“I can’t tell how many brooms I use; for as fast as I gets one, it is
took from me. God help me! They watch me put it away, and then up they
comes and takes it. What kinds of brooms is the best? Why, as far as I
am concerned, I would sooner have a stump on a dry day--it’s lighter
and handier to carry; but on a wet day, give me a new un.
“I’m sixteen, your honour, and my name’s George Gandea, and the boys
calls me ‘the Goose’ in consequence; for it’s a nickname they gives me,
though my name ain’t spelt with a _har_ at the end, but with a _h’ay_,
so that I ain’t Gand_er_ after all, but Gand_ea_, which is a sell for
’em.
“God knows what I am--whether I’m h’Irish or h’_I_talian, or what; but
I was christened here in London, and that’s all about it.
“Father was a bookbinder. I’m sixteen now, and father turned me away
when I was nine year old, for mother had been dead before that. I was
told my right name by my brother-in-law, who had my register. He’s
a sweep, sir, by trade, and I wanted to know about my real name when
I was going down to the _Waterloo_--that’s a ship as I wanted to get
aboard as a cabin-boy.
“I remember the fust night I slept out after father got rid of me. I
slept on a gentleman’s door-step, in the winter, on the 15th January.
I packed my shirt and coat, which was a pretty good one, right over
my ears, and then scruntched myself into a doorway, and the policeman
passed by four or five times without seeing on me.
“I had a mother-in-law at the time; but father used to drink, or else
I should never have been as I am; and he came home one night, and says
he, ‘Go out and get me a few ha’pence for breakfast,’ and I said I had
never been in the streets in my life, and couldn’t; and, says he, ‘Go
out, and never let me see you no more,’ and I took him to his word, and
have never been near him since.
“Father lived in Barbican at that time, and after leaving him, I used
to go to the Royal Exchange, and there I met a boy of the name of
Michael, and he first learnt me to beg, and made me run after people,
saying, ‘Poor boy, sir--please give us a ha’penny to get a mossel of
bread.’ But as fast as I got anythink, he used to take it away, and
knock me about shameful; so I left him, and then I picked up with a
chap as taught me tumbling. I soon larnt how to do it, and then I used
to go tumbling after busses. That was my notion all along, and I hadn’t
picked up the way of doing it half an hour before I was after that game.
“I took to crossings about eight year ago, and the very fust person
as I asked, I had a fourpenny-piece give to me. I said to him, ‘Poor
little Jack, yer honour,’ and, fust of all, says he, ‘I haven’t got no
coppers,’ and then he turns back and give me a fourpenny-bit. I thought
I was made for life when I got that.
“I wasn’t working in a gang then, but all by myself, and I used to
do well, making about a shilling or ninepence a-day. I lodged in
Church-lane at that time.
“It was at the time of the Shibition year (1851) as these gangs come
up. There was lots of boys that came out sweeping, and that’s how they
picked up the tumbling off me, seeing me do it up in the Park, going
along to the Shibition.
“The crossing at St. Martin’s Church was mine fust of all; and when the
other lads come to it I didn’t take no heed of ’em--only for that I’d
have been a bright boy by now, but they carnied me over like; for when
I tried to turn ’em off they’d say, in a carnying way, ‘Oh, let us stay
on,’ so I never took no heed of ’em.
“There was about thirteen of ’em in my gang at that time.
“They made me cap’an over the lot--I suppose because they thought I was
the best tumbler of ’em. They obeyed me a little. If I told ’em not to
go to any gentleman, they wouldn’t, and leave him to me. There was only
one feller as used to give me a share of his money, and that was for
larning him to tumble--he’d give a penny or twopence, just as he yearnt
a little or a lot. I taught ’em all to tumble, and we used to do it
near the crossing, and at night along the streets.
“We used to be sometimes together of a day, some a-running after one
gentleman, and some after another; but we seldom kept together more
than three or four at a time.
“I was the fust to introduce tumbling backards, and I’m proud of
it--yes, sir, I’m proud of it. There’s another little chap as I’m
larning to do it; but he ain’t got strength enough in his arms like.
(‘Ah!’ exclaimed a lad in the room, ‘he _is_ a one to tumble, is
Johnny--go along the streets like anythink.’)
“He is the King of the Tumblers,” continued Gander--“King, and I’m
Cap’an.”
The old grandmother here joined in. “He was taught by a furreign
gintleman, sir, whose wife rode at a circus. He used to come here twice
a-day and give him lessons in this here very room, sir. That’s how he
got it, sir.”
“Ah,” added another lad, in an admiring tone, “see him and the Goose
have a race! Away they goes, but Jacky will leave him a mile behind.”
The history then continued:--“People liked the tumbling backards and
forards, and it got a good bit of money at fust, but they is getting
tired with it, and I’m growing too hold, I fancy. It hurt me awful at
fust. I tried it fust under a railway arch of the Blackwall Railway;
and when I goes backards, I thought it’d cut my head open. It hurts me
if I’ve got a thin cap on.
“The man as taught me tumbling has gone on the stage. Fust he went
about with swords, fencing, in public-houses, and then he got engaged.
Me and him once tumbled all round the circus at the Rotunda one night
wot was a benefit, and got one-and-eightpence a-piece, and all for only
five hours and a half--from six to half-past eleven, and we acting and
tumbling, and all that. We had plenty of beer, too. We was wery much
applauded when we did it.
“I was the fust boy as ever did ornamental work in the mud of my
crossings. I used to be at the crossing at the corner of Regent-suckus;
and that’s the wery place where I fust did it. The wery fust thing
as I did was a hanker (anchor)--a regular one, with turn-up sides
and a rope down the centre, and all. I sweeped it away clean in the
mud in the shape of the drawing I’d seen. It paid well, for I took
one-and-ninepence on it. The next thing I tried was writing ‘God save
the Queen;’ and that, too, paid capital, for I think I got two bob.
After that I tried We Har (V. R.) and a star, and that was a sweep too.
I never did no flowers, but I’ve done imitations of laurels, and put
them all round the crossing, and very pretty it looked, too, at night.
I’d buy a farthing candle and stick it over it, and make it nice and
comfortable, so that the people could look at it easy. Whenever I see
a carriage coming I used to douse the glim and run away with it, but
the wheels would regularly spile the drawings, and then we’d have all
the trouble to put it to rights again, and that we used to do with our
hands.
“I fust learnt drawing in the mud from a man in Adelaide-street,
Strand; he kept a crossing, but he only used to draw ’em close to the
kerb-stone. He used to keep some soft mud there, and when a carriage
come up to the Lowther Arcade, after he’d opened the door and let the
lady out, he would set to work, and by the time she come back he’d have
some flowers, or a We Har, or whatever he liked, done in the mud, and
underneath he’d write, ‘Please to remember honnest hindustry.’
“I used to stand by and see him do it, until I’d learnt, and when I
knowed, I went off and did it at my crossing.
“I was the fust to light up at night though, and now I wish I’d never
done it, for it was that which got me turned off my crossing, and
a capital one it was. I thought the gentlemen coming from the play
would like it, for it looked very pretty. The policeman said I was
destructing (obstructing) the thoroughfare, and making too much row
there, for the people used to stop in the crossing to look, it were so
pretty. He took me in charge three times on one night, cause I wouldn’t
go away; but he let me go again, till at last I thought he would lock
me up for the night, so I hooked it.
“It was after this as I went to St. Martin’s Church, and I haven’t
done half as well there. Last night I took three-ha’pence; but I was
larking, or I might have had more.”
As a proof of the very small expense which is required for the toilette
of a crossing-sweeper, I may mention, that within a few minutes after
Master Gander had finished his statement, he was in possession of a
coat, for which he had paid the sum of fivepence.
When he brought it into the room, all the boys and the women crowded
round to see the purchase.
“It’s a very good un,” said the Goose. “It only wants just taking up
here and there; and this cuff putting to rights.” And as he spoke he
pointed to tears large enough for a head to be thrust through.
“I’ve seen that coat before, sum’ares,” said one of the women; “where
did you get it?”
“At the chandly-shop,” answered the Goose.