Part 75
To show the nature of the songs in street demand, I cite those in the book: “The Gathering of the Nations,” “Bloom is on the Rye,” “Wilt thou Meet me there, Love?” “Minna’s Tomb,” “I’ll Love thee ever Dearly” (Arnold), “When Phœbus wakes the Rosy Hours,” “Money is your Friend,” “Julia and Caspar” (G. M. Lewis), “That pretty word, Yes” (E. Mackey), “Farewell, Forget me Not,” “The Queen and the Navy” (music published by H. White, Great Marlborough-street), “I resign Thee every Token” (music published by Duff and Co.), “Sleep, gentle Lady;” a serenade (H. J. Payne), “The Warbling Waggoner,” “The Keepsake,” “A Sequel to the Cavalier,” “There’s room enough for All” (music at Mr. Davidson’s), “Will you Come to the Dale?” “Larry O’Brian,” “Woman’s Love,” “Afloat on the Ocean” (sung by Mr. Weiss, in the Opera of the “Heart of Mid Lothian,” music published by Jefferys, Soho-square), “Together, Dearest, let us Fly” (sung by Mr. Braham, in the Opera of the “Heart of Mid Lothian,” music published by Jefferys, Soho-square), “The Peremptory Lover” (Tune--“John Anderson, my Joe”). There are forty-seven songs in addition to those whose titles I have quoted, but they are all of the same character.
The penny song-books (which are partly indecent), and entitled the “Sam Hall” and “Ross” Songsters, are seldom or never sold in the streets. Many of those vended in the shops outrage all decency. Some of these are styled the “Coal-Hole Companion,” “Cider-Cellar Songs,” “Captain Morris’s Songs,” &c. (the filthiest of all.) These are generally marked 1_s._ and sold at 6_d._; and have a coloured folded frontispiece. They are published chiefly by H. Smith, Holywell-street. The titles of some of the songs in these works are sufficient to indicate their character. “The Muff,” “The Two Miss Thys,” “George Robins’s Auction,” “The Woman that studied the Stars,” “A Rummy Chaunt” (frequently with no other title), “The Amiable Family,” “Joe Buggins’ Wedding,” “Stop the Cart,” “The Mot that can feel for another,” “The Irish Giant,” “Taylor Tim,” “The Squire and Patty.”
Some titles are unprintable.
The children’s books in best demand in the street-trade, are those which have long been popular: “Cinderella,” “Jack the Giant-killer,” “Baron Munchausen,” “Puss and the Seven-leagued Boots,” “The Sleeping Beauty,” “The Seven Champions of Christendom,” &c. &c. “There’s plenty of ‘Henry and Emmas,’” said a penny bookseller, “and ‘A Present for Christmas,’ and ‘Pictorial Alphabets,’ and ‘Good Books for Good Boys and Girls;’ but when people buys really for their children, they buys the old stories--at least they does of me. I’ve sold ‘Penny Hymns’ (hymn-books) sometimes; but when they’re bought, or ‘Good Books’ is bought, it’s from charity to a poor fellow like me, more than anything else.”
The trade, both in songs and in children’s books, is carried on in much the same way as I have described of the almanacks and memorandum-books, but occasionally the singers of ballads sell books. Sometimes poor men, old or infirm, offer them in a tone which seems a whine for charity rather than an offer for sale, “Buy a penny book of a poor old man--very hungry, very hungry.” Children do the same, and all far more frequently in the suburbs than in the busy parts of the metropolis. Those who purchase really for the sake of the books, say, one street-seller told me, “Give me something that’ll interest a child, and set him a-thinking. They can’t understand--poor little things!--your fine writing; do you understand that?” Another man had said, “Fairy tales! bring me nothing but fairies; they set children a-reading.” The price asked is most frequently a penny, but some are offered at a halfpenny, which is often given (without a purchase) out of compassion, or to be rid of importunity. The profit is at least cent. per cent.
OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF ACCOUNT-BOOKS.
The sale of account-books is in the hands of about the same class of street-sellers as the stationery, but one man in the trade thought the regular hands were more trusted, if anything, than street-stationers. “People, you see,” he said, “won’t buy their ‘accounts’ of _raff_; they won’t have them of any but respectable people.” The books sold are bought at 4_s._ the dozen, or 4-1/2_d._ a piece, up to 70_s._ the dozen, or 5_s._ 9_d._, or 6_s._ a piece. It is rarely, however, that the street account-bookseller gives 4_s._ 9_d._, and very rarely that he gives as much as 5_s._ 9_d._ for his account-books. His principal sale is of the smaller “waste,” or “day-books,” kept by the petty traders; the average price of these being 1_s._ 9_d._ The principal purchasers are the chandlers, butchers, &c., in the quieter streets, and more especially “a little way out of town, where there ain’t so many cheap shops.” A man, now a street-stationer, with a “fixed pitch,” had carried on the account-book trade until an asthmatic affliction compelled him to relinquish it, as the walking became impossible to him, and he told me that the street-trade was nothing to what it once was. “People,” he said, “aren’t so well off, I think, sir; and they’ll buy half a quire of outside foolscap, or outside post, for from 5_d._ to 8_d._, and stitch it together, and rule it, and make a book of it. Rich tradesmen do that, sir. I bought of a stationer some years back, and he told me that he was a relation of a rich grocer, and had befriended him in his (the grocer’s) youth, but he wouldn’t buy account-books, for he said, the make-shift books that his shopman stitched together for him opened so much easier. People never want a good excuse for acting shabby.”
There are now, I am informed, twelve men selling account-books daily, which they carry in a covered basket, or in a waterproof bag, or, in fine weather, under the arm. Some of these street-sellers are not itinerant when there is a congregation of people for business, or indeed for any purpose; at other times they “keep moving.” The fixed localities are, on market days, at Smithfield and Mark-lane: and to Hungerford-market, an old man, unable to “travel,” resorts daily. The chief trade, however, is in carrying, or hawking these account-books from door to door. A man, “having a connection,” does best “on a round;” if he be known, he is not distrusted, and sells as cheap, or rather cheaper, than the shop-keepers.
The twelve account-book sellers (with connections) may clear 2_s._ 6_d._ a day each, taking, for the realisation of such profit, 7_s._ per diem. Thus 1,310_l._ will be taken by these street-sellers in the course of a year. The capital required to start is, stock-money, 15_s._; basket, 3_s._ 6_d._; waterproof bag, 2_s._ 6_d._; 21_s._ in all.
OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF GUIDE-BOOKS, &C.
This trade, as regards a street-sale, has only been known for nine or ten years, and had its origination in the exertions of Mr. Hume, M.P., to secure to persons visiting the national exhibitions the advantage of a cheap catalogue. The guide-books were only sold, prior to this time, _within_ any public exhibition; and the profits--as is the case at present--were the perquisite of some official. When the sale was a monopoly, the profit must have been considerable, as the price was seldom less than 6_d._, and frequently 1_s._ The guide-books, or, as they are more frequently called, catalogues, are now sold by men who stand at the entrance, the approaches, at a little distance on the line, or at the corners of the adjacent streets, at the following places:--The National Gallery, the Vernon Gallery, the British Museum, Westminster Abbey, the House of Lords, the Society of Arts (occasionally), the Art-Union (when open “free”), Greenwich Hospital, the Dulwich Gallery, Hampton Court, Windsor Castle, and Kew Gardens.
At any temporary exhibition, also, the same trade is carried on--as it was largely when the “designs,” &c., for the decoration of the New Houses of Parliament were exhibited in Westminster Hall. There are, of course, very many other catalogues, or explanatory guides, sold to the visitors of other exhibitions, but I speak only of the _street_-sale.
There are now, at the National Gallery, three guidebook-sellers plying their trade in the streets; eight at the British Museum; two at Westminster Abbey; one at the House of Lords, but only on Saturdays, when the House is shown, by orders obtained gratuitously at the Lord Chamberlain’s office, or “when appeals are on;” one at the Vernon Gallery; two at Dulwich (but not regularly, as there are none at present), two at Hampton Court, “one near each gate;” and one, and sometimes three, at Windsor (generally sent out by a shopkeeper there). There used to be one at the Thames Tunnel, but “it grew so bad at last,” I was told, “that a rat couldn’t have picked up his grub at it--let alone a man.”
Among all these sellers I heard statements of earning a most wretched pittance, and all attributed it to the same cause. By the National Gallery is a board, on which is an announcement that the only authorized catalogue of the works of art can be obtained in the hall. There are similar announcements at other public places. One man who had been in this street trade, but had abandoned it, spoke of these “boards,” as he called them, with intense bitterness. “They’re the ruin of any trade in the streets,” he said. “You needn’t think because I’m out of it now, that I have a pleasure in abusing the regulations; no, sir, I look at it this way. Mr. Hume had trouble enough, I know, to get the public a cheap catalogue, and poor men were allowed to earn honest bread by selling them in the streets, and honest bread they would earn still, if it weren’t for the board. I declare solemnly a man can’t get a living at the trade. The publishers can’t prepare their catalogues without leave, and when they’ve got leave, and do prepare and print them, why isn’t a man allowed to sell them in the streets, as I’ve sold second editions of the _Globe_ without ever the office putting out a notice that the only authorized copy was to be had within? God bless your soul, sir, it’s shocking, shocking, poor men being hindered every way. Anybody that looks on the board looks on us as cheats and humbugs, and thinks that our catalogues are all takes-in. But I’ve heard gentlemen, that I’m sure knew what they were talking about, say, in case they’d bought in the street first, and then seen the board and bought within after, so as to be sure of the real thing--I’ve heard gentlemen, say, sir,--‘Why what we got in the street is the best after all.’ Free trade! There’s plenty said about free trade, but that board, sir, or call it what you please, gives a monopoly against us. What I have said, when I was starving on catalogues, is this: Kick us out of the streets, commit us for selling catalogues, as rogues and vagabonds; or give us a fair chance. If we _may_ sell, why is the only authorised catalogue sold only within? I wish Mr. Hume, or Mr. Cobden, either, only understood the rights of the matter--it’s of no account to me myself now--and I think they’d soon set it to rights. Free trade! Over the left, and with more hooks than one.”
I have no doubt that this representation and this opinion would have been echoed by the street catalogue-sellers, but they were evidently unwilling to converse freely on this branch of the subject, knowing the object for which I questioned them, and that publicity would follow. I attribute this reluctance chiefly to the fact that, all these poor men look forward to the opening of the Great Exhibition with earnest hope and anxiety that the influx of visiters will add greatly to their sale and profits; and they are unwilling to jeopardise their privilege of sale.
One man told me that he believed, from his own knowledge, for he had not always “sold outside,” that the largest buyers of these publications were country people, sight-seeing in London, for they bought the book not only as an explanatory guide, but to preserve as a memento of their visit. Such customers, however, I heard from several quarters, the moment they saw a “notice” as to the only authorised copy, looked upon the street-sellers as a systematised portion of the London sharpers, seeking whom they might devour, and so bought their catalogues “within.”
The best customers in the streets for the catalogues are, I am assured, the working-classes, who visit the national exhibitions on a holiday. “I’ve oft enough heard them say,” one man stated, “‘I’d rather pay a poor man 2_d._ any day, when I can spare it, than rich people 1_d._ I know what it is to fight for a crust.’”
At the National Gallery, the street-sold catalogues are 1_d._, 3_d._, and 6_d._; in the hall, the authorised copy is sold at 4_d._ and 1_s._ At the British Museum, the street-charges are 3_d._ and 6_d._; there were 1_d._ catalogues of this institution, but they have been discontinued for the last half-year, being found too meagre. At the Vernon Gallery, the charge is 1_d._; but the 6_d._ guide-book to the National Gallery contains also an account of the pictures in the Vernon Gallery. At Westminster Abbey the price is 6_d._, and the same at the House of Lords. At Hampton-court it is 2_d._, 4_d._, and 6_d._, and at the same rate as regards the other places mentioned. At Hampton-court, I was told, the street-sellers were not allowed to approach the palace nearer than a certain space. One man told me that he was threatened with being “had in for trespassing, and Mr. G---- would make him wheel a roller. Of course,” the man continued, “there’s an authorised catalogue there.”
The best sale of catalogues in the streets was at the exhibition of the works of art for the Houses of Parliament. The sellers, then--about 20 in number, among whom were four women--cleared 2_s._ and 2_s._ 6_d._ each daily. At present, I am assured, that a good week is considered one in which 5_s._ is made, but that 3_s._ is more frequently the weekly earning. It must be borne in mind, that at the two places most resorted to--the National Gallery and the British Museum--the street sale is only for four days in the week at the first mentioned, and three days at the second. “You may think that more is made,” said one man, “but it isn’t. Sweeping a good crossing is far better, far. Bless your soul, only stand a few minutes looking on, any day, and see what numbers and numbers of people pass in and out of a free admission place without ever laying out 1_d._ Why, only last Monday and Wednesday (March 17 and 19, both very rainy days) I took only 5_d._ I didn’t _take_ more than 5_d._, and I leave you to judge the living I shall _clear_ out of that; and I know that the man with the catalogue at another place, didn’t take 1_d._ It’s sad work, sir, as you stand in the wet and cold, with no dinner for yourself, and no great hope of taking one home to your family.”
These street-sellers contrive, whenever they can, to mix up other avocations with catalogue selling, as the public institutions close early. One, on every occasion, sells second editions of the newspapers; another has “odd turns at portering;” a third sells old umbrellas in the streets; some sold exhibition cards in the Park, on Sundays, until the sale was stopped; another sells a little stationery; and nearly the whole of them resort, on favourable opportunities, to the sale of “books of the play,” or of “the opera.”
Reckoning that there are regularly sixteen street-sellers of guide-books--they do not interfere with each other’s stations--and that each clears 4_s._ weekly, we find £832 expended in this street traffic. I have calculated only on the usual bookseller’s allowance of 25 per cent., though, in some instances, these sellers are supplied on lower terms--besides having, in some of the catalogues, thirteen to the dozen; but the amount specified does not exceed the mark.
The greatest number of these guide-books which I heard of as having been sold, in any one day, was four dozen, disposed of on a fine Whit-Monday, and for these the street-seller only took 6_s._ 8_d._ There are, I was informed, half as many more “threepennies” as “sixpennies” sold, and three times as many “pennies” as the other two together.
The capital required to start is what may suffice to “lay in” a stock of books--5_s._ generally.
OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF FINE ARTS.
These traders may be described as partaking more of the characteristics of the street stationers than of the “paper-workers,” as they are not patterers. The trade is less exclusively than the “paper-trade” in the hands of men. Those carrying on this branch of the street-traffic may be divided into the sellers of pictures in frames, and of engravings (of all kinds), in umbrellas. Under this head may also be ranked the street-artists (though this is a trade associated with street-life rather than forming an integrant part of it), I allude more
## particularly to the illustrated “boards” which are prepared for the
purposes of the street-patterers, and are adapted for no other use. The same artist that executes the greater portion of the street-art, also prepares the paintings which decorate the exterior of shows. There are also the writers of manuscript music, and the makers and sellers of “images” of all descriptions, but this branch of the subject I shall treat under the head of the street-Italians. Under the same curious head I shall also speak of the artists whose skill produces the street-sold medallions, in wax or plaster, they being of the same class as the “image” men. In both “images” and “casts” and “moulded” productions of all kinds the change and improvement that have taken place, from the pristine rudeness of “green parrots” is most remarkable and creditable to the taste of working people, who are the chief purchasers of the smaller articles.
OF STREET ART.
The artists who work for the street-sellers are less numerous than the poets for the same trade. Indeed, there is now but one man who can be said to be _solely_ a street-artist. The inopportune illustration of ballads of which specimens have already been given--or of any of the street papers--are the work of cheap wood-engravers, who give the execution of these orders to their boys. But it is not often that illustrations are prepared expressly for anything but what I have described as “Gallows literature.” Of these, samples have also been furnished. The one of a real murder, and the other of a fabulous one, or “cock,” together with a sample (in the case of Mr. Patrick Connor) of the portraits given in such productions. The cuts for the heading of ballads are very often such as have been used for the illustration of other works, and are “picked up cheap.”
The artist who works especially for the street trade--as in the case of the man who paints the patterers’ boards--must address his art plainly to the eye of the spectator. He must use the most striking colours, be profuse in the application of scarlet, light blue, orange--not yellow I was told, it ain’t a good candlelight colour--and must leave nothing to the imagination. Perspective and back-grounds are things of but minor consideration. Everything must be sacrificed for effect.
These paintings are in water colours, and are rubbed over with a solution of some gum-resin to protect them from the influence of rainy weather. Two of the subjects most in demand of late for the patterers’ boards were “the Sloanes” and “the Mannings.” The treatment of Jane Wilbred was “worked” by twenty boardmen, each with his “illustration” of the subject. The illustrations were in six “compartments.” In the first Mr. and Mrs. Sloane are “picking out” the girl from a line of workhouse children. She is represented as plump and healthy, but with a stupid expression of countenance. In another compartment, Sloane is beating the girl, then attenuated and wretched-looking, with a shoe, while his wife and Miss Devaux (a name I generally heard pronounced among the street-people as it is spelt to an English reader) look approvingly on. The next picture was Sloane compelling the girl to swallow filth. The fourth represented her as in the hospital, with her ribs protruding from her wasted body--“just as I’ve worked Sarah Simpole,” said a patterer, “who was confined in a cellar and fed on ’tato peels. Sarah was a cock, sir, and a ripper.” Then came the attack of the people on Sloane, one old woman dressed after the fashion of Mrs. Gamp, “prodding” him with a huge and very green umbrella. The sixth and last was, as usual, the trial.
I have described the “Sloanes’ board” first, as it may be more fresh in the remembrance of any reader observant of such things. In the “Mannings’ board” there were the same number of compartments as in the Sloanes’; showing the circumstances of the murder, the discovery of the body of Connor, the trial, &c. One standing patterer, who worked a Mannings’ board, told me that the picture of Mrs. Manning, beautifully “dressed for dinner” in black satin, with “a low front,” firing a pistol at Connor, who was “washing himself,” while Manning, in his shirt sleeves, looked on in evident alarm, was greatly admired, especially out of town. “The people said,” observed the patterer, “‘O, look at him a-washing hisself; he’s a doing it so nattral, and ain’t a-thinking he’s a-going to be murdered. But was he really so ugly as that? Lor! such a beautiful woman to have to do with him.’ You see, sir, Connor weren’t flattered, and perhaps Mrs. Manning was. I have heard the same sort of remarks both in town and country. I patters hard on the women such times, as I points them out on my board in murders or any crimes. I says: ‘When there’s mischief a woman’s always the first. Look at Mrs. Manning there on that werry board--the work of one of the first artists in London--it’s a faithful likeness, taken from life at one of her examinations, look at _her_. She fires the pistol, as you can see, and her husband was her tool.’ I said, too, that Sloane was Mrs. Sloane’s tool. It answers best, sir, in my opinion, going on that patter. The men likes it, and the women doesn’t object, for they’ll say: ‘Well, when a woman is bad, she _is_ bad, and is a disgrace to her sex.’ There’s the board before them when I runs on that line of patter, and when I appeals to the ’lustration, it seems to cooper the thing. They _must_ believe their eyes.”
When there is “a run” on any particular subject, there are occasionally jarrings--I was informed by a “boardman”--between the artist and his street-customers. The standing patterers want “something more original” than their fellows, especially if they are likely to work in the same locality, while the artist prefers a faithful copy of what he has already executed. The artist, moreover, and with all reasonableness, will say: “Why, you must have the facts. Do you want me to make Eliza Chestney killing Rush?” The matter is often compromised by some change being introduced, and by the characters being differently dressed. One man told me, that in town and country he had seen Mrs. Jermy shot in the following costumes, “in light green welwet, sky-blue satin, crimson silk, and vite muslin.” It was the same with Mrs. Manning.