“Do tell us all about London, dear father,” asked Mary, who was sitting
at her old post by her father’s knee.
“How can I tell yo’ a’ about it when I never see’d one-tenth of it. It’s
as big as six Manchesters they telled me. One-sixth may be made up o’
grand palaces, and three-sixths o’ middling kind, an th’ rest o’ holes o’
iniquity and filth, such as Manchester knows nought on, I’m glad to say.”
“Well, father, but did you see the Queen?”
“I believe I didn’t, though one day I thought I’d seen her many a time.
You see,” said he, turning to Job Legh, “there were a day appointed
for us to go to Parliament House. We were most on us biding at a
public-house in Holborn, where they did very well for us. Th’ morning
of taking our petition we had such a spread for breakfast as th’ Queen
hersel might ha’ sitten down to. I suppose they thought we wanted putting
in heart. There were mutton kidneys, and sausages, and broiled ham and
fried beef and onions; more like a dinner nor a breakfast. Many on our
chaps though, I could see, could eat but little. Th’ food stuck in their
throats when they thought o’ them at home, wives and little ones, as had,
maybe at that very time, nought to eat. Well, after breakfast, we were
all set to walk in procession, and a time it took to put us in order, two
and two, and the petition, as was yards long, carried by the foremost
pairs. The men looked grave enough yo’ may ye sure; and such a set of
thin, wan, wretched-looking chaps as they were!”
“Yourself is none to boast on.”
“Ay, but I were fat and rosy to many a one. Well, we walked on and on
through many a street, much the same as Deansgate. We had to walk slowly,
slowly, for th’ carriages an’ cabs as thronged th’ streets. I thought
by-and-by we should maybe get clear on ’em, but as the streets grew wider
they grew worse, and at last we were fairly blocked up at Oxford Street.
We getten across it after a while though, and my eyes! the grand streets
we were in then! They’re sadly puzzled how to build houses though in
London; there’d be an opening for a good steady master builder there, as
know’d his business. For yo see the houses are many on ’em built without
any proper shape for a body to live in; some on ’em they’ve after thought
would fall down, so they’ve stuck great ugly pillars out before ’em.
And some on ’em (we thought they must be th’ tailors’ sign) had getten
stone men and women as wanted clothes stuck on ’em. I were like a child,
I forgot a’ my errand in looking about me. By this it were dinnertime,
or better, as we could tell by the sun, right above our heads, and we
were dusty and tired, going a step now and a step then. Well, at last we
getten into a street grander nor all, leading to th’ Queen’s palace, and
there it were I thought I saw th’ Queen. Yo’ve seen th’ hearses wi’ white
plumes, Job?”
Job assented.
“Well, them undertaker folk are driving a pretty trade in London.
Wellnigh every lady we saw in a carriage had hired one o’ them plumes
for the day, and had it niddle noddling on her head. It were th’ Queen’s
drawing-room, they said, and th’ carriages went bowling along towards
her house, some wi’ dressed-up gentlemen like circus folk in ’em, and
rucks o’ ladies in others. Carriages themselves were great shakes too.
Some o’ th’ gentlemen as couldn’t get inside hung on behind, wi’ nosegays
to smell at, and sticks to keep off folks as might splash their silk
stockings. I wonder why they didn’t hire a cab rather than hang on like
a whip-behind boy; but I suppose they wished to keep wi’ their wives,
Darby and Joan like. Coachmen were little squat men, wi’ wigs like th’
oud-fashioned parsons’. Well, we could na get on for these carriages,
though we waited and waited. Th’ horses were too fat to move quick; they
never known want o’ food, one might tell by their sleek coats; and police
pushed us back when we tried to cross. One or two of ’em struck wi’ their
sticks, and coachmen laughed, and some officers as stood nigh put their
spy-glasses in their eye, and left ’em sticking there like mountebanks.
One o’ th’ police struck me. ‘Whatten business have you to do that?’ said
I.
“‘You’re frightening them horses,’ says he, in his mincing way (for
Londoners are mostly all tongue-tied, and can’t say their a’s and i’s
properly), ‘and it’s our business to keep you from molesting the ladies
and gentlemen going to her Majesty’s drawing-room.’
“‘And why are we to be molested,’ asked I, ‘going decently about our
business, which is life and death to us, and many a little one clemming
at home in Lancashire? Which business is of most consequence i’ the sight
o’ God, think yo, our’n or them grand ladies and gentlemen as yo think so
much on?’
“But I might as well ha’ held my peace, for he only laughed.”
John ceased. After waiting a little, to see if he would go on himself,
Job said:
“Well, but that’s not a’ your story, man. Tell us what happened when you
got to th’ Parliament House.”
After a little pause, John answered:
“If you please, neighbour, I’d rather say nought about that. It’s not to
be forgotten or forgiven either, by me or many another; but I canna tell
of our down-casting just as a piece of London news. As long as I live,
our rejection of that day will abide in my heart; and as long as I live I
shall curse them as so cruelly refused to hear us; but I’ll not speak of
it no more.”