The Cries of London: Exhibiting Several of the Itinerant Traders of Antient and Modern Times

In Short

This volume serves as both an art portfolio and a social history, documenting the "itinerant traders" who once defined the streets of London. Through a series of detailed etchings and accompanying anecdotes, it preserves the figures of the watchman, the rat-catcher, the gingerbread-nut seller, and the simpler. By blending historical research with the author’s own sketches from life, the work creates a vital, tactile record of a laboring class that was already beginning to fade from the city’s bustling thoroughfares by the early nineteenth century.

The Story

The work opens by establishing its purpose: to catalog the diverse trades that once filled the air of London with their distinctive cries. The author, a man deeply embedded in the antiquarian world, approaches his subject with a sense of urgency. He recognizes that the rapid modernization of the city, driven by new infrastructure like the New River water system and more vigilant police oversight, is systematically erasing the traditional figures of the street.

The arc of the book follows a trajectory from the distant, formal past—represented by the ancient watchman, bellman, and corpse-bearer—into the vibrant, messy reality of the author’s own time. Each chapter acts as a frozen moment in an urban narrative. We see the evolution of the hackney coachman, whose posture and gear changed as he transitioned from riding like a postilion to sitting upon a box, and we learn of the "Duffers" who once preyed on country visitors before the authorities cleared them from the corners.

As the narrative progresses, the focus shifts toward the marginalized and the eccentric. We meet individuals like Israel Potter, who cries "Old chairs to mend" while actually scouring the streets for scraps of food, and Daniel Clarey, an Irish veteran of the sea who turned to selling gingerbread-nuts by lottery after losing a leg in battle. The author does not shy away from the darker corners of these trades, describing the danger of "Food and Raiment Alley" where thieves might sell a man back his own stolen handkerchief within minutes.

The later sections reach toward the fringes of the city, examining the "Simplers"—men and women who spent their days foraging for medicinal herbs and snails in the marshes of Croydon before walking miles to sell their goods in the London markets. The text concludes by pulling back the curtain on the lives of these street figures, acknowledging that while they were the daily companions of the Londoner, their existence was often a harsh, precarious struggle. The postscript serves as a final act of preservation, identifying various characters—some former merchants reduced by misfortune, others professional beggars—whose portraits the author captured in his wider studies of the city. By documenting these individuals, the book ensures that even those who left no written legacy are etched into the memory of the capital.

How It Unfolds

Establishing the foundation The author begins by grounding the work in historical context, citing Shakespeare and early records to prove the antiquity of street trades. He argues that the city’s growth necessitated the "Town Crier," whose function was to serve as a broadcast system for the lost and the for-sale.

The shift toward observation Moving away from rare woodcuts and ancient prints, the author transitions to his own sketches made from life. He provides meticulous details on the gear and habits of laborers, from the way a coachman holds his whip to the specific method of transferring patterns onto Staffordshire ware.

The human portraits The narrative leans into specific character studies, detailing the wit, survival strategies, and physical appearances of London’s street-dwellers. These portraits highlight the ingenuity required to live on the edge of the law and the economy.

Reflecting on the decline The book closes with notes on the disappearance of these trades as public policy and changing social norms take hold. The postscript adds a final layer of documentation, cataloging the lives of individuals like Anne Siggs and Samuel Horsey, cementing their place as fixtures of the city’s history.

The People

Central to the work is the author himself, a man driven by the desire to "sketch from the life" those who would otherwise be forgotten. He acts as the bridge between the reader and a cast of characters who live by their wits.

There is the "Flying Pudding Man," Eglington, who gains fame not just for his wares but for his smart dress and presence at every public event, from fights on the Scrubs to executions at Tyburn. His success highlights the entrepreneurial spirit of the street. Contrastingly, Israel Potter represents the quiet struggle of the aged poor; his cry is a facade for his true goal of securing a meal. Then there is Daniel Clarey, whose resilience after losing a leg defines him; he uses humor and a lottery system to maintain his independence. Finally, the "Simplers"—specifically the women returning from market—are depicted as a distinct, hardened class of people whose daily endurance of heavy burdens and weather marks them as perhaps the most resilient figures in the city.

In Its Own Voice

"It will easily be perceived how much superior the latter are to the former."

The author notes the artistic and historical advantage of drawing his subjects from the life rather than relying on antique, often stylized prints.

"The floors were not wetted, but rubbed dry, even until they bore a very high polish, particularly when it was the fashion to inlay staircases and floors of rooms with yellow, black, and brown woods."

In describing the "Buy a Brush" vendor, he explains the domestic habits of a bygone era.

"When this man was asked what particular event he recollected, his information was principally confined to the Elegies he had sold."

The author reveals the limited but specialized memory of a vendor whose life revolved entirely around the songs and news he hawked.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an exploration of the visibility of labor. It asks how a city remembers its own inhabitants. The author’s fascination with the "itinerant" nature of these workers suggests a deeper argument: that the pulse of London is found not in its palaces, but in the people who navigate its spaces with a basket, a cry, or a trade. It touches upon the fragility of status—how a former fishmonger becomes a nut-seller—and the brutal efficiency of urban progress. It is a quiet, persistent argument that to understand a city, one must look at the bottom of the social ladder, where the most honest account of daily survival is written.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in social history, urban geography, or the evolution of common trades will find this a fascinating, if sometimes demanding, companion. The book offers a tactile, granular view of London that histories of monarchs and politics rarely touch. It feels less like a dry academic text and more like an intimate, illustrated diary of a vanished world.

However, the reader should be prepared for the author’s Victorian sensibilities and the occasionally disjointed structure common to nineteenth-century collections. The prose is precise and descriptive, yet it carries the period’s sometimes jarringly detached attitude toward the poverty of its subjects. You are looking at a society that is both deeply class-conscious and surprisingly egalitarian in its fascination with the "character" of its poor. What stays with you long after closing the book is not the grand architecture or the history of the buildings, but the image of the "Flying Pudding Man" or the weather-worn face of a woman simpler, reminding you that history is, ultimately, an accumulation of individual lives lived in the open air. It is a rewarding read for anyone who wants to see the past with a clearer, more human focus.