We are so accustomed nowadays to pay half a crown, three and sixpence, and even more for our dozen oysters, that it seems almost incredible that our fathers regaled themselves thereon at the common or general price of sixpence a dozen. An old poem on the subject says:—
Happy the man, who, void of care and strife,
In silken or in leathern purse retains
A splendid shilling: he nor hears with pain
New oysters cried, nor sighs for cheerful ale.
This is from “The Splendid Shilling,” by John Philip, which, according to Steele in the “Tatler,” was “the finest burlesque poem in the English language.”
Just exactly why the price of oysters should have increased so enormously in recent years has never been satisfactorily explained. Many ridiculous reasons have been given, but they seem either impertinent, or inadequate, or both. We need only refer to the pages of the “Pickwick Papers” for confirmation.
“Before proceeding to the Legacy Duty Office about proving the will of his late wife, Mr. Weller, senior, and his fellow-coachmen, as witnesses, bethought themselves of having a drop of beer, and a little cold beef, or an oyster. These viands were promptly produced, and the luncheon was done ample justice to. If one individual evinced greater powers than another it was the coachman with the hoarse voice, who took an imperial pint of vinegar with his oysters, and did not betray the least emotion.”
Another and more striking illustration.
“It’s a very remarkable circumstance, sir,” said Sam Weller, “that poverty and oysters always seem to go together; the poorer a place is the greater call there seems to be for oysters. Look here, sir! blest if I don’t think that ven a man’s wery poor he rushes out of his lodgings, and eats oysters for regular desperation.”