"Sybil, or the Two Nations" was published in 1845, a year
after "Coningsby," and in it the novelist "considered the
condition of the people." The author himself, writing in 1870
of this novel, said: "At that time the Chartist agitation was
still fresh in the public memory, and its repetition was far
from improbable. I had visited and observed with care all the
localities introduced, and as an accurate and never
exaggerated picture of a remarkable period in our domestic
history, and of a popular organisation which in its extent and
completeness has perhaps never been equalled, the pages of
"Sybil" may, I venture to believe, be consulted with
confidence." "Sybil," indeed, is not only an extremely
interesting novel; but as a study of social life in England it
is of very definite historical value.
_I.--Hard Times for the Poor_
It was Derby Day, 1837. Charles Egremont was in the ring at Epsom with a
band of young patricians. Groups surrounded the betting post, and the
odds were shouted lustily by a host of horsemen. Egremont had backed
Caravan to win, and Caravan lost by half a length. Charles Egremont was
the younger brother of the Earl of Marney; he had received £15,000 on
the death of his father, and had spent it. Disappointed in love at the
age of twenty-four, Egremont left England, to return after eighteen
months' absence a much wiser man. He was now conscious that he wanted an
object, and, musing over action, was ignorant how to act.
The morning after the Derby, Egremont, breakfasting with his mother,
learnt that King William IV. was dying, and that a dissolution of
parliament was at hand. Lady Marney was a great stateswoman, a leader in
fashionable politics.
"Charles," said Lady Marney, "you must stand for the old borough, for
Marbury. No doubt the contest will be very expensive, but it will be a
happy day for me to see you in parliament, and Marney will, of course,
supply the funds. I shall write to him, and perhaps you will do so
yourself."
The election took place, and Egremont was returned. Then he paid a visit
to his brother at Marney Abbey, and an old estrangement between the two
was ended.
Marney Abbey was as remarkable for its comfort and pleasantness of
accommodation as for its ancient state and splendour. It had been a
religious house. The founder of the Marney family, a confidential
domestic of one of the favourites of Henry VIII., had contrived by
unscrupulous zeal to obtain the grant of the abbey lands, and in the
reign of Elizabeth came a peerage.
The present Lord Marney upheld the workhouse, hated allotments and
infant schools, and declared the labourers on his estate to be happy and
contented with a wage of seven shillings a week.
The burning of hayricks on the Abbey Farm at the time of Egremont's
visit showed that the torch of the incendiary had been introduced and
that a beacon had been kindled in the agitated neighbourhood. For misery
lurked in the wretched tenements of the town of Marney, and fever was
rife. The miserable hovels of the people had neither windows nor doors,
and were unpaved, and looked as if they could scarcely hold together.
There were few districts in the kingdom where the rate of wages was more
depressed.
"What do you think of this fire?" said Egremont to a labourer at the
Abbey Farm.
"I think 'tis hard times for the poor, sir," was the reply, given with a
shake of the head.
_II.--The Old Tradition_
"Why was England not the same land as in the days of his light-hearted
youth?" Charles Egremont mused, as he wandered among the ruins of the
ancient abbey. "Why were these hard times for the poor?" Brooding over
these questions, he observed two men hard by in the old cloister garden,
one of lofty stature, nearer forty than fifty years of age, the other
younger and shorter, with a pale face redeemed from ugliness by its
intellectual brow. Egremont joined the strangers, and talked.
"Our queen reigns over two nations, between whom there is no intercourse
and no sympathy--the rich and the poor," said the younger stranger.
As he spoke, from the lady chapel rose the evening hymn to the Virgin in
tones of almost supernatural tenderness.
The melody ceased; and Egremont beheld a female form, a countenance
youthful, and of a beauty as rare as it was choice.
The two men joined the beautiful maiden; and the three quitted the abbey
grounds together without another word, and pursued their way to the
railway station.
"I have seen the tomb of the last abbot of Marney, and I marked your
name on the stone, my father," said the maiden. "You must regain our
lands for us, Stephen," she added to the younger man.
"I can't understand why you lost sight of those papers, Walter," said
Stephen Morley.
"You see, friend, they were never in my possession; they were not mine
when I saw them. They were my father's. He was a small yeoman,
well-to-do in the world, but always hankering after the old tradition
that the lands were ours. This Hatton got hold of him; he did his work
well, I have heard. It is twenty-five years since my father brought his
writ of right, and though baffled, he was not beaten. Then he died; his
affairs were in great confusion; he had mortgaged his land for his writ.
There were debts that could not be paid. I had no capital. I would not
sink to be a labourer. I had heard much of the high wages of this new
industry; I left the land."
"And the papers?"
"I never thought of them, or thought of them with disgust, as the cause
of my ruin. Of Hatton, I have not heard since my father's death. He had
quitted Mowbray, and none could give me tidings of him. When you came
and showed me in a book that the last abbot of Marney was a Walter
Gerard, the old feeling stirred again, and though I am but the
overlooker at Mr. Trafford's mill, I could not help telling you that my
fathers fought at Agincourt."
They approached the station, entered the train, and two hours later
arrived at Mowbray. Gerard and Morley left their companion at a convent
gate in the suburbs of the manufacturing town.
The two men made their way through the streets and entered a prominent
public house. Here they sought an interview with the landlord, and from
him got information of Hatton's brother.
"You have heard of a place called Hell-house Yard?" said the publican.
"Well, he lives there, and his name is Simon, and that's all I know
about him."
_III.--The Gulf Impassable_
When it came to the point, Lord Marney very much objected to paying
Egremont's election expenses, and proposed instead that he should
accompany him to Mowbray Castle, and marry Earl Mowbray's daughter, Lady
Joan Fitz-Warene.
Lord Mowbray was the grandson of a waiter, who had gone out to India a
gentleman's valet, and returned a nabob. Lord Mowbray's two daughters--
he had no sons--were great heiresses. Lady Joan was doctrinal; Lady Maud
inquisitive. Egremont fell in love with neither, and the visit was a
failure. Lord Marney declined to pay the election expenses.
The brothers parted in anger; and Egremont took up his abode in a
cottage in Mowedale, a few miles outside the town of Mowbray. He was
drawn to this by the knowledge that Walter Gerard and his daughter
Sybil, and their friend Stephen Morley, lived close by. Of Egremont's
rank these three were ignorant. Sybil had met him with Mr. St. Lys, the
good vicar of Mowbray, relieving the misery of a poor weaver's family in
the town, and at Mowedale he passed as Mr. Franklin, a journalist.
For some weeks Egremont enjoyed the peace of rural life, and the
intercourse with the Gerards ripened into friendship. When the time came
for parting, for Egremont had to take his seat in parliament, it was a
tender farewell on both sides.
Egremont, embarrassed by his deception, could not only speak vaguely of
their meeting again soon. The thought of parting from Sybil nearly
overwhelmed him.
When he met Gerard and Morley again it was in London, and disguise was
no longer possible. Gerard and Morley came as delegates to the Chartist
National Convention in 1839, and, deputed by their fellows to interview
Charles Egremont, M.P., came face to face with "Mr. Franklin."
The general misery in the country at that time was appalling. Weavers
and miners were starving, agricultural labourers were driven into the
new workhouses, and riots were of common occurrence. The Chartists
believed their proposals would improve matters, other working-class
leaders believed that a general stoppage of work would be more
effective.
Sybil, in London with her father, ardently supported the popular
movement. Meeting Egremont near Westminster Abbey on the very day after
Gerard and Morley had waited upon him, she allowed him to escort her
home. Then, for the first time, she learnt that her friend "Mr.
Franklin" was the brother of Lord Marney.
It was in vain Egremont urged that they might still be friends, that the
gulf between rich and poor was not impassable.
"Oh, sir," said Sybil haughtily, "I am one of those who believe the gulf
is impassable--yes, utterly impassable!"
_IV.--Plotting Against Lord De Mowbray_
Stephen Morley was the editor of the "Mowbray Phoenix," a teetotaler, a
vegetarian, a believer in moral force. The friend of Gerard, and in love
with Sybil, Stephen looked with no favour on Egremont. Although a
delegate to the Chartist Convention, Stephen had not forgotten the
claims of Gerard to landed estate, and had pursued his inquiries as to
the whereabouts of Hatton with some success.
First Stephen had journeyed to Woodgate, commonly known as Hell-house
Yard, a wild and savage place, the abode of a lawless race of men who
fashioned locks and instruments of iron. Here he had found Simon Hatton,
who knew nothing of his brother's residence.
By accident Stephen discovered that the man he sought lived in the
Temple. Baptist Hatton at that time was the most famous of heraldic
antiquaries. Not a pedigree in dispute, not a peerage in abeyance, but
it was submitted to his consideration. A solitary man was Baptist
Hatton, wealthy and absorbed in his pursuits. The meeting with Morley
excited him, and he turned over the matter anxiously in his mind as he
sat alone.
"The son of Walter Gerard, a Chartist delegate! The best blood in
England! Those infernal papers! They made my fortune; and yet the deed
has cost me many a pang. It seemed innoxious; the old man dead,
insolvent; myself starving; his son ignorant of all--to whom could they
be of use, for it required thousands to work them? And yet with all my
wealth and power what memory shall I leave? Not a relative in the world,
except a barbarian. Ah! had I a child like the beautiful daughter of
Gerard. I have seen her. He must be a fiend who could injure her. I am
that fiend. Let me see what can be done. What if I married her?"
But Hatton did not offer marriage to Sybil. He did much to make her stay
in London pleasant; but there was something about the maiden that awed
while it fascinated him. A Catholic himself, Hatton was not surprised to
hear from Gerard of Sybil's wish to enter a convent. "And to my mind she
is right. My daughter cannot look to marriage; no man that she could
marry would be worthy of her."
This did not deter Hatton from considering how the papers relating to
Gerard's lost estates could be recovered.
The first move was an action entered against Lord de Mowbray, and this
brought that distinguished peer to Mr. Hatton's chambers in the Temple,
for Hatton was at that time advising Lord de Mowbray in the matter of
reviving an ancient barony. Hatton easily quieted his client.
"Mr. Walter Gerard can do nothing without the deed of '77. Your
documents you say are all secure?"
"They are at this moment in the muniment room of the tower of Mowbray
Castle."
"Keep them; this action is a feint."
As for Mr. Baptist Hatton, the next time we see him a few months had
elapsed. He is at the principal hotel in Mowbray in consultation with
Stephen Morley.
A great labour demonstration had taken place the previous night on the
moors outside the town, and Gerard had been acclaimed as a popular hero.
"Documents are in existence," said Hatton, "which prove the title of
Walter Gerard to the proprietorship of this great district. Two hundred
thousand human beings yesterday acknowledged the supremacy of Gerard.
Suppose they had known that within the walls of Mowbray Castle were
contained the proofs that Walter Gerard was the lawful possessor of the
lands on which they live? Moral force is a fine thing, friend Morley,
but the public spirit is inflamed here. You are a leader of the people.
Let us have another meeting on the Moor! you can put your fingers in a
trice on the man who will do our work. Mowbray Castle in their
possession, a certain iron chest, painted blue, and blazoned with the
shield of Valence, would be delivered to you. You shall have £10,000
down and I will take you back to London besides."
"The effort would fail," said Stephen Morley. "Wages must drop still
more, and the discontent here be deeper. But I will keep the secret; I
will treasure it up."
_V.--Liberty--At a Price_
While Mr. Baptist Hatton and Stephen Morley discussed the possible
recovery of the papers, much happened in London. Gerard became a marked
man in the Chartist Convention, a member of a small but resolute
committee. Egremont, now deeply in love with Sybil, declared his suit.
"From the first moment I beheld you in the starlit arch of Marney, your
image has never been absent from my consciousness. Do not reject my
love; it is deep as your nature, and fervent as my own. Banish those
prejudices that have embittered your existence. If I be a noble, I have
none of the accidents of nobility. I cannot offer you wealth, splendour,
and power; but I can offer you the devotion of an entranced being,
aspirations that you shall guide, an ambition that you shall govern."
"These words are mystical and wild," said Sybil in amazement. "You are
Lord Marney's brother; I learnt it but yesterday. Retain your hand, and
share your life and fortunes! You forget what I am. No, no, kind
friend--for such I'll call you--your opinion of me touches me deeply. I
am not used to such passages in life. A union between the child and
brother of nobles and a daughter of the people is impossible. It would
mean estrangement from your family, their hopes destroyed, their pride
outraged. Believe me, the gulf is impassable."
The Chartist petition was rejected by the House of Commons
contemptuously. Riots took place in Birmingham. Sybil grew anxious for
her father's safety.
Egremont's speech in parliament on the presentation of the national
petition created some perplexity among his aristocratic relatives and
acquaintances. It was free from the slang of faction--the voice of a
noble who had upheld the popular cause, who had pronounced that the
rights of labour were as sacred as those of property, that the social
happiness of the millions should be the statesman's first object.
Sybil, enjoying the calm of St. James's Park on a summer morning, read
the speech with emotion, and while she still held the paper the orator
himself stood before her. She smiled without distress, and presently
confided to Egremont that she was unhappy, about her father.
"I honour your father," said Egremont "Counsel him to return to Mowbray.
Exert every energy to get him to leave London at once--to-night if
possible. After this business at Birmingham the government will strike
at the convention. If your father returns to Mowbray and is quiet, he
has a chance of not being disturbed."
Sybil returned and warned her father. "You are in danger," she cried,
"great and immediate. Let us quit this city to-night."
"To-morrow, my child," Walter Gerard assured her, "we will return to
Mowbray. To-night our council meets, and we have work of utmost
importance. We must discountenance scenes of violence. The moment our
council is over I will come back to you."
But Walter Gerard did not return. While Sybil sat and waited, Stephen
Morley entered the room. His manner was strange and unusual.
"Your father is in danger; time is precious. I can endure no longer the
anguish of my life. I love you, and if you will not be mine, I care for
no one's fate. I can save your father. If I see him before eight
o'clock, I can convince him that the government knows of his intentions,
and will arrest him to-night. I am ready to do this service--to save the
father from death and the daughter from despair, if she would but only
say to me: 'I have but one reward, and it is yours.'"
"It is bitter, this," said Sybil, "bitter for me and mine; but for you
pollution, this bargaining of blood. In the name of the Holy Virgin I
answer you--no!"
Morley rushed frantically from the room.
Sybil, in despair, made her way to a coffee-house near Charing Cross,
which she knew had been much frequented by members of the Chartist
Convention. Here, after some delay, she was given the fatal address in
Hunt Street, Seven Dials.
Sybil arrived at the meeting a few minutes before the police raided the
premises. She was found with her father, and taken with him and six
other men to Bow Street Police Station. A note to Egremont procured her
release in the early hours of the morning.
Walter Gerard in due time was sent to trial, convicted and sentenced to
eighteen month's confinement in York Castle.
_VI.--Within the Castle Walls_
In 1842 came the great stoppage of work. The mills ceased; the miners
went "to play," despairing of a fair day's wage for a fair day's work;
and the inhabitants of Woodgate--the Hell-cats, as they were called--
stirred up by a Chartist delegate, sallied forth with Simon Hatton,
named the "liberator," at their head to deal ruthlessly with all
"oppressors of the people."
They sacked houses, plundered cellars, ravaged provision shops,
destroyed gas-works and stormed workhouses. In time they came to
Mowbray. There the liberator came face to face with Baptist Hatton
without recognising his brother.
Stephen Morley and Baptist Hatton were in close conference.
"The times are critical," said Hatton.
"Mowbray may be burnt to the ground before the troops arrive," Morley
replied.
"And the castle, too," said Hatton quietly. "I was thinking only
yesterday of a certain box of papers. To business, friend Morley. This
savage relative of mine cannot be quiet. If he does not destroy
Trafford's Mill it will be the castle. Why not the castle instead of the
mill?"
Trafford's Mill was saved by the direct intervention of Walter Gerard.
All the people of Mowbray knew the good reputation of the Traffords, and
Gerard's eloquence turned the mob from the attack.
While the liberator and the Hell-cats hesitated, a man named Dandy Mick,
prompted by Morley, urged that a walk should be taken in Lord de
Mowbray's park.
The proposition was received with shouts of approbation. Gerard
succeeded in detaching a number of Mowbray men, but the Hell-cats, armed
with bludgeons, poured into the park and on to the castle.
Lady de Mowbray and her friends made their escape, taking Sybil, who had
sought refuge from the mob, with them.
Mr. St. Lys gathered a body of men in defence of the castle, but came
too late to prevent the entrance of the Hell-cats. Singularly enough,
Morley and one or two of his followers entered with the liberator.
The first great rush was to the cellars, and the invaders were quickly
at work knocking off the heads of bottles, and brandishing torches.
Morley and his lads traced their way down a corridor to the winding
steps of the Round Tower, and forced their way into the muniment room of
the castle. It was not till his search had nearly been abandoned in
despair that he found the small blue box blazoned with the arms of
Valence. He passed it hastily to a trusted companion, Dandy Mick, and
bade him deliver it to Sybil Gerard at the convent.
At this moment the noise of musketry was heard; the yeomanry were on the
scene.
Morley, cut off from flight by the military, was shot, pistol in hand,
with the name of Sybil on his lips. "The world will misjudge me," he
thought--"they will call me hypocrite, but the world is wrong."
The man with the box escaped through the window, and in spite of the
fire, troopers, and mob, reached the convent in safety.
The castle was burnt to the ground by the torches of the Hell-cats.
Sybil, separated from her friends, found herself surrounded by a band of
drunken ruffians. She was rescued by a yeomanry officer, who pressed her
to his heart.
"Never to part again," said Egremont.
Under Egremont's protection, Sybil returned to the convent, and there in
the courtyard they found Dandy Mick, who had refused to deliver his
charge, and was lying down with the blue box for his pillow. He had
fulfilled his mission. Sybil, too agitated to perceive all its import,
delivered the box into the custody of Egremont, who, bidding farewell to
Sybil, bade Mick follow him to his hotel.
While these events were happening, Lord Marney, hearing an alarmed and
exaggerated report of the insurrection, and believing that Egremont's
forces were by no means equal to the occasion, had set out for Mowbray
with his own troop of yeomanry.
Crossing the moor, he encountered Walter Gerard with a great multitude,
whom Gerard headed for purposes of peace.
His mind inflamed, and hating at all times any popular demonstration,
Lord Marney hastily read the Riot Act, and the people were fired on and
sabred. The indignant spirit of Gerard resisted, and the father of Sybil
was shot dead. Instantly arose a groan, and a feeling of frenzy came
over the people. Armed only with stones and bludgeons they defied the
troopers, and rushed at the horsemen; a shower of stones rattled without
ceasing on the helmet of Lord Marney, nor did the people rest till Lord
Marney fell lifeless on Mowbray Moor, stoned to death.
The writ of right against Lord de Mowbray proved successful in the
courts, and his lordship died of the blow.
For a long time after the death of her father Sybil remained in helpless
woe. The widowed Lady Marney, however, came over one day, and carried
her back to Marney Abbey, never again to quit it until the bridal day,
when the Earl and Countess of Marney departed for Italy.
Though the result was not what Mr. Hatton had once anticipated, the idea
that he had deprived Sybil of her inheritance had, ever since he had
become acquainted with her, been the plague-spot of Hatton's life, and
there was nothing he desired more than to see her restored to those
rights, and to be instrumental in that restoration.
Dandy Mick was rewarded for all the dangers he had encountered in the
service of Sybil, and was set up in business by Lord Marney. A year
after the burning of Mowbray Castle, on the return of the Earl and
Countess of Marney to England, the romantic marriage and the enormous
wealth of Lord and Lady Marney were still the talk in fashionable
circles.
* * * * *