R. M. Ballantyne - "Confessio Amantis"

William Shakespeare - "The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet"

Unkown - "Catalan's Constant"

Edith Wharton - "The Descent of Man and Other Stories"

Sybil, or the Two Nations

B >> Benjamin Disraeli >> Sybil, or the Two Nations




"Do not you think it would be rather sudden?" said Lady
Deloraine.

"What does that signify? He will understand it; he will have
gained his object; and all will be right."

"But are you sure it is his object? We do not know the man."

"What else can be his object?" said Lady St Julians. "People
get into Parliament to get on; their aims are indefinite. If
they have indulged in hallucinations about place before they
enter the House, they are soon freed from such distempered
fancies; they find they have no more talent than other people,
and if they had, they learn that power, patronage and pay are
reserved for us and our friends. Well then like practical
men, they look to some result, and they get it. They are
asked out to dinner more than they would be; they move
rigmarole resolutions at nonsensical public meetings; and they
get invited with their women to assemblies at their leader's
where they see stars and blue ribbons, and above all, us, whom
they little think in appearing on such occasions, make the
greatest conceivable sacrifice. Well then, of course such
people are entirely in one's power, if one only had time and
inclination to notice them. You can do anything with them.
Ask them to a ball, and they will give you their votes; invite
them to dinner and if necessary they will rescind them; but
cultivate them, remember their wives at assemblies and call
their daughters, if possible, by their right names; and they
will not only change their principles or desert their party
for you; but subscribe their fortunes if necessary and lay
down their lives in your service."

"You paint them to the life, my dear Lady St Julians," said
Lady Deloraine laughing; "but with such knowledge and such
powers, why did you not save our boroughs?"

"We had lost our heads, then, I must confess," said Lady St
Julians. "What with the dear King and the dear Duke, we
really had brought ourselves to believe that we lived in the
days of Versailles or nearly; and I must admit I think we had
become a little too exclusive. Out of the cottage circle,
there was really no world, and after all we were lost not by
insulting the people but by snubbing the aristocracy."

The servant announced Lady Firebrace. "Oh! my dear Lady
Deloraine. Oh! my dear Lady St Julians!" and she shook her
head.

"You have no news, I suppose," said Lady St Julians.

"Only about that dreadful Mr Trenchard; you know the reason
why he ratted?"

"No, indeed," said Lady St Julians with a sigh.

"An invitation to Lansdowne House, for himself and his wife!"

"Oh! he is married then?"

"Yes; she is at the bottom of it all. Terms regularly settled
beforehand. I have a note here--all the facts." And Lady
Firebrace twirled in her hand a bulletin from Mr Tadpole.

"Lansdowne House is destined to cross me," said Lady St
Julians with bitterness.

"Well it is very provoking," said Lady Deloraine, "when you
had made up your mind to ask them for Wednesday."

"Yes, that alone is a sacrifice," said Lady St Julians.

"Talking over the division I suppose," said Egremont as he
entered.

"Ah! Mr Egremont," said Lady St Julians. "What a hachis you
made of it

Lady Firebrace shook her head, as it were reproachfully.

"Charles," said Lady Deloraine, "we were talking of this Mr
Trenchard. Did I not once hear you say you knew something of
him?"

"Why, he is one of my intimate acquaintance."

"Heavens! what a man for a friend!" said Lady St Julians.

"Heavens!" echoed Lady Firebrace raising her hands.

"And why did you not present him to me, Charles," said Lady
Deloraine.

"I did; at Lady Peel's."

"And why did you not ask him here?"

"I did several times; but he would not come."

"He is going to Lansdowne House, though," said Lady Firebrace.

"I suppose you wrote the leading article in the Standard which
I have just read," said Egremont smiling. "It announces in
large type the secret reasons of Mr Trenchard's vote."

"It is a fact," said Lady Firebrace.

"That Trenchard is going to Lansdowne House to-night; very
likely. I have met him at Lansdowne House half-a-dozen times.
He is very intimate with the family and lives in the same
county."

"But his wife," said Lady Firebrace; "that's the point: he
never could get his wife there before."

"He has none," said Egremont very quietly.

"Then we may regain him," said Lady St Julians with energy.
"You shall make a little dinner to Greenwich, Mr Egremont, and
I will sit next to him."

"Fortunate Trenchard!" said Egremont. "But do you know I fear
he is hardly worthy of his lot. He has a horror of fine
ladies; and there is nothing in the world he more avoids than
what you call society. At home, as this morning when I
breakfasted with him, or in a circle of his intimates, he is
the best company in the world; no one so well informed, fuller
of rich humour, and more sincerely amiable. He is popular
with all who know him--except Taper, Lady St Julians, and
Tadpole, Lady Firebrace."

"Well, I think I will ask him still for Wednesday," said Lady
St Julians; "and I will write him a little note. If society
is not his object, what is?"

"Ay!" said Egremont, "there is a great question for you and
Lady Firebrace to ponder over. This is a lesson for you fine
ladies, who think you can govern the world by what you call
your social influences: asking people once or twice a-year to
an inconvenient crowd in your house; now haughtily smirking,
and now impertinently staring, at them; and flattering
yourselves all this time, that to have the occasional
privilege of entering your saloons and the periodical
experience of your insolent recognition, is to be a reward for
great exertions, or if necessary an inducement to infamous
tergiversation."




Book 4 Chapter 4



It was night: clear and serene, though the moon had not risen;
and a vast concourse of persons were assembling on Mowbray
Moor. The chief gathering collected in the vicinity of some
huge rocks, one of which, pre-eminent above its fellows, and
having a broad flat head, on which some twenty persons might
easily stand at the same time, was called the Druid's Altar.
The ground about was strewn with stony fragments, covered
tonight with human beings, who found a convenient resting-
place amid these ruins of some ancient temple or relics of
some ancient world. The shadowy concourse increased, the dim
circle of the nocturnal assemblage each moment spread and
widened; there was the hum and stir of many thousands.
Suddenly in the distance the sound of martial music: and
instantly, quick as the lightning and far more wild, each
person present brandished a flaming torch, amid a chorus of
cheers, that, renewed and resounding, floated far away over
the broad bosom of the dusk wilderness.

The music and the banners denoted the arrival of the leaders
of the people. They mounted the craggy ascent that led to the
summit of the Druid's Altar, and there, surrounded by his
companions, amid the enthusiastic shouts of the multitude,
Walter Gerard came forth to address a TORCH-LIGHT MEETING.

His tall form seemed colossal in the uncertain and flickering
light, his rich and powerful voice reached almost to the
utmost limit of his vast audience, now still with expectation
and silent with excitement. Their fixed and eager glance, the
mouth compressed with fierce resolution or distended by novel
sympathy, as they listened to the exposition of their wrongs,
and the vindication of the sacred rights of labour--the shouts
and waving of the torches as some bright or bold phrase
touched them to the quick--the cause, the hour, the scene--all
combined to render the assemblage in a high degree exciting.

"I wonder if Warner will speak to-night," said Dandy Mick to
Devilsdust.

"He can't pitch it in like Gerard," replied his companion.

"But he is a trump in the tender," said the Dandy. "The
Handlooms looks to him as their man, and that's a powerful
section."

"If you come to the depth of a question, there's nothing like
Stephen Morley," said Devilsdust. "'Twould take six clergymen
any day to settle him. He knows the principles of society by
heart. But Gerard gets hold of the passions."

"And that's the way to do the trick," said Dandy Mick. "I
wish he would say march, and no mistake."

"There is a great deal to do before saying that," said
Devilsdust. "We must have discussion, because when it comes
to reasoning, the oligarchs have not got a leg to stand on;
and we must stop the consumption of exciseable articles, and
when they have no tin to pay the bayonets and their b--y
police, they are dished."

"You have a long head, Dusty," said Mick.

"Why I have been thinking of it ever since I knew two and two
made four," said his friend. "I was not ten years old when I
said to myself--It's a pretty go this, that I should be
toiling in a shoddy-hole to pay the taxes for a gentleman what
drinks his port wine and stretches his legs on a Turkey
carpet. Hear, hear," he suddenly exclaimed, as Gerard threw
off a stinging sentence. "Ah! that's the man for the people.
You will see, Mick, whatever happens, Gerard is the man who
will always lead."

Gerard had ceased amid enthusiastic plaudits, and Warner--that
hand-loom weaver whom the reader may recollect, and who had
since become a popular leader and one of the principal
followers of Gerard--had also addressed the multitude. They
had cheered and shouted, and voted resolutions, and the
business of the night was over. Now they were enjoined to
disperse in order and depart in peace. The band sounded a
triumphant retreat; the leaders had descended from the Druid's
Altar; the multitude were melting away, bearing back to the
town their high resolves and panting thoughts, and echoing in
many quarters the suggestive appeals of those who had
addressed them. Dandy Mick and Devilsdust departed together;
the business of their night had not yet commenced, and it was
an important one.

They took their way to that suburb whither Gerard and Morley
repaired the evening of their return from Marney Abbey; but it
was not on this occasion to pay a visit to Chaffing Jack and
his brilliant saloon. Winding through many obscure lanes,
Mick and his friend at length turned into a passage which
ended in a square court of a not inconsiderable size, and
which was surrounded by high buildings that had the appearance
of warehouses. Entering one of these, and taking up a dim
lamp that was placed on the stone of an empty hearth,
Devilsdust led his friend through several unoccupied and
unfurnished rooms, until he came to one in which there were
some signs of occupation.

"Now, Mick," said he, in a very earnest, almost solemn tone,
"are you firm?"

"All right, my hearty," replied his friend, though not without
some affectation of ease.

"There is a good deal to go through," said Devilsdust. "It
tries a man."

"You don't mean that?"

"But if you are firm, all's right. Now I must leave you."

"No, no, Dusty," said Mick.

"I must go," said Devilsdust; "and you must rest here till you
are sent for. Now mind--whatever is bid you, obey; and
whatever you see, be quiet. There," and Devilsdust taking a
flask out of his pocket, held it forth to his friend, "give a
good pull, man, I can't leave it you, for though your heart
must be warm, your head must be cool," and so saying he
vanished.

Notwithstanding the animating draught, the heart of Mick
Radley trembled. There are some moments when the nervous
system defies even brandy. Mick was on the eve of a great and
solemn incident, round which for years his imagination had
gathered and brooded. Often in that imagination he had
conceived the scene, and successfully confronted its perils or
its trials. Often had the occasion been the drama of many a
triumphant reverie, but the stern presence of reality had
dispelled all his fancy and all his courage. He recalled the
warning of Julia, who had often dissuaded him from the
impending step; that warning received with so much scorn and
treated with so much levity. He began to think that women
were always right; that Devilsdust was after all a dangerous
counsellor; he even meditated over the possibility of a
retreat. He looked around him: the glimmering lamp scarcely
indicated the outline of the obscure chamber. It was lofty,
nor in the obscurity was it possible for the eye to reach the
ceiling, which several huge beams seemed to cross
transversally, looming in the darkness. There was apparently
no windows, and the door by which they had entered was not
easily to be recognised. Mick had just taken up the lamp and
was surveying his position, when a slight noise startled him,
and looking round he beheld at some little distance two forms
which he hoped were human.

Enveloped in dark cloaks and wearing black masks, a conical
cap of the same colour adding to their considerable height,
each held a torch. They stood in silence--two awful sentries.

Their appearance appalled, their stillness terrified, Mick: he
remained with his mouth open and the lamp in his extended arm.
At length, unable any longer to sustain the solemn mystery,
and plucking up his natural audacity, he exclaimed, "I say.
what do you want?"

All was silent.

"Come, come," said Mick much alarmed; "none of this sort of
thing. I say, you must speak though."

The figures advanced: they stuck their torches in a niche that
was by; and then they placed each of them a hand on the
shoulder of Mick.

"No, no; none of that," said Mick, trying to disembarrass
himself.

But, notwithstanding this fresh appeal, one of the silent
masks pinioned his arms; and in a moment the eyes of the
helpless friend of Devilsdust were bandaged.

Conducted by these guides, it seemed to Mick that he was
traversing interminable rooms, or rather galleries, for once
stretching out his arm, while one of his supporters had
momentarily quitted him to open some gate or door, Mick
touched a wall. At length one of the masks spoke, and said,
"In five minutes you will be in the presence of the SEVEN--
prepare."

At this moment rose the sound of distant voices singing in
concert, and gradually increasing in volume as Mick and the
masks advanced. One of these attendants now notifying to
their charge that he must kneel down, Mick found he rested on
a cushion, while at the same time his arms still pinioned, he
seemed to be left alone.

The voices became louder and louder; Mick could distinguish
the words and burthen of the hymn; he was sensible that many
persons were entering the apartment; he could distinguish the
measured tread of some solemn procession. Round the chamber,
more than once, they moved with slow and awful step. Suddenly
that movement ceased; there was a pause of a few minutes; at
length a voice spoke. "I denounce John Briars."

"Why?" said another.

"He offers to take nothing but piece-work; the man who does
piece-work is guilty of less defensible conduct than a
drunkard. The worst passions of our nature are enlisted in
support of piece-work. Avarice, meanness, cunning, hypocrisy,
all excite and feed upon the miserable votary who works by the
task and not by the hour. A man who earns by piece-work forty
shillings per week, the usual wages for day-work being twenty,
robs his fellows of a week's employment; therefore I denounce
John Briars."

"Let it go forth," said the other voice; "John Briars is
denounced. If he receive another week's wages by the piece,
he shall not have the option of working the week after for
time. No.87, see to John Briars."

"I denounce Claughton and Hicks," said another voice.

"Why?"

"They have removed Gregory Ray from being a superintendent,
because he belonged to this lodge."

"Brethren, is it your pleasure that there shall be a turn out
for ten days at Claughton and Hicks?"

"It is our pleasure," cried several voices.

"No.34, give orders to-morrow that the works at Claughton and
Hicks stop till further orders."

"Brethren," said another voice, "I propose the expulsion from
this Union, of any member who shall be known to boast of his
superior ability, as to either the quantity or quality of work
he can do, either in public or private company. Is it your
pleasure?"

"It is our pleasure."

"Brethren," said a voice that seemed a presiding one, "before
we proceed to the receipt of the revenue from the different
districts of this lodge, there is I am informed a stranger
present, who prays to be admitted into our fraternity. Are
all robed in the mystic robe? Are all masked in the secret
mask?"

"All

"Then let us pray!" And thereupon after a movement which
intimated that all present were kneeling, the presiding voice
offered up an extemporary prayer of great power and even
eloquence. This was succeeded by the Hymn of Labour, and at
its conclusion the arms of the neophyte were unpinioned, and
then his eyes were unbandaged.

Mick found himself in a lofty and spacious room lighted with
many tapers. Its walls were hung with black cloth; at a table
covered with the same material, were seated seven persons in
surplices and masked, the president on a loftier seat; above
which on a pedestal was a skeleton complete. On each side of
the skeleton was a man robed and masked, holding a drawn
sword; and on each of Mick was a man in the same garb holding
a battle-axe. On the table was the sacred volume open, and at
a distance, ranged in order on each side of the room, was a
row of persons in white robes and white masks, and holding
torches.

"Michael Radley," said the President. "Do you voluntarily
swear in the presence of Almighty God and before these
witnesses, that you will execute with zeal and alacrity, as
far as in you lies, every task and injunction that the
majority of your brethren testified by the mandate of this
grand committee, shall impose upon you, in futherance of our
common welfare, of which they are the sole judges; such as the
chastisement of Nobs, the assassination of oppressive and
tyrannical masters, or the demolition of all mills, works and
shops that shall be deemed by us incorrigible. Do you swear
this in the presence of Almighty God and before these
witnesses?"

"I do swear it," replied a tremulous voice.

"Then rise and kiss that book."

Mick slowly rose from his kneeling position, advanced with a
trembling step, and bending, embraced with reverence the open
volume.

Immediately every one unmasked; Devilsdust came forward, and
taking Mick by the hand led him to the President, who received
him pronouncing some mystic rhymes. He was covered with a
robe and presented with a torch, and then ranged in order with
his companions. Thus terminated the initiation of Dandy Mick
into a TRADES UNION.




Book 4 Chapter 5



"His lordship has not yet rung his bell, gentlemen."

It was the valet of Lord Milford that spoke, addressing from
the door of a house in Belgrave Square, about noon, a
deputation from the National Convention, consisting of two of
its delegates, who waited on the young viscount in common with
other members of the legislature, in order to call his
particular attention to the National Petition which the
Convention had prepared, and which in the course of the
session was to be presented by one of the members for
Birmingham.

"I fear we are too early for these fine birds," said one
delegate to the other. "Who is next on our list?"

"No.27, --- Street, close by; Mr THOROUGH BASE: he ought to be
with the people, for his father was only a fiddler; but I
understand he is quite an aristocrat and has married a widow
of quality."

"Well, knock."

Mr Thorough Base was not at home; had received the card of the
delegates apprising him of the honour of their intended visit,
but had made up his mind on the subject.

No.18 in the same street received them more courteously. Here
resided Mr KREMLIN, who after listening with patience if not
with interest, to their statement, apprised them that forms of
government were of no consequence, and domestic policy of no
interest; that there was only one subject which should engage
the attention of public men, because everything depended on
it,--that was our external system; and that the only specific
for a revival of trade and the contentment of the people, was
a general settlement of the boundary questions. Finally, Mr
Kremlin urged upon the National Convention to recast their
petition with this view, assuring them that on foreign policy
they would have the public with them.

The deputation in reply might have referred as an evidence of
the general interest excited by questions of foreign policy,
to the impossibility even of a leader making a house on one;
and to the fact that there are not three men in the House of
Commons who even pretend to have any acquaintance with the
external circumstances of the country; they might have added,
that even in such an assembly Mr Kremlin himself was
distinguished for ignorance, for he had only one idea,--and
that was wrong.

Their next visit was to WRIGGLE, a member for a metropolitan
district, a disciple of Progress, who went with the times, but
who took particular good care to ascertain their complexion;
and whose movements if expedient could partake of a regressive
character. As the Charter might some day turn up trumps as
well as so many other unexpected cards and colours, Wriggle
gave his adhesion to it, but of course only provisionally;
provided that is to say, he might vote against it at present.
But he saw no harm in it--not he, and should be prepared to
support it when circumstances, that is to say the temper of
the times, would permit him. More could hardly be expected
from a gentleman in the delicate position in which Wriggle
found himself at this moment, for he had solicited a baronetcy
of the whigs, and had secretly pledged himself to Taper to
vote against them on the impending Jamaica division.

BOMBASTES RIP snubbed them, which was hard, for he had been
one of themselves, had written confidential letters in 1831 to
the secretary of the Treasury, and "provided his expenses were
paid," offered to come up from the manufacturing town he now
represented, at the head of a hundred thousand men, and burn
down Apsley House. But now Bombastes Rip talked of the great
middle class; of public order and public credit. He would
have said more to them, but had an appointment in the city,
being a most active member of the committee for raising a
statue to the Duke of Wellington.

FLOATWELL received them in the politest manner, though he did
not agree with them. What he did agree with was difficult to
say. Clever, brisk, and bustling, with an university
reputation and without patrimony, Floatwell shrunk from the
toils of a profession, and in the hurry skurry of reform found
himself to his astonishment a parliament man. There he had
remained, but why, the Fates alone knew. The fun of such a
thing must have evaporated with the novelty. Floatwell had
entered public life in complete ignorance of every subject
which could possibly engage the attention of a public man. He
knew nothing of history, national or constitutional law, had
indeed none but puerile acquirements, and had seen nothing of
life. Assiduous at committees he gained those superficial
habits of business which are competent to the conduct of
ordinary affairs, and picked up in time some of the slang of
economical questions. Floatwell began at once with a little
success, and he kept his little success; nobody envied him it;
he hoarded his sixpences without exciting any evil emulation.
He was one of those characters who above all things shrink
from isolation, and who imagine they are getting on if they
are keeping company with some who stick like themselves. He
was always an idolater of some great personage who was on the
shelf, and who he was convinced, because the great personage
assured him of it after dinner, would sooner or later turn out
the man. At present, Floatwell swore by Lord Dunderhead; and
the game of this little coterie, who dined together and
thought they were a party, was to be courteous to the
Convention.

After the endurance of an almost interminable lecture on the
currency from Mr KITE, who would pledge himself to the charter
if the charter would pledge itself to one-pound notes, the two
delegates had arrived in Piccadilly, and the next member upon
their list was Lord Valentine.

"It is two o'clock," said one of the delegates, "I think we
may venture;" so they knocked at the portal of the court yard,
and found they were awaited.

A private staircase led to the suite of rooms of Lord
Valentine, who lived in the family mansion. The delegates
were ushered through an ante-chamber into a saloon which
opened into a very fanciful conservatory, where amid tall
tropical plants played a fountain. The saloon was hung with
blue satin, and adorned with brilliant mirrors: its coved
ceiling was richly painted, and its furniture became the rest
of its decorations. On one sofa were a number of portfolios,
some open, full of drawings of costumes; a table of pietra
dura was covered with richly bound volumes that appeared to
have been recently referred to; several ancient swords of
extreme beauty were lying on a couch; in a corner of the room
was a figure in complete armour, black and gold richly inlaid,
and grasping in its gauntlet the ancient standard of England.

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