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

are at the worst, they always say--"

"But you always say they cannot mend, Mick," said Julia interrupting her.

"Why in a sense, Julia, in a certain sense, you are right; but there are two senses to everything, my girl," and Mick began singing, and then executed a hornpipe to the gratification of Julia and her guests.

"'Tis genteel," said Mick, receiving their approbation. "You remember it at the Circus?"

"I wonder when we shall have the Circus again?" said Caroline.

"Not with the present rate of wages," said Devilsdust.

"It's very hard," said Caroline, "that the Middle Class are always dropping our wages. One really has no amusements now. How I do miss the Temple!"

"We'll have the Temple open again before long," said the Dandy.

"That will be sweet," exclaimed Caroline. "I often dream of that foreign nobleman who used to sing, 'Oh, no, we never!'"

"Well, I cannot make out what puts you in such spirits, Mick," said Julia. "You told me only this morning that the thing was up, and that we should soon be slaves for life; working sixteen hours a day for no wages, and living on oatmeal porridge and potatoes, served out by the millocrats like a regular Bastile."

"But, as Madam Carey says, when things are at the worst--"

"Oh! I did say it," said the widow, "surely, because you see, at my years, I have seen so many ups and downs, though I always say--"

"Come, Dusty," said Julia, "you are more silent than ever. You won't take a dish I know: but tell us the news, for I am sure you have something to say."

"I should think we had," said Dusty.

Here all the girls began talking at the same time, and without waiting for the intelligence, favouring one another with their guesses of its import.

"I am sure it's Shuffle and Screw going to work half time," said Harriet. "I always said so."

"It's something to put down the people," said Julia: "I suppose the Nobs have met, and are going to drop wages again."

"I think Dusty is going to be married," said Caroline.

"Not at this rate of wages I should hope," said Mrs Carey, getting in a word.

"I should think not," said Devilsdust. "You are a sensible woman, Mrs Carey. And I don't know exactly what you mean, Miss Caroline," he added, a little confused. For Devilsdust was a silent admirer of Caroline, and had been known to say to Mick, who told Julia, who told her friend, that if he ever found time to think of such things, that was the sort of girl he should like to make the partner of his life.

"But Dusty," said Julia, "now what is it?"

"Why, I thought you all knew," said Mick.

"Now, now," said Julia, "I hate suspense. I like news to go round like a fly-wheel."

"Well," said Devilsdust, dryly, "this is Saturday, young women, and Mrs Carey too, you will not deny that."

"I should think not," said Mrs Carey, "by the token I kept a stall for thirty year in our market, and never gave it up till this summer, which makes me always think that, though I have seen many ups and downs, this--"

"Well, what has Saturday to do with us?" said Caroline; "for neither Dandy Mick nor you can take us to the Temple, or any other genteel place, since they are all shut from the Corn Laws, or some other cause or other."

"I believe it's the machines more than the Corn Laws that have shut up the Temple," said Harriet. "Machines, indeed! Fancy preferring a piece of iron or wood to your own flesh and blood. And they call that Christianlike!"

"It is Saturday," said Julia, "sure enough; and if I don't lie in bed to-morrow till sunset, may I get a bate ticket for every day for a week to come."

"Well, go it my hearty," said Mick to Devilsdust. "It is Saturday, that they have all agreed."

"And to-morrow is Sunday," said Devilsdust solemnly. "And the next day is the blackest day in all the week," said Julia. "When I hear the factory bell on Monday morning, I feel just the same as I did when I crossed with my uncle from Liverpool to Seaton to eat shrimps. Wasn't I sick coming home, that's all!"

"You won't hear that bell sound next Monday," said Devilsdust solemnly.

"You don't mean that?" said Julia.

"Why, what's the matter?" said Caroline. "Is the Queen dead?"

"No bell on Monday morning," said Mrs Carey, incredulously.

"Not a single ring if all the Capitalists in Mowbray were to pull together at the same rope," said Devilsdust.

"What can it be?" said Julia. "Come, Mick; Dusty is always so long telling us anything."

"Why we are going to have the devil's own strike," said Mick unable any longer to contain himself and dancing with glee.

"A strike!" said Julia.

"I hope they will destroy the machines," said Harriet.

"And open the Temple," said Caroline, "or else it will be very dull."

"I have seen a many strikes," said the widow, "but as Chaffing Jack was saying to me the other day--"

"Chaffing Jack be hanged," said Mick. "Such a slow coach won't do in these high-pressure times. We are going to do the trick and no mistake. There shan't be a capitalist in England who can get a day's work out of us, even if he makes the operatives his junior partners."

"I never heard of such things," said Mrs Carey in amazement.

"It's all booked, though," said Devilsdust. "We'll clean out the Savings' Banks; the Benefits and Burials will shell out. I am treasurer of the Ancient Shepherds, and we passed a resolution yesterday unanimously, that we would devote all our funds to the sustenance of Labour in this its last and triumphant struggle against Capital."

"Lor!" said Caroline, "I think it will be very jolly."

"As long as you can give us money, I don't care, for my part, how long we stick out," said Julia.

"Well," said Mrs Carey, "I didn't think there was so much spirit in the place. As Chaffing Jack was saying the other day--"

"There is no spirit in the place," said Devilsdust, "but we mean to infuse some. Some of our friends are going to pay you a visit to-morrow."

"And who may they be?" said Caroline.

"To-morrow is Sunday," said Devilsdust, "and the miners mean to say their prayers in Mowbray Church."

"Well, that will be a shindy!" said Caroline.

"It's a true bill, though," said Mick. "This time to-morrow you will have ten thousand of them in this town, and if every mill and work in it and ten mile round is not stopped, my name is not MICK RADLEY!"


Book 6 Chapter 9


It was Monday morning. Hatton, enveloped in his chamber robe and wearing his velvet cap, was lounging in the best room of the principal commercial inn of Mowbray, over a breakfast table covered with all the delicacies of which a northern matin meal may justly boast. There were pies of spiced meat and trout fresh from the stream, hams that Westphalia never equalled, pyramids of bread of every form and flavour adapted to the surrounding fruits, some conserved with curious art, and some just gathered from the bed or from the tree.

"It's very odd," said Hatton to his companion Morley, "you can't get coffee anywhere."

Morley who had supposed that coffee was about the commonest article of consumption in Mowbray, looked a little surprised; but at this moment Hatton's servant entered with a mysterious yet somewhat triumphant air, and ushering in a travelling biggin of their own fuming like one of the springs of Geyser.

"Now try that," said Hatton to Morley, as the servant poured him out a cup; "you won't find that so bad."

"Does the town continue pretty quiet?" enquired Morley of the servant as he was leaving the room.

"Quite quiet I believe, Sir; but a great many people in the streets. All the mills are stopped."

"Well, this is a strange business," said Hatton when they were once more alone. "You had no idea of it when I met you on Saturday?"

"None; on the contrary, I felt convinced that there were no elements of general disturbance in this district. I thought from the first that the movement would be confined to Lancashire and would easily be arrested; but the feebleness of the government, the want of decision, perhaps the want of means, have permitted a flame to spread the extinction of which will not soon be witnessed."

"Do you mean that?"

"Whenever the mining population is disturbed the disorder is obstinate. On the whole they endure less physical suffering than most of the working classes, their wages being considerable; and they are so brutalized that they are more difficult to operate on than our reading and thinking population of the factories. But when they do stir there is always violence and a determined course. When I heard of their insurrection on Saturday I was prepared for great disturbances in their district, but that they should suddenly resolve to invade another country as it were, the seat of another class of labour, and where the hardships however severe are not of their own kind, is to me amazing, and convinces me that there is some political head behind the scenes, and that this move, however unintentional on the part of the miners themselves, is part of some comprehensive scheme which, by widening the scene of action and combining several counties and classes of labour in the broil, must inevitably embarrass and perhaps paralyse the Government."

"There is a good deal in what you say," said Hatton, taking a strawberry with a rather absent air, and then he added, "You remember a conversation we once had, the eve of my departure from Mowbray in '39?"

"I do," said Morley reddening.

"The miners were not so ready then," said Hatton.

"They were not," said Morley speaking with some confusion.

"Well they are here now," said Hatton.

"They are," said Morley thoughtfully, but more collected.

"You saw them enter yesterday?" said Hatton. "I was sorry I missed it, but I was taking a walk with the Gerards up Dale to see the cottage where they once lived, and which they used to talk of so much! Was it a strong body?"

"I should say about two thousand men, and as far as bludgeons and iron staves go, armed."

"A formidable force with no military to encounter them."

"Irresistible, especially with a favourable population."

"You think the people were not grieved to see them?"

"Certainly. Left alone they might have remained quiet; but they only wanted the spark. We have a number of young men here who have for a long time been murmuring against our inaction and what they call want of spirit. The Lancashire strike set them all agog; and had any popular leader, Gerard for example or Warner, resolved to move, they were ready."

"The times are critical," said Hatton wheeling his arm-chair from the table and resting his feet on the empty fire-place. "Lord de Mowbray had no idea of all this. I was with him on my way here, and found him quite tranquil. I suppose the invasion of yesterday has opened his eyes a little."

"What can he do?" said Morley. "It is useless to apply to the Government. They