was the apparent listlessness and lazy appearance of the people. The
boys at play were the only beings who seemed to have any life in their
actions. The women in their plaid shawls strolled along the pavements,
stopping each friend for a chat, or joining some circle, and leaning
against the wall as though utterly deficient in energy. The men smoked,
with their hands in their pockets, listening to the old crones talking,
and only now and then grunting out a reply when a question was directly
put to them. And yet it is curious that these people, who here seemed
as inactive as negroes, will perform the severest bodily labour,
undertaking tasks that the English are almost unfitted for.
To complete this account, I subjoin a brief description of the
lodging-houses resorted to by the Irish immigrants on their arrival in
this country.
IRISH LODGING-HOUSES FOR IMMIGRANTS.
Often an Irish immigrant, whose object is to settle in London, arrives
by the Cork steamer without knowing a single friend to whom he can
apply for house-room or assistance of any kind. Sometimes a whole
family is landed late at night, worn out by sickness and the terrible
fatigues of a three days’ deck passage, almost paralysed by exhaustion,
and scarcely able to speak English enough to inquire for shelter till
morning.
If the immigrants, however, are bound for America, their lot is very
different. Then they are consigned to some agent in London, who is
always on the wharf at the time the steamer arrives, and takes the
strangers to the homes he has prepared for them until the New York
packet starts. During the two or three days’ necessary stay in London,
they are provided for at the agent’s expense, and no trouble is
experienced by the travellers. A large provision-merchant in the city
told me that he often, during the season, had as many as 500 Irish
consigned to him by one vessel, so that to lead them to their lodgings
was like walking at the head of a regiment of recruits.
The necessities of the immigrants in London have caused several
of their countrymen to open lodging-houses in the courts about
Rosemary-lane; these men attend the coming in of the Cork steamer, and
seek for customers among the poorest of the poor, after the manner of
touters to a sea-side hotel.
The immigrants’-houses are of two kinds--clean and dirty. The better
class of Irish lodging-houses almost startle one by the comfort and
cleanliness of the rooms; for after the descriptions you hear of the
state in which the deck passengers are landed from the Irish boats,
their clothes stained with the manure of the pigs, and drenched with
the spray, you somehow expect to find all the accommodations disgusting
and unwholesome. But one in particular, that I visited, had the floor
clean, and sprinkled with red sand, while the windows were sound,
bright, and transparent. The hobs of the large fire-place were piled up
with bright tin pots, and the chimney piece was white and red with the
china images ranged upon it. In one corner of the principal apartment
there stood two or three boxes still corded up, and with bundles
strung to the sides, and against the wall was hung a bunch of blue
cloaks, such as the Irishwomen wear. The proprietor of the house, who
was dressed in a gray tail-coat and knee-breeches, that had somewhat
the effect of a footman’s livery, told me that he had received seven
lodgers the day before, but six were men, and they were all out seeking
for work. In front of the fire sat a woman, bending over it so close
that the bright cotton gown she had on smelt of scorching. Her feet
were bare, and she held the soles of them near to the bars, curling
her toes about with the heat. She was a short, thick-set woman, with a
pair of wonderfully muscular arms crossed over her bosom, and her loose
rusty hair streaming over her neck. It was in vain that I spoke to her
about her journey, for she wouldn’t answer me, but kept her round, open
eyes fixed on my face with a wild, nervous look, following me about
with them everywhere.
Across the room hung a line, with the newly-washed and well-patched
clothes of the immigrants hanging to it, and on a side-table were
the six yellow basins that had been used for the men’s breakfasts.
During my visit, the neighbours, having observed a strange gentleman
enter, came pouring in, each proffering some fresh bit of news about
their newly-arrived countrymen. I was nearly stunned by half-a-dozen
voices speaking together, and telling me how the poor people had been
four days “at say,” so that they were glad to get near the pigs for
“warrumth,” and instructing me as to the best manner of laying out the
sum of money that it was supposed I was about to shower down upon the
immigrants.
In one of the worst class of lodging-houses I found ten human beings
living together in a small room. The apartment was entirely devoid of
all furniture, excepting an old mattrass rolled up against the wall,
and a dirty piece of cloth hung across one corner, to screen the women
whilst dressing. An old man, the father of five out of the ten, was
seated on a tea-chest, mending shoes, and the other men were looking on
with their hands in their pockets. Two girls and a woman were huddled
together on the floor in front of the fire, talking in Irish. All these
people seemed to be utterly devoid of energy, and the men moved about
so lazily that I couldn’t help asking some of them if they had tried
to obtain work. Every one turned to a good-looking young fellow lolling
against the wall, as if they expected him to answer for them. “Ah,
sure, and that they have,” was the reply; “it’s the docks they have
tried, worrus luck.” The others appeared struck with the truthfulness
of the answer, for they all shook their heads, and said, “Sure an’
that’s thruth, anyhow.” Here my Irish guide ventured an observation,
by remarking solemnly, “It’s no use tilling a lie;” to which the whole
room assented, by exclaiming altogether, “Thrue for you, Norah.” The
chosen spokesman then told me, “They paid half-a-crown a week for the
room, and that was as much as they could earrun, and it was starruve
they should if the neighbours didn’t hilp them a bit.” I asked them
if they were better off over here than when in Ireland, but could
get no direct answer, for my question only gave rise to a political
discussion. “There’s plenty of food over here,” said the spokesman,
addressing his companions as much as myself, “plenty of ’taties--plenty
of mate--plenty of porruk.” “But where the use,” observed my guide,
“if there’s no money to buy ’em wid?” to which the audience muttered,
“Thrue for you again, Norah;” and so it went on, each one pleading
poverty in the most eloquent style.
After I had left, the young fellow who had acted as spokesman followed
me into the street, and taking me into a corner, told me that he was
a “sailor by thrade, but had lost his ‘rigisthration-ticket,’ or he’d
have got a berruth long since, and that it was all for 3_s._ 6_d._ he
wasn’t at say.”
Concerning the number of Irish immigrants, I have obtained the
following information:
The great influx of the Irish into London was in the year of the
famine, 1847-8. This cannot be better shown than by citing the returns
of the number of persons admitted into the Asylum for the Houseless
Poor, in Playhouse-yard, Cripplegate. These returns I obtained for
fourteen years, and the average number of admissions of the applicants
from all parts during that time was 8,794 yearly. Of these, the Irish
averaged 2,455 yearly, or considerably more than a fourth of the whole
number received. The total number of applicants thus sheltered in the
fourteen years was 130,625, of which the Irish numbered 34,378. The
smallest number of Irish (men, women, and children) admitted, was in
1834-5, about 300; in 1846-7, it was as many as 7,576, while in 1847-8,
it was 10,756, and in 1848-9, 5,068.
But it was into Liverpool that the tide of immigration flowed the
strongest, in the calamitous year of the famine. “Between the 13th
Jan., and the 13th Dec., both inclusive,” writes Mr. Rushton, the
Liverpool magistrate, to Sir G. Grey, on the 21st April last, “296,231
persons landed in this port (Liverpool) from Ireland. Of this vast
number, about 130,000 emigrated to the United States; some 50,000 were
passengers on business; and the remainder (161,231), mere paupers,
half-naked and starving, landed, for the most part, during the winter,
and became, immediately on landing, applicants for parochial relief.
You already know the immediate results of this accumulation of misery
in the crowded town of Liverpool; of the cost of relief at once
rendered necessary to prevent the thousands of hungry and naked Irish
perishing in our streets; and also of the cost of the pestilence which
generally follows in the train of famine and misery such as we then had
to encounter.... Hundreds of patients perished, notwithstanding all
efforts made to save them; and ten Roman Catholic and one Protestant
clergyman, many parochial officers, and many medical men, who devoted
themselves to the task of alleviating the sufferings of the wretched,
died in the discharge of these high duties.”
Great numbers of these people were, at the same time, also conveyed
from Ireland to Wales, especially to Newport. They were brought over
by coal-vessels as a return cargo--a living ballast--2_s._ 6_d._ being
the highest fare, and were huddled together like pigs. The manager
of the Newport tramp-house has stated concerning these people, “They
don’t live long, diseased as they are. They are very remarkable; they
will eat salt by basons-full, and drink a great quantity of water
after. I have frequently known those who could not have been hungry eat
cabbage-leaves and other refuse from the ash-heap.”
It is necessary that I should thus briefly allude to this matter,
as there is no doubt that some of these people, making their way to
London, soon became street-sellers there, and many of them took to the
business subsequently, when there was no employment in harvesting,
hop-picking, &c. Of the poor wretches landed at Liverpool, many (Mr.
Rushton states) became beggars, and many thieves. Many, there is no
doubt, tramped their way to London, sleeping at the “casual wards” of
the Unions on their way; but I believe that of those who had become
habituated to the practice of beggary or theft, few or none would
follow the occupation of street-selling, as even the half-passive
industry of such a calling would be irksome to the apathetic and
dishonest.
Of the immigration, direct by the vessels trading from Ireland to
London, there are no returns such has have been collected by Mr.
Rushton for Liverpool, but the influx is comparatively small, on
account of the greater length and cost of the voyage. During the last
year I am informed that 15,000 or 16,000 passengers were brought
from Ireland to London direct, and, in addition to these, 500 more
were brought over from Cork in connection with the arrangements for
emigration to the United States, and consigned to the emigration
agent here. Of the 15,500 (taking the mean between the two numbers
above given) 1,000 emigrated to the United States. It appears, on
the authority of Mr. Rushton, that even in the great year of the
immigration, more than one-sixth of the passengers from Ireland to
Dublin came on business. It may, then, be reasonable to calculate that
during last year one-fourth at least of the passengers to London had
the same object in view, leaving about 10,000 persons who have either
emigrated to British North America, Australia, &c., or have resorted
to some mode of subsistence in the metropolis or the adjacent parts.
Besides these there are the numbers who make their way up to London,
tramping it from the several provincial ports--namely, Liverpool,
Bristol, Newport, and Glasgow. Of these I have no means of forming
any estimate, or of the proportion who adopt street-selling on their
arrival here--all that can be said is, that the influx of Irish into
the street-trade every year must be very considerable. I believe,
however, that only those who “have friends in the line” resort to
street-selling on their arrival in London, though all may make it a
resource when other endeavours fail. The great immigration into London
is from Cork, the average cost of a deck passage being 5_s._ The
immigrants direct to London from Cork are rarely of the poorest class.
OF THE DIET, DRINK, AND EXPENSE OF LIVING OF THE STREET-IRISH.
The diet of the Irish men, women, and children, who obtain a livelihood
(or what is so designated) by street-sale in London, has, I am told,
on good authority, experienced a change. In the lodging-houses that
they resorted to, their breakfast, two or three years ago, was a
dish of potatoes--two, three, or four lbs., or more, in weight--for
a family. Now half an ounce of coffee (half chicory) costs 1/2_d._,
and that, with the half or quarter of a loaf, according to the number
in family, is almost always their breakfast at the present time. When
their constant diet was potatoes, there were frequent squabbles at the
lodging-houses--to which many of the poor Irish on their first arrival
resort--as to whether the potato-pot or the tea-kettle should have the
preference on the fire. A man of superior intelligence, who had been
driven to sleep and eat occasionally in lodging-houses, told me of some
dialogues he had heard on these occasions:--“It’s about three years
ago,” he said, “since I heard a bitter old Englishwoman say, ‘To ----
with your ’taty-pot; they’re only meat for pigs.’ ‘Sure, thin,’ said
a young Irishman--he was a nice ’cute fellow--‘sure, thin, ma’am, I
should be afther offering you a taste.’ I heard that myself, sir. You
may have noticed, that when an Irishman doesn’t get out of temper, he
never loses his politeness, or rather his blarney.”
The dinner, or second meal of the day--assuming that there has been
a breakfast--ordinarily consists of cheap fish and potatoes. Of the
diet of the poor street-Irish I had an account from a little Irishman,
then keeping an oyster-stall, though he generally sold fruit. In all
such details I have found the Irish far more communicative than the
English. Many a poor untaught Englishman will shrink from speaking of
his spare diet, and his trouble to procure that; a reserve, too, much
more noticeable among the men than the women. My Irish informant told
me he usually had his breakfast at a lodging-house--he preferred a
lodging-house, he said, on account of the warmth and the society. Here
he boiled half an ounce of coffee, costing a 1/2_d._ He purchased of
his landlady the fourth of a quartern loaf (1-1/4_d._ or 1-1/2_d._),
for she generally cut a quartern loaf into four for her single men
lodgers, such as himself, clearing sometimes a farthing or two thereby.
For dinner, my informant boiled at the lodging-house two or three lbs.
of potatoes, costing usually 1_d._ or 1-1/4_d._, and fried three, or
four herrings, or as many as cost a penny. He sometimes mashed his
potatoes, and spread over them the herrings, the fatty portion of which
flavoured the potatoes, which were further flavoured by the roes of the
herrings being crushed into them. He drank water to this meal, and the
cost of the whole was 2_d._ or 2-1/2_d._ A neighbouring stall-keeper
attended to this man’s stock in his absence at dinner, and my informant
did the same for him in his turn. For “tea” he expended 1_d._ on
coffee, or 1-1/2_d._ on tea, being a “cup” of tea, or “half-pint
of coffee,” at a coffee-shop. Sometimes he had a halfpenny-worth
of butter, and with his tea he ate the bread he had saved from his
breakfast, and which he had carried in his pocket. He had no butter to
his breakfast, he said, for he could not buy less than a pennyworth
about where he lodged, and this was too dear for one meal. On a Sunday
morning however he generally had butter, sometimes joining with a
fellow-lodger for a pennyworth; for his Sunday dinner he had a piece of
meat, which cost him 2_d._ on the Saturday night. Supper he dispensed
with, but if he felt much tired he had a half-pint of beer, which was
three farthings “in his own jug,” before he went to bed, about nine or
ten, as he did little or nothing late at night, except on Saturday.
He thus spent 4-1/2_d._ a day for food, and reckoning 2-1/2_d._ extra
for somewhat better fare on a Sunday, his board was 2_s._ 10_d._ a
week. His earnings he computed at 5_s._, and thus he had 2_s._ 2_d._
weekly for other expenses. Of these there was 1_s._ for lodging; 2_d._
or 3_d._ for washing (but this not every week); 1/2_d._ for a Sunday
morning’s shave; 1_d._ “for his religion” (as he worded it); and 6_d._
for “odds and ends,” such as thread to mend his clothes, a piece of
leather to patch his shoes, worsted to darn his stockings, &c. He was
subject to rheumatism, or “he might have saved a trifle of money.”
Judging by his methodical habits, it was probable he had done so. He
had nothing of the eloquence of his countrymen, and seemed indeed of
rather a morose turn.
A family boarding together live even cheaper than this man, for more
potatoes and less fish fall to the share of the children. A meal too
is not unfrequently saved in this manner:--If a man, his wife, and
two children, all go out in the streets selling, they breakfast before
starting, and perhaps agree to re-assemble at four o’clock. Then the
wife prepares the dinner of fish and potatoes, and so tea is dispensed
with. In that case the husband’s and wife’s board would be 4_d._ or
4-1/2_d._ a day each, the children’s 3_d._ or 3-1/2_d._ each, and
giving 1-1/2_d._ extra to each for Sunday, the weekly cost is 10_s._
3_d._ Supposing the husband and wife cleared 5_s._ a week each, and the
children each 3_s._, their earnings would be 16_s._ The balance is the
surplus left to pay rent, washing, firing, and clothing.
From what I can ascertain, the Irish street-seller can always live
at about half the cost of the English costermonger; the Englishman
must have butter for his bread, and meat at no long intervals, for he
“hates fish more than once a week.” It is by this spareness of living,
as well as by frequently importunate and mendacious begging, that the
street-Irish manage to save money.
The diet I have spoken of is _generally_, but not universally, that of
the poor street-Irish; those who live differently, do not, as a rule,
incur greater expense.
It is difficult to ascertain in what proportion the Irish
street-sellers consume strong drink, when compared with the consumption
of the English costers; as a poor Irishman, if questioned on that
or any subject, will far more frequently shape his reply to what he
thinks will please his querist and induce a trifle for himself, than
answer according to the truth. The landlord of a large public-house,
after inquiring of his assistants, that his opinions might be checked
by theirs, told me that in one respect there was a marked difference
between the beer-drinking of the two people. He considered that in the
poor streets near his house there were residing quite as many Irish
street-sellers and labourers as English, but the instances in which the
Irish conveyed beer to their own rooms, as a portion of their meals,
was not as 1 in 20 compared with the English: “I have read your work,
sir,” he said, “and I know that you are quite right in saying that
the costermongers go for a good Sunday dinner. I don’t know what my
customers are except by their appearance, but I do know that many are
costermongers, and by the best of all proofs, for I have bought fish,
fruit, and vegetables of them. Well, now, we’ll take a fine Sunday in
spring or summer, when times are pretty good with them; and, perhaps,
in the ten minutes after my doors are opened at one on the Sunday,
there are 100 customers for their dinner-beer. Nearly three-quarters of
these are working men and their wives, working either in the streets,
or at their indoor trades, such as tailoring. But among the number,
I’m satisfied, there are not more than two Irishmen. There may be
three or four Irishwomen, but one of my barmen tells me he knows that
two of them--very well-behaved and good-looking women--are married to
Englishmen. In my opinion the proportion, as to Sunday dinner-beer,
between English and Irish, may be two or three in 70.”
An Irish gentleman and his wife, who are both well acquainted with
the habits and condition of the people in their own country, informed
me, that among the classes who, though earning only scant incomes,
could not well be called “impoverished,” the use of beer, or even
of small ale--known, now or recently--as “Thunder’s thruppeny,” was
very unfrequent. Even in many “independent” families, only water is
drunk at dinner, with punch to follow. This shows the accuracy of
the information I derived from Mr. ---- (the innkeeper), for persons
unused to the drinking of malt liquor in their own country are not
likely to resort to it afterwards, when their means are limited. I was
further informed, that reckoning the teetotallers among the English
street-sellers at 300, there are 600 among the Irish,--teetotallers
too, who, having taken the pledge, under the sanction of their priests,
and looking upon it as a religious obligation, keep it rigidly.
The Irish street-sellers who frequent the gin-palaces or public-houses,
drink a pot of beer, in a company of three or four, but far more
frequently, a quartern of gin (very seldom whisky) oftener than do the
English. Indeed, from all I could ascertain, the Irish street-sellers,
whether from inferior earnings, their early training, or the restraints
of their priests, drink less beer, by one-fourth, than their English
brethren, but a larger proportion of gin. “And you must bear this in
mind, sir,” I was told by an innkeeper, “I had rather have twenty
poor Englishmen drunk in my tap-room than a couple of poor Irishmen.
They’ll quarrel with anybody--the Irish will--and sometimes clear the
room by swearing they’ll ‘use their knives, by Jasus;’ and if there’s
a scuffle they’ll kick like devils, and scratch, and bite, like women
or cats, instead of using their fists. I wish all the drunkards were
teetotallers, if it were only to be rid of them.”
Whiskey, I was told, would be drunk by the Irish, in preference to
gin, were it not that gin was about half the price. One old Irish
fruit-seller--who admitted that he was fond of a glass of gin--told
me that he had not tasted whiskey for fourteen years, “becase of the
price.” The Irish, moreover, as I have shown, live on stronger and
coarser food than the English, buying all the rough (bad) fish, for, to
use the words of one of my informants, they look to quantity more than
quality; this may account for their preferring a stronger and fiercer
stimulant by way of drink.
OF THE RESOURCES OF THE STREET-IRISH AS REGARDS “STOCK-MONEY,”
SICKNESS, BURIALS, &C.
It is not easy to ascertain from the poor Irish themselves how they
raise their stock-money, for their command of money is a subject on
which they are not communicative, or, if communicative, not truthful.
“My opinion is,” said an Irish gentleman to me, “that some of these
poor fellows would declare to God that they hadn’t the value of a
halfpenny, even if you heard the silver chink in their pockets.” It is
certain that they never, or very rarely, borrow of the usurers like
their English brethren.
The more usual custom is, that if a poor Irish street-seller be in
want of 5_s._, it is lent to him by the more prosperous people of his
court--bricklayers’ labourers, or other working-men--who club 1_s._
a piece. This is always repaid. An Irish bricklayer, when in full
work, will trust a needy countryman with some article to pledge, on
the understanding that it is to be redeemed and returned when the
borrower is able. Sometimes, if a poor Irishwoman need 1_s._ to buy
oranges, four others--only less poor than herself, because not utterly
penniless--will readily advance 3_d._ each. Money is also advanced to
the deserving Irish through the agency of the Roman Catholic priests,
who are the medium through whom charitable persons of their own faith
exercise good offices. Money, too, there is no doubt, is often advanced
out of the priest’s own pocket.