Night-work is, then, essentially, and perhaps necessarily, extra-work, rather than a distinct calling followed by a separate class of workers. The generality of nightmen are scavengers, or dustmen, or chimney-sweepers, or rubbishcarters, or pipe-layers, or ground-workers, or coal-porters, carmen or stablemen, or men working for the market-gardeners round London—all either in or out of employment. Perhaps there is not at the present time in the whole metropolis a working nightman who is solely a working nightman.
It is almost the same with the masternight- men. They are generally masterchimney- sweepers, scavengers, rubbish-carters, and builders. Some of the contractors for the public street scavengery, and the house-dust-bin emptying, are (or have been) among the largest employers of nightmen, but only in their individual trading capacity, for they have no contracts with the parishes concerning the emptying of cesspools; indeed the parish or district corporations have nothing to do with the matter. I have already shown, that among the bestpatronised master-nightmen are now the Commissioners of the Court of Sewers.
For how long a period the master and working chimney-sweepers and scavengers have been the master and labouring nightmen I am unable to discover, but it may be reasonable to assume that this connexion, as a matter of trade, existed in the metropolis at the commencement of the eighteenth century.
The police of Paris, as I have shown, have full control over cesspool cleansing, but the police of London are instructed merely to prevent night-work being carried on at a later or earlier 451 period than "the legal hours;" still a few minutes either way are not regarded, and the legal hours, I am told, are almost always adhered to.
Nightwork is carried on—and has been so carried on, within the memory of the oldest men in the trade, who had never heard their predecessors speak of any other system—after this method:—A gang of four men (exclusive of those who have the care of the horses, and who drive the night-carts to and from the scenes of the men's labours at the cesspools) are set to work. The labour of the gang is divided, though not with any individual or especial strictness, as follows:—
1. The holeman, who goes into the cesspool and fills the tub.
2. The ropeman, who raises the tub when filled.
3. The tubmen (of whom there are two), who carry away the tub when raised, and empty it into the cart.
The mode of work may be thus briefly described:—Within a foot, or even less sometimes, though often as much as three feet, below the surface of the ground (when the cesspool is away from the house) is what is called the "main hole." This is the opening of the cesspool, and is covered with flag stones, removable, wholly or partially, by means of the pickaxe. If the cesspool be immediately under the privy, the flooring, &c., is displaced. Should the soil be near enough to the surface, the tub is dipped into it, drawn out, the filth scraped from its exterior with a shovel, or swept off with a besom, or washed off by water flung against it with sufficient force. This done, the tubmen insert the pole through the handles of the tub, and bear it on their shoulders to the cart. The mode of carriage and the form of the tub have been already shown in an illustration, which I was assured by a nightman who had seen it in a shopwindow (for he could not read), was "as nat'ral as life, tub and all."
Thus far, the ropeman and the holeman generally aid in filling the tub, but as the soil becomes lower, the vessel is let down and drawn up full by the ropeman. When the soil becomes lower still, a ladder is usually planted inside the cesspool; the "holeman," who is generally the strongest person in the gang, descends, shovels the tub full, having stirred up the refuse to loosen it, and the contents, being drawn up by the ropeman, are carried away as before described.
The labour is sometimes severe. The tub when filled, though it is never quite filled, weighs rarely less than eight stone, and sometimes more; "but that, you see, sir," a nightman said to me, "depends on the nature of the sile."
Beer, and bread and cheese, are given to the nightmen, and frequently gin, while at their work; but as the bestowal of the spirit is voluntary, some householders from motives of economy, or from being real or pretended members or admirers of the total-abstinence principles, refuse to give any strong liquor, and in that case—if such a determination to withhold the drink be known beforehand—the employers sometimes supply the men with a glass or two; and the men, when "nothing better can be done," club their own money, and send to some night-house, often at a distance, to purchase a small quantity on their own account. One master-nightman said, he thought his men worked best, indeed he was sure of it, "with a drop to keep them up;" another thought it did them neither good nor harm, "in a moderate way of taking it." Both these informants were themselves temperate men, one rarely tasting spirits. It is commonly enough said, that if the nightmen have no "allowance," they will work neither as quickly nor as carefully as if accorded the customary gin "perquisite." One man, certainly a very strong active person, whose services where quickness in the work was indispensable might be valuable (and he had work as a rubbish-carter also), told me that he for one would not work for any man at nightwork if there was not a fair allowance of drink, "to keep up his strength," and he knew others of the same mind. On my asking him what he considered a "fair" allowance, he told me that at least a bottle of gin among the gang of four was "looked for, and mostly had, over a gentleman's cesspool. And little enough, too," the man said, "among four of us; what it holds if it's public-house gin is uncertain: for you must know, sir, that some bottles has great 'kicks' at their bottoms. But I should say that there's been a bottle of gin drunk at the clearing of every two, ay, and more than every two, out of three cesspools emptied in London; and now that I come to think on it, I should say that's been the case with three out of every four."
Some master-nightmen, and more especially the sweeper-nightmen, work at the cesspools themselves, although many of them are men "well to do in the world." One master I met with, who had the reputation of being "warm," spoke of his own manual labour in shovelling filth in the same self-complacent tone that we may imagine might be used by a grocer, worth his "plum," who quietly intimates that he will serve a washerwoman with her half ounce of tea, and weigh it for her himself, as politely as he would serve a duchess; for he wasn't above his business: neither was the nightman.
On one occasion I went to see a gang of nightmen at work. Large horn lanterns (for the night was dark, though at intervals the stars shone brilliantly) were placed at the edges of the cesspool. Two poles also were temporarily fixed in the ground, to which lanterns were hung, but this is not always the case. The work went rapidly on, with little noise and no confusion.
The scene was peculiar enough. The artificial light, shining into the dark filthy-looking cavern or cesspool, threw the adjacent houses into a deep shade. All around was perfectly still, and there was not an incident to interrupt the labour, except that at one time the window of a neighbouring house was thrown up, a night- 452 capped head was protruded, and then down was banged the sash with an impatient curse. It appeared as if a gentleman's slumbers had been disturbed, though the nightmen laughed and declared it was a lady's voice! The smell, although the air was frosty, was for some little time, perhaps ten minutes, literally sickening; after that period the chief sensation experienced was a slight headache; the unpleasantness of the odour still continuing, though without any sickening effect. The nightmen, however, pronounced the stench "nothing at all;" and one even declared it was refreshing!
The cesspool in this case was so situated that the cart or rather waggon could be placed about three yards from its edge; sometimes, however, the soil has to be carried through a garden and through the house, to the excessive annoyance of the inmates. The nightmen whom I saw evidently enjoyed a bottle of gin, which had been provided for them by the master of the house, as well as some bread and cheese, and two pots of beer. When the waggon was full, two horses were brought from a stable on the premises (an arrangement which can only be occasionally carried out) and yoked to the vehicle, which was at once driven away; a smaller cart and one horse being used to carry off the residue.
Monday, 16 May 2011
Another piece of classic description from Mayhew - how the 'night-soil men' cleaned the capital's cesspools in the 1840s: