Sybil, Or, The Two Nations
Page 22
About three miles before it reaches the town, the river Mowe undulatesthrough a plain. The scene, though not very picturesque, has a glad andsparkling character. A stone bridge unites the opposite banks by threearches of good proportion the land about consists of meads of a vividcolour, or vegetable gardens to supply the neighbouring population,and whose various hues give life and lightness to the level ground.The immediate boundaries of the plain on either side are chiefly woods;above the crest of which in one direction expands the brown bosom of amoor. The few cottages which are sprinkled about this scene being builtof stone, and on an ample scale, contribute to the idea of comfort andplenty which, with a serene sky and on a soft summer day, the travellerwillingly associates with it.
Such was the sky and season in which Egremont emerged on this scene afew days after the incidents recorded in our last chapter. He had beenfishing in the park of Mowbray, and had followed the rivulet throughmany windings until, quitting the enclosed domain it had forced its waythrough some craggy underwood at the bottom of the hilly moors we havenoticed, and finally entering the plain, lost itself in the waters ofthe greater stream.
Good sport had not awaited Egremont. Truth to say, his rod had played ina very careless hand. He had taken it, though an adept in the craft whenin the mood, rather as an excuse to be alone, than a means to be amused.There are seasons in life when solitude is a necessity; and such a onehad now descended on the spirit of the brother of Lord Marney.
The form of Sybil Gerard was stamped upon his brain. It blended with allthoughts; it haunted every object. Who was this girl, unlike all womenwhom he had yet encountered, who spoke with such sweet seriousness ofthings of such vast import, but which had never crossed his mind, andwith a kind of mournful majesty bewailed the degradation of her race?The daughter of the lowly, yet proud of her birth. Not a noble lady inthe land who could boast a mien more complete, and none of them thusgifted, who possessed withal the fascinating simplicity that pervadedevery gesture and accent of the daughter of Gerard.
Yes! the daughter of Gerard; the daughter of a workman at a manufactory.It had not been difficult, after the departure of Sybil, to extract thisinformation from the garrulous wife of the weaver. And that father,--hewas not unknown to Egremont. His proud form and generous countenancewere still fresh in the mind's eye of our friend. Not less so histhoughtful speech; full of knowledge and meditation and earnest feeling!How much that he had spoken still echoed in the heart, and rung in thebrooding ear of Egremont. And his friend, too, that pale man withthose glittering eyes, who without affectation, without pedantry, withartlessness on the contrary and a degree of earnest singleness, hadglanced like a master of philosophy at the loftiest principles ofpolitical science,--was he too a workman? And are these then THE PEOPLE?If so, thought Egremont, would that I lived more among them! Comparedwith their converse, the tattle of our saloons has in it somethinghumiliating. It is not merely that it is deficient in warmth, and depth,and breadth; that it is always discussing persons instead of principles,and cloaking its want of thought in mimetic dogmas and its want offeeling in superficial raillery; it is not merely that it has neitherimagination, nor fancy, nor sentiment, nor feeling, nor knowledgeto recommend it; but it appears to me, even as regards manner andexpression, inferior in refinement and phraseology; in short, trivial,uninteresting, stupid, really vulgar.
It seemed to Egremont that, from the day he met these persons in theAbbey ruins, the horizon of his experience had insensibly expanded; morethan that, there were streaks of light breaking in the distance, whichalready gave a new aspect to much that was known, and which perhapswas ultimately destined to reveal much that was now utterly obscure.He could not resist the conviction that from the time in question, hissympathies had become more lively and more extended; that a masculineimpulse had been given to his mind; that he was inclined to view publicquestions in a tone very different to that in which he had surveyed thema few weeks back, when on the hustings of his borough.
Revolving these things, he emerged, as we have stated, into the plain ofthe Mowe, and guiding his path by the course of the river, he arrived atthe bridge which a fancy tempted him to cross. In its centre, was a mangazing on the waters below and leaning over the parapet. His footsteproused the loiterer, who looked round; and Egremont saw that it wasWalter Gerard.
Gerard returned his salute, and said, "Early hours on Saturday afternoonmake us all saunterers;" and then, as their way was the same, theywalked on together. It seemed that Gerard's cottage was near at hand,and having inquired after Egremont's sport, and receiving for a replya present of a brace of trout,--the only one, by the bye, that was inEgremont's basket,--he could scarcely do less than invite his companionto rest himself.
"There is my home," said Gerard, pointing to a cottage recently built,and in a pleasing style. Its materials were of a fawn-coloured stone,common in the Mowbray quarries. A scarlet creeper clustered round oneside of its ample porch; its windows were large, mullioned, and neatlylatticed; it stood in the midst of a garden of no mean dimensionsbut every bed and nook of which teemed with cultivation flowers andvegetables both abounded, while an orchard rich with promise of manyfruits; ripe pears and famous pippins of the north and plums of everyshape and hue; screened the dwelling from that wind against which thewoods that formed its back-ground were no protection.
"And you are well lodged! Your garden does you honour."
"I'll be honest enough to own I have no claim to the credit," saidGerard. "I am but a lazy chiel."
They entered the cottage, where a hale old woman greeted them.
"She is too old to be my wife, and too young to be my mother," saidGerard smiling; "but she is a good creature, and has looked after memany a long day. Come, dame," he said, "thou'lt bring us a cup of tea;'tis a good evening beverage," he added, turning to Egremont. "and whatI ever take at this time. And if you care to light a pipe, you will finda companion."
"I have renounced tobacco," said Egremont; "tobacco is the tomb oflove," and they entered a neatly-furnished chamber, that had thathabitable look which the best room of a farmhouse too often wants.Instead of the cast-off furniture of other establishments, at the sametime dingy and tawdry, mock rosewood chairs and tarnished mahoganytables, there was an oaken table, some cottage chairs made of beechwood, and a Dutch clock. But what surprised Egremont was the appearanceof several shelves well lined with volumes. Their contents too on closerinspection were very remarkable. They indicated a student of a highorder. Egremont read the titles of works which he only knew by fame, butwhich treated of the loftiest and most subtle questions of socialand political philosophy. As he was throwing his eye over them, hiscompanion said, "Ah! I see you think me as great a scholar as I am agardener: but with as little justice; these hooks are not mine."
"To whomsoever they belong," said Egremont, "if we are to judge from hiscollection, he has a tolerably strong head."
"Ay, ay," said Gerard, "the world will hear of him yet, though hewas only a workman, and the son of a workman. He has not been at yourschools and your colleges, but he can write his mother tongue, asShakespeare and Cobbett wrote it; and you must do that, if you wish toinfluence the people."
"And might I ask his name," said Egremont.
"Stephen Morley, my friend."
"The person I saw with you at Marney Abbey?"
"The same."
"And he lives with you?"
"Why, we kept house together, if you could call it so. Stephen does notgive much trouble in that way. He only drinks water and only eats herbsand fruits. He is the gardener," added Gerard, smiling. "I don't knowhow we shall fare when he leaves me."
"And is he going to leave you?"
"Why in a manner he has gone. He has taken a cottage about a quarter ofa mile up the dale; and only left his books here, because he is goinginto --shire in a day or two, on some business, that may be will takehim a week or so. The books are safer here you see for the present, forStephen lives alone, and is a good deal away, for he edits a paper at
Mowbray, and that must be looked after. He is to be my gardener still.I promised him that. Well done, dame," said Gerard, as the old womanentered; "I hope for the honour of the house a good brew. Now comradesit down: it will do you good after your long stroll. You should eatyour own trout if you would wait?"
"By no means. You will miss your friend, I should think?"
"We shall see a good deal of him, I doubt not, what with the garden andneighbourhood and so on besides, in a manner, he is master of his owntime. His work is not like ours; and though the pull on the brain issometimes great, I have often wished I had a talent that way. It's adrear life to do the same thing every day at the same hour. But I nevercould express my ideas except with my tongue; and there I feel tolerablyat home."
"It will be a pity to see this room without these books," said Egremont,encouraging conversation on domestic subjects.
"So it will," said Gerard. "I have got very few of my own. But mydaughter will be able to fill the shelves in time, I warrant."
"Your daughter--she is coming to live with you?"
"Yes; that is the reason why Stephen quits us. He only remained hereuntil Sybil could keep my house, and that happy day is at hand."
"That is a great compensation for the loss of your friend," saidEgremont.
"And yet she talks of flitting," said Gerard, in a rather melancholytone. "She hankers after the cloister. She has passed a still, sweetlife in the convent here; the Superior is the sister of my employer anda very saint on earth; and Sybil knows nothing of the real world exceptits sufferings. No matter," he added more cheerfully; "I would not haveher take the veil rashly, but if I lose her it may be for the best. Forthe married life of a woman of our class in the present condition of ourcountry is a lease of woe," he added shaking his head, "slaves, and theslaves of slaves? Even woman's spirit cannot stand against it; and itcan bear against more than we can, master."
"Your daughter is not made for the common cares of life," said Egremont.
"We'll not talk of them," said Gerard. "Sybil has an English heart, andthat's not easily broken. And you, comrade, you are a traveller in theseparts, eh?"
"A kind of traveller; something in the way of your friendMorley--connected with the press."
"Indeed! a reporter, eh? I thought you had something about you a littlemore knowing than we provincials."
"Yes; a reporter; they want information in London as to the real stateof the country, and this time of the year, Parliament not sitting--Ah;I understand, a flying commission and a summer tour. Well, I often wishI were a penman; but I never could do it. I'll read any day as long asyou like, but that writing, I could never manage. My friend Morley is apowerful hand at it. His journal circulates a good deal about here; andif as I often tell him he would only sink his high-flying philosophy andstick to old English politics, he might make a property of it. You'lllike to know him?"
"Much."
"And what first took you to the press, if I may ask!"
"Why--my father was a gentleman--", said Egremont in a hesitating tone,"and I was a younger son."
"Ah!" said Gerard, "that is as bad as being a woman."
"I had no patrimony," continued Egremont, "and I was obliged to work; Ihad no head I believe for the law; the church was not exactly in my way;and as for the army, how was I to advance without money or connexions! Ihad had some education, and so I thought I would turn it to account."
"Wisely done! you are one of the working classes, and will enlist I hopein the great struggle against the drones. The natural friends of thepeople are younger sons, though they are generally enlisted against us.The more fools they; to devote their energies to the maintenance of asystem which is founded on selfishness and which leads to fraud; andof which they are the first victims. But every man thinks he will be anexception."
"And yet," said Egremont, "a great family rooted in the land, has beendeemed to be an element of political strength."
"I'll tell you what," said Gerard, "there is a great family in thiscountry and rooted in it, of which we have heard much less than theydeserved, but of which I suspect we shall hear very soon enough to makeus all think a bit."
"In this county?"
"Ay; in this county and every other one; I mean the PEOPLE."
"Ah!" said Egremont, "that family has existed for a long time."
"But it has taken to increase rapidly of late, my friend--how may I callyou?"
"They call me, Franklin."
"A good English name of a good English class that has disappeared.Well, Mr Franklin, be sure of this, that the Population Returns of thiscountry are very instructive reading."
"I can conceive so."
"I became a man when the bad times were beginning," said Gerard; "I havepassed through many doleful years. I was a Franklin's son myself, and wehad lived on this island at least no worse for a longer time than I careto recollect as little as what I am now. But that's nothing; I am notthinking of myself. I am prosperous in a fashion it is the serfs I liveamong of whom I am thinking. Well, I have heard, in the course of years,of some specifics for this constant degradation of the people; something or some person that was to put all right; and for my part, I wasnot unready to support any proposal or follow any leader. There wasreform, and there was paper money, and no machinery, and a thousandother remedies; and there were demagogues of all kinds, some as had asmyself, and some with blood in their veins almost as costly as flows inthose of our great neighbour here. Earl de Mowbray, and I have alwaysheard that was very choice: but I will frankly own to you, I neverhad much faith in any of these proposals or proposers; but they were achange, and that is something. But I have been persuaded of late thatthere is something going on in this country of more efficacy; a remedialpower, as I believe, and irresistible; but whether remedial or not,at any rate a power that will mar all or cure all. You apprehend me?I speak of the annual arrival of more than three hundred thousandstrangers in this island. How will you feed them? How will you clothethem? How will you house them? They have given up butcher's meat; mustthey give up bread? And as for raiment and shelter, the rags of thekingdom are exhausted and your sinks and cellars already swarm likerabbit warrens.
"'Tis an awful consideration," said Egremont musing.
"Awful," said Gerard; "'tis the most solemn thing since the deluge.What kingdom can stand against it? Why go to your history--you're ascholar,--and see the fall of the great Roman empire--what was that?Every now and then, there came two or three hundred thousand strangersout of the forests and crossed the mountains and rivers. They come tous every year and in greater numbers. What are your invasions of thebarbarous nations, your Goths and Visigoths, your Lombards and Huns, toour Population Returns!"
END OF THE SECOND BOOK
BOOK III
Book 3 Chapter 1