The conductor, who is vulgarly known as the “cad,” stands on a small
projection at the end of the omnibus; and it is his office to admit
and set down every passenger, and to receive the amount of fare, for
which amount he is, of course, responsible to his employers. He is paid
4_s._ a-day, which he is allowed to stop out of the monies he receives.
He fills up a waybill each journey, with the number of passengers. I
find that nearly all classes have given a quota of their number to
the list of conductors. Among them are grocers, drapers, shopmen,
barmen, printers, tailors, shoemakers, clerks, joiners, saddlers,
coach-builders, porters, town-travellers, carriers, and fishmongers.
Unlike the drivers, the majority of the conductors are unmarried men;
but, perhaps, only a mere majority. As a matter of necessity, every
conductor must be able to read and write. They are discharged more
frequently than the drivers; but they require good characters before
their appointment. From one of them, a very intelligent man, I had the
following statement:--
“I am 35 or 36, and have been a conductor for six years. Before that
I was a lawyer’s clerk, and then a picture-dealer; but didn’t get on,
though I maintained a good character. I’m a conductor now, but wouldn’t
be long behind a ’bus if it wasn’t from necessity. It’s hard to get
anything else to do that you can keep a wife and family on, for people
won’t have you from off a ’bus. The worst part of my business is its
uncertainty, I may be discharged any day, and not know for what. If
I did, and I was accused unjustly, I might bring my action; but it’s
merely, ‘You’re not wanted.’ I think I’ve done better as a conductor
in hot weather, or fine weather, than in wet; though I’ve got a good
journey when it’s come on showery, as people was starting for or
starting from the City. I had one master, who, when his ’bus came in
full in the wet, used to say, ‘This is prime. Them’s God Almighty’s
customers; he sent them.’ I’ve heard him say so many a time. We get far
more ladies and children, too, on a fine day; they go more a-shopping
then, and of an evening they go more to public places. I pay over my
money every night. It runs from 40_s._ to 4_l._ 4_s._, or a little
more on extraordinary occasions. I have taken more money since the
short uns were established. One day before that I took only 18_s._
There’s three riders and more now, where there was two formerly at the
higher rate. I never get to a public place, whether it’s a chapel or a
play-house, unless, indeed, I get a holiday, and that is once in two
years. I’ve asked for a day’s holiday and been refused. I was told I
might take a week’s holiday, if I liked, or as long as I lived. I’m
quite ignorant of what’s passing in the world, my time’s so taken up.
We only know what’s going on from hearing people talk in the ’bus. I
never care to read the paper now, though I used to like it. If I have
two minutes to spare, I’d rather take a nap than anything else. We know
no more politics than the backwoodsmen of America, because we haven’t
time to care about it. I’ve fallen asleep on my step as the ’bus was
going on, and almost fallen off. I have often to put up with insolence
from vulgar fellows, who think it fun to chaff a cad, as they call it.
There’s no help for it. Our masters won’t listen to complaints: if we
are not satisfied we can go. Conductors are a sober set of men. We must
be sober. It takes every farthing of our wages to live well enough, and
keep a wife and family. I never knew but one teetotaller on the road.
He’s gone off it now, and he looked as if he was going off altogether.
The other day a teetotaller on the ’bus saw me take a drink of beer,
and he began to talk to me about its being wrong; but I drove him mad
with argument, and the passengers took part with me. I live one and a
half mile off the place I start from. In summer I sometimes breakfast
before I start. In winter, I never see my three children, only as
they’re in bed; and I never hear their voices, if they don’t wake up
early. If they cry at night it don’t disturb me; I sleep so heavy
after fifteen hours’ work out in the air. My wife doesn’t do anything
but mind the family, and that’s plenty to do with young children. My
business is so uncertain. Why, I knew a conductor who found he had paid
6_d._ short--he had left it in a corner of his pocket; and he handed it
over next morning, and was discharged for that--he was reckoned a fool.
They say the sharper the man the better the ’busman. There’s a great
deal in understanding the business, in keeping a sharp look-out for
people’s hailing, and in working the time properly. If the conductor’s
slow the driver can’t get along; and if the driver isn’t up to the mark
the conductor’s bothered. I’ve always kept time except once, and that
was in such a fog, that I had to walk by the horses’ heads with a link,
and could hardly see my hand that held the link; and after all I lost
my ’bus, but it was all safe and right in the end. We’re licensed now
in Scotland-yard. They’re far civiller there than in Lancaster-place. I
hope, too, they’ll be more particular in granting licenses. They used
to grant them day after day, and I believe made no inquiry. It’ll be
better now. I’ve never been fined: if I had I should have to pay it
out of my own pocket. If you plead guilty it’s 5_s._ If not, and it’s
very hard to prove that you did display your badge properly if the
City policeman--there’s always one on the look-out for us--swears you
didn’t, and summons you for that: or, if you plead not guilty, because
you weren’t guilty, you may pay 1_l._ I don’t know of the checks now;
but I know there are such people. A man was discharged the other day
because he was accused of having returned three out of thirteen short.
He offered to make oath he was correct; but it was of no use--he went.”