GRIDLING
It was a beautiful morning in September when I left the Ark with every
prospect of fulfilling this mission. As I advanced towards the
country, mile after mile, the sounds of commerce dying low, and the
human face becoming more rare, I lost for the time being my vision of
the future, being filled with the peace of present objects. I noted
with joy the first green field after the park, the first bird that
differed from the sparrow, the first stile in the hedge after the
carved gate, and the first footpath across the wild common that was
neither of gravel nor ash. I had something like nine shillings in my
pocket, and I felt that business was out of the question as long as
any of this remained. Reaching St. Albans on the first night, I walked
through that town, and, making a pillow of my pack, lay down on the
wild common. It seemed as though extra bodies of stars had been
drafted that night into the heavens to guard and honour the coming of
age of a beautiful moon. And this fine scene kept me awake for two or
three hours, in spite of tired limbs. This seemed to me a glorious
life, as long as summer lasted and one had money to buy food in towns
and villages through which he passed. For three or four days I walked
and idled, standing on culverts and watching the water burst from
darkness into light; listening to the birds; or looking at a distant
spire that was high enough, and no more, to show that a quiet town was
lying there under a thousand trees.
I reached Northampton, and it was in this town that I intended to
start business on the following day, though I still had a few
shillings left, having slept in the open air since leaving London.
With this object I proceeded to examine my pack, with the intention of
filling my pockets with the different wares, to draw them forth one or
two at a time, as they would be needed. So, that night, previous to
the great business that was to be transacted on the following day, I
sought a quiet corner in the lodging house, and began to unroll my
paper parcel. As I proceeded to do this, it seemed to me that the
inner part of the parcel was damp, and then I remembered the two or
three heavy showers that we had on the second day of my travels. On a
further examination I discovered, to my horror, that the goods were
entirely unfit for sale; that the parcel had been so bent and
misshapen one way and the other, during my night's repose, that the
needles had cut through their rotten packets, and were stuck in the
pin papers, and that a great number of pins had concealed their whole
bodies in the needle packets, showing plainly the guilty tops of their
heads. The laces were twisted and turned, and their tags were already
rusted. This was a great blow to me, as there seemed nothing else to
do but send home for the few shillings that had now become due. But on
second thoughts I made up my mind to travel without stock of any kind,
not doubting but what I would rise to the emergency after the last
penny had been expended, and I was under the force of necessity.
Thinking Northampton too large a town in which to starve, I determined
to remain here until my funds were exhausted, when desperation would
urge me to action. With this idea I took life very easily for a couple
more days, even inviting poverty by being unusually extravagant, going
to the extreme of buying milk for my tea. But when I became reduced to
the last sixpence, I decided to make all speed to Birmingham, as the
resources of that city, it being so much larger, would be a better
place to serve my wants.
Starting on this journey, without any more delay, I was soon going
into the town of Rugby, tired, penniless, and hungry. What was I to
do? Something had to be done, and that at once. I had to face the
horrible truth that I was now on the verge of starvation. Whilst busy
with these unpleasant thoughts, I heard a voice shout to me from the
roadside, and, looking in that direction, saw a man sitting in the
grass, eating from a paper parcel, which was half spread before him.
On going over to see what this man wanted, I found an apparently tall
man and large in proportion, who was dressed in seedy looking clothes,
which were torn and patched in a good many places. In fact, something
seemed to have been gnawing night after night at the bottom of his
trousers, taking advantage of him in his sleep, for these hung in
tatters and rags just below the calves of his legs. The man had a
freckled face, which was almost lost in an abundance of red hair, and
his head was as thick with the same. What helped to make his
appearance strange, and perhaps ridiculous, was a schoolboy's small
cap to cover the crown of such a large head. "Have a mouthful of
this," he said, inviting me to partake of some bread and meat. "It is
dry eating, I must say, but, as we go into Rugby, we can wash it down
with a pint or two of beer." I thanked him for his kindness, and,
accepting his invitation, seated myself on the grass. "What's in your
bundle," he asked, looking askance at a small brown paper parcel,
which contained a clean shirt, socks and a handkerchief, "are you
selling anything?" I explained to him that I was a licensed hawker,
but had not yet been long enough at the business to make a success of
it. "What," he cried with some surprise, "a one legged man not to be
successful? I get all I want by just opening of my mouth," although he
added with some scorn, "I know that some people cannot beg unless
they have something in their hands to sell. But if you travel with me,
all you will have to do is to pick up the coppers."
After I had finished eating, he proposed to set off immediately; and,
as we walked leisurely along, I wondered how it was possible for a big
healthy fellow like this to be able to exist in any other manner than
by selling. On coming to the first public house he politely invited me
to enter, which I did, when he called for two pints of beer. He then
became communicative, telling me he was a gridler, and a good one too;
which I understood to mean a grinder, although I had not seen tools of
any description either in his hands or in his pockets. He paid for two
or three pints of beer in quick succession, and, not having had much
drink for a considerable time, I began to feel somewhat elated, and
began to make a laughing joke of my circumstances. "Now," said this
man, "to business; for we must get the price of our beds and a little
breakfast for the morning, not to mention the night's supper. All you
have to do," he said again, "is to pick up the coppers as they come."
Wondering what these words could mean, I followed him, on this
pleasant afternoon, up several side streets, until we came to the end
of one very long street, which had respectable looking houses on
either side of the road. My strange companion walked several yards
down this street, and then came to a sudden halt in the middle of the
road. "Now," said he, for the third or fourth time, "all you have to
do is to pick up the coppers. I ask you to do no more; except," he
added, grinning rather unpleasantly, "except to see that we are not
picked up by the coppers." His joke appeared simple enough, and I
could not fail to understand it, but it was not at all to my relish.
The last named coppers were police officers, who would be likely to
take hold of us for illegally appropriating the copper coins of the
realm. "Are you going to pick up the coppers?" he asked a little
impatiently, seeing me standing irresolute and undecided as to what to
do. Scarcely knowing how to answer him, I said that if I saw any
coppers he need have no fear but what I would pick them up. "All
right, that's good," he said, at the same time moving several feet
away from me. I stood still watching these mysterious movements, and
thinking of the coppers, wondering from what source they would be
supplied. He now turned his back, without more ado, and, setting his
eyes on the front windows before him, began, to my amazement, to sing
a well known hymn, singing it in the most horrible and lifeless voice
I have ever heard. In spite of the drink, which had now taken effect,
making my head swell with stupidity, I still felt an overwhelming
shame at finding myself in this position. I stood irresolute, not
knowing whether to wait the result of this, or to leave him at once
with short ceremony. But, whilst ruminating in this frame of mind, I
heard a window open with a loud creak, saw the shaking of a fair hand,
and then heard a copper coin fall on the hard earth within a yard of
where I stood. Being penniless I was nothing loth to take possession
of this coin, and had scarcely done so, when a front door opened on
the other side of the street, and a fat florid old gentleman appeared
and beckoned me across to him. Going immediately to this gentleman, I
received twopence and, after thanking him, joined my companion in the
road. Now, as I belong to a race of people that are ever prone to
song, whether it be in a public house or a prayer meeting, it will not
surprise many to know that ere long I was making strong attempts to
sing bass to this man's miserable treble, and only ceased to do so
when it became necessary to stoop and pick up the coppers, which
continued to come in at the rate of two to the minute. The effect of
my voice on my companion was immediately apparent. His limbs shook,
his knees bent and knocked together, and his voice quivered and
quavered with a strong emotion. He was now singing another well-known
hymn, better known perhaps than the last; and what with his tall form
bent double to half its height, and the wringing of his hands in
despair--a poor wretch who was apparently broken both in body and
spirit--he was, at this particular stage, the most miserable looking
mortal I have ever beheld. He was in this old man's broken attitude
when, to my surprise, he suddenly straightened his great body, and
gazed about one second down the street. After which he quickly turned
on his heels, saying, in short peremptory tones--"Quick march," at the
same time suiting the action to the words, in sharp military steps.
What the people, in their different windows, and on their doors,
thought of this change, I cannot say. I looked down the street, and
then saw that a police officer had just turned its far corner, and was
coming slowly in our direction. My companion waited for me at our end
of the street, where I joined him as soon as possible. "It is getting
harder every day for a poor man to get a living," he said, when I
stood beside him. "Suppose you count the earnings," he said. "We work
together well." On doing this, I found twenty pennies to be in my
possession, and, at his suggestion, we there and then shared them
alike. "Friend," he began, "before we commence again, let me give you
a word or two of advice. First of all, you sing in too lusty a voice,
as though you were well fed, and in good health. Secondly, you are in
too much of a hurry to move on, and would get out of people's hearing
before they have time to be affected. Try to sing in a weaker voice:
draw out the easy low notes to a greater length, and cut the difficult
high notes short, as though you had spasms in the side. Your object
is to save your voice as much as possible, indifferent to the demands
of music, or the spirit of the song. When we start in another street,"
he continued,--but at this admonitory point I cut him short, telling
him that I had had enough of--eh--gridling. "What, enough of
chanting?" he cried in amaze. "Why, my dear fellow, it is the best
thing on the road, bar none. All right," he said, seeing my
determination not to make a fresh start, "we will make our way to the
lodging house: it is not far from here."
We were soon comfortably settled in this place, and when, after having
had a good tea, I was sitting smoking, and enjoying a newspaper, I
felt more pleased than ashamed of what I had done; for I was going to
bed with an easy stomach, and had coppers in my pocket for a good
breakfast. Therefore, when a fellow lodger, a hawker, who was now
taking an inventory of his wares, and who had probably seen and heard
us singing that day, when following his own calling--when this man
enquired of me if the town was good for gridlers, I answered him very
pleasantly indeed, that there was nothing to complain of.
After breakfast, the next morning, my companion of the preceding day
proposed putting in a good eight hours' work, but I at once cut him
short saying that such a business was not in my line. Now, several
women were at this place; some of them were married, and some single,
and most of them made and sold fancy work of embroidery. After I had
spoken so decisively to my companion he had sat near to one of these
women, at the other end of the kitchen. This woman, who seemed to be
the wife of a knife and scissors grinder, had a little girl of about
seven years of age. "Yes," said this woman, in answer to some question
my companion had made, "you can have the kid all day; it's not the
first time, by a long way, for Mary Ann to be used by gridlers, and
she knows as well as you what's wanted of her." Not long after this
remark my companion and the woman's child left the kitchen together.
This I, subsequently, often saw done. Almost any woman, if she called
herself a true traveller, would lend her child for this purpose; the
woman or child, of course, deriving some part of the profit: so that
when a man is seen with one or more children, it is not always to be
granted that he is the father of them. These children are rarely
subjected to ill usage--except that of enforced tramping--but are more
often spoilt by indulgence, especially if they show early signs of
that cunning which is needed for their future, and which is the boast
of their parents.
What a merry lot of beggars were assembled here; and how busy they all
seemed to be, making articles for sale, and washing and mending their
clothes! two or three of them sitting shirtless during the process of
drying.
It has become a common expression to say "dirty tramp," or, "as dirty
as a tramp"; but this is not always true, except occasionally in the
large cities; although such a term may be applied morally to them all.
There is one species of tramp who wanders from workhouse to workhouse;
and this man, having every night to conform strictly to the laws of
cleanliness, is no less clean, and often cleaner, than a number of
people whose houses contain bath rooms which they seldom use. Another
species of tramp is proud of being a good beggar, who scorns the
workhouse, but who knows well that a clean appearance is essential to
his success. For this reason, any one that enters a common lodging
house can at once see what efforts are being made to this end. It
seems strange to say, but the dirtiest looking tramp is often the most
honest and respectable, for he has not the courage to beg either food
or clothes, nor will he enter the doors of a workhouse. I have seen
this so often the case that I would much prefer to believe a dirty
ragged tramp who might tell me that he had a good home six months
previous, than to believe his cleaner namesake, who seems so eager to
impart this information unsolicited. It is certainly the man who has
had a good home, and has been waited on by other hands, who soon
succumbs to a filthy condition, when it becomes necessary to wait on
himself by washing and patching his own clothes; and the higher his
former position has been the lower he sinks in the social strata.
It is no difficult matter to get company when travelling. The pedlar,
whom I have mentioned before, asked me if I was going towards
Coventry, and if I intended to do business on the road. To this
question I answered that such might be the case, but I could not say
for sure--at the same time knowing that it was very unlikely. "Come
along then," he said, "and do business if you feel inclined; but, I
warn you, it is a very poor road for a gridler." We started at once,
and, in the course of our journey I told him everything--my first
experience of gridling and my dislike to it, and how my wares had been
spoilt by the rain, which had prevented me, through having no stock,
nor money to buy it, from earning my living in a respectable manner as
a pedlar. "Of course," he said, "you have a pedlar's certificate?" I
answered him in the affirmative, and added that I had not earned one
penny with it up to that moment.
As we jogged along talking in this way, we came to a small village,
when the pedlar, stopping short, asked if I would like to help him to
do a little trade. Knowing that something had to be done, as I had but
twopence halfpenny in my pocket, I assured him that I would. Hearing
this he took two bundles of laces from his pack, leather and mohair,
and placed them in my hands, at the same time saying--"You work on
one side of the village and I'll attend to the other." I passed
several houses before I had the courage to knock at their doors, but
seeing him go calmly from door to door, I nerved myself to follow his
example, and was soon doing the same, and, as far as I could see, was
meeting with more success. This so encouraged me that I was soon
regretting that I had no more houses left on my side of the village.
But, instead of waiting patiently until he had done, I took a
desperate notion and went back to the houses which I had at first
passed. After this we jogged on towards Coventry, which we reached
that evening.
We worked Coventry together for four or five days, and the result was
nine shillings and some odd pence in my pocket. This pedlar was going
to spend a week or two with a brother in Birmingham, whom he had not
seen for a number of years. But, before we left Coventry, he persuaded
me to stock myself with three shillings' worth of stuff, and, said he,
"never let a day pass you without doing some business, however little;
and never allow your stock to get low." We reached Birmingham, and,
after he had shown and recommended a lodging house, he wished me
good-bye, with many hopes that we might meet again.
As usual, my first enquiry after I had settled for my lodgings, was
for the public library. This place I found so much to my liking, what
with its variety of journals, its number of papers, and so much
comfort and accommodation for its visitors--that business was entirely
out of the question until the third day, when I woke to the awkward
fact that my last three coppers were then being spent on a meal. At
this I made up my mind to hawk on the outskirts of Birmingham for a
month or more, so that my evenings might be enjoyed in its library.
But, apparently, I was not cut out for this kind of business. Hawking
required a perseverance which I certainly did not possess. For when a
person declined to make a purchase, instead of crying up the cheapness
of my wares, I walked away dumbfounded to the next house. Yes, the
success or ill success of this buying and selling was all a simple
matter of tongue. A big able-bodied fellow, with a persistent tongue,
can talk charity out of the people who indifferently pass the silent
blind man. Of course this business of hawking with a few cheap laces,
and a few packets of common pins or needles, was after all only
another name for begging, and it was well for us that the people knew
it, for they often paid for what they declined to receive. They knew
that these things were to be had much cheaper at a store. In
exoneration of this fraudulent selling, a man was expected to tell
some tale of distress. This I found difficulty in doing, except on
being asked direct questions; and the people would often stand after
refusing to purchase with their hands in their pockets ready to assist
on the first confession of distress. The number of times people have
called me back, after I have left their doors, and assisted me, has
often proved to me how they have waited to have their first feelings
of pity strengthened by some recital of poverty. No doubt there was
some sort of a living to be made in this way, providing a man talked
incessantly and went for hours from house to house, and from street to
street; and when he failed in the line of business to plead for the
sake of charity. It must have been over two hours and my takings had
amounted to ninepence, nearly all profit I admit. Looking at this
paltry amount I now reversed my former opinion as to the resources of
a large city, and came to the conclusion that the small country towns
and villages were after all more willing, if not better able, to
support me. Therefore, instead of returning to the city I took the
road towards Warwick, intending when I reached that town to use my
tongue to some purpose. And how many houses have I visited with this
same resolution, but, alas, many of the towns were passed through
without any one hearing the sound of my voice.