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" Wha'll buy my caller herrini,
New drawn frae the Forth."
- Lady Nairne.
"The damsel's knife the gaping
shell commands,
While the salt liquor streams between her hands."
- Gay.
1840-70
WHILE on the subject of
costume, it seems right to call attention to a class whose dress is
different from that of the community, particularly as it has a tendency to
disappear. One of the most picturesque sights upon the streets of Edinburgh
in my young days was the fishwife of Newhaven. he women were a class
entirely by themselves, retainirig a garb not worn elsewhere, and showing by
their appearance that they were not of the race to whom they sold their
fish. It was an appearance of which they had no cause to be ashamed. What
racial stem they came from I know not, and leave it to the learned in
folklore to inform the inquirer. But they were splendid specimens of
humanity, clear-complexioned, bright eyed, and while strong and vigorous,
carrying heavy burdens, they were neat-handed, and their small feet, always
in well made shoes, might have been envied by many a lady of what are called
the refined classes. Wearing red and white, or blue and white short striped
petticoats, and dark blue panmered skirts, with a bright handkerchief round
the neck, the younger girls bareheaded, and the head covered in the case of
the other women by a cap that seemed to indicate a relation with Normandy or
Brittany, they were a most charming feature of life on the streets. Strong
and healthy, they carried their "creel" with its basin-shaped basket above
land bore their heavy load by a strap crossing the forehead, walking two
miles from the fishing station, and climbing many a stair to sell their
fish, as the song says: "New drawn frae the Forth." "Caller hernn'"—"Caller
cod" were called sonorously during the forenoon, and "Caller ow-oo" at
night, when the oysters were offered for sale. Must I say for the English
reader that "caller" means fresh, and that the vowelled word was the cry of
oysters; I despair of expressing the delightful sound of it. The first
syllable was as the "ou' ;n "hour," and the last syllable as the "oo" by
which "you" is sometimes expressed in dotfng language. How often when the
"Caller ow oo" sounded in the street was the fishwife brought into the
entrance hall, to open her fresh oysters by the dozen for delightful
impromptu supper.
A well-known song by our
Edinburgh poet Ballantine takes its name and retrain from an incident which
brings out in strong relief the characteristics, both physical and moral of
the "bonrre fishwife" of Newhaven. Ballantine happened to be passing when a
fishwife was in the act of hoisting on to her back her heavly loaded
"creel," and he gallantly gave her assistance, expressing his astonishment
at her being able to carry such a load all the way from Newhaven. Her cheery
reply, as she adjusted the strap against her fore head, showed a strength of
character as her heavy "creel" demonstrated her strength of body: "Oo, ay,
but ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. One wonders whether the
thought was original, and would fainhope it may have been, but whether
orginal or not, it was a charmingly poetical expression of a noble
contentment with her lot, strenuous though it might be.
Alas! all this charming
spectacle of the "bonnie fishwives" is changed in character. The "Caller
ow-oo" is heard no more, and though the fishwives still sell fish, they do
not bring it fresh from Newhaven. It is rather a sad thing to one who
remembers the old days when the fish came straight ;n the "creels" from the
boat.
What does one see now? A
train arrrves at the Waverley Station and out step the fishwives in the
characteristic dress. But they have no fish with them, ''hey go to the end
of the train and take from a special van their empty "creels," and
disappear. Later, one sees them going about with fish. Rumour says that all
their husbands' and brothers fish is contracted for by the fishmongers
before it is caught, and that t is brought to Edinburgh in bulk—that the
fishwife on reaching Edinburgh goes to the fishmonger and takes what he
gives out to her for sale. Does the "creel receive the fish of yesterday
which was left over unsold: I know not, but if it is so, then is it not
strange that there is no cry of "caller" heard as the "creels" are carried
round daily. If this be true, then "pity t's 'tis true." The romance and the
freshness of the bright, cheerful Newhaven fishwife's personality and work
have been brought down in standard under the at times, kilhng breath of what
is called modern.
Besides the fishwives, who
were ornamental as well as useful, there were other hawkers of special
goods, who had nothing to commend them except the usefulness of their wares.
In addition to the china mender, to whom I must refer more particularly
later, there were two that I remember. There was a regular calling at houses
for the purpose of offering matches for sale. I mention this because it is
an indication of how long a time it took before the lucifer match became
common, these vendors came with large bundles of roughly-shaped sticks about
the size and length of an ordinary pencil, both ends of which had been
dipped in melted sulphur. They were used for ordinary lighting purposes, the
light being obtained by inserting
NEWHAVEN FISHWIVES
the match in a bottle of
prepared phosphorus. It must have been as late as 1844 or 1845 that the use
of the phosphorus bottle was practically superseded by the friction match. I
he other haw ker sold sand from a cart, for use on stone floors, and his cry
of "Saund, saund" was a dreary wail. One day a superfine gentleman spoke to
the hawker, and said. "My good man, you ought not to say saund, saund,' you
should say 'sand, sand,'" emphasizing the "a;' The man looked at him,
and holding out his spade said, "Jist you tak' the spade and see if ye can
dae it ony better.' The superfine gentleman went his way, and the little
fellows looking on laughed.
I am just old enough to
remember the change from the expensive to the penny postage. The General
Post Office for Scotland at that time was a comparatively paltry building in
Waterloo Place —now Cranston is New Waverley Hotel. If any one will look at
the hotel and at the present Post Office, both of which he can see from the
North Bridge, he will get some idea of the enormous increase of the postal
service which followed the introduction of Rowland Hill's system of penny
postage. Looking at the setwo buildings, the small and the vast, and
remembering how the proposed system was denounced and Rowland Hill sneered
at by men high in the postal service—who made reports to the Government and
published pamphlets, conclusively proving, as the authors thought, that
failure was certain to follow the change in postage rates—one is furnished
with a strong commentary on the want of foresight so often displayed by
those in high place in denouncing any idea which has not been born from
their own brain. When I was still a boy I read strong statements by able
men, saying that the old system should be re-established at once. Perhaps it
is not realised by many to-day that when the penny postage was introduced
the change, as is so often the case, was not made whole heartedly. I have
seen letters paid for in coin in Waterloo Place, the. clerk making a great
mark in red ink With a broad pen. It was only when the use of the Queen's
head became established as a success that the affixing of stamps was made
compulsory. The many advantages of the penny system were soon recognised.
One inconvenience of the old system can be appreciated by a generation which
has the privilege of despatching four ounces for a penny. I have seen in my
childhood many letters, written on the thinnest of paper, and the writing
crossed not once but twice, the second crossing being diagonal, making them
as difficult to decipher as a cuneiform inscription. And as for envelopes,
they were not used, as the weight had to be kept down to half an ounce.
Of course all the increase in
space occupied by the new buildings is not to be attributed to letter
postage only, as the telegraph called for considerable accommodation in the
offices. But the main building of the Post Office was erected solely for
ordinary postal business, as it was begun in 1862, six years before the
Government took over the telegraph service; and also before the postage in
parcels was introduced. |
