Sybil by Benjamin Disraeli (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

only for a few hours. Her husband she said had just quitted the house; he was obliged to go to the factory to receive a great and distinguished party who were expected this morning, having written to him several days before for permission to view the works. “We expect them to lunch here afterwards,” said Mrs. Trafford, a very refined woman, but unused to society, and who rather trembled at the ceremony; “Oh! do stay with me, Sybil, to receive them.”

This intimation so much alarmed Sybil that she rose as soon as was practicable; and saying that she had some visits to make in the village, she promised to return when Mrs. Trafford was less engaged.

An hour elapsed; there was a loud ring at the hall-door, the great and distinguished party had arrived. Mrs. Trafford prepared for the interview, and tried to look very composed as the doors opened, and her husband ushered in and presented to her Lord and Lady de Mowbray, their daughters, Lady Firebrace, Mr. Jermyn, who still lingered at the castle, and Mr. Alfred Mountchesney and Lord Milford, who were mere passing guests, on their way to Scotland, but reconnoitering the heiresses in their course.

Lord de Mowbray was profuse of praise and compliments. His lordship was apt to be too civil. The breed would come out sometimes. Today he was quite the coffeehouse waiter. He praised everything: the machinery, the workmen, the cotton manufactured and the cotton raw, even the smoke. But Mrs. Trafford would not have the smoke defended, and his lordship gave the smoke up, but only to please her. As for Lady de Mowbray, she was as usual courteous and condescending, with a kind of smouldering smile on her fair aquiline face, that seemed half pleasure and half surprise at the strange people she was among. Lady Joan was haughty and scientific, approved of much, but principally of the system of ventilation, of which she asked several questions which greatly perplexed Mrs. Trafford, who slightly blushed, and looked at her husband for relief, but he was engaged with Lady Maud, who was full of enthusiasm, entered into everything with the zest of sympathy, identified herself with the factory system almost as much as she had done with the crusades, and longed to teach in singing schools, found public gardens, and bid fountains flow and sparkle for the people.

“I think the works were very wonderful,” said Lord Milford, as he was cutting a pasty; “and indeed, Mrs. Trafford, everything here is quite charming; but what I have most admired at your place is a young girl we met⁠—the most beautiful I think I ever saw.”

“With the most beautiful dog,” said Mr. Mountchesney.

“Oh! that must have been Sybil!” exclaimed Mrs. Trafford.

“And who is Sybil?” asked Lady Maud. “That is one of our family names. We all thought her quite beautiful.”

“She is a child of the house,” said Mrs. Trafford, “or rather was, for I am sorry to say she has long quitted us.”

“Is she a nun?” asked Lord Milford, “for her vestments had a conventual air.”

“She has just left your convent at Mowbray,” said Mr. Trafford, addressing his answer to Lady Maud, “and rather against her will. She clings to the dress she was accustomed to there.”

“And now she resides with you?”

“No; I should be very happy if she did. I might almost say she was brought up under this roof. She lives now with her father.”

“And who is so fortunate as to be her father?” enquired Mr. Mountchesney.

“Her father is the inspector of my works; the person who accompanied us over them this morning.”

“What! that handsome man I so much admired,” said Lady Maud, “so very aristocratic-looking. Papa,” she said, addressing herself to Lord de Mowbray, “the inspector of Mr. Trafford’s works we are speaking of, that aristocratic-looking person that I observed to you, he is the father of the beautiful girl.”

“He seemed a very intelligent person,” said Lord de Mowbray with many smiles.

“Yes,” said Mr. Trafford; “he has great talents and great integrity. I would trust him with anything and to any amount. All I wish,” he added, with a smile and in a lower tone to Lady de Mowbray, “all I wish is, that he was not quite so fond of politics.”

“Is he very violent?” enquired her ladyship in a sugary tone.

“Too violent,” said Mr. Trafford, “and wild in his ideas.”

“And yet I suppose,” said Lord Milford, “he must be very well off?”

“Why I must say for him it is not selfishness that makes him a malcontent,” said Mr. Trafford; “he bemoans the condition of the people.”

“If we are to judge of the condition of the people by what we see here,” said Lord de Mowbray, “there is little to lament in it. But I fear these are instances not so common as we could wish. You must have been at a great outlay, Mr. Trafford?”

“Why,” said Mr. Trafford, “for my part. I have always considered that there was nothing so expensive as a vicious population. I hope I had other objects in view in what I have done than a pecuniary compensation. They say we all have our hobbies; and it was ever mine to improve the condition of my workpeople, to see what good tenements and good schools and just wages paid in a fair manner, and the encouragement of civilizing pursuits, would do to elevate their character. I should find an ample reward in the moral tone and material happiness of this community; but really viewing it in a pecuniary point of view, the investment of capital has been one of the most profitable I ever made; and I would not, I assure you, for double its amount, exchange my workpeople for the promiscuous assemblage engaged in other factories.”

“The influence of the atmosphere on the condition of the labourer is a subject which deserves investigation,” said Lady Joan to Mr. Jermyn, who stared and bowed.

“And you do not feel alarmed at having a person of such violent opinions as your inspector at the head of your establishment,” said Lady Firebrace to Mr. Trafford, who smiled a negative.

“What is the name