publications, in the book or pamphlet form, are common enough. In
some I have seen, the title-page is a history in little. I cite one
of these:--“_Founded on Facts. The Whitby Tragedy; or, the Gambler’s
Fate. Containing the Lives of Joseph Carr, aged 21, and his sweetheart,
Maria Leslie, aged 19, who were found Dead, lying by each other, on
the morning of the 23rd of May. Maria was on her road to Town to buy
some Ribbon, &c., for her Wedding Day, when her lover in a state of
intoxication fired at her, and then run to rob his prey, but finding it
to be his Sweetheart, reloaded his Gun, placed the Muzzle to his Mouth,
and blew out his Brains, all through cursed Cards, Drink, &c. Also, an
affectionate Copy of Verses._”
To show the extent of the trade in execution broad-sheets, I obtained
returns of the number of copies relating to the principal executions of
late, that had been sold:
Of Rush 2,500,000 copies.
„ the Mannings 2,500,000 „
„ Courvoisier 1,666,000 „
„ Good 1,650,000 „
„ Corder 1,650,000 „
„ Greenacre 1,666,000 „
Of Thurtell I could obtain no accounts--“it was so long ago;” but the
sale, I was told, was enormous. Reckoning that each copy was sold for
1_d._ (the regular price in the country, where the great sale is,) the
money expended for such things amounts to upwards of 48,500_l._ in the
case of the six murderers above given. All this number was printed and
got up in London; a few “broad-sheets” concerning Rush were printed
also in Norwich.
Touching the issue of “cocks,” a person connected with the trade
calculated for me, from data at his command, that 3,456 copies were
struck off weekly, and sold in the streets, in the metropolis; and
reckoning them at only a 1/2_d._ each, we have the sum of 7_l._ 4_s._
spent every week in this manner. At this rate, there must be 179,712
copies of “cocks” printed in a year, on which the public expend no less
than 374_l._ 8_s._
Of the style of illustrations usually accompanying this class of street
literature the two large engravings here given are _fac similes_--while
the smaller ones are faithful copies of the average embellishments to
the halfpenny ballads. On another occasion I shall speak at length on
“Street-Art.”
OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF CONUNDRUMS.
Among the more modern street sales are “conundrums,” generally vended,
both in the shops and the streets, as “Nuts to Crack,” when not in
the form of books. This is another of the “broad-sheets,” and is
sufficiently clever and curious in its way.
In the centre, at the top, is the “Wonderful Picture,” with the
following description: “This Picture when looked at from a particular
point of view, will not only appear perfect in all respects and free
from distortion, but the figures will actually appear to stand out
in relief from the paper.” The wonderful picture, which is a rude
imitation of a similar toy picture sold in a box, “with eye-piece
complete,” at the shops, presents a distorted view of a church-spire, a
light-house, a donjon-keep, castellated buildings backed by mountains,
a moat on which are two vessels, an arch surmounted by a Britannia,
a palm-tree (I presume), and a rampart, or pier, or something
that way, on which are depicted two figures, with the gestures of
elocutionists. The buildings are elongated, like shadows at sunset or
sunrise. What may be the “particular point of view” announced in the
description of the Wonderful Picture, is not described in the “Nuts,”
but the following explanation is given in a little book, published
simultaneously, and entitled, “The Nutcrackers, a Key to Nuts to Crack,
or Enigmatical Repository:”
“THE WONDERFUL PICTURE.--Cut out a piece of cardboard 2-1/2 inches
long, make a round hole about the size of a pea in the top of it;
place this level with the right-hand side of the Engraving and just
1-1/2 inches distant from it, then apply your eye to the little hole
and look at the picture, and you will find that a beautiful symmetry
pervades the landscape, there is not the slightest appearance of
distortion, and the different parts appear actually to stand up in
relief on the paper.”
Below the “Wonderful Picture” are other illustrations; and the border
of the broad-sheet presents a series of what may be called pictorial
engravings. The first is,
[Illustration:
D I O
C C
1.--Lately presented to a “Wise man” by a usurper.]
The answer being evidently “Diocese.” No. 26 is
[Illustration:
|----------
A 4
26.--The Child’s “Tidy.”]
“Pinafore” is the solution. Of the next “hieroglyphic”--for a second
title to the “Nuts” tells of “200 Hieroglyphics, Enigmas, Conundrums,
Curious Puzzles, and other Ingenious Devices,”--I cannot speak very
highly. It consists of “AIMER,” (a figure of a hare at full speed,) and
“EKA.” Answer.--“America.”
In the body of the broad-sheet are the Enigmas, &c., announced; of
each of which I give a specimen, to show the nature of this street
performance or entertainment. Enigma 107 is--
“I’ve got no wings, yet in the air
I often rise and fall;
I’ve got no feet, yet clogs I wear,
And shoes, and boots, and all.”
As the answer is foot-ball, the two last lines should manifestly have
been placed first.
The “Conundrums” are next in the arrangement, and I cite one of them:
“Why are there, strictly speaking, only 325 days in the year?”
“Because,” is the reply, “forty of them are lent and never returned.”
The “Riddles” follow in this portion of the “Nuts to Crack.” Of these,
one is not very difficult to be solved, though it is distinguished for
the usual grammatical confusion of tenses:
“A man has three daughters, and each of these have a brother. How many
children had he?”
The “Charades” complete the series. Of these I select one of the best:
“I am a word of letters seven,
I’m sinful in the sight of heaven,
To every virtue I’m opposed,
Man’s weary life I’ve often closed.
If to me you prefix two letters more,
I mean exactly what I meant before.”
The other parts of the letter-press consist of “Anagrams,”
“Transpositions,” &c.
When a clever patterer “works conundrums”--for the trade is in the
hands of the pattering class--he selects what he may consider the best,
and reads or repeats them in the street, sometimes with and sometimes
without the answer. But he does not cripple the probable quickness of
his sale by a slavish adherence to what is in type. He puts the matter,
as it were, personally. “What gentleman is it,” one man told me he
would ask, “in this street, that has--
‘Eyes like saucers, a back like a box,
A nose like a pen-knife, and a voice like a fox?’
You can learn for a penny. Or sometimes I’ll go on with the patter,
thus,” he continued, “What lady is it that we have all seen, and who
can say truly--
‘I am brighter than day, I am swifter than light,
And stronger than all the momentum of might?’
More than once people have sung out ‘the Queen,’ for they seem to think
that the momentum of might couldn’t fit any one else. It’s ‘thought’ as
is the answer, but it wouldn’t do to let people think it’s anything of
the sort. It must seem to fit _somebody_. If I see a tailor’s name on a
door, as soon as I’ve passed the corner of the street, and sometimes in
the same street, I’ve asked--
‘Why is Mr. So-and-so, the busy tailor of this (or the next street)
never at home?’
‘Because he’s always cutting out.’ I have the same questions for other
tradesmen, and for gentlemen and ladies in this neighbourhood, and no
gammon. All for a penny. Nuts to Crack, a penny. A pair of Nutcrackers
to crack ’em, only one penny.”
Sometimes this man, who perhaps is the smartest in the trade, will
take a bolder flight still, and when he knows the residence of any
professional or public man, he will, if the allusion be complimentary,
announce his name, or--if there be any satire--indicate by a motion of
the head, or a gesture of the hand, the direction of his residence. My
ingenuous, and certainly ingenious, informant obliged me with a few
instances:--“In Whitechapel parish I’ve said--it ain’t in the print, it
was only in the patter--‘Why won’t the Reverend Mr. Champneys lay up
treasures on earth?’--‘Because he’d rather lay up treasures in heaven.’
That’s the reverend gentleman not far from this spot; but in this
sheet--with nearly 100 engravings by the first artists, only a penny--I
have other questions for other parsons, not so easy answered; nuts as
is hard to crack. ‘Why is the Reverend Mr. Popjoy,’ or the Honourable
Lawyer Bully, or Judge Wiggem,--and then I just jerks my thumb, sir,
if it’s where I know or think such people live--‘Why is the Reverend
Mr. Popjoy (or the others) like _two_ balloons, one in the air to the
east, and the ’tother in the air to the west, in this parish of St.
George’s, Hanover-square?’ There’s no such question, and as it’s a
sort of a ‘cock,’ of course there’s no answer. I don’t know one. But a
gentleman’s servant once sung out: ‘’Cause he’s uppish.’ And a man in a
leather apron once said: ‘He’s a raising the wind,’ which was nonsense.
But I like that sort of interruption, and have said--‘You’ll not find
_that_ answer in the Nutcrackers,’ only a penny--and, Lord knows, I
told the truth when I said so, and it helps the sale. No fear of any
one’s finding out all what’s in the sheet before I’m out of the ‘drag.’
Not a bit. And you must admit that any way it’s a cheap pennorth.” That
it is a cheap harmless pennyworth is undeniable.
The street-sale of conundrums is carried on most extensively during a
week or two before Christmas; and on summer evenings, when the day’s
work is, or ought to be, over even among the operatives of the slop
employers. As the conundrum patterer requires an audience, he works
the quieter streets, preferring such as have no horse-thoroughfare--as
in some of the approaches from the direction of Golden-square to
Regent-street. The trade is irregularly pursued, none following it
all the year; and from the best information I could acquire, it
appears that fifteen men may be computed as working conundrums for
two months throughout the twelve, and clearing 10_s._ 6_d._ weekly,
per individual. The cost of the “Nuts to Crack” (when new) is 5_d._
a doz. to the seller; but old “Nuts” often answer the purpose of the
street-seller, and may be had for about half the price; the cost of the
“Nut-crackers” 2_s._ to 2_s._ 6_d._ It may be calculated, then, that to
realize the 10_s._ 6_d._, 15_s._ must be taken. This shows the street
expenditure in “Nuts to Crack” and “Nut-crackers” to be 90_l._ yearly.
OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF COMIC EXHIBITIONS, MAGICAL DELUSIONS, &C.
The street sale of “Comic Exhibitions” (properly so called) is, of
course, as modern as the last autumn and winter; and it is somewhat
curious that the sale of any humorous, or meant to be humorous sheet
of engravings, is now becoming very generally known in the street sale
as a “Comic Exhibition.” Among these--as I have before intimated--are
many caricatures of the Pope, the Church of Rome, Cardinal Wiseman, the
Church of England, the Bishop of London (or any bishop or dignitary),
or of any characteristic of the conflicting creeds. In many of these,
John Bull figures personally, and so does the devil.
The Comic Exhibition (proper) is certainly a very cheap pennyworth. No.
1 is entitled, “The Ceremonial of the Opening of the Great Exhibition,
in 1851, with Illustrations of the Contributions of All Nations.” The
“contributions,” however, are reserved for Nos. 2 and 3. Two larger
“cuts,” at the head of the broad-sheet, may be considered geographical,
as regards the first, and allegorical as regards the second. “Table
Bay” presents a huge feeder (evidently), and the “Cape of Good Hope” is
a spare man obsequiously bowing to the table and its guest in good hope
of a dinner. Of the Sandwich Islands and of Hung(a)ry, the “exhibition”
is of the same description. The second larger cut shows the Crystal
Palace ascending by the agency of a balloon, a host of people of all
countries looking on. Then comes the “Procession from Palace-yard
to Hyde Park.” The first figure in this procession is described as
“Beefeaters piping hot and well puffed out,” though there is but one
beefeater, with head larger than his body and legs ridiculously small,
(as have nearly all the sequent figures), smoking a pipe as if it were
a trombone, duly followed by “Her Majesty’s Spiritual Body-guard” (five
beefeaters, drunk), and by “Prince Albert blowing his own trumpet”
(from the back of a very sorry steed), with “Mops and brooms,” and
a “Cook-oo” (a housemaid and cook) as his supporters. Then follow
figures, grotesque enough, of which the titles convey the character: “A
famous Well-in-Town;” “Nae Peer-ye;” “Humorous Estimates” (Mr. Hume);
“A Jew-d’ esprit” (Mr. D’Israeli); “An exemplification of Cupidity in
Pummicestone” (Lord Palmerston); “Old Geese” and “Young Ducks” (old
and angry-looking and young and pretty women); “Some gentlemen who
patronise Moses in the Minories” (certainly no credit to the skill of
a tailor); “A Jew Lion” (M. Jullien); “Fine high screams” (ice-creams)
and “Capers” (chorister boys and ballet-girls); “Hey-day, you don’t
take advantage here” (Joseph Ady); and “Something to give the milk a
head” (a man with a horse’s head on a tray). These, however, are but a
portion of the figures. The Comic Exhibition-sheet contains ninety such
figures, independent of those in the two cuts mentioned as headings.
“Galleries of Comicalities,” or series of figures sometimes
satirically, sometimes grotesquely given without any aim at satire, are
also sold by the same parties, and are often announced as a “Threepenny
gallery for a penny!--and dirt cheap at threepence. As big as a
newspaper.”
Another broad-sheet sold this winter in the streets is entitled,
“Optical and Magical Delusions,” and was announced as “Dedicated to and
Prepared for his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales--the only original
copy.” The engravings are six in number, and are in three rows, each
accompanying engraving being reversed from its fellow: where the head
is erect on one side, it is downward on the other. The first figure is
a short length of a very plain woman, while on the opposite side is
that of a very plain man, both pleased and smirking in accordance with
a line below: “O what joy when our lips shall meet!” “Cat-a-gorical”
is a spectacled and hooded cat. “Dog-matical” is a dog with the hat,
wig, and cane once held proper to a physician. “Cross purposes” is an
austere lady in a monster cap, while her opposite husband is pointing
bitterly to a long bill. The purport of these figures is shown in the
following
“DIRECTIONS--Paste all over the Back of the sheet, and put a piece
of thick paper between, to stiffen it, then fold it down the centre,
so that the marginal lines fall exactly at the back of each other,
(which may be ascertained by holding it to the light)--press it quite
flat--when cut separate they will make three cards--shave them close
to the margin--then take a needlefull of double thread and pass it
through the dot at each end of the card; cut the thread off about
three inches long. By twisting the threads between your fore fingers
and thumbs, so as to spin the card round backwards and forwards with a
rapid motion, the figures will appear to connect and form a pleasing
delusion.”
Then there are the “Magical Figures,” or rude street imitations of Dr.
Paris’ ingenious toy, called the “Thaumascope.” Beside these are what
at the first glance appear mere black, and very black, marks, defining
no object; but a closer examination shows the outlines of a face, or of
a face and figure. Of such there are sometimes four on a broad-sheet,
but they are also sold separately, both in the streets and the small
stationers’ shops. When the white or black portion of the paper is cut
away (for both colours are so prepared), what remains, by a disposition
of the light, throws a huge shadow of a grotesque figure on the wall,
which may be increased or diminished according to the motions of the
exhibitor. The shadow-figures sold this winter by one of my informants
were of Mr. and Mrs. Manning, the Queen, Prince Albert, the Princess
Royal, and the Prince of Wales; “but you see, sir,” observed the man,
“the Queen and the Prince does for any father and mother--for she
hasn’t her crown on--and the Queen’s kids for anybody’s kids.”
I mention these matters more particularly, as it certainly shows
something of a change in the winter-evenings’ amusements of the
children of the working-classes. The principal street customers for
these penny papers were mechanics, who bought them on their way home
for the amusement of their families. Boys, however, bought almost as
many.
The sale of these papers is carried on by the same men as I have
described working conundrums. A superior patterer, of course, shows
that his magical delusions and magical figures combine all the wonders
of the magic lantern and the dissolving views, “and all for one penny.”
The trade is carried on only for a short time in the winter as regards
the magical portion; and I am informed that, including the “Comic
Exhibitions,” it extends to about half of the sum taken for conundrums,
or to about 45_l._
OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF PLAY-BILLS.
The sellers of play-bills carry on a trade which is exceedingly
uncertain, and is little remunerative. There are now rather more than
200 people selling play-bills in London, but the number has sometimes
been as high as 400. “Yes, indeed,” a theatrical gentleman said to me,
“and if a dozen more theatres were opened to-morrow, why each would
have more than its twenty bill-sellers the very first night. Where they
come from, or what they are, I haven’t a notion.”
The majority of the play-bill sellers are either old or young, the
sexes being about equally engaged in this traffic. Some of them have
followed the business from their childhood. I met with very few indeed
who knew anything of theatres beyond the names of the managers and
of the principal performers, while some do not even enjoy that small
modicum of knowledge, and some can neither read nor write. The boys
often run recklessly alongside the cabs which are conveying persons to
the theatre, and so offer their bills for sale. One of these youths
said to me, when I spoke of the danger incurred, “The cabman knows
how to do it, sir, when I runs and patters; and so does his hoss.” An
intelligent cabman, however, who was in the habit of driving parties
to the Lyceum, told me that these lads clung to his cab as he drove
down to Wellington-street in such a way, for they seemed never to look
before them, that he was in constant fear lest they should be run over.
Ladies are often startled by a face appearing suddenly at the cab
window, “and thro’ my glass,” said my informant, “a face would look
dirtier than it really is.” And certainly a face gliding along with
the cab, as it were, no accompanying body being visible, on a winter’s
night, while the sound of the runner’s footsteps is lost in the noise
of the cab, has much the effect of an apparition.
I did not hear of one person who had been in any way connected with
the stage, even as a supernumerary, resorting to play-bill selling
when he could not earn a shilling within the walls of a theatre. These
bill-sellers, for the most part, confine themselves, as far as I could
ascertain, to that particular trade. The youths say that they sometimes
get a job in errand-going in the daytime, but the old men and women
generally aver they can do nothing else. An officer, who, some years
back, had been on duty at a large theatre, told me that at that time
the women bill-sellers earned a trifle in running errands for the
women of the town who attended the theatres; but, as they were not
permitted to send any communication into the interior of the house,
their earnings that way were insignificant, for they could only send in
messages by any other “dress woman” entering the theatre subsequently.
In the course of my inquiries last year, I met with a lame woman of
sixty-eight, who had been selling play-bills for the last twelve years.
She had been, for six or eight months before she adopted that trade,
the widow of a poor mechanic, a carpenter. She had first thought of
resorting to that means of a livelihood owing to a neighbouring old
woman having been obliged to relinquish her post from sickness, when
my informant “succeeded her.” In this way, she said, many persons
“succeeded” to the business, as the recognised old hands were jealous
of and uncivil to any additional new comers, but did not object to a
“successor.” These parties generally know each other; they murmur if
the Haymarket hands, for instance, resort to the Lyceum for any cause,
or _vice versâ_, thus over-stocking the business, but they offer no
other opposition. The old woman further informed me that she commenced
selling play-bills at Astley’s, and then realized a profit of 4_s._
per week. When the old Amphitheatre was burnt down, she went to the
Victoria; but “business was not what it was,” and her earnings were
from 6_d._ to 1_s._ a week less; and this, she said, although the
Victoria was considered one of the most profitable stations for the
play-bill seller, the box-keeper there seldom selling any bill in the
theatre. “The boxes,” too, at this house, more frequently buy them
outside. Another reason why “business” was better at the Victoria
than elsewhere was represented to me, by a person familiar with the
theatres, to be this: many go to the Victoria who cannot read, or who
can read but imperfectly, and they love to “make-believe” they are
“good scholards” by parading the consulting of a play-bill!
On my visit the bill-sellers at the Victoria were two old women (each
a widow for many years), two young men, besides two or three, though
there are sometimes as many as six or seven children. The old women
“fell into the business” as successors by virtue of their predecessors’
leaving it on account of sickness. The children were generally
connected with the older dealers. The young men had been in this
business from boyhood; some sticking to the practice of their childhood
unto manhood, or towards old age. The number at the Victoria is now, I
am informed, two or three more, as the theatre is often crowded. The
old woman told me that she had known two and even four visitors to the
theatre club for the purchase of a bill, and then she had sometimes to
get farthings for them.
A young fellow--who said he believed he was only eighteen, but
certainly looked older--told me that he was in the habit of selling
play-bills, but not regularly, as he sometimes had a job in carrying
a board, or delivering bills at a corner, “or the likes o’ that;”--he
favoured me with his opinion of the merits of the theatres he was
practically acquainted with as regarded their construction for the
purposes of the bill-seller. His mother, who had been dead a few years,
had sold bills, and had put him into the business. His ambition seemed
to be to become a general bill-sticker. He could not write but could
read very imperfectly.
“Vy, you see, sir,” he said, “there’s sets off. At the Market
(Haymarket), now, there’s this: there’s only one front, so you may look
sharp about for there goes, boxes, pit, and gallery. The ’Delphis as
good that way, and so is the Surrey, but them one’s crowded too much.
The Lyceum’s built shocking orkered. Vy, the boxes is in one street,
and the pit in another, and the gallery in another! It’s true, sir. The
pit’s the best customer in most theatres, I think. Ashley’s and the
Wick is both spoiled that way--Ashley’s perticler--as the gallery’s a
good step from the pit and boxes; at the Wick it’s round the corner.
But the shilling gallery aint so bad at Ashley’s. Sadler’s Wells I
never tried, it’s out of the way, and I can’t tell you much about the
’Lympic or the Strand. The Lane is middling. I don’t know that either
plays or actors makes much difference to me. Perhaps it’s rather
vorser ven it’s anything werry prime, as everybody seems to know every
think about it aforehand. No, sir, I can’t say, sir, that Mr. Macready
did me much good. I sometimes runs along by a cab because I’ve got a
sixpence from a swell for doing it stunnin’, but werry seldom, and I
don’t much like it; though ven you’re at it you don’t think of no fear.
I makes 3_s._ or rather more a week at bill-selling, and as much other
vays. I never saw a play but once at the Wick. I’d rather be at a Free
and Heasy. I don’t know as I knows any of the actors or actresses,
either hes or shes.”