CHAPTER XXVI.
Daily life of the streets—The Chimney Sweep—Mrs. Montagu—Instances of the hard life of a “climbing boy”—The Milkmaid—Supply of milk to the Metropolis—“Hot loaves”—“Water cresses”—whence they came—Other cries.
LET US GO to authentic sources, and, in our imaginations, people the streets as they then were, following the example which Gay has so worthily given in his “Trivia.” Leaving aside the roysterers, and nightly bad characters, together with the watchmen, the first industrial perambulator, would probably be the Sweep. In the frontispiece to this volume, the “climbing boy,” as he was called, is faithfully depicted, drinking his early cup of saloop, the utensils of his trade, his brush, shovel, and scraper, lying by his side; in his cap is a brass plate containing his master’s name and address. Poor little fellows! their lives were harsh! With hard taskmasters, badly constructed chimneys, and flues to sweep, and laborious work, climbing with back and knees; with a foul atmosphere, and lungs choked with soot, their young days must have been joyless. Of course we cannot blame the people then living, because they had not sufficient mechanical knowledge to abolish the climbing boy’s raison d’être. It is pleasing to register within the decade I write of, one good and kind friend of these little fellows—a Mrs. Montagu, who died in March, 1800. She was a lady of good family, and an authoress (founder of the Blue Stocking Club), who even attempted so high a flight as an “Essay on the Writings and Genius of Shakespeare.” In her practical benevolence, her heart felt for these little pariahs, and she annually regaled them on May-day, with roast beef and plum pudding. This conduct was so contrary to the general spirit of the age—which could see nothing more in a “climbing boy,” than a boy being utilized for his own good, and for that of the community, that her conduct was scarcely understood—so much so, that a web of romance had to be woven around her, in order to account for it. It was rumoured, and credibly believed, that she had lost a son, and found him again as a “climbing boy”; and, to mark her sense of gratitude for his restoration, she feasted all the boys in London on the sweep’s holiday—May-day. Of course, there is not an atom of foundation for such a story, but practical philanthropy was then so unusual, that a reason had to be found for its observance. After her death the following verses were written:
“And is all pity for the poor sweeps fled
Since Montagu is numbered with the dead?
She who did once the many sorrows weep,
That met the wanderings of the woe-worn sweep!
Who, once a year, bade all his griefs depart,
On May’s sweet morn would doubly cheer his heart!
Washed was his little form, his shirt was clean,
On that one day, his real face was seen.
His shoeless feet, now boasted pumps, and new.
The brush, and shovel, gaily held to view!
The table spread, his every sense was charmed,
And every savoury smell his bosom warmed;
His light heart joyed to see such goodly cheer.
And much he longed to taste the mantling beer:
His hunger o’er—the scene was little heaven—
If riches thus can bless, what blessings might be given
But she is gone! none left to soothe their grief,
Or, once a year, bestow their meed of beef!”
One instance, only, of the hard life of these little ones, will I give, and then pass on to pleasanter themes.
Morning Herald, October 1, 1802: “Great Marlborough Street. Wednesday, an interesting examination took place at this office, relative to a male child, about eight years old, charged to have been kidnapped by the foreman of Mrs. Bridges, a chimney-sweeper, in Swallow Street. It was stated by Mrs. Wilson, of No. 5 in the same street, that, on Saturday last, she was dreadfully alarmed by the cry of murder, and the screams of the child at Mrs. B.’s, which induced her to run into the house, where she found the child stripped, and the prisoner unmercifully beating him with two switches, or small sticks. She remonstrated with him, and demanded by what authority he so cruelly treated the child, as it was well known it had been inveigled from the street, and unlawfully detained by them. The prisoner threatened to strike the witness, who, nevertheless, persisted in taking away the child, and did actually take it to the workhouse, informing the committee there of the particulars, and the prisoner, in consequence, was indicted.
