Esther M. Zimmer Lederberg
Henry Mayhew's 19th Century London
What Charles Dickens Saw
Sewer-Hunter
He is a broad-shouldered, strongly-built man,
with a stoop in his shoulders, and a rather dull
cast of features; from living so much in the
"shores" (sewers), his eyes have assumed a
peering kind of look, that is quite
rat-like in its furtiveness.
He answered our questions with great good humour,
but in short monosyllabic terms, peculiar to
men who have little communion with their fellows.
The "parlour" in which the man lives was literally
swarming with children when we paid him a visit
(they were not all "belonging" to him). Nor was it
quite pleasant to find that the smell of the tea,
which had just been made, was overpowered by the
odour of the rats which he keeps in the same room.
The week's wash was hanging across the apartment,
and gave rather a slovenly aspect to the room, not
otherwise peculiar for its untidyness; against the
wall were pasted some children's "characters,"
which his second son, who is at the coal-shed, has
a taste for, and which, as the "shoreman" observed,
"is better than sweet-stuff for him, at all events."
A little terrier was jumping playfully about the
room, a much more acceptable companion than the
bull-dog whose acquaintance we had been invited
to make (in the same court) by the "rat-killer."
The furniture and appointments of the "parlour"
were extremely humble—not to say meagre in
their character. After some trouble in getting
sufficiently lucid answers, the following was
the result:—
"There are not so many rats about as there used
to be—not a five-hundredth part so many.
I've seen long ago twenty or thirty in a row near
where the slaughter-houses are, and that like. I
ketch them all down the shores. I run after them
and pick them up with my hand, and I take my
lantern with me.
"I have caught rats these six or seven years.
When the money got to be lowered, I took to
ketching on them. One time I used to take a
dog with me, when I worked down St. John's-wood
way.
"They fetches all prices, does rats; some I get
threepence a-piece for, some twopence, some
two-pence-halfpenny—'cordin' who has 'em.
"I works on the shores, and our time to leave
off is four. I comes home and gets my tea, and
if there's sale for them, why I goes out and
ketches a few rates. When I goes out I can
ketch a dozen; but, years ago, I could ketch
two or three dozen without going so far, and
that shows there's not so many now about.
"I finds some difficulty in ketching on them.
If they gets into the drain you can't get 'em.
Where the drains lay low to the shore it's
most difficult, but where the drain is about
two feet and a-half from the shore you gets a
better chance.
"Three or four dozen I used to ketch, but I
haven't ketched any this last two or three
weeks. In this hot weather people don't like
to be in a room where 'killing' is going on;
but in the winter time a man will have his
pint of beer and see a little sport that way.
Three or four years ago I did ketch a good
many; there was a sale for 'em. I could go
and ketch two dozen in three hours, and that
sooner than I can do a dozen now. It's
varmint as wants to be destroyed.
"Rats'll turn round when they finds theirselves
beat, and sometimes fly at your hand. Sometimes
I've got bit—not very badly, though. To
tell the truth, I don't like it. When they grip,
they do holt so tight before they'll let go.
"I've been a shoreman these fifteen or sixteen
year, ever since this flushing commenced. I was
put on by the Commissioners in Hatting Garding;
but the Commissioners is all done away with
since Government took to it. I'm employed by
the parish now Every parish has to do its own
flushing.
"We cleanses away all the soil what's down
below, and keeps the shore as sweet as what we
possibly can.
"Before I took to this life I was what they
call a navvy; I used to help to make
the shores, and before that, I was in the
country at farmers' work.
"Ketching them rats ain't all profit, 'cause
you have to keep 'em and feed 'em. I've some
here, if I was to get sixpence a-piece for,
why it wouldn't pay me for their feed. I
give them barley generally, and bits of bread.
"There's a many about now ketchin' who does
nothink else, and who goes down in the shores
when they have no business there at all.
They does well by rats when they've good call
for 'em. They can go down two or three times
a-day, and ketch a dozen and a half a time;
but they can't do much now, there's no killing
going on. They takes 'em to beer-shops, and
sells 'em to the landlords, who gets their own
price for 'em if there's a pit.
"Time ago you couldn't get a rat under sixpence.
But the tax on dogs has done away wonderful
with rat-killing. London would swarm with rats
if they hadn't been ketched as they has been. I
can go along shores and only see one or two now,
sometimes see none. Times ago I've drove away
twenty or thirty afore me. Round Newport-market
I've seen a hundred together, and now I go round
there and perhaps won't ketch one.
"As for poisonin' 'em under buildings, that's
wrong; they're sure to lay there and rot, and
then they smell so. no, pisoning a'n't no good,
specially where there's many on 'em.
"I've sold Jack Black a good many. He don't
ketch so many as he gets killed. He's what
they call a rat-ketcher to her Majesty.
"When I goes rat-ketching, I generally takes
a bag with me; a trap is too much to lug about.
"Some parts of the shores I can find my way
about better than I can up above. I could get
in nigh here and come out at High Park; only
the worst of it is, you're always on the stoop.
I never heerd talk of anybody losing theirselves
in the shores, but a stranger might.
"There's some what we calls 'gully-hunters' as
goes about with a sieve, and near the gratings
find perhaps a few ha'pence. Years ago we used
to find a little now and then, but we go about
now and not find twopence in a week. I don't
think any shoreman ever finds much. But years
ago, in the city, perhaps a robbery might be
committed, and then they might be afraid of
being found out, and chuck the things down the
drains.
"I come from Oxfordshire, about four miles
from Henley-'pon-Thames. I haven't got now
quite so many clods to tramp over, nor so many
hills to climb.
"I gets two shillings a-dozen if I sells the
rats to a dealer, but if I takes 'em to the
pit myself I gets three shillings. Rats has
come down latey. There's more pits, and they
kills 'em cheaper; they used to kill 'em at
six shillings a-dozen.
"I've got five children. These here are not
all belonging to me. Their mother's gone out
a-nussing, and my wife's got to mind 'em.
"My oldest son is sixteen. He's off for a
sailor. I had him on me for two years doin'
nothink. He couldn't get a place, and
towards the last he didn't care about it.
He would go to sea; so he went to
the Marine School, and now he's in the East
Ingy Sarvice. My second is at a coal-shed.
He gets three shillings a-week; but, Lord,
what's that? He eats more than that, let
alone clothes, and he wears out such a lot
of shoe-leather. There's a good deal of
wear and tear, I can tell yer, in carrying
out the coals and such-like."
"London labour and the London poor", by
Henry Mayhew, London, 1861-1862, Vol. III, pp. 24, 25
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