University of Virginia Library

OF STREET BOOK-AUCTIONEERS.

The sale of books by auction, in the streets, is
now inconsiderable and irregular. The "auc-
tioning" of books — I mean of new books — some
of which were published principally with a view
to their sale by auction, was, thirty to forty
years ago, systematic and extensive. It was not
strictly a street-sale. The auctioneer offered his
books to the public, nine cases out of ten, in
town, in an apartment (now commonly known
as a "mock-auction room"), which was so far
a portion of the street that access was rendered
easier by the removal of the door and window of
any room on a ground-floor, and some of the
bidders could and did stand in the street and
take part in the proceedings. In the suburbs —
which at that period were not so integral a portion
of the metropolis as at present — the book-auction
sales were carried on strictly in the open air, gene-
rally in front of a public-house, and either on a
platform erected for the purpose, or from a co-
vered cart; the books then being deposited in
the vehicle, and the auctioneer standing on a
sort of stage placed on the propped-up shafts.
In the country, however, the auction was often
carried on in an inn.

The works thus sold were generally standard
works. The poems were those of Pope, Young,
Thomson, Goldsmith, Falconer, Cowper, &c.
The prose writings were such works as "The
Pilgrim's Progress," "The Travels of Mr.
Lemuel Gulliver," "Johnson's Lives of the
Poets," "The Vicar of Wakefield," the most
popular of the works of Defoe, Fielding, and
Smollett, and "Hervey's Meditations among the
Tombs" (at one time highly popular). These
books were not correctly printed, they were
printed, too, on inferior paper, and the frontis-
piece — when there was a frontispiece — was often
ridiculous. But they certainly gave to the pub-
lic what is called an "impetus" for reading.
Some were published in London (chiefly by the
late Mr. Tegg, who at one time, I am told, him-
self "offered to public competition," by auction,
the works he published); others were printed in
Edinburgh, Aberdeen, Newcastle-upon-Tyne,
Ipswich, Bungay, &c.

One of my informants remembered being
present at a street-sale, about twenty or thirty
years ago; he perfectly remembered, however,
the oratory of the auctioneer, of whom he pur-
chased some books. The sale was in one of the
streets in Stoke Newington, a door or two from
a thoroughfare. My informant was there — as
he called it — "accidentally," and knew little of
the neighbourhood. The auctioneer stood at
the door of what appeared to have been a coach-
house, and sold his books, which were arranged
within, very rapidly: "Byron," he exclaimed;
"Lord Byron's latest and best po'ms. Sixpence!
Sixpence! Eightpence! I take penny bids
under a shilling. Eightpence for the poems
written by a lord — Gone! Yours, sir" (to my
informant). The auctioneer, I was told, "spoke
very rapidly, and clipped many of his words."
The work thus sold consisted of some of Byron's
minor poems. It was in the pamphlet form, and
published, I have no doubt, surreptitiously; for
there was, in those days, a bold and frequent
piracy of any work which was thought distaste-
ful to the Government, or to which the Court of
Chancery might be likely to refuse the protec-
tion of the law of copyright.

The auctioneer went on: "Coop'r — Coop'r!
Published at 3s. 6d., as printed on the back.
Superior to Byron — Coop'r's `Task.' No
bidders? Thank you, sir. One -and -six, —
your's, sir. Young — `Young's Night Thoughts.
Life, Death, and Immortality,' — great subjects.
London edition, marked 3s. 6d. Going! — last
bidder — two shillings — gone!" The purchaser
then complained that the frontispiece — a man
seated on a tombstone — was exactly the same as
to a copy he had of "Hervey's Meditations,"
but the auctioneer said it was impossible.

I have thus shown what was the style and
nature of the address of the street book-auc-
tioneer, formerly, to the public. If it were not
strictly "patter," or "pompous oration," it cer-
tainly partook of some of the characteristics of
patter. At present, however, the street book-
auctioneer may be described as a true patterer.

It will be seen from the account I have

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given, that the books were then really "sold
by auction" — knocked down to the highest
bidder. This however was, and is not always
the case. Legally to sell by auction, necessi-
tates the obtaining of a licence, at an annual
cost of 5l.; and if the bookseller conveys
his stock of books from place to place, a
hawker's licence is required as well, — which
entails an additional expenditure of 4l. The
itinerant bookseller evades, or endeavours to
evade, the payment for an auctioneer's licence,
by "putting-up" his books at a high price,
and himself decreasing the terms, instead of
offering them at a low price, and allowing the
public to make a series of "advances." Thus,
a book may be offered by a street-auctioneer at
half-a-crown — two shillings — eighteenpence — a
shilling — tenpence, and the moment any one
assents to a specified sum, the volume handed
to him; so that there is no competition — no
bidding by the public one in advance of ano-
ther. Auction, however, is resorted to as often
as the bookseller dares.

One experienced man in the book-stall trade
calculated that twenty years ago there might
be twelve book-auctioneers in the streets of
London, or rather, of its suburbs. One of
these was a frequenter of the Old Kent-road;
another, "Newington way;" and a third re-
sorted to "any likely pitch in Pimlico" — all
selling from a sort of van. Of these twelve,
however, my informant thought that there were
never more than six in London at one time, as
they were all itinerant; and they have gradually
dwindled down to two, who are now not half
their time in town. These two traders are
brothers, and sell their books from a sort of
platform erected on a piece of waste-ground, or
from a barrow. The works they sell are gene-
rally announced as new, and are often uncut.
They are all recommended as explanatory of
every topic of the day, and are often set forth
as "spicy." Three or four years ago, a gentle-
man told me how greatly he was amused with
the patter of one of these men, who was selling
books at the entrance of a yard full of caravans,
not far from the School for the Blind, Lambeth.
One work the street-auctioneer announced at
the top of his voice, in the following terms, as
far as a good memory could retain them: " `The
Rambler!' Now you rambling boys — now you
young devils, that's been staring those pretty
girls out of countenance — here's the very book
for you, and more shame for you, and perhaps
for me too; but I must sell — I must do busi-
ness. If any lady or gen'lman 'll stand treat
to a glass of brandy and water, `warm with,'
I'll tell more about this `Rambler' — I'm too
bashful, as it is. Who bids? Fifteen-pence —
thank'ee, sir. Sold again!" The "Rambler"
was Dr. Johnson's!

The last time one of my informants heard
the "patter" of the smartest of the two bro-
thers, it was to the following effect: "Here is
the `History of the Real Flying Dutchman,'
and no mistake; no fiction, I assure you, upon
my honour. Published at 10s. — who bids half-
a-crown? Sixpence; thank you, sir. Nine-
pence; going — going! Any more? — gone!"

A book-stall-keeper, who had sold goods to a
book-auctioneer, and attended the sales, told
me he was astonished to hear how his own
books — "old new books," he called them, were
set off by the auctioneer: "Why, there was a
vol. lettered `Pamphlets,' and I think there was something about Jack Sheppard in it, but it
was all odds and ends of other things, I know.
`Here's the real Jack Sheppard,' sings out the
man, `and no gammon!' The real edition — no
spooniness here, but set off with other interesting
histories, valuable for the rising generation and
all generations. This is the real Jack. This
will

"Then he went on: `Goldsmith's History of
England. Continued by the first writers of the
day — to the very last rumpus in the palace, and
no mistake. Here it is; genuine.' Well, sir,"
the stall-keeper continued, "the man didn't
do well; perhaps he cleared 1s. 6d. or a little
more that evening on books. People laughed
more than they bought. But it's no wonder
the trade's going to the dogs — they're not
allowed to have a pitch now; I shouldn't be
surprised if they was not all driven out of
London next year. It's contrary to Act of
Parliament to get an honest living in the streets
now-a-days."

A man connected with the street book-trade
considered that if one of these auctioneers
earned a guinea in London streets in the six
days it was a "good week." Half-a-guinea
was nearer the average, he thought, "looking
at the weather and everything." What amount
is expended to enable this street-dealer to earn
his guinea or half-guinea, is so uncertain, from
the very nature of an auction, that I can obtain
no data to rely upon.

The itinerant book-auctioneer is now con-
fined chiefly to the provincial towns, and espe-
cially the country markets. The reason for
this is correctly given in the statement above
cited. The street-auction requires the gather-
ing of so large a crowd that the metropolitan
police consider the obstruction to the public
thoroughfares warrants their interference. The
two remaining book-auctioneers in London
generally restrict their operations to the out-
skirts — the small space which fronts "the
George Inn" in the Commercial-road, and
which lays a few yards behind the main
thoroughfare, and similar suburban "retreats"
being favourite "pitches." The trade is, as
regards profits, far from bad — the books sold
consisting chiefly of those picked up in cheap
"lots" at the regular auctions; so that what
fetches 6d. in the streets has generally been
purchased for less than a penny. The average
rate of profit may be taken at 250l. per cent.
at the least. Exorbitant however as this re-
turn may appear, still it should be remembered

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that the avocation is one that can be pursued
only occasionally, and that solely in fine wea-
ther. Books are now more frequently sold in
the London streets from barrows. This change
of traffic has been forced upon the street-
sellers by the commands of the police — that
the men should "keep moving." Hence the
well-known light form of street conveyance is
now fast superseding not only the book-auc-
tioneer, but the book-stall in the London
streets. Of these book-barrowmen there is now
about fifty trading regularly in the metropolis,
and taking on an average from 3s. to 5s. 6d. a day.