London Labour and the London Poor

“His busy life is past in the markets or the streets, and as his leisure is devoted to the beer-shop, the dancing-room, or the theatre, we must look for his habits to his demeanour at those places. Home has few attractions to a man whose life is a street-life. Even those who are influenced by family ties and affections, prefer to “home”—indeed that word is rarely mentioned among them—the conversation, warmth, and merriment of the beer-shop, where they can take their ease among their ‘mates.’”

Mayhew suggests that the behavior and habits of the man he describes here are best understood through his interactions in these places. The allure of these social venues lies in the camaraderie and connection they provide, fostering a sense of belonging among peers. Mayhew contrasts this communal lifestyle with the limited appeal of the home for those deeply embedded in urban street life, highlighting their detachment from domesticity.

“One candid costermonger expressed his perfect contempt of slangs, as fit only for bunglers, as he could always ‘work slang’ with a true measure. ‘Why, I can cheat any man,’ he said. ‘I can manage to measure mussels so as you’d think you got a lot over, but there’s a lot under measure, for I holds them up with my fingers and keep crying, “Mussels! full measure, live mussels!” I can do the same with peas. I delight to do it with stingy aristocrats. We don’t work slang in the City.’”

A costermonger expresses disdain for “slangs,” deceptive tactics used by street sellers, asserting that he can manipulate customers skillfully without relying on such tricks. The contrast between street vending and the regulated environment of the City emphasizes perceived differences in ethics. The excerpt provides a revealing glimpse into the complexities of street vending, demonstrating the delicate balance between deception and authenticity that defines the interactions between sellers and customers.

“The branch of the tea trade closely connected with the street business is that in tea-leaves. The exhausted leaves of the tea-pot are purchased of servants or of poor women, and they are made into “new” tea. One gentleman—to whose information, and to the care he took to test the accuracy of his every statement, I am bound to express my acknowledgments—told me that it would be fair to reckon that in London 1500 lbs. of tea-leaves were weekly converted into new tea, or 78,000 lbs. in the year!”

Mayhew discusses a lesser-known aspect of the 19th-century London tea trade, highlighting the resourceful yet exploitative practice of repurposing exhausted tea leaves into “new” tea. These used leaves, collected from servants and poor women, underscore the ingenuity of the urban poor in maximizing available resources. By quantifying the practice, he accentuates the scale of this repurposing.

“Nor can it be said that the Street-Sellers are interlopers upon these occasions, for if ancient custom be referred to, it will be found that the Shopkeepers are the real intruders, they having succeeded the Hawkers, who were, in truth, the original distributors of the produce of the country.”

Mayhew states that street sellers are not newcomers disrupting established practices. Shopkeepers replaced the original hawker tradition, which historically played a pivotal role in distributing goods. By highlighting the historical continuity of street vending, Mayhew prompts readers to reconsider their views and appreciate the longstanding tradition that street sellers represent within urban commerce.

“For many years I lived by the sale of toys, such as little chairs, tables, and a variety of other little things which I made myself and sold in the streets; and I used to make a good deal of money by them; I might have done well, but when a man hasn’t got a careful partner, it’s of no use what he does, he’ll never get on, he may as well give it up at once, for the money’ll go out ten times as fast as he can bring it in. I hadn’t the good fortune to have a careful woman, but one who, when I wouldn’t give her money to waste and destroy, took out my property and made money of it to drink.”

In this quote, the speaker (a salt seller Mayhew interviewed) reflects on his past as a self-made toy seller, noting his initial success. He attributes his eventual downfall to the absence of a careful partner, emphasizing how the lack of responsible support hindered progress. The quote underscores the dual role of individual effort, external circumstances, and partnerships’ impact on financial stability.

“He had been three years mud-larking, and supposed he should remain a mud-lark all his life. What else could he be? For there was nothing else he knew how to do.”

The author portrays the sense of resignation and constrained options that individuals in certain occupations might experience as a result of their circumstances. The sentiment about mudlarking sheds light on the challenges facing those bound to specific occupations out of necessity, underscoring how socioeconomic conditions and a lack of alternatives can lead to a perceived lack of mobility or change in one’s life trajectory.

“By dust the street-cleansers mean the collection of every kind of refuse in the dust-bins; but I here speak, of course, of the fine particles of earthy matter produced by the attrition of our roads when in a dry state. Street-dust is, more properly speaking, mud deprived of its moisture by evaporation. Miss Landon (L. E. L.) used to describe the London dust as ‘mud in high spirits,’ and perhaps no figure of speech could convey a better notion of its character.”

Mayhew distinguishes dust from the refuse collected in dust-bins and concisely explains its composition. He enhances this explanation by referencing Miss Landon’s description of London dust as “mud in high spirits,” a metaphor that encapsulates the lively and dynamic nature of the seemingly mundane street dust. Through this passage, Mayhew skillfully blends technical clarity with poetic imagery, inviting readers to perceive the multifaceted aspects of urban life with more nuance.

“A labourer, in order to be self-supporting and avoid becoming a ‘burden’ on the parish, requires something more than bare subsistence-money in remuneration for his labour, and yet this is generally the mode by which we test the sufficiency of wages. ‘A man can live very comfortably upon that!’ is the exclamation of those who have seldom thought upon what constitutes the minimum of self-support in this country.”

The author addresses the misconceptions surrounding laborer wages and self-sufficiency. He criticizes the common practice of evaluating wage sufficiency based solely on covering bare subsistence, pointing out that this approach overlooks the complexities of achieving true financial stability. By suggesting that laborers require more than mere survival money, he underscores the limitations of assessing wages through the lens of whether someone can “live comfortably.”

“Until the ravages of the cholera in 1832, and again in 1848, roused the attention of Government and of the country, men seemed satisfied to dwell in dirty streets, and to congratulate themselves that the public ways were dirtier in the days of their fathers.”

Mayhew notes the role of the cholera outbreaks as catalysts for awareness of the dire state of urban hygiene. In doing so, he exposes the societal tendency to tolerate deteriorating conditions until external events, like disease outbreaks, compel emergency action. Crises have power to shape collective perception and drive change in matters of public health and urban living.

“It is easy enough for men in smooth circumstances to say, ‘the privation is a man’s own fault, since, to avoid it, he has but to apportion the sum he may receive in a lump over the interval of non-recompense which he knows will follow.’ Such a course as this, experience and human nature have shown not to be easy—perhaps, with a few exceptions, not to be possible.”

This quote examines the notion that people can avoid poverty through careful financial planning. Although Mayhew acknowledges the perspective that suggests individuals could distribute their income over periods of non-recompense, he challenges this view by asserting that while it might seem feasible for those in comfortable circumstances, experience and human nature complicate the application of such a strategy. He highlights the complexities of managing irregular or unpredictable incomes and suggests that the proposed approach is, in most cases, not practically achievable.

“Concerning street musicians, they are of multifarious classes. As a general rule, they may almost be divided into the tolerable and the intolerable performers, some of them trusting to their skill in music for the reward for their exertions, others only making a noise, so that whatever money they obtain is given them merely as an inducement for them to depart.”

Mayhew classifies street musicians into two categories based on their performance quality. He distinguishes between the “tolerable” performers, who rely on their musical skill to earn rewards, and the “intolerable” ones, who essentially produce noise rather than music. He suggests that money given to the former is a reward for their entertaining abilities, while the latter receive money as an incentive to stop their noisemaking and leave the area. This highlights the contrast between those who contribute something worthwhile to the public space and those who detract from it and how people can leverage both for reward.

“To look in the faces of that hungry crowd is to see a sight that must be ever remembered. Some are smiling to the foreman to coax him into remembrance of them; others, with their protruding eyes, eager to snatch at the hoped-for pass. For weeks many have gone there, and gone through the same struggle—the same cries; and have gone away, after all, without the work they had screamed for.”

Mayhew gives a vivid account of a desperate crowd of laborers seeking work at the docks. He emphasizes the repetitious nature of this struggle, with weeks marked by the same cycle of hope and disappointment. This depiction captures the persistent and wearisome quest for livelihood amid scarcity and competition. Through this scene, Mayhew forces readers to face the extent of the vulnerability of the urban poor.

“He led me through a narrow passage into a small room on the ground floor, in which sat, I should think, at least twenty or thirty of the most wretched objects I ever beheld. Some were shoeless—some coatless—others shirtless; and from all these came so rank and foul a stench, that I was sickened with a moment’s inhalation of the fetid atmosphere.”

The author describes a scene he encountered in one of the dock laborers’ lodging houses. His descriptions of the occupants of the house underscore their lack of basic necessities. Through his evocative language and multisensory imagery, Mayhew conveys the dire living conditions of the laborers.

“I wanted to learn from them what had been their motive for stealing in the first instance, and I found upon questioning them, that ten did so on running away from home; five confessed to have done so from keeping flash company, and wanting money to defray their expenses; six had first stolen to go to theatres; nine, because they had been imprisoned for vagrants, and found that the thief was better treated than they; one because he had got no tools to work with; one because he was ‘hard up;’ one because he could not get work; and one more because he was put in prison for begging.”

Mayhew adopts an investigative approach to comprehend the motivations behind theft by gathering insights from various thieves. He categorizes their reasons for stealing, revealing a spectrum of motivations that exceeds mere criminal intent. This approach reflects his broader exploration of the complexities of poverty and crime within the context of 19th-century London, revealing a nuanced perspective on the interplay of influences, circumstances, and survival strategies among the urban poor.

“A labouring man, or mechanic, deprived of employment in a particular town, sets out on a journey to seek work in some other part of the country. The mere fact of his so journeying to seek work shows that he has a natural aversion to become a burden to the parish. He is no sooner, however, become an inmate of the casual wards, and breakfasts and sups off the bounty of the workhouse, than he learns a most dangerous lesson--he learns how to live by the labour of others.”

This quote explores the relationship between employment, self-reliance, and institutional support among the poor. Mayhew describes how laborers or mechanics, when facing unemployment, journey to seek work elsewhere, driven by a natural aversion to becoming a burden on their community. However, he asserts that this dynamic changes once these individuals enter the casual wards. The experience of depending on others for survival transforms their perspective, potentially leading to a shift from self-sufficiency to reliance on assistance. This mentality, which was common among those discussing support for people experiencing poverty in the 19th century, persists in the modern day.

“I now come to the characteristics of vagrant life, as seen in the casual wards of the metropolitan unions. The subject is one of the most important with which I have yet had to deal, and the facts I have collected are sufficiently startling to give the public an idea of the great social bearings of the question: for the young vagrant is the budding criminal.”

Mayhew underscores the broader social implications of vagrancy by implying that it affects society beyond the immediate circumstances of vagrants. The quote’s conclusion, that “the young vagrant is the budding criminal,” carries a sense of urgency, hinting at a potentially alarming cycle from homelessness to criminal behavior.

“To this place swarm, as the bitter winter’s night comes on, some half-thousand penniless and homeless wanderers. The poverty-stricken from every quarter of the globe are found within its wards; from the haggard American seaman to the lank Polish refugee, the pale German ‘out-wanderer,’ the tearful black sea-cook, the shivering Lascar crossing-sweeper, the helpless Chinese beggar, and the half-torpid Italian organ-boy. It is, indeed, a ragged congress of nations—a convocation of squalor and misery—of destitution, degradation, and suffering, from all the corners of the earth.”

The author paints a stark picture of London’s Asylum for the Houseless Poor. His choice of words underscores the gravity of the situation and attempts to evoke empathy from readers. In addition, he captures the diverse range of its inhabitants and emphasizes the collective vulnerability and suffering of poor individuals from all nationalities.

“The attainment of the truth, then, will be my primary aim; but by the truth, I wish it to be understood, I mean something more than the bare facts. Facts, according to my ideas, are merely the elements of truths, and not the truths themselves; of all matters there are none so utterly useless by themselves as your mere matters of fact.”

Mayhew rejects the notion that isolated facts hold significant value on their own and that they are essentially useless in isolation. Instead, he seeks to create something beyond surface-level information and covers the context, connections, and meanings that emerge from the factual elements.

“The essential quality of an animal is that it seeks its own living, whereas a vegetable has its living brought to it. An animal cannot stick its feet in the ground and suck up the inorganic elements of its body from the soil, nor drink in the organic elements from the atmosphere.”

The author compares workers and nonworkers with animals and plants, drawing a parallel between active seekers of sustenance (animals and workers) and passive recipients of resources (plants and nonworkers). This supports his point that, like animals, those who work need resources to counteract the strains of labor and therefore deserve them, while those who don’t work do not.

“But these divisions, it is evident, are as unscientific as they are arbitrary; nor would it be possible, by adopting such a classification, to arrive at any practical result.”

In his discussion of the issues associated with scientifically categorizing different types of labor, one of the author’s main arguments is the varied methods for naming different professions. These divisions lack a systematic basis, and Mayhew implies that relying on such classifications would hinder reaching meaningful or valuable conclusions.

“But there are other crimes or offences against the social powers, besides such as are committed by those who will not work. The crimes perpetrated by those who object to labour for their living, are habitual crimes; whereas those perpetrated by the other classes of society are accidental crimes, arising from the pressure of a variety of circumstances. Here, then, we have a most important fundamental distinction: all crimes, and consequently all criminals, are divisible into two different classes, the professional and the casual.”

Mayhew contrasts “habitual crimes,” committed by those who shun work and sustain themselves through criminal acts, with “accidental crimes,” committed by individuals from different societal classes because of various external circumstances. This distinction highlights the deliberate, consistent nature of criminal behavior among those who choose illicit livelihoods while recognizing that others may engage in criminal acts as a result of temporary or external pressures.

“I’m very often sad, although I appear to be what you call reckless. Well! we don’t fret that we might have been ladies, because we never had a chance of that, but we have forfeited a position nevertheless, and when we think that we have fallen, never to regain that which we have descended from, and in some cases sacrificed everything for a man who has ceased to love and deserted us, we get mad.”

In this passage, an interviewed sex worker reflects on her circumstances and profession. Her words center the female perspective on the issue of sexual morality and contradict the assertions that women who perform sex work are sad about their lives. Instead, she expresses anger at the lack of justice in her circumstances and those of others like her.

“Mendicancy has always increased to an alarming extent after a war, and during the time of war, if it has been protracted. There is no doubt that the calamities of war reduce many respectable persons to want; but at the same time the circumstances which attend a period of commotion and trouble always afford opportunities to impostors.”

This quote focuses on the impact of war on begging and its consequences. While war-induced calamities can drive formerly respectable individuals into poverty, Halliday notes that tumultuous wartime conditions also provide opportunities for impostors to exploit chaos. War amplifies genuine need while simultaneously enabling deceptive practices.