This man lives up a little court running out of a wide, second-rate
street. It is a small court, consisting of some half-dozen houses, all
of them what are called by courtesy “private.”
I inquired at No. 3 for John ----; “The first-floor back, if you
please, sir;” and to the first-floor back I went.
Here I was answered by a good-looking and intelligent young woman, with
a baby, who said her husband had not yet come home, but would I walk
in and wait? I did so; and found myself in a very small, close room,
with a little furniture, which the man called “his few sticks,” and
presently discovered another child--a little girl. The girl was very
shy in her manner, being only two years and two months old, and as her
mother said, very ailing from the difficulty of cutting her teeth,
though the true cause seemed to be want of proper nourishment and
fresh air. The baby was a boy--a fine, cheerful, good-tempered little
fellow, but rather pale, and with an unnaturally large forehead. The
mantelpiece of the room was filled with little ornaments of various
sorts, such as bead-baskets, and over them hung a series of black
profiles--not portraits of either the crossing-sweeper or any of his
family, but an odd lot of heads, which had lost their owners many a
year, and served, in company with a little red, green, and yellow
scripture-piece, to keep the wall from looking bare. Over the door
(inside the room) was nailed a horse-shoe, which, the wife told me,
had been put there by her husband, for luck.
A bed, two deal tables, a couple of boxes, and three chairs, formed
the entire furniture of the room, and nearly filled it. On the
window-frame was hung a small shaving-glass; and on the two boxes
stood a wicker-work apology for a perambulator, in which I learnt the
poor crippled man took out his only daughter at half-past four in the
morning.
“If some people was to see that, sir,” said the sweeper, when he
entered and saw me looking at it, “they would, and in fact they _do_
say, ‘Why, you can’t be in want.’ Ah! little they know how we starved
and pinched ourselves before we could get it.”
There was a fire in the room, notwithstanding the day was very hot;
but the window was wide open, and the place tolerably ventilated,
though oppressive. I have been in many poor people’s “places,” but
never remember one so poor in its appointments and yet so _free_ from
effluvia.
The crossing-sweeper himself was a very civil sort of man, and in
answer to my inquiries said:--
“I know that I do as I ought to, and so I don’t feel hurt at standing
at my crossing. I have been there four years. I found the place vacant.
My wife, though she looks very well, will never be able to do any hard
work; so we sold our mangle, and I took to the crossing: but we’re not
in debt, and nobody can’t say nothing to us. I like to go along the
streets free of such remarks as is made by people to whom you owes
money. I had a mangle in ---- Yard, but through my wife’s weakness I
was forced to part with it. I was on the crossing a short time before
that, for I knew that if I parted with my mangle and things before I
knew whether I could get a living at the crossing I couldn’t get my
mangle back again.
“We sold the mangle only for a sovereign, and we gave two-pound-ten
for it; we sold it to the same man that we bought it of. About six
months ago I managed for to screw and save enough to buy that little
wicker chaise, for I can’t carry the children because of my one leg,
and of course the mother can’t carry them both out together. There was
a man had the crossing I’ve got; he died three or four years before I
took it; but he didn’t depend on the crossing--he did things for the
tradespeople about, such as carpet-beating, messages, and so on.
“When I first took the crossing I did very well. It happened to be a
very nasty, dirty season, and I took a good deal of money. Sweepers are
not always civil, sir.
“I wish I had gone to one of the squares, though. But I think after
---- street is paved with stone I shall do better. I am certain I never
taste a bit of meat from one week’s end to the other. The best day I
ever made was five-and-sixpence or six shillings; it was the winter
before last. If you remember, the snow laid very thick on the ground,
and the sudden thaw made walking so uncomfortable, that I did very
well. I have taken as little as sixpence, fourpence, and even twopence.
Last Thursday I took two ha’pence all day. Take one week with the
other, seven or eight shillings is the very outside.
“I don’t know how it is, but some people who used to give me a penny,
don’t now. The boys who come in wet weather earn a great deal more
than I do. I once lost a good chance, sir, at the corner of the street
leading to Cavendish-square. There’s a bank, and they pay a man seven
shillings a-week to sweep the crossing: a butcher in Oxford Market
spoke for me; but when I went up, it unfortunately turned out that I
was not fit, from the loss of my leg. The last man they had there they
were obliged to turn away--he was so given to drink.
“I think there are some rich crossing-sweepers in the city, about
the Exchange; but you won’t find them now during this dry weather,
except in by-places. In wet weather, there are two or three boys who
sweep near my crossing, and take all my earnings away. There’s a great
able-bodied man besides--a fellow strong enough to follow the plough.
I said to the policeman, ‘Now, ain’t this a shame?’ and the policeman
said, ‘Well, _he_ must get his living as well as you.’ I’m always
civil to the police, and they’re always civil to me--in fact, I think
sometimes I’m too civil--I’m not rough enough with people.
“You soon tell whether to have any hopes of people coming across. I can
tell a gentleman directly I see him.
“Where I stand, sir, I could get people in trouble everlasting; there’s
all sorts of thieving going on. I saw the other day two or three
respectable persons take a purse out of an old lady’s pocket before
the baker’s shop at the corner; but I can’t say a word, or they would
come and throw me into the road. If a gentleman gives me sixpence, he
don’t give me any more for three weeks or a month; but I don’t think
I’ve more than three or four gentlemen as gives me that. Well, you can
scarcely tell the gentleman from the clerk, the clerks are such great
swells now.
“Lawyers themselves dress very plain; those great men who don’t come
every day, because they’ve clerks to do their business for them, they
give most. People hardly ever stop to speak unless it is to ask you
where places are--you might be occupied at that all day. I manage to
pay my rent out of what I take on Sunday, but not lately--this weather
religious people go pleasuring.
“No, I don’t go now--the fact is, I’d like to go to church, if I could,
but when I come home I am tired; but I’ve got books here, and they do
as well, sir. I read a little and write a little.
“I lost my leg through a swelling--there was no chloroform then. I
was in the hospital three years and a half, and was about fifteen or
sixteen when I had it off. I always feel the sensation of the foot,
and more so at change of weather. I feel my toes moving about, and
everything; sometimes, it’s just as if the calf of my leg was itching.
I _feel_ the rain coming; when I see a cloud coming my leg shoots, and
I know we shall have rain.
“My mother was a laundress--my father has been dead nineteen years my
last birthday. My mother was subject to fits, so I was forced to stop
at home to take care of the business.
“I don’t want to get on better, but I always think, if sickness or
anything comes on----
“I am at my crossing at half-past eight; at half-past eleven I come
home to dinner. I go back at one or two till seven.
“Sometimes I mind horses and carts, but the boys get all that business.
One of these little customers got sixpence the other day for only
opening the door of a cab. I don’t know how it is they let these little
boys be about; if I was the police, I wouldn’t allow it.
“I think it’s a blessing, having children--(referring to his little
girl)--that child wants the gravy of meat, or an egg beaten up, but
she can’t get it. I take her out every morning round Euston-square and
those open places. I get out about half-past four. It is early, but if
it benefits her, that’s no odds.”