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----.
“It is quite correct, as he states, that his wife is my daughter.
They lived together several years in London; but eventually,
notwithstanding her efforts in the millinery and straw-work, they
became so reduced that their circumstances obliged my daughter to take
her two little girls with herself to us.
“This was in the summer, 1845. His wife and children have been of no
expense to Mr. N. since that time. The sole cause of their separation
was poverty.
“I consider him to have acted imprudently in giving up his situation
to depend on an income arising from a small capital; whereas, if
he had kept in a place, whilst she attended to her own business,
they might have gone on comfortably; and should they, through the
interposition of a kind Providence, gain that position again, it is
to be hoped that they will improve the circumstance to the honour and
glory of the Author of all our mercies, and with gratitude to the
instrument who may be raised up for their good.
“I am, dear Sir, respectfully yours,
“J. D.”
Other vouchers have been received, and all equally satisfactory.
OF THE STREET-SALE OF MEMORANDUM-BOOKS AND ALMANACKS.
The memorandum-books in demand in street-sale are used for weekly
“rent-books.” The payment of the rent is entered by the landlord, and
the production of one of these books, showing a punctuality of payment,
perhaps for years, is one of the best “references” that can be given
by any one in search of a new lodging. They are bought also for the
entrance of orders, and then of prices, in the trade at chandler’s
shops, &c., where weekly or monthly accounts are run. All, or nearly
all, the street-stationers sell memorandum-books, and in addition to
them, there may be, I am told, sometimes as many as fifty poor persons,
including women and children, who sell memorandum-books with other
trifling articles, not necessarily stationery, but such things as
stay-laces or tapes. If a man sell memorandum-books alone it is because
his means limit him to that stock, he being at the time, what I heard a
patterer describe as, a “dry-bread cove.” The price is 6_d._ the dozen,
or 9_d._ (with almanacks pasted inside the cover), and thirteen to the
dozen. No more than 1_d._ is obtained in the streets for any kind of
memorandum-books.
The almanack street trade, I heard on all hands, had become a mere
nothing. “What else can you expect, sir,” said one street-seller,
“when so many publicans sends almanacks round, or gives them away to
their customers; and when the slop tailors’ shilling-a-day men thrust
one into people’s hands at every corner? It was a capital trade once,
before the duty was taken off--capital! The duty wasn’t in our way so
much as in the shop-keepers’, though _they_ did a good deal on the sly
in unstamped almanacks. Why of a night in October I’ve many a time
cleared 5_s._ and more by selling in the public-houses almanacks at
2_d._ and 3_d._ a-piece (they cost me 1_s._ and 1_s._ 2_d._ a dozen
at that time). Anything that way, when Government’s done, has a ready
sale; people enjoys it; and I suppose no man, as ever was, thinks it
much harm to do a tax-gatherer! I don’t pay the income-tax myself
(laughing). One evening I sold, just by Blackfriars-bridge, fourteen
dozen of diamond almanacks to fit into hat-crowns. I was liable, in
course, and ran a risk. I sold them mostly at 1_d._ a piece, but
sometimes got 6_d._ for three. I cleared between 6_s._ and 7_s._ The
‘diamonds’ cost me 8_d._ a dozen.”
The street almanack trade is now carried on by the same parties as I
have specified in my account of memorandum-books. Those sold are of any
cheap kind, costing wholesale 6_d._ a dozen, but they are almost always
announced as “Moore’s.”
OF THE STREET-SALE OF POCKET-BOOKS AND DIARIES.