The public-house hawkers are never so prosperous as those who confine their calling to private houses; they are often invited to partake of drink; are not the most industrious class of hawkers, and, to use their own language, are more frequently hard up than those who keep away from tap-room selling. The profits of the small hawkers in public-houses vary considerably. Some of them, when they have earned a shilling or two, are content to spend it before they leave the tap-room, and so they lose both their stock and profit. I do not mean to infer that this is the case with the whole of the public-house hawkers, for some among them strive hard to better their condition, and occasionally succeed; but there are too many who are content to drawl out their existence by always suffering to-morrow to provide for itself. The man who gave me the routine of small hawkers’ business I found in a tap-room in Ratcliffe Highway. He was hawking tea-spoons, and all the stock he possessed was half-a-dozen. These he importuned me to purchase with great earnestness. He prayed of me to lay out a trifle with him. He had not taken a penny the whole day he said, and had nothing to eat. “What’s much worse for such as me,” he added, “I’m dying for a glass of rum.” I might have his tea-spoons, he told me, at any price. If I would but pay for a glass of rum for him they should be mine. I assured him some bread and cheese would do him more good, as he had not eaten anything that day; but still he would have the rum. With a trembling hand he threw the liquor down his throat, smacked his lips, and said “that there dram has saved my life.” A few minutes afterwards he sold his spoons to a customer for sixpence; and he had another glass of rum. “Now,” said he, “I’m all right for business; if I’d twopence more I could buy a dozen tea-spoons, and I should earn a ‘bob’ or two yet before I went to bed.” After this he grew communicative, and told me he was as good a hawker as there was in London, and he thought he could do more than any other man with a small stock. He had two or three times resolved to better himself, and had ‘put in the pin,’ meaning he had made a vow to refrain from drinking; but he had broken out again and gone on in his old course until he had melted the whole of his stock, though twice it had, during his sobriety, amounted to 5l., and was often worth between 2l. and 3l. It was almost maddening when he came to his senses, he said, to find he had acted so foolishly; indeed, it was so disheartening to discover all the result of his good resolutions dissipated in a moment, that he declared he never intended to try again. After having drunk out his stock, he would if possible commence with half-a-dozen Britannia metal tea-spoons; these cost him 6d., and would sell for 9d. or 1s. When one half-dozen were disposed of he would procure another, adding a knife, or a comb or two. If entirely destitute, he would stick a needle in a cork, and request to know of “the parties” assembled in some tap-room, if they wanted anything in the ironmongery line, though the needle was all the stock he had. This was done for the purpose of “raising the wind;” and by it he would be sure to obtain a glass or two of ale if he introduced himself with his “ironmongery establishment” among the sailors. Sometimes he would manage to beg a few pence, and then he would purchase a knife, pair of braces, or half-a-dozen tea-spoons, and begin to practise his trade in a legitimate manner. In answer to my inquiry he said he had not always been a hawker. His father had been a soldier, and he had worked in the armoury. His father had been discharged upon a pension, and he (the hawker) left the army with his parents. He had never enlisted while his father was a soldier, but he had since. His mother adopted the business of a hawker upon the receipt of his father’s first quarter’s pension; and then he used to accompany her on her rounds. With the pension and the mother’s exertions they managed to subsist tolerably well. “Being the only child, I was foolishly spoilt by my parents,” he said; “and when I was a very young man—15 or 16—I became a great trouble to them. At 18 I enlisted in the 7th Fusileers, remained in the regiment three months, and then, at my own request, was bought off. My mother sold off most of her stock of goods to raise the money (twenty pounds). When I returned home I could not think of trudging by my mother’s side, as I had been used to do when carrying the goods; nor did I feel inclined to exert myself in any way for my own support. I considered my mother had a right to keep me without my working, and she, poor thing, thought so too. I was not only supported in idleness, but my mother would give me many a shilling, though she could ill afford it, for me to spend with my companions. I passed most of my time in a skittle ground. I was not what you might term a skittle sharp, for I never entered into a plot to victimise any person, although I confess I have often bet upon the ‘greenness’ of those who were silly enough to make wagers that they could not possibly win. Sometimes, after I had lost the trifle supplied me by my mother, I would return, and be blackguard enough to assume the bully unless my demands on her for a further supply were attended to. Poor thing, she was very meek, and with tears in her eyes she would grant my request. I often weep when I think how I treated her” (here the tears trickled down the man’s cheek), “and yet, badly as I used her, in my heart I loved her very much. I got tired of the skittle grounds in consequence of getting into a hobble relative to a skittle swindle: some sharpers had obtained a flat; I was speculating in a small way, betting pennies and twopences in such a manner as always to win; I was practising upon the flat upon my own account, without having any connection with the others; they fleeced their dupe out of several pounds, and he made a row about it. The police interfered, and I was singled out as one of the gang; the principals were also apprehended; they got six months each, and I was accommodated with a month’s board and lodging at the expense of the nation. I thought this at the time unjust, but I was as culpable as any of them, for at the time I only regretted I had not more money to stake larger wagers, and envied the other parties who were making a better thing of the business than I was. When I came out of jail, my poor mother treated me as a martyr. She thought I was as innocent as a child. Shortly after my release from prison my father died, and with him went the pension of course. I was then obligated to do something for myself. A few shillings’ worth of goods only were procured—for my father’s funeral and my extravagances had sadly crippled my mother’s means. I behaved very well for a short time. My mother then was often ill, and she never recovered the death of my father. In about a year after my father died I lost my mother; our stock of goods had dwindled down to a very poor lot, and I was obligated to ask relief of the parish towards her funeral expenses. When all was over, the value of my goods and cash did not amount to 20s. Ten years have elapsed since my mother’s death, and I don’t think I have ever been, during the whole period, sober for a month together.”
While I sat in this tap-room, I counted in the course of an hour and a quarter,—4 hawkers of sheep’s trotters, who visited the place; 3 sellers of shrimps, pickled whelks, and periwinkles; 2 baked potato-sellers; 8 song-hawkers; the same number with lucifer matches; and 3 with braces, &c. Not one of these effected a sale.
The jewellery now sold in the streets far exceeds, both in cheapness and quality, what was known even ten years ago. Fifty years ago the jewellery itinerant trade was almost entirely, if not entirely, in the hands of Jews, who at any rate professed to sell really gold articles, and who asked large prices; but these traders have lost their command over this, as I have shown that they have over other street callings, as not a twelfth of the street-jewellers are now Jews. A common trade among such street and country itinerant jewellers was in large watch seals, the bodies of which were of lead, more or less thickly plated with gold, and which were unsaleable even as old metal until broken to pieces,—but not always saleable then. The street or itinerant trade was for a long time afterwards carried on only by those who were regularly licensed as hawkers, and who preferred “barter” or “swopping” to actual sale, the barter being usually for other and more solid articles of the goldsmith’s trade.
The introduction of “mosaic” and other cheap modes of manufacturing quasi gold ornaments, brought about considerable changes in the trade, pertaining, however, more to the general manufacture, than to that prepared for the streets.
The itinerants usually carry their wares in boxes or cases, which shut up close, and can be slung on the shoulder for conveyance, or hung round the neck for the purposes of sale. These cases are nearly all glazed; within them the jewellery is disposed in such manner as, in the street-seller’s judgment, is the most attractive. A card of the larger brooches, or of cameos, often forms the centre, and the other space is occupied with the shawl-pins, with their globular tops of scarlet or other coloured glass: rings, armlets, necklaces, a few earrings and ear-drops, and sometimes a few side-combs, small medals for keepsakes, clasps, beads, and bead-purses, ornamental buttons for dresses, gilt buckles for waist-belts, thimbles, &c., constitute the street jeweller’s stock-in-trade. The usual prices are from 2d. to 1s. 6d.; the price most frequently obtained for any article being 3d. It will be seen from the enumeration of the articles, that the stock is such as is required “for women’s wear,” and women are now almost the sole customers of the street-jewellers. “In my time, sir,” said one elderly street-trader, “or rather, when I was a boy, and in my uncle’s time—for he was in jewellery, and I helped him at times—quite different sorts of jewellery was sold, and quite different prices was had; what’s a high figure now was a low figure then. I’ve known children’s coral and bells in my uncle’s stock—well, I don’t know whether it was real coral or not—and big watch keys with coloured stones in the centre on ’em, such as I’ve seen old gents keep spinning round when they was talking, and big seals and watch-chains; there weren’t no guards then, as I remember. And there was plated fruit-knives—silver, as near as a toucher—and silver pencils (pencil-cases), and gilt lockets, to give your sweetheart your hair in for keepsakes. Lor’ bless you! times is turned upside down.”
The disposition of the street-stalls is somewhat after the same fashion as that in the itinerant’s box, with the advantage of a greater command of space. Some of the stalls—one in Tottenham-court Road, I may instance, and another in Whitechapel—make a great show.
I did not hear of any in this branch of the jewellery trade who had been connected with it as working jewellers. I heard of two journeymen watchmakers and four clockmakers now selling jewellery (but often with other things, such as eye-glasses) in the street, but that is all. The street mass selling jewellery in town and country are, I believe, composed of the various classes who constitute the street-traders generally.
Of the nature of his present trade, and of the class of his customers, I had the following account from a man of twelve years’ experience in the vending of street jewellery:—
“It’s not very easy to tell, sir,” he said, “what sells best, for people begins to suspect everything, and seems to think they’re done if they give 3d. for an agate brooch, and finds out it ain’t set in gold. I think agate is about the best part of the trade now. It seems a stone as is easy imitated. Cornelians, too, ain’t so bad in brooches—people likes the colour; but not what they was, and not up to agates. But nothing is up to what it once was; not in the least. Sell twice as much—when you can, which often stands over till to-morrow come-never—and get half the profit. I don’t expect very much from the Great Exhibition. They sends goods so cheap from Germany, they’ll think anything dear in London, if it’s only at German prices. I think it’s a mistake to fancy that the cheaper a jewellery article is the more you’ll sell of it. You won’t. People’s of opinion—at least that’s my notion of it—that it’s so common everybody’ll have it, and so they won’t touch it. It’s Thames water, sir, against beer, is poor low-priced jewellery, against tidy and fair-priced; but then the low-priced has now ruined the other sorts, for they’re all thought to go under the same umbrella,—all of a sort; 1s. or 1d. Why, as to who’s the best customers, that depends on where you pitches your pitch, or works your round, and whether you are known, or are merely a upstart. But I can tell you, sir, who’s been my best customers—and is yet, but not so good as they was—and that’s women of the town; and mostly (for I’ve tried most places) about Ratcliff Highway, Whitechapel, Mile-end-road, Bethnal-green, and Oxford-street. The sailors’ gals is the best of all; but a’most all of them is very particular, and some is uncommon tiresome. ‘I’m afeard,’ they says, ‘this colour don’t suit my complexion; it’s too light, or it’s too dark. How does that ring show on my finger?’ I’ve known some of the fat and fair ones—what had been younger, but would be older—say, ‘Let me have a necklace of bright black beads;’ them things shows best with the fat ’uns—but in gen’ral them poor creatures is bad judges of what becomes them. The things they’re the most particular of all in is necklaces. Amber and pearl sells most. I have them from 6d. to 1s. 6d. I never get more than 1s. 6d. Cornelian necklaces is most liked by children, and most bought for them. I’ve trusted the women of the town, and trust them still. One young woman in Shadwell took a fancy the t’other week for a pearl necklace, ‘it became her so,’ which it didn’t; and offered to pay me 6d. a week for it if I wouldn’t sell it away from her. The first week she paid 6d.; the second nothing; and next week the full tip, ’cause her Jack had come home. I never lost a halfpenny by the women. Yes, they pays you a fairish price, but nothing more. Sometimes they’ve beat me down 1d., and has said, ‘It’s all the money I has.’
“It’s not very long ago that one of them offered me a fine goold watch which I could have bought at any price, for I saw she knew nothing of what it was worth. I never do anything that way. I believe a very few in my line does, for they can’t give the prices the rich fences can. It’s common enough for them gals to ask any street-jeweller they knows how much a watch ought to pop for, or to sell for, afore they tries it on. But it isn’t they as tries it on, sir; they gets some respeckbel old lady, or old gent, to do that for them. I’ve had cigars and Cavendish of them; such as seamen had left behind them; you know, sir, I’ve never given money, only jewellery for it. Plenty of shopkeepers is glad to buy it of me, and not at a bad price. They asks no questions, and I tells them no lies. One reason why these gals buys free is that when the jewellery gets out of order or out of fashion, they can fling it away and get fresh, it’s so cheap. When I’ve had no money on a day until I has sold to these women, I’ve oft enough said, ‘God bless ’em!’ Earrings is hardly any go now, sir; nothing to what they was; they’re going out. The penny jewellery’s little good; it’s only children what buys, or gets it bought for them. I sell most of brooches from 3d. to 6d., very seldom higher, and bracelets—they calls them armlets now—at the same price. I buys all my goods at a swag-shop: there’s no other market. Watchguards was middling sale, both silver and goold, or washed white and washed yellow, and the swags made money in them; but instead of 1s., they’re not to be sold at a Joey now, watchguards ain’t, if a man patters ever so.”
I am informed that there are not less than 1000 individuals who all buy their jewellery at the London swag-shops, and sell it in the streets, with or without other articles, but principally without; and that of this number 500 are generally in London and its suburbs, including such places as Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich. Of these traders about one-tenth are women; and in town about three-fifths are itinerant, and the others stationary. One-half, or thereabouts, of the women, are the wives of street-sellers; the others trade on their own account. A few “swop” jewellery for old clothes, with either the mistress or the maids. Four or five, when they see a favourable opportunity, offer to tell any servant-maid her fortune. “‘Buy this beautiful agate brooch, my dear,’ the woman’ll say, ‘and I’ll only charge you 1s. 6d.’—a German thing, sir, costing her seven farthings one street-jeweller informed me,—‘and I’ll tell you your fortune into the bargain.’”
One “old hand” calculated, that when a street-jeweller could display 50s. worth of stock, he could clear, all the year round, 15s. a week. “People,” said this man, “as far as I’ve known the streets, like to buy of what they think is a respectable man, and seemingly well to do; they feel safe with him.” Those, however, who cannot boast so large a stock of jewellery as 50s. worth, may only clear 10s. instead of 15s. weekly. One trader thought that the average earnings of his fraternity might be taken at 12s. a week; another—and both judged from their own experience—thought 10s. 6d. was high enough. Calculating, then, at a weekly profit of 10s. 6d., and a receipt of 18s. per individual, we find 23,400l. expended in the street-trade, including the sales at Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich; where—both places being resorted to by pleasure-seekers and seamen—the trade is sometimes considerable; watches, which now are almost unknown in a regular street-trade, there forming an occasional part of it.
I have heard a manufacturer of Birmingham jewellery assert, that one pound of copper was sufficient to make 10l. worth of jewellery; consequently, the material to provide the unmanufactured stock in trade of a wholesale dealer in Birmingham jewellery, is not over expensive. It may be imagined then that the pedlars who hawk jewellery do not invest a very great capital in the wares they sell; there are some few, however, who have very valuable stocks of goods, pedlars though they be. This trade is principally pursued by Jews, and to a great extent (especially in a small way) by foreign Jews. The Jews are, I think, more attentive to the wants of their poorer brethren than other people; and instead of supplying them with trifling sums of money, which must necessarily soon be expended, they give them small quantities of goods, so that they may immediately commence foraging for their own support. Many of these poor Jews, when provided with their stock of merchandise, can scarcely speak a word of English, and few of them know but little respecting the value of the goods they sell; they always take care to ask a good price, leaving plenty of room for abatement. I heard one observe that they could not easily be taken in by being overcharged, for according what they paid for the article they fixed the price upon it. Some of these men, notwithstanding their scanty knowledge of the trade at starting, have eventually become excellent judges of jewellery; some of them, moreover, have acquired riches in it; indeed from the indomitable perseverance of the Hebrew race, success is generally the result of their untiring industry. If once you look at the goods of a Jew pedlar, it is not an easy matter to get out of his clutches; it is not for want of perseverance if he does not bore and tease you, until at length you are glad to purchase some trifle to get rid of him. One of my informants tells me he is acquainted with several Jews, who now hold their heads high as merchants, and are considered very excellent judges of the wares they deal in, who originally began trading with but a small stock of jewellery, and that a charitable donation. As well as Jews there are Irishmen who deal in such commodities. The pedlar generally has a mahogany box bound with brass, and which he carries with a strap hung across his shoulder; when he calls at a house, an inquiry is made whether there is any old silver or gold to dispose of. “I will give you a full price for any such articles.” If the lady or gentleman accosted seems to be likely to buy, the box is immediately opened and a tempting display of gold rings, chains, scent-boxes, lockets, brooches, breast-pins, bracelets, silver thimbles, &c., &c., are exposed to view. All the eloquence the pedlar can command is now brought into play. The jewellery is arranged about the persons of his expected customers to the best advantage. The pedlar says all he can think of to enhance their sale: he will chop and change for anything they may wish to dispose of—any old clothes, books, or useless lumber may be converted into ornaments for the hair or other parts of dress. The Irish pedlar mostly confines his visits to the vicinity of large factories where there are many girls employed; these he supplies with earrings, necklaces, shawl-pins, brooches, lockets, &c., which are bought wholesale at the following prices:—Earrings and drops at from 3s. 6d. to 12s. per dozen pairs; the 3d. earring is a neat little article says my informant, and those sold at 1s. each, wholesale, are gorgeous-looking affairs; many of the latter have been disposed of by the pedlars at 1l. the pair, and even a greater price. Necklaces are from 5s. to 1l. per dozen. Lockets may be purchased wholesale at from 2s. to 10s. per dozen; guard chains (German silver) are 4s. per dozen; gilt heavy-looking waistcoat chains 6s. per dozen: and all other articles are equally low in price. The pedlar jeweller can begin business “respectably” for two pounds. His box costs him 7s. 6d.; half-a-dozen pairs of earrings of six different sorts, 3s.; half-a-dozen lockets (various), 1s. 9d.; half-a-dozen guard chains, 2s.; half-a-dozen shawl brooches, 2s. 6d.; one dozen breast-pins (different kinds), 3s.; one dozen finger rings of various descriptions, 3s. 6d.; half-a-dozen brooches at 4d. each, 2s.; one dozen necklaces (a variety), at 6s.; three silver pencil-cases at 1s. 9d. each, 5s. 3d.; half-a-dozen waistcoat chains, 3s.; one silver toothpick, at 1s. 6d. These make altogether two pounds. If the articles are arranged with taste and seeming care (as if they were very valuable), with jeweller’s wadding under each, and stuck on pink cards, &c., while the finger rings are inserted in the long narrow velvet-lined groove of the box, and the other “valuables” well spread about the little portable shop—they may be made to assume a very respectable and almost “rich” appearance. Many who now have large establishments commenced life with much less stock than is here mentioned. The Jews, I do not think, continues my informant, are the best salesmen; and the fact of their being Israelites is, in many instances, a bar to their success; country people, especially, are afraid of being taken in by them. The importunities and appeals of the Hebrew, however, are far more urgent than any other tradesman; and they always wait where they think there’s the slightest chance of effecting a sale, until the door is slammed in their face. I believe there are not, at the present time, many (especially small traders) who deal exclusively in jewellery; they mostly add other small and light articles—such as fancy cutlery, side combs, &c. There may, at a rough guess, be 500 of them travelling the country; half the number are poor foreign Jews; a quarter are Jews, who have, perhaps, followed the same calling for years; and the remaining quarter, a mixture of Irish and English, with a small preponderance of Irishmen. All these “swop” their goods for old gold and silver, and frequently realize a large sum, by changing the base metal for the sterling article. Their goods are always sold as being gold or silver—If asked whether a particular article be gold, they reply “It’s jewellers’ gold;” “Is this ring gold?” inquires the customer, taking one from the box—“No, ma’am, I wouldn’t deceive you!” is the answer, “that is not gold; but here is one,” adds the pedlar (taking up one exactly of the same description, and which cost the same price) “which is of a similar shape and fashion, and the best jeweller’s gold that is made.” The profits of the pedlar-jewellers it is almost impossible to calculate, for they will sell at any price upon which the smallest amount of profit can be realized. The foreign Jews, especially, will do this, and it is not an unusual circumstance for one of these men to ask 5s. for an article which originally cost them 3d., and which they will eventually sell for 4d.
In London there are about 200 hawkers of jewellery, who visit the public-houses; but few of these have boxes—they invite customers by displaying some chains in their hands, or having one or two arranged in front of their waistcoats, while the smaller articles are carried in their waistcoat pockets. The class of persons who patronize the public-house hawkers are those who visit the tap-rooms of taverns, and countrymen in the vicinity of Smithfield upon market days, (one of the hawkers tells me, that they succeed better upon the hay-market days than at the cattle sales, for the butchers, they say, are too “fly” for them). Sailors are among their best customers, but the coster-girls are very fond of drop earrings and coral beads; the sailors, however, give the best prices of all. I am told that the quantity of old gold and silver which the country pedlars obtain in exchange for their goods is “astonishing;” and there have been occasions on which a pedlar has been enriched for life by one single transaction of barter; some old and unfashionable piece of jewellery, that they received for their goods, has been composed of costly stones, which had lain by for years, and of which the pedlar’s customer was unacquainted with the value. The more respectable jewellery pedlars put up at the better class of public-houses, and, even after their day’s travels are over, they still have an eye to business; they open the box upon the table of the tap-room where they are lodging, and, under the pretence of cleaning or arranging their goods, temptingly display their glittering stock. The bar-maid, kitchen-maid, the landlady’s daughter, or perhaps the landlady herself, admires some ornaments, which the pedlar declares would become them vastly. He hangs a necklace upon the neck of one of them; holds a showy earring and drop to the ear of another; facetiously inquires of the girls whether they are not likely to want something of this sort shortly—as he holds up first a wedding-ring, and then a baby’s coral; or else he exhibits a ring set with Turquoise, or pearls and small diamonds in a cluster, to the landlady, and tries it on her finger; and by such arts a sale that will cover his expenses is generally effected. There is one peculiarity these men have when bartering their goods. A worn-out ornament of jewellery is brought to them, and, although it be brass, the pedlar never attempts to undeceive the possessor, if he finds it is considered to be genuine. Of course he never gives cash for such articles; but he offers a large price in barter. “I will take 10s. for this ring, and allow you 5s. for the old one,” says the pedlar. It would never do to say the ornament was not gold; the customer bought it years ago for such, and no one ever disputed its being the precious metal; should our pedlar do so, he might as well shut up shop immediately. The lady would be angry and suspicious; neither would she believe him, but rather suspect that he wanted only to cheat her; consequently the pedlar barters, obtains the old ring, or some other article, and 5s., for his commodity; and though the article he has taken in exchange is worth only a few pence, he very likely profits to the amount of 200 per cent. upon the cash received. The pedlars of lesser consequence put up at humble private or public-houses, and some of them at the common lodging-houses. Those who have only small stocks confine their visits to farm-houses and villages.
The “card-counters,” or, as I have heard them sometimes called by street-sellers, the “small coins,” are now of a very limited sale. The slang name for these articles is “Jacks” and “Half Jacks.” They are sold to the street-people at only two places in London; one in Holborn, and the other at Black Tom’s (himself formerly a street-seller, now “a small swag”), in Clerkenwell. They are all made in Birmingham, and are of the size and colour of the genuine sovereigns and half sovereigns; but it is hardly possible that any one who had ever received a sovereign in payment, could be deceived by the substitution of a Jack. Those now sold in the streets are much thinner, and very much lighter. Each presents a profile of the Queen; but instead of the superscription “Victoria Dei Gratiâ” of the true sovereign, the Jack has “Victoria Regina.” On the reverse, in the place of the “Britanniarum Regina Fid. Def.” surrounding the royal arms and crown, is a device (intended for an imitation of St. George and the Dragon) representing a soldier on horseback—the horse having three legs elevated from the ground, while a drawn sword fills the right hand of the equestrian, and a crown adorns his head. The superscription is, “to Hanover,” and the rider seems to be sociably accompanied by a dragon. Round the Queen’s head on the half Jack is “Victoria, Queen of Great Britain,” and on the reverse the Prince of Wales’s feather, with the legend, “The Prince of Wales’s Model Half Sovereign.”
Until within these five or six years the gilt card-counters had generally the portraiture of the monarch, and on the reverse the legend “Keep your temper,” as a seasonable admonition to whist players. Occasionally the card-counter was a gilt coin, closely resembling a sovereign; but the magistracy, eight or nine years back, “put down” the sale of these imitations.
Under another head will be found an account of the use made of these sovereigns, in pretended wagers. A further use of them was to add to the heaps of apparent gold at the back of the table-keeper in a race booth, when gambling was allowed at Epsom, and the “great meetings.”
There are now only two men regularly selling Jacks in the streets. There have been as many as twelve. One of these street-sellers is often found in Holborn, announcing “30s. for 1d.! 30s. for 1d.! cheapest bargain ever offered; 30s. for 1d.!”
The Jacks cost, wholesale, 4s. 6d. the gross; the half Jacks 2s. 9d. The two are sold for 1d. If the sale be not brisk, the street-seller will give a ring into the bargain. These rings cost 1s. the gross, or the third part of a farthing each.
If there be, on the year’s average, only two street-sellers disposing of the Jacks, and earning 9s. a week—to earn which the receipts will be about 20s.—we find 104l. expended in the streets on these trifles.
Of medals the street sale is sometimes considerable, at others a mere nothing. When a popular subject is before the public, many of the general patterers “go to medals.” I could not learn that any of the present street-people vended medals in the time of the war; I believe there are none at present among the street folk who did so. I am told that the street sale in war medals was smaller than might reasonably have been expected. The manufacture of those articles in the Salamanca, Vittoria, and even Waterloo days, was greatly inferior to what it is at present, and the street price demanded was as often 6d. as a smaller sum. These medals in a little time presented a dull, leaden look, and the knowledge that they were “poor things” seems to have prevented the public buying them to any extent in the streets, and perhaps deterred the street-sellers from offering them. Those who were the most successful of the medal-sellers had been, or assumed to have been, soldiers or seamen.
Within the last eighteen years, or more, there has hardly been any public occurrence without a comparatively well-executed medal being sold in the streets in commemoration of it. That sold at the opening of London-bridge was, I am told, considered “a superior thing,” and the improvement in this art of manufacture has progressed to the present time. Within the last three years the most saleable medals, an experienced man told me, were of Hungerford Suspension (bridge), the New Houses of Parliament, the Chinese Junk, and Sir Robert Peel. The Thames Tunnel medals were at one time “very tidy,” as were those of the New Royal Exchange. The great sale is at present of the Crystal Palace; and one man had heard that there were a great many persons coming to London to sell them at the opening of the Great Exhibition. “The great eggs and bacon, I call it,” he said; “for I hope it will bring us that sort of grub. But I don’t know; I’m afraid there’ll be too many of us. Besides, they say we shan’t be let sell in the park.”
The exhibition medal is as follows:—
What the street medal-sellers call the “right-side”—I speak of the “penny” medal, which commands by far the greatest sale—presents the Crystal Palace, raised from the surface of the medal, and whitened by the application of aqua fortis. The superscription is “THE BUILDING FOR THE INTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION, LONDON, 1851.” On the “wrong side” (so called) is the following inscription, occupying the whole face of the medal:
THE CONSTRUCTION IS OF
IRON AND OF GLASS,
1848 FEET LONG.
ABOUT HALF IS 456 WIDE.
THE REMAINDER 408 FEET WIDE,
AND 66 FEET HIGH;
SITE, UPWARDS OF 20 ACRES.
COST £150,000.
JOSH. PAXTON, ARCHT.
The size of this medal is between that of a shilling and a half-crown.
A patterer, who used to sell medals on Sunday mornings in the park, informed me that he told his customers the Crystal Palace part was dead silver, by a new discovery making silver cheap; but for all that he would risk changing it for a four-penny bit!
The two-penny medal is after the same style, but the letters are more distinct. On my stating, to a medal-seller, that it was difficult to read the inscription on his “pennies,” he said, “Not at all, sir; but it’s your eyes is dazzled.” This was said quietly, and with a touch of slyness, and I have no doubt was the man’s “cut-and-dried” answer.
The patterer whom I have mentioned, told me, that encouraged by a tolerable sale and “a gathering of the aristocrats,” on a very fine Sunday in January or February—he could not remember which—he ventured upon 6 “sixpenny medals,” costing him 1s. 9d. He sold them all but one, which he showed me. It was exactly the size of a crown-piece. The Crystal Palace was “raised,” and of “dead silver,” as in the smaller medals. The superscription was the same as on the penny medal; but underneath the representation of the palace were raised figures of Mercury and of a naked personage, with a quill as long as himself, a cornucopia, and a bee-hive: this I presume was Industry. These twin figures are supporters to a medallion, crown-surmounted, of the Queen and Prince Albert: being also in “dead silver.” On the reverse was an inscription, giving the dimensions, &c., of the building.
The medals in demand for street-sale in London seem to be those commemorative of local events only. None, for instance, were sold relating to the opening of the Britannia Bridge.
The wholesale price of the medals retailed in the street at 1d. is 7s. the gross; those retailed at 2d. are 12s. the gross, but more than three-fourths of those sold are penny medals. They are all bought at the swag-shops, and are all made in Birmingham. It is difficult to compute how many persons are engaged in this street trade, for many resort to it only on occasions. There are, however, from 12 to 20 generally selling medals, and at the present time about 30 are so occupied: they, however, do not sell medals exclusively, but along with a few articles of jewellery, or occasionally of such street stationery as letter stamps and “fancy” pens, with coloured glass or china handles. A fourth of the number are women. The weather greatly influences the street medal trade, as rain or damp dims their brightness. One seller told me that the day before I saw him he had sold only four medals. “I’ve known the trade, off and on,” he said, “for about six years, and the greatest number as ever I sold was half-a-gross one Saturday. I cleared rather better than 3s. I sold them in Whitehall and by Westminster-bridge. There was nothing new among them, but I had a good stock, and it was a fine day, and I was lucky in meeting parties, and had a run for sets.” By a “run for sets,” my informant meant that he had met with customers who bought a medal of each of the kinds he displayed; this is called “a set.”
An intelligent man, familiar with the trade, and who was in the habit of clubbing his stock-money with two others, that they might buy a gross at a time, calculated that 15 medal sellers were engaged in the traffic the year through, and earned, in medals alone, 6d. a day each, to clear which they would take 6s. 6d. weekly, giving a yearly outlay of 253l. 10s. It must be remembered, to account for the smallness of the earnings, that the trade in medals is irregular, and the calculation embraces all the seasons of the trade.
On occasions when medals are the sole or chief articles of traffic, they are displayed on a tray, which is a box with a lid, and thus look bright as silver on the faded brown velvet, with which the box is often lined. Among the favourite pitches are Oxford-street, the approaches to London, Blackfriars, Westminster, and Waterloo-bridges, the railway stations, and the City-road.
Of small coins (proper) there is now no sale in the streets. When there was an issue of half-farthings, about seven years ago, the street-sellers drove a brisk trade, in vending them at four a penny, urging on the sale before the coins got into circulation, which they never did. “It’s not often,” said one patterer to me, “that we has anything to thank the Government for, but we may thank them for the half-farthings. I dare say at least 30 of us made a tidy living on them for a week or more; and if they wasn’t coined just to give us a spirt, I should like to know what they was coined for! I once myself, sir, for a lark, gave one to a man that swept a capital crossing, and he was in a thundering passion, and wanted to fight me, when I told him they was coined to pay the likes of him!”
There was afterwards a tolerable sale of the “new silver pennies, just issued from the Mint, three ha’pence each, or 7 for 6d.;” also of “genuine models of the new English florin, only 1d.:” both of these were fictitious.
This class is hardly known in the streets of London at present. Country fairs and races are a more fitting ground for the ring-seller’s operations. One man of this class told me that he had been selling rings, and occasionally medals, for wagers for this last fifteen years. “It’s only a so-so game just now,” he said; “the people get so fly to it. A many hold out their penny for a ring, and just as I suppose I’m a going to receive it, they put the penny into their pockets, and their thumb upon their nose. I wish I had some other game, for this is a very dickey one. I gives 3d. a-dozen for the rings at the swag shop; and sometimes sells a couple of dozen in a day, but seldom more. Saturday is no better day than any other. Country people are my best customers. I know them by their appearance. Sometimes a person in the crowd whispers to others that he bought one the other day and went and pawned it for 5s., and he’d buy another, but he’s got no money. I don’t ask for such assistance; I suppose it’s done for a lark, and to laugh at others if they buy. Women buy more frequently than any one else. Several times since I have been on this dodge, women have come back and abused me because the ring they bought for a penny was not gold. Some had been to the pawn shop, and was quite astonished that the pawnbroker wouldn’t take the ring in. I do best in the summer at races: people think it more likely that two sporting gents would lay an out of the way wager (as you know I always make out) then than at any other time. I have been interfered with at races before now for being an impostor, and yet at the same time the gamblers was allowed to keep their tables; but of course theirs was all fair—no imposition about them—oh no! I am considered one of the best patterers among our lot. I dare say there may be twenty on us all together, in town and country, on rings and sovereigns. Sometimes, when travelling on foot to a race or fair, I do a little in the Fawney dropping line;” (fawneys are rings;) “but that is a dangerous game, I never did it but two or three times. There were some got lagged for it, and that frightened me. In ring-dropping we pretend to have found a ring, and ask some simple-looking fellow if it’s good gold, as it’s only just picked up. Sometimes it is immediately pronounced gold: ‘Well it’s no use to me,’ we’ll say, ‘will you buy it?’ Often they are foolish enough to buy, and it’s some satisfaction to one’s conscience to know that they think they are a taking you in, for they give you only a shilling or two for an article which if really gold would be worth eight or ten. Some ring-droppers write out an account and make a little parcel of jewellery, and when they pick out their man, they say, ‘If you please, sir, will you read this for me, and tell me what I should do with these things, as I’ve just found them?’ Some people advise they should be taken to the police office—but very few say that; some, that they should be taken to the address; others, that they should be sold, and the money shared; others offer a price for them, stating that they’re not gold, they’re only trumpery they say, but they’ll give half-a-crown for them. It’s pleasant to take such people in. Sometimes the finder says he’s in haste, and will sell them for anything to attend to other business, and he then transfers his interest at perhaps 200 per cent. profit. This game won’t friz now, sir, it’s very dangerous. I’ve left it off long since. I don’t like the idea of quod. I’ve been there once.” Another plan of dropping rings is to write a letter. This is the style:—
“My dear Anne,
“I have sent you the ring, and hope it will fit.—Excuse me not bringing it. John will leave it with you.—You know I have so much to attend to.—I shall think every minute a year until the happy day arrives.
“Yours devotedly,
“James Brown.”
This love epistle containing the wedding-ring was most successful when it first came up, but the public now are too wide awake. According to another informant, the ring-dropping “lurk” is now carried on this way, for the old style is “coopered.” “A woman” he says, “is made up so as to appear in the family-way—pretty far gone—and generally with a face as long as a boy’s kite. Up she goes to any likely ken, where she knows there are women that are married or expect to get married, and commences begging. Then comes the tale of woe, if she can get them to listen—‘I’m in the family-way,’ she says, ‘as you can plainly see young ladies (this she says to the servants, and that prides them you know). My husband has left me after serving me in this way. I don’t know where he is, and am forced to solicit the ladies’ charity.’ Well, the servants will bring broken victuals and make a little collection among themselves for the ‘unprotected female;’ for which in return, with many thanks for their kindness, she offers her gold wedding-ring for sale, as she wants to get back to her suffering kids to give them something to eat, poor things, and they shall have the gold ring, she says, for half what it’s worth; or if they won’t buy it, will they lend 2s. or 3s. on it till she can redeem it, as she hasn’t been in the habit of pledging! The girls are taken off their guard (she not being in the habit of pledging is a choker for them) by the woman’s seeming simplicity, and there’s a consultation. One says to the other—‘Oh, you’ll want it, Mary, for John;’ and another, ‘No, you’ll want it first, Sally, for William.’ But the woman has her eye on the one as says the least, as the likeliest of all to want it, and so she says to the John and William girls, ‘Oh, you don’t want it; but here (touching the silent one), here’s a young lady as does,’ (that sweetens the servant girl up directly.) She says, ‘I don’t want it, bless you (with a giggle), but I’ll lend you a trifle, as you are in this state, and have a family, and are left like this by your husband—aint he cruel, Sally (she adds to her fellow-servant)?’ The money the ring-woman gets, sir, depends upon the servant’s funds; if it is just after quarter-day, she generally gets a tidy tip—if not, 4 or 5 bob. I’ve known one woman get 10s. and even 12s. this way. The ring is made out of brass gilt buttons, and stunning well: it’s faked up to rights, and takes a good judge even at this day to detect it without a test.”
“The best sort of rings for fawney dropping is the Belchers. They are a good thick looking ring, and have the crown and V. R. stamped upon them. They are 7d. a dozen. I takes my stand now, in my ring-selling, as if I was in a great hurry, and pulls out my watch. I used to have a real one, but now it’s a dummy. ‘Now, ladies and gentlemen,’ says I, ‘I am not permitted to remain more than ten minutes in one spot. I have rings to sell to decide a wager recently made between two sporting noblemen, to the effect that I do not sell a certain quantity of these rings in a given time, at a penny a piece. I can recommend the article as being well worth the money I ask for it, perhaps something more. I do not say they are gold; in fact, I must not say too much, as there is a person in this company watching my proceedings, and seeing that I do not remain more than ten minutes in this spot,’—here I always looks very hard at the most respectable and gentlemanly-looking person among my hearers, and sometimes gives him a wink, and sometimes a nod,—‘but if you should hear anything more about these rings, and you want to purchase, don’t be vexed if I am gone when you want me. The ten minutes has nearly expired; three minutes more; any more buyers? It makes no difference to me whether I sell or not—I get my pay all the same; but, if you take my advice, buy; and perhaps if you was to call at the sign of the Three Balls, as you go home, you may be agreeably surprised, and hear something to your advantage. Perhaps I have said too much. I have one minute more, before I close the establishment. After shutting the box, I dare not sell another in this spot, if you were to offer me 5l. for it; therefore, if you wish to purchase, now is your time.’ I make many a pitch, and do not sell a single ring; and the insults I receive used to aggravate me very much, but I do not mind them now, I’m used to it. The flyest cove among all us ring-sellers is little Ikey, the Jew. There were two used to work the game. They had a real gold ring, just like the ones they were selling, and they always used to pitch near a pawnbroker’s shop. Ikey’s pal would buy a ring for a penny, of the street-seller, and would then say, loud enough to be heard by the bystanders, ‘There’s a pawn shop—I’ll go and ask them to take it in.’ A crowd would follow him. He would enter the pawnbroker’s—present a real gold ring—obtain a loan of 5s., and would present the ticket to the bystanders, who would then buy very fast. When the pitch was over, Ikey’s pal would take the ring out of pawn, and away the two would go to work near some other pawnbroker’s. I have heard Ikey say they have pawned the ring thirty-five times in a day. I tried the same caper; but my pal cut with the gold ring the first day, and I’ve never had another go at that fake since.
“Before I commenced the jewellery line,” continued my candid informant, “a good many years ago, I used to hold horses about Bond-street. Afterwards I was taken as an errand boy at a druggist’s, was out of an errand one day and got 6d. for holding a gentleman’s horse, which kept me nearly an hour; when I went back to my master’s I was told I wasn’t wanted any more. I had been cautioned about stopping of errands two or three times before; however I didn’t like the situation, it was too confining. I next got a place as pot-boy, in Brick Lane. Here I was out one day gathering in the pots. I hung the strap of pots to a railing to have a game at chances (pitch and toss), somebody prigged my strap of pots, and I cut. A few weeks after I was grabbed for this, and got a month at the mill; but I was quite innocent of prigging—I was only careless. When I came out of prison, I went to Epsom races, thinking to get a job there at something or other. A man engaged me to assist him in ‘pitching the hunters.’ Pitching the hunters is the three sticks a penny, with the snuffboxes stuck upon sticks; if you throw your stick, and they fall out of the hole, you are entitled to what you knock off. I came to London with my master the pitcher-hunter, he went to a swag shop in Kent-street, in the Borough, to purchase a new stock. I saw a man there purchasing rings, this was little Ikey, the Jew; some days afterwards I saw him making a pitch, and selling very fast. I had fourpence in my pocket; went to Kent-street, to the swag shops, bought a dozen rings, and commenced selling them. I sold that day three dozen; that wasn’t bad considering that my toggery was very queer, and I looked anything but like one who would be trusted with ten pounds’ worth of gold rings. This wager between the two sporting noblemen has been a long time settling. I’ve been at it more than fifteen years. The origin of it was this here: when sovereigns were first coined, the Jew boys and others used to sell medals and card-counters upon particular occasions, the same as they do now, and shove them in a saucepan lid, with silver paper under them. Captain Barclay, and another of the same sort, bet a wager, that one of these Jew-boys could not dispose of a certain number of real sovereigns in a given time, supposing the Jew-boy cried out nothing more than ‘here’s sovereigns, only a penny a piece.’ The number he was to sell was 50 within the hour, and to take his station at London Bridge. The wager was made, the Jew-boy procured, and the sovereigns put into the pot lid. ‘Here are real sovereigns a penny a piece, who’ll buy?’ he cried; but he sold only a few. The number disposed of, within the hour, I have heard, was seventeen. Those who purchased, when they found that they had really bought sovereigns at a penny a piece, returned for more, but the salesman was gone. A good harvest was afterwards reaped among the Jews, who got up a medal something like a sovereign, and sold them in every quarter of London, for the Captain’s wager soon spread about everywhere. It’s a stale game now; it was so before my time, but I’ve heard the Jews talk about it. The second day I tried the ring dodge, I was a little more successful; indeed every day for some time exceeded the day before, for, as I improved in patter, my sales increased. My appearance, too, was improving. At one time I was a regular swell, sported white kid gloves, white choker, white waistcoat, black ribbon, and a quizzing glass. Some people used to chaff me, and cry out ‘there’s a swell.’ I never was saving, always spent my money as fast as I got it. I might have saved a goodish bit, and I wish I had now. I never had a wife, but I have had two or three broomstick matches, though they never turned out happy. I never got hold of one but what was fond of lush. I live in Westminster, at a padding-ken. I’d rather not tell you where, not that I’ve anything to fear, but people might think I was a nose, if anybody came after me, and they would crab me. I’d rather get something else to do if I could, but I think this is the best street game I could follow. I don’t believe any of the ring-sellers dispose of more than myself, except little Ikey; he now adds other articles, a silver thimble (he calls it), some conundrums, a song-book and a seal, and all for a penny. I tried the same thing, but found I could do just as well with the rings alone. We all expects to do great things during the Exhibition. I think all on us ought to be allowed to sell in the parks. Foreigners are invited to witness specimens of British Industry, and it’s my opinion they should see all, from the highest to the lowest. We did intend petitioning the Prince on the subject, but I don’t suppose it would be any go, seeing as how the slang coves” (the showmen), “have done so, and been refused.”
These articles were first introduced into general street sale about 10 years ago. They were then German made. The size was not much larger than that of a shilling, and to this tiny watch was appended as tiny a chain and seal. The street-price was only 1d., and the wholesale price was 8s. the gross. They were sold at eight of the swag-shops, all “English and foreign,” or “English and German” establishments. From the price it would appear that the profit was 4d. a dozen, but as the street-sellers had to “take the watches as they came,” the profit was but 3d., as a dozen watches in a gross had broken glasses, or were otherwise damaged and unsaleable. The supply of these watches was not equal to the demand, for when a case of them was received, “it could have been sold twice over.” One street-seller told me that he had sold 15 and even 16 dozen of these watches on a day, and that once on a Saturday night, and early on Sunday morning, he had sold 2 gross, or 24 dozen. Such, however, was not the regular sale; a “good week” was a profit of 15s.
About six years ago gilt watches of a very superior kind were sold in the streets in a different way. They were French made, and were at first vended at 1s. each. Some were displayed in case-boxes, fitted up with divisions, in which were placed the watches with the guard-chains, about three-quarters of a yard long, coiled round them. There were also two or three keys, one in the form of a pistol. The others were hung from a small pole, sometimes a dozen, and sometimes two, being so suspended, and they had a good glittering appearance in a bright light; this street fashion still continues. The street-sellers, however, are anxious not to expose these watches too much, as they are easily injured by the weather, and any stain or injury is irreparable. The shilling sale continued prosperously for about six weeks, and then the wholesale price—owing, the street-sellers were told at the swag-shops, to “an opposition in the trade in Paris,”—was reduced to 4s. 6d. the dozen, and the retail street-price to 6d. each. When the trade was “at its best” there were thirty men and twenty women selling these watches, all May, June, and July, and each clearing from 12s. to 20s. (but rarely the latter sum) a week. Last “season” there were for the same period about half the number of sellers mentioned, averaging a profit of about 15d. a day each, or 9s. a week. The cry is—“Handsome present for 6d. Beautiful child’s watch and chain, made of Peruvian metal, by working jewellers out of employ. Only 6d. for a handsome present.”
The vendors of these watches are the regular street-sellers, some of them being tolerably good patterers. One of these men, in the second year of the street-sale of watches, appeared one morning in an apron and sleeves, to which brass and copper filings were made to adhere, and he announced himself as an English working jeweller unemployed, offering his own manufactures for sale, “better finished and more solider nor the French.” The man’s sale was greatly increased. On the following day, however, four other English working jewellers appeared in Leicester-square and its approaches, each in besprinkled apron and sleeves, and each offering the productions of his own handicraft! The apron and sleeves were therefore soon abandoned.
Among the best “pitches,”—for the watch-sellers are not itinerant, though they walk to and fro—are the Regent’s-park, Leicester-square, the foot of London-bridge, and of Blackfriars-bridge, and at the several railway stations.
The principal purchasers, I was told by an intelligent patterer, who sometimes “turned his hand to the watches,” were “fathers and mothers,” he thought, “and them as wished to please such parties.”
Calculating that twenty-five persons now vend watches for twelve weeks in the year, and—as they are 10 per cent. cheaper than they were at the swag-shops—that each clears 8s. weekly, we find 360l. yearly expended in London streets in these toy watches.
The sellers of tins, who carry them under their arms, or in any way on a round, apart from the use of a vehicle, are known as hand-sellers. The word hand-seller is construed by the street-traders as meaning literally hand-seller, that is to say, a seller of things held or carried in the hand; but the term is clearly derived from the Scotch handsell, as in “handsell penny.” Handsell, according to Jamieson, the Scotch etymologist, means, (1) “The first money that a trader receives for goods; also a gift conferred at a particular season. (2) A piece of bread given before breakfast.” Ihre, the Gothic lexicographer, views the term handsell as having sprung from the Mæso-Gothic hunsla (sacrifice or offering). This is the same as the Anglo-Sax husl (the Eucharist), whence comes the English housel and unhouseled; and he considers the word to have originally meant a gift or offering of any kind. Hence, the hand-sellers of tin and other wares in the street, would mean simply those who offered such tin or other wares for sale. The goods they dispose of are dripping-pans (sometimes called “square pans”), sold at from 3d. to 18d., the 3d. pans being “6 inch,” and the 18d. “15 inch;” cullenders, 6d. to 9d.; hand-bowls, for washerwomen, 1s. (now a very small portion of the trade); roasting-jacks, with tin bodies, 6d. to 1s. 6d. (this used to be the best article for profit and ready sale in the trade, but “they are going out of date”); and the smaller articles of graters, &c.
The hand-sellers also trade in other articles which are less portable; the principal sale, however, is at “stands,” and there chiefly on a Saturday night, the greatest business-time of street-commerce! These less portable articles are tea-kettles, 10d. to 18d.; saucepans of all sizes, the smallest being the “open pints” at 2d. or 2½d. each (they cost them 20d. a dozen; it’s a bargain to get them at 18d.), and the largest the “nine quart;” but the kinds most in demand are the “three pints” and “two quarts,” sold at 6d. and 8d. There are also fish-kettles in this street-traffic, though to a very limited extent—“one fish-kettle,” I was told, “to four-and-twenty saucepans;” the selling price for the fish-kettles is 5s. and 3s. 6d. each; candlesticks are sold at 4d. to 1s.; and shaving-pots, 4d. A few tin things used to be sold at the mews, but the trade is now almost entirely abandoned. These were tins for singeing horses, 2s. 6d. each when first introduced, ten or twelve years ago, but now 1s., and stable lanterns, of punched tin, which cannot be sold now for more than 1s. each, though they cost 10s. per dozen at a tin-shop.
There are other tin articles vended in the streets, but they will be more properly detailed in my account of street-artisans, as the maker and the street-seller are the same individual. Among these are Dutch ovens, which are rarely offered now by those who purchase their goods at the tin-shops, as the charge there is 6d. “Why,” said a working tinman to me, “I’ve had 10d. many a week for making ovens, and the stuff found. It takes two plates of tin to make an oven, that’s 3d. at any tin-shop, before a minute’s labour is given to it, and yet the men who hawk their own goods sell their ovens regularly enough at 4d. It’s the ruin of the trade.” The tin-shops, I may observe, supply the artisans with the materials they require, as well as the ready-made articles, to the street-seller.
One of the largest street-stands “in tin” is in St. John-street, Clerkenwell, on Saturday evenings, but the proprietor pertains to the artisan class, though he buys some of his goods at the tin-shops.
The hand-sellers of tin are about 100 in number, and 60 of that number may be said to be wives and children of the remaining 40; as the majority of the itinerant vendors of tinware are married men with families. “Tins” are not a heavy carriage, and can very well be borne from house to house by women, while children sell such things as nutmeg-graters, pepper-boxes, extinguishers, and save-alls. Those who sell the larger tin articles in the streets are generally the makers of them. “A dozen years back or more, perhaps, there was,” I was informed, “some prime block-tin tea-pots sold in the streets; there’s none now. Metal’s druv out tin.”
Among the street tin-sellers I heard many complaints of the smallness, and the constantly diminishing rate of their earnings. “Our people has bad luck, too,” said one man, “or they isn’t wide awake. You may remember, sir, that a few weeks back, a new save-all came in, and was called candle-wedges, and went off well. It was a tin thing, and ought by rights to have been started by the tin-shops for us. But it was first put out by the swag-men at 3s. the gross. The first and second days the men were soon sold out. Them as could patter tidy did the best—I tried, but you see, sir, I’m no scholar. Well, they went at night to Mr. ——’s, in Houndsditch, I think it is, and he says, ‘I’m out of them, but I’ll have some in the morning.’ They goes in the morning, and the swag says: ‘O, I can’t afford ’em at three shillings, you can have ’em at four.’ He put 1s. exter on the gross, cause they sold, nothing else, sir; and a relation of mine heard the swag shopkeeper say, ‘Why, they’re cheap at four; Jim (the street-seller) there made 3s. 3d. on ’em yesterday. I ain’t a going to slave, and pay rent, and rates, and taxes, to make your fortens; it ain’t likely.’ You see, sir, they was sold at ½d. each, and cost ¼d., which is 3d. a dozen, and so the swag got a higher profit, while the poor fellows had to sell for less profit.”
From the most reliable information which I could acquire, it appears that these tin-sellers, taken altogether, do not earn above 6s. a week each, as regards the adult men, and half that as regards the children and women. To realize this amount, the adults must take 13s., and the women and children 7s., for the latter are less “priced down.” Thus, if we calculate an average receipt, per individual, of 10s. weekly, reckoning 100 sellers, we find a yearly expenditure on tins, bought in the street, of 2500l. The trade is greatest in the suburbs, and some men, who have become “known on their rounds,” supply houses, by order, with all the tins they require.
There is a branch of the tin-trade carried on in a way which I have shown prevailed occasionally among the costermongers, viz., the selling of goods on commission. This system is now carried on among all the parties who trade “from” swag-barrows.
The word “swag” which has been so often used in this work of late, is, like many other of the street-terms, of Scotch origin (as handseller, and busker). The Scotch word is sweg or swack, and means, according to Jamieson, a quantity, a considerable number, a large collection of any kind. (The root appears to be an ancient German term, sweig—a flock, a herd.) Hence a Swag Warehouse is a warehouse containing a large collection of miscellaneous goods; and a Swag Barrow, a barrow laden with a considerable assortment of articles. The slang term swag means booty, plunder—that is to say, the collection of goods—the “lot,” the “heap” stolen.
Of these swag-barrowmen, there are not less than 150, and the barrows are mostly the property of three individuals, who are not street-sellers themselves. One of these men has 50 barrows of his own, and employs 50 men to work them. The barrow proprietor supplies not only the vehicle, but the stock, and the men’s remuneration is 3d. in the 1s. on the amount of sales. Each article they sell is charged to the public 1d. The tin-wares of the swag-barrows are nutmeg-graters, bread-graters, beer-warmers, fish-slices, goblets, mugs, save-alls, extinguishers, candle-shades, money-boxes, children’s plates, and rattles. In addition to the tin-wares, the swag-barrows are stocked with brooches, rings, pot-ornaments, plates, small crockeryware, toys, &c., each article being also vended at 1d. The trade is so far stationary, that the men generally confine themselves to one neighbourhood, if not to one street. The majority of the swag-barrowmen have been costermongers, and nearly the whole have been engaged in street avocations all their lives. One man familiar with the trade thought I might state that the whole were of this description; for though there was lately a swag-barrowman who had been a tradesman in an extensive way, there was, he believed, no such exception at the present time. These barrowmen are nearly all uneducated, and are plodding and persevering men, though they make few exertions to better their condition. As the barrow and stock are supplied to them, without any outlay on their part, their faculties are not even sharpened, as among many of the costermongers, by the necessity of providing stock-money, and knowing how to bargain and buy to advantage. They have merely to sell. Their commission furnishes little or nothing more than the means of a bare subsistence. The great sale is on Saturday nights at the street-markets, and to the working people, who then crowd those places, and, as one said to me, “has a few pennies to lay out.” At such times as much as 3l. has been taken by a swag-barrowman. During the other days of the week their earnings are small. It is considered a first-rate week, and there must be all the facilities for street-trade afforded by fine weather, to take 2s. a day (clearing 6d.), and 3l. on a Saturday night. This gives the swag-barrowman a commission of 18s.; but I am informed, by competent persons, that the average of the weekly profits of these street-traders does not exceed 10s. a week. This shows a yearly receipt, by the men working the barrows, of 3900l. as their profit or payment, and a gross receipt of 11,700l. Of this large amount nearly two-thirds, I am assured, is expended on tin-wares.
The prime cost, at the tin-shops, of these wares, to the barrow proprietors, are 7s. and 7s. 6d. the gross, leaving from 1½d. to 2d. profit on every shilling, over the 3d. commission paid to the salesman. The tins are all made in London. The jewellery, and other stock of the swag-barrows, are bought at the general swag-shops, of which I have before spoken.
The following street-biography was communicated to me in writing. It is, I believe, a striking instance of the vicissitudes and privations to which a street-life is subject. It forms, moreover, a curious example of those moral contradictions which make the same individual at one time give way hopelessly to the force of circumstances, and at another resolutely control them.
“My object,” says my correspondent, “for writing this, what some folks no doubt will call a nonsensical epistle, is merely to show how much human nature is capable of enduring in the shape of privations. People in easy circumstances will scarcely credit what I am about to relate; and many of the poor will smile at what I have termed hardships, and at my folly in endeavouring to paint the misery I have endured, which will appear slight when compared to what they themselves have suffered.
“I am the son of a mechanic who was accidentally drowned some weeks previous to my birth. My mother, through industry and perseverance, endeavoured to support me and my sister till we arrived at the ages of 15 and 18, I being the younger. I entered a gentleman’s service as pantry-boy, where I continued until I considered myself competent to take a higher situation. Still a servant’s life was not the bent of my inclinations; martial music and viewing soldiers on parade made me think that a rifle was a more graceful tool than a toasting-fork. I resolved to serve his Majesty, and for that purpose enlisted in the 60th Rifles on the route for India, but Providence ordained it otherwise. On the afternoon on which I ’listed I fell by accident and broke my leg, and as I was not sworn in I was entitled to no pension. I was six months confined to my bed, and it was three years before I could go without my crutch. Grief for my misfortunes had borne my mother to an early grave, and I was left a cripple and destitute. Whether by design or accident I do not recollect, but I met with the lady (Lady M——) in whose service I first entered as pantry-boy; she took pity on my forlorn condition, and kindly invited me to her Mansion, where I remained until completely restored to health, but still crippled. After this I was employed painting and glazing, &c., and, considering myself competent to get my living in that line, I resolved to go to London—the theatre of all my misery to come, for I was disappointed. On reaching the metropolis my paint-brush was turned into a shovel, my paint-pot into a dust sieve, for I could only get employed by a man to work in a dust-yard at 10s. a week. From thence I went to a firm belonging to a friend at Beckenham, near Croydon, as working time-keeper, or foreman; but during a fair in that village I neglected to back the time, and being discharged was cast upon the world again with only 3s. in my pocket, which I eat and drank up, having no idea of street trading. Then came my trials; but having had sufficient food during the day, I did not feel much the effects of my first night in the streets. The next day I had no food, and towards dusk began bitterly to feel my situation; that night I slept, or rather lay, in an empty house. Towards noon of the next day I felt weak, and drank large quantities of water, for I had no particular desire for food. Passing by a shop where old clothes were offered for sale, I saw a man wretched in appearance disposing of an old vest for a few pence. I caught the malady and was instantly spoiled of my coat, having received in exchange for it 2s. and an old frock—such as are generally worn by waggoners or countrymen. I more than once smiled at my novel appearance. A penny loaf, a drink of water, and a threepenny lodging was the first assault upon my 2s. I regretted, however, the 3d. paid for my lodging, and determined not to risk another, for my bedfellows were so numerous, and of such teazing propensities, that they would not allow me to sleep; truly indeed is it said that ‘poverty makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows.’ At this time I formed an acquaintance with a man whose condition was similar to my own; he engaged to put me ‘fly to a dodge’ or two; an explanation from him was necessary to make me acquainted with the sense of his words, which I soon found simply meant artful manœuvres. One of these dodges was to snooze (a term for sleeping) in the Adelphi arches; I felt grateful for such a mark of disinterested friendship, and next day my friend and me fared sumptuously on the produce of my coat, and at night we repaired to the Arches in question, and there found a comfortable lodging in a hay-loft. I lay for some time, but did not sleep. I was several times addressed by my companion in an under tone, ‘Are you asleep,’ he whispered, ‘ain’t it a stunning dos?’ (which means a good bed). I was not in a mood for conversation, and made no reply; to silence him completely I affected to snore, and this had the desired effect. For a few minutes he was quite quiet, and then he commenced with great caution to unlace my boots, with a view to stealing them. I perceived his object, and immediately left my lodging and companion. I felt grieved and disappointed at the loss of one in whom I placed all confidence; but this time wisdom was purchased cheaply, inasmuch as I suffered no loss except that my money might have lasted me a little longer. The remainder of that night I strayed about the Strand and Charing-cross, after a drink of water; I took a seat on a curb surrounding the pump; many wretched beings came and seated themselves beside me, and a conversation ensued respecting their several destinations during the day. One proposed going to Hungerford-market to do a feed on decayed shrimps or other offal laying about the market; another proposed going to Covent-garden to do a ‘tightener’ of rotten oranges, to which I was humorously invited; I accepted the invitation, and proceeded with my new companion. I fared well; I filled my hat, took a seat, and made a most delicious breakfast. I remained strolling about the Garden all day, and towards evening was invited by my companions to a ‘dos’ in an open shed in Islington; this I declined, alleging that I had a lodging, but that night I slept amongst a heap of stones near the pillar at Charing-cross. I continued to attend the Garden for several weeks, subsisting entirely on the offal of that market. One day I took notice of a man there selling chestnut leaves; I enquired how he obtained them: he told me he plucked them from the trees without hindrance, and directed me to where I could obtain some. I went to a grove in the vicinity of Kilburn, and lay there all night. Next morning I found no leaves, so I returned disappointed to town, and on going through the market a woman employed me to carry a bushel of pears some little distance for her for a penny. I felt quite elevated in anticipation of such a treat as a penny loaf, but alas! I fell down under the weight of the fruit and poverty; my employer, however, kindly gave me the penny, though some of her pears were injured, and I had not taken them half the required distance. With the money I purchased a loaf, and sat on a stone near the pump in Covent Garden and began my meal. Here I soon had a companion, who after rincing a lettuce at the pump, began to devour it. I shared my loaf with him. ‘O God!’ said he, ‘what are we destined to suffer. I have escaped the bullets of the Carlists in Spain to die in the streets of London with hunger.’ I felt an interest in the poor fellow, who I discovered in the course of conversation had been a gentleman’s servant in his time; he assured me he had been living in the same way for several weeks as I myself had been. Towards night my companion asked me where I slept. I told him my different haunts, he told me I’d better go to the straw-yard with him; this was a place I had not yet heard of; it was the nightly refuge for the houseless poor. I accompanied him without hesitation; my confidence was not misplaced; I slept there several nights. Bread was distributed to us night and morning, and this was fortunate, for the Garden began to fail. In the course of conversation with some of the inmates of the Refuge, we found that we could obtain employment at stone-breaking; this we tried the next morning, and succeeded. We worked all day, and received 6d. each on leaving work. We then made up our minds to go to lodgings that we might have an opportunity of washing what were once shirts.