London Labour and the London Poor – 1852

Henry Mayhew

Scavengers and Cleaners Of the Mudlarks

There is another class who may be termed river-finders, although their occupation is connected only with the shore; they are commonly known only by the name of ‘mud-larks’ from being compelled to gain the articles they seek, to wade sometimes up to their middle through the mud left on the shore by the retiring tide. These poor creatures are certainly about the most deplorable in their appearance of any I have met with in the course of my inquiries. They may be seen of all ages from mere childhood to positive decrepitude, crawling among the barges at the various wharfs along the river; it cannot be said that they are clad in rags, for they are scarcely half covered by the tattered indescribable things that serve them for clothing; their bodies are grimed with the foul soil of the river, and their torn garments stiffened up like boards with dirt of every possible description.

Among the mudlarks may be seen many old women, and it is indeed pitiable to behold them, especially during the winter, bent nearly double with age and infirmity, paddling and groping among the wet mud for small pieces of coal, chips of wood, or any sort of refuse washed by the tide. These women always have with them an old basket or an old tin kettle, in which they put whatever they chance to find. It usually takes them a whole tide to fill this receptacle, but when filled, it is as much as the feeble old creatures are able to carry home.

The mudlarks generally live in some sort of court or alley in the neighbourhood of the river, and, as the tide recedes, crowds of boys and little girls, some old men, and many old women, may be observed loitering about the various stairs, watching eagerly for the opportunity to commence their labours. When the tide is sufficiently low they scatter themselves along the shore, separating from each other, and soon disappear among the craft lying about in every direction. This is the case on both sides of the river, as high up as there is anything to be found. extending as far as Vauxhall- bridge, and as low down as Woolwich. The mudlarks themselves however know only those who reside near them, and whom they are accustomed to meet in their daily pursuits; indeed these people are dull and apparently stupid; this is observable particularly among the boys and girls, who, when engaged in searching the mud hold but little converse with one another. The men and women may be passed and repassed, but they notice no one; they never speak, but with a stolid look of wretchedness they plash their way through the mire, their bodies bent down while they peer anxiously about, and occasionally stoop to pick up some paltry treasure that falls in their way.

The mudlarks collect whatever they happen to find, such as coals, bits of old iron, rope, bones and copper nails that drop from ships while lying or repairing along shore. Copper nails are the most valuable of all the articles that they find, but these they seldom obtain, and they are always driven from the neighbourhood of a ship while being ne-sheathed. Sometimes the younger and bolder mudlarks venture on sweeping some empty coal barge and one little fellow with whom I spoke, having been lately caught in the act of so doing, had to undergo for the offence seven days’ imprisonment in the House of Correction; this, he says, he liked much better than mudlarking, for while he staid there he wore coat and shoes an stockings, and though he had not overmuch to eat he was certainly never afraid of going to bed without anything at all – as he often had to do when at liberty. He thought he would try it on again in the winter, he told me, saying, it would be so comfortable to have clothes and shoes and stockings then and not be obliged to go into the cold wet mud of a morning.

The boys after leaving the river sometimes scrape their trousers and frequent the cab-stands and try to earn a trifle by opening the cab doors for those who enter them or by holding gentlemen’s horses. Some of them go in the evening to a ragged school of the neighbourhood in which they live; more as they say, because other boys go there than as a desire to learn.

At one of the stairs in the neighbourhood of the pool, I collected about a dozen of these unfortunate children; there was not one of them over twelve years of age, of many of them were but six. It would be almost impossible to describe the wretched group, so motley was their appearance, so extraordinary their dress, and so stolid and inexpressive their countenances. Some carried baskets filled with the produce of their morning’s work, and others old tin kettles with iron handles. Some, for want of these articles, had old hats filled with the bones and coals they had picked up; and others, more needy still, had actually taken the caps from their own heads and filled them with what they had happened to find. The muddy slush was dripping from their clothes and utensils, and forming a puddle in which they stood. There did not appear to be among the whole group as many filthy cotton rags to their backs as, when stitched together would have been sufficient to form the material of one shirt. There were remnants of one or two jackets among them but so begrimed and tattered that it would have been difficult to have determined either the original material or make of the garment. On questioning one he said that his father was a coal-backer; he had been dead eight years; the boy was nine years old. His mother was alive; she went out charing and washing when she could get any such work to do. She has a shilling a day when she could get employment but that a not often; he remembered once to have a pair of shoes, but it was a long time since. ‘It is very cold in winter,’ he said, to stand in the mud without shoes,’ but he did not mind it in summer. He had been three years mudlarking and supposed he should remain a mudlark all his life. What else could he be? For there was nothing else that he knew how to do.

He could neither read nor write and did not think he could learn if he tried ‘ever so much. ’ He didn’t know what religion his mother and father were nor did he know what religion meant. God was God he said. He had heard he was good but didn’t know what good he was to him.