In “the Brill,” or rather in Brill-place, Somers’-town, there is a
variety of courts branching out into Chapel-street, and in one of the
most angular and obscure of these is to be found a perfect nest of
rat-catchers--not altogether professional rat-catchers, but for the
most part sporting mechanics and costermongers. The court is not easily
to be found, being inhabited by men not so well known in the immediate
neighbourhood as perhaps a mile or two away, and only to be discovered
by the aid and direction of the little girl at the neighbouring
cat’s-meat shop.
My first experience of this court was the usual disturbance at the
entrance. I found one end or branch of it filled with a mob of eager
listeners, principally women, all attracted to a particular house by
the sounds of quarrelling. One man gave it as his opinion that the
disturbers must have earned too much money yesterday; and a woman,
speaking to another who had just come out, lifting up both her hands
and laughing, said, “Here they are--_at it_ again!”
The rat-killer whom we were in search of was out at his stall in
Chapel-street when we called, but his wife soon fetched him. He was a
strong, sturdy-looking man, rather above the middle height, with light
hair, ending in sandy whiskers, reaching under his chin, sharp deep-set
eyes, a tight-skinned nose that looked as if the cuticle had been
stretched to its utmost on its bridge. He was dressed in the ordinary
corduroy costermonger habit, having, in addition, a dark blue Guernsey
drawn over his waistcoat.
The man’s first anxiety was to show us that rats were not his only
diversion; and in consequence he took us into the yard of the house,
where in a shed lay a bull-dog, a bull-bitch, and a litter of pups just
a week old. They did not belong to him, but he said he did a good deal
in the way of curing dogs when he could get ’em.
On a shelf in this shed were two large dishes, the one containing
mussels without the shells, and the other eels; these are the
commodities in which he deals at present, so that he is properly what
one would call a “pickled-eel seller.”
We found his room on the first-floor clean and tidy, of a good
size, containing two bedsteads and a large sea-chest, besides an
old-fashioned, rickety, mahogany table, while in a far corner of the
room, perhaps waiting for the cold weather and the winter’s fire, was
an arm-chair. Behind the door hung a couple of dog-leads, made of
strong leather, and ornamented with brass. Against one side of the
wall were two framed engravings of animals, and a sort of chart of
animated nature, while over the mantel-shelf was a variety of most
characteristic articles. Among these appeared a model of a bull-dog’s
head, cut out of sandstone, and painted in imitation of nature--a most
marvellous piece of ugliness. “He was the best dog I ever see,” said
the host, “and when I parted with him for a ten-pound note, a man as
worked in the New Road took and made this model--he was a real beauty,
was that dog. The man as carved that there, didn’t have no difficulty
in holdin’ him still, becos he was very good at that sort o’ thing; and
when he’d looked at anything he couldn’t be off doin’ it.”
There were also a great many common prints about the walls, “a penny
each, frame and all,” amongst which were four dogs--all ratting--a game
cock, two Robinson Crusoes, and three scripture subjects.
There was, besides, a photograph of another favourite dog which he’d
“had give him.”
The man apologised for the bareness of the room, but said, “You see,
master, my brother went over to ’Merica contracting for a railway
under Peto’s, and they sends to me about a year ago, telling me to get
together as many likely fellows as I could (about a dozen), and take
them over as excavators; and when I was ready, to go to Peto’s and get
what money I wanted. But when I’d got the men, sold off all my sticks,
and went for the money, they told me my brother had got plenty, and
that if he wanted me he ought to be ashamed of hisself not to send some
over hisself; so I just got together these few things again, and I
ain’t heard of nothing at all about it since.”
After I had satisfied him that I was not a collector of dog-tax, trying
to find out how many animals he kept, he gave me what he evidently
thought was “a treat”--a peep at his bull-dog, which he fetched from
upstairs, and let it jump about the room with a most unpleasant
liberty, informing me the while how he had given five pound for him,
and that one of the first pups he got by a bull he had got five pounds
for, and that cleared him. “That Punch” (the bull-dog’s name), he
said, “is as quiet as a lamb--wouldn’t hurt nobody; I frequently takes
him through the streets without a lead. Sartainly he killed a cat the
t’other afternoon, but he couldn’t help that, ’cause the cat flew at
him; though he took it as quietly as a man would a woman in a passion,
and only went at her just to save his eyes. But you couldn’t easy get
him off, master, when he once got a holt. He was a good one for rats,
and, he believed, the stanchest and tricksiest dog in London.”
When he had taken the brute upstairs, for which I was not a little
thankful, the man made the following statement:--
“I a’n’t a Londoner. I’ve travelled all about the country. I’m a
native of Iver, in Buckinghamshire. I’ve been three year here at these
lodgings, and five year in London altogether up to last September.
“Before I come to London I was nothink, sir--a labouring man, an
eshkewator. I come to London the same as the rest, to do anythink I
could. I was at work at the eshkewations at King’s Cross Station. I
work as hard as any man in London, I think.
“When the station was finished, I, having a large family, thought
I’d do the best I could, so I went to be foreman at the Caledonian
Sawmills. I stopped there a twelvemonth; but one day I went for a load
and a-half of lime, and where you fetches a load and a-half of lime
they always gives you fourpence. So as I was having a pint of beer out
of it, my master come by and saw me drinking, and give me the sack.
Then he wanted me to ax his pardon, and I might stop; but I told him I
wouldn’t beg no one’s pardon for drinking a pint of beer as was give
me. So I left there.
“Ever since the Great Western was begun, my family has been distributed
all over the country, wherever there was a railway making. My brothers
were contractors for Peto, and I generally worked for my brothers; but
they’ve gone to America, and taken a contract for a railway at St.
John’s, New Brunswick, British North America. I can do anything in the
eshkewating way--I don’t care what it is.
“After I left the Caledonian Sawmills I went to Billingsgate, and
bought anythink I could see a chance of gettin’ a shilling out on, or
to’ards keeping my family.
“All my lifetime I’ve been a-dealing a little in rats; but it was not
till I come to London that I turned my mind fully to that sort of
thing. My father always had a great notion of the same. We all like the
sport. When any on us was in the country, and the farmers wanted us to,
we’d do it. If anybody heerd tell of my being an activish chap like, in
that sort of way, they’d get me to come for a day or so.
“If anybody has a place that’s eaten up with rats, I goes and gets some
ferruts, and takes a dog, if I’ve got one, and manages to kill ’em.
Sometimes I keep my own ferruts, but mostly I borrows them. This young
man that’s with me, he’ll sometimes have an order to go fifty or sixty
mile into the country, and then he buys his ferruts, or gets them the
best way he can. They charges a good sum for the loan of ’em--sometimes
as much as you get for the job.
“You can buy ferruts at Leadenhall-market for 5_s._ or 7_s._--it all
depends; you can’t get them all at one price, some of ’em is real
cowards to what others is; some won’t even kill a rat. The way we tries
’em is, we puts ’em down anywhere, in a room maybe, with a rat, and if
they smell about and won’t go up to it, why they won’t do; ’cause you
see, sometimes the ferrut has to go up a hole, and at the end there may
be a dozen or sixteen rats, and if he hasn’t got the heart to tackle
one on ’em, why he ain’t worth a farden.
“I have kept ferruts for four or five months at a time, but they’re
nasty stinking things. I’ve had them get loose; but, bless you, they
do no harm, they’re as hinnocent as cats; they won’t hurt nothink;
you can play with them like a kitten. Some puts things down to ketch
rats--sorts of pison, which is their secret--but I don’t. I relies upon
my dogs and ferruts, and nothink else.
“I went to destroy a few rats up at Russell-square; there was a shore
come right along, and a few holes--they was swarmed with ’em there--and
didn’t know how it was; but the cleverest men in the world couldn’t
ketch many there, ’cause you see, master, they run down the hole into
the shore, and no dog could get through a rat-hole.
“I couldn’t get my living, though, at that business. If any gentleman
comes to me and says he wants a dog cured, or a few rats destroyed, I
does it.
“In the country they give you fourpence a rat, and you can kill
sometimes as many in a farmyard as you can in London. The most I
ever got for destroying rats was four bob, and then I filled up the
brickwork and made the holes good, and there was no more come.
“I calls myself a coster; some calls theirselves general dealers, but
I doesn’t. I goes to market, and if one thing don’t suit, why I buys
another.
“I don’t know whether you’ve heerd of it, master, or not, but I’m the
man as they say kills rats--that’s to say, I kills ’em like a dog. I’m
almost ashamed to mention it, and I shall never do it any more, but
I’ve killed rats for a wager often. You see it’s only been done like
for a lark; we’ve bin all together daring one another, and trying to
do something as nobody else could. I remember the first time I did it
for a wager, it was up at ----, where they’ve got a pit. There was a
bull-dog a killing rats, so I says,
“‘Oh, that’s a duffin’ dog; any dog could kill quicker than him. I’d
kill again him myself.’
“Well, then they chaffed me, and I warn’t goin’ to be done; so I says,
“‘I’ll kill again that dog for a sov’rin.’
“The sov’rin was staked. I went down to kill eight rats again the dog,
and I beat him. I killed ’em like a dog, with my teeth. I went down
hands and knees and bit ’em. I’ve done it three times for a sov’rin,
and I’ve won each time. I feels very much ashamed of it, though.
“On the hind part of my neck, as you may see, sir, there’s a scar;
that’s where I was bit by one; the rat twisted hisself round and held
on like a vice. It was very bad, sir, for a long time; it festered, and
broke out once or twice, but it’s all right now.”