Part 124
Taken as a class, crossing-sweepers are among the most honest of the London poor. They all tell you that, without a good character and “the respect of the neighbourhood,” there is not a living to be got out of the broom. Indeed, those whom I found best-to-do in the world were those who had been longest at their posts.
Among them are many who have been servants until sickness or accident deprived them of their situations, and nearly all of them have had their minds so subdued by affliction, that they have been tamed so as to be incapable of mischief.
The _earnings_, or rather “_takings_,” of crossing-sweepers are difficult to estimate--generally speaking--that is, to strike the average for the entire class. An erroneous idea prevails that crossing-sweeping is a lucrative employment. All whom I have spoken with agree in saying, that some thirty years back it was a good living; but they bewail piteously the spirit of the present generation. I have met with some who, in former days, took their 3_l._ weekly; and there are but few I have spoken to who would not, at one period, have considered fifteen shillings a bad week’s work. But now “the takings” are very much reduced. The man who was known to this class as having been the most prosperous of all--for from one nobleman alone he received an allowance of seven shillings and sixpence weekly--assured me that twelve shillings a-week was the average of his present gains, taking the year round; whilst the majority of the sweepers agree that a shilling is a good day’s earnings.
A shilling a-day is the very limit of the average incomes of the London sweepers, and this is rather an over than an under calculation; for, although a few of the more fortunate, who are to be found in the squares or main thoroughfares or opposite the public buildings, may earn their twelve or fifteen shillings a-week, yet there are hundreds who are daily to be found in the by-streets of the metropolis who assert that eightpence a-day is their average taking; and, indeed, in proof of their poverty, they refer you to the workhouse authorities, who allow them certain quartern-loaves weekly. The old stories of delicate suppers and stockings full of money have in the present day no foundation of truth.
The black crossing-sweeper, who bequeathed 500_l._ to Miss Waithman, would almost seem to be the last of the class whose earnings were above his positive necessities.
Lastly, concerning the _numbers_ belonging to this large class, we may add that it is difficult to reckon up the number of crossing-sweepers in London. There are few squares without a couple of these pathway scavengers; and in the more respectable squares, such as Cavendish or Portman, every corner has been seized upon. Again, in the principal thoroughfares, nearly every street has its crossing and attendant.
I.--OF THE ADULT CROSSING-SWEEPERS.
_A. The Able-Bodied Sweepers._
The elder portion of the London crossing-sweepers admit, as we have before said, of being arranged, for the sake of perspicuity, into several classes. I shall begin with the _Able-bodied Males_; then proceed to the _Females_ of the same class; and afterwards deal with the _Able-bodied Irish_ (male and female), who take to the London causeways for a living. This done, I shall then, in due order, take up the _Afflicted_ or _Crippled_ class; and finally treat of the _Juveniles_ belonging to the same calling.
1. THE ABLE-BODIED MALE CROSSING-SWEEPERS.
THE “ARISTOCRATIC” CROSSING-SWEEPER.
“Billy” is the popular name of the man who for many years has swept the long crossing that cuts off one corner of Cavendish-square, making a “short cut” from Old Cavendish-street to the Duke of Portland’s mansion.
Billy is a merry, good-tempered kind of man, with a face as red as a love-apple, and cheeks streaked with little veins.
His hair is white, and his eyes are as black and bright as a terrier’s. He can hardly speak a sentence without finishing it off with a moist chuckle.
His clothes have that peculiar look which arises from being often wet through, but still they are decent, and far above what his class usually wear. The hat is limp in the brim, from being continually touched.
The day when I saw Billy was a wet one, and he had taken refuge from a shower under the Duke of Portland’s stone gateway. His tweed coat, torn and darned, was black about the shoulders with the rain-drops, and his boots grey with mud, but, he told me, “It was no good trying to keep clean shoes such a day as that, ’cause the blacking come off in the puddles.”
Billy is “well up” in the _Court Guide_. He continually stopped in his statement to tell whom my Lord B. married, or where my Lady C. had gone to spend the summer, or what was the title of the Marquis So-and-So’s eldest boy.
He was very grateful, moreover, to all who had assisted him, and _would_ stop looking up at the ceiling, and God-blessing them all with a species of religious fervour.
His regret that the good old times had passed, when he made “hats full of money,” was unmistakably sincere; and when he had occasion to allude to them, he always delivered his opinion upon the late war, calling it “a-cut-and run affair,” and saying that it was “nothing at all put alongside with the old war, when the halfpence and silver coin were twice as big and twenty times more plentiful” than during the late campaign.
Without the least hesitation he furnished me with the following
## particulars of his life and calling:--
“I was born in London, in Cavendish-square, and (he added, laughing) I ought to have a title, for I first came into the world at No. 3, which was Lord Bessborough’s then. My mother went there to do her work, for she chaired there, and she was took sudden and couldn’t go no further. She couldn’t have chosen a better place, could she? You see I was born in Cavendish-square, and I’ve _worked_ in Cavendish-square--sweeping a crossing--for now near upon fifty year.
“Until I was nineteen--I’m sixty-nine now--I used to sell water-creases, but they felled off and then I dropped it. Both mother and myself sold water-creases after my Lord Bessborough died; for whilst he lived she wouldn’t leave him not for nothing.
“We used to do uncommon well at one time; there wasn’t nobody about then as there is now. I’ve sold flowers, too; they was very good then; they was mostly show carnations and moss roses, and such-like, but no common flowers--it wouldn’t have done for me to sell common things at the houses I used to go to.
“The reason why I took to a crossing was, I had an old father and I didn’t want him to go to the workus. I didn’t wish too to do anything bad myself, and I never would--no, sir, for I’ve got as good a charackter as the first nobleman in the land, and that’s a fine thing, ain’t it? So as water-creases had fell off till they wasn’t a living to me, I had to do summat else to help me to live.
“I saw the crossing-sweepers in Westminster making a deal of money, so I thought to myself _I’ll_ do that, and I fixed upon Cavendish-square, because, I said to myself, I’m known there; it’s where I was born, and there I set to work.
“The very first day I was at work I took ten shillings. I never asked nobody; I only bowed my head and put my hand to my hat, and they knowed what it meant.
“By jingo, when I took that there I thought to myself, What a fool I’ve been to stop at water-creases!
“For the first ten year I did uncommon well. Give me the old-fashioned way; they were good times then; I like the old-fashioned way. Give me the old penny pieces, and then the eighteen-penny pieces, and the three-shilling pieces, and the seven-shilling pieces--give me them, I says. The day the old halfpence and silver was cried down, that is, the old coin was called in to change the currency, my hat wouldn’t hold the old silver and halfpence I was give that afternoon. I had _such_ a lot, upon my word, they broke my pocket. I didn’t know the money was altered, but a fishmonger says to me, ‘Have you got any old silver?’ I said ‘Yes, I’ve got a hat full;’ and then says he, ‘Take ’em down to Couttseses and change ’em.’ I went, and I was nearly squeeged to death.
“That was the first time I was like to be killed, but I was nigh killed again when Queen Caroline passed through Cavendish-square after her trial. They took the horses out of her carriage and pulled her along. She kept a chucking money out of the carriage, and I went and scrambled for it, and I got five-and-twenty shillin, but my hand was a nigh smashed through it; and, says a friend of mine, before I went, ‘Billy,’ says he, ‘don’t you go;’ and I was sorry after I did. She was a good woman, _she_ was. The Yallers, that is, the king’s party, was agin her, and pulled up the paving-stones when her funeral passed; but the Blues was for her.
“I can remember, too, the mob at the time of the Lord Castlereagh riots. They went to Portman-square and broke all the winders in the house. They pulled up all the rails to purtect theirselves with. I went to the Bishop of Durham’s, and hid myself in the coal-cellar then. My mother chaired there, too. The Bishop of Durham and Lord Harcourt opened their gates and hurrah’d the mob, so they had nothing of their’s touched; but whether they did it through fear or not I can’t say. The mob was carrying a quartern loaf dipped in bullock’s blood, and when I saw it I thought it was a man’s head; so that frightened me, and I run off.
“I remember, too, when Lady Pembroke’s house was burnt to the ground. That’s about eighteen year ago. It was very lucky the family wasn’t in town. The housekeeper was a nigh killed, and they had to get her out over the stables; and when her ladyship heard she was all right, she said she didn’t care for the fire since the old dame was saved, for she had lived along with the family for many years. No, bless you, sir! I didn’t help at the fire; I’m too much of a coward to do that.
“All the time the Duke of Portland was alive he used to allow me 7_s._ 6_d._ a-week, which was 1_s._ a-day and 1_s._ 6_d._ for Sundays. He was a little short man, and a very good man he was too, for it warn’t only me as he gave money to, but to plenty others. He was the best man in England for that.
“Lord George Bentinck, too, was a good friend to me. He was a great racer, he was, and then he turned to be member of parliament, and then he made a good man they tell me; but he never comed over my crossing without giving me something. He was at the corner of Holly Street, he was, and he never put foot on my crossing without giving me a sovereign. Perhaps he wouldn’t cross more than once or twice a month, but when he comed my way _that_ was his money. Ah! he was a nice feller, he was. When he give it he always put it in my hand and never let nobody see it, and that’s the way I like to have _my_ fee give me.
“There’s Mrs. D----, too, as lived at No. 6; she was a good friend of mine, and always allowed me a suit of clothes a-year; but she’s dead, good lady, now.
“Dr. C---- and his lady, they, likewise, was very kind friends of mine, and gave me every year clothes, and new shoes, and blankets, aye, and a bed, too, if I had wanted it; but now they are all dead, down to the coachman. The doctor’s old butler, Mr. K----, he gave me twenty-five shillings the day of the funeral, and, says he, ‘Bill, I’m afraid this will be the last.’ Poor good friends they was all of them, and I did feel cut up when I see the hearse going off.
“There was another gentleman, Mr. W. T----, who lives in Harley-street; he never come by me without giving me half-a-crown. He was a real good gentleman; but I haven’t seen him for a long time now, and perhaps he’s dead too.
“All my friends is dropping off. I’m fifty-five, and they was men when I was a boy. All the good gentlemen’s gone, only the bad ones stop.
“Another friend of mine is Lord B----. He always drops me a shilling when he come by; and, says he, ‘You don’t know me, but I knows you, Billy.’ But I _do_ know him, for my mother worked for the family many a year, and, considering I was born in the house, I think to myself, ‘If I don’t know you, why I ought.’ He’s a handsome, stout young chap, and as nice a gentleman as any in the land.
“One of the best friends I had was Prince E----, as lived there in Chandos-street, the bottom house yonder. I had five sovereigns give me the day as he was married to his beautiful wife. Don’t you remember what a talk there was about her diamonds, sir? They say she was kivered in ’em. He used to put his hand in his pocket and give me two or three shillings every time he crossed. He was a gentleman as was uncommon fond of the gals, sir. He’d go and talk to all the maid-servants round about, if they was only good-looking. I used to go and ring the hairy bells for him, and tell the gals to go and meet him in Chapel-street. God bless him! I says, he was a pleasant gentleman, and a regular good ’un for a bit of fun, and always looking lively and smiling. I see he’s got his old coachman yet, though the Prince don’t live in England at present, but his son does, and he always gives me a half-crown when he comes by too.
“I gets a pretty fine lot of Christmas boxes, but nothing like what I had in the old times. Prince E---- always gives me half a crown, and I goes to the butler for it. Pretty near all my friends gives me a box, them as knows me, and they say, ‘Here’s a Christmas box, Billy.’
“Last Christmas-day I took 36_s._, and that was pretty fair; but, bless you, in the old times I’ve had my hat full of money. I tells you again I’ve have had as much as 5_l._ in old times, all in old silver and halfpence; that was in the old war, and not this runaway shabby affair.
“Every Sunday I have sixpence regular from Lord H----, whether he’s in town or not. I goes and fetches it. Mrs. D----, of Harley-street, she gives me a shilling every Sunday when she’s in town; and the parents as knows me give halfpence to their little girls to give me. Some of the little ladies says, ‘Here, that will do you good.’ No, it’s only pennies (for sixpences is out of fashion); and thank God for the coppers, though they are little.
“I generally, when the people’s out of town, take about 2_s._ or 2_s._ 6_d._ on the Sunday. Last Sunday I only took 1_s._ 3_d._, but then, you see, it come on to rain and I didn’t stop. When the town’s full three people alone gives me more than that. In the season I take 5_s._ safe on a Sunday, or perhaps 6_s._--for you see it’s all like a lottery.
“I should like you to mention Lady Mildmay in Grosvenor-square, sir. Whenever I goes to see her--but you know I don’t go often--I’m safe for 5_s._, and at Christmas I have my regular salary, a guinea. She’s a very old lady, and I’ve knowed her for many and many years. When I goes to my lady she always comes out to speak to me at the door, and says she, ‘Oh, ’tis Willy! and how do you do, Willy?’ and she always shakes hands with me and laughs away. Ah! she’s a good kind creetur’; there’s no pride in her whatsumever--and she never sacks her servants.
“My crossing has been a good living to me and mine. It’s kept the whole of us. Ah! in the old time I dare say I’ve made as much as 3_l._ a week reg’lar by it. Besides, I used to have lots of broken vittals, and I can tell you I know’d where to take ’em to. Ah! I’ve had as much food as I could carry away, and reg’lar good stuff--chicken, and some things I couldn’t guess the name of, they was so Frenchified. When the fam’lies is in town I gets a good lot of food given me, but you know when the nobility and gentlemen are away the servants is on board wages, and cuss them board wages, I says.
“I buried my father and mother as a son ought to. Mother was seventy-three and father was sixty-five,--good round ages, ain’t they, sir? I shall never live to be that. They are lying in St. John’s Wood cemetery along with many of my brothers and sisters, which I have buried as well. I’ve only two brothers living now; and, poor fellows, they’re not very well to do. It cost me a good bit of money. I pay 2_s._ 6_d._ a-year for keeping up the graves of each of my parents, and 1_s._ 2_d._ for my brothers.
“There was the Earl of Gainsborough as I should like you to mention as well, please sir. He lived in Chandos-street, and was a particular nice man and very religious. He always gave me a shilling and a tract. Well, you see, I _did_ often read the tract; they was all religious, and about where your souls was to go to--very good, you know, what there was, very good; and he used to buy ’em wholesale at a little shop, corner of High-street, Marrabun. He was a very good, kind gentleman, and gave away such a deal of money that he got reg’lar known, and the little beggar girls follered him at such a rate that he was at last forced to ride about in a cab to get away from ’em. He’s many a time said to me, when he’s stopped to give me my shilling, ‘Billy, is any of ’em a follering me?’ He was safe to give to every body as asked him, but you see it worried his soul out--and it was a kind soul, too--to be follered about by a mob.
“When all the fam’lies is in town I has 14_s._ a-week reg’lar as clock-work from my friends as lives round the square, and when they’re away I don’t get 6_d._ a-day, and sometimes I don’t get 1_d._ a-day, and that’s less. You see some of ’em, like my Lord B----, is out eight months in the year; and some of ’em, such as my Lord H----, is only three. Then Mrs. D----, she’s away three months, and she always gives 1_s._ a-week reg’lar when she’s up in London.
“I don’t take 4_s._ a-week on the crossing. Ah! I wish you’d give me 4_s._ for what I take. No, I make up by going of errands. I runs for the fam’lies, and the servants, and any of ’em. Sometimes they sends me to a banker’s with a cheque. Bless you! they’d trust me with anythink, if it was a hat full. I’ve had a lot of money trusted to me at times. At one time I had as much as 83_l._ to carry for the Duke of Portland.
“Aye, that was a go--_that_ was! You see the hall-porter had had it give to him to carry to the bank, and he gets me to do it for him; but the vallet heerd of it, so he wanted to have a bit of fun, and he wanted to put the hall-porter in a funk. I met the vallet in Holborn, and says he, ‘Bill, I want to have a lark,’ so he kept me back, and I did not get back till one o’clock. The hall-porter offered 5_l._ reward for me, and sends the police; but Mr. Freebrother, Lord George’s wallet, he says, ‘I’ll make it all right, Billy.’ They sent up to my poor old people, and says father, ‘Billy wouldn’t rob anybody of a nightcap, much more 80_l._’ I met the policeman in Holborn, and says he, ‘I want you, Billy,’ and says I, ‘All right, here I am.’ When I got home the hall-porter, says he, ‘Oh, I am a dead man; where’s the money?’ and says I, ‘It’s lost.’ ‘Oh! it’s the Duke’s, not mine,’ says he. Then I pulls it out; and says the porter, ‘It’s a lark of Freebrother’s.’ So he gave me 2_l._ to make it all right. That _was_ a game, and the hall-porter, says he, ‘I really thought you was gone, Billy;’ but, says I, ‘If everybody carried as good a face as I do, everybody would be as honest as any in Cavendish-square.’
“I had another lark at the Bishop of Durham’s. I was a cleaning the knives, and a swellmobsman, with a green-baize bag, come down the steps, and says he to me, ‘Is Mr. Lewis, the butler, in?’--he’d got the name off quite pat. ‘No,’ says I, ‘he’s up-stairs;’ then says he, ‘Can I step into the pantry?’ ‘Oh, yes,’ says I, and shows him in. Bless you! he was so well-dressed, I thought he was a master-shoemaker or something; but as all the plate was there, thinks I, I’ll just lock the door to make safe. So I fastens him in tight, and keeps him there till Mr. Lewis comes. No, he didn’t take none of the plate, for Mr. Lewis come down, and then, as he didn’t know nothink about him, we had in a policeman, when we finds his bag was stuffed with silver tea-pots and all sorts of things from my Lord Musgrave’s. Says Mr. Lewis, ‘You did quite right, Billy.’ It wasn’t a likely thing I was going to let anybody into a pantry crammed with silver.
“There was another chap who had prigged a lot of plate. He was an old man, and had a bag crammed with silver, and was a cutting away, with lots of people after him. So I puts my broom across his legs and tumbles him, and when he got up he cut away and left the bag. Ah! I’ve seen a good many games in my time--that I have. The butler of the house the plate had been stole from give me 2_l._ for doing him that turn.