London Labour and the London Poor, Vol. 3 — Context and Discussion

The Rat-Catcher's World

Mayhew's account of rat-killing is not merely sensational. He situates the trade within a specific locale—Brill-place, Somers-town—and notes that its practitioners are "for the most part sporting mechanics and costermongers," not full-time professionals. The rat-killer Jack Black appears as a named individual, a rare specificity that grounds the volume's broader claims. Mayhew describes the "rat-killing at sporting public-houses" as a public entertainment, linking vermin destruction to the leisure economy. The illustration list includes "Rat-Killing at Sporting Public-Houses" and a portrait of Black, suggesting visual documentation accompanies the text. This section exemplifies Mayhew's method: moving from a concrete street-level detail to a wider analysis of how such trades fit into London's economic ecology.

Trade Societies as Mutual Aid

In a lengthy digression on trade societies, Mayhew directly addresses public misconceptions. He argues that these organizations are not merely "combinations of working-men" for wage extortion but also provide sickness and old-age support. He cites government returns: over 33,000 such societies in England, Scotland, and Ireland, with three million members and an annual income of nearly five million pounds—more than parochial relief in 1848. Mayhew insists that "the benefits conferred by the trade and friendly societies... are participated in by every ratepayer." This statistical interlude contrasts sharply with the earlier street-level narratives, revealing Mayhew's dual role as investigator and social advocate. The excerpts show him defending the "better class of workmen" who belong to such societies against the "competitive men, or cheap workers" who do not.

The Wood-Carvers' Refinement

Near the end of the excerpts, Mayhew describes a visit to a wood-carvers' society, calling it "a hearty relief from the scenes of squalor, misery, dirt, vice, ignorance, and discontent." He praises the members' "refining character" and the society's efforts to improve design and execution. This passage is notable for its emotional register—Mayhew rarely expresses personal gratification so directly. The wood-carvers represent a counterpoint to the rat-catchers and vagrants elsewhere in the volume. Yet the catalog subjects list "Working class" and "Unemployed" without finer distinctions; Mayhew's own text insists on hierarchies within the working class, from the respectable artisan to the casual laborer. The excerpts do not reveal whether this society fits the "will work" or "cannot work" category, but the contrast underscores the volume's range.

Readers should note that Volume 3 covers only a portion of Mayhew's original project—the "street-folk" section—and that the excerpts are drawn from the beginning and end of the text. The catalog subjects ("Criminals," "Prostitution," "Charities") are not directly evidenced in these passages, which focus instead on rat-catchers, trade societies, and wood-carvers. Mayhew's voice shifts between ethnographic observer and statistical compiler; attending to these shifts helps clarify his argument about the self-sufficiency of London's working poor.

There’s something tender about how Mayhew lets the street-folk speak for themselves, their trades forming quiet networks of survival. I often think of that when I leaf through Chicago and its cess-pools of infamy — Reading Companion, where the same unchosen architecture of poverty hums beneath different paving stones. Just cousins, these books, across an ocean and a century—same ache, same dignity.