VOCES POPULI.
Scene—The Thames Embankment. Crowd discovered, waiting for Lord Mayor's Show.
Female Pleasure-seeker (whose temper is apt to be a little uncertain on these occasions, to her husband). We ought to have started at least an hour earlier—just look at the number of people here already! You would dawdle—and it wasn't for want of speaking to, I'm sure!
Her Husband (mildly). It certainly was not. Only, as the Show can't possibly pass for two hours, at least——
She. Two hours! Am I to stand about in this crowd all that time?
He (with a feeble jocularity). Unless you prefer to climb a tree.
She. Then, John, all I can say is, I wish I had stayed at home! (John murmurs a silent, but fervent assent.)
A Practical Pleasure-seeker. Now I tell you what we'll do, Maria—you take Weetie, and keep close to me, and I'll look after Duggie, and we'll just stroll comfortably up and down till the very last minute, and drop comfortably into front places, and there we are!
Patriotic P. What I like about occasions like this, is the spectacle of a thoroughly good-humoured, well-behaved British crowd—you don't see that on the Continent, y'know!
More Patriotic P. (thoughtfully). No, that's perfectly true; and what I say is—we don't want all these police about. Trust more to the general spirit of decency and order—let the people feel they are trusted!
A Socialist. Ah, you're right. Did you year what one of the Orators said in the Square the other afternoon? He told 'em Sir Charles would 'ave to be as wide awake as what he was 'imself, to prevent a Unemployed Demonstration to-day. "Let him remember," says he, "it's in our power to do that within arf a mile of the Mansion House, which would make the 'ole civilised world ring with 'orror," he says. And it's men like that as they're trying to silence and intimerdate!
The P. P.'s (edging away a little nervously, to one another). Well, I hope the Police are keeping a sharp look-out. I—I don't seem to see so many about as usual, eh?
A Speculator (with two tubs and a board) to Female P. 'Ere you are, lydy, hony two shellin' fur a fust-rate stand—you won't see no better if you was to pay a suvring!
Female P. You may say what you like, but I'm not going to tramp about any longer, and if you're so mean as to grudge two shillings—why, I can pay for myself!
Husb. Oh, hang it—get up if you want to!
The Practical P. Well, Maria, it's no use worrying now—we must go and ask at the Police-Stations afterwards—it was a mistake to bring them!
The Patriotic P. Of course one is told there's a good deal of rough horse-play on these occasions, but anything more entirely——
[A "larrikin" comes up behind and "bashes" his hat in; a string of playful youths seize each other by the waist and rush in single file through crowd, upsetting everybody in their way; both the Patriotic Pleasure-seekers go home by the Underground, without waiting for the Procession.
The Female P. (on the stand). John, I'm sure this board isn't safe. We should see ever so much better on one of those carts—they're only asking sixpence, John. You are the worst person to come out with—you never give yourself the smallest trouble—I have to do it all! You can stop here if you choose, I'm going to get into one of those carts! [She and John descend, and mount upon a coal-cart which is being driven slowly along the route.
Later; Procession approaching, distant music.
Crowd (jumping up and down like "skip-jacks" to see better). 'Ere they are, they're coming!
[The way is cleared by trotting mounted Constables.
Stout Lady. Well, if I wanted to faint ever so, I couldn't now—where are you, my dear?
Another Stout Lady (cheerfully). I'm all right, Mrs. Porter, Mum. I've got tight 'old of this nice young Perliceman's belt—don't you fret yourself about me!
Experienced Sightseer (catching hold of little Duggie and placing him in front, then pushing forward). Make room for this little boy, will you, please, I want him to see.
Crowd good-naturedly make way, affording unimpeded view of procession to Duggie—and the Experienced Sightseer, who troubles himself no further.
A Superior Sightseer. To think of the traffic of the first city in the world being stopped for this contemptible tomfoolery!
[Fights hard for a front place.
Procession passing.
Impertinent Female (to gorgeous Coachman). 'Ow you 'ave altered!
Well-informed Person (pointing out City Marshal). That's Sir Charles, that is!
Unemployed (smarting with sense of recent wrongs). Yah, toirant!
[The C. M. beams with gratification.
Open carriages pass, containing Aldermen in tall hats and fur-coats.
Critical Crowd. Brush yer 'ats! There's a nose! Oh, ain't he bin 'avin' a go at the sherry afore he started, neither! 'Ere comes old "Sir Ben"—that's 'im in the white pot 'at!
[They cheer Sir Ben—without, however, any clear notion why.
Allegorical Cars pass.
Crowd. Don't they look chilly up there! 'Old on to your globe, Sir! Don't ketch cold in them tights, Miss! They've run up agin somethink, that lot 'ave. See where it's all bent in—eh?
Lord Mayor's Coach passes.
Crowd. 'Ooray! That's 'im with the muff on. No, it ain't, yer soft 'ed! It's 'im in the feathered 'at a-layin' back. Whoy don't yer let 'im set on yer lap, Guv'nor? &c., &c.
A block. Lady Mayoress's Coach stopping.
Crowd. There's dresses! They must ha' cost a tidy penny!
Agitator. Wrung out of the pockets of the poor working-man! I'd dress 'em, I would! Why should sech as you and me keep the likes o' them in laziness? If we 'ad our rights, it's us as 'ud be riding in their places!
Artisan (after a glance at him). Dunno as the Show'd be much the prettier to look at for that, mate.
After the Procession.
Practical Pleasure-seeker (who has been pushed into a back row, and seen nothing but the banners, to Duggie and Weetie, miraculously recovered). Thank Heaven, they're found! Children, let this be a lesson to you in future never to——What? Seen the Show beautifully, have you? (Boiling over.) Oh, very well—wait till I get you home!
The Female P. Now, don't say another word, John,—anyone but an idiot would have known that that cart would be turned down a back-street! If I hadn't insisted on getting out when I did, we should have missed the Show altogether. Policeman, is the Show ever coming? Shall we get a good view from here?
Policeman. Capital view, Mum—if you don't mind waiting till next November! [Tableau. Curtain.