young traders began to add the sale of other goods to their oranges,
pressing them upon the notice of those who were leaving or visiting
London by the different coaches. So much was this the case, that it
was a common remark at that time, that no one could reach or leave
the metropolis, even for the shortest journey, without being expected
to be in urgent want of oranges and lemons, black-lead pencils,
sticks of sealing-wax, many-bladed pen-knives, pocket-combs, razors,
strops, braces, and sponges. To pursue the sale of the last-mentioned
articles--they being found, I presume, to be more profitable--some of
the street-Jews began to abandon the sale of oranges and lemons; and it
was upon this, that the trade was “taken up” by the wives and children
of the Irish bricklayers’ labourers, and of other Irish work-people
then resident in London. The numbers of Irish in the metropolis at that
time began to increase rapidly; for twenty years ago, they resorted
numerously to England to gather in the harvest, and those who had been
employed in contiguous counties during the autumn, made for London in
the winter. “I can’t say they were well off, sir,” said one man to
me, “but they liked bread and herrings, or bread and tea--better than
potatoes without bread at home.” From 1836 to 1840, I was informed,
the Irish gradually superseded the Jews in the fruit traffic about
the coaching-houses. One reason for this was, that they were far
more eloquent, begging pathetically, and with many benedictions on
their listeners. The Jews never begged, I was told; “they were merely
traders.” Another reason was, that the Irish, men or lads, who had
entered into the fruit trade in the coach-yards, would not only
sell and beg, but were ready to “lend a hand” to any over-burthened
coach-porter. This the Jews never did, and in that way the people of
the yard came to encourage the Irish to the prejudice of the Jews. At
present, I understand that, with the exception of one or two in the
city, no Jews vend oranges in the streets, and that the trade is almost
entirely in the hands of the Irish.
Another reason why the Irish could supersede and even undersell the
Jews and regular costermongers was this, as I am informed on excellent
authority:--Father Mathew, a dozen years back, made temperance
societies popular in Ireland. Many of the itinerant Irish, especially
the younger classes, were “temperance men.” Thus the Irish could live
as sparely as the Jew, but they did not, like him, squander any money
for the evening’s amusement, at the concert or the theatre.
I inquired what might be the number of the Jews plying, so to speak, at
the coaching inns, and was assured that it was less numerous than was
generally imagined. One man computed it at 300 individuals, all under
21; another at only 200; perhaps the mean, or 250, might be about the
mark. The number was naturally considered greater, I was told, because
the same set of street traders were seen over and over again. The
Jews knew when the coaches were to arrive and when they started, and
they would hurry, after availing themselves of a departure, from one
inn--the Belle Sauvage, Ludgate-hill, for instance--to take advantage
of an arrival at another--say the Saracen’s Head, Snow-hill. Thus they
appeared everywhere, but were the same individuals.
I inquired to what calling the youthful Jews, thus driven from their
partially monopolized street commerce, had devoted themselves, and was
told that even when the orange and hawking trade was at the best, the
Jews rarely carried it on after they were twenty-two or twenty-three,
but that they then resorted to some more wholesale calling, such as the
purchase of nuts or foreign grapes, at public sales. At present, I am
informed, they are more thickly than ever engaged in these trades, as
well as in two new avocations, that have been established within these
few years,--the sale of the Bahama pine-apples and of the Spanish and
Portuguese onions.
About the Royal Exchange, Jew boys still hawk pencils, etc., but the
number engaged in this pursuit throughout London is not, as far as I
can ascertain, above one-eighth--if an eighth--of what it was even
twelve years ago.
OF THE RELIGION OF THE STREET-IRISH.
Having now given a brief sketch as to how the Irish people have come
to form so large a proportion of the London street-sellers, I shall
proceed, as I did with the English costermongers, to furnish the reader
with a short account of their religious, moral, intellectual, and
physical condition, so that he may be able to contrast the habits and
circumstances of the one class with those of the other. First, of the
religion of the Irish street-folk.
Almost all the street-Irish are Roman Catholics. Of course I can but
speak generally; but during my inquiry I met with only two who said
they were Protestants, and when I came to converse with them, I found
out that they were partly ignorant of, and partly indifferent to, any
religion whatever. An Irish Protestant gentleman said to me: “You may
depend upon it, if ever you meet any of my poor countrymen who will
not talk to you about religion, they either know or care nothing about
it; for the religious spirit runs high in Ireland, and Protestants and
Catholics are easily led to converse about their faith.”
I found that _some_ of the Irish Roman Catholics--but they had been for
many years resident in England, and that among the poorest or vagrant
class of the English--had become indifferent to their creed, and did
not attend their chapels, unless at the great fasts or festivals, and
this they did only occasionally. One old stall-keeper, who had been in
London nearly thirty years, said to me: “Ah! God knows, sir, I ought
to attend mass every Sunday, but I haven’t for a many years, barrin’
Christmas-day and such times. But I’ll thry and go more rigular, plase
God.” This man seemed to resent, as a sort of indignity, my question if
he ever attended any other place of worship. “Av coorse not!” was the
reply.
One Irishman, also a fruit-seller, with a well-stocked barrow, and
without the complaint of poverty common among his class, entered
keenly into the subject of his religious faith when I introduced it.
He was born in Ireland, but had been in England since he was five or
six. He was a good-looking, fresh-coloured man, of thirty or upwards,
and could read and write well. He spoke without bitterness, though
zealously enough. “Perhaps, sir, you are a gintleman connected with
the Protistant clargy,” he asked, “or a missionary?” On my stating
that I had no claim to either character, he resumed: “Will, sir,
it don’t matther. All the worruld may know my riligion, and I wish
all the worruld was of my riligion, and betther min in it than I
am; I do, indeed. I’m a Roman Catholic, sir;” [here he made the
sign of the cross]; “God be praised for it! O yis, I know all about
Cardinal Wiseman. It’s the will of God, I feel sure, that he’s to be
’stablished here, and it’s no use ribillin’ against that. I’ve nothing
to say against Protistints. I’ve heard it said, ‘It’s best to pray
for them.’ The street-people that call thimselves Protistants are no
riligion at all at all. I serruve Protistant gintlemen and ladies too,
and sometimes they talk to me kindly about religion. They’re good
custhomers, and I have no doubt good people. I can’t say what their lot
may be in another worruld for not being of the true faith. No, sir,
I’ll give no opinions--none.”
This man gave me a clear account of his belief that the Blessed Virgin
(he crossed himself repeatedly as he spoke) was the mother of our Lord
Jesus Christ, and was a mediator with our Lord, who was God of heaven
and earth--of the duty of praying to the holy saints--of attending
mass--(“but the priest,” he said, “won’t exact too much of a poor
man, either about that or about fasting”)--of going to confession at
Easter and Christmas times, at the least--of receiving the body of
Christ, “the rale prisince,” in the holy sacrament--of keeping all
God’s commandments--of purgatory being a purgation of sins--and of
heaven and hell. I found the majority of those I spoke with, at least
as earnest in their faith, if they were not as well instructed in it
as my informant, who may be cited as an example of the better class of
street-sellers.
Another Irishman,--who may be taken as a type of the less informed,
and who had been between two and three years in England, having
been disappointed in emigrating to America with his wife and two
children,--gave me the following account, but not without considering
and hesitating. He was a very melancholy looking man, tall and spare,
and decently clad. He and his family were living upon 8_d._ a day,
which he earned by sweeping a crossing. He had been prevented by ill
health from earning 2_l._, which he could have made, he told me, in
harvest time, as a store against winter. He had been a street-seller,
and so had his wife; and she would be so again as soon as he could
raise 2_s._ to buy her a stock of apples. He said, touching his hat at
each holy name,--
“Sure, yis, sir, I’m a Roman Cartholic, and go to mass every Sunday.
Jesus Christ? O yis,” (hesitating, but proceeding readily after a word
of prompting), “he is the Lord our Saviour, and the Son of the Holy
Virgin. The blessed saints? Yis, sir, yis. The praste prays for them.
I--I mane prays to them. O yis. I pray to them mysilf ivery night for a
blissin’, and to rise me out of my misery. No, sir, I can’t say I know
what the mass is about. I don’t know what I’m prayin’ for thin, only
that it’s right. A poor man, that can neither read nor write--I wish I
could and I might do betther--can’t understand it; it’s all in Latin.
I’ve heard about Cardinal Wiseman. It’ll do us no good sir; it’ll only
set people more against us. But it ain’t poor min’s fault.”
As I was anxious to witness the religious zeal that characterizes
these people, I obtained permission to follow one of the priests as
he made his rounds among his flock. Everywhere the people ran out to
meet him. He had just returned to them I found, and the news spread
round, and women crowded to their door-steps, and came creeping up from
the cellars through the trap-doors, merely to curtsey to him. One old
crone, as he passed, cried, “You’re a good father, Heaven comfort you,”
and the boys playing about stood still to watch him. A lad, in a man’s
tail coat and a shirt-collar that nearly covered in his head--like the
paper round a bouquet--was fortunate enough to be noticed, and his eyes
sparkled, as he touched his hair at each word he spoke in answer. At a
conversation that took place between the priest and a woman who kept
a dry fish-stall, the dame excused herself for not having been up to
take tea “with his rivirince’s mother lately, for thrade had been so
bisy, and night was the fullest time.” Even as the priest walked along
the street, boys running at full speed would pull up to touch their
hair, and the stall-women would rise from their baskets; while all
noise--even a quarrel--ceased until he had passed by. Still there was
no look of fear in the people. He called them all by their names, and
asked after their families, and once or twice the “father” was taken
aside and held by the button while some point that required his advice
was whispered in his ear.
The religious fervour of the people whom I saw was intense. At one
house that I entered, the woman set me marvelling at the strength of
her zeal, by showing me how she contrived to have in her sitting-room
a sanctuary to pray before every night and morning, and even in the
day, “when she felt weary and lonesome.” The room was rudely enough
furnished, and the only decent table was covered with a new piece of
varnished cloth; still before a rude print of our Saviour there were
placed two old plated candlesticks, pink, with the copper shining
through; and here it was that she told her beads. In her bed-room, too,
was a coloured engraving of the “Blessed Lady,” which she never passed
without curtseying to.
Of course I detail these matters as mere facts, without desiring to
offer any opinion here, either as to the benefit or otherwise of the
creed in question. As I had shown how the English costermonger neither
had nor knew any religion whatever, it became my duty to give the
reader a view of the religion of the Irish street-sellers. In order
to be able to do so as truthfully as possible, I placed myself in
communication with those parties who were in a position to give me the
best information on the subject. The result is given above, in all the
simplicity and impartiality of history.
OF THE EDUCATION, LITERATURE, AMUSEMENTS, AND POLITICS OF THE
STREET-IRISH.
These several heads have often required from me lengthened notices,
but as regards the class I am now describing they may be dismissed
briefly enough. The majority of the street-Irish whom I saw were unable
to read, but I found those who had no knowledge of reading--(and the
same remark applies to the English street-sellers as well)--regret
their inability, and say, “I wish I could read, sir; I’d be better
off now.” On the other hand, those who had a knowledge of reading and
writing, said frequently enough, “Why, yes, sir, I _can_ read and
write, but it’s been no good to me,” as if they had been disappointed
in their expectations as to the benefits attendant upon scholarship. I
am inclined to think, however, that a greater anxiety exists among the
poor generally, to have some schooling provided for their children,
than was the case a few years back. One Irishman attributed this to the
increased number of Roman Catholic schools, “for the more schools there
are,” he said, “the more people think about schooling their children.”
The literature, or reading, of the street-Irish is, I believe, confined
to Roman Catholic books, such as the “Lives of the Saints,” published
in a cheap form; one, and only one, I found with the “Nation”
newspaper. The very poor have no leisure to read. During three days
spent in visiting the slop-workers at the East end of the town, not so
much as the fragment of a leaf of a book was seen.
The amusements of the street-Irish are not those of the English
costermongers--though there are exceptions, of course, to the remark.
The Irish fathers and mothers do not allow their daughters, even when
they possess the means, to resort to the “penny gaffs” or the “twopenny
hops,” unaccompanied by them. Some of the men frequent the beer-shops,
and are inveterate drinkers and smokers too. I did not hear of any
amusements popular among, or much resorted to, by the Irishmen, except
dancing parties at one another’s houses, where they jig and reel
furiously. They frequent raffles also, but the article is often never
thrown for, and the evening is spent in dancing.
I may here observe--in reference to the statement that Irish parents
will not expose their daughters to the risk of what they consider
corrupt influences--that when a young Irishwoman _does_ break through
the pale of chastity, she often becomes, as I was assured, one of the
most violent and depraved of, perhaps, _the_ most depraved class.
Of politics, I think, the street-Irish understand nothing, and my own
observations in this respect were confirmed by a remark made to me by
an Irish gentleman: “Their politics are either a dead letter, or the
politics of their priests.”
THE HOMES OF THE STREET-IRISH.
In almost all of the poorer districts of London are to be found “nests
of Irish”--as they are called--or courts inhabited solely by the Irish
costermongers. These people form separate colonies, rarely visiting or
mingling with the English costers. It is curious, on walking through
one of these settlements, to notice the manner in which the Irish deal
among themselves--street-seller buying of street-seller. Even in some
of the smallest courts there may be seen stalls of vegetables, dried
herrings, or salt cod, thriving, on the associative principle, by
mutual support.
The parts of London that are the most thickly populated with
Irish lie about Brook-street, Ratcliff-cross, down both sides
of the Commercial-road, and in Rosemary-lane, though nearly
all the “coster-districts” cited at p. 47, have their Irish
settlements--Cromer-street, Saffron-hill and King-street, Drury-lane,
for instance, being thickly peopled with the Irish; but the places I
have mentioned above are peculiarly distinguished, by being almost
entirely peopled by visitors from the sister isle.
The same system of immigration is pursued in London as in America. As
soon as the first settler is thriving in his newly chosen country, a
certain portion of his or her earnings are carefully hoarded up, until
they are sufficient to pay for the removal of another member of the
family to England; then one of the friends left “at home” is sent for;
and thus by degrees the entire family is got over, and once more united.
Perhaps there is no quarter of London where the habits and habitations
of the Irish can be better seen and studied than in Rosemary-lane, and
the little courts and alleys that spring from it on each side. Some of
these courts have other courts branching off from them, so that the
locality is a perfect labyrinth of “blind alleys;” and when once in the
heart of the maze it is difficult to find the path that leads to the
main-road. As you walk down “the lane,” and peep through the narrow
openings between the houses, the place seems like a huge peep-show,
with dark holes of gateways to look through, while the court within
appears bright with the daylight; and down it are seen rough-headed
urchins running with their feet bare through the puddles, and
bonnetless girls, huddled in shawls, lolling against the door-posts.
Sometimes you see a long narrow alley, with the houses so close
together that opposite neighbours are talking from their windows; while
the ropes, stretched zig-zag from wall to wall, afford just room enough
to dry a blanket or a couple of shirts, that swell out dropsically in
the wind.
I visited one of the paved yards round which the Irish live, and found
that it had been turned into a complete drying-ground, with shirts,
gowns, and petticoats of every description and colour. The buildings at
the end were completely hidden by “the things,” and the air felt damp
and chilly, and smelt of soap-suds. The gutter was filled with dirty
gray water emptied from the wash-tubs, and on the top were the thick
bubbles floating about under the breath of the boys “playing at boats”
with them.
It is the custom with the inhabitants of these courts and alleys
to assemble at the entrance with their baskets, and chat and smoke
away the morning. Every court entrance has its little group of girls
and women, lolling listlessly against the sides, with their heads
uncovered, and their luxuriant hair fuzzy as oakum. It is peculiar
with the Irish women that--after having been accustomed to their
hoods--they seldom wear bonnets, unless on a long journey. Nearly all
of them, too, have a thick plaid shawl, which they keep on all the day
through, with their hands covered under it. At the mouth of the only
thoroughfare deserving of the name of street--for a cart could just go
through it--were congregated about thirty men and women, who rented
rooms in the houses on each side of the road. Six women, with baskets
of dried herrings, were crouching in a line on the kerb-stone with the
fish before them; their legs were drawn up so closely to their bodies
that the shawl covered the entire figure, and they looked very like
the podgy “tombolers” sold by the Italian boys. As all their wares
were alike, it was puzzling work to imagine how, without the strongest
opposition, they could each obtain a living. The men were dressed in
long-tail coats, with one or two brass buttons. One old dame, with a
face wrinkled like a dried plum, had her cloak placed over her head
like a hood, and the grisly hair hung down in matted hanks about her
face, her black eyes shining between the locks like those of a Skye
terrier; beside her was another old woman smoking a pipe so short that
her nose reached over the bowl.
After looking at the low foreheads and long bulging upper lips of some
of the group, it was pleasant to gaze upon the pretty faces of the one
or two girls that lolled against the wall. Their black hair, smoothed
with grease, and shining almost as if “japanned,” and their large gray
eyes with the thick dark fringe of lash, seemed out of place among the
hard features of their companions. It was only by looking at the short
petticoats and large feet you could assure yourself that they belonged
to the same class.
In all the houses that I entered were traces of household care and
neatness that I had little expected to have seen. The cupboard fastened
in the corner of the room, and stocked with mugs and cups, the
mantelpiece with its images, and the walls covered with showy-coloured
prints of saints and martyrs, gave an air of comfort that strangely
disagreed with the reports of the cabins in “ould Ireland.” As the
doors to the houses were nearly all of them kept open, I could, even
whilst walking along, gain some notion of the furniture of the homes.
In one house that I visited there was a family of five persons, living
on the ground floor and occupying two rooms. The boards were strewn
with red sand, and the front apartment had three beds in it, with the
printed curtains drawn closely round. In a dark room, at the back,
lived the family itself. It was fitted up as a parlour, and crowded
to excess with chairs and tables, the very staircase having pictures
fastened against the wooden partition. The fire, although it was
midday, and a warm autumn morning, served as much for light as for
heat, and round it crouched the mother, children, and visitors, bending
over the flame as if in the severest winter time. In a room above this
were a man and woman lately arrived in England. The woman sat huddled
up in a corner smoking, with the husband standing over her in, what
appeared at first, a menacing attitude; I was informed, however, that
they were only planning for the future. This room was perfectly empty
of furniture, and the once white-washed walls were black, excepting the
little square patches which showed where the pictures of the former
tenants had hung. In another room, I found a home so small and full
of furniture, that it was almost a curiosity for domestic management.
The bed, with its chintz curtains looped up, filled one end of the
apartment, but the mattress of it served as a long bench for the
visitors to sit on. The table was so large that it divided the room in
two, and if there was one picture there must have been thirty--all of
“holy men,” with yellow glories round their heads. The window-ledge
was dressed out with crockery, and in a tumbler were placed the
beads. The old dame herself was as curious as her room. Her shawl was
fastened over her large frilled cap. She had a little “button” of a
nose, with the nostrils entering her face like bullet holes. She wore
over her gown an old pilot coat, well-stained with fish slime, and her
petticoats being short, she had very much the appearance of a Dutch
fisherman or stage smuggler.
Her story was affecting--made more so, perhaps, by the emotional
manner in which she related it. Nine years ago “the father” of the
district--“the Blissed Lady guard him!”--had found her late at night,
rolling in the gutter, and the boys pelting her with orange-peel
and mud. She was drunk--“the Lorrud pass by her”--and when she came
to, she found herself in the chapel, lying before the sanctuary,
“under the shadow of the holy cross.” Watching over her was the “good
father,” trying to bring back her consciousness. He spoke to her of
her wickedness, and before she left she took the pledge of temperance.
From that time she prospered, and the 1_s._ 6_d._ the “father” gave
her “had God’s blissin’ in it,” for she became the best dressed woman
in the court, and in less than three years had 15_l._ in the savings’
bank, “the father--Heaven chirish him”--keeping her book for her, as
he did for other poor people. She also joined “the Association of the
Blissed Lady,” (and bought herself the dress of the order “a beautiful
grane vilvit, which she had now, and which same cost her 30_s._”), and
then she was secure against want in old age and sickness. But after
nine years prudence and comfort, a brother of hers returned home from
the army, with a pension of 1_s._ a day. He was wild, and persuaded
her to break her pledge, and in a short time he got all her savings
from her and spent every penny. She could’nt shake him off, “for he was
the only kin she had on airth,” and “she must love her own flish and
bones.” Then began her misery. “It plased God to visit her ould limbs
with aches and throubles, and her hips swole with the cowld,” so that
she was at last forced into a hospital, and all that was left of her
store was “aten up by sufferin’s.” This, she assured me, all came about
by the “good father’s” leaving that parish for another one, but now he
had returned to them again, and, with his help and God’s blessing, she
would yet prosper once more.
Whilst I was in the room, the father entered, and “old Norah,”
half-divided between joy at seeing him and shame at “being again a
beggar,” laughed and wept at the same time. She stood wiping her eyes
with the shawl, and groaning out blessings on “his rivirince’s hid,”
begging of him not “to scould her for she was a wake woman.” The
renegade brother was had in to receive a lecture from “his rivirince.”
A more sottish idiotic face it would be difficult to imagine. He stood
with his hands hanging down like the paws of a dog begging, and his
two small eyes stared in the face of the priest, as he censured him,
without the least expression even of consciousness. Old Norah stood by,
groaning like a bagpipe, and writhing while the father spoke to her
“own brother,” as though every reproach were meant for her.