see also George Cruikshank in the Comic Almanack - click here
MONDAY next will be "Oyster-day," or the day on which oysters
are first brought into the London market at Billingsgate. Upon the preceding
page our Artist has pictured from his Sketch of last year a street scene from
this red-letter day of the London poor. Let us glance at the incidents of the
groups of which the picture is composed.
The Oyster-day has arrived and a very busy day it usually
proves; for Mr. Mayhew, in his "London Labour and the Poor," tells us that
"the number of oysters sold by the costermongers amounts to 124,000,000 a
year. These, at four a penny, would realise the large sum of £129,650. We may, therefore, safely assume that
£125,000 is spent yearly in oysters in the
streets of London." We will not pursue the calculation into how many grottoes
might be built from the shells of a year's supply of oysters, but come at once
to the pile the boys in the left-hand corner of the picture are raising. The
coming-in of oysters is observed as a sort of festival in the streets; and in
such a nook of the metropolis as the present locality, the grotto is usually
built of inverted oyster-shells piled up conically with an opening in the
base, through which, as night approaches, a lighted candle is placed within
the grotto, when the effect of the light through the chinks of the shelly cairn
is very pretty.
It is but fair that the young architects should be rewarded for
their trouble accordingly, a little band, of what some churl may call urchins, sally forth to collect pence from the passers-by ; and the usual form of
collecting the tax, by presenting a shell, is shown in the next group. The old
gentleman is posed yet not displeased at the vigour of the applicants, whilst
his daughter regards them with a genial smile. We wager that he will drop his
copper into one or more of the suppliant shells.
Illustrated London News, Jul.-Dec., 1851
GROTTO DAY.
THE beginning of August is signalised among the
small boys, urchins, and children of London, as
Grotto Day. No sooner do you walk out in the
morning, in whatever direction you will, than you
are saluted with the cry of, "Please to remember
the Grotto," emanating from some unwashed, untended little wanderer, who runs capering before
you, clutching in his dirty fingers an oyster-shell,
which serves him as a begging-dish. If you
escape from one, it is only to fall into the hands
of another, or of a dozen or a score of others,
awaiting you round the corner. All boy-dom is
in a conspiracy to-day to whine and wheedle you
out of your coppers. "Remember the Grotto"
meets you at every turn "Remember the Grotto"
is behind you is before you is on the right
hand is on the left; and as to forgetting the
grotto, we defy you to do it for some time to
come, even were you dull and oblivious "as the
fat weed that grows on Lethe's brink."
"But where is the grotto?" a stranger to London
might say; "what is it all about? I should like to see the grotto. 'Grotto' has
a refreshingly cool sound, and just now I am distressingly hot. Whew! how I
do perspire, to be sure. Introduce me to the grotto, my lad, by all means, just
for a cooler!"
"Here's the grotto, sir! here's the grotto!"
"That a grotto! four and twenty oyster-shells
Call that a grotto?"
Yes, my rural friend, that's the only species of
grotto you will find in London. Of moss-clad
rocks and caverns in leafy and umbrageous nooks
we have none; we make our grottoes, or the boys
make them for us, here, out of oyster-shells; and
the first of August is celebrated and solemnised
as Grotto Day, because it is, according to immemorial custom, the first day of the oyster season.
Oysters, in the opinion of the provincial eater, are
good only during those eight months which are
spelled with an R, that is, from September to
April, inclusive, and so far as he is concerned,
they might lie quietly at rest in their beds during
the other four months : but your Londoner, who
never dines nor lunches by orthographical authority, chooses to commence the
oyster campaign in August. The amount of them devoured in the metropolis during
the ensuing nine months, would furnish a problem for the energies of a
calculating machine. Whether they be scarce and dear, or plentiful and cheap,
during the first month of eating, one can form a pretty accurate judgment by the
condition of the street grottoes. The young architects who build these emulate
each other in the size and stability of their structures, and haunt the stalls
and luncheon sheds pretty constantly in search of the necessary material, which
they are too apt to squabble over before lugging
it off to the building ground.
The grotto, which begins with "four-and-twenty
oyster-shells," does not by any means stop there. As fast as fresh oysters are
swallowed, new material is appropriated, and in a little time the grotto
edifice begins to assume a definite form. Occasionally a considerable degree of ingenuity is manifested
in its structure. Now you shall see it, consisting only of a couple of walls, without a roof ,
then the roof shall be covered in; anon it is pulled
down, and rises again in the form of a bee-hive.
Sometimes it is built in a corner, the angle of a
brick wall serving for a couple of the sides ; some-
times the wall only forms the back ; and, lastly,
it will rise, under the hands of a clever architect,
to the height of three or four feet, shaped like the
dome of St. Paul's, with a flagstaff in the centre,
bearing for a banner a pocket handkerchief a foot
square, adorned with a print of the battle of the
Alma. Such an erection as this, fitly placed in a
populous court or back-way thoroughfare, never
appeals in vain to the generosity of a peculiar
class.
At night you may chance to come at the grotto
illuminated. Now it shall be a model kitchen,
furnished with a toy range, table and chairs, an end
of candle burning on the table, and real smoke
coming out of the chimney. Or another time it
shall be a church, with a piece of glass built in
for the great oriel window ; a pile, a yard high,
heaped round a stick stuck in the ground, wad
pointed with a whelk, to represent the spire, and
as many bits of taper burning inside as the united company of freemasons can
muster among them. The flame, flickering through the interstices in the several
layers, renders such an object illustriously luminous, and a great source of
attraction to the juveniles during the dark hours. The most remarkable exploit of grotto work which we remember to have witnessed, was performed in Lambeth
many years back. A London gamin, who had for
some days, by the aid of his companions, rung all
the changes upon oyster-shell architecture of which
it seemed capable, wound up with the following
climax. Seating himself on the ground, and
, clasping his knees with his hands, he gave directions for piling the shells around him, and having
himself completely domed in. When this was effectually accomplished, he struck
up a stave of some popular ditty, continuing the strain until an unusual crowd
had gathered round him. Then he rose suddenly, scattering the debris about on
all sides, and, hat in hand, levied a contribution upon his admirers. The
performance was probably remunerative, as we left him submitting
second time to the process.
About twenty-five years ago, the following story
which appears to have been well founded, and
which is apropos of London grottoes and Grotto
Day, ran the round of the newspapers. Some
young children of a widow woman living on the
south side of the river, having collected shells to
build a grotto, set about executing their plan.
To make the grotto as attractive as possible, they
brought, during the mother's absence from hone;
some few ornaments from her cottage to place
temporarily within it. Among the rest was a
small painting, dark and dingy with age. This
they placed against the wall, and heaped up their
shell work around, leaving an opening in front to
show the picture. When all was prepared, they
began, as usual, with " Please to remember the
Grotto" to every passer-by. A Jew journeying
that way caught sight of the painting. " Please to
remember the Grotto," said the builder. " Shan't
give anything to the grotto," said the Jew ; " I'll
give you a shilling for the picture." The boys
consulted together, and in the end, unmindful of
the mother's authority, sold the picture and spent
the shilling. The poor woman, working early
and late for daily bread, never missed the picture,
and the boys kept the secret to themselves. In
the meanwhile the cunning buyer had the painting
cleansed from its accumulations of filth, and suspecting that it was of value,
set cautiously about ascertaining what that value might be. He carried his prize
from one good judge to another, and from their report his surmises were at last
fully confirmed. The picture was now offered for We at a price of more hundreds
than is safe to mention, and at length came under the notice of a distinguished
collector. This gentleman was willing to give the sum demanded for it, but
naturally desired, before disbursing so large an amount, to know whence the
picture came, and to be sure of the seller's right to dispose of it. When the
man was questioned on this subject, his answers, not being the truth, were so unsatisfactory that he was threatened with loss both of
picture and purchase-money, unless he would communicate the source from whence he obtained it.
Under this pressure he confessed the truth, and,
at the suggestion of the collector, consented to
share the proceeds of the sale with the mother of
the boys from whom he had purchased the picture.
The buyer appointed a trustworthy agent to see
the division made. The reader may imagine the
feelings of the mother when the hundreds were
poured into her lap, and she had the means of
educating her young truants, and teaching them
something better than grotto building.
But " Please to remember the Grotto !" What
shall we say to that never-ending appeal during
these first few days of August? Are we to remember the grotto in the way the petitioners
would have us, and scatter our coppers among
them till we have not a copper left? Or are we
to turn a deaf ear to the universal chorus, and,
voting them a bore and a nuisance, shake them
from our skirts as so many hindrances to business ? Neither. There is reason in the scattering of coppers and we ought not to think it
beneath us to exercise discrimination even in such
a small matter as this. When the artisan's child,
who should be brought up with a decent sense of
independence and the dignity of labour, comes
whining to me with an oyster-shell for the donation of a halfpenny, he shall not get it, whine as
he may. But if I find a poor penniless boy out
of work, raising his oyster-pile to win a meal by
the revival of a time-honoured custom, because he
has nothing better to do, I will give him a copper,
if I like, nor think it thrown away, especially if I
can accompany the gift to him with the address
of some ragged school, where he may get instructions and principles that will give him a new start
in life.
The Leisure Hour, 1856
see also Henry Holland Burne in The Early Years of Queen Victoria's Reign
"A SOFT ANSWER," &c.
Female epicure. "OH, MISTER, I'M SURE THAT WAS A
BAD ONE!"
Oyster Salesman (indignantly). "WHAT D'YER MEAN? THEN YOU SHOULDN'T
'A' SWALLERED IT, MUM! I'VE BEEN IN THIS TRADE A MATTER O' TEN YEARS, AND NEVER
- "
Lady. "WELL, IT CERTAINLY LEFT A NASTY TASTE -"
Salesman (mollified). "WELL, THERE'S NO DENYIN' THAT SOME OF 'EM IS
'IGHER IN FLAVIOUR THAN OTHERS!"
Punch, March 22, 1879
