The habits of the bone-grubbers and rag-gatherers, the “pure,” or
dogs’-dung collectors, and the cigar-end finders, are necessarily
similar. All lead a wandering, unsettled sort of life, being compelled
to be continually on foot, and to travel many miles every day in search
of the articles in which they deal. They seldom have any fixed place of
abode, and are mostly to be found at night in one or other of the low
lodging-houses throughout London. The majority are, moreover, persons
who have been brought up to other employments, but who from some
failing or mishap have been reduced to such a state of distress that
they were obliged to take to their present occupation, and have never
after been able to get away from it.
Of the whole class it is considered that there are from 800 to 1000
resident in London, one-half of whom, at the least, sleep in the
cheap lodging-houses. The Government returns estimate the number of
mendicants’ lodging-houses in London to be upwards of 200. Allowing
two bone-grubbers and pure-finders to frequent each of these
lodging-houses, there will be upwards of 400 availing themselves of
such nightly shelters. As many more, I am told, live in garrets and
ill-furnished rooms in the lowest neighbourhoods. There is no instance
on record of any of the class renting even the smallest house for
himself.
Moreover there are in London during the winter a number of persons
called “trampers,” who employ themselves at that season in
street-finding. These people are in the summer country labourers
of some sort, but as soon as the harvest and potato-getting and
hop-picking are over, and they can find nothing else to do in the
country, they come back to London to avail themselves of the shelter
of the night asylums or refuges for the destitute (usually called
“straw-yards” by the poor), for if they remained in the provinces at
that period of the year they would be forced to have recourse to the
unions, and as they can only stay one night in each place they would
be obliged to travel from ten to fifteen miles per day, to which in
the winter they have a strong objection. They come up to London in the
winter, not to look for any regular work or employment, but because
they know that they can have a nightly shelter, and bread night and
morning for nothing, during that season, and can during the day collect
bones, rags, &c. As soon as the “straw-yards” close, which is generally
about the beginning of April, the “trampers” again start off to the
country in small bands of two or three, and without any fixed residence
keep wandering about all the summer, sometimes begging their way
through the villages and sleeping in the casual wards of the unions,
and sometimes, when hard driven, working at hay-making or any other
light labour.
[Illustration: THE BONE-GRUBBER.
[_From a Daguerreotype by_ BEARD.]]
Those among the bone-grubbers who do not belong to the regular
“trampers” have been either navvies, or men who have not been able
to obtain employment at their own business, and have been driven to
it by necessity as a means of obtaining a little bread for the time
being, and without any intention of pursuing the calling regularly;
but, as I have said, when once in the business they cannot leave it,
for at least they make certain of getting a few halfpence by it, and
their present necessity does not allow them time to look after other
employment. There are many of the street-finders who are old men and
women, and many very young children who have no other means of living.
Since the famine in Ireland vast numbers of that unfortunate people,
particularly boys and girls, have been engaged in gathering bones and
rags in the streets.
The bone-picker and rag-gatherer may be known at once by the greasy
bag which he carries on his back. Usually he has a stick in his hand,
and this is armed with a spike or hook, for the purpose of more easily
turning over the heaps of ashes or dirt that are thrown out of the
houses, and discovering whether they contain anything that is saleable
at the rag-and-bottle or marine-store shop. The bone-grubber generally
seeks out the narrow back streets, where dust and refuse are cast, or
where any dust-bins are accessible. The articles for which he chiefly
searches are rags and bones--rags he prefers--but waste metal, such as
bits of lead, pewter, copper, brass, or old iron, he prizes above all.
Whatever he meets with that he knows to be in any way saleable he puts
into the bag at his back. He often finds large lumps of bread which
have been thrown out as waste by the servants, and occasionally the
housekeepers will give him some bones on which there is a little meat
remaining; these constitute the morning meal of most of the class. One
of my informants had a large rump of beef bone given to him a few days
previous to my seeing him, on which “there was not less than a pound of
meat.”
The bone-pickers and rag-gatherers are all early risers. They have
all their separate beats or districts, and it is most important to
them that they should reach their district before any one else of
the same class can go over the ground. Some of the beats lie as far
as Peckham, Clapham, Hammersmith, Hampstead, Bow, Stratford, and
indeed all parts within about five miles of London. In summer time
they rise at two in the morning, and sometimes earlier. It is not
quite light at this hour--but bones and rags can be discovered before
daybreak. The “grubbers” scour all quarters of London, but abound more
particularly in the suburbs. In the neighbourhood of Petticoat-lane
and Ragfair, however, they are the most numerous on account of the
greater quantity of rags which the Jews have to throw out. It usually
takes the bone-picker from seven to nine hours to go over his rounds,
during which time he travels from 20 to 30 miles with a quarter to a
half hundredweight on his back. In the summer he usually reaches home
about eleven of the day, and in the winter about one or two. On his
return home he proceeds to sort the contents of his bag. He separates
the rags from the bones, and these again from the old metal (if he
be lucky enough to have found any). He divides the rags into various
lots, according as they are white or coloured; and if he have picked up
any pieces of canvas or sacking, he makes these also into a separate
parcel. When he has finished the sorting he takes his several lots
to the rag-shop or the marine-store dealer, and realizes upon them
whatever they may be worth. For the white rags he gets from 2_d._ to
3_d._ per pound, according as they are clean or soiled. The white rags
are very difficult to be found; they are mostly very dirty, and are
therefore sold with the coloured ones at the rate of about 5 lbs. for
2_d._ The bones are usually sold with the coloured rags at one and
the same price. For fragments of canvas or sacking the grubber gets
about three-farthings a pound; and old brass, copper, and pewter about
4_d._ (the marine-store keepers say 5_d._), and old iron one farthing
per pound, or six pounds for 1_d._ The bone-grubber thinks he has
done an excellent day’s work if he can earn 8_d._; and some of them,
especially the very old and the very young, do not earn more than
from 2_d._ to 3_d._ a day. To make 10_d._ a day, at the present price
of rags and bones, a man must be remarkably active and strong,--“ay!
and lucky, too,” adds my informant. The average amount of earnings, I
am told, varies from about 6_d._ to 8_d._ per day, or from 3_s._ to
4_s._ a week; and the highest amount that a man, the most brisk and
persevering at the business, can by any possibility earn in one week is
about 5_s._, but this can only be accomplished by great good fortune
and industry--the usual weekly gains are about half that sum. In bad
weather the bone-grubber cannot do so well, because the rags are wet,
and then they cannot sell them. The majority pick up bones only in wet
weather; those who _do_ gather rags during or after rain are obliged to
wash and dry them before they can sell them. The state of the shoes of
the rag and bone-picker is a very important matter to him; for if he
be well shod he can get quickly over the ground; but he is frequently
lamed, and unable to make any progress from the blisters and gashes on
his feet, occasioned by the want of proper shoes.
Sometimes the bone-grubbers will pick up a stray sixpence or a shilling
that has been dropped in the street. “The handkerchief I have round
my neck,” said one whom I saw, “I picked up with 1_s._ in the corner.
The greatest prize I ever found was the brass cap of the nave of a
coach-wheel; and I _did_ once find a quarter of a pound of tobacco in
Sun-street, Bishopsgate. The best bit of luck of all that I ever had
was finding a cheque for 12_l._ 15_s._ lying in the gateway of the
mourning-coach yard in Titchborne-street, Haymarket. I was going to
light my pipe with it, indeed I picked it up for that purpose, and
then saw it was a cheque. It was on the London and County Bank, 21,
Lombard-street. I took it there, and got 10_s._ for finding it. I went
there in my rags, as I am now, and the cashier stared a bit at me. The
cheque was drawn by a Mr. Knibb, and payable to a Mr. Cox. I _did_
think I should have got the odd 15_s._ though.”
It has been stated that the average amount of the earnings of the
bone-pickers is 6_d._ per day, or 3_s._ per week, being 7_l._ 16_s._
per annum for each person. It has also been shown that the number of
persons engaged in the business may be estimated at about 800; hence
the earnings of the entire number will amount to the sum of 20_l._ per
day, or 120_l._ per week, which gives 6240_l._ as the annual earnings
of the bone-pickers and rag-gatherers of London. It may also be
computed that each of the grubbers gathers on an average 20 lbs. weight
of bone and rags; and reckoning the bones to constitute three-fourths
of the entire weight, we thus find that the gross quantity of these
articles gathered by the street-finders in the course of the year,
amounts to 3,744,000 lbs. of bones, and 1,240,000 lbs. of rags.
Between the London and St. Katherine’s Docks and Rosemary Lane, there
is a large district inter-laced with narrow lanes, courts, and alleys
ramifying into each other in the most intricate and disorderly manner,
insomuch that it would be no easy matter for a stranger to work his
way through the interminable confusion without the aid of a guide,
resident in and well conversant with the locality. The houses are of
the poorest description, and seem as if they tumbled into their places
at random. Foul channels, huge dust-heaps, and a variety of other
unsightly objects, occupy every open space, and dabbling among these
are crowds of ragged dirty children who grub and wallow, as if in their
native element. None reside in these places but the poorest and most
wretched of the population, and, as might almost be expected, this,
the cheapest and filthiest locality of London, is the head-quarters of
the bone-grubbers and other street-finders. I have ascertained on the
best authority, that from the centre of this place, within a circle
of a mile in diameter, there dwell not less than 200 persons of this
class. In this quarter I found a bone-grubber who gave me the following
account of himself:--
“I was born in Liverpool, and when about 14 years of age, my father
died. He used to work about the Docks, and I used to run on errands for
any person who wanted me. I managed to live by this after my father’s
death for three or four years. I had a brother older than myself, who
went to France to work on the railroads, and when I was about 18 he
sent for me, and got me to work with himself on the Paris and Rouen
Railway, under McKenzie and Brassy, who had the contract. I worked on
the railroads in France for four years, till the disturbance broke
out, and then we all got notice to leave the country. I lodged at that
time with a countryman, and had 12_l._, which I had saved out of my
earnings. This sum I gave to my countryman to keep for me till we got
to London, as I did not like to have it about me, for fear I’d lose it.
The French people paid our fare from Rouen to Havre by the railway,
and there put us on board a steamer to Southampton. There was about 50
of us altogether. When we got to Southampton, we all went before the
mayor; we told him about how we had been driven out of France, and he
gave us a shilling a piece; he sent some one with us, too, to get us
a lodging, and told us to come again the next day. In the morning the
mayor gave every one who was able to walk half-a-crown, and for those
who were not able he paid their fare to London on the railroad. I had
a sore leg at the time, and I came up by the train, and when I gave
up my ticket at the station, the gentleman gave me a shilling more. I
couldn’t find the man I had given my money to, because he had walked
up; and I went before the Lord Mayor to ask his advice; he gave me
2_s._ 6_d._ I looked for work everywhere, but could get nothing to do;
and when the 2_s._ 6_d._ was all spent, I heard that the man who had
my money was on the London and York Railway in the country; however, I
couldn’t get that far for want of money then; so I went again before
the Lord Mayor, and he gave me two more, but told me not to trouble him
any further. I told the Lord Mayor about the money, and then he sent an
officer with me, who put me into a carriage on the railway. When I got
down to where the man was at work, he wouldn’t give me a farthing; I
had given him the money without any witness bring present, and he said
I could do nothing, because it was done in another country. I staid
down there more than a week trying to get work on the railroad, but
could not. I had no money and was nearly starved, when two or three
took pity on me, and made up four or five shillings for me, to take
me back again to London. I tried all I could to get something to do,
till the money was nearly gone; and then I took to selling lucifers,
and the fly-papers that they use in the shops, and little things like
that; but I could do no good at this work, there was too many at it
before me, and they knew more about it than I did. At last, I got so
bad off I didn’t know what to do; but seeing a great many about here
gathering bones and rags, I thought I’d do so too--a poor fellow must
do something. I was advised to do so, and I have been at it ever since.
I forgot to tell you that my brother died in France. We had good wages
there, four francs a day, or 3_s._ 4_d._ English; I don’t make more
than 3_d._ or 4_d._ and sometimes 6_d._ a day at bone-picking. I don’t
go out before daylight to gather anything, because the police takes
my bag and throws all I’ve gathered about the street to see if I have
anything stolen in it. I never stole anything in all my life, indeed
I’d do anything before I’d steal. Many a night I’ve slept under an arch
of the railway when I hadn’t a penny to pay for my bed; but whenever
the police find me that way, they make me and the rest get up, and
drive us on, and tell us to keep moving. I don’t go out on wet days,
there’s no use in it, as the things won’t be bought. I can’t wash and
dry them, because I’m in a lodging-house. There’s a great deal more
than a 100 bone-pickers about here, men, women, and children. The Jews
in this lane and up in Petticoat-lane give a good deal of victuals
away on the Saturday. They sometimes call one of us in from the street
to light the fire for them, or take off the kettle, as they must not
do anything themselves on the Sabbath; and then they put some food on
the footpath, and throw rags and bones into the street for us, because
they must not hand anything to us. There are some about here who get a
couple of shillings’ worth of goods, and go on board the ships in the
Docks, and exchange them for bones and bits of old canvas among the
sailors; I’d buy and do so too if I only had the money, but can’t get
it. The summer is the worst time for us, the winter is much better,
for there is more meat used in winter, and then there are more bones.”
(Others say differently.) “I intend to go to the country this season,
and try to get something to do at the hay-making and harvest. I make
about 2_s._ 6_d._ a week, and the way I manage is this: sometimes I
get a piece of bread about 12 o’clock, and I make my breakfast of
that and cold water; very seldom I have any dinner,--unless I earn
6_d._ I can’t get any,--and then I have a basin of nice soup, or a
penn’orth of plum-pudding and a couple of baked ’tatoes. At night I
get 1/4_d._ worth of coffee, 1/2_d._ worth of sugar, and 1-1/4_d._
worth of bread, and then I have 2_d._ a night left for my lodging; I
always try to manage that, for I’d do anything sooner than stop out all
night. I’m always happy the day when I make 4_d._, for then I know I
won’t have to sleep in the street. The winter before last, there was a
straw-yard down in Black Jack’s-alley, where we used to go after six
o’clock in the evening, and get 1/2 lb. of bread, and another 1/2 lb.
in the morning, and then we’d gather what we could in the daytime and
buy victuals with what we got for it. We were well off then, but the
straw-yard wasn’t open at all last winter. There used to be 300 of
us in there of a night, a great many of the dock-labourers and their
families were there, for no work was to be got in the docks; so they
weren’t able to pay rent, and were obliged to go in. I’ve lost my
health since I took to bone-picking, through the wet and cold in the
winter, for I’ve scarcely any clothes, and the wet gets to my feet
through the old shoes; this caused me last winter to be nine weeks in
the hospital of the Whitechapel workhouse.”
The narrator of this tale seemed so dejected and broken in spirit,
that it was with difficulty his story was elicited from him. He was
evidently labouring under incipient consumption. I have every reason
to believe that he made a truthful statement,--indeed, he did not
appear to me to have sufficient intellect to invent a falsehood. It is
a curious fact, indeed, with reference to the London street-finders
generally, that they seem to possess less rational power than any
other class. They appear utterly incapable of trading even in the most
trifling commodities, probably from the fact that buying articles
for the purpose of selling them at a profit, requires an exercise
of the mind to which they feel themselves incapable. Begging, too,
requires some ingenuity or tact, in order to move the sympathies of
the well-to-do, and the street-finders being incompetent for this,
they work on day after day as long as they are able to crawl about in
pursuit of their unprofitable calling. This cannot be fairly said of
the younger members of this class, who are sent into the streets by
their parents, and many of whom are afterwards able to find some more
reputable and more lucrative employment. As a body of people, however,
young and old, they mostly exhibit the same stupid, half-witted
appearance.
To show how bone-grubbers occasionally manage to obtain shelter
during the night, the following incident may not be out of place. A
few mornings past I accidentally encountered one of this class in a
narrow back lane; his ragged coat--the colour of the rubbish among
which he toiled--was greased over, probably with the fat of the bones
he gathered, and being mixed with the dust it seemed as if the man
were covered with bird-lime. His shoes--torn and tied on his feet with
pieces of cord--had doubtlessly been picked out of some dust-bin, while
his greasy bag and stick unmistakably announced his calling. Desirous
of obtaining all the information possible on this subject, I asked him
a few questions, took his address, which he gave without hesitation,
and bade him call on me in the evening. At the time appointed, however,
he did not appear; on the following day therefore I made way to the
address he had given, and on reaching the spot I was astonished to find
the house in which he had said he lived was uninhabited. A padlock was
on the door, the boards of which were parting with age. There was not
a whole pane of glass in any of the windows, and the frames of many of
them were shattered or demolished. Some persons in the neighbourhood,
noticing me eyeing the place, asked whom I wanted. On my telling the
man’s name, which it appeared he had not dreamt of disguising, I
was informed that he had left the day before, saying he had met the
landlord in the morning (for such it turned out he had fancied me to
be), and that the gentleman had wanted him to come to his house, but
he was afraid to go lest he should be sent to prison for breaking into
the place. I found, on inspection, that the premises, though locked
up, could be entered by the rear, one of the window-frames having been
removed, so that admission could be obtained through the aperture.
Availing myself of the same mode of ingress, I proceeded to examine
the premises. Nothing could well be more dismal or dreary than the
interior. The floors were rotting with damp and mildew, especially
near the windows, where the wet found easy entrance. The walls were
even slimy and discoloured, and everything bore the appearance of
desolation. In one corner was strewn a bundle of dirty straw, which
doubtlessly had served the bone-grubber for a bed, while scattered
about the floor were pieces of bones, and small fragments of dirty
rags, sufficient to indicate the calling of the late inmate. He had
had but little difficulty in removing his property, seeing that it
consisted solely of his bag and his stick.
The following paragraph concerning the chiffoniers or rag-gatherers of
Paris appeared in the London journals a few weeks since:--
“The fraternal association of rag-gatherers (chiffoniers) gave a
grand banquet on Saturday last (21st of June). It took place at
a public-house called the _Pot Tricolore_, near the _Barrière de
Fontainbleau_, which is frequented by the rag-gathering fraternity. In
this house there are three rooms, each of which is specially devoted
to the use of different classes of rag-gatherers: one, the least
dirty, is called the ‘Chamber of Peers,’ and is occupied by the first
class--that is, those who possess a basket in a good state, and a crook
ornamented with copper; the second, called the ‘Chamber of Deputies,’
belonging to the second class, is much less comfortable, and those
who attend it have baskets and crooks not of first-rate quality; the
third room is in a dilapidated condition, and is frequented by the
lowest class of rag-gatherers who have no basket or crook, and who
place what they find in the streets in a piece of sackcloth. They call
themselves the ‘_Réunion des Vrais Prolétaires_.’ The name of each room
is written in chalk above the door; and generally such strict etiquette
is observed among the rag-gatherers that no one goes into the apartment
not occupied by his own class. At Saturday’s banquet, however, all
distinctions of rank were laid aside, and delegates of each class
united fraternally. The president was the oldest rag-gatherer in Paris;
his age is 88, and he is called ‘the Emperor.’ The banquet consisted
of a sort of _olla podrida_, which the master of the establishment
pompously called _gibelotte_, though of what animal it was composed it
was impossible to say. It was served up in huge earthen dishes, and
before it was allowed to be touched payment was demanded and obtained;
the other articles were also paid for as soon as they were brought in;
and a deposit was exacted as a security for the plates, knives, and
forks. The wine, or what did duty as such, was contained in an earthen
pot called the _Petit Père Noir_, and was filled from a gigantic vessel
named _Le Moricaud_. The dinner was concluded by each guest taking a
small glass of brandy. Business was then proceeded to. It consisted
in the reading and adoption of the statutes of the association,
followed by the drinking of numerous toasts to the president, to the
prosperity of rag-gathering, to the union of rag-gatherers, &c. A
collection amounting to 6_f._ 75_c._ was raised for sick members of the
fraternity. The guests then dispersed; but several of them remained at
the counter until they had consumed in brandy the amount deposited as
security for the crockery, knives, and forks.”