University of Virginia Library

THE LITERATURE OF COSTERMONGERS.

We have now had an inkling of the London
costermonger's notions upon politics and religion.
We have seen the brutified state in which he is
allowed by society to remain, though possessing
the same faculties and susceptibilities as our-
selves — the same power to perceive and admire
the forms of truth, beauty, and goodness, as even
the very highest in the state. We have witnessed
how, instinct with all the elements of manhood
and beasthood, the qualities of the beast are prin-
cipally developed in him, while those of the man
are stunted in their growth. It now remains for
us to look into some other matters concerning
this curious class of people, and, first, of their
literature:

It may appear anomalous to speak of the lite-
rature of an uneducated body, but even the
costermongers have their tastes for books. They
are very fond of hearing any one read aloud to
them, and listen very attentively. One man
often reads the Sunday paper of the beer-shop to
them, and on a fine summer's evening a coster-
monger, or any neighbour who has the advantage
of being "a schollard," reads aloud to them in
the courts they inhabit. What they love best to
listen to — and, indeed, what they are most eager
for — are Reynolds's periodicals, especially the
"Mysteries of the Court." "They've got tired
of Lloyd's blood-stained stories," said one man,
who was in the habit of reading to them, "and
I'm satisfied that, of all London, Reynolds is the
most popular man among them. They stuck
to him in Trafalgar-square, and would again.
They all say he's `a trump,' and Feargus
O'Connor's another trump with them.' "

One intelligent man considered that the spirit
of curiosity manifested by costermongers, as
regards the information or excitement derived
from hearing stories read, augured well for the
improvability of the class.

Another intelligent costermonger, who had
recently read some of the cheap periodicals to
ten or twelve men, women, and boys, all coster-
mongers, gave me an account of the comments
made by his auditors. They had assembled,
after their day's work or their rounds, for the
purpose of hearing my informant read the last
number of some of the penny publications.

"The costermongers," said my informant,
"are very fond of illustrations. I have known
a man, what couldn't read, buy a periodical what
had an illustration, a little out of the common
way perhaps, just that he might learn from some
one, who could read, what it was all about. They
have all heard of Cruikshank, and they think
everything funny is by him — funny scenes in a
play and all. His `Bottle' was very much ad-
mired. I heard one man say it was very prime,
and showed what `lush' did, but I saw the same
man," added my informant, "drunk three hours
afterwards. Look you here, sir," he continued,
turning over a periodical, for he had the number
with him, "here's a portrait of `Catherine of
Russia.' `Tell us all about her,' said one man to
me last night; read it; what was she?' When I
had read it," my informant continued, "another
man, to whom I showed it, said, `Don't the cove
as did that know a deal?' for they fancy — at least,
a many do — that one man writes a whole peri-
odical, or a whole newspaper. Now here," pro-
ceeded my friend, "you see's an engraving of a
man hung up, burning over a fire, and some
costers would go mad if they couldn't learn what
he'd been doing, who he was, and all about him.
`But about the picture?' they would say, and
this is a very common question put by them
whenever they see an engraving.

"Here's one of the passages that took their
fancy wonderfully, my informant observed:

Here all my audience," said the man to me,
"broke out with — `Aye! that's the way the
harristocrats hooks it. There's nothing o' that
sort among us; the rich has all that barrikin to
themselves.' `Yes, that's the b — way the
taxes goes in,' shouted a woman.

"Anything about the police sets them a talk-
ing at once. This did when I read it:

`The blessed crushers is everywhere,' shouted
one. `I wish I'd been there to have had a shy
at the eslops,' said another. And then a man
sung out: `O, don't I like the Bobbys?'

"If there's any foreign language which can't
be explained, I've seen the costers," my in-
formant went on, "annoyed at it — quite annoyed.
Another time I read part of one of Lloyd's
numbers to them — but they like something
spicier. One article in them — here it is — finishes
in this way:

`I can't tumble to that barrikin,' said a young
fellow; `it's a jaw-breaker. But if this here —
what d'ye call it, you talk about — was like the
Irish, why they was a rum lot.' `Noblesse,' said
a man that's considered a clever fellow, from
having once learned his letters, though he can't

[Description: 915EAF. Page 026.]

read or write. `Noblesse!' Blessed if I know
what he's up to.' Here there was a regular
laugh."

From other quarters I learned that some of
the costermongers who were able to read, or
loved to listen to reading, purchased their litera-
ture in a very commercial spirit, frequently
buying the periodical which is the largest in
size, because when "they've got the reading out
of it," as they say, "it's worth a halfpenny for
the barrow."

Tracts they will rarely listen to, but if any
persevering man will read tracts, and state that
he does it for their benefit and improvement,
they listen without rudeness, though often with
evident unwillingness. "Sermons or tracts," said
one of their body to me, "gives them the 'orrors."
Costermongers purchase, and not unfrequently,
the first number of a penny periodical, "to see
what it's like."

The tales of robbery and bloodshed, of heroic,
eloquent, and gentlemanly highwaymen, or of
gipsies turning out to be nobles, now interest the
costermongers but little, although they found
great delight in such stories a few years back.
Works relating to Courts, potentates, or "har-
ristocrats," are the most relished by these rude
people.