Esther M. Zimmer Lederberg
Henry Mayhew's 19th Century London
What Charles Dickens Saw
Jack Black the Rat catcher
As I wished to obtain the best information about rat
and vermin destroying, I thought I could not do better
now than apply to that eminent authority "the Queen's
ratcatcher," Mr. "Jack" Black, whose hand-bills are
headed—"V.R. Rat and mole destroyer to Her
Majesty."
I had already had a statement from the royal bug-destroyer
relative to the habits and means ot exterminating those
offensive vermin, and I was desirous of pairing it with
an account of the Queen of England's ratcatcher.
In the sporting world, and among his regular customers,
the Queen's ratcatcher is better known by the name of
Jack Black. He enjoys the reputation of being the most
fearless handler of rats of any man living, playing
with them&emdash;as one man expressed it to me—
"as if they were so many blind kittens."
The first time I ever saw Mr. Black was in the streets
of London, at the corner of Hart-street, where he was
exhibiting the rapid effects of his rat poison, by
placing some of it in the mouth of a living animal.
He had a cart then with rats painted on the panels,
and at the tailboard, where he stood lecturing, he
had a kind of stage rigged up, on which were cages
filled with rats, and pills, and poison packages.
Here I saw him dip his hand into this cage of rats
and take out as many as he could hold, a feat which
generally caused an "oh!" of wonder to escape from
the crowd, especially when the observed that his
hands were unbitten. Women more particularly shuddered
when they beheld him place some half-dozen of the
dusty-looking brutes within his shirt next his
skin; and men swore the animals had been tamed, as
he let them run up his arms like squirrels, and the
people gathered round beheld them sitting on his
shoulders cleaning their faces with their front-paws,
or rising up on their hind legs like little
kangaroos, and sniffing about his ears and cheeks.
But those who knew Mr. Black better, were well
aware that the animals he took up in his hand were
as wild as any of the rats in the sewers of London,
and that the only mystery in the exhibition was
that of a man having courage enough to undertake
the work.
I afterwards visited Jack Black at his house in
Battersea. I had some difficulty in discovering his
country residence, and was indebted to a group of
children gathered round and staring at the bird-cage
in the window of his cottage for his address.
Their exclamations of delight at a grey parrot climbing
with his beak and claws about the zinc wires of his
cage, and the hopping of the little linnets there,
in the square boxes scarcely bigger than a brick,
made me glance up at the door to discover who the
bird-fancier was ; when painted on a bit of zinc—
just large enough to fit the shaft of a tax cart—
I saw the words, "J. Black, Rat Destroyer to Her
Majesty," surmounted by the royal initials,
V.R.,1
together with the painting of a white rat.
Mr. Black wasw out "sparrer ketching," as his wife
informed me, for he had an order for three dozen,
"which was to be shot in a match" at some tea-gardens
close by.
[...]
I was soon at home with Mr. Black. He was a very
different man from what I had expected to meet,
for there was an expression of kindliness in his
countenance, a quality which does not exactly agree
with one's preconceived notions of ratcatchers.
His face had a strange appearance, from his rough,
uncombed hair, being nearly grey, and his eyebrows
and whiskers black, so that he looked as if he
wore powder.
[...]
Later in the day Mr. Black became very communicative.
We sat chatting together in his sanded bird shop,
and he told me all his misfortunes, and how bad
luck had pressed upon him, and driven him out of
London.
"I was fool enough to take a public-house in
Regent-street, sir," he said. "My daughter used
to dress as the 'Ratchketcher's Daughter,' and
serve behind the bar, and that did pretty well
for a time; but it was a brewer's house, and
they ruined me."
The costume of the "ratketcher's daughter" was
shown to me by her mother. It was a red velvet
bodice, embroidered with silver lace.
"With a muslin skirt, and her hair down her back,
she looked very genteel," added the parent.
Mr. Black's chief complaint was that he could not
"make an appearance," for his "uniform"—"a
beautiful green coat and red waistcoat—were
pledged."
Whilst giving me his statement, Mr. Black, in
proof of his assertions of the biting powers of
rats, drew my attention to the leathern breeches
he wore, "as were given him twelve years ago by
Captain B—."
These were pierced in some places with the teeth
of the animals, and in others were scratched and
fringed like the washleather of a street
knife-seller.
His hands, too, and even his face, had scars upon
them by bites.
[...]
Mr. Black informed me in secret that he had
often, "unbeknownst to his wife," tasted what
cooked rats were like, and he asserted that they
were as moist as rabbits, and quite as nice.
"If they are shewer-rats," he continued, "just
chase them for two or three days before you kill
them, and they are as good as barn-rats, I give
you my word, sir."
Mr. Black's statement was as follows:—
"I should think I've been at ratting a'most for
five-and-thirty year; indeed, I may say from my
childhood, for I've kept at it a'most all my life.
I've been dead near three times from bites—as
near as a toucher. I once had the teeth of a rat
break in my finger, which was dreadful bad, and
swole, and putrified, so that I had to have the
broken bits pulled out with tweezers. When the
bite is a bad one, it festers and forms a hard
core in the ulcer, which is very painful, and
throbs very much indeed; and after that the core
comes away, unless you cleans 'em out well, the
sores, even after they seemed to be healed, break
out over and over again, and never cure perfectly.
This core is as big as a boiled fish's eye, and
as hard as a stone. I generally cuts the bite out
clean with a lancet, and squeege the humour well
from it, and that's the only way to cure it
thorough—as you see my hands is all covered
with scars from bites.
"The worst bite I ever had was at the Manor House,
Hornsey, kept by Mr. Burnell. One day when I was
there, he had some rats get loose, and he asked me
to ketch 'em for him, as they was wanted for a
match that was coming on that afternoon. I had
picked up a lot—indeed, I had one in each
hand, and another again my knee, when I happened
to come to a sheaf of straw, which I turned over,
and there was a rat there. I couldn't lay hold on
him 'cause my hands was full, and as I stooped
down he ran up the sleeve of my coat, and bit me
on the muscle of my arm. I shall never forget it.
It turned me all of a sudden, and made me feel numb.
In less than half-an-hour I was took so bad I was
obleeged to be sent home, and I had to get some one
to drive my cart for me. It was terrible to see
the blood that came from me—I bled awful.
Burnell seeing me go so queer, says, 'Here, Jack,
take some brandy, you look so awful bad.' The arm
swole, and went as heavy as a ton weight pretty
well, so that I couldn't even lift it, and so
painful I couldn't bear my wife to ferment it.
I was kept in bed for two months through that bite
at Burnell's. I was so weak I couldn't stand, and
I was dreadful feverish—all warmth like. I
knew I was going to die, 'cause I remember the
doctor coming and opening my eyes, to see if I was
still alive.
"I've been bitten nearly everywhere, even where I
can't name to you, sir, and right through my thumb
nail too, which, as you see, always has a split in
it, though it's years since I was wounded. I suffered
as much from that bite on my thumb as anything. It
went right up to my ear. I felt the pain in both places
at once, at once—a regular twinge, like
touching the nerve of a tooth. The thumb went black,
and I was told I ought to have it off; but I knew
a young chap at the Middlesex Hospital who wasn't
out of his time, and he said, 'No, I wouldn't,
Jack;' and no more I did; and he used to strap
it up for me. But the worst of it was, I had a job
in Camden Town one afternoon after he had dressed
the wound, and I got another bite lower down on the
same thumb, and that flung me down on my bed, and
there I stopped, I should think, six weeks.
"I was bit bad, too, in Edwards-street, Hampstead-road;
and that time I was sick near three months, and close
upon dying. Whether it was the poison of the bite,
or the medicine the doctor give me, I can't say; but
the flesh seemed to swell up like a bladder—regular
blowed like. After all, I think I cured myself by
cheating the doctor, as they calls it; for instead
of taking the medicine, I used to go to Mr. —'s
house in Albany-street (the publican), and he'd say,
'What'll yer have, Jack?' and I used to take a glass
of stout, and that seemed to give me strength to
overcome the pison of the bite, for I began to pick
up as soon as I left off doctor's stuff.
"When a rat's bite touches the bone, it makes you
faint in a minute, and it bleeds dreadful—ah,
most terrible—just as if you had been stuck with
a penknife. You couldn't believe the quantity of blood
that come away, sir.
"The first rats I caught was when I was about nine
years of age. I ketched them at Mr. Strickland's, a
large cow-keeper, in Little Albany-street, Regent's-park.
At that time it was all fields and meaders in them parts,
and I recollect there was a big orchard on one side of
the sheds. I was only doing it for a game, and there
was lots of ladies and gents looking on, and wondering
at seeing me taking the rats out from under a heap of
old bricks and wood, where they had collected theirselves.
I had a little dog—a little red 'un it was, who
was well known through the fancy—and I wanted
the rats for to test my dog with, I being a lad what
was fond of the sport.
"I wasn't afraid to handle rats even then; it seemed to
come nat'ral to me. I very soon had some in my pocket,
and some in my hands, carrying them away as fast as I
could, and putting them into my wire cage. You see, the
rats began to run as soon as we shifted them bricks, and
I had to scramble for them. Many of them bit me, and,
to tell you the truth, I didn't know the bites were so
many, or I dare say I shouldn't have been so venturesome
as I was.
[...]
"It's fifteen year ago since I first worked for
Government. I found that the parks was much infested
with rats, which had underminded the bridges and
gnawed the drains, and I made application to Mr.
Westley, who was superintendent of the park, and he
spoke of it, and then it was wrote to me that I was
to fulfill the siterwation, and I was to have six
pounds a-year. But after that it was altered, and I was
to have so much a-head, which is threepence. After
that, Newton, what was a warmint destroyer to her
Majesty, dying, I wrote in to the Board of Hordinance,
when they appointed me to each station in London—that
was, to Regentsey-park-barracks, to the Knightsbridge
and Portland-barracks, and to all the other barracks
in the metropolis. I've got the letter now by me, in
which they says 'they is proud to appint me.'
"I've taken thirty-two rats out of one hole in the
islands in Regentsey-park, and found in it fish, birds,
and loads of eggs—duck-eggs, and every kind.
"It must be fourteen year since I first went about
the streets exhibiting with rats. I began with a cart
and a'most a donkey; for it was a pony scarce bigger;
but I've had three or four big horses since that, and
ask anybody, and they'll tell you I'm noted for my
cattle. I thought that by having a kind of costume,
and the rats painted on the cart, and going round the
country, I should get my name about, and get myself
knowed; and so I did, for folks 'ud come to me, so that
sometimes I've had four jobs of a-day, from people
seeing my cart. I found I was quite the master of the
rat, and could do pretty well what I liked with him;
so I used to go round Finchley, Highgate, and all
the sububs, and show myself, and how I handled the
warmint.
I used to wear a costume of white leather breeches,
and a green coat and scarlet waistkit, and a goold
band round my hat, and a belt across my shoulder. I
used to make a first-rate appearance, such as was
becoming the uniform of the Queen's rat-ketcher.
"Lor' bless you! I've travell'd all over London, and
I'll kill rats again anybody. I'm open to all the world
for any sum, from one pound to fifty. I used to have
my belts painted at first by Mr. Bailey, the animal
painter—with four white rats; but the idea
come into my head that I'd cast the rats in metal,
just to make more appearance for the belt, to come out
in the world. I was nights and days at it, and it give
me a deal of bother. I could manage it no how; but by
my own ingenuity and persewerance I succeeded. A
man axed me a pound a-piece for casting the rats—that
would ha' been four pound. I was very certain that
my belt, being a handsome one, would help my business
tremenjous in the sale of my composition. So I took
a mould from a dead rat in plaster, and then I got
some of my wife's sarsepans, and, by G—, I
casted 'em with some of my own pewter-pots."
The wife, who was standing by, here exclaimed—
"Oh, my poor sarsepans! I remember 'em. There was scarce
one left to cook our wittels with."
"Thousands of moulders," continued Jack Black, "used
to come to see me do the casting of the rats, and they
kept saying, 'You'll never do it, Jack.' The great
difficulty, you see, was casting the heye—which is
a black bead—into the metal.
"When the belt was done, I had a great success; for,
bless you, I couldn't go a yard without a crowd after
me.
"When I was out with the cart selling my composition,
my usual method was this. I used to put a board
across the top, and form a kind of counter. I always
took with me a iron-wire cage—so big a one, that
Mr. Barnet, a Jew, laid a wager that he could get
into it, and he did. I used to form this cage at one
end of the cart, and sell my composition at the other.
There were rats painted round the cart—that was
the only show I had about the wehicle. I used to take
out the rats, and put them outside the cage; and used to
begin the show by putting rats inside my shirt next my
buzzum, or in my coat and breeches pockets, or on my
shoulder—in fact, all about me, anywhere. The
people would stand to see me take up rats without being
bit. I never said much, but I used to handle the rats
in every possible manner, letting 'em run up my arm,
and stroking their backs and playing with 'em. Most
of the people used to fancy they had been tamed on
purpose, until they'd see me take fresh ones from
the cage, and play with them in the same manner. I
all this time kept on selling my composition, which
my man Joe used to offer about; and whenever a packet
was sold, I walways tested its wirtues by kililng a
rat with it afore the people's own eyes.
"I once went to Tottenham to sell my composition, and
to exhibit with my rats afore the country people. Some
countrymen, which said they were rat-ketchers, came
up to me whilst I was playing with some rats, and said&Mdash;
'Ugh, you're not a rat-ketcher; that's not the way to
do it.' They were startled at seeing me selling the
pison at such a rate, for the shilling packets were going
uncommon well, sir. I said, 'No, I ain't a rat-ketcher,
and don't know nothink about it. You come up and show
me how to do it.' One of them come up on the cart, and
put his hand in the cage, and curious enough he got three
bites directly, and aford he could take his hands out
they was nearly bit to ribands. My man Joe, says he,
'I tell you, if we ain't rat-ketchers, who is? We are
the regular rat-ketchers; my master kills 'em,
and then I eats 'em'—and he takes up a live one
and puts its head into his mouth, and I puts my hand
in the cage and pulls out six or seven in a cluster, and
holds 'em up in the air, without even a bite. The
countrymen bust out laughing; and they said, 'Well,
you're the best we ever see.' I sold nearly 4l.
worth of composition that day.
"Another day, when I'd been out flying pigeons as
well—carriers, which I fancies to—I
drove the cart, after selling the composition, to
the King's Arms, Hanwell, and there was a feller
there—a tailor by trade—what had turned
rat-ketcher. He had got with him some fifty or sixty
rats—the miserablest mangey brutes you ever
seed in a tub—taking 'em up to London to
sell. I, hearing of it, was determined to have a
lark, so I goes up and takes out ten of them rats,
and puts them inside my shirt, next my buzzum, and then
I walks into the parlour and sits down, and begins
drinking my ale as right as if nothink had
happened. I scarced had seated myself, when the
landlord—who was in the lay— says 'I
know a man who'll ketch rats quicker than anybody in
the world.' This put the tailor chap up, so he
offers to bet half-a-gallon of ale he would, and
I takes him. He goes to the tub and brings out a very
large rat, and walks with it into the room to show
to the company. 'Well,' says I to the man, 'why I,
who ain't a rat-ketcher, I've got a bigger one here,'
and I pulls one out from my buzzum. 'And here's
another, and another, and another,' says I, till
I had placed the whole ten on the table. 'That's
the way I ketch 'em,' says I,—'they comes of
their own accord to me.' He tried to handle the
warmints, but the poor fellow was bit, and his
hands was soon bleeding fur'ously, and I without
a mark. A gentleman as knowed me said, 'This must
be the Queen's rat-ketcher,' and that spilt the
fun. The poor fellow seemed regular done up, and
said, 'I shall give up rat-ketching, you've beat
me! Here I've been travelling with rats all my
life, and I never see such a thing afore.'
[...]
"There was a man Mrs. Brown had got of the name
of John, and he wouldn't believe about the rats,
and half thought I brought 'em with me. So I
showed him how to ketch rats.
"You see rats have always got a main run, and from
it go the branch runs on each side like on a
herring-bone, and at the end of the branch runs
is the bolt-holes, for coming in and out at. I
instantly stopped up all the bolt holes and worked
the rats down to the end of the main run, then I
broke up the branch runs and stopped the rats
getting back, and then, when I'd got 'em all together
at the end of the main run, I put my arm down and
lifted them up. I have had at times to put half my
body into a hole and thrust down my arm just like
getting rabbits out of their burrers.
[...]
"I have had some good finds at times, rat-hunting.
I found under one floor in a gent's house a great
quantity of table napkins and silver spoons and
forks, which the rats had carried away for the
grease on 'em—shoes and boots gnawed to
pieces, shifts, aprons, gownds, pieces of silk,
and I don't know what not. Sarvants had been
discharged accused of stealing them there things.
Of course I had to give them up; but there they was.
[...]
"Rats will eat each other like rabbits, which I've
watched them, and seen them turn the dead one's skins
out like pusses, and eat the flesh off beautiful
clean. I've got cages of iron-wire, which I made
myself, which will hold 1000 rats at a time, and
I've had these cages piled up with rats, solid like.
No one would ever believe it; to look at a quantity of
rats, and see how they will fight and tear one another
about,—it's astonishing, so it is! I never found
any rats smothered, by putting them in a cage so full;
but if you don't feed them every day, they'll fight and
eat one another—they will, like cannibals.
"I've bred the finest collection of pied rats which
has ever been knowed in the world. I had above eleven
hundred of them—all wariegated rats, and of a
different specie and colour, all of them in the first
instance bred from the Norwegian and the white rat,
and afterwards crossed with other specie.
"I have ris some of the largest tailed rats ever
seen. I've sent them to all parts of the globe,
and near every town in England. When I sold 'em
off, three hundred of them went to France. I
ketched the first white rat I had at Hampstead; and
the black ones at Messrs. Hodges and Lowman's, in
Regent-street, and them I bred in. I have 'em fawn and
white, black and white, brown and white, red and white,
blue-black and white, black-white and red."
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