The Daughter of Night: a story of the present Time

Preface

. Time is a great wizard. He transforms all things; and Science and Literature, as well as the practical creations of Art, yield unresistingly to his spells. Even works of fiction are not exempt from their influence ; and to this we owe that the modern Eng lish novel is no longer motiveless and inane. A high aim now associates itself with the vocation of the novelist, leading him to new7 and unexplored fields, fruitful in the noblest lessons, the mightiest interests. In comparison with these, the obsolete sentiment of bygone fiction shows itself false and puerile. What heart can be touched by it, when a world of real suffering, clad in our own gar ment of flesh and blood, throbs around us? when every dark alley can tell a wilder tale of sorrow, of wrong, and of endurance ? Within a few weeks one fearful trade has exacted a sacrifice of nearly a hundred lives, snatched from the world in the flush and pride of manhood, unsummoned aud unprepared. In the depths of the earth, where her treasures lie like a w7ise man's thoughts,

PREFACE.

. secreted in unseen recesses, the hardy and intrepid miner every day finds a grave. Here there must be something radically wrong; something human ingenuity may not be able to counteract, but which, at least, should command attention. Let us dive for a moment into those gloomy underground fields, those regions of eternal night ; and see their undaunted reaper at his dread hus bandry. In a work claiming the companion ship of light hours, it can be but a rapid glance ; but, perhaps, some may rise from it with hearts enlarged, kinder, and better. And as we pass through the noble streets of the metropolis, exulting at the opulence of its merchants, the grandeur of its public buildings, and the historic renown of its name, it were well to think of the misery and wretchedness that pine and pant in un known back passages, accessible only through door -like courts, gaping into the main thoroughfares for breath.

Where is the poli tical Hercules who will undertake to cleanse such Augean stables? Where is the Appian conduit that will pour a healing and purify ing stream through their reeking cellars ? Long observation of the moral and social condition of the poorer classes has convinced PEEFACE. V me that it is not by measures of physical amelioration alone, be they ever so compre hensive, that the State can afford them effec tual and permanent succour. It is necessary not only to ameliorate, but to elevate — not only to relieve, but to instruct. The mind recoils from the contemplation of that mass of dense and stolid ignorance, which lies, in all its awful breadth and nakedness, festering at our doors. And surely there is no Dives so selfish as to withhold, in the midst of his own abundance, those frugal crumbs of knowledge it so earnestly yearns to devour.

Education is the kindly nurture by which its sores may be healed ; its emaciated frame raised up; its strength, its moral health, re stored. Then we shall no longer find that the humble children of labour live in an atmosphere poisoned by vice : nor will they be left to flounder in a Slough of Despond, having their very household words contami nated by foul associations. A most sinister feature in connexion with the social degradation of the poor is their hostihty to those who naturally should be their teachers — the Established Clergy. A truly venerable dignitary of the Church, the Dean of Sarum, considers this feeling to have b VI PREFACE, been generated by the Clergy themselves — by their culpable neglect, their worldliness, and their egregious avarice. And may it not have been fostered and strengthened by their unhappy divisions, which, even at the present crisis, when the enemy is knocking at their gates, they cannot be brought to forego, though the vast majority of their flocks were never more disposed to peace able and religious fellowship.

But it is not in this place that I should dwell on anomahes which appear promi nently and more suitably in the following pages. Here it only remains to say, that the Times, some three months ago, pointed to the present condition of the mining population, touched upon in these volumes, as abounding in points eminently available for the purposes of fiction. " The Daughter of Night" was then nearly completed, though, from unforeseen circumstances, the publica tion has been delayed ; and with this intro duction, I must leave her to relate her own story. S. W. F. London, January, 1851. OF NIGHT.

Chapter I

A hundred fathoms deep, through rock and stone and mineral, down in the bowels of the earth, and for more than a mile from the yawning shaft, stretched the seams and arteries of a coal mine, in one of which, about three feet in height, and as many broad, huddled in a smad recess, scooped in the side, was a human figure, attired in what seemed the dress of a male, though the wearer was a young girl. VOL. I. The trapper — for so her vocation was named— discharged the important duty of aiding the ventilation of the mine. This process commenced, of course, at the shaft or entrance, which was divided by massive beams into two compartments, each having an inner partition, or brattice, expressly for the passage of air. These were respectively caded the driving brat tice and the drawing brattice ; and it was through the former that the air descended, passing up the gate-road, or main passage, to the workings.

The workings branched off from the gate-road, about a mile fur ther on, through low, narrow corridors, such as that described, and which opened, at intervals, into roomy excavations caded boards, where all the coal had been dug out, leaving only a pier to support the tunnel. At the entrance to each board was a trap-door, which, being kept constantly shut by the trapper, except when a train of waggons was passing through, forced the fresh air up the intervening passage into the next excavation; and thus the ventilating draught, traversing all the workings, came round, through another series of traps, to the shaft, where it was impelled up the drawing brattice, affording room for a fresh rush through the driving. After the lapse of some time, the trap higher up, at the other end of the passage, was pulled open, giving admittance to a train of tubs, loaded with coal, and having a safety-lamp perched on the foremost, gleaming in the darkness like a star.

They were pushed on by a bandsman, whom Millicent, as he drew nigh, recognised, in the faint light, as one with whom she could claim affinity, though in a very remote degree — his mother, however, being her nearest living relation. " Here's the last load for to-night, Milly, lass," said the bandsman, halting. " They're easin'-to up yonder, and thee won't be b2 a bit sorry, I doubt, when thou hears 'em holla, ' Knock off' " " No," replied the girl; " but will it be long first, Jack? for it's been rare-an-bad here the day — so stiflin', like. I've hardly got my breath. I don't know, ay ther," she continued, more earnestly, " as ever I took on so sadly afore about bein1 in the dark, but I warn't able to help it, all I could think on." "Reason why — thou's been potterin', most loike, on that old tale of a ghost as they've got about.

I don't believe as there's ony such cattle myself. I've worked in the pit, man and boy, goin' on twenty year, and I never see one." " They say it only comes just afore a blow-up, or when the choke-damp's gatherin'." "All stuff! If thou swallows half their yarns, they'll tell 'ee the moon's made of green cheese. There be no ghosts here, I warrant; and if so be as they'd only keep the traps in order, and have another cuttin' for air, we shouldn't be troubled about choke-damp. They won't do that, howsomdever, till the par liament-house puts in a word, and then they'll be obligated, I take it. But here be our gang comin', and thou'll soon get off now." As he moved on with his train, the party of labourers employed above in the furthermost working, appeared at the upper trap, pouring through the passage on their knees.

Swart, massive men they were, with their bodies stripped to the waist, showing, as they dragged their huge limbs along, the broad quivering lines of every muscle. They made no pause in the headway, but with a word of greeting to Millicent, as she opened the trap, passed out, leaving her once more to solitude and darkness. But this was only for a moment. As the sound of their voices, which had made her feel somewhat bolder, died away, giving place to complete silence, the upper trap was again opened, admitting their doggie, or ganger, whose business it was to go through the mine on the com pletion of the day's work, and see all was in good order for the next morning. " Well, lass, how go'st thee on ? This be a thunderin' hot headway you be in, I suppose ?" " Yes." "And thou loikes this surt o' work better nor bein' above, mindin' your own cookin'-pot ?

Another toime you won't say no to a good thing, I'se wand you — Haw ! haw !" The girl did not reply. " I don't know what thou'd be doin' on," resumed Black Jem, after eying her a moment in silence. " There bain't a wench in the pit as wouldn't jump at such a lift, if I gie'd 'em the chance — Doll Stukeley, for one; but they've all got so much gab in 'em, and I wants one as won't gie me tongue, loike that drab Sue did, sink her! That's whoy I pitches on you." " They say as you sarved poor Sue so bad, you made her drowned herself," said Millicent. " Who says so ?" demanded Jem, furiously. " I should loike to hear 'em, and they wouldn't say owght about me ony more in a hurry." Again there was no reply. " You believes 'em !" pursued Jem, with a fierce scowl ; " you believes 'em, though I hadn't no more to do with it nor a child unborn !

Just say you be lieves 'em, will 'ee ?" " Well, I do." An execration rose to Jem's lips, but was denied utterance, as, recollecting him self, he crunched his teeth with suppressed rage. " Now I thinks on't," he said, " you was always hangin' on to Sue, and so you be readier to take agen I, but, stroike me dead, if I warn't downright sorry when I heerd as she'd jumped in the sluice. So thou's nowght to feck about there." " I got no mind to feck about it, or to say 'ee dl words, if thee'd only let me be." " Well, I wants to give 'ee one more chance. There ain't no fuss now about marryin', but you just goes up to a re jessier, and has your name wrote down, and then you be buckled-to. So now speak out at once, and say what thou'll be at." " I told 'ee last night, and thou knows I ain't like to alter."

"Thou'd be no woman, if 'ee didn't, for they veers about loike grasshoppers here to-day, there to-morrow, and then t'other place. There be no use moindin' 'em ; and so I tell 'ee, lass, I'll have thee home to-morrow, hook or crook." " No, you won't," said the girl, reso lutely. " No ! I'll let you kill me first." " Thou would, would 'ee ?" scowled Jem, raising his hatchet, as though he would strike. " I could do it now, and chuck you into the dead-gap there, and folk be never the wiser. But I know what thee's buddin' on ! I spied 'ee, when thou didn't think it, talkin' wi' young Muster Belwood on Sunday, and fancyin' thee cut it so flash. Fool ! as if he'd look twoice at the loike o' thou, bad 'un as he be !" " I don't want him to look at me, nor thou, nor ony one. Just let me be — that's all !"

" No, I won't. I'd be a plague to 'ee — a reg'lar leech, stickin' on constant. Rot 'ee ! now there's hardly nobody in the pit, I've a gallus good moind to sarve 'ee wuss." " You daren't !" said Millicent, springing up.* Whether Jem did, or did not, intend to carry out his threat, remained a secret; for at this moment his eye fell on the safety-lamp, and he perceived that the flame was edged round with blue, presenting the appearance miners cad " afire," and which, as he well knew, indicated the presence of explosive gases. It be came necessary, therefore, to look to personal safety; and he hesitated an in stant, as if half inclined to save Midicent ; but then pushed past, muttering, " No ! let her foind it out." Thus left to herself, Milhcent again crouched in the recess, waiting anxiously the moment of release.

The thought that she was, as Black Jem had intimated, nearly alone in the pit, united with the prevaihng rumours of apparitions, and the deep, solemn, and unbroken silence, now gave redoubled force to her terrors, previously almost insupportable. Her heart beat so violently, that she actually heard the pulsation; and her short, low cough, scarcely ever heeded before, made her start, resounding so loud and so often through the vaulted passages. Gradually she became sensible of an oppressive closeness in the air, rendering it difficult to respire. A strange, sulphur ous smell began to rise, penetrating to her chest, and exciting a feeling of nausea, intense and overpowering. What could it be? Her instinctive apprehension that some catastrophe was at hand grew stronger — became, in fact, irrepressible.

Breathless, racked with suspense, she listened for the word to leave the pit; but in vain, though assured, from the departure of all the holers, that it must be past the regular time. What was to be done ? To remain longer was impossible; and she determined, at risk of dismissal, to make the best of her way to the shaft. Opening the trap, she entered the next passage, which, being between two ex hausted boards, was so low and narrow that she was obliged to move along on her knees. It was also much darker — that is, though accustomed to see objects in the dark, and now stooping down, she could not distinguish the rails of the tramway. Added to this, the poisonous odour be came more virulent, the heat and dense air more oppressive ; and she was yet nearly a quarter of a mile from the gate-road, or main thoroughfare, itself a mile in length.

As she moved along, a lassitude seized her limbs ; an unnatural drowsiness, which she could not shake off, weighed down and closed her eyes; and she began to feel a strange, reckless indifference to anything that might happen. By a great effort she aroused herself, recovering that precious instinct which urges the most desperate to prize and cling to life, even when it would seem to possess no value. Then, mustering all her energy, she pushed forward, passing the several deserted workings, and through as many doors, very imprudently forsaken by their attendant trappers, while some were left open, as if abandoned in haste. She now thought that the word, per haps, had been called out while she was talking with Black Jem, and so had been unheeded, or possibly, in the hurry of a general alarm, she had been forgotten ; and the fearful reflection occurred that she was cut off from assistance, and even if she escaped with life, would have to pass the night in the mine.

She was now in the last headway, opening into the principal passage, and from a rushing sound of water, streaming down the black walls into a drain, knew she must be near the first trap. With out stretched hands she moved on, bruising her knees on splinters of coal, spillage from the day's trains, and often grazing her head against the timber-work above, supporting the mountain roof. But now the trap was reached, and, raising the click, she drew it open, when a terrific crash — a loud, roaring, tremendous thunder-clap, starting and expanding a myriad echoes, drove through the mine, shooting her headlong into the gate-road, stunned and breathless. For a moment she lay perfectly stupi fied, but then sprang up, fully recodect ing her situation. She had been thrown against a dead-gap, or line of deserted workings, where, the seam of coal being exhausted, the props which sustain the roof had been removed, and vast masses of earth, rock, and waste mineral, pressed by the enormous overweight, had faden in, forming crude and fantastic heaps, with continual interstices, which reahsed the confusion of Chaos.

She knew that these Pandorian recesses generate the baneful stythe, or choke-damp, always following close on explosions, and which, rodinoforth like a fog, carries death to the re motest nooks ; and she instantly resumed her flight. The way was so intersected by sleepers, supporting the tramroad, here, in conse quence of the greater width, made to run waggons, that it might be thought impos sible to proceed rapidly; but in flying for life, obstacles are little heeded. With her hands raised overhead, to beat back the foul air, now becoming more and more stifling, Millicent darted down an inclined plane, nearly dashing against a row of empty waggons at the bottom. Stid ad vancing, she looked with straining eyes for the least trace of light, as marking the distant shaft; but ad was darkness — darkness visible and tangible, such as made Pharoah succumb.

At last, a feeble streamy flickering, like a meteor, then a kind of dim light, could be faintly discerned ; but it was not sufficient to reveal any object, or show even the outlines of the passage. But Millicent, seeing the shaft so nigh, nerved herself for a last effort, though, as there were no means of leaving the mine, escape was apparently hopeless. Already, indeed, the deadly stythe was rolling by; her head swam ; her breath stopped ; a thousand columns of fire flashed before her eyes; and she fell to the ground senseless.

Chapter II

Black Jem, like Millicent, in making his way out of the pit, had found the whole of the traps abandoned ; but having a light, was able to move along much quicker, and overtook the missing trappers, flying in all haste to the shaft. Here half a dozen holers and bandsmen who had arrived too late for the preceding hoist, were waiting the descent of the cage, which, relieved of its load, was just entering the pit-mouth. All prepared to spring in, as soon as it touched the ground; but there was no pushing foremost, each being ready, with a feeling of abnegation provervol. i. c bial among miners, to assist the less agile, though at risk of endangering himself. Black Jem alone stood aloof, turning every now and then a moody glance up the gate road, as if still thinking of Millicent. But, at last, every one had entered the cage, and he jumped into the bottom tier, calling out, in a sullen, dogged tone, to pull up.

The apprehension now was, that the explosion, which all felt imminent, would occur while they were ascending, in which case the violence of the concussion must derange the tackle, and they would be in evitably dashed to pieces. Not a word was spoken as the huge carriage climbed the terrible ascent. Some kept their gaze steadily on the pit-mouth, though the air rushing down, mingled with particles of coal-dust, almost blinded them; others closed their eyes, and even buried their heads on their knees, afraid almost to breathe. Long seemed the interval, though only a few minutes, and the cage reached the top, landing its freight on the gratings. At the same moment, the explosion, so fearfully, breathlessly awaited, burst forth, shaking the ground like an earthquake, and making the mas sive timbers of the scaffold raised over the shaft rock like twigs.

A dead silence ensued, but it lasted only an instant, when there rose a Babel of troubled voices. All within hearing, for more than a mile round, instantly made for the spot. The Viewer and clerks rushed from the office; the engineer and his stokers, from the engine-house; and men, women, and children, haggard, horror stricken, ignorant how much and nearly they might be affected by the catastrophe, came in troops from the pit-village. Some called for their parents or husbands ; some, for their companions; some, in hurried and agitated accents, inquired for the missing. c " There's a trapper short of the num ber," observed Mr. Phipps, the Viewer. " It is — what d'ye call her ? — the pretty delicate girl ? — Rennel ! Any one know where Rennel is ?" " Where's Rennel ? — where's Milly Rennel ?" cried a legion of tongues.

No one knew. Black Jem, who alone could tell, turned aside, afraid that his disturbed looks miedit attract attention. D There was a pause, terminated by a slight bustle, and two men sprang into the cage. They were Jack Rodin, and a young holer, named Whittaker. A murmur of applause saluted them, and many pressed forward, with an ear nestness very striking in such rude people, to grasp their hands, bidding them what would probably be an eternal farewell. Few, indeed, had any expectation that they would come up alive ; but regarding the obligation of mutual aid on these occasions with religious reverence, no one sought to oppose or discountenance the enterprise. The word was given to lower, and cage and men, launched from the crowded grating, sank slowly through the dark aperture. Thus they continued to de scend, though, as the choke-damp might possibly be met in their way down, in time to give an alarm, arrangements were made to draw up with speed, soon as they should call out; and every ear waited anxiously for the half-expected sound.

The two men, meanwhile, watched their own progress with surprising cool ness. " It be a long pull, goin' slow," remarked Jack Rollin. " Hadn't I best call out to clap the steam on?" " No, no, it won't do no good, that," replied Whittaker; "for if we comes on the foul air too sudden, whether it's stythe or not, it'll settle us smack. They be lowerin' quite fast enough." " I can't look up, now," rejoined Jack, " the draught catches me so. Don't you smell it?" " Yes." They both covered their mouths and were silent. " We be gettin' nigh, now," said Jack Rollin, at length. " I knows the old pit so famous, I can ted blindfold. And the air ! — ugh!" " It's pison," replied Whittaker. The increased stench, the darkness, the rolling, icy damp, did, indeed, leave no doubt that they were approaching the bottom; and soon the cage struck, and the two men alighted.

With ad their precautions, the change of atmosphere, on turning to the gate-road, was so abrupt, so blasting, that it made them stagger back, as if struck by lightning; and the Davy held up by Whittaker, in the vain expectation of piercing the impenetrable and awful darkness, instantly blued, de noting that this mass of noxious, deadly gases, was as inflammable as gunpowder. Rodin tried to shout, in hopes that Millicent, if not yet dead, might be within hearing, and be encouraged to hurry for ward; but the attempt, admitting a rush of foul air to his already oppressed lungs, was nigh being fatal, and he only escaped by springing back to the shaft. Whittaker, who had carefully muffled his mouth, was still pressing on, when, after a few rapid steps, something caused him to stumble, and stooping, he found it was a human body' — a woman's. There could be no doubt it was Millicent's ; and though, from her posture, her dead weight, her unmis takable stillness, the spirit seemed to have departed, he eagerly snatched her up, and bore her to the cage.

Rollin, after vainly endeavouring to rally, had crawled in just before, and was now lying helpless in the bottom, and Whittaker had but just strength to call the concerted word up the pipe, when he fell himself. All was in readiness above, and the cage, once in motion, flew up the creaking grooves. In a few minutes it reached the grating, and a hundred eager hands has tened to receive them. Mr. Charles Belwood, son of the pro prietor of the pit, whose residence was not far distant, had just arrived, simultaneously with Mr. Thornhill, a surgeon, his father's most intimate friend. They approached the cage as the inanimate form of Milli cent, raised by four stalwart men, was borne on to the pit-heap. Rollin and Whittaker, revived by the fresh air, were able, with a little assistance, to stagger out on their feet.

" I am afraid she is dead," said Mr. Thornhill, turning very pale, for he was a hasty, impetuous man, powerfully affected by any excitement; "but let the women put her in the bath. You have the water hot, I suppose, Mr. Phipps, have you not?" " Yes, sir; blankets and everything are laid out; but I fear it's no use." " It's that good-looking girl, isn't it, Phipps?" asked Charles Belwood, with a slight appearance of interest, as Thornhill followed the body into the engine-house. " She certainly is good-looking, sir, and a quiet, well-behaved girl, far too delicate for this work," replied Phipps. " I kept her employed above here as long as I could, but was obliged to send her down at last, as I found the people were talking about it." " What a confounded bore that it has happened so !" rejoined the young gentle man.

" Do her parents work for us?" " She is an orphan, sir. Her father was killed going down the shaft, and her mother, who was always a very weakly woman, broke a blood-vessel at the sift ings, lifting a weight of coal, and died soon after. This is why I have indulged her a little." " If you had told me this, I should have done something better for her," said Charles Belwood, who, indeed, without possessing such information, had previ ously determined, on grounds purely per sonal, to provide otherwise for the girl. " It's exceedingly vexatious — quite a scandal, really, Phipps, when she has such a claim upon us! I suppose I must wait here now, tdl we see how it ends. Have you got anything to show me ?" " There is a specimen from the new seam of coal, sir, if you would like to see it." " Oh, dear, no ! on no account !

I abhor seams, and would not seem so unseemly as to pry into one just now, if it yielded white diamonds instead of black." And he smiled at his little wit. " See how he's laughin'," observed Tom Sewel, a bandsman, in the crowd. " That's the way as the masters do, when we lose our lives — they come down and laughs." " Let 'un laugh if he will," said Dod Stukeley, a well-grown trap-girl, whose face, denuded of grime and coal-dust, would have been thought far from un comely, although marked with a sinis ter expression. " Whoy shouldn't him ? Thou'd laugh, too, if thee had the jingo, and a bonny face loike he." " You hold your sarce, will 'ee ?" « No, I sha'n't." " If thou don't, I'd soon make 'ee." "Do, Tom," said on old banksman. " Her's wanted takin' down a peg for a good bit, and if thou don't do't, some other body will.

There's no bearin wi' her of late." " I never see such a one for lookin' arter the chaps," observed a woman, with arms a-kimbo. "Her'll be wantin' the master to take on wi' her next, but he'll have summut else to do, I suppose." " Thou'd best moind you don't get summut yourself," muttered Doll. " Come, thou be off," cried Tom Sewel, giving her a shove. " You keep your mauls off, will 'ee ?" said Doll, assuming a warhke attitude. " Here 1 Jem !" " Well !" growled Black Jem. " What be up now ?" " Take she off, or I'll gie her a good tuzzlin' — that's all," answered the aroused Sewel. " I'd just loike to see ony one mell on her," returned Jem. " Her don't mean nowght, though her be a bit bouncy ; and while I be by, no chap shall knock her about. But thou'd best be a bit civil, wench, I tell 'ee."

The young virago muttered some reply, but thought it prudent not to push the discussion further, and the signs of war subsided. Soon afterwards, Mr. Thornhill came out of the engine-house, and Charles Bel wood advanced to meet him. "Well, doctor, what is it? — life or death ?" he asked. " Oh ! she's alive !" answered Thorn hill, loud enough for the general ear. " With proper care, she will soon get over it." " Stash me, I be glad on't," said Black Jem, amidst a buzz of satisfaction. " What odds do it make to thou, I should loike to know?" said Doll Stukeley to Jem. " You be always arter she, but you won't get no furder by it, I know." " There, hold your gab, do," said Jem, turning away, with hands thrust in his pockets. " How ever did you get such a girl into your pit, Mr. Phipps?" asked Thorn hill.