‘Why is Mr. So-and-so, the busy tailor of this (or the next street) never at home?’
‘Because he’s always cutting out.’ I have the same questions for other tradesmen, and for gentlemen and ladies in this neighbourhood, and no gammon. All for a penny. Nuts to Crack, a penny. A pair of Nutcrackers to crack ’em, only one penny.”
Sometimes this man, who perhaps is the smartest in the trade, will take a bolder flight still, and when he knows the residence of any professional or public man, he will, if the allusion be complimentary, announce his name, or—if there be any satire—indicate by a motion of the head, or a gesture of the hand, the direction of his residence. My ingenuous, and certainly ingenious, informant obliged me with a few instances:—“In Whitechapel parish I’ve said—it ain’t in the print, it was only in the patter—‘Why won’t the Reverend Mr. Champneys lay up treasures on earth?’—‘Because he’d rather lay up treasures in heaven.’ That’s the reverend gentleman not far from this spot; but in this sheet—with nearly 100 engravings by the first artists, only a penny—I have other questions for other parsons, not so easy answered; nuts as is hard to crack. ‘Why is the Reverend Mr. Popjoy,’ or the Honourable Lawyer Bully, or Judge Wiggem,—and then I just jerks my thumb, sir, if it’s where I know or think such people live—‘Why is the Reverend Mr. Popjoy (or the others) like two balloons, one in the air to the east, and the ’tother in the air to the west, in this parish of St. George’s, Hanover-square?’ There’s no such question, and as it’s a sort of a ‘cock,’ of course there’s no answer. I don’t know one. But a gentleman’s servant once sung out: ‘’Cause he’s uppish.’ And a man in a leather apron once said: ‘He’s a raising the wind,’ which was nonsense. But I like that sort of interruption, and have said—‘You’ll not find that answer in the Nutcrackers,’ only a penny—and, Lord knows, I told the truth when I said so, and it helps the sale. No fear of any one’s finding out all what’s in the sheet before I’m out of the ‘drag.’ Not a bit. And you must admit that any way it’s a cheap pennorth.” That it is a cheap harmless pennyworth is undeniable.
The street-sale of conundrums is carried on most extensively during a week or two before Christmas; and on summer evenings, when the day’s work is, or ought to be, over even among the operatives of the slop employers. As the conundrum patterer requires an audience, he works the quieter streets, preferring such as have no horse-thoroughfare—as in some of the approaches from the direction of Golden-square to Regent-street. The trade is irregularly pursued, none following it all the year; and from the best information I could acquire, it appears that fifteen men may be computed as working conundrums for two months throughout the twelve, and clearing 10s. 6d. weekly, per individual. The cost of the “Nuts to Crack” (when new) is 5d. a doz. to the seller; but old “Nuts” often answer the purpose of the street-seller, and may be had for about half the price; the cost of the “Nut-crackers” 2s. to 2s. 6d. It may be calculated, then, that to realize the 10s. 6d., 15s. must be taken. This shows the street expenditure in “Nuts to Crack” and “Nut-crackers” to be 90l. yearly.
Of the Street-sellers of Comic Exhibitions, Magical Delusions, &c.
The street sale of “Comic Exhibitions” (properly so called) is, of course, as modern as the last autumn and winter; and it is somewhat curious that the sale of any humorous, or meant to be humorous sheet of engravings, is now becoming very generally known in the street sale as a “Comic Exhibition.” Among these—as I have before intimated—are many caricatures of the Pope, the Church of Rome, Cardinal Wiseman, the Church of England, the Bishop of London (or any bishop or dignitary), or of any characteristic of the conflicting creeds. In many of these, John Bull figures personally, and so does the devil.
The Comic Exhibition (proper) is certainly a very cheap pennyworth. No. 1 is entitled, “The Ceremonial of the Opening of the Great Exhibition, in 1851, with Illustrations of the Contributions of All Nations.” The “contributions,” however, are reserved for Nos. 2 and 3. Two larger “cuts,” at the head of the broad-sheet, may be considered geographical, as regards the first, and allegorical as regards the second. “Table Bay” presents a huge feeder (evidently), and the “Cape of Good Hope” is a spare man obsequiously bowing to the table and its guest in good hope of a dinner. Of the Sandwich Islands and of Hung(a)ry, the “exhibition” is of the same description. The second larger cut shows the Crystal Palace ascending by the agency of a balloon, a host of people of all countries looking on. Then comes the “Procession from Palace-yard to Hyde Park.” The first figure in this procession is described as “Beefeaters piping hot and well puffed out,” though there is but one beefeater, with head larger than his body and legs ridiculously small, (as have nearly all the sequent figures), smoking a pipe as if it were a trombone, duly followed by “Her Majesty’s Spiritual Body-guard” (five beefeaters, drunk), and by “Prince Albert blowing his own trumpet” (from the back of a very sorry steed), with “Mops and brooms,” and a “Cook-oo” (a housemaid and cook) as his supporters. Then follow figures, grotesque enough, of which the titles convey the character: “A famous Well-in-Town;” “Nae Peer-ye;” “Humorous Estimates” (Mr. Hume); “A Jew-d’ esprit” (Mr. D’Israeli); “An exemplification of Cupidity in Pummicestone” (Lord Palmerston); “Old Geese” and “Young Ducks” (old and angry-looking and young and pretty women); “Some gentlemen who patronise Moses in the Minories” (certainly no credit to the skill of a tailor); “A Jew Lion” (M. Jullien); “Fine high screams” (ice-creams) and “Capers” (chorister boys and ballet-girls); “Hey-day, you don’t take advantage here” (Joseph Ady); and “Something to give the milk a head” (a man with a horse’s head on a tray). These, however, are but a portion of the figures. The Comic Exhibition-sheet contains ninety such figures, independent of those in the two cuts mentioned as headings.
“Galleries of Comicalities,” or series of figures sometimes satirically, sometimes grotesquely given without any aim at satire, are also sold by the same parties, and are often announced as a “Threepenny gallery for a penny!—and dirt cheap at threepence. As big as a newspaper.”
Another broad-sheet sold this winter in the streets is entitled, “Optical and Magical Delusions,” and was announced as “Dedicated to and Prepared for his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales—the only original copy.” The engravings are six in number, and are in three rows, each accompanying engraving being reversed from its fellow: where the head is erect on one side, it is downward on the other. The first figure is a short length of a very plain woman, while on the opposite side is that of a very plain man, both pleased and smirking in accordance with a line below: “O what joy when our lips shall meet!” “Cat-a-gorical” is a spectacled and hooded cat. “Dog-matical” is a dog with the hat, wig, and cane once held proper to a physician. “Cross purposes” is an austere lady in a monster cap, while her opposite husband is pointing bitterly to a long bill. The purport of these figures is shown in the following
“DIRECTIONS—Paste all over the Back of the sheet, and put a piece of thick paper between, to stiffen it, then fold it down the centre, so that the marginal lines fall exactly at the back of each other, (which may be ascertained by holding it to the light)—press it quite flat—when cut separate they will make three cards—shave them close to the margin—then take a needlefull of double thread and pass it through the dot at each end of the card; cut the thread off about three inches long. By twisting the threads between your fore fingers and thumbs, so as to spin the card round backwards and forwards with a rapid motion, the figures will appear to connect and form a pleasing delusion.”