 | OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF EATABLES AND DRINKABLES. London Labour and the London Poor, volume 1 |  |
OF THE EXPERIENCE OF A FRIED FISH-
SELLER, AND OF THE CLASS OF CUSTOMERS.
The man who gave me the following informa-
tion was well-looking, and might be about 45 or
50. He was poorly dressed, but his old brown
surtout fitted him close and well, was jauntily
buttoned up to his black satin stock, worn, but
of good quality; and, altogether, he had what is
understood among a class as "a betterly appear-
ance about him." His statement, as well as those
of the other vendors of provisions, is curious in
its details of public-house vagaries. —
"I've been in the trade," he said, "seventeen
years. Before that, I was a gentleman's ser-
vant, and I married a servant-maid, and we had
a family, and, on that account, couldn't, either
of us, get a situation, though we'd good charac-
ters. I was out of employ for seven or eight
months, and things was beginning to go to the
pawn for a living; but at last, when I gave up
any hope of getting into a gentleman's service, I
raised 10s., and determined to try something
else. I was persuaded, by a friend who kept a
beer-shop, to sell oysters at his door. I took his
advice, and went to Billingsgate for the first
time in my life, and bought a peck of oysters for
2s. 6d. I was dressed respectable then — nothing
like the mess and dirt I'm in now" [I may
observe, that there was no dirt about him];
"and so the salesman laid it on, but I gave him
all he asked. I know a deal better now. I'd
never been used to open oysters, and I couldn't
do it. I cut my fingers with the knife slipping
all over them, and had to hire a man to open for
me, or the blood from my cut fingers would have
run upon the oysters. For all that, I cleared
2s. 6d. on that peck, and I soon got up to the
trade, and did well; till, in two or three months,
the season got over, and I was advised, by the
same friend, to try fried fish. That suited me.
I've lived in good families, where there was
first-rate men-cooks, and I know what good
cooking means. I bought a dozen plaice; I
forget what I gave for them, but they were
dearer then than now. For all that, I took be-
tween 11s. and 12s. the first night — it was Satur-
day — that I started; and I stuck to it, and took
from 7s. to 10s. every night, with more, of course,
on Saturday, and it was half of it profit then. I
cleared a good mechanic's earnings at that time
— 30s. a week and more. Soon after, I was told
that, if agreeable, my wife could have a stall
with fried fish, opposite a wine-vaults just
opened, and she made nearly half as much as I
did on my rounds. I served the public-houses,
and soon got known. With some landlords I
had the privilege of the parlour, and tap-room,
and bar, when other tradesmen have been kept
out. The landlords will say to me still: `You
can go in, Fishy.' Somehow, I got the name of
`Fishy' then, and I've kept it ever since. There
was hospitality in those days. I've gone into a
room in a public-house, used by mechanics, and
one of them has said: `I'll stand fish round,
gentlemen;' and I've supplied fifteen penn'orths.
Perhaps he was a stranger, such a sort of cus-
tomer, that wanted to be agreeable. Now, it's
more likely I hear: `Jack, lend us a penny to
buy a bit of fried;' and then Jack says: `You
be d — d! here, lass, let's have another pint.'
The insults and difficulties I've had in the pub-
lic-house trade is dreadful. I once sold 16d.
worth to three rough-looking fellows I'd never
seen before, and they seemed hearty, and asked
me to drink with them, so I took a pull; but
they wouldn't pay me when I asked, and I
waited a goodish bit before I did ask. I thought,
at first, it was their fun, but I waited from four
to seven, and I found it was no fun. I felt
upset, and ran out and told the policeman, but
he said it was only a debt, and he couldn't inter-
fere. So I ran to the station, but the head man
there said the same, and told me I should hand
over the fish with one hand, and hold out the
other hand for my money. So I went back to
the public-house, and asked for my money — and
there was some mechanics that knew me there
then — but I got nothing but ` — you's!' and
one of 'em used most dreadful language. At
last, one of the mechanics said: `Muzzle him,
Fishy, if he won't pay.' He was far bigger than
me, him that was one in debt; but my spirit was
up, and I let go at him and gave him a bloody
nose, and the next hit I knocked him backwards,
I'm sure I don't know how, on to a table; but
I fell on him, and he clutched me by the coat-
collar — I was respectable dressed then — and half
smothered me. He tore the back of my coat,
too, and I went home like Jim Crow. The pot-
man and the others parted us, and they made
the man give me 1s., and the waiter paid me the
other 4d., and said he'd take his chance to get
it — but he never got it. Another time I went
into a bar, and there was a ball in the house, and
one of the ball gents came down and gave my
basket a kick without ever a word, and started
the fish; and in a scuffle — he was a little fellow,
but my master — I had this finger put out of
joint — you can see that, sir, still — and was in
the hospital a week from an injury to my leg;
the tiblin bone was hurt, the doctors said" [the
tibia.] "I've had my tray kicked over for a
lark in a public-house, and a scramble for my
[Description: 915EAF. Page 170.]
me. The landlords always prevent such things,
when they can, and interfere for a poor man;
but then it's done sudden, and over in an instant.
That sort of thing wasn't the worst. I once had
some powdery stuff flung sudden over me at a
parlour door. My fish fell off, for I jumped,
because I felt blinded, and what became of them
I don't know; but I aimed at once for home —
it was very late — and had to feel my way almost
like a blind man. I can't tell what I suffered.
I found it was something black, for I kept rub-
bing my face with my apron, and could just tell
it came away black. I let myself in with my
latch, and my wife was in bed, and I told her to
get up and look at my face and get some water,
and she thought I was joking, as she was half
asleep; but when she got up and got a light, and
a glass, she screamed, and said I looked such a
shiny image; and so I did, as well as I could
see, for it was black lead — such as they use for
grates — that was flung on me. I washed it off,
but it wasn't easy, and my face was sore days
after. I had a respectable coat on then, too,
which was greatly spoiled, and no remedy at all.
I don't know who did it to me. I heard some
one say: `You're served out beautiful' Its
men that calls themselves gentlemen that does
such things. I know the style of them then —
it was eight or ten years ago; they'd heard of
Lord — ,and his goings on. That way it's
better now, but worse, far, in the way of getting
a living. I dare say, if I had dressed in rough
corderoys, I shouldn't have been larked at so
much, because they might have thought I was
a regular coster, and a fighter; but I don't like
that sort of thing — I like to be decent and re-
spectable, if I can.
"I've been in the `fried' trade ever since,
except about three months that I tried the sand-
wiches. I didn't do so well in them, but it was
a far easier trade; no carrying heavy weights all
the way from Billingsgate: but I went back to
the fried. Why now, sir, a good week with me
— and I've only myself in the trade now" [he
was a widower] — "is to earn 12s., a poor week
is 9s.; and there's as many of one as of the
other. I'm known to sell the best of fish, and
to cook it in the best style. I think half of us,
take it round and round for a year, may earn as
much as I do, and the other half about half as
much. I think so. I might have saved money,
but for a family. I've only one at home with
me now, and he really is a good lad. My cus-
tomers are public-house people that want a
relish or a sort of supper with their beer, not so
much to drinkers. I sell to tradesmen, too; 4d.
worth for tea or supper. Some of them send to
my place, for I'm known. The Great Exhibi-
tion can't be any difference to me. I've a regu-
lar round. I used to sell a good deal to women
of the town, but I don't now. They haven't the
money, I believe. Where I took 10s. of them,
eight or ten years ago, I now take only 6d. They
may go for other sorts of relishes now; I can't
say. The worst of my trade is, that people must
have as big penn'orths when fish is dear as when
its cheap. I never sold a piece of fish to an
Italian boy in my life, though they're Catholics.
Indeed, I never saw an Italian boy spend a half-
penny in the streets on anything."
A working-man told me that he often bought
fried fish, and accounted it a good to men like
himself. He was fond of fried fish to his sup-
per; he couldn't buy half so cheap as the street-
sellers, perhaps not a quarter; and, if he could,
it would cost him 1d. for dripping to fry the fish
in, and he got it ready, and well fried, and gene-
rally good, for 1d.
Subsequent inquiries satisfied me that my in-
formant was correct as to his calculations of his
fellows' earnings, judging from his own. The
price of plaice at Billingsgate is from ½d. to 2d.
each, according to size (the fried fish purveyors
never calculate by the weight), ¾d. being a fair
average. A plaice costing 1d. will now be fried
into four pieces, each 1d.; but the addition of
bread, cost of oil, &c., reduces the "fried"
peoples' profits to rather less than cent. per
cent. Soles and the other fish are, moreover,
30 per cent. dearer than plaice. As 150 sellers
make as much weekly as my informant, and the
other 150 half that amount, we have an average
yearly earning of 27l. 6s. in one case, and of
13l. 13s. in the other. Taking only 20l. a year
as a medium earning, and adding 90 per cent
for profit, the outlay on the fried fish supplied
by London street-sellers is 11,400l.
| OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF EATABLES AND DRINKABLES. London Labour and the London Poor, volume 1 | |