years ago there might be twelve book-auctioneers in the streets of
London, or rather, of its suburbs. One of these was a frequenter of
the Old Kent-road; another, “Newington way;” and a third resorted to
“any likely pitch in Pimlico”--all selling from a sort of van. Of
these twelve, however, my informant thought that there were never
more than six in London at one time, as they were all itinerant; and
they have gradually dwindled down to two, who are now not half their
time in town. These two traders are brothers, and sell their books
from a sort of platform erected on a piece of waste-ground, or from a
barrow. The works they sell are generally announced as new, and are
often uncut. They are all recommended as explanatory of every topic of
the day, and are often set forth as “spicy.” Three or four years ago,
a gentleman told me how greatly he was amused with the patter of one
of these men, who was selling books at the entrance of a yard full of
caravans, not far from the School for the Blind, Lambeth. One work the
street-auctioneer announced at the top of his voice, in the following
terms, as far as a good memory could retain them: “‘The Rambler!’ Now
you rambling boys--now you young devils, that’s been staring those
pretty girls out of countenance--here’s the very book for you, and
more shame for you, and perhaps for me too; but I must sell--I must do
business. If any lady or gen’lman’ll stand treat to a glass of brandy
and water, ‘warm with,’ I’ll tell more about this ‘Rambler’--I’m too
bashful, as it is. Who bids? Fifteen-pence--thank’ee, sir. Sold again!”
The “Rambler” was Dr. Johnson’s!
The last time one of my informants heard the “patter” of the
smartest of the two brothers, it was to the following effect: “Here
is the ‘History of the Real Flying Dutchman,’ and _no_ mistake; no
fiction, I assure you, upon my honour. Published at 10_s._--who bids
half-a-crown? Sixpence; thank you, sir. Ninepence; going--going! Any
more?--gone!”
A book-stall-keeper, who had sold goods to a book-auctioneer, and
attended the sales, told me he was astonished to hear how his own
books--“old new books,” he called them, were set off by the auctioneer:
“Why, there was a vol. lettered ‘Pamphlets,’ and I think there _was_
something about Jack Sheppard in it, but it was all odds and ends of
other things, I know. ‘Here’s the _real_ Jack Sheppard,’ sings out the
man, ‘and no gammon!’ The real edition--no spooniness here, but set off
with other interesting histories, valuable for the rising generation
and all generations. This is the real Jack. This will
‘----put you up to the time o’ day,
Nix, my dolly pals, _bid_ away.’
“Then he went on: ‘Goldsmith’s History of England. Continued by the
first writers of the day--to the very last rumpus in the palace, and no
mistake. Here it is; genuine.’ Well, sir,” the stall-keeper continued,
“the man didn’t do well; perhaps he cleared 1_s._ 6_d._ or a little
more that evening on books. People laughed more than they bought. But
it’s no wonder the trade’s going to the dogs--they’re not allowed to
have a pitch now; I shouldn’t be surprised if they was not _all_ driven
out of London next year. It’s contrary to Act of Parliament to get an
honest living in the streets now-a-days.”
A man connected with the street book-trade considered that if one of
these auctioneers earned a guinea in London streets in the six days it
was a “good week.” Half-a-guinea was nearer the average, he thought,
“looking at the weather and everything.” What amount is expended to
enable this street-dealer to earn his guinea or half-guinea, is so
uncertain, from the very nature of an auction, that I can obtain no
data to rely upon.
The itinerant book-auctioneer is now confined chiefly to the provincial
towns, and especially the country markets. The reason for this is
correctly given in the statement above cited. The street-auction
requires the gathering of so large a crowd that the metropolitan police
consider the obstruction to the public thoroughfares warrants their
interference. The two remaining book-auctioneers in London generally
restrict their operations to the outskirts--the small space which
fronts “the George Inn” in the Commercial-road, and which lays a few
yards behind the main thoroughfare, and similar suburban “retreats”
being favourite “pitches.” The trade is, as regards profits, far
from bad--the books sold consisting chiefly of those picked up in
cheap “lots” at the regular auctions; so that what fetches 6_d._
in the streets has generally been purchased for less than a penny.
The average rate of profit may be taken at 250_l._ per cent. at the
least. Exorbitant however as this return may appear, still it should
be remembered that the avocation is one that can be pursued only
occasionally, and that solely in fine weather. Books are now more
frequently sold in the London streets from barrows. This change of
traffic has been forced upon the street-sellers by the commands of
the police--that the men should “keep moving.” Hence the well-known
light form of street conveyance is now fast superseding not only the
book-auctioneer, but the book-stall in the London streets. Of these
book-barrowmen there is now about fifty trading regularly in the
metropolis, and taking on an average from 3_s._ to 5_s._ 6_d._ a day.
OF THE STREET-SALE OF SONG-BOOKS, AND OF CHILDREN’S BOOKS.
The sale of song-books in the streets, at 1_d._ and at 1/2_d._ each,
is smaller than it was two years ago. One reason that I heard assigned
was that the penny song-books--styled “The Universal Song-book,” “The
National,” “The Bijou,” &c.--were reputed to be so much alike (the same
songs under a different title), that people who had bought one book
were averse to buy another. “There’s the ‘Ross’ and the ‘Sam Hall’
song-books,” said one man, “the ‘eighteenth series,’ and I don’t know
what; but I don’t like to venture on working them, though they’re only
a penny. There’s lots to be seen in the shop-windows; but they might be
stopped in the street, for they an’t decent--’specially the flash ones.”
One of the books which a poor man had found the most saleable is
entitled, “The Great Exhibition Song-book; a Collection of the Newest
and Most Admired Songs. Embellished with upwards of one Hundred Toasts
and Sentiments.” The toasts and sentiments are given in small type, as
a sort of border to the thirty-two pages of which the book consists.
The toast on the title-page is as follows:
“I’ll toast England’s daughters, let all fill their glasses,
Whose beauty and virtue the whole world surpasses.”
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.