Part 16 (1/2)
”ON THE DEATH OF OLD BENNET, THE NEWS CRYER
”One evening, when the sun was just gone down, And I was walking thro' the noisy town, A sudden silence through each street was spread, As if the soul of London had been fled.
Much I enquired the cause, but could not hear, Till fame, so frightened, that she did not dare To raise her voice, thus whisper'd in my ear:-- Bennet, the prince of hawkers, is no more, Bennet, my _Herald_ on the British sh.o.r.e, Bennet, by whom, I own myself outdone, Tho' I a hundred mouths, he had but one, He, when the list'ning town he would amuse, Made _Echo_ tremble with his '_b.l.o.o.d.y news!_'
No more shall _Echo_, now his voice return, _Echo_ for ever must in silence mourn,-- Lament, ye heroes, who frequent the wars, The great proclaimer of your dreadful scars.
Thus wept the conqueror who the world o'ercame, Homer was waiting to enlarge his fame, Homer, the first of hawkers that is known, _Great News_ from Troy, cried up and down the town, None like him has there been for ages past, Till our stentorian Bennet came at last, Homer and Bennet were in this agreed, Homer was blind, and Bennet could not read!”
In our own days there has been legislation for the benefit of tender ears; and there are now penalties, with police constables to enforce them, against ”All persons blowing any horn or using any other noisy instrument, for the purpose of calling persons together, or of announcing any show or entertainment, or for the purpose of hawking, selling, distributing, or collecting any article, or of obtaining money or alms.”
These are the words of the Police Act of 1839; and they are stringent enough to have nearly banished from our streets all those uncommon noises which did something to relieve the monotony of the one endless roar of the tread of feet and the rush of wheels.
Mr. Henry Mayhew, in his admirable work of ”London Labour and London Poor,” writing in 1851, under the head ”Of the Sellers of Second Editions,” says:--
”I believe that there is not now in existence--unless it be in a workhouse and unknown to his fellows, or engaged in some other avocation, and lost sight of by them--any one who sold 'Second Editions' of the _Courier_ evening paper at the time of the Duke of York's Walcheren expedition, at the period of the battle of the Nile, during the continuance of the Peninsular war, or even at the battle of Waterloo. There were a few old men--some of whom had been soldiers or sailors, and others who have simulated it--surviving within these five or six years and some later, who 'worked Waterloo,' but they were swept off, I was told, by the cholera.”
[Ill.u.s.tration]
[Ill.u.s.tration: CLEAN YOUR HONOUR'S SHOES.
”Temper the foot within this vase of oil, And let the little tripod aid thy toil; On this methinks I see the walking crew, At thy request, support the miry shoe; The foot grows black that was with dirt embrown'd, And in thy pocket jingling halfpence sound.”
_Gay's ”Trivia.”_]
”About thirty years before the cry of 'Clean your boots, sir!' became familiar to the ears of the present generation of Londoners,” Mr. Charles Knight informs us that:--”In one of the many courts on the north side of Fleet-street, might be seen, somewhere about the year 1820, 'The last of the London shoe-blacks.' One would think that he deemed himself dedicated to his profession by Nature, for he was a Negro. At the earliest dawn he crept forth from his neighbouring lodging, and planted his tripod on the quiet pavement, where he patiently stood till noon was past. He was a short, large-headed son of Africa, subject, as it would appear, to considerable variations of spirits, alternating between depression and excitement, as the gains of the day presented to him the chance of having a few pence to recreate himself beyond what he should carry home to his wife and children. For he had a wife and children, this last representative of a falling trade; and two or three little woolly-headed _decrotteurs_ nestled around him when he was idle, or a.s.sisted in taking off the roughest of the dirt when he had more than one client. He watched, with a melancholy eye, the gradual improvement of the streets; for during some twenty or thirty years he had beheld all the world combining to ruin him. He saw the foot pavements widening; the large flag-stones carefully laid down; the loose and broken piece, which discharged a slushy shower on the unwary foot, and known to him and London chairmen as a '_Beau-trap_'[11] instantly removed: he saw the kennels diligently cleansed, and the drains widened: he saw experiment upon experiment made in the repair of the carriage-way, and the holes, which were to him as the 'old familiar faces' which he loved, filled up with a haste that appeared quite unnecessary, if not insulting. One solitary country shopkeeper, who had come to London once a year during a long life, clung to our sable friend; for he was the only one of the fraternity that he could find remaining, in his walk from Charing-cross to Cheapside.”
Hone, in ”_The Table Book_,” 1827, under an article on the Old London cries has:--”A s...o...b..ack; A boy, with a small basket beside him, brushes a shoe on a stone, and addresses himself to a wigged beau, who carries his c.o.c.ked hat under his left arm, with a crooked-headed walking stick in his left hand, as was the fas.h.i.+on among the dandies of old times. I recollect s...o...b..acks formerly at the corner of almost every street, especially in great thoroughfares. There were several every morning on the steps of St.
Andrew's church, Holborn, till late in the forenoon. But the greatest exhibition of these artists was on the site of Finsbury-square, when it was an open field, and a depository for the stones used in paving and street-masonry. There, a whole army of s...o...b..acks intercepted the citizens and their clerks on their way from Islington and Hoxton to the counting-houses and shops in the city, with 's...o...b..ack, your honour! Black your shoes, sir!'”
Each of them had a large, old tin-kettle, containing his apparatus, viz:--a capacious pipkin, or other large earthen-pot, containing the blacking, which was made of ivory-black, the coa.r.s.est moist sugar, and pure water with a little vinegar--a knife, two or three brushes, and an old wig. The old wig was an indispensable requisite to a s...o...b..ack; it whisked away the dust, or thoroughly wiped off the wet dirt, which his knife and brushes could not entirely detach; a rag tied to the end of a stick smeared his viscid blacking on the shoe, and if the blacking was ”real j.a.pan,” it shone. The old experienced shoe-wearers preferred an oleaginous, l.u.s.treless blacking. A more liquid blacking, which took a polish from the brush, was of later use and invention. n.o.body at that time wore boots except on horseback; and everybody wore breeches and stockings: pantaloons, or trousers, were unheard of. The old s...o...b..acks operated on the shoes while they were on the feet, and so dexterously as not to soil the fine white cotton stocking, which was at that time the extreme of fas.h.i.+on, or to smear the buckles, which were universally worn.
Latterly, you were accommodated with an old pair of shoes to stand in, and the yesterday's paper to read, while your shoes were cleaning and polis.h.i.+ng, and your buckles were whitened and brushed. When shoestrings first came into vogue, the Prince of Wales (Geo. IV.) appeared with them in his shoes, when immediately a deputation from the buckle-makers of Birmingham presented a pet.i.tion to his Royal Highness to resume the wearing of buckles, which was good-naturedly complied with. Yet, in a short time, shoestrings entirely superseded buckles. The first incursion on the s...o...b..acks was by the makers of ”Patent Cake Blacking” on sticks formed with a handle, like a small battledoor; they suffered a more fearful invasion from the makers of liquid blacking in bottles. Soon afterwards, when ”Day and Martin” manufactured the _ne plus ultra_ of blacking, private s...o...b..acking became general, public s...o...b..acks rapidly disappeared, and in [1827] they became extinct. The last s...o...b..ack that I remember in London sat under the covered entrance of Red Lion-court, Fleet-street within the last six years. This unfortunate, ”The Last of the London s...o...b..acks”--was probably the ”short, large headed son of Africa”
alluded to by Charles Knight, under the heading of ”Clean your honour's shoes,” in his ”History of London.”
In 1851, some gentlemen connected with the Ragged Schools determined to revive the brotherhood of boot cleaners for the convenience of the foreign visitors to the Exhibition, and commenced the experiment by sending out five boys in the now well-known red uniform. The scheme succeeded beyond expection; the boys were patronized by natives as well as aliens, and the s...o...b..ack Society and its brigade were regularly organized. During the exhibition season, about twenty-five boys were constantly employed, and cleaned no less than 100,000 pairs of boots. The receipts of the brigade during its first year amounted to 656. Since that time, thanks to the combination of discipline and liberality, the s...o...b..ack Society has gone on and prospered, and proved the Parent of other Societies. Every district in London now has its corps of s...o...b..acks, in every variety of uniform, and while the number of boys has increased from tens to hundreds, their earnings have increased from hundreds to thousands. Numbers of London waifs and strays have been rescued from idleness and crime. The Ragged School Union, and s...o...b..ack Brigades, therefore hold a prominent place among the indirectly preventive agencies for the suppression of crime: for since ignorance is generally the parent of vice, any means of securing the benefits of education to those who are hopelessly deprived of it, must operate in favour of the well-being of society.
[Ill.u.s.tration:
”'Tis education forms the common mind; Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined.”]
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HEARTH-STONE MERCHANT.]
”Hearth-stones! Do you want any hearth-stones? Now, my maids, here's your right sort--reg'lar good'uns, and no mistake--vorth two o'your shop harticles, and at half the price. Now my pretty von, lay out a _tanner_, and charge your missus a _bob_--and no cheating neither! the cook has always a right to make her market penny and to a.s.sist a poor cove like me in the bargain.
”They're good uns, you vill find-- Choose any, marm, as you prefer.
You look so handsome and so kind, I'm sure you'll be a customer.
Three halfpence, marm, for this here pair-- I only vish as you vould try 'em; I'm sure you'll say the price is fair-- Come marm, a penny if you'll buy 'em.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FLYING STATIONER, OTHERWISE PATTERER.]
”Here's tidings sad, for owld and young, Of von who liv'd for years by macing; And vos this werry morning hung, The Debtor's Door at Newgate facing.
”Here's his confession upon hoath, The vords he spoke ven he vos dying, His birth and eddycation both-- The whole pertic'lers--vell vorth the buying.
”Here's an account of robberies sad.
In vich he alus vos a hactor; You must to read the life be glad-- Of such a famous malefactor!
”How to the mob he spinn'd a yarn, And varn'd them from a course unproper, You may, vith all his history, larn-- For the small valley of a copper!”
”Now my kind-hearted, haffectionated and wery ready-money Christian-hearted, pious and hinfidel customers, here you have the last speech and dying vords, life, character, and behaviour of the hunfortunate malefactor that vas hexecuted this morning hopposit the Debtor's door in the Hold Bailey! together with a full confession of the hoffence vherevith he vos found guilty before a hupright Judge and a wery himpartial Jury!