CHAPTER XXXI. IN SEARCH OF CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. In Search Coleridge's Jew-The Fishwives' Cry-Heard at TARTING in search of Christie Johnstone and her ST friend Jean Carnie, I had walked no further than the Register House, and had left Princes Street for the Leith Road, when a shrill cry of A Caallerr owhoo-oooo! A Caallerr owhoo-oo-oo!'. rang upon my ear, delivered sharply and anything but musically, but pitched in a high note that ended in a prolonged and smothered howl. When Coleridge interrogated an old Jew vendor of still older clothes, why he snuffled 'O clo!' instead of saying, 'Old clothes!' the Jew is reported to have replied, 'Sir, I can say old clothes distinctly when I so please; but, when you consider the labial difficulties that attend upon the full pronunciation of these two words, when repeated many hundred times in a day, I think you will allow that I save my lungs from considerable and unnecessary fatigue by repeating that contracted form of my cry, which is best known to my customers, instead of adopting that THE FISHWIVES' CRY. 309 pronunciation which I grant you is undoubtedly correct, and which would probably be more agreeable to the refined ears of the scholar. In future, therefore, sir, when you hear my accustomed cry, I trust you will give me credit for a knowledge of correct pronunciation, although, for sufficient and satisfactory reasons, I have preferred to adopt a popular contraction.' Upon which the old man passed on, with his cry of 'O clo!' Now, it is just the reverse with the Newhaven fishwomen, as Caller Ou!' is shorter, and may be quite as readily pronounced as A Caaller owhoo-oo-oo!' But, there is a trade advantage attending their cry, that it cannot be counterfeited: there is not the slightest danger of an infringement on their patent, and when householders hear the owlish cry, they know from whence it proceeds, and what articles may be purchased. It must have been an exciting day when, at the Yorkshire Isthmian games, in September 1861, the shout of Caller Ou!' from 50,000 throats, proclaimed that the renowned Kettledrum' was beaten, and that a fair unknown had snatched the crown of victory from the winner of the Derby. How those 50,000 at Doncaster pronounced the words I cannot tell; to some, their meaning and language was probably a mystery; but to many they must have recalled the fishwives of the grey metropolis of the north.' The two mystic words are, in fact, the Edinburgh Scotch for fresh oysters,' the task of supplying which, together with caller haddie,' or fresh herrings, to the 200,000 inhabitants of Edinburgh, is chiefly confided to the Newhaven fishwomen.* Of course, they also * Dunbar, North Berwick, and other places also send fish to Edinburgh. A portion of the produce of the Edinburgh fisheries is despatched to London. The large 'Pandore' oysters (found near the Salt-pans) are brought from Prestonpans and Cockenzie. carry in their creels all other kinds of fish that may have been caught by the fishermen, and are therefore to be regarded in the light of perambulating fish-shops. As somewhere about 180 fishing-boats belong to the harbour of Newhaven, this place alone must contribute two or three times that number of females, a great part of the business of whose lives it must be to exercise their lungs in the shrill cry of 'A Caaller owhoo-00-00 !' When this cry first saluted my ears my thoughts flew to Christie Johnstone, with her rich, full, and melodious' voice, and her charming looks, dress, manners, and cleanliness; and, turning, I saw toiling up the street, and bending under the weight of their heavy creels, some women whom no stretch of imagination or courtesy could term either beautiful or cleanly. Picturesque they undoubtedly were-far more so than the Cullercoats fishwomen; but it was the kind of picturesqueness that is much better seen and studied from pictures than from a too close study of real life. Halfa-minute's actual experience had disillusioned me of all my Christie Johnstones. It is true, that Mr. Reade says, 'After a certain age, the Newhaven fishwife is always a blackguard and ugly; but, among the younger specimens, who have not traded too much, or come into much contact with larger towns, a charming modesty, or else slyness (such as no man can distinguish from it, so it answers every purpose), is to be found, combined with rare grace and beauty. It is a race of women that the northern sun peachifies instead of rosewoodising. On Sundays, the majority sacrifice appearance to fashion; these turn out rainbows of silk, satin, and lace. In the week they were all grace and no stays, now they seem all stays and no grace. They never 6 look so ill as when they change their "costume" for "dress." It is also true that the first fishwives upon whom I set eyes were ladies who had reached, or passed, Mr. Reade's certain age,' and had therefore attained that great climacteric when they necessarily became 'blackguard and ugly.' And it is further true, that by a diligent search, I lighted upon some fishwives who were sufficiently 'bonny' and pleasant looking, although very far below the standard of beauty set by Christie Johnstone and Jean Carnie. Yet, the picturesqueness of the 'blackguard and ugly,'-i. e.. nine-tenths of the fish-wives-is undeniable. It is the dress, in this case, that makes the woman; and its picturesqueness is due partly to its colours and partly to its adjustment of petticoats. Most of the women wear white caps, after the ordinary Scotch fashion; but (so far as I saw) without the extraordinary addition of the broad lace border' that appeared on the caps of Christie Johnstone and Jean Carnie. I was told, however, that some of the Dons' occasionally wore a narrow lace border to their Sunday caps. Some were bare-headed, and had merely pads to protect their foreheads from the belt attached to their creel, for it is upon the head and shoulders that the weight of their load is thrown, although the arms being thrown upwards, the hands clasp the belt near to the ears, and somewhat relieve the pressure upon the head. By a rapid motion, the belt is slipped from the forehead, and the creel landed upon the ground before the feet of any intending customer. The woman's back is usually protected by a rough coat or coarse mantle, fastened at the neck, which prevents the creel from soiling the more gorgeous portions of her attire. Coloured handkerchiefs, and loose cotton jackets, with gay stripes or spots, cover the upper portion of their bodies, the lower being most artistically draped with two or more (visible) striped petticoats of various colours, the upper ones being gathered up to the waist in picturesque folds. They certainly are a grateful sight to the sketcher's eye, and commend themselves to the artist who loves a figure in which vigour and colour are combined. 6 If some would walk in Rubens' brilliant track, Well draped, would make a first-rate Flemish study. The draping' of her figure is, indeed, the crowning pictorial glory of the fishwife, and her worldly wealth and position may be estimated by an enumeration of her petticoats. Although only two, or at the most three, of her petticoats be visible, yet a well-to-do fishwife will often wear as many as twelve woollen petticoats worn one over the other, like the waistcoats of the stage representative of Hamlet's gravedigger. I am told of a lady who has ascertained this to be a fact by frequently having the petticoats counted to her at her door. One wonders how, on a hot summer's day, and laden with the burden of creel and fish, any working woman can sustain the weight of a dozen woollen garments. But there is a fishwife-fashion in these matters; and fashion has its slaves at Newhaven as well as at Paris. The Edinburgh lady just referred to was supplied with fish by a mother and daughter thus petticoated and well-to-do. Hearing that the daughter was about to be married, she asked her what her bridal dress would be, and was told that it would be white muslin and a mutch wi' knots on't.' And has the dress a low neck, Maggie?' asked the lady. Eh, no, mem! we never |