Sybil, or the Two Nations Part 12

"Well, I never," said Mrs Carey. "No; I never heard a thing like that!"

"What, not when you cut up the jacka.s.s and sold it for veal cutlets, mother."

"Hold your tongue, Mr Imperence," said the widow. "It's very well known you're no Christian, and who'll believe what you say?"

"It's very well known that I'm a man what pays his way," said the boy, "and don't keep a huckster's stall to sell carrion by star-light; but live in a two pair, if you please, and has a wife and family, or as good."

"O! you aggravating imp!" exclaimed the widow in despair, unable to wreak her vengeance on one who kept in a secure position, and whose movements were as nimble as his words.

"Why, Madam Carey, what has Dandy Mick done to thee?" said a good-humoured voice, it came from one of two factory girls who were pa.s.sing her stall and stopped. They were gaily dressed, a light handkerchief tied under the chin, their hair scrupulously arranged; they wore coral neck-laces and earrings of gold.

"Ah! is it you, my child," said the widow, who was a good-hearted creature. "The dandy has been giving me some of his imperence."

"But I meant nothing, dame," said Mick. "It was a joke,--only a joke."

"Well, let it pa.s.s," said Mrs Carey. "And where have you been this long time, my child; and who's your friend?" she added in a lower tone.

"Well, I have left Mr Trafford's mill," said the girl.

"That's a bad job," said Mrs Carey; "for those Traffords are kind to their people. It's a great thing for a young person to be in their mill."

"So it is," said the girl, "but then it was so dull. I can't stand a country life, Mrs Carey. I must have company."

"Well, I do love a bit of gossip myself," said Mrs Carey, with great frankness.

"And then I'm no scholar," said the girl, "and never could take to learning. And those Traffords had so many schools."

"Learning is better than house and land," said Mrs Carey; "though I'm no scholar myself; but then, in my time, things was different. But young persons--"

"Yes," said Mick; "I don't think I could get through the day, if it wurno' for our Inst.i.tute."

"And what's that?" asked Mrs Carey with a sneer.

"The Shoddy-Court Literary and Scientific, to be sure," said Mick; "we have got fifty members, and take in three London papers; one 'Northern Star' and two 'Moral Worlds.'"

"And where are you now, child?" continued the widow to the girl.

"I am at Wiggins and Webster's," said the girl; "and this is my partner.

We keep house together; we have a very nice room in Arbour Court, No.

7, high up; it's very airy. If you will take a dish of tea with us to-morrow, we expect some friends."

"I take it kindly," said Mrs Carey; "and so you keep house together! All the children keep house in these days. Times is changed indeed!"

"And we shall be happy to see you, Mick; and Julia, if you are not engaged;" continued the girl; and she looked at her friend, a pretty demure girl, who immediately said, but in a somewhat faultering tone, "Oh! that we shall."

"And what are you going to do now, Caroline?" said Mick.

"Well, we had no thoughts; but I said to Harriet, as it is a fine night, let us walk about as long as we can and then to-morrow we will lie in bed till afternoon."

"That's all well eno' in winter time with plenty of baccy," said Mick, "but at this season of the year I must have life. The moment I came out I bathed in the river, and then went home and dressed," he added in a satisfied tone; "and now I am going to the Temple. I'll tell you what, Julia has been p.r.i.c.ked to-day with a shuttle, 'tis not much, but she can't go out; I'll stand treat, and take you and your friend to the Temple."

"Well, that's delight," said Caroline. "There's no one does the handsome thing like you, Dandy Mick, and I always say so. Oh! I love the Temple!

'Tis so genteel! I was speaking of it to Harriet last night; she never was there. I proposed to go with her--but two girls alone,--you understand me. One does not like to be seen in these places, as if one kept no company."

"Very true," said Mick; "and now we'll be off. Good night, widow."

"You'll remember us to-morrow evening," said Caroline. "To-morrow evening! The Temple!" murmured Mrs Carey to herself. "I think the world is turned upside downwards in these parts. A brat like Mick Radley to live in a two pair, with a wife and family, or as good as he says; and this girl asks me to take a dish of tea with her and keeps house!

Fathers and mothers goes for nothing," continued Mrs Carey, as she took a very long pinch of snuff and deeply mused. "'tis the children gets the wages," she added after a profound pause, "and there it is."

Book 2 Chapter 10

In the meantime Gerard and Stephen stopped before a tall, thin, stuccoed house, ball.u.s.traded and friezed, very much lighted both within and without, and, from the sounds that issued from it, and the persons who retired and entered, evidently a locality of great resort and bustle. A sign, bearing the t.i.tle of the Cat and Fiddle, indicated that it was a place of public entertainment, and kept by one who owned the legal name of John Trottman, though that was but a vulgar appellation, lost in his well-earned and far-famed t.i.tle of Chaffing Jack.

The companions entered the s.p.a.cious premises; and making their way to the crowded bar, Stephen, with a glance serious but which indicated intimacy, caught the eye of a comely lady, who presided over the mysteries, and said in a low voice, "Is he here?"

"In the Temple, Mr Morley, asking for you and your friend more than once. I think you had better go up. I know he wishes to see you."

Stephen whispered to Gerard and after a moment's pause, he asked the fair president for a couple of tickets for each of which he paid threepence; a sum however, according to the printed declaration of the voucher, convertible into potential liquid refreshments, no great compensation to a very strict member of the Temperance Society of Mowbray.

A handsome staircase with bright bra.s.s bannisters led them to an ample landing-place, on which opened a door, now closed and by which sate a boy who collected the tickets of those who would enter it. The portal was of considerable dimensions and of architectural pretension; it was painted of a bright green colour, the panels gilt. Within the pediment, described in letters of flaming gas, you read, "THE TEMPLE OF THE MUSES."

Gerard and Morley entered an apartment very long and sufficiently lofty, though rather narrow for such proportions. The ceiling was even richly decorated; the walls were painted, and by a brush of considerable power.

Each panel represented some well-known scene from Shakespeare, Byron, or Scott: King Richard, Mazeppa, the Lady of the Lake were easily recognized: in one panel, Hubert menaced Arthur; here Haidee rescued Juan; and there Jeanie Deans curtsied before the Queen. The room was very full; some three or four hundred persons were seated in different groups at different tables, eating, drinking, talking, laughing, and even smoking, for notwithstanding the pictures and the gilding it was found impossible to forbid, though there were efforts to discourage, this practice, in the Temple of the Muses. Nothing however could be more decorous than the general conduct of the company, though they consisted princ.i.p.ally of factory people. The waiters flew about with as much agility as if they were serving n.o.bles. In general the noise was great, though not disagreeable; sometimes a bell rang and there was comparative silence, while a curtain drew up at the further end of the room, opposite to the entrance, and where there was a theatre, the stage raised at a due elevation, and adorned with side scenes from which issued a lady in a fancy dress who sang a favourite ballad; or a gentleman elaborately habited in a farmer's costume of the old comedy, a bob-wig, silver b.u.t.tons and buckles, and blue stockings, and who favoured the company with that melancholy effusion called a comic song.

Some nights there was music on the stage; a young lady in a white robe with a golden harp, and attended by a gentleman in black mustachios.

This was when the princ.i.p.al harpiste of the King of Saxony and his first fiddler happened to be pa.s.sing through Mowbray, merely by accident, or on a tour of pleasure and instruction, to witness the famous scenes of British industry. Otherwise the audience of the Cat and Fiddle, we mean the Temple of the Muses, were fain to be content with four Bohemian brothers, or an equal number of Swiss sisters. The most popular amus.e.m.e.nts however were the "Thespian recitations:" by amateurs, or novices who wished to become professional. They tried their metal on an audience which could be critical.

A sharp waiter, with a keen eye on the entering guests, immediately saluted Gerard and his friend, with profuse offers of hospitality: insisting that they wanted much refreshment; that they were both very hungry and very thirsty: that, if not hungry, they should order something to drink that would give them an appet.i.te: if not inclined to quaff, something to eat that would make them athirst. In the midst of these embarra.s.sing attentions, he was pushed aside by his master with, "There, go; hands wanted at the upper end; two American gentlemen from Lowell singing out for Sherry Cobler; don't know what it is; give them our bar mixture; if they complain, say it's the Mowbray slap-bang, and no mistake. Must have a name, Mr Morley; name's everything; made the fortune of the Temple: if I had called it the Saloon, it never would have filled, and perhaps the magistrates never have granted a licence."

The speaker was a very portly man who had pa.s.sed the maturity of manhood, but active as Harlequin. He had a well-favoured countenance; fair, good-humoured, but very sly. He was dressed like the head butler of the London Tavern, and was particular as to his white waistcoats and black silk stockings, punctilious as to his knee-buckles, proud of his diamond pin; that is to say when he officiated at the Temple.

"Your mistress told us we should find you here," said Stephen, "and that you wished to see us.

"Plenty to tell you," said their host putting his finger to his nose. "If information is wanted in this part of the world, I flatter myself--Come, Master Gerard, here's a table; what shall I call for?

gla.s.s of the Mowbray slap-bang? No better; the receipt has been in our family these fifty years. Mr Morley I know won't join us. Did you say a cup of tea, Mr Morley? Water, only water; well, that's strange. Boy alive there, do you hear me call? Water wanted, gla.s.s of water for the Secretary of the Mowbray Temperance and Teatotal. Sing it out. I like t.i.tled company. Brush!"

"And so you can give us some information about this--"

"Be back directly." exclaimed their host: and darting off with a swift precision, that carried him through a labyrinth of tables without the slightest inconvenience to their occupiers. "Beg pardon, Mr Morley,"

he said, sliding again into his chair; "but saw one of the American gentlemen brandishing his bowie-knife against one of my waiters; called him Colonel; quieted him directly; a man of his rank brawling with a help; oh! no; not to be thought of; no squabbling here; licence in danger."

"You were saying--" resumed Morley.