'Dust, Mud, Soot & Soil : The Worst Jobs in Victorian London' (possible sub-sub-title ''It only smells when it's stirred.") is my latest ebook. It's actually more than that, as it's a project I've been working on for about the last nine months. I've long had an idea that I'd like to know more about working life in Victorian London - not so much the economics, which would probably go over my head, in any case, but rather the working conditions and, more importantly, what was it like to be a [choose a profession]. Actually, having chosen a particular aspect of London life - the dirty jobs of dustmen, sweeps, street sweepers, sewer flushers et al., who struggled to keep the grimy city clean - it occurred to me that the question was both more fundamental and specific - what did they actually do?
Of course, a dustman emptied bins. But how often? What size and shape were the bins? What were they paid? What sort of people took the work? Who employed them? What did the Victorians put in their dustbins?
The more I thought about it, the more the questions multiplied, and the more I realised how little I knew. This may explain why what seemed a short project last year has taken quite so long.
In fact, it's not a enormous book. I would prefer to call it a monograph, in true Victorian fashion. It's probably about half the size of a decent paperback. But it is packed with information, not merely about dustmen, chimney sweeps and the rest, but about daily life, and what it was really like to live in the great metropolis. Did you know that 'mud' in Victorian streets was both black and largely horse dung? Likewise the 'coffee-coloured sirocco' of dust that swirled through the city in the summer months - a blend of pulverised horse dung and soot. Did you know that Victorian dust-yards (the great recycling grounds in which women toiled to sift through rubbish for recyclable material) were also inhabited by aggressive pigs? Can you imagine what it was like to hear a boy chimney-sweep scrambling up the flues in your bedroom wall?
I will stop with the questions. Bascially, researching the dirty side of Victorian London brings out a host of fascinating details, in areas often overlooked - the nitty gritty of Victorian life. If that appeals, do give it a try ... available on Kindle here in the UK, in the USA, and elsewhere. Don't forget, there are Kindle apps for phones, ipads, pcs, &c. And if you'd like an EPUB version, then please get in touch ... lee@victorianlondon.org
Showing posts with label Dustman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dustman. Show all posts
Saturday, 24 March 2012
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
Victorian Job Descriptions No.1
The first in what may or may not become an occasional series ... I imagine a Victorian job description ...
Title | Dustman |
Description | Your role in is to collect dust from residents of the parish, and convey it to a dust-yard for sifting and recycling. ‘Dust’ will principally contain a mixture of ash and cinders, but you will also be expected to remove any useless matter that has been placed in the dust-bin, including pieces of smashed crockery; bones; old rags; worn-out oil-cloth, bonnet-boxes, cocoa-nut matting; food scraps; broken glass; dead cats &c. You will be filling 4-6 cart-loads of dust per day, with a minimim of a ton of dust per cart-load. NB. You will not be required to remove night-soil from cess-pools, unless you choose to contract additional work as a night-soil man. |
Line Manager | Your employer will be a dust-contractor, who owns the yard in which the dust is recycled, and has signed a contract with parish authorities to remove household waste. |
Pay | You will be paid eight pence a cart-load, to be shared between yourself and a co-worker. You may choose to claim ‘sparrows’ (tips) from households, amounting to anything from 2d. to 6d. per house, or receive a modicum of beer. If the area is poor (known to your colleagues as a ‘dead piece’) or residents grudge your hard-earned gratuity, you may choose to withold your labour. You may reasonably expect to earn a total of 20s.-25s. a week; a comparatively good wage for manual labour. |
Hours | 6-8 hours a day, during hours of daylight. |
Background | Householders will usually place their dust in dustbins: large, immobile, lidded brick or wooden bins, fixed against garden walls or in basement areas. In shops or properties without an area or garden, you will find assorted pails, buckets and containers, most likely stored in the cellar. You may have heard radical hygienists recommend portable tin or zinc boxes, capable of only holding a week’s rubbish. These are not much in favour in London; you are unlikely to see one. |
Equipment | You will be supplied with a sturdy basket, a shovel and an open-topped high-walled cart. You should provide your own clothing, including strong boots, knee-breeches, a smock-frock or jacket, and a fan-tail hat. |
Skills | Physical skills: Bodily power and endurance. Team Skills: You will be expected to co-operate with a co-worker in a ‘filler’ and ‘carrier’ team: one man filling the basket from the dustbin, the other taking the full basket to the cart. Vocal Skills: Now that the traditional bell has been deemed a nuisance, you must master the street cry of ‘Dust-oy-ee! Dust-oy-ee!’ to alert householders of your approach. |
Education | No education, literacy or numeracy is required. |
Hazards | Considerable exposure to miasma and dirt; although the profession is reputedly remarkably healthy as a body of men. Cinders and ashes may give your skin and clothing an unnatural grey pallor. |
Perks | You may engage in ‘totting’ (searching for items of value before the dust reaches the dust-yard) but, please note, this may be considered larceny, if items have been lost rather than discarded. ‘Sparrows’/beer money (see above). |
Labels:
Dustman,
Victorian London
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