London Labour and the London Poor, Vol. 1

by Henry Mayhew

I do not know any class of men who are more fond of the good things of this life than “cheap John;” his dinner, during a fair, is generally eaten upon the platform outside his van, where he disposes of his wares, and invariably consists of a joint of baked meat and potatoes—that is where they can get a dinner baked. As little time as possible is occupied in eating, especially if trade is good. At a hill fair (that is where the fair is held upon a hill away from a town), a fire is made behind the cart, the pot is suspended upon three sticks, and dinner prepared in the usual camp fashion. The wife or boy superintends this. Tea and coffee also generally find their way to their table; and if there’s no cold meat a plentiful supply of bacon, beef-steaks, eggs, or something in the shape of a relish, seem to be with “cheap John” indispensable. His man or boy (if John is unmarried) appears to be upon an equality with the master in the eating department; he is not allowanced, neither has he to wait until his superior has finished. Get it over as quick as you can seems to be the chief object. Perhaps from the circumstance of their selling guns, and consequently always having such implements in their possession, these men, when they have time on their hands, are fond of the sports of the field, and many a hare finds its way into the camp-kettle of “cheap John.” I need not say that they practise this sport with but little respectful feeling towards the Game-laws; but they are careful when indulging in such amusement, and I never heard of one getting into a hobble.

During the winter (since the “cheap John” has been obliged to become a licensed auctioneer), some of them take shops and sell their goods by auction, or get up mock-auctions. I have been told by them that sometimes its a better game than “han-selling.”

The commencement of the “cheap John’s” season is at Lynn in Norfolk; there is a mart there commencing 14th February, it continues fourteen days. After this, there is Wisbeach, Spalding, Grantham, and other marts in Norfolk and Lincolnshire; which bring them up to Easter. At Easter there are many fairs—Manchester, Knott Mill, Blackburn, Darlington, Newcastle, &c., &c. The “cheap Johns” then disperse themselves through different parts of the country. Hill-fairs are considered the best; that is cattle-fairs, where there are plenty of farmers and country people. Hirings for servants are next to them. It may appear curious, but Sheffield and Birmingham fairs are two of the best for the “cheap John’s” business in England. There are two fairs at each place during the year. Sheffield, at Whitsuntide and November; Birmingham, Whitsuntide and September. Nottingham, Derby, Leeds, Newcastle, Bristol, Glasgow—in fact, where the greatest population is, the chances for business are considered the best, and if I may judge from the number of traders in this line, who attend the largest towns, I should say they succeed better than in smaller towns.

If we calculate that there are 100 “cheap Johns” in London and in the country, and they are more or less itinerant, and that they each take 4l. per day for nine months in the year, or 24l. per week; this amounts to 2,400l. per week, or about 90,000l. in nine months. Supposing their profits to be 20 per cent., it would leave 18,000l. clear income. Say that during the winter there are seventy-five following the business, and that their receipts amount to 15l. each per week, this amounts to 13,500l. additional; and, at the rate of 20 per cent. profit, comes to 2,700l.,—making throughout the year the profits of the 100 “cheap Johns” 20,700l., or 207l. a man.

The “cheap Johns” seldom frequent the crowded thoroughfares of London. Their usual pitches in the metropolis are, King’s-cross, St. George’s-in-the-East, Stepney, round about the London Docks, Paddington, Kennington, and such like places.

The Crippled Street-seller of Nutmeg-graters.

I now give an example of one of the classes driven to the streets by utter inability to labour. I have already spoken of the sterling independence of some of these men possessing the strongest claims to our sympathy and charity, and yet preferring to sell rather than beg. As I said before, many ingrained beggars certainly use the street trade as a cloak for alms-seeking, but as certainly many more, with every title to our assistance, use it as a means of redemption from beggary. That the nutmeg-grater seller is a noble example of the latter class, I have not the least doubt. I have made all due inquiries to satisfy myself as to his worthiness, and I feel convinced that when the reader looks at the portrait here given, and observes how utterly helpless the poor fellow is, and then reads the following plain unvarnished tale, he will marvel like me, not only at the fortitude which could sustain him under all his heavy afflictions, but at the resignation (not to say philosophy) with which he bears them every one. His struggles to earn his own living (notwithstanding his physical incapacity even to put the victuals to his mouth after he has earned them), are instances of a nobility of pride that are I believe without a parallel. The poor creature’s legs and arms are completely withered; indeed he is scarcely more than head and trunk. His thigh is hardly thicker than a child’s wrist. His hands are bent inward from contraction of the sinews, the fingers being curled up and almost as thin as the claws of a bird’s foot. He is unable even to stand, and cannot move from place to place but on his knees, which are shod with leather caps, like the heels of a clog, strapped round the joint; the soles of his boots are on the upper leathers, that being the part always turned towards the ground while he is crawling along. His countenance is rather handsome than otherwise; the intelligence indicated by his ample forehead is fully borne out by the testimony as to his sagacity in his business, and the mild expression of his eye by the statements as to his feeling for all others in affliction.

“I sell nutmeg-graters and funnels,” said the cripple to me; “I sell them at 1d. and 1½d. a piece. I get mine of the man in whose house I live. He is a tinman, and makes for the street-trade and shops and all. I pay 7d. a dozen for them, and I get 12d. or 18d. a dozen, if I can when I sell them, but I mostly get only a penny a piece—it’s quite a chance if I have a customer at 1½d. Some days I sell only three—some days not one—though I’m out from ten o’clock till six. The most I ever took was 3s. 6d. in a day. Some weeks I hardly clear my expenses—and they’re between 7s. and 8s. a week; for not being able to dress and ondress myself, I’m obligated to pay some one to do it for me—I think I don’t clear more than 7s. a week take one week with another. When I don’t make that much, I go without—sometimes friends who are kind to me give me a trifle, or else I should starve. As near as I can judge, I take about 15s. a week, and out of that I clear about 6s. or 7s. I pay for my meals as I have them—3d. or 4d. a meal. I pay every night for my lodging as I go in, if I can; but if not my landlady lets it run a night or two. I give her 1s. a week for my washing and looking after me, and 1s. 6d. for my lodging. When I do very well I have three meals a day, but it’s oftener only two—breakfast and supper—unless of Sunday. On a wet day when I can’t get out, I often go without food. I may have a bit of bread and butter give me, but that’s all—then I lie a-bed. I feel miserable enough when I see the rain come down of a week day, I can tell you. Ah, it is very miserable indeed lying in bed all day, and in a lonely room, without perhaps a person to come near one—helpless as I am—and hear the rain beat against the windows, and all that without nothing to put in your lips. I’ve done that over and over again where I lived before; but where I am now I’m more comfortable like. My breakfast is mostly bread and butter and tea; and my supper, bread and butter and tea with a bit of fish, or a small bit of meat. What my landlord and landlady has I share with them. I never break my fast from the time I go out in the morning till I come home—unless it is a halfpenny orange I buy in the street; I do that when I feel faint. I have only been selling in the streets since this last winter. I was in the workhouse with a fever all the summer. I was destitute afterwards, and obliged to begin selling in the streets. The Guardians gave me 5s. to get stock. I had always dealt in tin ware, so I knew where to go to buy my things. It’s very hard work indeed is street-selling for such as me. I can’t walk no distance. I suffer a great deal of pains in my back and knees. Sometimes I go in a barrow, when I’m travelling any great way. When I go only a short way I crawl along on my knees and toes. The most I’ve ever crawled is two miles. When I get home afterwards, I’m in great pain. My knees swell dreadfully, and they’re all covered with blisters, and my toes ache awful. I’ve corns all on top of them.