London Labour and the London Poor, Vol. 3

by Henry Mayhew

The second lad I chose from among the group of applicants was of a middle age, and although the noisiest when among his companions, had no sooner entered the room with me, than his whole manner changed. He sat himself down, bent up like a monkey, and scarcely ever turned his eyes from me. He seemed as nervous as if in a witness-box, and kept playing with his grubby fingers till he had almost made them white.

“They calls me ‘Curley.’ I come from Ireland too. I’m about fourteen year, and have been in this line now, sir, about five year. I goes about the borders of the country. We general takes up the line about the beginning of June, that is, when we gets a good summer. When we gets a good close dull day like this, we does pretty well, but when we has first one day hot, and then another rainy and could, a’ course we don’t get on so well.

“The most I sould was one day when I went to Uxbridge, and then I sould a gross and a half. I paid half-a-crown a gross for them. I was living with mother then, and she give me the money to buy ’em, but I had to bring her back again all as I took. I al’us give her all I makes, except sixpence as I wants for my dinner, which is a kipple of pen’orth of bread and cheese and a pint of beer. I sould that gross and a half I spoke on at a ha’penny each, and I took nine shillings, so that I made five and sixpence. But then I’d to leave London at three or four o’clock in the morning, and to stop out till twelve o’clock at night. I used to live out at Hammersmith then, and come up to St. Giles’s every morning and buy the papers. I had to rise by half-past two in the morning, and I’d get back again to Hammersmith by about six o’clock. I couldn’t sill none on the road, ’cos the shops wasn’t open.

“The flies is getting bad every summer. This year they a’n’t half so good as they was last year or the year before. I’m sure I don’t know why there aint so many, but they aint so plentiful like. The best year was three year ago. I know that by the quantity as my customers bought of me, and in three days the papers was swarmed with flies.

“I’ve got regular customers, where I calls two or three times a week to ’em. If I was to walk my rounds over I could at the lowest sell from six to eight dozen at ha’penny each at wonst. If it was nice wither, like to-day, so that it wouldn’t come wet on me, I should make ten shillings a-week regular, but it depends on the wither. If I was to put my profits by, I’m sure I should find I make more than six shillings a-week, and nearer eight. But the season is only for three months at most, and then we takes to boot-cleaning. Near all the poor boys about here is fly-paper silling in the hot weather, and boot-cleaners at other times.

“Shops buys the most of us in London. In Barnet I sell sometimes as much as six or seven dozen to some of the grocers as buys to sell again, but I don’t let them have them only when I can’t get rid of ’em to t’other customers. Butchers is very fond of the papers, to catch the blue-bottles as gets in their meat, though there is a few butchers as have said to me, ‘Oh, go away, they draws the flies more than they ketches ’em.’ Clothes-shops, again, is very fond of ’em. I can’t tell why they is fond of ’em, but I suppose ’cos the flies spots the goods.

“There’s lots of boys going silling ‘ketch ’em alive oh’s’ from Golden-lane, and Whitechapel, and the Borough. There’s lots, too, comes out of Gray’s-inn-lane and St. Giles’s. Near every boy who has nothing to do goes out with fly-papers. Perhaps it aint that the flies is falled off that we don’t sill so many papers now, but because there’s so many boys at it.”

The most intelligent and the most gentle in his demeanour was a little boy, who was scarcely tall enough to look on the table at which I was writing. If his face had been washed, he would have been a pretty-looking lad; for, despite the black marks made by his knuckles during his last fit of crying, he had large expressive eyes, and his features were round and plump, as though he were accustomed to more food than his companions.

Whilst taking his statement I was interrupted by the entrance of a woman, whose fears had been aroused by the idea that I belonged to the Ragged School, and had come to look after the scholars. “It’s no good you’re coming here for him, he’s off hopping to-morrow with his mother, as has asked me to look after him, and it’s only your saxpence he’s wanting.”

It was with great difficulty that I could get rid of this lady’s company; and, indeed, so great appeared to be the fear in the court that the object of my visit was to prevent the young gentlemen from making their harvest trip into the country, that a murmuring crowd began to assemble round the house where I was, determined to oppose me by force, should I leave the premises accompanied by any of the youths.