The total sum paid to the six gangs of labourers in the course of the year would, at the rate of ten cesspools emptied per week, amount to the following:—
Any householder, &c., who applies to the Court of Sewers, or to any officer of the court whom he may know, has his cesspool cleansed by the hydraulic method, in the same way as he might employ any tradesman to do any description of work proper to his calling. The charge (by the Court of Sewers) is 5s. or 6s. per square yard, according to pipeage, &c. required; a cesspool emptied by this system costs from 20s. to 30s. The charges of the nightmen, who have to employ horses, &c., are necessarily higher.
| Estimating that throughout London 60 cesspools are emptied by the hydraulic method every week, or 3120 every year, and the charge for each to be on an average 25s., we have for the gross receipts 3120 × 25s. = | £3900 |
| And deducting from this the sum paid for labour | 1739 |
| It shows a profit of | £2161 |
This is upwards of 123 per cent; but out of this, interest on capital and wear and tear of machinery have to be paid.
During the year 1851, I am credibly informed that as many as 3000 sewers were emptied by the hydraulic process; and calculating each to have contained the average quantity of refuse, viz. five tons or loads, or about 180 cubic feet, we have an aggregate of 540,000 cubic feet of cesspoolage ultimately carried off by the sewers. This, however, is only a twenty-seventh of the entire quantity.
The sum paid in wages to the men engaged in emptying these 3000 cesspools by the hydraulic process would, at the rate of 2s. per man to the four members of the gang, and 3s. to the ganger, or 11s. in all for each cesspool, amount to 1650l., which is 139l. and 250 cesspools less than the amount above given.
Statement of a Cesspool-Sewerman.
I give the following brief and characteristic statement, which is peculiar in showing the habitual restlessness of the mere labourer. My informant was a stout, hale-looking man, who had rarely known illness. All these sort of labourers (nightmen included) scout the notion of the cholera attacking them!
“Work, sir? Well, I think I do know what work is, and has known it since I was a child; and then I was set to help at the weaving. My friends were weavers at Norwich, and 26 years ago, until steam pulled working men down from being well paid and well off, it was a capital trade. Why, my father could sometimes earn 3l. at his work as a working weaver; there was money for ever then; now 12s. a-week is, I believe, the tip-top earnings of his trade. But I didn’t like the confinement or the close air in the factories, and so, when I grew big enough, I went to ground-work in the city (so he frequently called Norwich); I call ground-work such as digging drains and the like. Then I ’listed into the Marines. Oh, I hardly know what made me; men does foolish things and don’t know why; it’s human natur. I’m sure it wasn’t the bounty of 3l. that tempted me, for I was doing middling, and sometimes had night-work as well as ground-work to do. I was then sent to Sheerness and put on board the Thunderer man-of-war, carrying 84 guns, as a marine. She sailed through the Straits (of Gibraltar), and was three years and three months blockading the Dardanelles, and cruising among the islands. I never saw anything like such fortifications as at the Dardanelles; why, there was mortars there as would throw a ton weight. No, I never heard of their having been fired. Yes, we sometimes got leave for a party to go ashore on one of the islands. They called them Greek islands, but I fancy as how it was Turks near the Dardanelles. O yes, the men on the islands was civil enough to us; they never spoke to us, and we never spoke to them. The sailors sometimes, and indeed the lot of us, would have bits of larks with them, laughing at ’em and taking sights at ’em and such like. Why, I’ve seen a fine-dressed Turk, one of their grand gentlemen there, when a couple of sailors has each been taking a sight at him, and dancing the shuffle along with it, make each on ’em a low bow, as solemn as could be. Perhaps he thought it was a way of being civil in our country! I’ve seen some of the head ones stuck over with so many knives, and cutlasses, and belts, and pistols, and things, that he looked like a cutler’s shop-window. We were ordered home at last, and after being some months in barracks, which I didn’t relish at all, were paid off at Plymouth. Oh, a barrack life’s anything but pleasant, but I’ve done with it. After that I was eight years and a quarter a gentleman’s servant, coachman, or anything (in Norwich), and then got tired of that and came to London, and got to ground and new sewer-work, and have been on the sewers above five years. Yes, I prefer the sewers to the Greek islands. I was one of the first set as worked a pump. There was a great many spectators; I dare say as there was 40 skientific gentlemen. I’ve been on the sewers, flushing and pumping, ever since. The houses we clean out, all says it’s far the best plan, ours is. ‘Never no more nightmen,’ they say. You see, sir, our plan’s far less trouble to the people in the house, and there’s no smell—least I never found no smell, and it’s cheap, too. In time the nightmen’ll disappear; in course they must, there’s so many new dodges comes up, always some one of the working classes is a being ruined. If it ain’t steam, it’s something else as knocks the bread out of their mouths quite as quick.”