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ᐸsamples n="ENG18450"ᐳ
ᐸsampleᐳᐸp n="ENG18450657"ᐳ“I shall be delighted; I hope he will come to Marney in October. I keep the blue ribbon cover for him.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18450658"ᐳ“What you suggest is very just,” said Egremont to Lady Maud. “If we only in our own spheres made the exertion, the general effect would be great. Marney Abbey, for instance, I believe one of the finest of our monastic remains,—that indeed is not disputed—diminished yearly to repair barns; the cattle browsing in the nave; all this might be prevented, If my brother would not consent to preserve or to restore, still any member of the family, even I, without expense, only with a little zeal as you say, might prevent mischief, might stop at least demolition.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18450659"ᐳ“If this movement in the church had only revived a taste for Christian architecture,” said Lady Maud, “it would not have been barren, and it has done so much more! But I am surprised that old families can be so dead to our national art; so full of our ancestors, their exploits, their mind. Indeed you and I have no excuse for such indifference Mr Egremont.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18450660"ᐳ“And I do not think I shall ever again be justly accused of it,” replied Egremont, “you plead its cause so effectively. But to tell you the truth, I have been thinking of late about these things; monasteries and so on; the influence of the old church system on the happiness and comfort of the People.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18450661"ᐳ“And on the tone of the Nobles—do not you think so?” said Lady Maud. “I know it is the fashion to deride the crusades, but do not you think they had their origin in a great impulse, and in a certain sense, led to great results? Pardon me, if I speak with emphasis, but I never can forget I am a daughter of the first crusaders.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18450662"ᐳ“The tone of society is certainly lower than of yore,” said Egremont. “It is easy to say we view the past through a fallacious medium. We have however ample evidence that men feel less deeply than of old and act with less devotion. But how far is this occasioned by the modern position of our church? That is the question.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18450663"ᐳ“You must speak to Mr St Lys about that,” said Lady Maud. “Do you know him?” she added in a lowered tone.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18450664"ᐳ“No; is he here?”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18450665"ᐳ“Next to mamma.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18450666"ᐳAnd looking in that direction, on the left hand of Lady Mowbray, Egremont beheld a gentleman in the last year of his youth, if youth according to the scale of Hippocrates cease at thirty-five. He was distinguished by that beauty of the noble English blood, of which in these days few types remain; the Norman tempered by the Saxon; the fire of conquest softened by integrity; and a serene, though inflexible habit of mind. The chains of convention, an external life grown out of all proportion with that of the heart and mind, have destroyed this dignified beauty. There is no longer in fact an aristocracy in England, for the superiority of the animal man is an essential quality of aristocracy. But that it once existed, any collection of portraits from the sixteenth century will show.ᐸ/pᐳ
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ᐸsampleᐳᐸp n="ENG184503024"ᐳ“I like to hear him say ‘Gentlemen;’ it’s respectful.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184503025"ᐳ“Gentlemen,” said the Dandy, “the National Holiday has begun—”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184503026"ᐳ“Three cheers for it!”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184503027"ᐳ“Silence; hear the Dandy!”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184503028"ᐳ“The National Holiday has begun,” continued Mick, “and it seems to me the best thing for the people to do is to take a walk in Lord de Mowbray’s park.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184503029"ᐳThis proposition was received with one of those wild shouts of approbation which indicate the orator has exactly hit his audience between wind and water. The fact is the public mind at this instant wanted to be led, and in Dandy Mick a leader appeared. A leader to be successful should embody in his system the necessities of his followers; express what every one feels, but no one has had the ability or the courage to pronounce.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184503030"ᐳThe courage and adroitness, the influence of Gerard, had reconciled the people to the relinquishment of the great end for which they had congregated; but neither man nor multitude like to make preparations without obtaining a result. Every one wanted to achieve some object by the movement; and at this critical juncture an object was proposed, and one which promised novelty, amusement, excitement. The Bishop whose consent must be obtained, but who relinquished an idea with the same difficulty with which he had imbibed it, alone murmured, and kept saying to Field, “I thought we came to burn down the mill! A bloody-minded Capitalist, a man that makes gardens and forces the people to wash themselves: What is all this?”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184503031"ᐳField said what he could, while Devilsdust leaning over the mule’s shoulder, cajoled the other ear of the Bishop, who at last gave his consent with almost as much reluctance as George the Fourth did to the emancipation of the Roman Catholics; but he made his terms, and said in a sulky voice he must have a glass of ale.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184503032"ᐳ“Drink a glass of ale with Lord de Mowbray,” said Devilsdust.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184503033"ᐳWhen the news had arrived in the morning at Mowbray, that the messengers of the Bishop had met with a somewhat queer reception at the Mowedale works, Gerard prescient that some trouble might in consequence occur there, determined to repair at once to the residence of his late employer. It so happened that Monday was the day on which the cottages up the dale and on the other side of the river were visited by an envoy of Ursula Trafford, and it was the office of Sybil this morning to fulfil the duties of that mission of charity. She had mentioned this to her father on the previous day, and as in consequence of the strike, he was no longer occupied, he had proposed to accompany his daughter on the morrow. Together therefore they had walked until they arrived at the bridge, it being then about two hours to noon, a little above their former residence. Here they were to separate. Gerard embraced his daughter with even more than usual tenderness; and as Sybil crossed the bridge, she looked round at her father, and her glance caught his, turned for the same fond purpose.ᐸ/pᐳ
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ᐸsampleᐳᐸp n="ENG184501331"ᐳ“Indeed!”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184501332"ᐳ“Yes: I could not help thinking of that to-day,” said Gerard, “when he questioned me with his mincing voice and pulled the wool with his cursed white hands and showed it to his dame, who touched it with her little finger; and his daughters who tossed their heads like pea-hens—Lady Joan and Lady Maud. Lady Joan and Lady Maud!” repeated Gerard in a voice of bitter sarcasm. “I did not care for the rest; but I could not stand that Lady Joan and that Lady Maud. I wonder if my Sybil saw them.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184501333"ᐳIn the meantime, Sybil had been sent for by Mrs Trafford. She had inferred from the message that the guests had departed, and her animated cheek showed the eagerness with which she had responded to the call. Bounding along with a gladness of the heart which lent additional lustre to her transcendent brightness, she suddenly found herself surrounded in the garden by Lady Maud and her friends. The daughter of Lord de Mowbray, who could conceive nothing but humility as the cause of her alarmed look, attempted to re-assure her by condescending volubility, turning often to her friends and praising in admiring interrogatories Sybil’s beauty.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184501334"ᐳ“And we took advantage of your absence,” said Lady Maud in a tone of amiable artlessness, “to find out all about you. And what a pity we did not know you when you were at the convent, because then you might have been constantly at the castle; indeed I should have insisted on it. But still I hear we are neighbours; you must promise to pay me a visit, you must indeed. Is not she beautiful?” she added in a lower but still distinct voice to her friend. “Do you know I think there is so much beauty among the lower order.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184501335"ᐳMr Mountchesney and Lord Milford poured forth several insipid compliments, accompanied with some speaking looks which they flattered themselves could not be misconstrued. Sybil said not a word, but answered each flood of phrases with a cold reverence.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG184501336"ᐳUndeterred by her somewhat haughty demeanour, which Lady Maud only attributed to the novelty of her situation, her ignorance of the world, and her embarrassment under this overpowering condescension, the good-tempered and fussy daughter of Lord de Mowbray proceeded to re-assure Sybil, and to enforce on her that this perhaps unprecedented descent from superiority was not a mere transient courtliness of the moment, and that she really might rely on her patronage and favourable feeling.ᐸ/pᐳ
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ᐸsampleᐳᐸp n="ENG18450876"ᐳThe form of Sybil Gerard was stamped upon his brain. It blended with all thoughts; it haunted every object. Who was this girl, unlike all women whom he had yet encountered, who spoke with such sweet seriousness of things of such vast import, but which had never crossed his mind, and with a kind of mournful majesty bewailed the degradation of her race? The daughter of the lowly, yet proud of her birth. Not a noble lady in the land who could boast a mien more complete, and none of them thus gifted, who possessed withal the fascinating simplicity that pervaded every gesture and accent of the daughter of Gerard.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18450877"ᐳYes! the daughter of Gerard; the daughter of a workman at a manufactory. It had not been difficult, after the departure of Sybil, to extract this information from the garrulous wife of the weaver. And that father,—he was not unknown to Egremont. His proud form and generous countenance were still fresh in the mind’s eye of our friend. Not less so his thoughtful speech; full of knowledge and meditation and earnest feeling! How much that he had spoken still echoed in the heart, and rung in the brooding ear of Egremont. And his friend, too, that pale man with those glittering eyes, who without affectation, without pedantry, with artlessness on the contrary and a degree of earnest singleness, had glanced like a master of philosophy at the loftiest principles of political science,—was he too a workman? And are these then THE PEOPLE? If so, thought Egremont, would that I lived more among them! Compared with their converse, the tattle of our saloons has in it something humiliating. It is not merely that it is deficient in warmth, and depth, and breadth; that it is always discussing persons instead of principles, and cloaking its want of thought in mimetic dogmas and its want of feeling in superficial raillery; it is not merely that it has neither imagination, nor fancy, nor sentiment, nor feeling, nor knowledge to recommend it; but it appears to me, even as regards manner and expression, inferior in refinement and phraseology; in short, trivial, uninteresting, stupid, really vulgar.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18450878"ᐳIt seemed to Egremont that, from the day he met these persons in the Abbey ruins, the horizon of his experience had insensibly expanded; more than that, there were streaks of light breaking in the distance, which already gave a new aspect to much that was known, and which perhaps was ultimately destined to reveal much that was now utterly obscure. He could not resist the conviction that from the time in question, his sympathies had become more lively and more extended; that a masculine impulse had been given to his mind; that he was inclined to view public questions in a tone very different to that in which he had surveyed them a few weeks back, when on the hustings of his borough.ᐸ/pᐳ
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ᐸsampleᐳᐸp n="ENG1845036"ᐳAnd at this moment entered the room the young nobleman whom we have before mentioned, accompanied by an individual who was approaching perhaps the termination of his fifth lustre but whose general air rather betokened even a less experienced time of life. Tall, with a well-proportioned figure and a graceful carriage, his countenance touched with a sensibility that at once engages the affections. Charles Egremont was not only admired by that sex, whose approval generally secures men enemies among their fellows, but was at the same time the favourite of his own.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845037"ᐳ“Ah, Egremont! come and sit here,” exclaimed more than one banqueter.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845038"ᐳ“I saw you waltzing with the little Bertie, old fellow,” said Lord Fitzheron, “and therefore did not stay to speak to you, as I thought we should meet here. I am to call for you, mind.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845039"ᐳ“How shall we all feel this time to-morrow?” said Egremont, smiling.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845040"ᐳ“The happiest fellow at this moment must be Cockie Graves,” said Lord Milford. “He can have no suspense. I have been looking over his book, and I defy him, whatever happens, not to lose.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845041"ᐳ“Poor Cockie.” said Mr Berners; “he has asked me to dine with him at the Clarendon on Saturday.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845042"ᐳ“Cockie is a very good Cockie,” said Lord Milford, “and Caravan is a very good horse; and if any gentleman sportsman present wishes to give seven to two, I will take him to any amount.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845043"ᐳ“My book is made up,” said Egremont; “and I stand or fall by Caravan.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845044"ᐳ“And I.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845045"ᐳ“And I.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845046"ᐳ“And I.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845047"ᐳ“Well, mark my words,” said a fourth, rather solemnly, “Rat-trap wins.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845048"ᐳ“There is not a horse except Caravan,” said Lord Milford, “fit for a borough stake.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845049"ᐳ“You used to be all for Phosphorus, Egremont,” said Lord Eugene de Vere.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845050"ᐳ“Yes; but fortunately I have got out of that scrape. I owe Phip Dormer a good turn for that. I was the third man who knew he had gone lame.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845051"ᐳ“And what are the odds against him now.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845052"ᐳ“Oh! nominal; forty to one,—what you please.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845053"ᐳ“He won’t run,” said Mr Berners, “John Day told me he had refused to ride him.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845054"ᐳ“I believe Cockie Graves might win something if Phosphorus came in first,” said Lord Milford, laughing.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845055"ᐳ“How close it is to-night!” said Egremont. “Waiter, give me some Seltzer water; and open another window; open them all.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG1845056"ᐳAt this moment an influx of guests intimated that the assembly at Lady St Julian’s was broken up. Many at the table rose and yielded their places, clustering round the chimney-piece, or forming in various groups, and discussing the great question. Several of those who had recently entered were votaries of Rat-trap, the favourite, and quite prepared, from all the information that had reached them, to back their opinions valiantly. The conversation had now become general and animated, or rather there was a medley of voices in which little was distinguished except the names of horses and the amount of odds. In the midst of all this, waiters glided about handing incomprehensible mixtures bearing aristocratic names; mystical combinations of French wines and German waters, flavoured with slices of Portugal fruits, and cooled with lumps of American ice, compositions which immortalized the creative genius of some high patrician name.ᐸ/pᐳ
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