society, they gladly availed themselves of the companionship of their fellow-sufferers; quickly imbibed all their habits and peculiarities; and, perhaps, ended by becoming themselves the most tyrannical masters to those who might happen to be placed under their charge.

Notwithstanding the disrepute in which sweepers have ever been held, there are many classes of workers beneath them in intelligence. All the tribe of finders and collectors (with the exception of the dredgermen, who are an observant race, and the sewer-hunters, who, from the danger of their employment, are compelled to exercise their intellects) are far inferior to them in this respect; and they are clever fellows compared to many of the dustmen and scavagers. The great mass of the agricultural labourers are known to be almost as ignorant as the beasts they drive; but the sweepers, from whatever cause it may arise, are known, in many instances, to be shrewd, intelligent, and active.

But there is much room for improvement among the operative chimney-sweepers. Speaking of the men generally, I am assured that there is scarcely one out of ten who can either read or write. One man in Chelsea informed me that some ladies, in connection with the Rev. Mr. Cadman’s church, made an attempt to instruct the sweepers of the neighbourhood in reading and writing; but the master sweepers grew jealous, and became afraid lest their men should get too knowing for them. When the time came, therefore, for the men to prepare for the school, the masters always managed to find out some job which prevented them from attending at the appointed time, and the consequence was that the benevolent designs of the ladies were frustrated.

The sweepers, as a class, in almost all their habits, bear a strong resemblance to the costermongers. The habit of going about in search of their employment has, of itself, implanted in many of them the wandering propensity peculiar to street people. Many of the better-class costermongers have risen into coal-shed men and greengrocers, and become settled in life; in like manner the better-class sweepers have risen to be masters, and, becoming settled in a locality, have gradually obtained the trade of the neighbourhood; then, as their circumstances improved, they have been able to get horses and carts, and become nightmen; and there are many of them at this moment men of wealth, comparatively speaking. The great body of them, however, retain in all their force their original characteristics; the masters themselves, although shrewd and sensible men, often betray their want of education, and are in no way particular as to their expressions, their language being made up, in a great measure, of the terms peculiar to the costermongers, especially the denominations of the various sorts of money. I met with some sweepers, however, whose language was that in ordinary use, and their manners not vulgar. I might specify one, who, although a workhouse orphan and apprentice, a harshly-treated climbing-boy, is now prospering as a sweeper and nightman, is a regular attendant at all meetings to promote the good of the poor, and a zealous ragged-school teacher, and teetotaller.

When such men are met with, perhaps the class cannot be looked upon as utterly cast away, although the need of reformation in the habits of the working sweepers is extreme, and especially in respect of drinking, gambling, and dirt. The journeymen (who have often a good deal of leisure) and the single-handed men are--in the great majority of cases at least--addicted to drinking, beer being their favourite beverage, either because it is the cheapest or that they fancy it the most suitable for washing away the sooty particles which find their way to their throats. These men gamble also, but with this proviso--they seldom play for money; but when they meet in their usual houses of resort--two famous ones are in Back C---- lane and S---- street, Whitechapel--they spend their time and what money they may have in tossing for beer, till they are either drunk or penniless. Such men present the appearance of having just come out of a chimney. There seems never to have been any attempt made by them to wash the soot off their faces. I am informed that there is scarcely one of them who has a second shirt or any change of clothes, and that they wear their garments night and day till they literally rot, and drop in fragments from their backs. Those who are not employed as journeymen by the masters are frequently whole days without food, especially in summer, when the work is slack; and it usually happens that those who are what is called “knocking about on their own account” seldom or never have a farthing in their pockets in the morning, and may, perhaps, have to travel till evening before they get a threepenny or sixpenny chimney to sweep. When night comes, and they meet their companions, the tossing and drinking again commences; they again get drunk; roll home to wherever it may be, to go through the same routine on the morrow; and this is the usual tenour of their lives, whether earning 5_s._ or 20_s._ a week.

The chimney-sweepers generally are fond of drink; indeed their calling, like that of dustmen, is one of those which naturally lead to it. The men declare they are ordered to drink gin and smoke as much as they can, in order to rid the stomach of the soot they may have swallowed during their work.

Washing among chimney-sweepers seems to be much more frequent than it was. In the evidence before Parliament it was stated that some of the climbing-boys were washed once in six months, some once a week, some once in two or three months. I do not find it anywhere stated that any of these children were never washed at all; but from the tenour of the evidence it may be reasonably concluded that such was the case.

A master sweeper, who was in the habit of bathing at the Marylebone baths once and sometimes twice a week, assured me that, although many now eat and drink and sleep sooty, washing is more common among his class than when he himself was a climbing-boy. He used then to be stripped, and compelled to step into a tub, and into water sometimes too hot and sometimes too cold, while his mistress, to use his own word, scoured him. Judging from what he had seen and heard, my informant was satisfied that, from 30 to 40 years ago, climbing-boys, with a very few exceptions, were but seldom washed; and then it was looked upon by them as a most disagreeable operation, often, indeed, as a species of punishment. Some of the climbing-boys used to be taken by their masters to bathe in the Serpentine many years ago; but one boy was unfortunately drowned, so that the children could hardly be coerced to go into the water afterwards.

The washing among the chimney-sweepers of the present day, when there are scarcely any climbing-boys, is so much an individual matter that it is not possible to speak with any great degree of certainty on the subject, but that it increases may be concluded from the fact that the number of sweeps who resort to the public baths increases.

The first public baths and washhouses opened in London were in the “north-west district,” and situated in George-street, Euston-square, near the Hampstead-road. This establishment was founded by voluntary contribution in 1846, and is now self-supporting.

There are three more public baths: one in Goulston-street, Whitechapel (on the same principle as that first established); another in St. Martin’s, near the National Gallery, which are parochial; and the last in Marylebone, near the Yorkshire Stingo tavern, New-road, also parochial. The charge for a cold bath, each being secluded from the others, is 1_d._, with the use of a towel; a warm bath is 2_d._ in the third class. The following is the return of the number of bathers at the north-west district baths, the establishment most frequented:--

------------------------------+-------+-------+-------+------- | 1847. | 1848. | 1849. | 1850. +-------+-------+-------+------- Bathers |110,940|111,788| 96,726| 86,597 Washers, Dryers, Ironers, &c. | 39,418| 61,690| 65,934| 73,023 Individuals Washed for |137,672|246,760|263,736|292,092

I endeavoured to ascertain the proportion of sweepers, with other working men, who availed themselves of these baths; but there are unfortunately no data for instituting a comparison as to the relative cleanliness of the several trades. When the baths were first opened an endeavour was made to obtain such a return; but it was found to be distasteful to the bathers, and so was discontinued. We find, then, that in four years there have been 406,051 bathers. The following gives the proportion between the sexes, a portion of 1846 being included:--

Bathers--Males 417,424 „ Females 47,114 ------- Total bathers 464,538

The falling off in the number of bathers at this establishment is, I am told, attributable to the opening of new baths, the people, of course, resorting to the nearest.

I have given the return of washers, &c., as I endeavoured to ascertain the proportion of washing by the chimney-sweeper’s wives; but there is no specification of the trades of the persons using this branch of the establishment any more than there is of those frequenting the baths, and for the same reason as prevented its being done among the bathers. One of the attendants at these washhouses told me that he had no doubt the sweepers’ wives did wash there, for he had more than once seen a sweeper waiting to carry home the clothes his wife had cleansed. As no questions concerning their situation in life are asked of the poor women who resort to these very excellent institutions (for such they appear to be on a cursory glance) of course no data can be supplied. This is to be somewhat regretted; but a regard to the feelings, and in some respects to the small prejudices, of the industrious poor is to be commended rather than otherwise, and the managers of these baths certainly seem to have manifested such a regard.

I am informed, however, by the secretary of the north-west district institution, that in some weeks of the summer 80 chimney-sweepers bathed there; always having, he believed, warm baths, which are more effective in removing soot or dirt from the skin than cold. Summer, it must be remembered, is the sweep’s “brisk” season. In a winter week as few as 25 or 20 have bathed, but the weekly average of sweeper-bathers, the year through, is about 50; and the number of sweeper-bathers, he thought, had increased since the opening of the baths about 10 per cent. yearly. As in 1850 the average number of bathers of all classes did not exceed 1646 per week, the proportion of sweepers, 50, is high. The number of female bathers is about one-ninth, so that the males would be about 1480; and the 50 sweepers a week constitute about a thirtieth part of the whole of the third-class bathers. The number of sweep-bathers was known because a sweep is known by his appearance.

I was told by the secretary that the sweepers, the majority bathing on Saturday nights, usually carried a bundle to the bath; this contained their “clean things.” After bathing they assumed their “Sunday clothes;” and from the change in their appearance between ingress and egress, they were hardly recognisable as the same individuals.

In the other baths, where also there is no specification of the bathers, I am told, that of sweepers bathing the number (on computation) is 30 at Marylebone, 25 at Goulston-street, and 15 (at the least) at St. Martin’s, as a weekly average. In all, 120 sweepers bathe weekly, or about a seventh of the entire working body. The increase at the three baths last mentioned, in sweepers bathing, is from 5 to 10 per cent.

Among the lower-class sweepers there are but few who wash themselves even once throughout the year. They eat, drink, and sleep in the same state of filth and dirt as when engaged in their daily avocation. Others, however, among the better class are more cleanly in their habits, and wash themselves every night.

* * * * *

Between the appearance of the sweepers in the streets at the present time and before the abolition of the system of climbing there is a marked difference. Charles Lamb said (in 1823):--

“I like to meet a sweep--understand me, not a grown sweeper--old chimney-sweepers are by no means attractive--but one of those tender novices blooming through their first nigritude, the maternal washings not quite effaced from the cheek--such as come forth with the dawn, or somewhat earlier, with their little professional notes sounding like the peep peep of a young sparrow; or liker to the matin lark should I pronounce them, in their aerial ascents not seldom anticipating the sunrise?”

Throughout his essay, Elia throws the halo of poetry over the child-sweepers, calling them “dim specks,” “poor blots,” “innocent blacknesses,” “young Africans of our own growth;” the natural kindliness of the writer shines out through all. He counsels his reader to give the young innocent 2_d._, or, if the weather were starving, “let the demand on thy humanity rise to a tester” (6_d._).

The appearance of the little children-sweepers, as they trotted along at the master’s or the journeyman’s heels, or waited at “rich men’s doors” on a cold morning, was pitiable in the extreme. If it snowed, there was a strange contrast between the black sootiness of the sweeper’s dress and the white flakes of snow which adhered to it. The boy-sweeper trotted listlessly along; a sack to contain the soot thrown over his shoulder, or disposed round his neck, like a cape or shawl. One master sweeper tells me that in his apprenticeship days he had to wait at the great mansions in and about Grosvenor-square, on some bitter wintry mornings, until he felt as if his feet, although he had both stockings and shoes--and many young climbers were barefoot--felt as if frozen to the pavement. When the door was opened, he told me, the matter was not really mended. The rooms were often large and cold, and being lighted only with a candle or two, no doubt looked very dreary, while there was not a fire in the whole house, and no one up but a yawning servant or two, often very cross at having been disturbed. The servants, however, in noblemen’s houses, he also told me, were frequently kind to him, giving him bread and butter, and sometimes bread and jam; and as his master generally had a glass of raw spirit handed to him, the boy usually had a sip when his employer had “knocked off his glass.” His employer, indeed, sometimes said, “O, he’s better without it; it’ll only larn him to drink, like it did me;” but the servant usually answered, “O, here, just a thimblefull for him.”

The usual dress of the climbing-boy--as I have learned from those who had worn it themselves, and, when masters, had provided it for their boys--was made of a sort of strong flannel, which many years ago was called chimney-sweepers’ cloth; but my informant was not certain whether this was a common name for it or not, he only remembered having heard it called so. He remembered, also, accompanying his master to do something to the flues in a church, then (1817) hung with black cloth, as a part of the national mourning for the Princess Charlotte of Wales, and he thought it seemed very like the chimney-sweepers’ cloth, which was dark coloured when new. The child-sweep wore a pair of cloth trowsers, and over that a sort of tunic, or tight fitting shirt with sleeves; sometimes a little waistcoat and jacket. This, it must be borne in mind, was only the practice among the best masters (who always had to find their apprentices in clothes); and was the practice among them more and more in the later period of the climbing process, for householders began to inquire as to what sort of trim the boys employed on their premises appeared in. The poorer or the less well-disposed masters clad the urchins who climbed for them in any old rags which their wives could piece together, or in any low-priced garment “picked up” in such places as Rosemary-lane. The fit was no object at all. These ill-clad lads were, moreover, at one time the great majority. The clothes were usually made “at home” by the women, and in the same style, as regarded the seams, &c., as the sacks for soot; but sometimes the work was beyond the art of the sweeper’s wife, and then the aid of some poor neighbour better skilled in the use of her scissors and needle, or of some poor tailor, was called in, on the well-known terms of “a shilling (or 1_s._ 6_d._) a day, and the grub.”

The cost of a climbing-boy’s dress, I was informed, varied, when new, according to the material of which it was made, from 3_s._ 6_d._ to 6_s._ 6_d._ independently of the cost of making, which, in the hands of a tailor who “whipped the cat” (or went out to work at his customer’s houses), would occupy a day, at easy labour, at a cost of 1_s._ 6_d._ (or less) in money, and the “whip-cat’s” meals, perhaps another 1_s._ 6_d._, beer included. As to the cost of a sweeper’s second-hand clothing it is useless to inquire; but I was informed by a now thriving master, that when he was about twelve years old his mistress bought him a “werry tidy jacket, as seemed made for a gen’leman’s son,” in Petticoat-lane, one Sunday morning, for 1_s._ 6_d._; while other things, he said, were “in proportionate.” Shoes and stockings are not included in the cost of the little sweeper’s apparel; and they were, perhaps, always bought second-hand. A few of the best masters (or of those wishing to stand best in their customers’ regards), who sent their boys to church or to Sunday schools, had then a non-working attire for them; either a sweeper’s dress of jacket and trowsers, unsoiled by soot, or the ordinary dress of a poor lad.

The street appearance of the present race of sweepers, all adults, may every here and there bear out Charles Lamb’s dictum, that grown sweepers are by no means attractive. Some of them are broad-shouldered and strongly-built men, who, as they traverse the streets, sometimes look as grim as they are dingy. The chimney-scavager carries the implement of his calling propped on his shoulder, in the way shown in the daguerreotype which I have given. His dress is usually a jacket, waistcoat, and trowsers of dark-coloured corduroy; or instead of a jacket a waistcoat with sleeves. Over this when at work the sweeper often wears a sort of blouse or short smock-frock of coarse strong calico or canvas, which protects the corduroy suit from the soot. In this description of the sweeper’s garb I can but speak of those whose means enable them to attain the comfort of warm apparel in the winter; the poorer part of the trade often shiver shirtless under a blouse which half covers a pair of threadbare trowsers. The cost of the corduroy suit I have mentioned varies, I was told by a sweeper, who put it tersely enough, “from 20_s._ slop, to 40_s._ slap.” The average runs, I believe, from 28_s._ to 33_s._, as regards the better class of the sweepers.

The diet of the journeymen sweepers and the apprentices, and sometimes of their working employer, was described to me as generally after the following fashion. My informant, a journeyman, calculated what his food “stood his master,” as he had once “kept hisself.”

Daily. s. d. Bread and butter and coffee for breakfast 0 2

A saveloy and potatoes, or cabbage; or a “fagot,” with the same vegetables; or fried fish (but not often); or pudding, from a pudding-shop; or soup (a twopenny plate) from a cheap eating-house; average from 2_d._ to 3_d._ 0 2-1/2

Tea, same as breakfast 0 2 ---------- 0 6-1/2

On Sundays the fare was better. They then sometimes had a bit of “prime fat mutton” taken to the oven, with “taturs to bake along with it;” or a “fry of liver, if the old ’oman was in a good humour,” and always a pint of beer apiece. Hence, as some give their men beer, the average amount of 5_s._ or 6_s._ weekly, which I have given as the cost of the “board” to the masters, is made up. The drunken single-handed master-men, I am told, live on beer and “a bite of anything they can get.” I believe there are few complaints of inefficient food.

The food provided by the large or high master sweepers is generally of the same kind as the master and his family partake of; among this class the journeymen are tolerably well provided for.

In the lower-class sweepers, however, the food is not so plentiful nor so good in kind as that provided by the high master sweepers. The expense of keeping a man employed by a large master sometimes ranges as high as 8_s._ a week, but the average, I am told, is about 6_s._ per week; while those employed by the low-class sweepers average about 5_s._ a week. The cost of their lodging may be taken at from 1_s._ to 2_s._ a week extra.

The sweepers in general are, I am assured, fond of oleaginous food; fat broth, fagots, and what is often called “greasy” meat.

They are considered a short-lived people, and among the journeymen, the masters “on their own hook,” &c., few old men are to be met with. In one of the reports of the Board of Health, out of 4312 deaths among males, of the age of 15 and upwards, the mortality among the sweepers, masters and men, was 9, or one in 109 of the whole trade. As the calculation was formed, however, from data supplied by the census of 1841, and on the Post Office Directory, it supplies no reliable information, as I shall show when I come to treat of the nightmen. Many of these men still suffer, I am told, from the chimney-sweeper’s cancer, which is said to arise mainly from uncleanly habits. Some sweepers assure me that they have vomited balls of soot.

As to the abodes of the master sweepers, I can supply the following account of two. The soot, I should observe, is seldom kept long, rarely a month, on the premises of a sweeper, and is in the best “concerns” kept in cellars.

The localities in which many of the sweepers reside are the “lowest” places in the district. Many of the houses in which I found the lower class of sweepers were in a ruinous and filthy condition. The “high-class” sweepers, on the other hand, live in respectable localities, often having back premises sufficiently large to stow away their soot.

I had occasion to visit the house of one of the persons from whom I obtained much information. He is a master in a small way, a sensible man, and was one of the few who are teetotallers. His habitation, though small--being a low house only one story high--was substantially furnished with massive mahogany chairs, table, chests of drawers, &c., while on each side of the fire-place, which was distinctly visible from the street over a hall door, were two buffets, with glass doors, well filled with glass and china vessels. It was a wet night, and a fire burned brightly in the stove, by the light of which might be seen the master of the establishment sitting on one side, while his wife and daughter occupied the other; a neighbour sat before the fire with his back to the door, and altogether it struck me as a comfortable-looking evening party. They were resting and chatting quietly together after the labour of the day, and everything betokened the comfortable circumstances in which the man, by sobriety and industry, had been able to place himself. Yet this man had been a climbing-boy, and one of the unfortunates who had lost his parents when a child, and was apprenticed by the parish to this business. From him I learned that his was not a solitary instance of teetotalism (I have before spoken of another); that, in fact, there were some more, and one in particular, named Brown, who was a good speaker, and devoted himself during his leisure hours at night in advocating the principles which by experience he had found to effect such great good to himself; but he also informed me that the majority of the others were a drunken and dissipated crew, sunk to the lowest degree of misery, yet recklessly spending every farthing they could earn in the public-house.

Different in every respect was another house which I visited in the course of my inquiries, in the neighbourhood of H-----street, Bethnal-green. The house was rented by a sweeper, a master on his own account, and every room in the place was let to sweepers and their wives or women, which, with these men, often signify one and the same thing. The inside of the house looked as dark as a coal-pit; there was an insufferable smell of soot, always offensive to those unaccustomed to it; and every person and every thing which met the eye, even to the caps and gowns of the women, seemed as if they had just been steeped in Indian ink. In one room was a sweep and his woman quarrelling. As I opened the door I caught the words, “I’m d----d if I has it any longer. I’d see you b----y well d----d first, and you knows it.” The savage was intoxicated, for his red eyes flashed through his sooty mask with drunken excitement, and his matted hair, which looked as if it had never known a comb, stood out from his head like the whalebone ribs of his own machine. “B----y Bet,” as he called her, did not seem a whit more sober than her man; and the shrill treble of her voice was distinctly audible till I turned the corner of the street, whither I was accompanied by the master of the house, to whom I had been recommended by one of the fraternity as an intelligent man, and one who knew “a thing or two.” “You see,” he said, as we turned the corner, “there isn’t no use a talkin’ to them ere fellows--they’re all tosticated now, and they doesn’t care nothink for nobody; but they’ll be quiet enough to-morrow, ’cept they yarns somethink, and if they do then they’ll be just as bad to-morrow night. They’re a awful lot, and nobody ill niver do anythink with them.” This man was not by any means in such easy circumstances as the master first mentioned. He was merely a man working for himself, and unable to employ any one else in the business; as is customary with some of these people, he had taken the house he had shown me to let to lodgers of his own class, making something by so doing; though, if his own account be correct, I’m at a loss to imagine how he contrived even to get his rent. From him I obtained the following statement:--

“Yes, I was a climbing-boy, and sarved a rigler printiceship for seven years. I was out on my printiceship when I was fourteen. Father was a silk-weaver, and did all he knew to keep me from being a sweep, but I would be a sweep, and nothink else.” [This is not so very uncommon a predilection, strange as it may seem.] “So father, when he saw it was no use, got me bound printice. Father’s alive now, and near 90 years of age. I don’t know why I wished to be a sweep, ’cept it was this--there was sweeps always lived about here, and I used to see the boys with lots of money a tossin’ and gamblin’, and wished to have money too. You see they got money where they swept the chimneys; they used to get 2_d._ or 3_d._ for theirselves in a day, and sometimes 6_d._ from the people of the house, and that’s the way they always had plenty of money. I niver thought anythink of the climbing; it wasn’t so bad at all as some people would make you believe. There are two or three ways of climbing. In wide flues you climb with your elbows and your legs spread out, your feet pressing against the sides of the flue; but in narrow flues, such as nine-inch ones, you must slant it; you must have your sides in the angles, it’s wider there, and go up just that way.” [Here he threw himself into position--placing one arm close to his side, with the palm of the hand turned outwards, as if pressing the side of the flue, and extending the other arm high above his head, the hand apparently pressing in the same manner.] “There,” he continued, “that’s slantin’. You just put yourself in that way, and see how small you make yourself. I niver got to say stuck myself, but a many of them did; yes, and were taken out dead. They were smothered for want of air, and the fright, and a stayin’ so long in the flue; you see the waistband of their trowsers sometimes got turned down in the climbing, and in narrow flues, when not able to get it up, then they stuck. I had a boy once--we were called to sweep a chimney down at Poplar. When we went in he looked up the flues, ‘Well, what is it like?’ I said. ‘Very narrow,’ says he, ‘don’t think I can get up there;’ so after some time we gets on top of the house, and takes off the chimney-pot, and has a look down--it was wider a’ top, and I thought as how he could go down. ‘You had better buff it, Jim,’ says I. I suppose you know what that means; but Jim wouldn’t do it, and kept his trowsers on. So down he goes, and gets on very well till he comes to the shoulder of the flue, and then he couldn’t stir. He shouts down, ‘I’m stuck.’ I shouts up and tells him what to do. ‘Can’t move,’ says he, ‘I’m stuck hard and fast.’ Well, the people of the house got fretted like, but I says to them, ‘Now my boy’s stuck, but for Heaven’s sake don’t make a word of noise; don’t say a word, good or bad, and I’ll see what I can do.’ So I locks the door, and buffs it, and forces myself up till I could reach him with my hand, and as soon as he got his foot on my hand he begins to prize himself up, and gets loosened, and comes out at the top again. I was stuck myself, but I was stronger nor he, and I manages to get out again. Now I’ll be bound to say if there was another master there as would kick up a row and a-worrited, that ere boy ’ud a niver come out o’ that ere flue alive. There was a many o’ them lost their lives in that way. Most all the printices used to come from the ‘House’ (workhouse.) There was nobody to care for them, and some masters used them very bad. I was out of my time at fourteen, and began to get too stout to go up the flues; so after knockin’ about for a year or so, as I could do nothink else, I goes to sea on board a man-o’-war, and was away four year. Many of the boys, when they got too big and useless, used to go to sea in them days--they couldn’t do nothink else. Yes, many of them went for sodgers; and I know some who went for Gipsies, and others who went for play-actors, and a many who got on to be swell-mobsmen, and thieves, and housebreakers, and the like o’ that ere. There ain’t nothink o’ that sort a-goin’ on now since the Ack of Parliament. When I got back from sea father asked me to larn his business; so I takes to the silk-weaving and larned it, and then married a weaveress, and worked with father for a long time. Father was very well off--well off and comfortable for a poor man--but trade was good then. But it got bad afterwards, and none on us was able to live at it; so I takes to the chimney-sweeping again. A man might manage to live somehow at the sweeping, but the weaving was o’ no use. It was the furrin silks as beat us all up, that’s the whole truth. Yet they tells us as how they was a-doin’ the country good; but they may tell that to the marines--the sailors won’t believe it--not a word on it. I’ve stuck to the sweeping ever since, and sometimes done very fair at it; but since the Ack there’s so many leeks come to it that I don’t know how they live--they must be eatin’ one another up.

“Well, since you ask then, I can tell you that our people don’t care much about law; they don’t understand anythink about politics much; they don’t mind things o’ that ere kind. They only minds to get drunk when they can. Some on them fellows as you seed in there niver cleans theirselves from one year’s end to the other. They’ll kick up a row soon enough, with Chartists or anybody else. I thinks them Chartists are a weak-minded set; they was too much a frightened at nothink,--a hundred o’ them would run away from one blue-coat, and that wasn’t like men. I was often at Chartist meetings, and if they’d only do all they said there was a plenty to stick to them, for there’s a somethink wants to be done very bad, for everythink is a-gettin’ worser and worser every day. I used to do a good trade, but now I don’t yarn a shilling a day all through the year (?). I may walk at this time three or four miles and not get a chimney to sweep, and then get only a sixpence or threepence, and sometimes nothink. It’s a starvin’, that’s what it is; there’s so much ‘querying’ a-goin’ on. Querying? that’s what we calls under-working[61]. If they’d all fix a riglar price we might do very well still. I’m 50 years of age, or thereabouts. I don’t know much about the story of Mrs. Montague; it was afore my time. I heard of it though. I heard my mother talk about it; she used to read it out of books; she was a great reader--none on ’em could stand afore her for that. I was often at the dinner--the masters’ dinner--that was for the boys; but that’s all done away long ago, since the Ack of Parliament. I can’t tell how many there was at it, but there’s such a lot it’s impossible to tell. How could any one tell all the sweeps as is in London? I’m sure I can’t, and I’m sure nobody else can.”

Some years back the sweepers’ houses were often indicated by an elaborate sign, highly coloured. A sweeper, accompanied by a “chummy” (once a common name for the climbing-boy, being a corruption of chimney), was depicted on his way to a red brick house, from the chimneys of which bright yellow flames were streaming. Below was the detail of the things undertaken by the sweep, such as the extinction of fires in chimneys, the cleaning of smoke-jacks, &c., &c. A few of these signs, greatly faded, may be seen still. A sweeper, who is settled in what is accounted a “genteel neighbourhood,” has now another way of making his calling known. He leaves a card whenever he hears of a new comer, a tape being attached, so that it can be hung up in the kitchen, and thus the servants are always in possession of his address. The following is a customary style:--

“Chimneys swept by the improved machine, much patronized by the Humane Society.

“W. H., Chimney Sweeper and Nightman, 1, ---- Mews, in returning thanks to the inhabitants of the surrounding neighbourhood for the patronage he has hitherto received, begs to inform them that he sweeps all kinds of chimneys and flues in the best manner.

“W. H., attending to the business himself, cleans smoke-jacks, cures smoky coppers, and extinguishes chimneys when on fire, with the greatest care and safety; and, by giving the strictest personal attendance to business, performs what he undertakes with cleanliness and punctuality, whereby he hopes to ensure a continuance of their favours and recommendations.

“Clean cloths for upper apartments. Soot-doors to any size fixed. Observe the address, 1, ---- Mews, near ----.”

At the top of this card is an engraving of the machine; at the foot a rude sketch of a nightman’s cart, with men at work. All the cards I saw reiterated the address, so that no mistake might lead the customer to a rival tradesman.

As to their politics, the sweepers are somewhat similar to the dustmen and costermongers. A fixed hatred to all constituted authority, which they appear to regard as the police and the “beaks,” seems to be the sum total of their principles. Indeed, it almost assumes the character of a fixed law, that persons and classes of persons who are themselves disorderly, and to a certain extent lawless, always manifest the most supreme contempt for the conservators of law and order in every degree. The police are therefore hated heartily, magistrates are feared and abominated, and Queen, Lords, and Commons, and every one in authority, if known anything about, are considered as natural enemies. A costermonger who happened to be present while I was making inquiries on this subject, broke in with this remark, “The costers is the chaps--the government can’t do nothink with them--they allus licks the government.” The sweepers have a sovereign contempt for all Acts of Parliament, because the only Act that had any reference to themselves “threw open,” as they call it, their business to all who were needy enough and who had the capability of availing themselves of it. Like the “dusties” they are, I am informed, in their proper element in times of riot and confusion; but, unlike them, they are, to a man, Chartists, understanding it too, and approving of it, not because it would be calculated to establish a new order of things, but in the hope that, in the transition from one system to the other, there might be plenty of noise and riot, and in the vague idea that in some indefinable manner good must necessarily accrue to themselves from any change that might take place. This I believe to be in perfect keeping with the sentiments of similar classes of people in every country in the world.

The journeymen lay by no money when in work, as a fund to keep them when incapacitated by sickness, accident, or old age. There are, however, a few exceptions to the general improvidence of the class; some few belong to sick and benefit societies, others are members of burial clubs. Where, however, this is not the case, and a sweeper becomes unable, through illness, to continue his work, the mode usually adopted is to make a raffle for the benefit of the sufferer; the same means are resorted to at the death of a member of the trade. When a chimney-sweeper becomes infirm through age, he has mostly, if not invariably, no refuge but the workhouse.

The chimney-sweepers generally are regardless of the marriage ceremony, and when they do live with a woman it is in a state of concubinage. These women are always among the lowest of the street-girls--such as lucifer-match and orange girls, some of the very poorest of the coster girls, and girls brought up among the sweepers. They are treated badly by them, and often enough left without any remorse. The women are equally as careless in these matters as the men, and exchange one paramour for another with the same levity, so that there is a promiscuous intercourse continually going on among them. I am informed that, among the worst class of sweepers living with women, not one in 50 is married. To these couples very few children are born; but I am not able to state the proportion as compared with other classes.

There are some curious customs among the London sweepers which deserve notice. Their May-day festival is among the best known. The most intelligent of the masters tell me that they have taken this “from the milkmen’s garland” (of which an engraving has been given). Formerly, say they, on the first of May the milkmen of London went through the streets, performing a sort of dance, for which they received gratuities from their customers. The music to which they danced was simply brass plates mounted on poles, from the circumference of which plates depended numerous bells of different tones, according to size; these poles were adorned with leaves and flowers, indicative of the season, and may have been a relic of one of the ancient pageants or mummeries.

The sweepers, however, by adapting themselves more to the rude taste of the people, appear to have completely supplanted the milkmen, who are now never seen in pageantry. In Strutt’s “Sports and Pastimes of the People of England,” I find the following with reference to the milk-people:--

“It is at this time,” that is in May, says the author of one of the papers in the Spectator, “we see brisk young wenches in the country parishes dancing round the Maypole. It is likewise on the first day of this month that we see the ruddy milkmaid exerting herself in a most sprightly manner under a pyramid of silver tankards, and, like the Virgin Tarpeia, oppressed by the costly ornaments which her benefactors lay upon her. These decorations of silver cups, tankards, and salvers, were borrowed for the purpose, and hung round the milk-pails, with the addition of flowers and ribands, which the maidens carried upon their heads when they went to the houses of their customers, and danced in order to obtain a small gratuity from each of them. In a set of prints, called ‘Tempest’s Cries of London,’ there is one called the ‘Merry Milkmaid,’ whose proper name was Kate Smith. She is dancing with the milk-pail, decorated as above mentioned, upon her head. Of late years the plate, with the other decorations, were placed in a pyramidical form, and carried by two chairmen upon a wooden horse. The maidens walked before it, and performed the dance without any incumbrance. I really cannot discover what analogy the silver tankards and salvers can have to the business of the milkmaids. I have seen them act with much more propriety upon this occasion, when, in place of these superfluous ornaments, they substituted a cow. The animal had her horns gilt, and was nearly covered with ribands of various colours formed into bows and roses, and interspersed with green oaken leaves and bunches of flowers.”

With reference to the May-day festival of the sweepers the same author says:--“The chimney-sweepers of London have also singled out the first of May for their festival, at which time they parade the streets in companies, disguised in various manners. Their dresses are usually decorated with gilt paper and other mock fineries; they have their shovels and brushes in their hands, which they rattle one upon the other; and to this rough music they jump about in imitation of dancing. Some of the larger companies have a fiddler with them, and a Jack in the Green, as well as a Lord and Lady of the May, who follow the minstrel with great stateliness, and dance as occasion requires. The Jack in the Green is a piece of pageantry consisting of a hollow frame of wood or wicker-work, made in the form of a sugar-loaf, but open at the bottom, and sufficiently large and high to receive a man. The frame is covered with green leaves and bunches of flowers, interwoven with each other, so that the man within may be completely concealed, who dances with his companions; and the populace are mightily pleased with the oddity of the moving pyramid.”

Since the date of the above, the sweepers have greatly improved on their pageant, substituting for the fiddle the more noisy and appropriate music of the street-showman’s drum and pipes, and adding to their party several diminutive imps, no doubt as representatives of the climbing-boys, clothed in caps, jackets, and trowsers, thickly covered with party-coloured shreds. These still make a show of rattling their shovels and brushes, but the clatter is unheard alongside the thunders of the drum. In this manner they go through the various streets for three days, obtaining money at various places, and on the third night hold a feast at one of their favourite public-houses, where all the sooty tribes resort, and, in company with their wives or girls, keep up their festivity till the next morning. I find that this festival is beginning to disappear in many parts of London, but it still holds its ground, and is as highly enjoyed as ever, in all the eastern localities of the metropolis.

It is but seldom that any of the large masters go out on May-day; this custom is generally confined to the little masters and their men. The time usually spent on these occasions is four days, during which as much as from 2_l._ to 4_l._ a day is collected; the sums obtained on the three first days are divided according to the several kinds of work performed. But the proceeds of the fourth day are devoted to a supper. The average gains of the several performers on these occasions are as follows:--

My lady, who acts as Columbine, and receives 2_s._ per day.

My lord, who is often the master himself, but usually one of the journeymen 3_s._ „

Clown 3_s._ „

Drummer 4_s._ „

Jack in the green, who is often an individual acquaintance, and does not belong to the trade 3_s._ „

And the boys, who have no term term applied to them, receive from 1_s._ to 1_s._ 6_d._ „

The share accruing to the boys is often spent in purchasing some article of clothing for them, but the money got by the other individuals is mostly spent in drink.

The sweepers, however, not only go out on May-day, but likewise on the 5th of November. On the last Guy-Fawkes day, I am informed, some of them received not only pence from the public, but silver and gold. “It was quite a harvest,” they say. One of this class, who got up a gigantic Guy Fawkes and figure of the Pope on the 5th of November, 1850, cleared, I am informed, 10_l._ over and above all expenses.

For many years, also, the sweepers were in the habit of partaking of a public dinner on the 1st of May, provided for every climbing-boy who thought proper to attend, at the expense of the Hon. Mrs. Montagu. The romantic origin of this custom, from all I could learn on the subject, is this:--The lady referred to, at the time a widow, lost her son, then a boy of tender years. Inquiries were set on foot, and all London heard of the mysterious disappearance of the child, but no clue could be found to trace him out. It was supposed that he was kidnapped, and the search at length was given up in despair. A long time afterwards a sweeper was employed to cleanse the chimneys of Mrs. Montagu’s house, by Portman-square, and for this purpose, as was usual at the time, sent a climbing-boy up the chimney, who from that moment was lost to him. The child did not return the way he went up, but it is supposed that in his descent he got into a wrong flue, and found himself, on getting out of the chimney, in one of the bedrooms. Wearied with his labour, it is said that he mechanically crept between the sheets, all black and sooty as he was. In this state he was found fast asleep by the housekeeper. The delicacy of his features and the soft tones of his voice interested the woman. She acquainted the family with the strange circumstance, and, when introduced to them with a clean face, his voice and appearance reminded them of their lost child. It may have been that the hardships he endured at so early an age had impaired his memory, for he could give no account of himself; but it was evident, from his manners and from the ease which he exhibited, that he was no stranger to such places, and at length, it is said, the Hon. Mrs. Montagu recognised in him her long-lost son. The identity, it was understood, was proved beyond doubt. He was restored to his rank in society, and in order the better to commemorate this singular restoration, and the fact of his having been a climbing-boy, his mother annually provided an entertainment on the 1st of May, at White Conduit House, for all the climbing-boys of London who thought proper to partake of it. This annual feast was kept up during the lifetime of the lady, and, as might be expected, was numerously attended, for since there were no question asked and no document required to prove any of the guests to be climbing-boys, very many of the precocious urchins of the metropolis used to blacken their faces for this special occasion. This annual feast continued, as I have said, as long as the lady lived. Her son continued it only for three or four years afterwards, and then, I am told, left the country, and paid no further attention to the matter.

Of the story of the young Montagu, Charles Lamb has given the following account:--

“In one of the state-beds at Arundel Castle, a few years since--under a ducal canopy (that seat of the Howards is an object of curiosity to visitors, chiefly for its beds, in which the late duke was especially a connoisseur)--encircled with curtains of delicatest crimson, with starry coronets interwoven--folded between a pair of sheets whiter and softer than the lap where Venus lulled Ascanius--was discovered by chance, after all methods of search had failed, at noon-day, fast asleep, a lost chimney-sweeper. The little creature having somehow confounded his passage among the intricacies of those lordly chimneys, by some unknown aperture had alighted upon this magnificent chamber, and, tired with his tedious explorations, was unable to resist the delicious invitement to repose, which he there saw exhibited; so, creeping between the sheets very quietly, he laid his black head on the pillow and slept like a young Howard.”.... “A high instinct,” adds Lamb, “was at work in the case, or I am greatly mistaken. Is it probable that a poor child of that description, with whatever weariness he might be visited, would have ventured under such a penalty as he would be taught to expect, to uncover the sheets of a duke’s bed, and deliberately to lay himself down between them, when the rug or the carpet presented an obvious couch still far above his pretensions?--is this probable, I would ask, if the great power of nature, which I contend for, had not been manifested within him, prompting to the adventure? Doubtless, this young nobleman (for such my mind misgives me he must be) was allured by some memory not amounting to full consciousness of his condition in infancy, when he was used to be lapt by his mother or his nurse in just such sheets as he there found, into which he was now but creeping back as into his proper incubation (incunabula) and resting place. By no other theory than by his sentiment of a pre-existent state (as I may call it) can I explain a deed so venturous.”

There is a strong strain of romance throughout the stories of the lost and found young Montagu. I conversed with some sweepers on the subject. The majority had not so much as heard of the occurrence, but two who had heard of it--both climbing-boys in their childhood--had heard that the little fellow was found in his mother’s house. In a small work, the “Chimney-Sweepers’ Friend,” got up in aid of the Society for the Supersedence of Climbing Boys, by some benevolent Quaker ladies and others (the Quakers having been among the warmest supporters of the suppression of climbers), and “arranged” (the word “edited” not being used) by J. Montgomery, the case of the little Montagu is not mentioned, excepting in two or three vague poetical allusions.

The account given by Lamb (although pronounced apocryphal by some) appears to be the more probable version; and to the minds of many is shown to be conclusively authentic, as I understand that, when Arundel Castle is shown to visitors, the bed in which the child was found is pointed out; nor is it likely that in such a place the story of the ducal bed and the little climbing-boy would be invented.

The following account was given by the wife of a respectable man (now a middle-aged woman) and she had often heard it from her mother, who passed a long life in the neighbourhood of Mrs. Montagu’s residence:--

“Lady M. had a son of tender years, who was supposed to have been stolen for the sake of his clothes. Some time after, there was an occasion when the sweeps were necessary at Montagu House. A servant noticed one of the boys, being at first attracted by his superior manner, and her curiosity being excited fancied a resemblance in him to the lost child. She questioned his master respecting him, who represented that he had found him crying and without a home, and thereupon took him in, and brought him up to his trade. The boy was questioned apart from his master, as to the treatment he received; his answers were favourable; and the consequence was, a compensation was given to the man, and the boy was retained. All doubt was removed as to his identity.”

The annual feast at “White Condick,” so agreeable to the black fraternity, was afterwards continued in another form, and was the origin of a well-known society among the master sweepers, which continued in existence till the abolition of the climbing-boys by Act of Parliament. The masters and the better class of men paid a certain sum yearly, for the purpose of binding the children of the contributors to other trades. In order to increase the funds of this institution, as the dinner to the boys at White Conduit House was an established thing, the masters continued it, and the boys of every master who belonged to the society went in a sort of state to the usual place of entertainment every 1st of May, where they were regaled as formerly. Many persons were in the habit of flocking on this day to White Conduit House to witness the festivities of the sweepers on this occasion, and usually contributed something towards the society. As soon, however, as the Act passed, this also was discontinued, and it is now one of the legends connected with the class.

SWEEPING OF THE CHIMNEYS OF STEAM-VESSELS.

The sweeping of the flues in the boilers of steam-boats, in the Port of London, and also of land boilers in manufactories, is altogether a distinct process, as the machine cannot be used until such time as the parties who are engaged in this business travel a long way through the flues, and reach the lower part of the chimney or funnel where it communicates with the boilers and receives the smoke in its passage to the upper air. The boilers in the large sea-going steamers are of curious construction; in some large steamers there are four separate boilers with three furnaces in each, the flues of each boiler uniting in one beneath the funnel; immediately beyond the end of the furnace, which is marked by a little wall constructed of firebrick to prevent the coals and fire from running off the firebars, there is a large open space very high and wide, and which space after a month’s steaming is generally filled up with soot, somewhat resembling a snow drift collected in a hollow, were it not for its colour and the fact that it is sometimes in a state of ignition; it is, at times, so deep, that a man sinks to his middle in it the moment he steps across the firebridge. Above his head, and immediately over the end of the furnace, he may perceive an opening in what otherwise would appear to be a solid mass of iron; up to this opening, which resembles a doorway, the sweeper must clamber the best way he can, and when he succeeds in this he finds himself in a narrow passage completely dark, but with so strong a current of air rushing through it from the furnaces beneath towards the funnel overhead that it is with difficulty the wick lamp which he carries in his hand can be kept burning. This passage, between the iron walls on either side, is lofty enough for a tall man to stand upright in, but does not seem at first of any great extent; as he goes on, however, to what appears the end, he finds out his mistake, by coming to a sharp turn which conducts him back again towards the open space in the centre of the boiler, but which is now hid from him by the hollow iron walls which on every side surround him, and within which the waters boil and seethe as the living flames issuing from the furnaces rush and roar through these winding passages; another sharp turn leads back to the front of the boilers, and so on for seven or eight turns, backwards and forwards, like the windings in a maze, till at the last turn a light suddenly breaks upon him, and, looking up, he perceives the hollow tube of the funnel, black and ragged with the adhering soot.

Here, then, the labour of the sweeper commences: he is armed with a brush and shovel, and laying down his lamp in a space from which he has previously shovelled away the soot, which in many parts of the passage is knee deep, he brushes down the soot from the sides and roof of the passage, which being done he shovels it before him into the next winding; this process he repeats till he reaches, by degrees, the opening where he ascended. Whenever the accumulation of soot is so great that it is likely to block up the passage in the progress of his work, he wades through and shovels as much as he thinks necessary out of the opening into the large space behind the furnaces, then resumes his work, brushing and shovelling by turns, till the flues are cleared; when this is accomplished, he descends, and the fire bars being previously removed, he shovels the soot, now all collected together, over the firebridge and into the ashpit of the furnace; other persons stand ready in the stoke-hole armed with long iron rakes, with which they drag out the soot from the ashpits; and others shovel it into sacks, which they make fast to tackle secured to the upper deck, by which they “bowse” it up out of the engine-room, and either discharge it overboard or put it into boats preparatory to being taken ashore. In this manner an immense quantity of soot is removed from the boilers of a large foreign-going steamer when she gets into port, after a month or six weeks’ steaming, having burned in that time perhaps 700 or 800 tons of coal: this work is always performed by the stokers and coal-trimmers in the foreign ports, who seldom, if ever, get anything extra for it, although it is no uncommon thing for some of them to be ill for a week after it.

In the port of London, however, the sweeper comes into requisition, who, besides going through the process already described, brings his machine with him, and is thus enabled to cleanse the funnel, and to increase the quantity of soot. Some of the master sweepers, who have the cleansing of the steam-boats in the river, and the sweeping of boiler flues are obliged to employ a good many men, and make a great deal of money by their business. The use of anthracite coals, however, and some modern improvements, by which air at a certain temperature is admitted to certain parts of the furnace, have in many instances greatly lessened, if they have not altogether prevented, the accumulation of soot, by the prevention of smoke; and it seems quite possible, from the statements made by many eminent scientific and practical men who were examined before a select committee of the House of Commons, presided over by Mr. Mackinnon, in 1843, that by having properly-constructed stoves, and a sufficient quantity of pure air properly admitted, not only less fuel might be burned, and produce a greater amount of heat, but soot would cease to accumulate, so that the necessity for sweepers would be no longer felt, and there would be no fear of fires from the ignition of soot in the flues of chimneys; blacks and smoke, moreover, would take their departure together; and with them the celebrated London fog might also, in a great measure, disappear.

The funnels of steamers are generally swept at from 8_d._ to 1_s._ 6_d._ per funnel. The Chelsea steamers are swept by Mr. Allbrook, of Chelsea; the Continental, by Mr. Hawsey, of Rosemary-lane; and the Irish and Scotch steamers, by Mr. Tuff, who resides in the East London district.

OF THE “RAMONEUR” COMPANY.

The Patent Ramoneur Company demands, perhaps, a special notice. It was formed between four and five years ago, and has now four stations: one in Little Harcourt-street, Bryanstone-square; another in New-road, Sloane-street; a third in Charles-place, Euston-square; and the fourth in William-street, Portland-town.

“This Company has been formed,” the prospectus stated, “for the purpose of cleansing chimneys with the Patent Ramoneur Machine, and introducing various other improvements in the business of chimney sweeping. Chimneys are daily swept with this machine where others have failed.”

The Company charge the usual prices, and all the men employed have been brought up as sweepers. The patent machine is thus described:--

“The Patent Ramoneur Machine consists of four brushes, forming a square head, which, by means of elastic springs, contracts or expands, according to the space it moves in; the rods attached to this head or brush are supplied at intervals with a universal spring-joint, capable of turning even a right angle, and the whole is surmounted with a double revolving ball, having also a universal spring-joint, which leads the brush with certainty into every corner, cleansing its route most perfectly.”

The recommendation held out to the public is, that the patented chimney-machine sweeps cleaner than that in general use, and for the reasons assigned; and that, being constructed with more and better springs, it is capable of “turning even a right angle,” which the common machine often leaves unswept. This was and is commonly said of the difference between the cleansing of the chimney by a climbing-boy and that effected by the present mechanical appliances in general use--the boy was “better round a corner.”

The patent machines now worked in London are fifteen in number, and fifteen men are thus employed. Each man receives as a weekly wage, always in money, 14_s._, besides a suit of clothes yearly. The suit consists of a jacket, waistcoat, and trousers, of dark-coloured corduroy; also a “frock” or blouse, to wear when at work, and a cap; the whole being worth from 35_s._ to 40_s._ This payment is about equivalent to that received weekly by the journeymen in the regular or honourable trade; for although higher in nominal amount as a weekly remuneration, the Ramoneur operatives are not allowed any perquisites whatever. The resident or manager at each station is also a working chimney-sweeper for the Company, and at the same rate as the others, his advantage being that he lives rent-free. At one station which I visited, the resident had two comfortable-looking up-stairs’-rooms (the stations being all in small streets), where he and his wife lived; while the “cellar,” which was indeed but the ground floor, although somewhat lower than the doorstep, was devoted to business purposes, the soot being stored there. It was boarded off into separate compartments, one being at the time quite full of soot. All seemed as clean and orderly as possible. The rent of those two rooms, unfurnished, would not be less than 4_s._ or 5_s._ a week, so that the resident’s payment may be put at about 50_l._ a year. The patent-machine operatives sweep, on an average, the same number of chimneys each, as a master chimney-sweeper’s men in a good way of business in the ordinary trade.

OF THE BRISK AND SLACK SEASONS, AND THE CASUAL TRADE AMONG THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPERS.

As among the rubbish-carters in the unskilled, and the tailors and shoemakers of the skilled trades, the sweepers’ trade also has its slackness and its briskness, and from the same cause--the difference in the seasons. The seasons affecting the sweepers’ trade are, however, the natural seasons of the year, the recurring summer and winter, while the seasons influencing the employment of West-end tailors are the arbitrary seasons of fashion.

The chimney-sweepers’ brisk season is in the winter, and especially at what may be in the respective households the periods of the resumption and discontinuance of sitting-room fires.

The sweepers’ seasons of briskness and slackness, indeed, may be said then to be ruled by the thermometer, for the temperature causes the increase or diminution of the number of fires, and consequently of the production of soot. The thermometrical period for fires appears to be from October to the following April, both inclusive (seven months), for during that season the temperature is below 50°. I have seen it stated, and I believe it is merely a statement of a fact, that at one time, and even now in some houses, it was customary enough for what were called “great families” to have a fixed day (generally Michaelmas-day, Sept. 29) on which to commence fires in the sitting-rooms, and another stated day (often May-day, May 1) on which to discontinue them, no matter what might be the mean temperature, whether too warm for the enjoyment of a fire, or too cold comfortably to dispense with it. Some wealthy persons now, I am told--such as call themselves “economists,” while their servants and dependants apply the epithet “mean”--defer fires until the temperature descends to 42°, or from November to March, both inclusive, a season of only five months.

As this question of the range of the thermometer evidently influences the seasons, and therefore, the casual labour of the sweepers, I will give the following interesting account of the changing temperature of the metropolis, month by month, the information being derived from the observations of 25 years (1805 to 1830), by Mr. Luke Howard. The average temperature appears to be:--

Degrees. January 35·1 February 38·9 March 42·0 April 47·5 May 54·9 June 59·6 July 63·1 August 57·1 September 50·1 October 42·4 November 41·9 December 38·3

London, I may further state, is 2-1/2 degrees warmer than the country, especially in winter, owing to the shelter of buildings and the multiplicity of the fires in the houses and factories. In the summer the metropolis is about 1-1/4 degree hotter than the country, owing to want of free air in London, and to a cause little thought about--the reverberations from narrow streets. In spring and autumn, however, the temperature of both town and country is nearly equal.

In London, moreover, the nights are 11·3 degrees colder than the days; in the country they are 15·4 degrees colder. The extreme ranges of the temperature in the day, in the capital, are from 20° to 90°. The thermometer has fallen below zero in the night time, but not frequently.

In London the hottest months are 28 degrees warmer than the coldest; the temperature of July, which is the hottest month, being 63·1; and that of January, the coldest month, 35·1 degrees.

The month in which there are the greatest number of extremes of heat and cold is January. In February and December there are (generally speaking) only two such extreme variations, and five in July; through the other months, however, the extremes are more diffused, and there are only two spring and two autumn months (April and June--September and November), which are not exposed to great differences of temperature.

The mean temperature assumes a rate of increase in the different months, which may be represented by a curve nearly equal and parallel with one representing the progress of the sun in declination.

Hoar-frosts occur when the thermometer is about 39°, and the dense yellow fogs, so peculiar to London, are the most frequent in the months of November, December, and January, whilst the temperature ranges below 40°.

The busy season in the chimney-sweepers’ trade commences at the beginning of November, and continues up to the month of May; during the remainder of the year the trade is “slack.” When the slack season has set in nearly 100 men are thrown out of employment. These, as well as many of the single-handed masters, resort to other kinds of employment. Some turn costermongers, others tinkers, knife-grinders, &c., and others migrate to the country and get a job at haymaking, or any other kind of unskilled labour. Even during the brisk season there are upwards of 50 men out of employment; some of these occasionally contrive to get a machine of their own, and go about “knulling,”--getting a job where they can.

Many of the master sweepers employ in the summer months only two journeymen, whereas they require three in the winter months; but this, I am informed, is not the general average, and that it will be more correct to compute it for the whole trade, in the proportion of two and a half to two. We may, then, calculate that one-fourth of the entire trade is displaced during the slack season.

This, then, may be taken as the extent of casual labour, with all the sufferings it entails upon improvident, and even upon careful working-men.

A youth casually employed as a sweeper gave the following account:--“I jobs for the sweeps sometimes, sir, as I’d job for anybody else, and if you have any herrands to go, and will send me, I’ll be unkimmon thankful. I haven’t no father and don’t remember one, and mother might do well but for the ruin (gin). I calls it ‘ruin’ out of spite. No, I don’t care for it myself. I like beer ten to a farthing to it. She’s a ironer, sir, a stunning good one, but I don’t like to talk about her, for she might yarn a hatful of browns--3_s._ 6_d._ a day; and when she has pulled up for a month or more it’s stunning is the difference. I’d rather not be asked more about that. Her great fault against me is as I won’t settle. I was one time put to a woman’s shoemaker as worked for a ware’us. He was a relation, and I was to go prentice if it suited. But I couldn’t stand his confining ways, and I’m sartain sure that he only wanted me for some tin mother said she’d spring if all was square. He was bad off, and we lived bad, but he always pretended he was going to be stunning busy. So I hooked it. I’d other places--a pot-boy’s was one, but no go. None suited.

“Well, I can keep myself now by jobbing, leastways I can partly, for I have a crib in a corner of mother’s room, and my rent’s nothing, and when she’s all right I’m all right, and she gets better as I grows bigger, I think. Well, I don’t know what I’d like to be; something like a lamp-lighter, I think. Well, I look out for sweep jobs among others, and get them sometimes. I don’t know how often. Sometimes three mornings a week for one week; then none for a month. Can any one live by jobbing that way for the sweeps? No, sir, nor get a quarter of a living; but it’s a help. I know some very tidy sweeps now. I’m sure I don’t know what they are in the way of trade. O, yes, now you ask that, I think they’re masters. I’ve had 6_d._ and half-a-pint of beer for a morning’s work, jobbing like. I carry soot for them, and I’m lent a sort of jacket, or a wrap about me, to keep it off my clothes--though a Jew wouldn’t sometimes look at ’em--and there’s worser people nor sweeps. Sometimes I’ll get only 2_d._ or 3_d._ a day for helping that way, a carrying soot. I don’t know nothing about weights or bushels, but I know I’ve found it ---- heavy.

“The way, you see, sir, is this here: I meets a sweep as knows me by sight, and he says, ‘Come along, Tom’s not at work, and I want you. I have to go it harder, so you carry the soot to our place to save my time, and join me again at No. 39.’ That’s just the ticket of it. Well, no; I wouldn’t mind being a sweep for myself with my own machine; but I’d rather be a lamp-lighter. How many help sweeps as I do? I can’t at all say. No, I don’t know whether it’s 10, or 20, or 100, or 1000. I’m no scholard, sir, that’s one thing. But it’s very seldom such as me’s wanted by them. I can’t tell what I get for jobbing for sweeps in a year. I can’t guess at it, but it’s not so much, I think, as from other kinds of jobbing. Yes, sir, I haven’t no doubt that the t’others as jobs for sweeps is in the same way as me. I think I may do as much as any of ’em that way, quite as much.”

OF THE “LEEKS” AMONG THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPERS.

The Leeks are men who have not been brought up to the trade of chimney sweeping, but have adopted it as a speculation, and are so called from their entering green, or inexperienced, into the business. There are I find as many as 200 leeks altogether among the master chimney-sweepers of the metropolis. Of the “high masters” the greater portion are leeks--no less than 92 out of 106. I was informed that one of this class was formerly a solicitor, others had been ladies’ shoemakers, and others master builders and bricklayers. Among the lower-class sweepers who have taken to this trade, there are dustmen, scavagers, bricklayers’ labourers, soldiers, costermongers, tinkers, and various other unskilled labourers.

The leeks are regarded with considerable dislike by the class of masters who have been regularly brought up to the business, and served their apprenticeships as climbing-boys. These look upon the leeks as men who intrude upon, or interfere with, their natural and, as they account it, legal rights--declaring that only such as have been brought up to the business should be allowed to establish themselves in it as masters. The chimney-sweepers, as far as I can learn, have never possessed any guild, or any especial trade regulations, and this opinion of their rights being invaded by the leeks arises most probably from their knowledge that during the climbing-boy system every lad so employed, unless the son of his employer, was obliged to be apprenticed.

This jealousy towards the leeks does not at all affect the operative sweepers, as some of these leeks are good masters, and among them, perhaps, is to be found the majority of the capitalists of the chimney-sweeping trade, paying the best wages, and finding their journeymen proper food and lodging. Into whatever district I travelled I heard the operative chimney-sweepers speak highly in favour of some of the leeks.

Many of the small masters, however, said “it were a shame” for persons who had never known the horrors of climbing to come into the trade and take the bread out of the mouths of those who had undergone the drudgery of the climbing system; and there appears to be some little justice in their remarks.

Since the introduction of machines into the chimney-sweeping trade the masters have increased considerably. In 1816 there were 200 masters, and now there are 350. Before the machines were introduced, the high master sweepers or “great gentlemen,” as they were called, numbered only about 20; their present number is 106. The lower-class and master-men sweepers, on the other hand, were, under the climbing system, from 150 to 180 in number; but at present there are as many as 240 odd. The majority of these fresh hands are “leeks,” not having been bred to the business.

OF THE INFERIOR CHIMNEY-SWEEPERS--THE “KNULLERS” AND “QUERIERS.”

The majority of occupations in all civilized communities are divisible into two distinct classes, the employers and the employed. The employers are necessarily capitalists to a greater or less extent, providing generally the materials and implements necessary for the work, as well as the subsistence of the workmen, in the form of wages and appropriating the proceeds of the labour, while the employed are those who, for the sake of the present subsistence supplied to them, undertake to do the requisite work for the employer. In some few trades these two functions are found to be united in the same individuals. The class known as peasant proprietors among the cultivators of the soil are at once the labourers and the owners of the land and stock. The cottiers, on the other hand, though renting the land of the proprietor, are, so to speak, peasant farmers, tilling the land for themselves rather than doing so at wages for some capitalist tenant. In handicrafts and manufactures the same combination of functions is found to prevail. In the clothing districts the domestic workers are generally their own masters, and so again in many other branches of production. These trading operatives are known by different names in different trades. In the shoe trade, for instance, they are called “chamber-masters,” in the “cabinet trade” they are termed “garret-masters,” and in “the cooper’s trade” the name for them is “small trading-masters.” Some style them “master-men,” and others, “single-handed masters.” In all occupations, however, the master-men are found to be especially injurious to the interests of the entire body of both capitalists and operatives, for, owing to the limited extent of their resources, they are obliged to find a market for their work, no matter at what the sacrifice, and hence by their excessive competitions they serve to lower the prices of the trade to a most unprecedented extent. I have as yet met with no occupation in which the existence of a class of master-men has worked well for the interest of the trade, and I have found many which they have reduced to a state of abject wretchedness. It is a peculiar circumstance in connection with the master-men that they abound only in those callings which require a small amount of capital, and which, consequently, render it easy for the operative immediately on the least disagreement between him and his employer to pass from the condition of an operative into that of a trading workman. When among the fancy cabinet-makers I had a statement from a gentleman, in Aldersgate-street, who supplied the materials to these men, that a fancy cabinet-maker, the manufacturer of writing-desks, tea-caddies, ladies’ work-boxes, &c., could begin, and did begin, business on less than 3_s._ 6_d._ A youth had just then bought materials of him for 2_s._ 6_d._ to “begin on a small desk,” stepping at once out of the trammels of apprenticeship into the character of a master-man. Now this facility to commence business on a man’s own account is far greater in the chimney-sweepers’ trade than even in the desk-makers’, for the one needs no previous training, while the other does.

Thus when other trades, skilled or unskilled, are depressed, when casual labour is with a mass of workpeople more general than constant labour, they naturally inquire if they “cannot do better at something else,” and often resort to such trades as the chimney-sweepers’. It is open to all, skilled and unskilled alike. Distress, a desire of change, a vagabond spirit, a hope to “better themselves,” all tend to swell the ranks of the single-handed master chimney-sweepers; even though these men, from the casualties of the trade in the way of “seasons,” &c., are often exposed to great privations.

There are in all 147 single-handed masters, who are thus distributed throughout the metropolis:--

Southwark (17), Chelsea (11), Marylebone, Shoreditch, and Whitechapel (each 9), Hackney, Stepney, and Lambeth (each 8), St. George’s-in-the-East (7), Rotherhithe (6), St. Giles’ and East London (each 5), Bethnal-green, Bermondsey, Camberwell, and Clapham (each 4), St. Pancras, Islington, Walworth, and Greenwich (each 3), St. James’s (Westminster), Holborn, Clerkenwell, St. Luke’s, Poplar, Westminster, West London, City, Wandsworth, and Woolwich (each 1); in all, 147.

Thus we perceive, that the single-handed masters abound in the suburbs and poorer districts; and it is generally in those parts where the lower rate of wages is paid that these men are found to prevail. Their existence appears to be at once the cause and the consequence of the depreciation of the labour.

Of the single-handed masters there is a sub-class known by the name of “knullers” or “queriers.”

The knullers were formerly, it is probable, known as knellers. The Saxon word Cnyllan is to knell (to knull properly), or sound a bell, and the name “knuller” accordingly implies the sounder of a bell, which has been done, there can be no doubt, by the London chimney-sweepers as well as the dustmen, to announce their presence, and as still done in some country parts. One informant has known this to be the practice at the town of Hungerford in Berkshire. The bell was in size between that of the muffin-man and the dustman.

The knuller is also styled a “querier,” a name derived from his making inquiries at the doors of the houses as to whether his services are required or are likely to be soon required, calling even where they know that a regular resident chimney-sweeper is employed. The men go along calling “sweep,” more especially in the suburbs, and if asked “Are you Mr. So-and-So’s man?” answer in the affirmative, and may then be called in to sweep the chimneys, or instructed to come in the morning. Thus they receive the full charge of an established master, who, for the sake of his character and the continuance of his custom, must do his work properly; while if such work be done by the knuller, it will be hurriedly and therefore badly done, as all work is, in a general way, when done under false pretences.

Some of the sharpest of these men, I am told, have been reared up as sweepers; but it appears, although it is a matter difficult to ascertain with precision, the majority have been brought up to some generally unskilled calling, as scavagers, costermongers, tinkers, bricklayers’ labourers, soldiers, &c. The knullers or queriers are almost all to be found among the lower class chimney-sweepers. There are, from the best information to be obtained, from 150 to 200 of them. Not only do they scheme for employment in the way I have described, but some of them call at the houses of both rich and poor, boldly stating that they had been sent by Mr. ---- to sweep the flues. I was informed by several of the master sweepers, that many of the fires which happen in the metropolis are owing to persons employing these “knullers,” “for,” say the high masters, “they scamp the work, and leave a quantity of soot lodged in the chimney, which, in the event of a large fire being kept in the range or grate, ignites.” This opinion as to the fires in the chimneys being caused by the scamped work of the knullers must be taken with some allowance. Tradesmen, whose established business is thus, as they account it, usurped, are naturally angry with the usurpers.

There is another evil, so say the regular masters, resulting from the employment of the knullers--the losses accruing to persons employing them, as “they take anything they can lay their hands upon.”

This, also, is a charge easy to make, but not easy to refute, or even to sift. One master chimney-sweeper told me that when chimneys are swept in rich men’s houses there is almost always some servant in attendance to watch the sweepers. If the rich, I am told, be watchful under these circumstances, the poor are more vigilant.

The distribution of the knullers or queriers is as follows:--Southwark (17), Chelsea and St. Giles’ (11 each), Shoreditch and Whitechapel (10 each), Lambeth (9), Marylebone, Stepney and Walworth (8 each), St. George’s in the East and Woolwich (7 each), Islington and Hackney (6 each), East London, Rotherhithe, and Greenwich (5 each), Paddington, St. Pancras, East London, Rotherhithe and Greenwich (5 each), Paddington, St. Pancras, Bethnal Green, Bermondsey, and Clapham (4 each), Westminster, St. Martin’s, Holborn, St. Luke’s, West London, Poplar, and Camberwell (3 each); St. James’s (Westminster), Clerkenwell, City of London, and Wandsworth (2 each), Kensington (1); in all, 183.

Like the single-handed men the knullers abound in the suburbs. I endeavoured to find a knuller who had been a skilled labourer, and was referred to one who, I was told, had been a working plumber, and a “good hand at spouts.” I found him a doggedly ignorant man; he saw no good, he said, in books or newspapers, and “wouldn’t say nothing to me, as I’d told him it would be printed. He wasn’t a going to make a holy-show [so I understood him] of his-self.”

Another knuller (to whom I was referred by a master who occasionally employed him as a journeyman) gave me the following account. He was “doing just middling” when I saw him, he said, but his look was that of a man who had known privations, and the soot actually seemed to bring out his wrinkles more fully, although he told me he was only between 40 and 50 years old; he believed he was not 46.

“I was hard brought up, sir,” he said; “ay, them as’ll read your book--I mean them readers as is well to do--cannot fancy how hard. Mother was a widow; father was nobody knew where; and, poor woman, she was sometimes distracted that a daughter she had before her marriage, went all wrong. She was a washerwoman, and slaved herself to death. She died in the house [workhouse] in Birmingham. I can read and write a little. I was sent to a charity school, and when I was big enough I was put ’prentice to a gunsmith at Birmingham. I’m master of the business generally, but my perticler part is a gun lock-filer. No, sir, I can’t say as ever I liked it; nothing but file file all day. I used to wish I was like the free bits o’ boys that used to beg steel filings of me for their fifth of November fireworks. I never could bear confinement. It’s made me look older than I ought, I know, but what can a poor man do? No, I never cared much about drinking. I worked in an iron-foundry when I was out of my time. I had a relation that was foreman there. Perhaps it might be that, among all the dust and heat and smoke and stuff, that made me a sweep at last, for I was then almost or quite as black as a sweep.

“Then I come up to London; ay, that must be more nor 20 years back. O, I came up to better myself, but I couldn’t get work either at the gun-makers--and I fancy the London masters don’t like Birmingham hands--nor at the iron-foundries, and the iron-foundries is nothing in London to what they is in Staffordshire and Warwickshire; nothing at all, they may say what they like. Well, sir, I soon got very bad off. My togs was hardly to call togs. One night--and it was a coldish night, too--I slept in the park, and was all stiff and shivery next morning. As I was wandering about near the park, I walked up a street near the Abbey--King-street, I think it is--and there was a picture outside a public-house, and a writing of men wanted for the East India Company’s Service. I went there again in the evening, and there was soldiers smoking and drinking up and down, and I ’listed at once. I was to have my full bounty when I got to the depôt--Southampton I think they called it. Somehow I began to rue what I’d done. Well, I hardly can tell you why. O, no; I don’t say I was badly used; not at all. But I had heard of snakes and things in the parts I was going to, and I gently hooked it. I was a navvy on different rails after that, but I never was strong enough for that there work, and at last I couldn’t get any more work to do. I came back to London; well, sir, I can’t say, as you ask, why I came to London ’stead of Birmingham. I seemed to go natural like. I could get nothing to do, and Lord! what I suffered! I once fell down in the Cut from hunger, and I was lifted into Watchorn’s, and he said to his men, ‘Give the poor fellow a little drop of brandy, and after that a biscuit; the best things he can have.’ He saved my life, sir. The people at the bar--they see’d it was no humbug--gathered 7-1/2_d._ for me. A penny a-piece from some of Maudslay’s men, and a halfpenny from a gent that hadn’t no other change, and a poor woman as I was going away slipt a couple of trotters into my hand.

“I slept at a lodging-house, then, in Baldwin’s-gardens when I had money, and one day in Gray’s inn-lane I picked up an old gent that fell in the middle of the street, and might have been run over. After he’d felt in all his pockets, and found he was all right, he gave me 5_s._ I knew a sweep, for I sometimes slept in the same house, in King-street, Drury-lane; and he was sick, and was going to the big house. And he told me all about his machines, that’s six or seven years back, and said if I’d pay 2_s._ 6_d._ down, and 2_s._ 6_d._ a week, if I couldn’t pay more, I might have his machine for 20_s._ I took it at 17_s._ 6_d._, and paid him every farthing. That just kept him out of the house, but he died soon after.

“Yes, I’ve been a sweep ever since. I’ve had to shift as well as I could. I don’t know that I’m what you call a Nuller, or a Querier. Well, if I’m asked if I’m anybody’s man, I don’t like to say ‘no,’ and I don’t like to say ‘yes;’ so I says nothing if I can help it. Yes, I call at houses to ask if anything’s wanted. I’ve got a job that way sometimes. If they took me for anybody’s man, I can’t help that. I lodge with another sweep which is better off nor I am, and pay him 2_s._ 9_d._ a week for a little stair-head place with a bed in it. I think I clear 7_s._ a week, one week with another, but that’s the outside. I never go to church or chapel. I’ve never got into the way of it. Besides, I wouldn’t be let in, I s’pose, in my togs. I’ve only myself. I can’t say I much like what I’m doing, but what can a poor man do?”

OF THE FIRES OF LONDON.

Connected with the subject of chimney sweeping is one which attracts far less of the attention of the legislature and the public than its importance would seem to demand: I mean the fires in the metropolis, with their long train of calamities, such as the loss of life and of property. These calamities, too, especially as regards the loss of property, are almost all endured by the poor, the destruction of whose furniture is often the destruction of their whole property, as insurances are rarely effected by them; while the wealthier classes, in the case of fires, are not exposed to the evils of houselessness, and may be actually gainers by the conflagration, through the sum for which the property was insured.

“The daily occurrence of fires in the metropolis,” say the Board of Health, “their extent, the number of persons who perish by them, the enormous loss of property they occasion, the prevalence of incendiarism, the apparent apathy with which such calamities are regarded, and the rapidity with which they are forgotten, will hereafter be referred to as evidence of a very low social condition and defective administrative organization. These fires, it was shown nearly a century ago, when the subject of insurance was debated in Parliament, were frequently caused from not having chimneys swept in proper time.” I am informed that a chimney may be on fire for many days, unknown to the inmates of the house, and finally break out in the body of the building by its getting into contact with some beam or wood-work. The recent burning of Limehouse Church was occasioned by the soot collected in the flue taking fire, and becoming red hot, when it ignited the wood-work in the roof. The flue, or pipe, was of iron.

From a return made by Mr. Braidwood of the houses and properties destroyed in the metropolis in the three years ending in 1849 inclusive, it appears that the total number was 1111: of contents destroyed (which, being generally insured separately, should be kept distinct) there were 1013. The subjoined table gives the particulars as to the proportion insured and uninsured:--

-------------+---------+----------+------ -- | Insured.|Uninsured.|Total. -------------+---------+----------+------ Houses | 914 | 197 | 1111 Contents | 609 | 404 | 1013 -------------+---------+----------+------ | 1523 | 601 | 2124 -------------+---------+----------+------

“The proportion per cent. of the uninsured to the insured, would be--

--------+----+---------+----------+------ -- | | Insured.|Uninsured.|Total. --------+----+---------+----------+------ | |Per Cent.| Per Cent.| Houses |1111| 82·3 | 17·7 | 100 Contents|1013| 60·1 | 39·9 | 100 --------+----+---------+----------+------ |2124| 71·7 | 28·3 | 100 --------+----+---------+----------+------

The following table gives the total number of fires in the metropolis during a series of years:

ABSTRACT OF CAUSES OF FIRE IN THE METROPOLIS, FROM 1833 to 1849, INCLUSIVE.

COMPILED BY W. BADDELEY.

|1833|1834|1835|1836|1837|1838|1839 ----------------------|----|----|----|----|----|----|---- Accidents of various | | | | | | | kinds, for the most | | | | | | | part unavoidable | 83| 40| 14| 13| 17| 36| 25 Apparel ignited | | | | | | | on the person | .. | .. | .. | 7| 7| 5| 3 Candles, various | | | | | | | accidents with | 56| 146| 110| 157| 125| 132| 128 Carelessness, palpable| | | | | | | instances of | 28| .. | 19| 18| 7| 17| 14 Children playing | | | | | | | with fire or candles| .. | .. | 5| 6| 18| 5| 12 Drunkenness | .. | 2| 3| .. | 2| 4| 6 Fire-heat, application| | | | | | | of, to various | | | | | | | hazardous | | | | | | | manufacturing | | | | | | | processes | 31| 24| 39| 34| 22| 40| 26 Fire-sparks | .. | .. | .. | 7| 10| 12| 9 Fire-works | .. | .. | 3| .. | 5| 3| 5 Fires kindled on | | | | | | | hearths and other | | | | | | | improper places | 7| .. | 9| 5| 5| 15| 8 Flues, foul, | | | | | | | defective, &c. | 71| 65| 69| 72| 53| 58| 58 Fumigation, incautious| .. | 3| 7| 5| 2| 1| 5 Furnaces, kilns, | | | | | | | &c., defective or | | | | | | | over-heated | .. | 11| 2| 9| 12| 15| 20 Gas | 20| 25| 39| 38| 31| 42| 72 Gunpowder | 3| 3| .. | 1| 3| 1| 2 Hearths, defective, | | | | | | | &c. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. Hot cinders put | | | | | | | away | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. Lamps | .. | .. | .. | 2| 3| 9| 4 Lime, slaking of | .. | 3| 4| 3| .. | 4| 2 Linen, drying, | | | | | | | airing, &c. | .. | .. | 22| 31| 48| 32| 26 Lucifer-matches | .. | .. | .. | .. | 8| 9| 17 Ovens | 6| .. | .. | 6| 3| 11| 4 Reading, working, | | | | | | | or smoking | | | | | | | in bed | .. | 3| .. | .. | .. | 1| 2 Shavings, loose, | | | | | | | ignited | .. | 6| 9| 13| 8| 17| 8 Spontaneous combustion| 7| 2| 5| 4| 4| 5| 13 Stoves, defective, | | | | | | | over-heated, &c. | 18| 20| 11| 28| 36| 31| 24 Tobacco smoking | .. | 6| 4| 1| 3| 4| 11 Suspicious | .. | .. | .. | .. | 7| 8| 6 Wilful | 3| 9| 6| 8| 5| 6| 7 Unknown | 125| 114| 91| 96| 57| 45| 67

|1840|1841|1842|1843|1844|1845|1846 ----------------------|----|----|----|----|----|----|---- Accidents of various | | | | | | | kinds, for the most | | | | | | | part unavoidable | 26| 26| 44| 19| 11| 17| 29 Apparel ignited | | | | | | | on the person | 12| 5| 9| 5| 4| 3| 3 Candles, various | | | | | | | accidents with | 169| 184| 189| 166| 205| 165| 229 Carelessness, palpable| | | | | | | instances of | 24| 25| 19| 27| 15| 14| 15 Children playing | | | | | | | with fire or candles| 21| 18| 16| 20| 23| 19| 25 Drunkenness | 5| 5| 11| 6| 9| 7| 9 Fire-heat, application| | | | | | | of, to various | | | | | | | hazardous | | | | | | | manufacturing | | | | | | | processes | 29| 16| 36| 14| 21| 22| 25 Fire-sparks | 17| 13| 23| 17| 27| 24| 32 Fire-works | 1| 4| 7| 5| 3| 10| 9 Fires kindled on | | | | | | | hearths and other | | | | | | | improper places | 7| 8| 9| 9| 8| 12| 7 Flues, foul, | | | | | | | defective, &c. | 89| 83| 90| 105| 84| 78| 86 Fumigation, incautious| 3| 2| 2| 1| 1| 3| 4 Furnaces, kilns, | | | | | | | &c., defective or | | | | | | | over-heated | 15| 12| 23| 19| 17| 29| 28 Gas | 48| 48| 52| 40| 33| 54| 53 Gunpowder | .. | .. | 3| 1| .. | 1| .. Hearths, defective, | | | | | | | &c. | .. | .. | 3| 5| 2| .. | 4 Hot cinders put | | | | | | | away | .. | .. | 3| 3| 7| 10| 8 Lamps | 3| 5| 2| 2| 6| 11| 7 Lime, slaking of | 2| 5| 4| 2| 3| 9| 7 Linen, drying, | | | | | | | airing, &c. | 25| 27| 41| 33| 45| 30| 39 Lucifer-matches | 18| 16| 17| 14| 19| 12| 14 Ovens | 13| 13| 13| 10| 10| 8| 8 Reading, working, | | | | | | | or smoking | | | | | | | in bed | .. | 5| 2| 3| .. | .. | 3 Shavings, loose, | | | | | | | ignited | 27| 35| 22| 31| 18| 25| 35 Spontaneous combustion| 11| 22| 20| 23| 34| 19| 18 Stoves, defective, | | | | | | | over-heated, &c. | 48| 54| 32| 58| 44| 51| 43 Tobacco smoking | 9| 22| 17| 14| 21| 19| 29 Suspicious | 11| 7| 9| 16| 7| 9| 7 Wilful | 9| 13| 19| 21| 11| 14| 19 Unknown | 39| 23| 32| 60| 74| 32| 39

|1847|1848|1849|Total.|Average ----------------------|----|----|----|------|------- Accidents of various | | | | | kinds, for the most | | | | | part unavoidable | 20| 19| 13| 452 | 27 Apparel ignited | | | | | on the person | 3| 1| 2| 69 | 4 Candles, various | | | | | accidents with | 237| 237| 241| 2876 |169 Carelessness, palpable| | | | | instances of | 20| 23| 24| 309 | 18 Children playing | | | | | with fire or candles| 16| 19| 15| 238 | 14 Drunkenness | 5| 3| 7| 84 | 5 Fire-heat, application| | | | | of, to various | | | | | hazardous | | | | | manufacturing | | | | | processes | 16| 22| 23| 440 | 26 Fire-sparks | 65| 63| 40| 359 | 21 Fire-works | 6| 1| 8| 70 | 4 Fires kindled on | | | | | hearths and other | | | | | improper places | 3| 4| 4| 120 | 7 Flues, foul, | | | | | defective, &c. | 78| 56| 78| 1273 | 75 Fumigation, incautious| 4| 4| 2| 49 | 3 Furnaces, kilns, | | | | | &c., defective or | | | | | over-heated | 14| 16| 21| 263 | 16 Gas | 63| 65| 57| 780 | 46 Gunpowder | 2| .. | 2| 22 | 1-1/5 Hearths, defective, | | | | | &c. | 3| 4| 3| 24 | 1-1/2 Hot cinders put | | | | | away | 9| 5| 11| 56 | 3 Lamps | 2| 3| 17| 76 | 5 Lime, slaking of | 5| 5| 3| 61 | 4 Linen, drying, | | | | | airing, &c. | 34| 36| 40| 509 | 30 Lucifer-matches | 9| 23| 12| 188 | 11 Ovens | 8| 2| 2| 117 | 7 Reading, working, | | | | | or smoking | | | | | in bed | 1| 1| 1| 22 | 1-1/3 Shavings, loose, | | | | | ignited | 37| 27| 21| 339 | 20 Spontaneous combustion| 15| 7| 19| 228 | 13 Stoves, defective, | | | | | over-heated, &c. | 37| 48| 43| 626 | 37 Tobacco smoking | 18| 37| 24| 239 | 14 Suspicious | 17| 11| 10| 125 | 7 Wilful | 17| 25| 19| 211 | 12 Unknown | 72| 38| 76| 1080 | 63

Here, then, we perceive that there are, upon an average of 17 years, no less than 770 “fires” per annum, that is to say, 29 houses in every 10,000 are discovered to be on fire every year; and about one-fourth of these are uninsured. In the year 1833 the total number of fires was only 458, or 20 in every 10,000 inhabited houses, whilst, in 1849, the number had gradually progressed to 838, or 28 in every 10,000 houses.

We have here, however, to deal more particularly with the causes of these fires, of which the following table gives the result of many years’ valuable experience:--

TABULAR EPITOME OF METROPOLITAN FIRES, FROM 1833 to 1849.

BY W. BADDELEY, 29, ALFRED STREET, ISLINGTON.

--------------------+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+---- |1833|1834|1835|1836|1837|1838|1839|1840|1841|1842|1843 --------------------+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+---- Slightly damaged | 292| 338| 315| 397| 357| 383| 402| 451| 438| 521| 489 Seriously damaged | 135| 116| 125| 134| 122| 152| 165| 204| 34| 224| 231 Totally destroyed | 31| 28| 31| 33| 22| 33| 17| 26| 24| 24| 29 Total No. of Fires | 458| 482| 471| 564| 501| 568| 584| 681| 696| 769| 749 False Alarms | 59| 63| 66| 66| 89| 80| 70| 84| 67| 61| 79 Alarms from | | | | | | | | | | | Chimneys on Fire | 75| 106| 106| 126| 127| 107| 101| 98| 92| 82| 83 Total No. of Calls | 592| 651| 643| 756| 717| 755| 755| 863| 855| 912| 911 Insuran. on Building| | | | | | | | | | | and Contents | .. | .. | .. | 169| 173| 161| 169| 237| 343| 321| 276 Insurances on | | | | | | | | | | | Building only | .. | .. | .. | 73| 47| 59| 58| 92| 149| 116| 124 Insurances on | | | | | | | | | | | Contents only | .. | .. | .. | 104| 76| 128| 115| 104| 52| 112| 107 Uninsured | .. | .. | .. | 218| 205| 220| 242| 248| 152| 220| 242 --------------------+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----

--------------------+----+----+----+----+----+----+------+------- |1844|1845|1846|1847|1848|1849|Total.|Average --------------------+----+----+----+----+----+----+------+------- Slightly damaged | 502| 431| 576| 536| 509| 582| 6,574| 470 Seriously damaged | 237| 244| 238| 273| 269| 228| 2,955| 211 Totally destroyed | 23| 32| 20| 27| 27| 28| 365| 26 Total No. of Fires | 762| 707| 834| 836| 805| 838| 9,894| 770 False Alarms | 70| 81| 119| 88| 120| 76| 1,150| 82 Alarms from | | | | | | | | Chimneys on Fire | 94| 87| 69| 66| 86| 89| 1,307| 94 Total No. of Calls | 926| 875|1022| 990|1011|1003|12,351| 882 Insuran. on Building| | | | | | | | and Contents | 313| 313| 302| 263| 310| 368| 3,718| 266 Insurances on | | | | | | | | Building only | 138| 107| 137| 125| 120| 163| 1,508| 108 Insurances on | | | | | | | | Contents only | 94| 73| 125| 157| 134| 72| 1,453| 104 Uninsured | 217| 214| 270| 291| 241| 235| 3,215| 230 --------------------+----+----+----+-----+---+----+------+-------

Thus we perceive that, out of an average of 665 fires per annum, the information being derived from 17 years’ experience, the following were the number of fires produced by different causes:--

Average No. of Fires per Annum. Candles, various accidents with 169 Flues, foul, defective, &c. 75 Unknown 63 Gas 46 Stoves over-heated 37 Linen, drying, airing, &c. 30 Accidents of various kinds, for the most part unavoidable 27 Fire heat, application of, to various hazardous manufacturing processes 26 Fire sparks 21 Shavings, loose, ignited 20 Carelessness, palpable instances of 18 Furnaces, kilns, &c., defective or over-heated 16 Children playing with fire or candles 14 Tobacco smoking 14 Spontaneous combustion 13 Wilful 12 Lucifer-matches 11 Ovens 7 Fires, kindled on hearths and other improper places 7 Suspicious 7 Lamps 5 Drunkenness 5 Lime, slaking of 4 Apparel, ignited on the person 4 Fireworks 4 Hot cinders put away 3 Incautious fumigation 3 Reading, working, or smoking in bed 1·33 Hearths defective 1·25 ------ 665

Here, then, we find that while the greatest proportion of fires are caused by accidents with candles, about one-ninth of the fires above mentioned arise from foul flues, or 75 out of 665, a circumstance which teaches us the usefulness of the class of labourers of whom we have been lately treating.

It would seem that a much larger proportion of the fires are wilfully produced than appear in the above table.

The Board of Health, in speaking of incendiarism in connection with insurance, report:--

“Inquiries connected with measures for the improvement of the population have developed the operation of insurances, in engendering crimes and calamities; negatively, by weakening natural responsibilities and motives to care and forethought; positively, by temptations held out to the commission of crime in the facility with which insurance money is usually obtainable.

“The steady increase in the number of fires in the metropolis, whilst our advance in the arts gives means for their diminution, is ascribable mainly to the operation of these two causes, and to the division and weakening of administrative authority. From information on which we can rely, we feel assured that the crime of incendiarism for the sake of insurance money exists to a far greater extent than the public are aware of.”

Mr. Braidwood has expressed his opinion that only one-half of the property in the metropolis is insured, not as to numbers of property, but as to value; but the proportion of insured and uninsured houses could not be ascertained.

Mr. Baddeley, the inspector to the Society for the Protection of Life from Fire, who had given attention to the subject for the last 30 years, gave the Board the following account of the increase of fires:--

------------------+-----------+----------+---------- | | |Proportion | Fires per | Of which | per Cent. | Annum of | were |of Insured |Houses and | Totally |Houses and |Properties.|Uninsured.|Properties | | | Burnt. ------------------+-----------+----------+---------- In the first seven| | | years there were | | | on an average | 623 | 215 | 65·15 | | | In the second | | | seven years | 790 | 244 | 69·3 ------------------+-----------+----------+----------

During this period there has been a great increase in the number of dwellings, but this has been chiefly in suburban places, where fires rarely occur.

“The frequency of fires,” it is further stated, “led Mr. Payne, the coroner of the City of London, to revive the exercise of the coroner’s function of inquiring into the causes of fires; most usefully. Out of 58 inquests held by him (in the City of London and the borough of Southwark, which comprise only one-eighteenth of the houses of the metropolis) since 1845, it appears that, 8 were proved to be wilful; 27 apparently accidental; and 23 from causes unknown, including suspicious causes. The proportion of ascertained wilful fires was, therefore, 23 per cent.; which gives strong confirmation to the indications presented by the statistical returns as to the excess of insured property burnt above uninsured.”

The at once mean and reckless criminality of arson, by which a man exposes his neighbours to the risk of a dreadful death, which he himself takes measures to avoid, has long, and on many occasions, gone unpunished in London. The insurance companies, when a demand is made upon them for a loss through fire, institute an inquiry, carried on quietly by their own people. The claimant is informed, if sufficient reasons for such a step appear, that from suspicious circumstances, which had come to the knowledge of the company, the demand would not be complied with, and that the company would resist any action for the recovery of the money. The criminal becomes alarmed, he is afraid of committing himself, and so the matter drops, and the insurance companies, not being required to pay the indemnification, are satisfied to save their money, and let the incendiarism remain unnoticed or unpunished. Mr. Payne, the coroner, has on some occasions strongly commented on this practice as one which showed the want of a public prosecutor.

* * * * *

A few words as regards the means of extinction and help at fires.

Upwards of two years ago the Commissioners of Police instructed their officers to note the time which elapsed between the earliest alarm of fire and the arrival of the first engine. Seventeen fires were noted, and the average duration of time before the fire-brigade or any parochial or local fire-engine, reached the spot, was 36 minutes. Two or three of these fires were in the suburbs; so that in this crowded city, so densely packed with houses and people, fifteen fires raged unchecked for more than half-an-hour.

There are in the metropolis, not including the more distant suburbs, 150 public fire stations, with engines provided under the management of the parochial authorities. The fire-brigade has but seventeen stations on land, and two on the river, which are, indeed, floating engines, one being usually moored near Southwark-bridge, the other having no stated place, being changed in its locality, as may be considered best. In the course of three years, the term of the official inquiry, the engines of the fire-brigade reached on the average the place where a fire was raging thirty-five times as the earliest means of assistance, when the parochial engines did the same only in the proportion of two to the thirty-five.

Mr. Braidwood, the director of the fire-brigade, stated, when questioned on the subject with a view to a report to be laid before Parliament, that “the average time of an engine turning out with horses was from three to seven minutes.” The engines are driven at the rate of ten miles an hour along the streets, which, in the old coaching days, was considered the “best royal mail pace.” Indeed, there have been frequent complaints of the rapidity with which the fire-engines are driven, and if the drivers were not skilful and alert, it would really amount to recklessness.

“Information of the breaking out of a fire,” it is stated in the report, “will be conveyed to the station of the brigade at the rate of about five miles an hour: thus in the case of the occurrence of a fire within a mile of the station, the intelligence may be conveyed to the station in about twelve minutes; the horses will be put to, and the engine got out into the street in about five minutes on the average; it traverses the mile in about six minutes; and the water has to be got into the engine, which will occupy about five minutes, making, under the most favourable circumstances for such a distance, 28 minutes, or for a half-mile distance, an average of not less than 20 minutes.”

The average distance of the occurring fires from a brigade station were, however, during a period of three years, terminating in 1850, upwards of a mile. One was five miles, several four miles, more were two miles, and a mile and a half, while the most destructive fires were at an average distance of a mile and three quarters. Thus it was impossible for a fire-brigade to give assistance as soon as assistance was needed, and, under other circumstances, might have been rendered. And all this damage may and does very often result from what seems so trifling a neglect as the non-sweeping of a chimney.

Mr. W. Baddeley, an engineer, and a high authority on this subject, has stated that he had attended fires for 30 years in London, and that, of 838 fires which took place in 1849, two-thirds might have been easily extinguished had there been an immediate application of water. In some places, he said, delay originated from the turn-cocks being at wide intervals, and some of the companies objecting to let any but their own servants have the command of the main-cocks.

The Board of Health have recommended the formation of a series of street-water plugs within short distances of each other, the water to be constantly on at high pressure night and day, and the whole to be under the charge of a trained body of men such as compose the present fire-brigade, provided at appointed stations with every necessary appliance in the way of hose, pipes, ladders, &c. “The hose should be within the reach,” it is urged in the report, “fixed, and applied on an average of not more than five minutes from the time of the alarm being given; that is to say, in less than one-fourth of the time within which fire-engines are brought to bear under existing arrangements, and with a still greater proportionate diminution of risks and serious accidents.”

Nor is this mode of extinguishing fires a mere experiment. It is successfully practised in some of the American cities, Philadelphia among the number, and in some of our own manufacturing towns. Mr. Emmott, the engineer and manager of the Oldham Water-works, has described the practice in that town on the occurrence of fires:--

“In five cases out of six, the hose is pushed into a water-plug, and the water thrown upon a building on fire, for the average pressure of water in this town is 146 feet; by this means our fires are generally extinguished even before the heavy engine arrives at the spot. The hose is much preferred to the engine, on account of the speed with which it is applied, and the readiness with which it is used, for one man can manage a hose, and throw as much water on the building on fire as an engine worked by many men. On this account we very rarely indeed use the engines, as they possess no advantage whatever over the hose.”

When the city of Hamburgh was rebuilt two or three years back, after its destruction by fire, it was rebuilt chiefly under the direction of Mr. W. Lindley, the engineer, and, as far as Mr. Lindley could accomplish, on sanitary principles, such as the abolition of cesspools. The arrangements for the surface cleansing of the streets by means of the hose and jet and the water-plugs, are made available for the extinction of fires, and with the following results, as communicated by Mr. Lindley:--

“Have there been fires in buildings in Hamburgh in the portion of the town rebuilt?--Yes, repeatedly. They have all, however, been put out at once. If they had had to wait the usual time for engines and water, say 20 minutes or half an hour, these might all have led to extensive conflagrations.

“What has been the effect on insurance?--The effect of the rapid extinction of fires has brought to light to the citizens of Hamburgh, the fact that the greater proportion of their fires are the work of incendiaries, for the sake of the insurance money. A person is absent; smoke is seen to exude; the alarm of fire is given, and the door is forced open, the jet applied, and the fire extinguished immediately. Case after case has occurred, where, upon the fire being extinguished, the arrangements for the spread of the fire are found and made manifest. Several of this class of incendiaries for the insurance money are now in prison. The saving of money alone, by the prevention of fires, would be worth the whole expense of the like arrangement in London, where it is well known that similar practices prevail extensively.”

The following statement was given by Mr. Quick, an engineer, on this subject:--

“After the destruction of the terminus of the South Western Railway by fire, I recommended them to have a 9-inch main, with 3-inch outlets leading to six stand-pipes, with joining screws for hose-pipes to be attached, and that they should carry a 3-inch pipe of the same description up into each floor, so that a hose might be attached in any room where the fire commenced.

“In how many minutes may the hose be attached?--There is only the time of attaching the hose, which need be nothing like a minute. I have indeed recommended that a short length of hose with a short nozzle or branch should be kept attached to the cock, so that the cock has only to be turned, which is done in an instant.

“It appears that fire-engines require 26 men to work each engine of two 7 inch barrels, to produce a jet of about 50 feet high. The arrangement carried out, at your recommendation, with six jets, is equivalent to keeping six such engines, and the power of 156 men, in readiness to act at all times, night and day, at about a minute’s notice, for the extinction of fires?--It will give a power more than equal to that number of men; for the jets given off from a 20-inch main will be much more regular and powerful, and will deliver more water than could be delivered by any engine. The jets at that place would be 70 feet high.”

The system of roof-cisterns, which was at one time popular as a means of extinction, has been found, it appears, on account of their leakage and diffusion of damp, to be but sorry contrivances, and have very generally been discontinued. Mr. Holme, a builder in Liverpool, gives the following, even under the circumstances, amusing account of a fire where such a cistern was provided:--

“The owner of a cotton kiln, which had been repeatedly burnt, took it into his head to erect a large tank in the roof. His idea was, that when a fire occurred, they should have water at hand; and when the fire ascended, it would burn the wooden tank, and the whole of the contents being discharged on the fire like a cataract, it would at once extinguish it. Well, the kiln again took fire; the smoke was so suffocating, that nobody could get at the internal pipe, and the whole building was again destroyed. But what became of the tank? It could not burn, because it was filled with water; consequently, it boiled most admirably. No hole was singed in its side or bottom; it looked very picturesque, but it was utterly useless.”

The necessity of almost immediate help is shown in the following statement by Mr. Braidwood, when consulted on the subject of fire-escapes, which under the present system are not considered sufficiently effective:--

“Taking London to be six miles long and three miles broad, to have anything like an efficient system of fire-escapes, it would be necessary to have one with a man to attend it within a quarter of a mile of each house, as assistance, to be of any use, must generally be rendered within five minutes after the alarm is given. To do this the stations must be within a quarter of a mile of each other (as the escapes must be taken round the angles of the streets): 253 stations would thus be required and as many men.

“At present scaling ladders are kept at all the engine stations, and canvas sheets also at some of them; several lives have been saved by them; but the distance of the stations from each other renders them applicable only in a limited number of instances.”

The engines of the fire-brigade throw up about 90 gallons a minute. Their number is about 100. The cost of a fire-engine is from 60_l._ to 100_l._, and the hose, buckets, and general apparatus, cost nearly the same amount.

OF THE SEWERMEN AND NIGHTMEN OF LONDON.

We now come to the consideration of the last of the several classes of labourers engaged in the removal of the species of refuse from the metropolis. I have before said that the public refuse of a town consists of two kinds:--

I. The street-refuse. II. The house-refuse.

Of each of these kinds there are two species:--

A. The dry. B. The wet.

The dry street-refuse consists, as we have seen, of the refuse earth, bricks, mortar, oyster-shells, potsherds, and pansherds.

And the dry house-refuse of the soot and ashes of our fires.

The wet street-refuse consists, on the other hand, of the mud, slop, and surface water of our public thoroughfares.

And the wet house-refuse, of what is familiarly known as the “slops” of our residences, and the liquid refuse of our factories and slaughterhouses.

We have already collected the facts in connection with the three first of these subjects. We have ascertained the total amount of each of these species of refuse which have to be annually removed from the capital. We have set forth the aggregate number of labourers who are engaged in the removal of it, as well as the gross sum that is paid for so doing, showing the individual earnings of each of the workmen, and arriving, as near as possible, at the profits of their employers, as well as the condition of the employed. This has been done, it is believed, for the first time in this country; and if the subject has led us into longer discussions than usual, the importance of the matter, considered in a sanitary point of view, is such that a moment’s reflection will convince us of the value of the inquiry--especially in connection with a work which aspires to embrace the whole of the offices performed by the labourers of the capital of the British Empire.

It now but remains for us to complete this novel and vast inquiry by settling the condition and earnings of the men engaged in the removal of the last species of public refuse. I shall consider, first, the aggregate quantity of wet house-refuse that has to be annually removed; secondly, the means adopted for the removal of it; thirdly, the cost of so doing; and lastly, the number of men engaged in this kind of work, as well as the wages paid to them, and the physical, intellectual, and moral condition in which they exist, or, more properly speaking, are allowed to remain.

OF THE WET HOUSE-REFUSE OF LONDON.

All house-refuse of a liquid or semi-liquid character is wet refuse. It may be called semi-liquid when it has become mingled with any solid substance, though not so fully as to have lost its property of fluidity, its natural power to flow along a suitable inclination.

Wet house-refuse consists of the “slops” of a household. It consists, indeed, of all waste water, whether from the supply of the water companies, or from the rain-fall collected on the roofs or yards of the houses; of the “suds” of the washerwomen, and the water used in every department of scouring, cleansing, or cooking. It consists, moreover, of the refuse proceeds from the several factories, dye-houses, &c.; of the blood and other refuse (not devoted to Prussian blue manufacture or sugar refining) from the butchers’ slaughter-houses and the knackers’ (horse slaughterers’) yards; as well as the refuse fluid from all chemical processes, quantities of chemically impregnated water, for example, being pumped, as soon as exhausted, from the tan-pits of Bermondsey into the drains and sewers. From the great hat-manufactories (chiefly also in Bermondsey and other parts of the Borough) there is a constant flow of water mixed with dyes and other substances, to add to the wet refuse of London.

It is evident, then, that all the water consumed or wasted in the metropolis must form a portion of the total sum of the wet refuse.

There is, however, the exception of what is used for the watering of gardens, which is absorbed at once by the soil and its vegetable products; we must also exclude such portion of water as is applied to the laying of the road and street dust on dry summer days, and which forms a part of the street mud or “mac” of the scavager’s cart, rather than of the sewerage; and we must further deduct the water derived from the street plugs for the supply of the fire-engines, which is consumed or absorbed in the extinction of the flames; as well as the water required for the victualling of ships on the eve of a voyage, when such supply is not derived immediately from the Thames.

The quantity of water required for the diet, or beverage, or general use of the population; the quantity consumed by the maltsters, distillers, brewers, ginger-beer and soda-water makers, and manufacturing chemists; for the making of tea, coffee, or cocoa; and for drinking at meals (which is often derived from pumps, and not from the supplies of the water companies);--the water which is thus consumed, in a prepared or in a simple state, passes into the wet refuse of the metropolis in another form.

Now, according to reports submitted to Parliament when an improved system of water-supply was under consideration, the daily supply of water to the metropolis is as follows:--

Gallons. From the Water Companies 44,383,329 „ „ Artesian Wells 8,000,000 „ „ land spring pumps 3,000,000 ---------- 55,383,329

The yearly rain-fall throughout the area of the metropolis is 172,053,477 tons, or 33,589,972,120 gallons, 2 feet deep of rain falling on every square inch of London in the course of the year. The yearly total of the water pumped or falling into the metropolis is as follows:--

Gallons. Yearly mechanical supply 19,215,000,000 „ natural ditto 38,539,972,122 -------------- 57,754,972,122

The reader will find the details of this subject at p. 203 of the present volume. I recapitulate the results here to save the trouble of reference, and briefly to present the question under one head.

Of course the rain which ultimately forms a portion of the gross wet refuse of London, can be only such as falls on that part of the metropolitan area which is occupied by buildings or streets. What falls upon fields, gardens, and all open ground, is absorbed by the soil. But a large proportion of the rain falling upon the streets, is either absorbed by the dry dust, or retained in the form of mud; hence that only which falls on the house-tops and yards can be said to contribute largely to the gross quantity of wet refuse poured into the sewers. The streets of London appear to occupy one-tenth of the entire metropolitan area, and the houses (estimating 300,000 as occupying upon an average 100 square yards each[62]) another tithe of the surface. The remaining 92 square miles out of the 115 now included in the Registrar-General’s limits (which extend, it should be remembered, to Wandsworth, Lewisham, Bow, and Hampstead), may be said to be made up of suburban gardens, fields, parks, &c., where the rain-water would soak into the earth. We have, then, only two-tenths of the gross rain-fall, or 7,700,000,000 gallons, that could possibly appear in the sewers, and calculating one-third of this to be absorbed by the mud and dust of the streets, we come to the conclusion that the total quantity of rain-water entering the sewers is, in round numbers, 5,000,000,000 gallons per annum.

Reckoning, therefore, 5,000,000,000 gallons to be derived from the annual rain-fall, it appears that the yearly supply of water, from all sources, to be accounted for among the wet house-refuse is, in round numbers, 24,000,000,000 gallons.

The refuse water from the factories need not be calculated separately, as its supply is included in the water mechanically supplied, and the loss from evaporation in boiling, &c., would be perfectly insignificant if deducted from the vast annual supply, but 350,000,000 gallons have been allowed for this and other losses.

There is still another source of the supply of wet house-refuse unconnected either with the rain-fall or the mechanical supply of water--I mean such proportion of the blood or other refuse from the butchers’ and knackers’ premises as is washed into the sewers.

Official returns show that the yearly quantity of animals sold in Smithfield is--

Horned cattle 224,000 Sheep 1,550,000 Calves 27,300 Pigs 40,000 --------- 1,841,300

The blood flowing from a slaughtered bullock, whether killed according to the Christian or the Jewish fashion, amounts, on an average, to 20 quarts; from a sheep, to 6 or 7 quarts; from a pig, 5 quarts; and the same quantity from a calf. The blood from a horse slaughtered in a knackers’ yard is about the same as that from a bullock. This blood used to bring far higher prices to the butcher than can be now realized.

In the evidence taken by a Select Committee of the House of Commons in 1849, concerning Smithfield-market, Mr. Wyld, of the Fox and Knot-yard, Smithfield, stated that he slaughtered about 180 cattle weekly. “We have a sort of well made in the slaughterhouse,” he said, “which receives the blood. I receive about 1l. a week for it; it goes twice a day to Mr. Ton’s, at Bow Common. We used to receive a good deal more for it.” Even the market for blood at Mr. Ton’s, is, I am informed, now done away with. He was a manufacturer of artificial manure, a preparation of night-soil, blood, &c., baked in what may be called “cakes,” and exported chiefly to our sugar-growing colonies, for manure. His manure yard has been suppressed.

I am assured, on the authority of experienced butchers, that at the present time fully three-fourths of the blood from the animals slaughtered in London becomes a component part of the wet refuse I treat of, being washed into the sewers. The more wholesale slaughterers, now that blood is of little value (9 gallons in Whitechapel-market, the blood of two beasts--less by a gallon--can be bought for 3_d._), send this animal refuse down the drains of their premises in far greater quantities than was formerly their custom.

Now, reckoning only three-fourths of the blood from the cattle slaughtered in the metropolis, to find its way into the sewers, we have, according to the numbers above given, the following yearly supply:--

Gallons. From horned cattle 840,000 „ sheep 1,743,000 „ pigs 37,500 „ calves 25,590 --------- 2,646,090

This is merely the blood from the animals sold in Smithfield-market, the lambs not being included in the return; while a great many pigs and calves are slaughtered by the London tradesmen, without their having been shown in Smithfield.

The ordure from a slaughtered bullock is, on an average, from 1/2 to 3/4 cwt. Many beasts yield one cwt.; and cows “killed full of grass,” as much as two cwt. Of this excrementitious matter, I am informed, about a fourth part is washed into the sewers. In sheep, calves, and pigs, however, there is very little ordure when slaughtered, only 3 or 4 lbs. in each as an average.

Of the number of horses killed there is no official or published account. One man familiar with the subject calculated it at 100 weekly. All the blood from the knackers’ yards is, I am told, washed into the sewers; consequently its yearly amount will be 26,000 gallons.

But even this is not the whole of the wet house-refuse of London.

There are, in addition, the excreta of the inhabitants of the houses. These are said to average 1/4 lb. daily per head, including men, women, and children.

It is estimated by Bousingault, and confirmed by Liebig, that each individual produces 1/4 lb. of solid excrement and 1-1/4 lb. of liquid excrement per day, making 1-1/2 lb. each, or 150 lbs. per 100 individuals, of semi-liquid refuse from the water-closet. “But,” says the Surveyor of the Metropolitan Commission of Sewers, “there is other refuse resulting from culinary operations, to be conveyed through the drains, and the whole may be about 250 lbs. for 100 persons.”

The more fluid part of this refuse, however, is included in the quantity of water before given, so that there remains only the more solid excrementitious matter to add to the previous total. This, then, is 1/4 lb. daily and individually; or from the metropolitan population of nearly 2,500,000 a daily supply of 600,000 lbs., rather more than 267 tons; and a yearly aggregate for the whole metropolis of 219,000,000 lbs., or very nearly about 100,000 tons.

From the foregoing account, then, the following is shown to be

The Gross Quantity of the Wet House-Refuse of the Metropolis.

Gallons. Lbs. “Slops” and unabsorbed rain-water 24,000,000,000 = 240,000,000,000 Blood of beasts 2,646,000 = 26,460,000 „ horses 26,000 = 260,000 Excreta 219,000,000 Dung of slaughtered cattle 17,400,000 -------------- --------------- Total 24,002,657,000 = 240,263,120,000

Hence we may conclude that the more fluid portion of the wet house-refuse of London amounts to 24,000,000,000 gallons per annum; and that altogether it weighs, in round numbers, about 240,000,000,000 lbs., or 100,000,000 tons.

As these refuse products are not so much matters of trade or sale as other commodities, of course less attention has been given to them, in the commercial attributes of weight and admeasurement. I will endeavour, however, to present an uniform table of the whole great mass of metropolitan wet house-refuse in cubic inches.

The imperial standard gallon is of the capacity of 277·274 cubic inches; and estimating the solid excrement spoken of as the ordinary weight of earth, or of the soil of the land, at 18 cubic feet the ton, we have the following result, calculating in round numbers:--

Wet House-Refuse of the Metropolis.

Liquid 24,000,000,000 gal. = 6,600,000,000,000 cub. in. Solid 100,000 tons = 3,110,400,000 „

Thus, by this process of admeasurement, we find the

WET HOUSE-REFUSE } = 6,603,110,400,000 cubic in., or OF LONDON } 3,820,000,000 cubic feet.

Figures best show the extent of this refuse, “inexpressible” to common appreciation “by numbers that have name.”

OF THE MEANS OF REMOVING THE WET HOUSE-REFUSE.

Whether this mass of filth be, zymotically, the cause of cholera, or whether it be (as cannot be questioned) a means of agricultural fertility, and therefore of national wealth, it must be removed. I need not dilate, in explaining a necessity which is obvious to every man with uncorrupted physical senses, and with the common moral sense of decency.

“Dr. Paley,” it is said, in a recent Report to the Metropolitan Commission of Sewers, “gave to Burckhardt and other travellers a set of instructions as to points of observation of the manners and conditions of the populations amongst whom they travelled. One of the leading instructions was to observe how they disposed of their excreta, for what they did with that showed him what men were; he also inquired what structure they had to answer the purpose of a privy, and what were their habits in respect to it. This information Dr. Paley desired, not for popular use, but for himself, for he was accustomed to say, that the facts connected with that topic gave him more information as to the real condition and civilisation of a population than most persons would be aware of. It would inform him of their real habits of cleanliness, of real decency, self-respect, and connected moral habits of high social importance. It would inform him of the real state of police, and of local administration, and much of the general government.

“The human ordure which defiles the churches, the bases of public edifices and works of art in Rome and Naples, and the Italian cities, gives more sure indications of the real moral and social position of the Italian population than any impressions derived from the edifices and works of art themselves.

“The subject, in relation to which the Jewish lawgiver gave most particular directions, is one on which the serious attention and labour of public administrators may be claimed.”

The next question, is--How is the wet house-refuse to be removed?

There are two ways:--

1. One is, to transport it to a river, or some powerfully current stream by a series of ducts.

2. The other is, to dig a hole in the neighbourhood of the house, there collect the wet refuse of the household, and when the hole or pit becomes full, remove the contents to some other part.

In London the most obvious means of getting rid of a nuisance is to convey it into the Thames. Nor has this been done in London only. In Paris the Seine is the receptacle of the sewage, but, comparatively, to a much smaller extent than in London. The fæcal deposits accumulated in the houses of the French capital are drained into “fixed” and “moveable” cesspools. The contents of both these descriptions of cesspools (of which I shall give an account when I treat of the cesspool system) are removed periodically, under the direction of the government, to large receptacles, called voiries, at Montfaucon, and the Forest of Bondy, where such refuse is made into portable manure. The evils of this system are not a few; but the river is spared the greater pollution of the Thames. Neither is the Seine swayed by the tide as is the Thames, for in London the very sewers are affected by the tidal influence, and are not to be entered until some time before or after high-water. I need not do more, for my present inquiry, than allude to the Liffy, the Clyde, the Humber, and others of the rivers of the United Kingdom, being used for purposes of sewerage, as channels to carry off that of which the law prohibits the retention.

Of the folly, not to say wickedness, of this principle, there can be no doubt. The vegetation which gives, demands food. The grass will wither without its fitting nutriment of manure, as the sheep would perish without the pasturage of the grass. Nature, in temperate and moist climates, is, so to speak, her own manurer, her own restorer. The sheep, which are as wild and active as goats, manure the Cumberland fells in which they feed. In the more cultivated sheep-walks (or, indeed, in the general pasturage) of the northern and some of the midland counties, women, with a wooden implement, may be continually seen in the later autumn, or earlier and milder winter, distributing the “stercoraceous treasure,” as Cowper calls it, which the animals, to use the North Yorkshire word, have “dropped,” as well as any extraneous manure which may have been spread for the purpose. As population and the demand for bread increase, the need of extraneous manures also increases; and Nature in her beneficence has provided that the greater the consumption of food, the greater shall be the promoters of its reproduction by what is loathsome to man, but demanded by vegetation. Liebig, as I shall afterwards show more fully, contends that many an arid and desolate region in the East, brown and burnt with barrenness, became a desolation because men understood not the restoration which all nature demands for the land. He declares that the now desolate regions of the East had been made desolate, because “the inhabitants did not understand the art of restoring exhausted soil.” It would be hopeless now to form, or attempt to form, the “hanging gardens,” or to display the rich florescence “round about Babylon,” to be seen when Alexander the Great died in that city. The Tigris and Euphrates, before and after their junction, Liebig maintains, have carried, and, to a circumscribed degree, still carry, into the sea “a sufficient amount of manure for the reproduction of food for millions of human beings.” It is said that, “could that matter only be arrested in its progress, and converted into bread and wine, fruit and beef, mutton and wool, linen and cotton, then cities might flourish once more in the desert, where men are now digging for the relics of primitive civilization, and discovering the symbols of luxury and ease beneath the barren sand and the sunburnt clay.”

This is one great evil; but in our metropolis there is a greater, a far greater, beyond all in degree, even if the same abuse exist elsewhere. What society with one consent pronounces filth--the evacuations of the human body--is not only washed into the Thames, and the land so deprived of a vast amount of nutriment, but the tide washes these evacuations back again, with other abominations. The water we use is derived almost entirely from the Thames, and therefore the water in which we boil our vegetables and our meat, the water for our coffee and tea, the water brewed for our consumption, comes to us, and is imbibed by us, impregnated over and over again with our own animal offal. We import guano, and drink a solution of our own fæces: a manure which might be made far more valuable than the foreign guano.

Such are a few of the evils of making a common sewer of the neighbouring river.

The other mode of removal is, to convey the wet house-refuse, by drains, to a hole near the house where it is produced, and empty it periodically when full.

The house-drainage throughout London has two characteristics. By one system all excrementitious and slop refuse generally is carried usually along brick drains from the water-closets, privies, sinks, lavatories, &c., of the houses into the cesspools, where it accumulates until its removal (by manual labour) becomes necessary, which is not, as an average, more than once in two years. By the other, and the newer system, all the house-refuse is drained into the public sewer, the cesspool system being thereby abolished. All the houses built or rebuilt since 1848 are constructed on the last-mentioned principle of drainage.

The first of these modes is cesspoolage.

The second is sewerage.

I shall first deal with the sewerage of the metropolis.

OF THE QUANTITY OF METROPOLITAN SEWAGE.

Having estimated the gross quantity of wet house-refuse produced throughout London in the course of the year, and explained the two modes of removing it from the immediate vicinity of the house, I will now proceed to set forth the quantity of wet house-refuse matter which it has been ascertained is removed with the contents of London sewers.

An experiment was made on the average discharge of sewage from the outlets of Church-lane and Smith-street, Chelsea, Ranelagh, King’s Scholar’s-pond, Grosvenor-wharf, Horseferry-road, Wood-street, King-street, Northumberland-street, Durham-yard, Norfolk-street, and Essex-street (the four last-mentioned places running from the Strand). The experiments were made “under ordinary and extraordinary circumstances,” in the months of May, June, and July, 1844, but the system is still the same, so that the result in the investigation as to the sewage of the year 1844 may be taken as a near criterion of the present, as regards the localities specified and the general quantity.

The surface drained into the outlets before enumerated covers, in its total area, about 7000 acres, of which nearly 3500 may be classed as urban. The observations, moreover, were made generally during fine weather.

I cannot do better by way of showing the reader the minuteness with which these observations were made, than by quoting the two following results, being those of the fullest and smallest discharges of twelve issues into the river. I must premise that these experiments were made on seven occasions, from May 4 to July 12 inclusive, and made at different times, but generally about eight hours after high water. In the Northumberland-street sewer, from which was the largest issue, the width of the sewer at the outlet was five feet. In the King-street sewer (the smallest discharge, as given in the second table) the width of the sewer was four feet. The width, however, does not affect the question, as there was a greater issue from the Norfolk-street sewer of two feet, than from the King-street sewer of four feet in width.

+------------------------------------------------ | NORTHUMBERLAND STREET. +---------+-----------------+-------------------- | | Velocity per | Quantity discharged | Date. | second. | per second. +---------+-----------------+-------------------- | | Feet. | Cubic Feet. | +-----------------+-------------------- | May 4 | 4·600 | 10·511000 | „ 9 | 4·000 | 6·800000 | June 5 | 4·000 | 6·800000 | „ 10 | 4·600 | 10·350000 | „ 11 | 4·920 | 12·300000 | „ 16 | 3·600 | 5·940000 | July 12 | 2·760 | 3·394800 +---------+-----------------+-------------------- | | | 56·095800 +---------+-----------------+-------------------- | Being Mean Discharge | | per second | 8·013685 | Ditto per 24 hours | 692382· +---------------------------+-------------------- | KING STREET. +---------+-----------------+-------------------- | May 4 | ·147 | ·021756 | „ 9 | ·333 | ·079920 | June 5 | ·170 | ·020400 | „ 10 | ·311 | ·064688 | „ 11 | ·300 | ·048000 | „ 16 | ·101 | ·004040 | July 12 | ·103 | ·008240 +---------+-----------------+-------------------- | | | ·247044 +---------+-----------------+-------------------- |Mean Discharge per second | ·035292 | Ditto per 24 hours| 3049· +---------------------------+--------------------

Here we find that the mean discharge per second was, from the Northumberland-street sewer, 692,382· cubic feet per 24 hours, and from the King-street sewer, 3049 cubic feet per 24 hours.

The discharge from the principal outlets in the Westminster district “being the mean of seven observations taken during the summer,” was 1,798,094 cubic feet in 24 hours; the number of acres drained was 7006. _The mean discharge per acre, in the course of 24 hours, was found to be about 256 cubic feet, comprising the urban and suburban parts._

The sewage, from the discharge of which this calculation was derived--and the dryness of the weather must not be lost sight of--may be fairly assumed as derived (in a dry season) almost entirely from artificial sources or house drainage, as there was no rain-fall, or but little. “Supposing, therefore,” the Report states, “the entire surface to be urban, we have 540 cubic feet as the mean daily discharge per acre. If, however, the average be taken of the first eight outlets, viz., from Essex-street to Grosvenor-wharf inclusive, which drain a surface wholly urban, the result is 1260 cubic feet per acre in the 24 hours. This excess may be attributed to the number of manufactories, and the densely-populated nature of the locality drained; but, as indicative of the general amount of sewage due to ordinary urban districts, the former ought perhaps to be considered the fairer average.”

It is then assumed--I may say officially--that the average discharge of the urban and suburban sewage from the several districts included within an area of 58 square miles, is equal to 256 cubic feet per acre.

Sq. Miles. The extent of the jurisdiction included within this area is, on the north side of the Thames 43 And on the Surrey and Kent side 15

Cubic Feet. The ordinary daily amount of sewage discharged into the river on the north side is, therefore 7,045,120 And on the south side 2,457,600 --------- Making a total of 9,502,720

Or a quantity equivalent to a surface of more than 36 acres in extent, and 6 feet in depth.

This mass of sewage, it must be borne in mind, is but the daily product of the sewage of the more populous part of the districts included within the jurisdiction of the two commissions of sewers.

The foregoing observations, calculations, and deductions have supplied the basis of many scientific and commercial speculations, but it must be remembered that they were taken between seven and eight years ago. The observations were made, moreover, during fine summer weather, generally, while the greatest discharge is during rainy weather. There has been, also, an increase of sewers in the metropolis, because an increase of streets and inhabited houses. The approximate proportion of the increase of sewers (and there is no precise account of it) is pretty nearly that of the streets, lineally. Another matter has too, of late years, added to the amount of sewage--the abolition of cesspoolage in a considerable degree, owing to the late Building and Sanitary Acts, so that fæcal and culinary matters, which were drained into the cesspool (to be removed by the nightmen), are now drained into the sewer. Altogether, I am assured, on good authority, the daily discharge of the sewers extending over 58 square miles of the metropolis may be now put at 10,000,000 cubic feet, instead of rather more than nine and a half millions. And this gives, as

Cubic Feet. The annual amount of discharge from the sewers 3,650,000,000 The total amount of wet house-refuse, according to the calculation before given, is 3,820,000,000 ------------- Hence there remains 170,000,000

Sq. Miles. Now it will be seen that the total area from which this amount of sewage is said to be drained is 58 But the area of London, according to the Registrar-General’s limits, is 115

So that the 3,650,000,000 cubic feet of sewage annually removed from 58 square miles of the metropolis refer to only one-half of the entire area of the true metropolis; but it refers, at the same time, to that part of London which is the most crowded with houses, and since, in the suburbs, the buildings average about 2 to the acre, and, in the densest parts of London, about 30, it is but fair to assume that the refuse would be, at least, in the same proportion, and this is very nearly the fact; for if we suppose the 58 miles of the suburban districts to yield twenty times less sewage than the 58 miles of the urban districts, we shall have 182,500,000 cubic feet to add to the 3,650,000,000 cubic feet before given, or 3,832,500,000 for the sewage of the entire metropolis.

It does not appear that the sewage has ever been weighed so as to give any definite result, but calculating from the weight of water (a gallon, or 10 lbs. of water, comprising 277·274 cubic inches, and 1 ton of liquid comprising 36 cubic feet) the total, from the returns of the investigation in 1844, would be

Tons. Quantity of sewage daily emptied into the Thames 278,000 Ditto Annually 101,390,000

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