A man who had stationed himself at the end of Regent-street, near the
County Fire Office, gave me the following particulars.
He was a man far superior to the ordinary run of sweepers, and, as will
be seen, had formerly been a gentleman’s servant. His costume was of
that peculiar miscellaneous description which showed that it had from
time to time been given to him in charity. A dress-coat so marvellously
tight that the stitches were stretching open, a waistcoat with a
remnant of embroidery, and a pair of trousers which wrinkled like a
groom’s top-boot, had all evidently been part of the wardrobe of the
gentlemen whose errands he had run. His boots were the most curious
portion of his toilette, for they were large enough for a fisherman,
and the portion unoccupied by the foot had gone flat and turned up like
a Turkish slipper.
He spoke with a tone and manner which showed some education. Once or
twice whilst I was listening to his statement he insisted upon removing
some dirt from my shoulder, and, on leaving, he by force seized my hat
and brushed it--all which habits of attention he had contracted whilst
in service.
I was surprised to see stuck in the wristband of his coat-sleeve a row
of pins, arranged as neatly as in the papers sold at the mercers’.
“Since the Irish have come so much--the boys, I mean--my crossing has
been completely cut up,” he said; “and yet it is in as good a spot as
could well be, from the County Fire Office (Mr. Beaumont as owns it)
to Swan and Edgar’s. It ought to be one of the fust crossings in the
kingdom, but these Irish have spiled it.
“I should think, as far as I can guess, I’ve been on it eight year,
if not better; but it was some time before I got known. You see, it
does a feller good to be some time on a crossing; but it all depends,
of course, whether you are honest or not, for it’s according to
your honesty as you gets rewarded. By rewarded, I means, you gets a
character given to you by word of mouth. For instance, a party wants me
to do a job for ’em, and they says, ‘Can you get any lady or gentleman
to speak for you?’ And I says, ‘Yes;’ and I gets my character by word
of mouth--that’s what I calls being rewarded.
“Before ever I took a broom in hand, the good times had gone for
crossings and sweepers. The good times was thirty year back. In
the regular season, when _they_ (the gentry) are in town, I _have_
taken from one and sixpence to two shillings a-day; but every day’s
not alike, for people stop at home in wet days. But, you see, in
winter-time the crossings ain’t no good, and then we turn off to
shovelling snow; so that, you see, a shilling a-day is even too high
for us to take regular all the year round. Now, I ain’t taken a
shilling, no, nor a blessed bit of silver, for these three days. All
the quality’s out of town.
“It ain’t what a man gets on a crossing as keeps him; _that_ ain’t
worth mentioning. I don’t think I takes sixpence a-day regular--all the
year round, mind--on the crossing. No, I’d take my solemn oath I don’t!
If you was to put down fourpence it would be nearer the mark. I’ll tell
you the use of a crossing to such as me and my likes. It’s our shop,
and it ain’t what we gets a-sweeping, but it’s a place like for us to
stand, and then people as wants us, comes and fetches us.
“In the summer I do a good deal in jobs. I do anything in the portering
line, or if I’m called to do boots and shoes, or clean knives and
forks, then I does that. But that’s only when people’s busy; for I’ve
only got one regular place I goes to, and that’s in A---- street,
Piccadilly. I goes messages, parcels, letters, and anything that’s
required, either for the master of the hotel or the gents that uses
there. Now, there’s one party at Swan and Edgar’s, and I goes to take
parcels for him sometimes; and he won’t trust anybody but me, for you
see I’m know’d to be trustworthy, and then they reckons me as safe as
the Bank,--there, that’s just it.
“I got to the hotel only lately. You see, when the peace was on and
the soldiers was coming home from the Crimmy, then the governor he
was exceeding busy, so he give me two shillings a-day and my board;
but that wasn’t reg’lar, for as he wants me he comes and fetches me.
It’s a-nigh impossible to say what I makes, it don’t turn out reg’lar;
Sunday’s a shilling or one-and-sixpence, other days nothing at all--not
salt to my porridge. You see, when I helps the party at the hotel, I
gets my food, and that’s a lift. I’ve never put down what I made in the
course of the year, but I’ve got enough to find food and raiment for
myself and family. Sir, I think I may say I gets about six shillings
a-week, but it ain’t more.
“I’ve been abroad a good deal. I was in Cape Town, Table Bay,
one-and-twenty miles from Simons’ Town--for you see the French
mans-of-war comes in at Cape Town, and the English mans-of-war comes
in at Simons’ Town. I was a gentleman’s servant over there, and a very
good place it was; and if anybody was to have told me years back that I
was to have come to what I am now, I could never have credited it; but
misfortunes has brought me to what I am.
“I come to England thinking to better myself, if so be it was the
opportunity; besides, I was tired of Africy, and anxious to see my
native land.
“I was very hard up--ay, very hard up indeed--before I took to the
cross, and, in preference to turning out dishonest, I says, I’ll buy a
broom and go and sweep and get a honest livelihood.
“There was a Jewish lady and her husband used to live in the Suckus,
and I knowed them and the family--very fine sons they was--and I went
into the shop to ask them to let me work before the shop, and they give
me their permission so to do, and, says she, ‘I’ll allow you threepence
a-week.’ They’ve been good friends to me, and send me a messages; and
wherever they be, may they do well, I says.
“I sometimes gets clothes give to me, but it’s only at Christmas times,
or after its over; and that helps me along--it does so, indeed.
“Whenever I sees a pin or a needle, I picks it up; sometimes I finds
as many as a dozen a-day, and I always sticks them either in my cuff
or in my waistcoat. Very often a lady sees ’em, and then they comes
to me and says, ‘Can you oblige me with a pin?’ and I says, ‘Oh yes,
marm; a couple, or three, if you requires them;’ but it turns out very
rare that I gets a trifle for anything like that. I only does it to be
obliging--besides, it makes you friends, like.
“I can’t tell who’s got the best crossing in London. I’m no judge of
that; it isn’t a broom as can keep a man now. They’re going out of town
so fast, all the harristocracy; though it’s middling classes--such as
is in a middling way like--as is the best friends to me.”