We tend to ignore those who look after our comfort every day.
Employees who clean up our office, our homes – they are almost never noticeable, remain in the shadows, and the order imposed by them seems to appear by itself.
So are the chimney sweeps, whose work is still essential in England.
They appear in the night, those mysterious people of an ancient profession.
It is one of the most respected professions in England, for, even though the central heating system appeared a long time ago and made life much easier, there are a lot of old houses in need of such care.
Initially, the chimney sweeps in England were children. Who else can get into a narrow chimney except for a small kid?
That said, the chimney sweeps were children about four years old, who were often abducted for this work and poorly fed so that they would not gain weight.
During that time, no one knew about the consequences. However, these children often fell ill with cancer due to constant contact with soot.
Only every Sunday, May 1, could they take a break from their hard work and spend time the way they wanted – having fun, playing – living their childhood.
Since then, people celebrate this event on May 1. Chimney sweeps are treated with respect and care, not because only their labour was hard. It is also for children who were forced to do it.
Elizabeth Montagu was one of those who stood up for the climbing boys’ rights, along with Jonas Hanway, who campaigned against it in the 18th century.
Liberation from difficult working conditions was not easy for children. For many years there were court proceedings, and in 1856 The Climbing Boy’s Advocate was published, which opened with a verse by James Montgomery:
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Who loves the Climbing Boy? Who cares
If well or ill I be?
Is there a living soul that shares
A thought or wish with me?
Yet not for wealth and ease I sigh,
All are not rich and great;
Many may be as poor as I,
But none so desolate.
William Blake had also written a poem dedicated to those kids, and here’s a sample:
Songs of Innocence. The Chimney Sweeper
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry “weep! ‘weep! ‘weep!’
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
The sad story behind this festival teaches us to care, be emphatic, and be thankful for the hard labour that some of us do.
So, how is this celebrated? It’s a lot there to tell.
‘the ludicrous caperings of the sooty tribe, who fantastically attire themselves on such occasions, with their faces smeared with brick-dust, by way of paint, and with gilt and colored paper ornaments in profusion’ (Sussex Advertiser 14 May 1827)
There is a reason for this day to be celebrated in Rochester. Here is one of the oldest castles with the tallest chimney, which is itself a symbol. For four hundred years, Rochester had been celebrating this day until the festival was closed. However, an English businessman who honoured English traditions had not let the traditional holiday, which has become part of the culture, sink into oblivion.
In 1981, the day became Chimney Sweeps’ Day again.
Every year the folk gather in a huge procession. Everyone is dressed in obnoxious costumes, often deliberately smeared with soot on their faces and clothes.
People gather together and play musical instruments, sing, and it is all leads to local pubs where they drink till morning.
