According to the returns of the coal market for the last few years,
there has been imported into London, on an average, 3,500,000 tons
of sea-borne coal annually. Besides this immense supply, the various
railways have lately poured in a continuous stream of the same
commodity from the inland districts, which has found a ready sale
without sensibly affecting the accustomed vend of the north country
coals, long established on the Coal Exchange.
To the very poor the importance of coal can be scarcely estimated.
Physiological and medical writers tell us that carbonaceous food is
that which produces heat in the body, and is therefore the fuel of the
system. Experience tells us that this is true; for who that has had
an opportunity of visiting the habitations of the poor--the dwellers
in ill-furnished rooms and garrets--has not remarked the more than
half-starved slop needle-woman, the wretched half-naked children of the
casually employed labourer, as the dock-man, or those whose earnings
are extorted from them by their employers, such as the ballast-man,
sitting crouched around the smouldering embers in the place where the
fire ought to be? The reason of this is, because the system of the
sufferer by long want of food has been deprived of the necessary
internal heat, and so seeks instinctively to supply the deficiency by
imbibing it from some outward source. It is on this account chiefly,
I believe, that I have found the ill-paid and ill-fed workpeople
prize warmth almost more than food. Among the poorest Irish, I have
invariably found them crowding round the wretched fire when they had
nothing to eat.
The census returns of the present year (according to the accounts
published in the newspapers) estimate the number of the inhabitants of
London at 2,363,141, and the number of inhabited houses as 307,722.
Now if we take into consideration that in the immense suburbs of
the metropolis, there are branching off from almost every street,
labyrinths of courts and alleys, teeming with human beings, and that
almost every room has its separate family--for it takes a multitude of
poor to make one rich man--we may be able to arrive at the conclusion
that by far the greater proportion of coals brought into London are
consumed by the poorer classes. It is on this account of the highest
importance, that honesty should be the characteristic of those engaged
in the vend and distribution of an article so necessary not only to the
comfort but to the very existence of the great masses of the population.
The modes in which the coals imported into London are distributed to
the various classes of consumers are worthy of observation, as they
unmistakably exhibit not only the wealth of the few, but the poverty
of the many. The inhabitants of Belgravia, the wealthy shopkeepers,
and many others periodically see at their doors the well-loaded waggon
of the coal merchant, with two or three swarthy “coal-porters” bending
beneath the black heavy sacks, in the act of laying in the 10 or 20
tons for yearly or half-yearly consumption. But this class is supplied
from a very different quarter from that of the artizans, labourers, and
many others, who, being unable to spare money sufficient to lay in at
once a ton or two of coals, must have recourse to other means. To meet
their limited resources, there may be found in every part, always in
back streets, persons known as coal-shed men, who get the coals from
the merchant in 7, 14, or 20 tons at a time, and retail them from 1/4
cwt. upwards. The coal-shed men are a very numerous class, for there is
not a low neighbourhood in any part of the city which contains not two
or three of them in every street.
There is yet another class of purchasers of coals, however, which I
have called the ‘very poor,’--the inhabitants of two pairs back--the
dwellers in garrets, &c. It seems to have been for the purpose of
meeting the wants of this class that the street-sellers of coals have
sprung into existence. Those who know nothing of the decent pride which
often lingers among the famishing poor, can scarcely be expected to
comprehend the great boon that the street-sellers of coals, if they
could only be made honest and conscientious dealers, are calculated
to confer on these people. “I have seen,” says a correspondent, “the
starveling child of misery, in the gloom of the evening, steal timidly
into the shop of the coal-shed man, and in a tremulous voice ask, as if
begging a great favour, for _seven pound of coals_. The coal-shed man
has set down his pint of beer, taken the pipe from his mouth, blowing
after it a cloud of smoke, and in a gruff voice, at which the little
wretch has shrunk up (if it were possible) into a less space than
famine had already reduced her to, and demanded--‘Who told you as how
I sarves seven pound o’ coal?--Go to Bill C---- he may sarve you if he
likes--I won’t, and that’s an end on ’t--I wonders what people wants
with seven pound o’ coal.’ The coal-shed man, after delivering himself
of this enlightened observation, has placidly resumed his pipe, while
the poor child, gliding out into the drizzling sleet, disappeared in
the darkness.”
The street-sellers vend any quantity at the very door of the purchaser,
without rendering it necessary for them to expose their poverty to the
prying eyes of the neighbourhood; and, as I have said were the street
dealers only honest, they would be conferring a great boon upon the
poorer portion of the people, but unhappily it is scarcely possible
for them to be so, and realize a profit for themselves. The police
reports of the last year show that many of the coal merchants, standing
high in the estimation of the world, have been heavily fined for using
false weights; and, did the present inquiry admit of it, there might
be mentioned many other infamous practices by which the public are
shamefully plundered in this commodity, and which go far to prove
that the coal trade, _in toto_, is a gigantic fraud. May I ask how it
is possible for the street-sellers, with such examples of barefaced
dishonesty before their eyes, even to dream of acting honestly? If
not actually certain, yet strongly suspecting, that they themselves
are defrauded by the merchant, how can it be otherwise than that they
should resort to every possible mode of defrauding their customers, and
so add to the already almost unendurable burdens of the poorest of the
poor, who by one means or other are made to bear all the burdens of the
country?
The usual quantity of coals consumed in the poorest rooms, in which
a family resides, is 1/2 cwt. per week in summer, and 1 cwt. do. in
winter, or about 2 tons per annum.
The street sale of coals was carried on to a considerable extent during
the earlier part of the last century, “small coalmen” being among the
regular street-traders. The best known of these was Tom Britton, who
died through fright occasioned by a practical joke. He was a great
fosterer of a taste for music among the people; for, after hawking his
coals during the day, he had a musical gathering in his humble abode
in the evening, to which many distinguished persons resorted. This is
alluded to in the lines, by Hughes, under Tom Britton’s portrait, and
the allusion, according to the poetic fashion of the time being made by
means of a strained classicality:--
“Cyllenius so, as fables tell, and Jove,
Came willing guests to poor Philemon’s grove.”
The trade seems to have disappeared gradually, but has recently been
revived in another form.
Some few years ago an ingenious and enterprising costermonger, during
a “slack” in his own business, conceived the idea of purchasing some
of the refuse of the coals at the wharfs, conveying them round the
poorer localities of his beat, in his ass- or pony-cart, and vending
them to “room-keepers” and others, in small quantities and at a reduced
rate, so as to undersell the coal-shed men, while making for himself a
considerable profit. The example was not lost upon his fraternity, and
no long time had elapsed before many others had started in the same
line; this eventually took so much custom from the regular coal-shed
men, that, as a matter of self-defence, those among them who had a
horse and cart, found it necessary to compete with the originators of
the system in their own way, and, being possessed of more ample means,
they succeeded, in a great measure, in driving the costers out of the
field. The success of the coal-shed men was for a time so well followed
up, that they began by degrees to edge away from the lanes and alleys,
extending their excursions into quarters somewhat more aristocratic,
and even there establishing a trade amongst those who had previously
taken their ton or half ton of coals from the “brass-plate merchant,”
as he is called in the trade, being a person who merely procures orders
for coals, gets some merchant who buys in the coal market to execute
them in his name, and manages to make a living by the profits of these
transactions. Some of this latter class consequently found themselves
compelled to adopt a mode of doing their business somewhat similar, and
for that purpose hired vans from the proprietors of those vehicles,
loaded them with sacks of coals, drove round among their customers,
prepared to furnish them with sacks or half sacks, as they felt
disposed. Finally, many of the van proprietors themselves, finding that
business might be done in this way, started in the line, and, being in
general men of some means, established it as a regular trade. The van
proprietors at the present time do the greater part of the business,
but there may occasionally be seen, employed in this traffic, all sorts
of conveyances, from the donkey-cart of the costermonger, or dock
labourer, the latter of whom endeavours to make up for the miserable
pittance he can earn at the rate of fourpence per hour, by the profits
of this calling, to the aristocratic van, drawn along by two plump,
well-fed horses, the property of a man worth 800_l._ or 900_l._
The van of the street-seller of coals is easily distinguished from
the waggon of the regular merchant. The merchant’s waggon is always
loaded with sacks standing perpendicularly; it is drawn by four
immense horses, and is driven along by a gaunt figure, begrimed with
coal-dust, and “sporting” ancle boots, or shoes and gaiters, white, or
what ought to be white, stockings, velvet knee-breeches, short tarry
smock-frock, and a huge fantail hat slouching half-way down his back.
The street-seller’s vehicle, on the contrary, has the coals shot into
it without sacks; while, on a tailboard, extending behind, lie weights
and scales. It is most frequently drawn by one horse, but sometimes
by two, with bells above their collars jingling as they go, or else
the driver at intervals rings a bell like a dustman’s, to announce his
approach to the neighbourhood.
The street-sellers formerly purchased their coals from any of the
merchants along the river-side; generally the refuse, or what remained
after the best had been picked out by “skreening” or otherwise; but
always taking a third or fourth quality as most suitable for their
purpose. But since the erection of machinery for getting coals out
of the ships in the Regent’s Canal basin, they have resorted to that
place, as the coals are at once shot from the box in which they are
raised from the hold of the ship, into the cart or van, saving all the
trouble of being filled in sacks by coal porters, and carried on their
backs from the ship, barge, or heap, preparatory to their being emptied
into the van; thus getting them at a cheaper rate, and consequently
being enabled to realize a greater profit.
Since the introduction of inland coals, also, by the railways, many of
the street-sellers have either wholly, or in part, taken to sell them
on account of the lower rate at which they can be purchased; sometimes
they vend them unmixed, but more frequently they mix them up with “the
small” of north country coals of better quality, and palm off the
compound as “genuine Wallsend direct from the ship:” this (together
with short weights) being, in fact, the principal source of their
profit.
It occasionally happens that a merchant purchases in the market a cargo
of coals which turns out to be damaged, very small, or of inferior
quality. In such cases he usually refuses to take them, and it is
difficult to dispose of them in any regular way of trade. Such cargoes,
or parts of cargoes, are consequently at times bought up by some of the
more wealthy van proprietors engaged in the coal line, who realize on
them a great profit.
To commence business as a street-seller of coals requires little
capital beyond the possession of a horse and cart. The merchants in
all cases let street-sellers have any quantity of coals they may
require till they are able to dispose of them; and the street-trade
being a ready-money business, they can go on from day to day, or from
week to week, according to their pre-arrangements, so that, as far as
the commodity in which they deal is concerned, there is no outlay of
capital whatever.
There are about 30 two-horse vans continually
engaged in this trade, the price of each van
being 70_l._ This gives £2100
100 horses at 20_l._ each 1200
160 carts at 10_l._ each 1600
160 horses at 10_l._ each 1600
20 donkey or pony carts, value 1_l._ each 20
20 donkeys or ponies at 1_l._ 10_s._ each 30
Making a total of 210 vehicles continually
employed, which, with the horses, ----
&c., may be valued at 6550
This sum, with the price of 210 sets
of weights and scales, at 1_l._ 10_s._ per set 315
----
Makes a total of £6865
This may be fairly set down as the gross amount of capital at present
employed in the street-sale of coals.
It is somewhat difficult to ascertain correctly the amount of coals
distributed in this way among the poorer classes. But I have found
that they generally take two turns per day; that is they go to the
wharfs in the morning, get their vans or carts loaded, and proceed
on their various rounds. This first turn usually occupies them till
dinner-time, after which they get another load, which is sufficient to
keep them employed till night. Now if we allow each van to carry two
and a half tons, it will make for all 150 tons per day, or 900 tons per
week. In the same manner allowing the 160 carts to carry a ton each,
it will give 320 tons per day, or 1920 tons per week, and the twenty
pony carts half a ton each, 40 tons per day, or 240 tons per week,
making a total of 3060 tons per week, or 159,120 tons per annum. This
quantity purchased from the merchants at 14_s._ 6_d._ per ton amounts
to 115,362_l._ annually, and sold at the rate of 1_s._ per cwt., or
1_l._ per ton, leaves 5_s._ 6_d._ per ton profit, or a total profit of
43,758_l._, and this profit divided according to the foregoing account
gives the subjoined amounts, viz.:--
To each two-horse van regularly employed
throughout the year, a profit of £429 0
To each one-horse cart, ditto, ditto, 171 12
To each pony cart, ditto, ditto, 121 12
From which must, of course, be made the necessary deductions for the
keep of the animals and the repair of vehicles, harness, &c.
The keep of a good horse is 10_s._ per week; a pony 6_s._ Three horses
can be kept for the price of two, and so on; the more there are, the
less cost for each.
The localities where the street-sellers of coals may most frequently
be met with, are Blackwall, Poplar, Limehouse, Stepney, St. George’s
East, Twig Folly, Bethnal Green, Spitalfields, Shoreditch, Kingsland,
Haggerstone, and Islington. It is somewhat remarkable that they are
almost unknown on the south side of the Thames, and are seldom or never
to be encountered in the low streets and lanes in Westminster lying
contiguous to the river, nor in the vicinity of Marylebone, nor in any
place farther west than Shoreditch; this is on account of the distance
from the Regent’s Canal basin precluding the possibility of their
making more than one turn in the day, which would greatly diminish
their profits, even though they might get a higher price for their
commodity.
It may be observed that the foregoing statement in figures is rather
under the mark than otherwise, as it is founded on the amount of coals
purchased at a certain rate, and sold at a certain profit, without
taking into account any of the “dodges” which almost all classes of
coal dealers, from the highest to the lowest, are known to practise,
so that the rate of profit arising from this business may be fairly
supposed to amount to much more than the above account can show in
figures.
I received the following statement from a person engaged in the street
traffic:--
“I kept a coal-shed and greengrocer’s shop, and as I had a son grown
up, I wanted to get something for him to do; so about six years ago,
having a pony and cart, and seeing others selling coals through the
street, I thought I’d make him try his hand at it. I went to Mr.
B----’s, at Whiting’s wharf, and got the cart loaded, and sent my son
round our own neighbourhood. I found that he soon disposed of them, and
so he went on by degrees. People think we get a great deal of profit,
but we don’t get near as much as they think. I paid 16_s._ a ton all
the winter for coals and sold them for a shilling a hundred, and when
I came to feed the horse I found that he’ll nearly eat it all up. A
horse’s belly is not so easy to fill. I don’t think my son earns much
more now, in summer, than feeds the horse. It’s different in winter;
he does not sell more nor half a ton a day now the weather’s so warm.
In winter he can always sell a ton at the least, and sometimes two,
and on the Saturday he might sell three or four. My cart holds a ton;
the vans hold from two to three tons. I can’t exactly tell how many
people are engaged in selling coals in the street, but there are a
great many, that’s certain. About eight o’clock what a number of carts
and vans you’ll see about the Regent’s Canal! They like to get away
before breakfast, because then they may have another turn after dinner.
There’s a great many go to other places for coals. The people who have
vans do much better than those with the carts, because they carry so
much that they save time. There are no great secrets in our business;
we haven’t the same chance of ‘doing the thing’ as the merchants have.
They can mix the coals up as they like for their customers, and sell
them for best; all we can do is to buy a low quality; then we may lose
our customers if we play any tricks. To be sure, after that we can go
to parts where we’re not known. I don’t use light weights, but I know
it’s done by a good many, and they mix up small coals a good deal, and
that of course helps their profits. My son generally goes four or five
miles before he sells a ton of coals, and in summer weather a great
deal farther. It’s hard-earned money that’s got at it, I can tell you.
My cart is worth 12_l._; I have a van worth 20_l._ I wouldn’t take
20_l._ for my horse. My van holds two tons of coals, and the horse
draws it easily. I send the van out in the winter when there’s a good
call, but in the summer I only send it out on the Saturday. I never
calculated how much profit I made. I haven’t the least idea how much is
got by it, but I’m sure there’s not near as much as you say. Why, if
there was, I ought to have made a fortune by this time.” [It is right
I should state that I received the foregoing account of the profits of
the street trade in coals from one practically and eminently acquainted
with it.] “Some in the trade have done very well, but they were well
enough off before. I know very well I’ll never make a fortune at
anything; I’ll be satisfied if I keep moving along, so as to keep out
of the Union.”
As to the habits of the street-sellers of coals, they are as various
as their different circumstances will admit; but they closely resemble
each other in one general characteristic--their provident and careful
habits. Many of them have risen from struggling costermongers, to be
men of substance, with carts, vans, and horses of their own. Some of
the more wealthy of the class may be met with now and then in the
parlours of respectable public houses, where they smoke their pipes,
sip their brandy and water, and are remarkable for the shrewdness
of their remarks. They mingle freely with the respectable tradesmen
of their own localities, and may be seen, especially on the Sunday
afternoons, with their wives and showily-dressed daughters in the
gardens of the New Globe, or Green Dragon--the Cremorne and Vauxhall
of the east. I visited the house of one of those who I was told
had originally been a costermonger. The front portion of the shop
was almost filled with coals, he having added to his occupation of
street-seller the business of a coal-shed man; this his wife and a
little boy managed in his absence; while, true to his early training,
the window-ledge and a bench before it were heaped up with cabbages,
onions, and other vegetables. In an open space opposite his door, I
observed a one-horse cart and two or three trucks with his name painted
thereon. At his invitation, I passed through what may be termed the
shop, and entered the parlour, a neat room nicely carpeted, with a
round table in the centre, chairs ranged primly round the walls, and
a long looking-glass reflecting the china shepherds and shepherdesses
on the mantel-piece, while, framed and glazed, all around were
highly-coloured prints, among which, Dick Turpin, in flash red coat,
gallantly clearing the toll-gate in his celebrated ride to York, and
Jack Sheppard lowering himself down from the window of the lock-up
house, were most conspicuous. In the window lay a few books, and one or
two old copies of _Bell’s Life_. Among the well thumbed books, I picked
out the _Newgate Calendar_, and the “_Calendar of Orrers_,” as he
called it, of which he expressed a very high opinion. “Lor bless you,”
he exclaimed, “them there stories is the vonderfullest in the vorld!
I’d never ha believed it, if I adn’t seed it vith my own two hies, but
there can’t be no mistake ven I read it hout o’ the book, can there,
now? I jist asks yer that ere plain question.”
Of his career he gave me the following account:--“I vos at von time a
coster, riglarly brought up to the business, the times vas good then;
but lor, ve used to lush at sich a rate! About ten year ago, I ses to
meself, I say Bill, I’m blowed if this here game ’ill do any longer. I
had a good moke (donkey), and a tidyish box ov a cart; so vot does I
do, but goes and sees von o’ my old pals that gits into the coal-line
somehow. He and I goes to the Bell and Siven Mackerels in the Mile
End Road, and then he tells me all he knowed, and takes me along vith
hisself, and from that time I sticks to the coals.
“I niver cared much about the lush myself, and ven I got avay from the
old uns, I didn’t mind it no how; but Jack my pal vos a awful lushy
cove, he couldn’t do no good at nothink, votsomever; he died they
say of _lirium trumans_” [not understanding what he meant, I inquired
of what it was he died]; “why, of _lirium trumans_, vich I takes to
be too much of Trueman and Hanbury’s heavy; so I takes varnin by poor
Jack, and cuts the lush; but if you thinks as ve don’t enjoy ourselves
sometimes, I tells you, you don’t know nothink about it. I’m gittin on
like a riglar house a fire.”