Sybil by Benjamin Disraeli (snow like ashes series .txt) 📖

parochial mind. Dietaries, bastardy, gaol regulations, game laws, were amply discussed; and Lord Marney wound up with a declaration of the means by which the country might be saved, and which seemed principally to consist of high prices and low church.

"If the sovereign could only know her best friends," said Sir Vavasour, with a sigh.

Lord Marney seemed to get uneasy.

"And avoid the fatal mistakes of her predecessor," continued the baronet.

"Charles, another glass of claret," said the earl.

"She might yet rally round the throne a body of men"--

"Then we will go to the ladies," said the earl, abruptly disturbing his guest.


Book 2 Chapter 2


There was music as they re-entered the drawing-room. Sir Vavasour attached himself to Egremont.

"It is a great pleasure for me to see you again, Mr Egremont;" said the worthy baronet. "Your father was my earliest and kindest friend. I remember you at Firebrace, a very little boy. Happy to see you again, Sir, in so eminent a position; a legislator--one of our legislators. It gave me a sincere satisfaction to observe your return."

"You are very kind, Sir Vavasour."

"But it is a responsible position," continued the baronet. "Think you they'll stand? A majority. I suppose, they have; but, I conclude, in time; Sir Robert will have it in time? We must not be in a hurry; 'the more haste'--you know the rest. The country is decidedly conservative. All that we want now is a strong government, that will put all things to rights. If the poor king had lived--"

"He would have sent these men to the right-abouts;" said Egremont, a young politician, proud of his secret intelligence.

"Ah! the poor king!" said Sir Vavasour, shaking his head.

"He was entirely with us," said Egremont.

"Poor man" said Sir Vavasour.

"You think it was too late, then?" said his companion.

"You are a young man entering political life," said the baronet, taking Egremont kindly by the arm, and leading him to a sofa; "everything depends on the first step. You have a great opportunity. Nothing can be done by a mere individual. The most powerful body in this country wants a champion."

"But you can depend on Peel?" said Egremont.

"He is one of us: we ought to be able to depend on him. But I have spoken to him for an hour, and could get nothing out of him."

"He is cautious; but depend upon it, he will stand or fall by the land."

"I am not thinking of the land," said Sir Vavasour; "of something much more important; with all the influence of the land, and a great deal more besides; of an order of men who are ready to rally round the throne, and are, indeed, if justice were done to them, its natural and hereditary champions (Egremont looked perplexity); I am speaking," added Sir Vavasour, in a solemn voice, "I am speaking of the baronets."

"The baronets! And what do they want?"

"Their rights; their long withheld rights. The poor king was with us. He has frequently expressed to me and other deputies, his determination to do us justice; but he was not a strong-minded man," said Sir Vavasour, with a sigh; "and in these revolutionary and levelling times, he had a hard task perhaps. And the peers, who are our brethren, they were, I fear, against us. But in spite of the ministers, and in spite of the peers, had the poor king lived, we should at least have had the badge," added Sir Vavasour mournfully.

"The badge!"

"It would have satisfied Sir Grosvenor le Draughte," said Sir Vavasour; "and he had a strong party with him; he was for compromise, but d-- him, his father was only an accoucheur."

"And you wanted more?" inquired Egremont, with a demure look.

"All, or nothing," said Sir Vavasour; "principle is ever my motto--no expediency. I made a speech to the order at the Clarendon; there were four hundred of us; the feeling was very strong."

"A powerful party," said Egremont.

"And a military order, sir, if properly understood. What could stand against us? The Reform Bill could never have passed if the baronets had been organized."

"I have no doubt you could bring us in now," said Egremont.

"That is exactly what I told Sir Robert. I want him to be brought in by his own order. It would be a grand thing."

"There is nothing like esprit de corps," said Egremont.

"And such a body!" exclaimed Sir Vavasour, with animation. "Picture us for a moment, to yourself going down in procession to Westminster for example to hold a chapter. Five or six hundred baronets in dark green costume,--the appropriate dress of equites aurati; each not only with his badge, but with his collar of S.S.; belted and scarfed; his star glittering; his pennon flying; his hat white with a plume of white feathers; of course the sword and the gilt spurs. In our hand, the thumb ring and signet not forgotten, we hold our coronet of two balls!"

Egremont stared with irrepressible astonishment at the excited being, who unconsciously pressed his companion's arm, as he drew this rapid sketch of the glories so unconstitutionally withheld from him.

"A magnificent spectacle!" said Egremont.

"Evidently the body destined to save this country," eagerly continued Sir Vavasour. "Blending all sympathies: the crown of which they are the peculiar champions; the nobles of whom they are the popular branch; the people who recognize in them their natural leaders. But the picture is not complete. We should be accompanied by an equal number of gallant knights, our elder sons, who, the moment they come of age, have the right to claim knighthood of their sovereign, while their mothers and wives, no longer degraded to the nomenclature of a sheriff's lady, but resuming their legal or analogical dignities, and styled the 'honourable baronetess,' with her coronet and robe, or the 'honourable knightess,' with her golden collar of S.S., and chaplet or cap of dignity, may either accompany the procession, or ranged in galleries in a becoming situation, rain influence from above."

"I am all for their going in the procession," said Egremont.

"The point is not so clear," said Sir Vavasour solemnly; "and indeed, although we have been firm in defining our rightful claims in our petitions, as for 'honorary epithets, secondary titles, personal decorations, and augmented heraldic bearings.' I am not clear if the government evinced a disposition for a liberal settlement of the question, I would not urge a too stringent adherence to every point. For instance, I am prepared myself, great as would be the sacrifice, even to renounce the claim of secondary titles for our eldest sons, if for instance they would secure us our coronet."

"Fie, fie, Sir Vavasour," said Egremont very seriously, "remember principle: no expediency, no compromise."

"You are right," said the baronet, colouring a little; "and do you know, Mr Egremont, you are the only individual I have yet met out of the Order, who has taken a sensible view of this great question, which, after all, is the question of the day."


Book 2 Chapter 3


The situation of the rural town of Marney was one of the most delightful easily to be imagined. In a spreading dale, contiguous to the margin of a clear and lively stream, surrounded by meadows and gardens, and backed by lofty hills, undulating and richly wooded, the traveller on the opposite heights of the dale would often stop to admire the merry prospect, that recalled to him the traditional epithet of his country.

Beautiful illusion! For behind that laughing landscape, penury and disease fed upon the vitals of a miserable population!

The contrast between the interior of the town and its external aspect, was as striking as it was full of pain. With the exception of the dull high street, which had the usual characteristics of a small agricultural market town, some sombre mansions, a dingy inn, and a petty bourse, Marney mainly consisted of a variety of narrow and crowded lanes formed by cottages built of rubble, or unhewn stones without cement, and from age, or badness of the material, looking as if they could scarcely hold together. The gaping chinks admitted every blast; the leaning chimneys had lost half their original height; the rotten rafters were evidently misplaced; while in many instances the thatch, yawning in some parts to admit the wind and wet, and in all utterly unfit for its original purpose of giving protection from the weather, looked more like the top of a dunghill than a cottage. Before the doors of these dwellings, and often surrounding them, ran open drains full of animal and vegetable refuse, decomposing into disease, or sometimes in their imperfect course filling foul pits or spreading into stagnant pools, while a concentrated solution of every species of dissolving filth was allowed to soak through and thoroughly impregnate the walls and ground adjoining.

These wretched tenements seldom consisted of more than two rooms, in one of which the whole family, however numerous, were obliged to sleep, without distinction of age, or sex, or suffering. With the water streaming down the walls, the light distinguished through the roof, with no hearth even in winter, the virtuous mother in the sacred pangs of childbirth, gives forth another victim to our thoughtless civilization; surrounded by three generations whose inevitable presence is more painful than her sufferings in that hour of travail; while the father of her coming child, in another corner of the sordid chamber, lies stricken by that typhus which his contaminating dwelling has breathed into his veins, and for whose next prey is perhaps destined, his new-born child. These swarming walls had neither windows nor doors sufficient to keep out the weather, or admit the sun or supply the means of ventilation; the humid and putrid roof of thatch exhaling malaria like all other decaying vegetable matter. The dwelling rooms were neither boarded nor paved; and whether it were that some were situate in low and damp places, occasionally flooded by the river, and usually much below the level of the road; or that the springs, as was often the case, would burst through the mud floor; the ground was at no time better than so much clay, while sometimes you might see little channels cut from the centre under the doorways to carry off the water, the door itself removed from its hinges: a resting place for infancy in its deluged home. These hovels were in many instances not provided with the commonest conveniences of the rudest police; contiguous to every door might be observed the dung-heap on which every kind of filth was accumulated, for the purpose of being disposed of for manure, so that, when the poor man opened his narrow habitation in the hope of refreshing it with the breeze of summer, he was met with a mixture of gases from reeking dunghills.

This town of Marney was a metropolis of agricultural labour, for the proprietors of the neighbourhood having for the last half century acted on the system of destroying the cottages on their estates, in order to become exempted from the maintenance of the population, the expelled people had flocked to Marney, where, during the war, a manufactory had afforded them some relief, though its wheels had long ceased to disturb the waters of the Mar.

Deprived of this resource, they had again gradually spread themselves over that land which had as it were rejected them; and obtained from its churlish breast a niggardly subsistence. Their re-entrance into the surrounding parishes was viewed with great suspicion; their renewed settlement opposed by