Henry Mahew
And ye shall walk in silk attire
From London Characters: Illustrations of the humour, pathos, and peculiarities of London life
"Ah, Billy, I'm so glad to see you, I've been dreadful bad, nearly dead, with the cholera. I was took dreadful about one o'clock in the morning; just the time the good 'ooman down below were taken. What agony I suffered to be sure! I hope to God you may never have it. I've known four hundred die about here in fourteen days. I couldn't work! oh, no ! It took all the use of my strength from me, as if I'd been on a sick bed for months. And how I lived I can't tell. To say the truth, I wanted - such as I never ought to want - I wanted for common necessaries. I got round as well as I could; but how I did it I don't know. God knows; I don't, that's true enough. I hadn't got any money to buy anything. Why, there's seven on us - yes, there's seven on us, all dependent on weaving here - nothing else. What was four shillings a yard is paid one and nine now, so I leaves you to judge, sir; ain't it, Billy? My work stopped for seven days, and as I was larning my boy, his stopped too, and we had nothing to live upon. I pawned my things - and shall never get 'em again - to buy some bread, tea, and sugar for my young ones there. Oh! its like a famine in these parts just now, among the people, now they're getting well. It's no use talking about the parish; you might as well talk to a wall. There was hardly anybody well just round about here, from the back of Shoreditch Church, you may say, to Swan Street. The prices of weaving is so low that we're ashamed to say what it is; because it's the means of pulling down other people's wages and other trades. Why, to tell you the truth, you must needs suppose that ls. 9d. a yard ain't much, and some of the masters is so cruel that they gives no more than 1s. 3d. a yard. Wretched is their condition! The people is a being brought to that state of destitution that many say it's a blessing from the Almighty when it comes to their time to be took from the world. They lose all love of country - yes, and all hopes; and they prays to be tortured no longer. Why, want is common to a hundred families close here to-morrow morning; and this it is to have cheap silks. I should like to ask a question here, as I sees you a writing, sir. When is the people of England to see that there big loaf they was promised - that's it - the people wants to know when they're to have it? I'm sure if the ladies who wears what we makes, or the Queen of England herself, was to see our state, she'd never let her subjects suffer such privations in a land of plenty. Yes, I was comfortable in '24. I kept a good little house, and I thought, as my young ones growed up, why, I thought I should be comfortable in my old age. I could live by my labour then; but now, why it's wretched in the extreme. Then I'd a nice little garden and some nice tulips for my hobby when my work was done. There they lay, up in my old hat now. As for animal food, why it's a stranger to us. Once a week, maybe, we gets a taste of it, but that's a hard struggle; and many families don't have it once a month. A jint we never sees. Oh, it's too bad! There's seven on us here in this room; but it's a very large room to some weavers' - their's ain't half the size of this here. The weavers is in general five or six, all living and working in the same room. There's four on us here in this bed - one head to foot, one at our back along the bolster, and me and my wife side by side; and there's four on 'em over there; my brother Tom makes up the other one. There's a nice state in a Christian land! How many do you think lives in this house? Why, twenty-three mortal souls! Oh! ain't it too bad? But the people is frightened to say how bad they're off, for fear of their masters, and losing their work; so they keeps it to themselves, poor creatures! But oh, there's many a one wuss than we are. Many's gone to the docks, and some's turned costermongers; but none goes stealing, or a sojering, that I hears of. They goes out to get a loaf of bread. Oh, it's a shocking scene ! I can't say what my thoughts is about the young 'uns. Why, you loses yer natural affection for 'em. It's wretched in the extreme to see one's children want and not to be able to do to them as a parent ought; and I say this 'ere after all you've heard me state - that the Government of my native land ought to interpose their powerful arm to put a stop to such things. Unless they do, civil society with us is all at an end. Everybody is becoming brutal - unnatural. Billy! just turn up that shelf now, and let the gentleman see the beautiful fabrics we're in the habit of producing, and then he shall say whether we ought to be in the filthy state we are. Just show the light, Tilly! That's for ladies to wear, and adorn their figures with, and make theirselves handsome."
"I say, just turn it up, Billy, and show the gentleman the back. That's cotton, partly, you see, sir, just for the manufacturers to cheat the public with. All they want is to get a cheap article, and have all the gold out of the poor working creatures they can. But Death, Billy, Death, gets all the gold out of them after all ! They're playing a deep game, but Death wins in the end! Oh, when this here's made known wont the manufacturers be in a way to find the public put up to their tricks! They've lowered the wages to that extent that one would hardly believe the people would take out the work at such a price. But what's one to do? The children can't quite starve."