account from one of the body. He was well dressed, and a good but
keen-looking man of about thirty-five, slim, and of rather short
stature, with quick dark eyes and bushy whiskers, on which it
was evident no small culture was bestowed. His manners were far
from obtrusive or importunate--to those whom he sought to make
customers--for I happened to witness a portion of his proceedings in
that respect; but he had a quiet perseverance with him, which, along
with perfect civility, and something like deference, might be the most
efficient means of recommending himself to the maid-servants, among
whom lay his chief customers. He showed a little of the pride of art in
describing the management of his business, but he would not hear that
he “pattered:” he talked to his customers, he declared, as any draper,
who knew his business well, might talk to _his_.
When I saw him, his pack, which he carried slung over one shoulder,
contained a few gown-pieces of printed cotton, nearly all with pink
grounds; a few shawls of different sizes; and three rolls firmly
packed, each with a card-label on which was neatly written, “French
Merino. Full duty paid. A.B.--L.F.--18--33--1851. French Chocolate.”
There were also six neat paper packages, two marked “worked collars,”
three, “gauze handkerchiefs,” and the other “beautiful child’s gros de
naples.” The latter consisted of 4-1/2 yards of black silk, sufficient
for a child’s dress. He carried with him, moreover, 5 umbrellas, one
inclosed in a bright glazed cover, while from its mother-of-pearl
handle hung a card addressed--“The Lady’s Maid, Victoria Lodge, 13_s._
6_d._”
“This is a very small stock,” he said, “to what I generally carry, but
I’m going on a country round to-morrow, and I want to get through it
before I lay in a new one. I tell people that I want to sell off my
goods cheap, as they’re too good for country sale; and that’s true, the
better half of it.”
On my expressing some surprise that he should be leaving London at this
particular time, he answered:--
“I go into the country because I think all the hawkers will be making
for town, and there’ll be plenty of customers left in the country, and
fewer to sell to them at their own places. That’s my opinion.”
“I sell to women of all sorts. Smart-dressing servant-maids, perhaps,
are my best customers, especially if they live a good way from any
grand ticketing shop. I sold one of my umbrellas to one of them just
before you spoke to me. She was standing at the door, and I saw her
give half a glance at the umbrellas, and so I offered them. She first
agreed to buy a very nice one at 3_s._ 3_d._ (which should have been
4_s._), but I persuaded her to take one at 3_s._ 9_d._ (which should
have been 4_s._ 6_d._). ‘Look here, ma’am,’ said I, ‘this umbrella is
much bigger you see, and will carry double, so when you’re coming from
church of a wet Sunday evening, a friend can have share of it, and very
grateful he’ll be, as he’s sure to have his best hat on. There’s been
many a question put under an umbrella that way that’s made a young lady
blush, and take good care of her umbrella when she was married, and had
a house of her own. I look sharp after the young and pretty ladies,
Miss, and shall as long as I’m a bachelor.’ ‘O,’ says she, ‘such
ridiculous nonsense because it’s often so windy about here, and then
one must have a good cover if it rains as well.’
“That’s my way, sir. I don’t mind telling that, because they do the
same in the shops. I’ve heard them, but they can’t put love and
sweet-hearting so cleverly in a crowded shop as we can in a quiet
house. It’s that I go for, love and sweet-hearting; and I always speak
to any smart servant as if I thought she was the mistress, or as if
I wasn’t sure whether she was the mistress or the lady’s-maid; three
times out of four she’s house-maid or maid of all work. I call her
‘ma’am,’ and ‘young lady,’ and sometimes ‘miss.’ It’s no use offering
to sell until a maid has tidied herself in the afternoon--not a bit. I
should make a capital draper’s shopman, I know, only I could never bear
the confinement. I never will hear such words as ‘I don’t want it,’ or,
‘nothing more to-day,’ no more than if I was behind a counter.
“The great difficulty I have is to get a chance of offering my goods.
If I ring at a gate--for I always go a little way out of town--they can
see who it is, and I may ring half an hour for nothing. If the door’s
opened it’s often shut again directly, and I just hear ‘bother.’ I used
to leave a few bills, and I do so still in some parts of the country,
with a list of goods, and ‘this bill to be called for’ printed at the
bottom. But I haven’t done that in town for a long time; it’s no good.
People seem to think it’s giving double trouble. One of the prettiest
girls I ever saw where I called one evening, pointed--just as I began
to say, ‘I left a bill and’--to some paper round a candle in a stick,
and shut the door laughing.
“In selling my gown-pieces I say they are such as will suit the
complexion, and such like; and I always use my judgment in saying
so. Why shouldn’t I? It’s the same to me what colour I sell. ‘It’s a
genteel thing, ma’am,’ I’ll say to a servant-maid, ‘and such as common
people won’t admire. It’s not staring enough for them. I’m sure it
would become you, ma’am, and is very cheap; cheaper than you could buy
at a shop; for all these things are made by the same manufacturers,
and sold to the wholesale dealers at the same price, and a shopkeeper,
you know, has his young men, and taxes, and rates, and gas, and fine
windows to pay for, and I haven’t, so it don’t want much judgment to
see that I must be able to sell cheaper than shopkeepers, and I think
your own taste, ma’am, will satisfy you that these here are elegant
patterns.’
“That’s the way I go on. No doubt there’s others do the same, but I
know and care little about them. I have my own way of doing business,
and never trouble myself about other people’s patter or nonsense.
“Now, that piece of silk I shall, most likely, sell to the landlady of
a public-house, where I see there’s children. I shall offer it after
I’ve got a bit of dinner there, or when I’ve said I want a bit. It’s
no use offering it there, though, if it isn’t cheap; they’re too good
judges. Innkeepers aren’t bad customers, I think, taking it altogether,
to such as me, if you can get to talk to them, as you sometimes can
at their bars. They’re generally wanting something, that’s one step.
I always tell them that they ought to buy of men, in my way, who live
among them, and not of fine shop-keepers, who never came a-near their
houses. I’ve sold them both cottons and linens, after such talk as
that. I live at public-houses in the country. I sleep nowhere else.
“My trade in town is nothing to what it was ten or a dozen years back.
I don’t know the reason exactly. I think so many threepenny busses
is one; for they’ll take any servant, when she’s got an afternoon,
to a thoroughfare full of ticket-shops, and bring her back, and her
bundle of purchases too, for another 3_d._ I shall cut it altogether,
I think, and stick to the country. Why, I’ve known the time when I
should have met from half-a-dozen to a dozen people trading in my way
in town, and for these three days, and dry days too, I haven’t met one.
My way of trading in the country is just the same as in town. I go
from farm-house to farm-house, or call at gentlemen’s grand seats--if
a man’s known to the servants there, it may be the best card he can
play--and I call at every likely house in the towns or villages. I
only go to a house and sell a mistress or maid the same sort of goods
(a little cheaper, perhaps), and recommend them in the same way, as is
done every day at many a fine city, and borough, and West-End shop. I
never say they’re part of a bankrupt’s stock; a packfull would seem
nothing for that. I never pretend that they’re smuggled. Mine’s a
respectable trade, sir. There’s been so much dodging that way, it’s
been a great stop to fair trading; and I like to go on the same round
more than once. A person once taken-in by smuggled handkerchiefs,
or anything, won’t deal with a hawker again, even though there’s no
deception. But ‘duffing,’ and all that is going down fast, and I wish
it was gone altogether. I do nothing in tally. I buy my goods; and
I’ve bought all sorts, in wholesale houses, of course, and I’d rather
lay out 10_l._ in Manchester than in London. O, as to what I make, I
can’t say it’s enough to keep me (I’ve only myself), and escape the
income-tax. Sometimes I make 10_s._ a week; sometimes 20_s._; sometimes
30_s._; and I have made 50_s._; and one week, the best I ever did, I
made as much as 74_s._ 6_d._ That’s all I can say.”
Perhaps it may be sufficiently accurate to compute the average weekly
earnings of a smart trader like my informant, at from 21_s._ to 25_s._
in London, and from 25_s._ to 30_s._ in the country.
OF THE TALLY PACKMAN.
The pedlar tallyman is a hawker who supplies his customers with goods,
receiving payment by weekly instalments, and derives his name from the
tally or score he keeps with his customers. Linen drapery--or at least
the general routine of linen-draper’s stock, as silk-mercery, hosiery,
woollen cloths, &c.--is the most prevalent trade of the tallyman.
There are a few shoemakers and some household furniture dealers who
do business in the tally or “score” system; but the great majority
are linen-drapers, though some of them sell household furniture as
well. The system is generally condemned as a bad one; as leading to
improvidence in the buyer and rapacity in the seller. There are many
who have incurred a tally debt, and have never been able to “get a-head
of it,” but have been kept poor by it all their lives. Some few,
however, may have been benefited by the system, and as an outfit for
a young man or woman entering service is necessary--when the parties
are too poor to pay ready money--it is an accommodation. I have never
heard any of the tallyman’s customers express an opinion upon the
subject, other than that they wish they had done with the tallyman, or
could do without him.
The system does not prevail to so great an extent as it did some
years back. The pedlar or hawking tallyman travels for orders, and
consequently is said not to require a hawker’s licence. The great
majority of the tally-packmen are Scotchmen. The children who are set
to watch the arrival of the tallyman, and apprise the mother of his
approach, when not convenient to pay, whisper instead of “Mother,
here’s the Tallyman,” “Mother, here’s the Scotchman.” These men live in
private houses, which they term their warehouse; they are many of them
proprietors themselves in a small way, and conduct the whole of their
business unassisted. Their mode of doing business is as follows:--they
seldom knock at a door except they have a customer upon whom they call
for the weekly instalment, but if a respectable-looking female happens
to be standing at her door, she, in all probability, is accosted by
the Scotchman, “Do you require anything in my way to-day, ma’am?”
This is often spoken in broad Scotch, the speaker trying to make it
sound as much like English as possible. Without waiting for a reply,
he then runs over a programme of the treasures he has to dispose of,
emphasising all those articles which he considers likely to suit the
taste of the person he addresses. She doesn’t want perhaps any--she
has no money to spare then. “She may want something in his way another
day, may-be,” says the tallyman. “Will she grant him permission to
exhibit some beautiful shawls--the last new fashion? or some new
style of dress, just out, and an extraordinary bargain?” The man’s
importunities, and the curiosity of the lady, introduces him into the
apartment,--an acquaintance is called in to pass her opinion upon
the tallyman’s stock. Should she still demur, he says, “O, I’m sure
your husband cannot object--he will not be so unreasonable; besides,
consider the easy mode of payment, you’ll only have to pay 1_s._
6_d._ a week for every pound’s worth of goods you take; why it’s like
nothing; you possess yourself of respectable clothing and pay for them
in such an easy manner that you never miss it; well, I’ll call next
week. I shall leave you this paper.” The paper left is a blank form
to be filled up by the husband, and runs thus:--“I agree on behalf
of my wife to pay, by weekly instalments of 1_s._ 6_d._ upon every
pound’s worth of good she may purchase.” This proceeding is considered
necessary by the tallymen, as the judges in the Court of Requests now
so frequently decide against him, where the husband is not cognisant of
the transaction.
These preliminaries being settled, and the question having been asked
what business the husband is--where he works--and (if it can be done
without offence) what are his wages? The Scotchman takes stock of
the furniture, &c.; the value of what the room contains gives him a
sufficiently correct estimate of the circumstances of his customers.
His next visit is to the nearest chandler’s shop, and there as blandly
as possible he inquires into the credit, &c., of Mr. ----. If he
deal, however, with the chandler, the tallyman accounts it a bad omen,
as people in easy circumstances seldom resort to such places. “It is
unpleasant to me,” he says to the chandler, “making these inquiries;
but Mrs. ---- wishes to open an account with me, and I should like
to oblige them if I thought my money was safe.” “Do _you_ trust
them, and what sort of payers are they?” According to the reply--the
tallyman determines upon his course. But he rarely stops here; he makes
inquiries also at the greengrocer’s, the beer shop, &c.
The persons who connect themselves with the tallyman, little know the
inquisition they subject themselves to.
When the tallyman obtains a customer who pays regularly, he is
as importunate for her to recommend him another customer, as he
originally was to obtain her custom. Some tallymen who keep shops
have “travellers” in their employ, some of whom have salaries, while
others receive a percentage upon all payments, and do not suffer any
loss upon bad debts. Notwithstanding the caution of the tallyman, he
is frequently “victimised.” Many pawn the goods directly they have
obtained them, and in some instances spend the money in drink. Their
many losses, as a matter of course, _somebody_ must make good. It
therefore becomes necessary for them to charge a higher price for their
commodities than the regular trader.
However charitably inclined the tallyman may be at first, he soon
becomes, I am told, inured to scenes of misery, while the sole feeling
in his mind at length is, “I will have my money;” for he is often
tricked, and in some cases most impudently victimised. I am told by a
tallyman that he once supplied goods to the amount of 2_l._, and when
he called for the first instalment, the woman said she didn’t intend to
pay, the goods didn’t suit her, and she would return them. The tallyman
expressed his willingness to receive them back, whereupon she presented
him a pawnbroker’s duplicate. She had pledged them an hour after
obtaining them. This was done in a court in the presence of a dozen
women, who all chuckled with delight at the joke.
The principal portion of the tallyman’s customers are poor mechanics.
When the appearance of the house, and the inquiries out of doors
are approved of, no security is required; but the tallyman would at
all times rather add a security, when attainable. Servant-girls who
deal with tallymen must find the security of a housekeeper; and when
such housekeeper agrees to be responsible for the payments, the same
inquisitorial proceedings are adopted, in order to ascertain the
circumstances of the surety. There are about fifty drapery shops in
London where the tally-trade is carried on; and about 200 Scotchmen,
besides fifty others (part English, part Irish), are engaged in the
trade. A clerk of a tally-shop, at the West-end, informs me that there
are ten collectors and canvassers for customers, out each day, from
that one establishment; and that, until lately, they were accustomed
to collect moneys on Sundays. Some collect as much as 12_l._ or 14_l._
a day; and some not more than 2_l._ or 3_l._ The average sum collected
may be about 5_l._ each, or 50_l._ per day by the whole. The profits
are 30 per cent., the bad debts 10 per cent., thus leaving 20 per cent.
net.
The Scotchman who does not choose to extend his business beyond his
own cautious superintendence, is content with smaller profits, perhaps
20 per cent., and his bad debts may be estimated at 2-1/2 per cent.
One of the body informed me that he had been in the tally-trade about
five years; that he commenced with a capital of only 10_l._, and that
now his collections average 30_l._ per week. He never bought, he
said, on credit; and his stock on hand is worth nearly 200_l._ cost
price, while his outstanding debts are nearly 200_l._ also. “This is a
flourishing state of affairs,” he remarked; “I do not owe a penny in
the world, and I have accomplished all this in little less than five
years.” This man had served his apprenticeship to a draper in Glasgow,
and had originally arrived in London with 20_l._ in his pocket. After
some weeks’ fruitless endeavour to obtain a situation, his money
dwindling away the while, he was advised, by a fellow-countryman, who
was a tallyman, to try the tally-trade. For a few days previous to
adopting the business, he went the “rounds” with his friend, for the
purpose of getting initiated, and the week after started on his own
account. Notwithstanding his having no hawker’s licence, he tried to
effect sales for ready money, and, to a trifling extent, succeeded.
The first week he obtained three tally customers. He could have got,
he said, a dozen; but he selected three whom he considered good, and
he was not deceived, for they continued to be customers of his to this
day. The amount of goods that each of these took of him was 20_s._; and
the three instalments of 1_s._ 6_d._ each (4_s._ 6_d._ per week) the
tallyman determined to subsist upon, though his lodging and washing
cost him 2_s._ per week. He lived principally upon “parritch” and skim
milk, indulging now and then in the luxury of a herring and a few
potatoes. In twelve weeks he had added only one more credit customer
to his books. He had hawked for ready money, and had succeeded so far
as to increase his stock to 15_l._ in value. His first three customers
had, by this time, paid their accounts, and again patronized him. In
the course of a little time his fourth customer had also paid up, and
had another supply of goods; he then added two more tally customers,
and commenced indulging (though very seldom) in a mutton chop. He
progressed slowly, and is now in flourishing circumstances. He states
that he has met with only one loss during his connection with the
tally-trade, and that but a trifling one. It is those who wish to drive
a very extensive business, he says, who are principally victimised. The
most industrious of the packmen tallymen seldom travel less than twenty
miles a day, carrying a burthen upon their backs of from 100 to 120
lbs. They used to carry merely patterns to their customers, but they
find that the full-length article is more likely to secure purchasers
and customers. Those who keep shops do not carry goods with them; the
would-be customer is invited to the shop.
The best day for business in the tally-trade is Monday, and most
of these shops upon that day are crowded. Sometimes an unsolicited
customer (mostly a female) presents herself, and wishes to be supplied
with goods on tally. “Who recommended you?” inquires the tallyman. “Oh,
Mrs. ----, sir, a customer of yours.” “Ah! indeed, very much obliged to
Mrs. ----,” is the answer. The articles required are shown, selected,
and cut. The new customer is treated most civilly by the tallyman, who
further inquires her name and abode. The purchaser, of course, expects
the next process will be to deliver up the parcel to her, when she is
informed that they “will send it home for her.” “Oh,” she replies, “I
won’t trouble you, I can carry it myself.” “Our rule, ma’am,” returns
the tallyman, “is always to send parcels home. We certainly cannot
doubt your respectability, but we never deviate from our practice.”
The disappointed female departs, and if the inquiries do not prove
satisfactory, she never hears further from the tallyman. The goods
which she selected, and which were cut expressly for her, find their
way to the shelves of the establishment. If, however, a good customer
accompanies a friend whom she wishes to recommend, the parcels are
delivered when purchased, if required. The tallyman (to good customers)
often extends his civilities to a glass of wine; or, if the “Ladies”
prefer it (which it must be confessed they mostly do), a glass of gin.
There is another class of tallymen who sell clocks, receiving payment
by weekly instalments. These are content with an instalment of 1_s._ in
the pound per week. They are principally Germans who can speak English.
Their proceedings altogether are similar to the tally linen-draper.
I have given the rise and progress of a Scotch tallyman, and will
now relate the downfall of another--an Englishman. He commenced
a tally-shop in the neighbourhood of ----, and was carrying on a
prosperous and daily increasing trade. At one time, a bill in the shop
window announced that an errand boy was wanted--an applicant soon
presented himself--was engaged, and proved a steady lad. In the course
of a few weeks, this youth was promoted to the office of serving in
the shop, and afterwards became collecting clerk. “George,” said his
master one day, “we have three days in the week unemployed; suppose
you try and form a connection around Finchley, Highgate, Hampstead,
and that neighbourhood.” George was quite willing to make the
experiment, and succeeded beyond expectation. The country connection
soon surpassed the town trade; and George, the errand boy, became a
man of some consequence in the establishment. The principal of the
firm was what is termed “gay.” He was particularly fond of attending
public entertainments. He sported a little as well, and delighted in
horse-racing. His business, though an excellent one, was neglected;
the books got out of order; and he became involved in difficulties.
An examination of his affairs took place; and a Mr. R---- was engaged
from a wholesale house in the city to assist in making up the accounts,
&c. During this person’s sojourn in the shop, he saw that George
(the quondam errand boy) was the chief support of the concern. The
country customers had never seen any other person, and a partnership
was proposed. The proposal was accepted, and the firm R---- and W----
became one of the most prosperous tally-shops in the neighbourhood of
Tottenham-court-road. George’s master was made bankrupt, and is now a
street-seller in Fitzroy-market--vending sandwiches, &c.