Sybil, Or, The Two Nations

by Earl of Beaconsfield Benjamin Disraeli

  Two days after the visit of Egremont to the cottage of Walter Gerard,the visit of the Marney family to Mowbray terminated, and they returnedto the Abbey.

  There is something mournful in the breaking up of an agreeable party,and few are the roofs in which one has sojourned, which are quittedwithout some feeling of depression. The sudden cessation of all thosesources of excitement which pervade a gay and well arranged mansion inthe country, unstrings the nervous system. For a week or so, we havedone nothing which was not agreeable, and heard nothing which was notpleasant. Our self-love has been respected; there has been a totalcessation of petty cares; all the enjoyment of an establisnment withoutany of its solicitude. We have beheld civilization only in its favouredaspect, and tasted only the sunny side of the fruit. Sometimes there areassociations with our visit of a still sweeter and softer character, buton these we need not dwell: glances that cannot be forgotten, and tonesthat linger in the ear; sentiment that subdues the soul, and flirtationthat agitates the fancy. No matter, whatever may be the cause, one toooften drives away from a country-house, rather hipped. The specificwould be immediately to drive to another, and it is a favourite remedy.But sometimes it is not in our power; sometimes for instance we mustreturn to our household gods in the shape of a nursery; and though thiswas not the form assumed by the penates of Lord Marney, his presence,the presence of an individual so important and so indefatigable, wasstill required. His Lordship had passed his time at Mowbray to hissatisfaction. He had had his own way in everything. His selfishness hadnot received a single shock. He had lain down the law and it had notbeen questioned. He had dogmatised and impugned, and his assertionshad passed current, and his doctrines been accepted as orthodox. LordMowbray suited him; he liked the consideration of so great a personage.Lord Marney also really liked pomp; a curious table and a luxuriouslife; but he liked them under any roof rather than his own. Not that hewas what is commonly called a Screw; that is to say he was not amere screw; but he was acute and malicious; saw everybody's worth andposition at a glance; could not bear to expend his choice wines andcostly viands on hangers-on and toad-eaters, though at the same time noman encouraged and required hangers-on and toad-eaters more. LordMarney had all the petty social vices, and none of those petty socialweaknesses which soften their harshness or their hideousness. To receivea prince of the blood or a great peer he would spare nothing. Had he tofulfil any of the public duties of his station, his performance wouldbaffle criticism. But he enjoyed making the Vicar of Marney or CaptainGrouse drink some claret that was on the wane, or praise a bottle ofBurgundy that he knew was pricked.

  Little things affect little minds. Lord Marney rose in no very goodhumour; he was kept at the station, which aggravated his spleen. Duringhis journey on the railroad he spoke little, and though he more thanonce laboured to get up a controversy he was unable, for Lady Marney,who rather dreaded her dull home, and was not yet in a tone of mind thatcould hail the presence of the little Poinsett as full compensation forthe brilliant circle of Mowbray, replied in amiable monosyllables, andEgremont himself in austere ones, for he was musing over Sybil Gerardand a thousand things as wild and sweet.

  Everything went wrong this day. Even Captain Grouse was not at the Abbeyto welcome them back. He was playing in a cricket match, Marney againstMarham. Nothing else would have induced him to be absent. So it happenedthat the three fellow-travellers had to dine together, utterly weary ofthemselves and of each other. Captain Grouse was never more wanted; hewould have amused Lord Marney, relieved his wife and brother, reportedall that had been said and done in their neighbourhood during theirabsence, introduced a new tone, and effected a happy diversion. LeavingMowbray, detained at the station, Grouse away, some disagreeableletters, or letters which an ill-humoured man chooses to esteemdisagreeable, seemed to announce a climax. Lord Marney ordered thedinner to be served in the small dining-room, which was contiguous to asaloon in which Lady Marney, when they were alone, generally passed theevening.

  The dinner was silent and sombre; happily it was also short. Lord Marneytasted several dishes, ate of none; found fault with his own claret,though the butler had given him a choice bottle; praised Lord Mowbray's,wondered where he got it, "all the wines at Mowbray were good;" then forthe twentieth time wondered what could have induced Grouse to fix thecricket match the day he returned home, though he chose to forget thathe had never communicated to Grouse even the probable day on which hemight be expected.

  As for Egremont it must be admitted that he was scarcely in a morecontented mood than his brother, though he had not such insufficientcause for his dark humours. In quitting Mowbray, he had quittedsomething else than merely an agreeable circle: enough had happened inthat visit to stir up the deep recesses of his heart, and to prompthim to investigate in an unusual spirit the cause and attributes ofhis position. He had found a letter on his return to the Abbey, notcalculated to dispel these somewhat morbid feelings; a letter from hisagent, urging the settlement of his election accounts, the primary causeof his visit to his brother.

  Lady Marney left the dining-room; the brothers were alone. Lord Marneyfilled a bumper, which he drank off rapidly, pushed the bottle to hisbrother, and then said again, "What a cursed bore it is that Grouse isnot here."

  "Well, I cannot say, George, that I particularly miss the presence ofCaptain Grouse," said his brother.

  Lord Marney looked at Egremont pugnaciously, and then observed, "Grouseis a capital fellow; one is never dull when Grouse is here."

  "Well, for my part," said Egremont, "I do not much admire that amusementwhich is dependent on the efforts of hangers-on."

  "Grouse is no more a hanger-on than any one else," said Lord Marney,rather fiercely.

  "Perhaps not," said Egremont quietly; "I am no judge of such sort ofpeople."

  "I should like to know what you are a judge of; certainly not of makingyourself agreeable to young ladies. Arabella cannot he particularlycharmed with the result of your visit to Mowbray, as far as Lady Joan isconcerned, Arabella's most intimate friend by the bye. If for no otherreason, you ought to have paid her more attention."

  "I cannot pay attention unless I am attracted," said Egremont; "I havenot the ever-ready talent of your friend, Captain Grouse."

  "I do not know what you mean by my friend Captain Grouse. Captain Grouseis no more my friend than your friend. One must have people about thehouse to do a thousand things which one cannot do oneself, and which onecannot trust to servants, and Grouse does all this capitally."

  "Exactly; he is just what I said, a capital hanger-on if you like, butstill a hanger-on."

  "Well, and what then! Suppose he is a hanger-on may I not havehangers-on as well as any other man?"

  "Of course you may; but I am not bound to regret their absence."

  "Who said you were? But I will regret their absence, if I choose. And Iregret the absence of Grouse, regret it very much; and if he did happento be inextricably engaged in this unfortunate match, I say, and youmay contradict me if you please, that he ought to have taken care thatSlimsey dined here, to tell me all that had happened."

  "I am very glad he omitted to do so," said Egremont; "I prefer Grouse toSlimsey."

  "I dare say you do," said Lord Marney, filling his glass andlooking very black; "you would like, I have no doubt, to see a finegentleman-saint, like your friend Mr St Lys, at Marney, preaching incottages, filling the people with discontent, lecturing me about lowwages, soliciting plots of grounds for new churches, and inveiglingArabella into subscriptions to painted windows."

  "I certainly should like to see a man like Aubrey St Lys at Marney,"said Egremont quietly, but rather doggedly.

  "And if he were here, I would soon see who should be master," said LordMarney; "I would not succumb like Mowbray. One might as well have ajesuit in the house at once."

  "I dare say St Lys would care very little about entering your house,"said Egremont. "I know it was with great reluctance that he ever came toMowbray Castle."

  "I dare say; very
great reluctance indeed. And very reluctant he was,I make no doubt, to sit next to Lady Maud. I wonder he does not flyhigher, and preach to Lady Joan; but she is too sensible a woman forsuch fanatical tricks."

  "St Lys thinks it his duty to enter all societies. That is the reasonwhy he goes to Mowbray Castle, as well as to the squalid courts andcellars of the town. He takes care that those who are clad in purpleand fine linen shall know the state of their neighbours. They cannotat least plead ignorance for the nonfulfilment of their duty. Before StLys's time, the family at Mowbray Castle might as well have not existed,as far as benefiting their miserable vicinage. It would be well perhapsfor other districts not less wretched, and for other families as highand favoured as the Mowbrays, if there were a Mr St Lys on the spotinstead of a Mr Slimsey."

  "I suppose that is meant for a cut," said Lord Marney; "but I wish thepeople were as well off in every part of the country as they are onmy estate. They get here their eight shillings a week, always at leastseven, and every hand is at this moment in employ, except a parcel ofscoundrels who prefer woodstealing and poaching, and who would preferwood-stealing and poaching if you gave them double the wages. The rateof wages is nothing: certainty is the thing; and every man at Marney maybe sure of his seven shillings a-week for at least nine months in theyear; and for the other three, they can go to the House, and a veryproper place for them; it is heated with hot air, and has every comfort.Even Marney Abbey is not heated with hot air. I have often thought ofit; it makes me mad sometimes to think of those lazy, pampered menialspassing their lives with their backs to a great roaring fire; but I amafraid of the flues."

  "I wonder, talking of fires, that you are not more afraid of burningricks," said Egremont.

  "It's an infernal lie," said Lord Marney, very violently.

  "What is?" said Egremont.

  "That there is any incendiarism in this neighbourhood."

  "Why, there was a fire the day after I came."

  "That had nothing to do with wages; it was an accident. I examined intoit myself; so did Grouse, so did Slimsey; I sent them about everywhere.I told them I was sure the fire was purely accidental, and to go and seeabout it; and they came back and agreed that it was purely accidental."

  "I dare say they did," said Egremont; "but no one has discovered theaccident."

  "For my part, I believe it was spontaneous combustion," said LordMarney.

  "That is a satisfactory solution." said Egremont, "but for my part, thefire being a fact, and it being painfully notorious that the people ofMarney--"

  "Well, sir, the people of Marney"--said his lordship fiercely.

  "Are without question the most miserable population in the county."

  "Did Mr St Lys tell you that?" interrupted Lord Marney, white with rage.

  "No, not Mr Lys, but one better acquainted with the neighbourhood."

  "I'll know your informant's name," said Lord Marney with energy.

  "My informant was a woman," said Egremont.

  "Lady Maud, I suppose; second-hand from Mr St Lys."

  "Mv informant was a woman, and one of the people," said Egremont.

  "Some poacher's drab! I don't care what women say, high or low, theyalways exaggerate."

  "The misery of a family who live upon seven or even eight shillingsa-week can scarcely be exaggerated."

  "What should you know about it? Did you ever live on seven or eightshillings a-week? What can you know about the people who pass your timeat London clubs or in fine country houses? I suppose you want the peopleto live as they do at a house dinner at Boodle's. I say that a familycan live very well on seven shillings a-week, and on eight shillingsvery well indeed. The poor are very well off, at least the agriculturalpoor, very well off indeed. Their incomes are certain, that is agreat point, and they have no cares, no anxieties; they always havea resource, they always have the House. People without cares do notrequire as much food as those whose life entails anxieties. See how longthey live! Compare the rate of mortality among them with that of themanufacturing districts. Incendiarism indeed! If there had been a properrural police, such a thing as incendiarism would never have been heardof!"

  There was a pause. Lord Marney dashed off another bumper; Egremontsipped his wine. At length he said, "This argument made me forget theprincipal reason, George, why I am glad that we are alone togetherto-day. I am sorry to bore you, but I am bored myself deucedly. I find aletter from my agent. These election accounts must be settled."

  "Why, I thought they were settled."

  "How do you mean?"

  "I thought my mother had given you a thousand pounds."

  "No doubt of that, but that was long ago disposed of."

  "In my opinion quite enough for a seat in these times. Instead of payingto get into Parliament, a man ought to be paid for entering it."

  "There may be a good deal in what you say," said Egremont; "but itis too late to take that view of the business. The expense has beenincurred and must be met."

  "I don't see that," said Lord Marney, "we have paid one thousand poundsand there is a balance unsettled. When was there ever a contest withouta balance being unsettled? I remember hearing my father often say thatwhen he stood for this county, our grandfather paid more than ahundred thousand pounds, and yet I know to this day there are accountsunsettled. Regularly every year I receive anonymous letters threateningme with fearful punishment if I don't pay one hundred and fifty poundsfor a breakfast at the Jolly Tinkers."

  "You jest: the matter indeed requires a serious vein. I wish theseaccounts to be settled at once."

  "And I should like to know where the funds are to come from! I havenone. The quantity of barns I am building now is something tremendous!Then this rage for draining; it would dry up any purse. What think youof two million tiles this year? And rents,--to keep up which we aremaking these awful sacrifices--they are merely nominal, or soon will be.They never will be satisfied till they have touched the land. That isclear to me. I am prepared for a reduction of five-and-twenty per cent;if the corn laws are touched, it can't be less than that. My motherought to take it into consideration and reduce her jointure accordingly.But I dare say she will not; people are so selfish; particularly as shehas given you this thousand pounds, which in fact after all comes out ofmy pocket."

  "All this you have said to me before. What does it mean? I fought thisbattle at the instigation of the family, from no feeling of my own. Youare the head of the family and you were consulted on the step. UnlessI had concluded that it was with your sanction, I certainly should nothave made my appearance on the hustings."

  "I am very glad you did though," said Lord Marney; "Parliament is agreat point for our class: in these days especially, more even than inthe old time. I was truly rejoiced at your success, and it mortified thewhigs about us most confoundedly. Some people thought there was only onefamily in the world to have their Richmond or their Malton. Getting youin for the old borough was really a coup."

  "Well now, to retain our interest," said Egremont, "quick payment of ourexpenses is the most efficient way, believe me."

  "You have got six years, perhaps seven," said Lord Marney, "and longbefore that I hope to find you the husband of Lady Joan Fitz-Warene."

  "I do not wish to connect the two contingencies," said Egremont firmly.

  "They are inseparable," said Lord Marney.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that I think this pedantic acquittance of an electioneeringaccount is in the highest degree ridiculous, and that I cannot interferein it. The legal expenses are you say paid; and if they were not, Ishould feel myself bound, as the head of the family, to defray them, butI can go no further. I cannot bring myself to sanction an expenditurefor certainly very unnecessary, perhaps, and I much fear it, for illegaland very immoral purposes."

  "That really is your determination?"

  "After the most mature reflection, prompted by a sincere solicitude foryour benefit."

  "Well, George, I have often suspected it, but now I feel
quitepersuaded, that you are really the greatest humbug that ever existed."

  "Abuse is not argument, Mr Egremont."

  "You are beneath abuse, as you are beneath every sentiment but one,which I most entirely feel," and Egremont rose from the table.

  "You may thank your own obstinacy and conceit," said Lord Marney. "Itook you to Mowbray Castle, and the cards were in your own hands if youchose to play them."

  "You have interfered with me once before on such a subject. LordMarney," said Egremont, with a kindling eye and a cheek pallid withrage.

  "You had better not say that again," said Lord Marney in a tone ofmenace.

  "Why not?" asked Egremont fiercely. "Who and what are you to dare toaddress me thus?"

  "I am your elder brother, sir, whose relationship to you is your onlyclaim to the consideration of society."

  "A curse on the society that has fashioned such claims." said Egremontin an heightened tone--"claims founded in selfishness, cruelty, andfraud, and leading to demoralization, misery, and crime."

  "Claims which I will make you respect, at least in this house, sir,"said Lord Marney, springing from his chair.

  "Touch me at your peril!" exclaimed Egremont, "or I will forget you aremy mother's son, and cleave you to the ground. You have been the blightof my life; you stole from me my bride, and now you would rob me of myhonour."

  "Liar and villain!" exclaimed Lord Marney, darting forward: but atthis moment his wife rushed into the apartment and clung to him. "Forheaven's sake," she exclaimed, "What is all this? George, Charles,dearest George!"

  "Let me go, Arabella."

  "Let him come on."

  But Lady Marney gave a piercing shriek, and held out her arms to keepthe brothers apart. A sound was heard at the other door; there wasnothing in the world that Lord Marney dreaded so much as that hisservants should witness a domestic scene. He sprang forward to the doorto prevent any one entering; partially opening it, he said Lady Marneywas unwell and desired her maid; returning, he found Arabella insensibleon the ground, and Egremont vanished!

  Book 3 Chapter 3