Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
know the shop--it is but seldom I get out of the way, so come along--I
dare say we shall see some more fun yet.”
Saying this, he led the way down Thames street and in a short time
introduced them to the celebrated house in Dark-House Lane, kept open
at all hours of the night for the accommodation of persons coming to
market, and going off by the Gravesend boats and packets early in the
morning.
On entering this house of nocturnal convenience, a wide field for
observation was immediately opened to the mind of Dashall: he was no
novice to the varieties of character generally to be found within its
walls; and he anticipated an opportunity of imparting considerable
information to his Cousin, though somewhat clogg'd by his companions;
being known however at the bar, he found no difficulty in providing them
with beds: which being accomplished,
“Now,” said Tom, “for a new scene in Real Life. Here we are situated at
Billingsgate, on the banks of the Thames; in another hour it will be all
alive--we will refresh ourselves with coffee, and then look around us;
but while it is preparing, we will take a survey of the interior--button
up--tie a silk handkerchief round your neck, and we may perhaps escape
suspicion of being mere lookers on; by which means we shall be enabled
to mingle with the customers in the tap-room, and no doubt you will see
some rum ones.”
They now entered the tap or general room, which exhibited an appearance
beyond the powers of description.
In one corner lay a Sailor fast asleep, having taken so much ballast on
board as to prevent the possibility of any longer attending to the log,
but with due precaution resting his head on a bundle which he intended
to take on board his ship with him in the morning, and apparently
well guarded by a female on each side; in another was a weather-beaten
Fisherman in a Guernsey frock and a thick ~294~~ woollen night-cap, who,
having just arrived with a cargo of fish, was toiling away time till
the commencement of the market with a pipe and a pint, by whose side was
seated a large Newfoundland dog, whose gravity of countenance formed an
excellent contrast with that of a man who was entertaining the Fisherman
with a history of his adventures through the day, and who in return was
allowed to participate in the repeatedly filled pint--a Waterman in
his coat and badge ready for a customer--and two women, each having a
shallow basket for the purpose of supplying themselves with fish at the
first market for the next day's sale.
'Going to Gravesend, Gentlemen?' enquired the Waterman, as Tom and Bob
took their seats near him.
“No,” was the reply.
“Beg pardon, Sir; thought as how you was going down, and mought want a
boat, that's all; hope no offence.”
“I vas down at the Frying Pan in Brick Lane yesterday, (said the
communicative adventurer;) Snivelling Bill and Carrotty Poll was there
in rum order--you know Carrotty? Poll? so Poll, (Good health to you) you
knows how gallows lushy she gets--veil, as I vas saying, she had had a
good day vith her fish, and bang she comes back to Bill--you knows she's
rather nutty upon Bill, and according to my thinking they manages things
pretty veil together, only you see as how she is too many for him: so,
vhen she comes back, b------tme if Bill vasn't a playing at skittles,
and hadn't sold a dab all day; howsomdever he was a vinning the lush,
so you know Bill didn't care--but, my eyes! how she did blow him up vhen
she com'd in and see'd him just a going to bowl and tip, she tipp'd him
a vollopper right across the snout vhat made the skittles dance again,
and bang goes the bowl at her sconce instead of the skittles: it vas
lucky for her it did not hit her, for if it had, I'll be d------d if
ever she'd a cried Buy my live flounders any more--he vas at play vith
Sam Stripe the tailor; so the flea-catcher he jumps in between 'em,
and being a piece-botcher, he thought he could be peace-maker, but
it voudn't do, tho' he jump'd about like a parch'd pea in a
frying-pan--Poll called him Stitch louse, bid him pick up his needles
and be off--Bill vanted to get at Poll, Poll vanted to get at Bill--and
between them the poor Tailor got more stripes upon his jacket than
there is colours in a harlequin's breeches at Bartlemy Fair--Here's
good health to you--it was a ~295~~ bodkin to a but of brandy poor Snip
didn't skip out of this here vorld into that 'are?”
“And how did they settle it?” enquired the Fisherman.
'I'll tell you all about it: I never see'd such a b------dy lark in all
my life; poor Sam is at all times as thin as a thread-paper, and being
but the ninth part of a man, he stood no chance between a man and
a voman--Bill vas bleeding at the konk like a half-killed hog, and
Carrotty Moll, full of fire and fury, vas defending herself vith her
fish-basket--Billy vas a snivelling, Poll a stoearing, and the poor
Tailor in a funk--thinks I to myself, this here vont never do--so up
I goes to Poll--Poll, says I------' To the devil I pitch you,' says
she--only you know I knows Poll veil enough--she tried to sneak it
over me, but she found as how I know'd better--Poll, says I, hold your
luff--give us no more patter about this here rum rig--I'll give cost
price for the fish, and you shall have the money; and while I was
bargaining with her, d------n me if Bill and the Tailor vasn't a milling
avay in good style, till Stripe's wife comes in, gives Snivelling Billy
a cross-buttock and bolted off vith her fancy, like as the song says,
The devil took the tailor
“Vith the broad cloth under his arm.”
I never laugh'd so in all my life; I thought I should------'
At this moment a nod from the Landlord informed Tom his coffee was
ready, when they were ushered into the parlour.
Bob, who had during the conversation in the other room, (which had
occasionally been interrupted by the snores of the sleepy Sailor, the
giggling of the Girls who appeared to have him in charge, and a growl
from the dog,) been particularly attentive to the narration of this
adventure, remarked that there was a peculiarity of dialect introduced,
which, to a person coming out of the country, would have been wholly
unintelligible.
“Yes,” replied Tom, “almost every trade and every calling of which the
numerous inhabitants of this overgrown town is composed, has a language
of its own, differing as widely from each other as those of provincials.
Nor is this less observable in high life, where every one seems at times
to aim at rendering himself conspicuous for some extraordinary mode of
expression. But come, I ~296~~ perceive the morning is shedding its
rays upon us, and we shall be able to take a survey of the more general
visitors to this place of extensive utility and resort--already you may
hear the rumbling of carts in Thames Street, and the shrill voice of the
Fishwives, who are preparing for a day's work, which they will nearly
finish before two-thirds of the population leave their pillows. This
market, which is principally supplied by fishing smacks and boats coming
from the sea up the river Thames, and partly by land carriage from every
distance within the limits of England, and part of Wales, is open every
morning at day-light, and supplies the retailers for some miles round
the Metropolis. The regular shop-keepers come here in carts, to purchase
of what is called the Fish Salesman, who stands as it were between the
Fisherman who brings his cargo to market and the Retailer; but there are
innumerable hawkers of fish through the streets, who come and purchase
for themselves at first hand, particularly of mackarel, herrings,
sprats, lobsters, shrimps, flounders, soles, &c. and also of cod
and salmon when in season, and at a moderate rate, composing an
heterogeneous group of persons and characters, not easily to be met with
elsewhere.” “Then,” said Bob, “there is a certainty of high and
exalted entertainment;--I should suppose the supply of fish is very
considerable.”
“The quantity of fish consumed,” replied Tom, “in London is
comparatively small, fish being excessively dear in general: and this
is perhaps the most culpable defect in the supply of the capital,
considering that the rivers of Great Britain and the seas round her
coast teem with that food.--There are on an average about 2500 cargoes
of fish, of 40 tons each, brought to Billingsgate, and about 20,000 tons
by land carriage, making a total of about 120,000 tons; and the street
venders form a sample of low life in all its situations.
“--------In such indexes, although small
To their subsequent volumes, there is seen
The baby figure of the giant mass
Of things to come at large.”
And the language you have already heard forms a part of what may be
termed Cockneyism.”
“Cockneyism,” said Bob, with an inquisitiveness in his countenance.
~297~~ “Yes,” continued Tom, “Cockney is universally known to be the
contemptuous appellation given to an uneducated native of London,
brought into life within the sound of Bow bell--pert and conceited,
yet truly ignorant, they generally discover themselves by their mode of
speech, notwithstanding they have frequent opportunities of hearing the
best language; the cause, I apprehend, is a carelessness of every thing
but the accumulation of money, which is considered so important with
them--that they seem at all times to be in eager pursuit of it.
“O Plutus, god of gold! thine aid impart,
Teach me to catch the money-catching art;
Or, sly Mercurius! pilfering god of old,
Thy lesser mysteries at least unfold.”
You will hear these gentry frequently deliver themselves in something
like the following manner:
“My eyes, Jim, vat slippy valking 'tis this here morning--I should ave
fell'd right down if so be as how I adn't cotch'd ould of a postis--vere
does you thinks I ave been? vy all the vay to Vapping Vail, an a top o
Tower Hill--I seed a voman pillar'd--such scrouging and squeeging, and
peltin vith heggs--ow funny!
“A female Fruit-seller will say to a Lady Oyster-dealer--Law, my dear
Mrs. Melton, how ar you this cowld morning, Mem.?--the streets vil be
nice and dirty--vel, for my part, I always likes dry vether--do your
usband vork at Foxall still?--I likes to warm my cowld nose vith a
pinch of your snuff--ow wery obliging--But come, I hear the bustle of
Billingsgate, and you shall have a peep at the people. By this time they
are all alive.”
Bob laughed at his Cousin's specimens of cockney language, and they
sallied forth, to make further observations.
It was now a fine morning, the Sun shone with resplendent lustre upon
all around them, and danced in playful dimples on the sportive Thames;
there was however but little opportunity at the moment for them to
contemplate subjects of this sort, their eyes and ears being wholly
attracted by the passing and repassing of the persons desirous to sell
or supply themselves with fish; Thames Street was almost blocked up with
carts, and the hallooing and bawling of the different drivers, loading
or unloading, formed an occasional symphony to the ~298~~ continual hum
of those who were moving in all directions to and from the market.
“By yer leaf” said a sturdy built fellow, sweating under a load of fish
which appeared to press him almost down--“what the devil do you stand in
the way for?”
Bob, in stepping on one side to make room for this man to pass,
unfortunately trod upon the toe of an Hibernian lady, who was bearing
away a large basket of shrimps alive, and at the same time gave her arm
so forcible a jerk with his elbow, as disengaged her hand from the load;
by which means the whole cargo was overturned smack into the bosom of a
smartly dressed youth in white ducks, who was conducting some Ladies