University of Virginia Library

STATEMENT OF A PACKMAN.

Of the way of trading of a travelling-pedlar I had
the following account from one of the body. He
was well dressed, and a good but keen-looking
man of about thirty-five, slim, and of rather short
stature, with quick dark eyes and bushy whiskers,
on which it was evident no small culture was
bestowed. His manners were far from obtrusive
or importunate — to those whom he sought to
make customers — for I happened to witness a
portion of his proceedings in that respect; but he
had a quiet perseverance with him, which, along
with perfect civility, and something like deference,
might be the most efficient means of recommending
himself to the maid-servants, among whom lay
his chief customers. He showed a little of the
pride of art in describing the management of his
business, but he would not hear that he "pattered:"
he talked to his customers, he declared, as any
draper, who knew his business well, might talk
to his.

When I saw him, his pack, which he carried
slung over one shoulder, contained a few gown-
pieces of printed cotton, nearly all with pink
grounds; a few shawls of different sizes; and
three rolls firmly packed, each with a card-label
on which was neatly written, "French Merino.
Full duty paid. A.B. — L.F. — 18 — 33 — 1851.
French Chocolate." There were also six neat
paper packages, two marked "worked collars,"
three, "gauze handkerchiefs," and the other
"beautiful child's gros de naples." The latter
consisted of 4½ yards of black silk, sufficient for
a child's dress. He carried with him, moreover,
5 umbrellas, one inclosed in a bright glazed cover,
while from its mother-of-pearl handle hung a card
addressed — "The Lady's Maid, Victoria Lodge,
13s. 6d."

"This is a very small stock," he said, "to what
I generally carry, but I'm going on a country
round to-morrow, and I want to get through it
before I lay in a new one. I tell people that I
want to sell off my goods cheap, as they're too
good for country sale; and that's true, the better
half of it."

On my expressing some surprise that he should
be leaving London at this particular time, he
answered: —

"I go into the country because I think all the
hawkers will be making for town, and there'll be
plenty of customers left in the country, and fewer
to sell to them at their own places. That's my
opinion."

"I sell to women of all sorts. Smart-dressing
servant-maids, perhaps, are my best customers,
especially if they live a good way from any grand
ticketing shop. I sold one of my umbrellas to one
of them just before you spoke to me. She was
standing at the door, and I saw her give half a
glance at the umbrellas, and so I offered them.
She first agreed to buy a very nice one at 3s. 3d. (which should have been 4s.), but I persuaded her
to take one at 3s. 9d. (which should have been
4s. 6d.). `Look here, ma'am,' said I, `this
umbrella is much bigger you see, and will carry
double, so when you're coming from church of a
wet Sunday evening, a friend can have share of
it, and very grateful he'll be, as he's sure to have
his best hat on. There's been many a question
put under an umbrella that way that's made a
young lady blush, and take good care of her um-
brella when she was married, and had a house
of her own. I look sharp after the young and
pretty ladies, Miss, and shall as long as I'm a
bachelor.' `O,' says she, `such ridiculous non-
sense. But I'll have the bigger umbrella, be-
cause it's often so windy about here, and then
one must have a good cover if it rains as well.'

"That's my way, sir. I don't mind telling
that, because they do the same in the shops. I've
heard them, but they can't put love and sweet-
hearting so cleverly in a crowded shop as we can
in a quiet house. It's that I go for, love and
sweet-hearting; and I always speak to any smart
servant as if I thought she was the mistress, or as

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if I wasn't sure whether she was the mistress or
the lady's-maid; three times out of four she's
house-maid or maid of all work. I call her `ma'am,'
and `young lady,' and sometimes `miss.' It's no
use offering to sell until a maid has tidied herself
in the afternoon — not a bit. I should make a capi-
tal draper's shopman, I know, only I could never
bear the confinement. I never will hear such
words as `I don't want it,' or, `nothing more
to-day,' no more than if I was behind a counter.

"The great difficulty I have is to get a chance
of offering my goods. If I ring at a gate — for I
always go a little way out of town — they can see
who it is, and I may ring half an hour for nothing.
If the door's opened it's often shut again directly,
and I just hear `bother.' I used to leave a few
bills, and I do so still in some parts of the country,
with a list of goods, and `this bill to be called for'
printed at the bottom. But I haven't done that
in town for a long time; it's no good. People
seem to think it's giving double trouble. One
of the prettiest girls I ever saw where I called one
evening, pointed — just as I began to say, `I left a
bill and' — to some paper round a candle in a
stick, and shut the door laughing.

"In selling my gown-pieces I say they are such
as will suit the complexion, and such like; and I
always use my judgment in saying so. Why
shouldn't I? It's the same to me what colour I
sell. `It's a genteel thing, ma'am,' I'll say to a
servant-maid, `and such as common people won't
admire. It's not staring enough for them. I'm
sure it would become you, ma'am, and is very
cheap; cheaper than you could buy at a shop; for
all these things are made by the same manufacturers,
and sold to the wholesale dealers at the same price,
and a shopkeeper, you know, has his young men,
and taxes, and rates, and gas, and fine windows to
pay for, and I haven't, so it don't want much judg-
ment to see that I must be able to sell cheaper
than shopkeepers, and I think your own taste,
ma'am, will satisfy you that these here are elegant
patterns.'

"That's the way I go on. No doubt there's
others do the same, but I know and care little
about them. I have my own way of doing busi-
ness, and never trouble myself about other people's
patter or nonsense.

"Now, that piece of silk I shall, most likely,
sell to the landlady of a public-house, where I see
there's children. I shall offer it after I've got a
bit of dinner there, or when I've said I want a
bit. It's no use offering it there, though, if it isn't
cheap; they're too good judges. Innkeepers
aren't bad customers, I think, taking it alto-
gether, to such as me, if you can get to talk to
them, as you sometimes can at their bars. They're
generally wanting something, that's one step. I
always tell them that they ought to buy of men,
in my way, who live among them, and not of fine
shop-keepers, who never came a-near their houses.
I've sold them both cottons and linens, after such
talk as that. I live at public-houses in the
country. I sleep nowhere else.

"My trade in town is nothing to what it was
ten or a dozen years back. I don't know the
reason exactly. I think so many threepenny
busses is one; for they'll take any servant, when
she's got an afternoon, to a thoroughfare full of
ticket-shops, and bring her back, and her bundle
of purchases too, for another 3d. I shall cut it alto-
gether, I think, and stick to the country. Why,
I've known the time when I should have met from
half-a-dozen to a dozen people trading in my way
in town, and for these three days, and dry days too.
I haven't met one. My way of trading in the
country is just the same as in town. I go from
farm-house to farm-house, or call at gentlemen's
grand seats — if a man's known to the servants
there, it may be the best card he can play — and I
call at every likely house in the towns or vil-
lages. I only go to a house and sell a mistress or
maid the same sort of goods (a little cheaper,
perhaps), and recommend them in the same way,
as is done every day at many a fine city, and
borough, and West-End shop. I never say they're
part of a bankrupt's stock; a packfull would seem
nothing for that. I never pretend that they're
smuggled. Mine's a respectable trade, sir. There's
been so much dodging that way, it's been a great
stop to fair trading; and I like to go on the same
round more than once. A person once taken-in by
smuggled handkerchiefs, or anything, won't deal
with a hawker again, even though there's no
deception. But `duffing,' and all that is going
down fast, and I wish it was gone altogether. I
do nothing in tally. I buy my goods; and I've
bought all sorts, in wholesale houses, of course,
and I'd rather lay out 10l. in Manchester than
in London. O, as to what I make, I can't say it's
enough to keep me (I've only myself), and escape
the income-tax. Sometimes I make 10s. a week;
sometimes 20s.; sometimes 30s.; and I have made
50s.; and one week, the best I ever did, I made
as much as 74s. 6d. That's all I can say."

Perhaps it may be sufficiently accurate to com-
pute the average weekly earnings of a smart
trader like my informant, at from 21s. to 25s. in London, and from 25s. to 30s. in the country.