Part 67
The stationery is purchased, for the most part, in Budge-row and Drury-lane. The half-quires (sold at 1_d._) contain, generally, 10 sheets; if the paper, however, be of superior quality, only 8 sheets. In the paper-warehouses it is known as “outsides,” with no more than 10 sheets to the half quire, the price varying from 4_s._ to 6_s._ the ream (20 quires); or, if bought by weight, from 7_d._ to 9_d._ the pound. The envelopes are sold (wholesale) at from 6_d._ to 15_d._ the dozen; the higher-priced being adhesive, and with impressions--now, generally, the Crystal Palace--on the place of the seal. The commoner are retailed in the streets at 12, and the better at 6, a penny. Sometimes “a job-lot,” soiled, is picked up by the street-stationer at 4_d._ a pound. The sealing, a pound, retailed at 1/2_d._ each; the “flat” wax, however, is 1_s._ 4_d._ per lb., containing from 30 to 36 sticks, retailed at 1_d._ each. Wafers (at the same swag shops) are 3_d._ or 4_d._ the lb.--in small boxes, 9_d._ the gross; ink, 4-1/2_d._ or 5_d._ the dozen bottles; pencils, 7_d._ to 8_s._ a gross; and steel pens from 4_d._ (waste) to 3_s._ a gross; but the street-stationers do not go beyond 2_s._ the gross, which is for magnum bonums.
[12] I may here observe that I have rarely heard tradesmen dealing in the same wares as street-sellers, described by those street-sellers by any other term than that of “shopkeepers.”
OF THE EXPERIENCE OF A STREET-STATIONER.
A middle-aged man gave me the following account. He had pursued the trade for upwards of twelve years. He was a stout, cosey-looking man, wearing a loose great coat. The back of his tray rested against his double-breasted waistcoat; the pattern of which had become rather indistinct, but which was buttoned tightly up to his chin, as if to atone for the looseness of his coat. The corner of his mouth, toward his left ear, was slightly drawn down, for he seemed in “crying” to pitch his voice (so that it could be heard a street off) out of the corner of his only partially-opened mouth.
“Middlin’, sir,” he said, “times is middlin’ with me; they might be better, but then they might be worse. I can manage to live. The times is changed since I was first in the business. There wasn’t no ’velops (envelopes) then, and no note-paper--least I had none; but I made as good or a better living than I do now; a better indeed. When the penny-postage came in--I don’t mind the year, but I hadn’t been long in the trade [it was in 1840]--I cried some of the postage ’velops. They was big, figured things at first, with elephants and such like on them, and I called them at prime cost, if anything was bought with ’em. The very first time, a p’liceman says, ‘You mustn’t sell them covers. What authority have you to do it?’ ‘Why, the authority to earn a dinner,’ says I; but it was no go. Another peeler came up and said I wasn’t to cry them again, or he’d have me up; and so that spec. came to nothing. I sell to ladies and gentlemen, and to servant-maids, and mechanics, and their wives; and indeed all sorts of people. Some fine ladies, that call me to the door on the sly, do behave very shabby. Why, there was one who wanted five half-quire of note for 4_d._, and I told her I couldn’t afford it, and so she said ‘that she knew the world, and never gave nobody the price they first asked.’ ‘If that’s it, ma’am,’ says I, ‘people that knows your plan can ’commodate you.’ That knowing card of a lady, sir, as she reckons herself, had as much velvet to her body--such a gown!--as would pay _my_ tailor’s bills for twenty year. But I don’t employ a fashionable tailor, and can patch a bit myself, as I was two years with a saddler, and was set to work to make girths and horse-clothes. My master died, and all went wrong, and I had to turn out, without nobody to help me,--for I had no parents living; but I was a strong young fellow of sixteen. I first tried to sell a few pairs of girths, and a roller or two, to livery-stable keepers, and horse-dealers, and job-masters. But I was next to starving. They wouldn’t look at anything but what was good, and the stuff was too high, and the profit too little--for I couldn’t get regular prices, in course--and so I dropped it. There’s no men in the world so particular about good things as them as is about vallyable horses. I’ve often thought if rich people cared half as much about poor men’s togs, that was working for them for next to nothing, as they cared for their horse-clothes, it would be a better world. I was dead beat at last; but I went down to Epsom and sold a few race-cards. I’d borrowed 1_s._ of a groom to start with, and he wouldn’t take it back when I offered it; and that wax is bought at general warehouses, known as “swag shops” (of which I may speak hereafter), at 8_d._ the pound, there being 48 round sticks in, was my beginning in the paper trade. I felt queer at first, and queerer when I wasn’t among horses, as at the races like--but one get’s reconciled to anything, ’cept, to a man like me, a low lodging-house. A stable’s a palace to it. I got into stationery at last, and it’s respectable.
“I’ve heard people say how well they could read and write, and it was no good to them. It has been, and is still, a few pence to me; though I can only read and write middlin’. I write notes and letters for some as buys paper of me. Never anything in the beggin’ way--never. It wouldn’t do to have my name mixed up that way. I’ve often got extra pennies for directing and doing up valentines in nice ’velops. Why, I spoke to a servant girl the other day; she was at the door, and says I, ‘Any nice paper to-day, to answer your young man’s last love-letter, or to write home and ask your mother’s consent to your being wed next Monday week?’ That’s the way to get them to listen, sir. Well, I finds that she can’t write, and so I offers to do it for a pint of beer, and she to pay for paper of course. And then there was so many orders what to say. Her love to no end of aunts, and all sorts of messages and inquiries about all sorts of things; and when I’d heard enough to fill a long ‘letter’ sheet, she calls me back and says, ‘I’m afraid I’ve forgot uncle Thomas.’ I makes it all short enough in the letter, sir. ‘My kind love to all inquiring friends,’ takes in all uncle Thomases. I writes them when I gets a bite of dinner. Sometimes I posts them, if I’m paid beforehand; at other times I leaves them next time I pass the door. There’s no mystery made about it. If a missus says, ‘What’s that?’ I’ve heard a girl answer, ‘It’s a letter I’ve got written home, ma’am. I haven’t time myself,’ or ‘I’m no scholar, ma’am.’ But that’s only where I’m known. I don’t write one a week the year round--perhaps forty in a year. I charge 1_d._ or 2_d._, or if it’s a very poor body, and no gammon about it, nothing. Well, then, I think I never wrote a love-letter. Women does that one for another, I think, when the young housemaid can’t write as well as she can talk. I jokes some as I knows, and says I writes all sorts of letters but love-letters, and for them, you see, says I, there’s wanted the best gilt edge, and a fancy ’velop, and a Dictionary. I take more for note and ’velops than anything else, but far the most for note. Some has a sheet folded and fitted into a ’velop when they buys, as they can’t fit it so well theirselves, they say. Perhaps I make 2_s._ a day, take it all round. Some days I may make as much as 3_s._ 6_d._; at others, ’specially wet days, not 1_s._ But I call mine a tidy round, and better than an average. I’ve only myself, and pays 1_s._ 9_d._ a week for a tidy room, with a few of my own sticks in it. I buy sometimes in Budge-row, and sometimes in Drury-lane. Very seldom at a swag-shop (Birmingham house), for I don’t like them.
“Well, now, I’ve heard, sir, that poor men like me ain’t to be allowed to sell anything in the Park at the Great Exhibition. How’s that, sir?” I told him I could give no information on the subject.
“It’s likely enough to be true,” he resumed; “the nobs’ll want to keep it all to theirselves. I read _Lloyd’s Weekly Newspaper_ on a Sunday, and what murders and robberies there is now! What will there be when the Great Exhibition opens! for rogues is worst in a crowd, and they say they’ll be plenty come to London from all arts and parts? Never mind; if I can see anything better to do in a fair way at the Exhibition, I’ll cut the streets.
“Perhaps my earnings is half from working people and half from private houses; that’s about it. But working people’s easiest satisfied.”
I have given this man’s statement more fully than I should have thought necessary, that I might include his account of letter-writing. The letter-writer was at one period a regular street-labourer in London, as he is now in some continental cities--Naples, for instance. The vocation in London seems in some respects to have fallen into the hands of the street-stationer, but the majority of letters written for the uneducated--and their letter-receiving or answering is seldom arduous--is done, I believe, by those who are rather vaguely but emphatically described as--“friends.”
I am told that there are 120 street-stationers in London, a small majority of whom may be itinerant, but chiefly on regular rounds. On a Sunday morning, in such places as the Brill, are two or three men, but not regularly, who sell stationery only on Sunday mornings. Taking the number, however, at 120, I am assured that their average profits may be taken at 8_s._ weekly, each stationer. On note-paper of the best sort the profit is sometimes only 50 per cent.; but, take the trade altogether, we may calculate it at cent. per cent. (on some things it is higher); and we find 4,992_l._ yearly expended in street-stationery.
OF A “REDUCED” GENTLEWOMAN, AND A “REDUCED” TRADESMAN, AS STREET-SELLERS OF STATIONERY.
I now give two statements, which show the correctness of my conclusion, that among the street-stationers were persons of education who had known prosperity, and that, as a body, those engaged in this traffic were a better class than the mass of the “paper-workers.” They are also here cited as illustrations of the causes which lead, or rather force, many to a street-life.
The first statement is that of a lady:--
“My father,” she said, “was an officer in the army, and related to the Pitt family. After his death, I supported myself by teaching music. I was considered very talented by my profession, both as teacher and composer.” (I may here interrupt the course of the narrative by saying, that I myself have had printed proofs of the lady’s talents in this branch of art.) “A few years ago, a painful and protracted illness totally incapacitated me from following my profession; consequently, I became reduced to a state of great destitution. For many weeks I remained ill in my own room. I often, during that time, went without nourishment the day through. I might have gone into an hospital; but I seemed to dread it so much, that it was not until I was obliged to give up my room that I could make up my mind to enter one. From that time, until within a few weeks ago, I have been an inmate of several hospitals: the last I was in was the Convalescent Establishment at Carshalton. On my coming to London, I found I had to begin the world again, as it were, in a very different manner from what I have been accustomed to. I had no head to teach--I felt that; and what to do I hardly knew. I had no home to go to, and not a halfpenny in the world. I had heard of the House of Charity, in Soho-square, and, as a last resource, I went there; but before I could have courage to ask admittance, I got a woman to go in and see what kind of a place it was--I seemed to fear it so much. I met with great kindness there, however; and, by the time I left, the care they had bestowed upon me had restored my health in a measure, but not my head. The doctors advised me to get some out-door occupation (I am always better in the open air); but what to do I could not tell. At last I thought of a man I had known, who made fancy envelopes. I went to him, and asked him to allow me to go round to a few houses with some of them for a small per centage. This he did, and I am thereby enabled, by going along the streets and calling to offer my envelopes at any likely house, just to live. None but those who have suffered misfortunes (as I have done) can tell what my feelings were on first going to a house. I _could_ not go where I was known; I had not the courage, nor would my pride allow me. My pupils had been very kind to me during my illnesses, but I could not bear the idea of going to them and offering articles for sale.
“My fear of strangers is so great, that I tremble when I knock at a door--lest I should meet with an angry word. How few have any idea of the privations and suffering that have been endured before a woman (brought up as I have been) can make up her mind to do as I am obliged to do! I am now endeavouring to raise a little money to take a room, and carry on the envelope business myself. I might do pretty well, I think; and, should my head get better, in time I might get pupils again. At present I could not teach, the distressed state of my mind would not allow me.”
* * * * *
The tradesman’s statement he forwarded to me in writing, supplying me with every facility to test the full accuracy of his assertions, which it is right I should add I have done, and found all as he has stated. I give the narrative in the writer’s words (and his narrative will be found at once diffuse and minute), as a faithful representation of a “reduced” tradesman’s struggles, thoughts, and endurances, before being forced into the streets.
“I was brought up,” he writes, “as a linen-draper. After filling every situation as an assistant, both in the wholesale and retail trade, I was for a considerable time in business. Endeavouring to save another from ruin, I advanced what little money I had at my banker’s, and became security for more, as I thought I saw my way clear. But a bond of judgment was hanging over the concern (kept back from me of course) and the result was, I lost my money to the amount of some hundreds, of which I have not recovered one pound. Since that time I have endeavoured to gain a livelihood as a town traveller. In 1845 I became very much afflicted, and the affliction continued the greater part of the following year. At one time I had fifteen wounds on my body, and lost the use of one side. I was reduced by bodily disease, as well as in circumstances. My wife went to reside among her friends, and I, after my being an out-patient of Bartholomew’s Hospital went, through necessity, to Clerkenwell Workhouse. When recovered, I made another effort to do something among my own trade, and thought, after about two years struggle, I should recover in a measure my position. In August, 1849, I sent for a few shillings-worth of light articles from London (being then at Dunstable). I received them, and sold one small part; I went the following day to the next village nearer London. There I had a violent attack of cholera; which once more defeated my plans, leaving me in a weak condition. I was obliged to seek the refuge of my parish, and consider that very harshly was I treated there. They refused me admittance, and suffered me to walk the street two days and two nights. I had no use of my arm, was ill and disabled. About half-past seven on the third night, a gentleman, hearing of my sufferings, knocked at the door of the Union, took me inside, and dared them to turn me thence. This was in October, 1849. I lay on my bed there for seven weeks nearly, and a few days before Christmas-day the parish authorities brought me before the Board, and turned me out, with one shilling and a loaf; one of the overseers telling me to go to h--ll and lodge anywhere. I came to lodge at the Model Lodging-house, King-street, Drury-lane; but being winter-time they were full. Although I remained there in the day-time, I was obliged to sleep at another house. At this domicile I saw how many ways there were of getting what the very poor call a living, and various suggestions were offered. I was promised a gift of 2_s._ 6_d._ by an individual, on a certain day,--but I had to live till that day, and many were the feelings of my mind, how to dispose of what might remain when I received the 2_s._ 6_d._, as I was getting a little into debt. My debt, when paid, left me but 9-1/2_d._ out of the 2_s._ 6_d._ to trade with. I had never hawked an article before that time; to stand the streets was terrible to my mind, and how to invest this small sum sadly perplexed me. My mind was racked by painful anxiety; one moment almost desponding, the next finding so much sterling value in a shilling, that I saw in it the means of rescuing me from my degradation. Wanting many of the necessaries of life, but without suitable attire for my own business, and still weak from illness, I made up my mind. On the afternoon of 2nd Jan., 1850, I purchased 1-1/2 doz. memorandum-books, of a stationer in Clerkenwell, telling him my capital. I obtained the name of ‘Ninepence-halfpenny Man’ (the amount of my funds) at that shop. The next step was how to dispose of my books. I thought I would go round to some coffee and public-houses, as I could not endure the streets. I went into one, where I was formerly known, and sold 6_d._-worth, and meeting a person who was once in my own line, at another house, I sold 4_d._-worth more. The first night, therefore, I got over well. The next day I did a little, but not so well, and I found out that what I had bought was not the most ready sale. My returns that week were only 6_s._ 2_d._ I found I must have something different,--one thing would not do alone; so I bought a few childrens’ books and almanacks--sometimes going to market with as little as seven farthings. I could not rise to anything better in the way of provisions during this time than dry toast and coffee, as the rent must be looked to. I struggled on, hoping against hope. At one period I had a cold and lost my voice. Two or three wet days in a week made me a bankrupt. If I denied myself food, to increase my stock, and went out for a day or two to some near town, I found that with small stock and small returns I could not stem the tide.
“I always avoided associating with any but those a step higher in the grades of society--a circumstance that caused me not to know as much of the market for my cheap articles as I might have done. I am perhaps looked on as rather an ‘aristocrat,’ as I am not often seen by the street-sellers at a stand. My difficulties have been of no ordinary kind; with a desire for more domestic comfort on one hand, and painful reflections from want of means on the other, I have had to call to my aid all the philosophy I possess, to keep up a proper equilibrium, lest I should be tempted to anything derogatory or dishonest. I am desirous of a rescue at the only time likely for it to take place with advantage, as I am persuaded when persons continue long in a course that endangers their principles and self-respect, a rescue becomes hopeless. Should I have one small start with health, the privations I have undergone show not what comforts I have had, or may hope ever to have, but what I can absolutely do without.
“I found the first six months not quite so good as the latter; March and May being the worst. The entire amount taken from January 2nd to December 31st, 1850; was 28_l._ 10_s._ 6_d._,--an average of about 11_s._ 4_d._ a week; say for cost of goods, 6_s._ per week; and rent, 1_s._ 9_d._; leaving me but 3_s._ 7_d._ clear for living. This statement, sir, is strictly correct, as I do not get cent. per cent. on all the articles; and yet with so small a return I am not behind one single crown at the present time.
“On New Year’s-day last, I had but the cost price of stock, 5_d._ Up to the evening of February 10th, I have taken 2_l._ 19_s._ 8_d._;--having paid for goods, 1_l._ 10_s._ 5_d._; and for rent, 8_s._ 10_d._: leaving me 1_l._ 5_d._ to exist on during nearly six weeks. These facts and figures show that without a little assistance it is impossible to rise; and remember this circumstance--I have had to walk on some occasions as much as twenty or twenty-two miles in a day. If those whom Providence has blessed with a little more than their daily wants would only enter into the conflicts of the really reduced person, they would not be half so niggardly in spending a few coppers for useful articles, at least, nor overbearing in their requirements as to bulk, when purchasing of the itinerant vendor. Did they but reflect that they themselves might be in the same condition, or some of their families, I am sure they would not act as they do; for I would venture to say that the common street beggar does not get more rebuffs or insults than the educated and unfortunate reduced tradesmen in the streets. The past year has been one of the most trying and painful, yet I hope instructive, periods of my existence, and one of which I trust I never shall see the like again.”
I subjoin one of the testimonies that have been furnished me, as to this man’s character, and which I thought it right to procure before giving publicity to the above statement. It is from a minister of the gospel--the street-seller’s father-in-law.
“DEAR SIR,--I received a letter, last Tuesday, from Mr. Knight, intimating that he was requested by you to inquire into the character of Mr. J---- N----.