BILLINGSGATE FISH MARKET.
WHEN a foot passenger crossing London Bridge looks down the river to
the left, he cannot help noticing a little cluster of masts tapering
upward from a series of small hulks and craft which lie quite near to
each other, in the shadow of a long building of part brick and stone,
the river side of which is open and crowded with people of both sexes
from an early hour of the morning.
This is the famous Billingsgate Fish Market, which has given or
originated a synonym for blackguardism and low abuse all the world over.
The market for many years consisted of a collection of wooden pent
houses, rude sheds, and benches, and the business formerly commenced
at three o'clock in the summer and at five in winter. In the latter
season it was a strange scene, its large, flaming lamps of oil, showing
a crowd of fish venders and fish buyers struggling amid a Babel din of
vulgar tongues, which has rendered Billingsgate a by-word for abuse
and foul-mouthed language. Addison has referred to the Billingsgate
fish-wives and to their quarrels as "the debates which frequently arise
among ladies of the British fishery."
[Sidenote: PROFIT ON FISH.]
The old style Billingsgate fish-woman wore a strong, stiff gown tucked
up, with a large quilted petticoat; her hair, cap and bonnet flattened
into a mass from carrying fish baskets upon her head; her coarse
cracked voice, her bloated face and her large brawny limbs completing
the picture of the old Billingsgate "fish fag."
This virago has disappeared and a new market building was erected in
1849. A stone river-wall was constructed where an old mud bank formerly
existed and the surface was filled in and levelled to equalize the
grade in Thames street on which the market has its frontage. Within,
the ground was excavated and formed into a lower market, which has
two subterranean openings on the river, for the sale of shell-fish,
oysters, muscles, prawns, periwinkles, and whelks. These shell-fish are
kept in large half puncheons bound with iron hoops. The market has a
superficial area of 2,700 feet, but the drainage in the lower market
is very bad as it is below the level of the river. The upper market is
open to the public through two large arched apertures, 400 feet wide,
and below it is bounded by eighteen dark arches which are used by the
salesmen as depositories for their goods. These arches are entirely
without ventilation and even the market itself, thronged as it is for
twelve hours of the day, receives no air but that which comes in a
chance way from the already vitiated atmosphere of the neighborhood.
The market is covered on the side next to London Bridge by a roof of
rough glass. The light iron columns which serve to support the roof,
also serve to divide the market into a series of narrow gangways, and
within these gangways the dealers take their stand to vend and auction
the fish every morning, book and pencil in hand, and their aprons
hanging from their chests to their knees. There is a clock tower on
the building and a bell which is rung at five o'clock every morning to
announce the opening of the market, and then is witnessed a general
rush like the retreat of an army. The railways alone carry to this
market annually, 15,000 tons of fish, besides the amount which is
brought by water.
Five hundred years ago this market produced a rental of forty-six
pounds per annum; to-day there is a firm which has a small stall whose
profits on fish amount to £10,000 a year, and the good-will of one
fish merchant in the market, I believe, was purchased last year for
the large sum of £30,000. About the same time that the market rental
was forty-six pounds a year, the best soles sold for three pence per
dozen, the best turbot for six pence each, the best mackerel one penny
each, the best pickled herrings one penny the score; fresh oysters
two pennies a gallon, and the best eels two pennies per quarter of a
hundred. William Wallace, the Scottish hero, was then a prisoner in the
Tower, and Bannockburn had not been won by Bruce, and the ink on the
Magna Charta was hardly dry.
In 1548, although the king of England was a Protestant, and the
government a Protestant one, yet an act was passed which imposed a
penalty on those who ate flesh on fish days. This was to protect the
trade in the fisheries, however, and not to interfere with the private
religious opinions of the people. The consumption of fish in the
household of Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, in the year 1314, was 6,800
stock fish, consisting of ling, haberdine, &c., besides six barrels of
sturgeon, the whole valued at £60 of the money of that period.
It is four o'clock of a summer morning at Billingsgate market and all
London is as yet solitary, and the streets are unpeopled by traffic
or pedestrians. The sight from London Bridge is magnificent on such a
morning. In the words of the poet who looked upon this same scene:
"This city now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie,
Open unto the fields and to the sky
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at its own sweet will;
Dear God! The very houses seem asleep,
And all that mighty heart is still."
Riot, profligacy, want and misery have retired, and labor has scarcely
risen. As we approach Billingsgate, the profound silence of the dawn is
now and then broken by the wheels of the fishmonger's light cart, which
is proceeding to the market.
[Illustration: AN AUCTION AT BILLINGSGATE FISH MARKET.]
The whole area of the market, brilliantly lighted with streaming
flames of gas, comes into view. One might fancy that the stalls were
dressed for a feast. The tables of the salesmen, which are arranged
from one side of the covered area to the other, afford ample space
for clustering throngs of buyers around each. The stalls appear to
form one table, but the portion assigned to each is nine feet by six.
Each salesman sits with his back to another, and between them is a
wooden shelf, so that they are apparently enclosed in a recess, but
by this arrangement they escape having their pockets picked, a common
occurrence where there is a large crowd. There are about 200 fish
salesmen in London and half of that number have stalls in this market
for which a pretty good rent is paid.
Proceeding to the bottom of the market, we perceive the masts of the
fishing boats rising out of the fog which envelopes the river. The
boats lie considerably below the level of the market, and the descent
is by several ladders to a floating wharf, which rises and falls with
the tide, and is therefore always on the same level with the boats.
About fifty of these craft are moored alongside of each other.
[Sidenote: THE OYSTER BOATS.]
The oyster boats are crowded together by themselves. The buyer goes on
board the oyster boat, as oysters are not sold in the ordinary, morning
market. The fishermen and porters are busily engaged in arranging their
cargoes for quick delivery as soon as the market begins. Two or three
minutes before five the salesmen take their seats in the enclosed
recesses, watching each other eagerly. The porters with their dirty
canvass aprons and their huge scooped hats stand ready with their
baskets on their heads, but not one of them is allowed, however, to
have the advantage of his fellows by an unfair start, or to overstep
a line marked out by the clerk of the market. The instant the clock
strikes the melee commences and then woe to the bystander who blocks up
the way--he is knocked down and trampled on, and fish of all sizes are
spilled over his prostrate body, while his eyes, hands, limbs and other
members, are blessed with great fervor by the porters.
Each porter now rushes at his utmost speed to the respective salesman
to whom his basket is consigned. The largest codfish are brought in
baskets which contain four; those somewhat smaller are brought in
boxes; and smaller sizes in dozens, and still larger numbers, but
always in baskets. All fish are sold by the "tail," or by number
excepting salmon, which are sold by weight, and oysters and shell-fish
by measure. The baskets are instantly emptied on the tables, and the
porters hasten for a fresh supply. It is the fisherman's interest to
bring his whole cargo into the market as soon as possible, for if the
quantity brought to market be large, prices will fall the more quickly,
and if they are high, buyers purchase less freely, and he may miss the
sale. As, for example, a boat load of mackerel from Brighton sold at
Billingsgate for forty guineas per hundred, or seven shillings each,
an extraordinary price--while the next boat load produced but thirteen
guineas per hundred.
The majority of the fishing vessels are sloops and schooners under
fifty tons each, and of this number the greater part belong to ports on
the coast as follows:
Yarmouth 630
Faversham 416
Brighton 60
Dartmouth 357
Southampton 193
Maldon 218
Rochester 363
Colchester 318
Dover 180
Rye 80
Ramsgate 170
Salmon is conveyed by rail in large boxes, covered with pounded ice,
which preserves them fresh for six days, and sometimes in the summer
months as many as 3,000 boxes of salmon are received at Billingsgate
in a day. The salmon are sent to agents to be sold on commission at
a profit of five to ten per cent., the agent taking the risk of bad
debts, and the price varies from fivepence to a shilling a pound,
according to the supply in market.
[Sidenote: BREAKFAST AT BILLINGSGATE.]
The best time to see Billingsgate is of a Friday morning between six
and seven o'clock. The regular fish merchants come first and are served
first, and then their places are taken by the Costermongers, or street
pedlars, who buy the refuse, or what is left. Lower Thames street,
above and below London Bridge, is sure to be crammed full of fish carts
and fish porters running hither and thither with baskets of fish upon
their shoulders, and it is noticeable that the lower part of every
building is open and the spaces filled with fish of all kinds, chiefly
smoked and preserved fish, which are exposed in large baskets and boxes
for sale. The proprietors of these places, some of whom do business in
salted and smoked fish with every part of the civilized globe, stand
at the doors of their wholesale shops with large aprons upon them,
although their bank accounts may amount to scores of thousands of
pounds.
Up Fish street as far as the monument are long lines of carts waiting
for fish, drawn by asses and horses, and around the monument may be
seen a perfect circle of carts guarded by ragged boys, some of whom
contract to take care of a dozen carts at a time for a penny a cart,
while the Costers are purchasing the fish.
Formerly the consumption of spirits here among the buyers of fish was
very great, but now at a very early hour in the morning a hot cup of
coffee with a slice of bread and butter can be procured at any of the
numerous coffee stalls for twopence-halfpenny.
The men and women are shouting and hallooing at each other as if they
were mad. Old gentlemen who have a good appetite and come here to make
a market for their families, are very often seen to enter the tavern
called the "Three Tuns," which is in the market enclosure, and at which
a fish dinner or fish breakfast of three dishes can be procured for
eighteen pence. It is very puzzling at first to understand the cries,
which come hard and fast from the mouths of salesmen and hucksters,
costers and pedlars of newspapers, frequenters of coffee stands, and
other trades people.
"Now, you mussel buyers," shouts one, "come along--come along--now's
your time for fine, fat, greasy, mussels."
"All alive! al-ive oh--alive oh! Han-some cod! best in the market. All
alive oh!"
"Y-e-o--y-e-o! Y-e-o--here's your fine Yarmouth Bloaters! Who's the
buyer?"
"Here you are, guv'-ner; splendid whiting! some of the right sort."
"M-o-rning _T-e-l-e-graph_, one penny. _Standard_ and _Times_."
"Turbot! all alive--turbot."
"Glass o' nice peppermint! this cold morning--ha'penny a glass!"
"Here you are at yer hown price! Fine soles, Oh!"
"W-oy, w-o-y! Now's your time--preguzzling sprouts--all large and no
small 'uns."
"H-u-l-l-o, h-u-l-l-o, here, I say--bewteeful lobsters--good and
cheap--fine cock crabs, all alive, hoh."
"Never mind 'im, guvner; he'll cheat yer; look at this 'ere
turbot--have that lot for a pound--come and see--now don't go away,
guvner--the're preshis cheap, and filling at the price."
"Had-had-had-had-haddick--all fresh and good."
"Here, this way--this way for splendid Skate--Skate O--Skate O."
"Currant and meat puddin's, a penny each and werry 'ot." "Here's food
for the belly and clothes for the back, but I sell food for the mind"
(shouts the newspaper vender). "Here's smelt O!" "Here ye are, fine
Finney haddick!" "Hot soup! nice pea soup! a-all hot! hot! Ahoy! ahoy
here! live plaice! all alive O! Now or never! whelk! whelk! whelk!
whelk! Who'll buy brill O! brill O! Capes! waterproof capes! sure to
keep the wet out! a shilling a piece! Eels O! eels O! Alive! alive
O!" "Fine flounders, a shilling a lot! Who'll buy this prime lot of
flounders? Shrimps! shrimps! fine shrimps! Wink! wink! wink! Hi! hi-i!
here you are, just eight eels left, only eight! O ho! O ho! this
way--this way--this way! Fish alive! alive! alive O!"
[Sidenote: THE CAPITAL INVESTED.]
"Fresh do you call these?" says one who finds the price of a lot of
sprats too high for him. "Look a-how they rolls hup the vites of their
heyes, as hif they vanted a little rain. I should say they hadn't a
blessed smell of water for a week past."
"Think I've been a robbin' of somebody?" says another. "Vy, bless you,
all the whole bilin' of my customers hasn't got so much among 'em as
would buy the lot--no, not if they sold their veskits."
As many as two thousand persons breakfast at the coffee houses in the
neighborhood of Billingsgate every morning, all of whom are engaged in
the fish business.
The following estimate has been made of the gross amount of fish of
different kinds, sold at Billingsgate market in the course of the year:
Salmon 750,000
Live Codfish 600,000
Haddock 3,000,000
Flounders 420,000
Eels 12,000,000
Yarmouth Bloaters 200,000,000
Red Herrings 75,000,000
Sprats 1,200,000,000
Crabs 1,000,000
Oysters 500,000,000
Periwinkles 400,000,000
Whiting 60,000,000
Mackerel 30,000,000
Shrimps 600,000,000
Soles 120,000,000
Lobsters 2,500,000
The capital embarked in this trade is something enormous to think of.
Salmon when scarce, have sold for twenty shillings a pound. The market
is the property of the Municipality of London associated with the
Company of Fishmongers, one of the most powerful and wealthy corporate
societies in London. Fifty per cent. of the gross amount of fish
received at Billingsgate market is purchased by the Costermongers and
sold from carts in the streets, at a small profit to the pedlars.