beast of draught), of the prosperous costermongers are of three
kinds:--the first is of an oblong shape, with a rail behind, upon which
is placed a tray filled with bunches of greens, turnips, celery, &c.,
whilst other commodities are laid in the bed of the cart. Another kind
is the common square cart without springs, which is so constructed
that the sides, as well as the front and back, will let down and form
shelves whereon the stock may be arranged to advantage. The third sort
of pony-cart is one of home manufacture, consisting of the framework
of a body without sides, or front, or hind part. Sometimes a coster’s
barrow is formed into a donkey cart merely by fastening, with cord, two
rough poles to the handles. All these several kinds of carts are used
for the conveyance of either fruit, vegetables, or fish; but besides
those, there is the salt and mustard vendor’s cart, with and without
the tilt or covering, and a square piece of tin (stuck into a block of
salt), on which is painted “salt 3 lbs. a penny,” and “mustard a penny
an ounce.” Then there is the poultry cart, with the wild-ducks, and
rabbits dangling at its sides, and with two uprights and a cross-stick,
upon which are suspended birds, &c., slung across in couples.
The above conveyances are all of small dimensions, the barrows being
generally about five feet long and three wide, while the carts are
mostly about four feet square.
Every kind of harness is used; some is well blacked and greased and
glittering with brass, others are almost as grey with dust as the
donkey itself. Some of the jackasses are gaudily caparisoned in an old
carriage-harness, which fits it like a man’s coat on a boy’s back,
while the plated silver ornaments are pink, with the copper showing
through; others have rope traces and belly-bands, and not a few indulge
in old cotton handkerchiefs for pads.
The next conveyance (which, indeed, is the most general) is the
costermonger’s hand-barrow. These are very light in their make, with
springs terminating at the axle. Some have rails behind for the
arrangement of their goods; others have not. Some have side rails,
whilst others have only the frame-work. The shape of these barrows is
oblong, and sloped from the hind-part towards the front; the bottom of
the bed is not boarded, but consists of narrow strips of wood nailed
athwart and across. When the coster is hawking his fish, or vending his
green stuff, he provides himself with a wooden tray, which is placed
upon his barrow. Those who cannot afford a tray get some pieces of
board and fasten them together, these answering their purpose as well.
Pine-apple and pine-apple rock barrows are not unfrequently seen with
small bright coloured flags at the four corners, fluttering in the wind.
The knife-cleaner’s barrow, which has lately appeared in the streets,
must not be passed over here. It consists of a huge sentry-box, with
a door, and is fixed upon two small wheels, being propelled in the
same way as a wheel-barrow. In the interior is one of Kent’s Patent
Knife-cleaning Machines, worked by turning a handle. Then there are
the cat and dog’s-meat barrows. These, however, are merely common
wheelbarrows, with a board in front and a ledge or shelf, formed by
a piece of board nailed across the top of the barrow, to answer the
purpose of a cutting-board. Lastly, there is the hearth-stone barrow,
piled up with hearth-stone, Bath-brick, and lumps of whiting.
Another mode of conveying the goods through the streets, is by baskets
of various kinds; as the sieve or head basket; the square and oval
“shallow,” fastened in front of the fruit-woman with a strap round the
waist; the hand-basket; and the “prickle.” The sieve, or head-basket,
is a round willow basket, containing about one-third of a bushel.
The square and oval shallows are willow baskets, about four inches
deep, and thirty inches long, by eighteen broad. The hand-basket is
the common oval basket, with a handle across to hang upon the arm;
the latter are generally used by the Irish for onions and apples. The
prickle is a brown willow basket, in which walnuts are imported into
this country from the Continent; they are about thirty inches deep, and
in bulk rather larger than a gallon measure; they are used only by the
vendors of walnuts.
Such are the principal forms of the costermongers’ conveyances; but
besides carts, barrows, and baskets, there are many other means adopted
by the London street-sellers for carrying their goods from one part
of the metropolis to another. The principal of these are cans, trays,
boxes, and poles.
The baked potato-cans sometimes are square and sometimes oval; they are
made with and without legs, a lid fastened on with hinges, and have a
small charcoal fire fixed at the bottom of the can, so as to keep the
potatoes hot, while there is a pipe at top to let off the steam. On
one side of the can is a little compartment for the salt, and another
on the other side for the butter. The hot pie-can is a square tin can,
standing upon four legs, with a door in front, and three partitions
inside; a fire is kept in the bottom, and the pies arranged in order
upon the iron plates or shelves. When the pies at the bottom are
sufficiently hot they are taken out, and placed on the upper shelf,
whilst those above are removed to the lower compartments, by which
means all the pies are kept “hot and hot.”
The muffin and crumpet-boy carries his articles in a basket, covered
outside with oil-cloth and inside with green-baize, either at his back,
or slung over his arm, and rings his bell as he walks.
The blacking boy, congreve-match and water-cress girl, use a rusty
tray, spread over with their “goods,” and suspended to the neck by a
piece of string.
The vendors of corn-salve, plating balls, soap for removing grease
spots, paper, steel pens, envelopes, &c., carry their commodities in
front of them in boxes, suspended round the neck by a narrow leather
strap.
Rabbits and game are sometimes carried in baskets, and at other
times tied together and slung over a pole upon the shoulder. Hat and
bonnet-boxes are likewise conveyed upon a pole.
Door-mats, baskets and “duffer’s” packs, wood pails, brushes, brooms,
clothes-props, clothes-lines and string, and grid-irons, Dutch-ovens,
skewers and fire-shovels, are carried across the shoulder.
OF THE “SMITHFIELD RACES.”
Having set forth the costermonger’s usual mode of conveying his
goods through the streets of London, I shall now give the reader a
description of the place and scene where and when he purchases his
donkeys.
When a costermonger wishes to sell or buy a donkey, he goes to
Smithfield-market on a Friday afternoon. On this day, between the hours
of one and five, there is a kind of fair held, attended solely by
costermongers, for whose convenience a long paved slip of ground, about
eighty feet in length, has been set apart. The animals for sale are
trotted up and down this--the “race-course,” as it is called--and on
each side of it stand the spectators and purchasers, crowding among the
stalls of peas-soup, hot eels, and other street delicacies.
Every thing necessary for the starting of a costermonger’s barrow
can be had in Smithfield on a Friday,--from the barrow itself to the
weights--from the donkey to the whip. The animals can be purchased at
prices ranging from 5_s._ to 3_l._ On a brisk market-day as many as two
hundred donkeys have been sold. The barrows for sale are kept apart
from the steeds, but harness to any amount can be found everywhere,
in all degrees of excellence, from the bright japanned cart saddle
with its new red pads, to the old mouldy trace covered with buckle
marks. Wheels of every size and colour, and springs in every stage of
rust, are hawked about on all sides. To the usual noise and shouting
of a Saturday night’s market is added the shrill squealing of distant
pigs, the lowing of the passing oxen, the bleating of sheep, and the
braying of donkeys. The paved road all down the “race-course” is level
and soft, with the mud trodden down between the stones. The policeman
on duty there wears huge fishermen’s or flushermen’s boots, reaching
to their thighs; and the trouser ends of the costers’ corduroys are
black and sodden with wet dirt. Every variety of odour fills the air;
you pass from the stable smell that hangs about the donkeys, into an
atmosphere of apples and fried fish, near the eating-stalls, while a
few paces further on you are nearly choked with the stench of goats.
The crowd of black hats, thickly dotted with red and yellow plush caps,
reels about; and the “hi-hi-i-i” of the donkey-runners sounds on all
sides. Sometimes a curly-headed bull, with a fierce red eye, on its way
to or from the adjacent cattle-market, comes trotting down the road,
making all the visitors rush suddenly to the railings, for fear--as a
coster near me said--of “being taught the hornpipe.”
The donkeys standing for sale are ranged in a long line on both sides
of the “race-course,” their white velvetty noses resting on the wooden
rail they are tied to. Many of them wear their blinkers and head
harness, and others are ornamented with ribbons, fastened in their
halters. The lookers-on lean against this railing, and chat with the
boys at the donkeys’ heads, or with the men who stand behind them, and
keep continually hitting and shouting at the poor still beasts to make
them prance. Sometimes a party of two or three will be seen closely
examining one of these “Jerusalem ponys,” passing their hands down its
legs, or looking quietly on, while the proprietor’s ash stick descends
on the patient brute’s back, making a dull hollow sound. As you walk
in front of the long line of donkeys, the lads seize the animals by
their nostrils, and show their large teeth, asking if you “want a
hass, sir,” and all warranting the creature to be “five years old next
buff-day.” Dealers are quarrelling among themselves, downcrying each
other’s goods. “A hearty man,” shouted one proprietor, pointing to his
rival’s stock, “could eat three sich donkeys as yourn at a meal.”
One fellow, standing behind his steed, shouts as he strikes, “Here’s
the real Brittannia mettle;” whilst another asks, “Who’s for the Pride
of the Market?” and then proceeds to flip “the pride” with his whip,
till she clears away the mob with her kickings. Here, standing by its
mother, will be a shaggy little colt, with a group of ragged boys
fondling it, and lifting it in their arms from the ground.
During all this the shouts of the drivers and runners fill the air,
as they rush past each other on the race-course. Now a tall fellow,
dragging a donkey after him, runs by crying, as he charges in amongst
the mob, “Hulloa! Hulloa! hi! hi!” his mate, with his long coat-tails
flying in the wind, hurrying after and roaring, between his blows,
“Keem-up!”
On nearly every post are hung traces or bridles; and in one place, on
the occasion of my visit, stood an old collar with a donkey nibbling at
the straw that had burst out. Some of the lads, in smock-frocks, walk
about with cart-saddles on their heads, and crowds gather round the
trucks, piled up with a black heap of harness studded with brass. Those
without trays have spread out old sacks on the ground, on which are
laid axle-trees, bound-up springs, and battered carriage-lamps. There
are plenty of rusty nails and iron bolts to be had, if a barrow should
want mending; and if the handles are broken, an old cab-shaft can be
bought cheap, to repair them.
In another “race-course,” opposite to the donkeys,--the ponies are
sold. These make a curious collection, each one showing what was his
last master’s whim. One has its legs and belly shorn of its hair,
another has its mane and tail cut close, and some have switch tails,
muddy at the end from their length. A big-hipped black nag, with red
tinsel-like spots on its back, had its ears cut close, and another
curly-haired brute that was wet and steaming with having been shown
off, had two huge letters burnt into its hind-quarters. Here the
clattering of the hoofs and the smacking of whips added to the din; and
one poor brute, with red empty eye-holes, and carrying its head high
up--as a blind man does--sent out showers of sparks from its hoofs as
it spluttered over the stones, at each blow it received. Occasionally,
in one part of the pony market, there may be seen a crowd gathered
round a nag, that some one swears has been stolen from him.
Raised up over the heads of the mob are bundles of whips, and men push
their way past, with their arms full of yellow-handled curry-combs;
whilst, amongst other cries, is heard that of “Sticks 1/2_d._ each!
sticks--real smarters.” At one end of the market the barrows for sale
are kept piled up one on another, or filled with old wheels, and some
with white unpainted wood, showing where they have been repaired. Men
are here seen thumping the wooden trays, and trying the strength of
the springs by leaning on them; and here, too, stood, on the occasion
of my visit, a ragged coster lad trying to sell his scales, now the
cherry-season had past.
On all sides the refreshment-barrows are surrounded by customers.
The whelk-man peppers his lots, and shouts, “A lumping penn’orth for
a ha’penny;” and a lad in a smock-frock carries two full pails of
milk, slopping it as he walks, and crying, “Ha’penny a mug-full, new
milk from the ke-ow!” The only quiet people to be seen are round the
peas-soup stall, with their cups in their hands; and there is a huge
crowd covering in the hot-eel stand, with the steam rising up in the
centre. Baskets of sliced cake, apples, nuts, and pine-apple rock,
block up the pathway; and long wicker baskets of live fowls hem you in,
round which are grouped the costers, handling and blowing apart the
feathers on the breast.
OF THE DONKEYS OF THE COSTERMONGERS.
The costermongers almost universally treat their donkeys with kindness.
Many a costermonger will resent the ill-treatment of a donkey, as
he would a personal indignity. These animals are often not only
favourites, but pets, having their share of the costermonger’s dinner
when bread forms a portion of it, or pudding, or anything suited to
the palate of the brute. Those well-used, manifest fondness for their
masters, and are easily manageable; it is, however, difficult to get
an ass, whose master goes regular rounds, away from its stable for
any second labour during the day, unless it has fed and slept in the
interval. The usual fare of a donkey is a peck of chaff, which costs
1_d._, a quart of oats and a quart of beans, each averaging 1-1/2_d._,
and sometimes a pennyworth of hay, being an expenditure of 4_d._ or
5_d._ a day; but some give double this quantity in a prosperous time.
Only one meal a day is given. Many costermongers told me, that their
donkeys lived well when they themselves lived well.
“It’s all nonsense to call donkeys stupid,” said one costermonger to
me; “them’s stupid that calls them so: they’re sensible. Not long since
I worked Guildford with my donkey-cart and a boy. Jack (the donkey) was
slow and heavy in coming back, until we got in sight of the lights at
Vauxhall-gate, and then he trotted on like one o’clock, he did indeed!
just as if he smelt it was London besides seeing it, and knew he was
at home. He had a famous appetite in the country, and the fresh grass
did him good. I gave a country lad 2_d._ to mind him in a green lane
there. I wanted my own boy to do so, but he said, ‘I’ll see you further
first.’ A London boy hates being by himself in a lone country part.
He’s afraid of being burked; he is indeed. One can’t quarrel with a lad
when he’s away with one in the country; he’s very useful. I feed my
donkey well. I sometimes give him a carrot for a luxury, but carrots
are dear now. He’s fond of mashed potatoes, and has many a good mash
when I can buy them at 4lb. a penny.”
“There was a friend of mine,” said another man, “had great trouble
about his donkey a few months back. I saw part of it, and knew all
about it. He was doing a little work on a Sunday morning at Wandsworth,
and the poor thing fell down dead. He was very fond of his donkey and
kind to it, and the donkey was very fond of him. He thought he wouldn’t
leave the poor creature he’d had a good while, and had been out with
in all weathers, by the road side; so he dropped all notion of doing
business, and with help got the poor dead thing into his cart; its
head lolloping over the end of the cart, and its poor eyes staring at
nothing. He thought he’d drag it home and bury it somewheres. It wasn’t
for the value he dragged it, for what’s a dead donkey worth? There
was a few persons about him, and they was all quiet and seemed sorry
for the poor fellow and for his donkey; but the church-bells struck
up, and up came a ‘crusher,’ and took the man up, and next day he was
fined 10_s._, I can’t exactly say for what. He never saw no more of the
animal, and lost his stock as well as his donkey.”
OF THE COSTERMONGERS’ CAPITAL.
The costermongers, though living by buying and selling, are seldom
or never capitalists. It is estimated that not more than one-fourth
of the entire body trade upon their own property. Some borrow their
stock money, others borrow the stock itself, others again borrow the
donkey-carts, barrows, or baskets, in which their stock is carried
round, whilst others borrow even the weights and measures by which it
is meted out.
The reader, however uninformed he may be as to the price the poor
usually have to pay for any loans they may require, doubtlessly
need not be told that the remuneration exacted for the use of the
above-named commodities is not merely confined to the legal 5_l._ per
centum per annum; still many of even the most “knowing” will hardly
be able to credit the fact that the ordinary rate of interest in the
costermongers’ money-market amounts to 20 per cent. per week, or no
less than 1040_l._ a year, for every 100_l._ advanced.
But the iniquity of this usury in the present instance is felt, not
so much by the costermongers themselves, as by the poor people whom
they serve; for, of course, the enormous rate of interest must be paid
out of the profits on the goods they sell, and consequently added to
the price, so that coupling this overcharge with the customary short
allowance--in either weight or measure, as the case may be--we can
readily perceive how cruelly the poor are defrauded, and how they not
only get often too little for what they do, but have as often to pay
too much for what they buy.
Premising thus much, I shall now proceed to describe the terms upon
which the barrow, the cart, the basket, the weights, the measures,
the stock-money, or the stock, is usually advanced to the needy
costermongers by their more thrifty brethren.
The hire of a barrow is 3_d._ a day, or 1_s._ a week, for the six
winter months; and 4_d._ a day, or 1_s._ 6_d._ a week, for the six
summer months. Some are to be had rather lower in the summer, but never
for less than 4_d._--sometimes for not less than 6_d._ on a Saturday,
when not unfrequently every barrow in London is hired. No security
and no deposit is required, but the lender satisfies himself that the
borrower is really what he represents himself to be. I am informed that
5,000 hired barrows are now in the hands of the London costermongers,
at an average rental of 3_l._ 5_s._ each, or 16,250_l._ a year. One
man lets out 120 yearly, at a return (dropping the 5_s._) of 360_l._;
while the cost of a good barrow, new, is 2_l._ 12_s._, and in the
autumn and winter they may be bought new, or “as good as new,” at
30_s._ each; so that reckoning each to cost this barrow-letter 2_l._,
he receives 360_l._ rent or interest--exactly 150 per cent. per annum
for property which originally cost but 240_l._, and property which is
still as good for the ensuing year’s business as for the past. One man
has rented a barrow for eight years, during which period he has paid
26_l._ for what in the first instance did not cost more than twice as
many shillings, and which he must return if he discontinues its use. “I
know men well to do,” said an intelligent costermonger, “who have paid
1_s._ and 1_s._ 6_d._ a week for a barrow for three, four, and five
years; and they can’t be made to understand that it’s rather high rent
for what might cost 40_s._ at first. They can’t see they are losers.
One barrow-lender sends his son out, mostly on a Sunday, collecting
his rents (for barrows), but he’s not a hard man.” Some of the
lenders complain that their customers pay them irregularly and cheat
them often, and that in consequence they must charge high; while the
“borrowers” declare that it is very seldom indeed that a man “shirks”
the rent for his barrow, generally believing that he has made an
advantageous bargain, and feeling the want of his vehicle, if he lose
it temporarily. Let the lenders, however, be deceived by many, still,
it is evident, that the rent charged for barrows is most exorbitant, by
the fact, that all who take to the business become men of considerable
property in a few years.
Donkey-carts are rarely hired. “If there’s 2,000 donkey and pony-carts
in London, more or less, not 200 of them’s borrowed; but of barrows
five to two is borrowed.” A donkey-cart costs from 2_l._ to 10_l._;
3_l._ 10_s._ being an average price. The hire is 2_s._ or 2_s._ 6_d._ a
week. The harness costs 2_l._ 10_s._ new, but is bought, nineteen times
out of twenty, second-hand, at from 2_s._ 6_d._ to 20_s._ The donkeys
themselves are not let out on hire, though a costermonger may let
out his donkey to another in the trade when he does not require its
services; the usual sum paid for the hire of a donkey is 2_s._ 6_d._ or
3_s._ per week. The cost price of a pony varies from 5_l._ to 13_l._;
that of a donkey from 1_l._ to 3_l._ There may be six donkeys, or more,
in costermonger use, to one pony. Some traffic almost weekly in these
animals, liking the excitement of such business.
The repairs to barrows, carts, and harness are almost always effected
by the costermongers themselves.
“Shallows” (baskets) which cost 1_s._ and 1_s._ 6_d._, are let out
at 1_d._ a day; but not five in 100 of those in use are borrowed, as
their low price places them at the costermonger’s command. A pewter
quart-pot, for measuring onions, &c., is let out at 2_d._ a day, its
cost being 2_s._ Scales are 2_d._, and a set of weights 1_d._ a day.
Another common mode of usury is in the lending of stock-money. This
is lent by the costermongers who have saved the means for such use of
their funds, and by beer-shop keepers. The money-lending costermongers
are the most methodical in their usury--1,040_l._ per cent. per annum,
as was before stated, being the rate of interest usually charged. It
is seldom that a lower sum than 10_s._ is borrowed, and never a higher
sum than 2_l._ When a stranger applies for a loan, the money-lender
satisfies himself as I have described of the barrow-lender. He charges
2_d._ a day for a loan of 2_s._ 6_d._; 3_d._ a day for 5_s._; 6_d._ a
day for 10_s._; and 1_s._ a day for 1_l._ If the daily payments are
rendered regularly, at a month’s end the terms are reduced to 6_d._ a
week for 5_s._; 1_s._ for 10_s._; and 2_s._ for 1_l._ “That’s reckoned
an extraordinary small interest,” was said to me, “only 4_d._ a day
for a pound.” The average may be 3_s._ a week for the loan of 20_s._;
it being only to a few that a larger sum than 20_s._ is lent. “I paid
2_s._ a week for 1_l._ for a whole year,” said one man, “or 5_l._ 4_s._
for the use of a pound, and then I was liable to repay the 1_l._” The
principal, however, is seldom repaid; nor does the lender seem to
expect it, though he will occasionally demand it. One money-lender
is considered to have a floating capital of 150_l._ invested in
loans to costermongers. If he receive 2_s._ per week per 1_l._ for
but twenty-six weeks in the year (and he often receives it for the
fifty-two weeks)--his 150_l._ brings him in 390_l._ a year.
Sometimes a loan is effected only for a day, generally a Saturday, as
much as 2_s._ 6_d._ being sometimes given for the use of 5_s._; the
5_s._ being of course repaid in the evening.
The money-lenders are subject to at least twice the extent of loss to
which the barrow-lender is exposed, as it is far oftener that money is
squandered (on which of course no interest can be paid) than that a
barrow is disposed of.