Read here

A Man without a Name: a tale, edited by the Dowager Countess of Morley

Frances Parker · 1852 · Scanned text

108,492 words · about 7 h 36 min to read

Period artwork: Interior of the Bodleian Library, 1845
About this edition

Scanned text — may contain errors · original scans are not available here · view the original source

Licence: PDM · British Library Digitised Books dataset db14 (doi 10.21250/db14) marks the OCR texts CC Public Domain Mark 1.0 (c. 1510-c. 1900 publications); text+metadata JSONL release doi 10.23636/r7w6-zy15 is CC0 1.0. Public Domain Mark is a status label, not a new copyright licence. · Digitised by the British Library (with Microsoft). Text: British Library Digitised Books, CC Public Domain Mark 1.0.

Text from British Library, read from page scans by OCR and set out for reading on screen; no words of the book are rewritten or summarized. How RedLectern is built

About this book

Author
Frances Parker
Language
English
Published
1852
Length
108,492 words · about 7 h 36 min
Sections
26 reader sections
Text
Scanned text, read from page scans by OCR; may contain errors
Rights
Public Domain Mark 1.0

 

Contents (26)
  1. Chapter I about 6 min
  2. Chapter II about 17 min
  3. Chapter III about 15 min
  4. Chapter IV about 7 min
  5. Chapter V about 19 min
  6. Chapter VI about 16 min
  7. Chapter VII about 25 min
  8. Chapter VIII about 15 min
  9. Chapter IX about 14 min
  10. Chapter X about 28 min
  11. Chapter XII about 19 min
  12. Chapter XIII about 28 min
  13. Chapter XV about 8 min
  14. Chapter XVI about 20 min
  15. Chapter I about 29 min
  16. Chapter III about 20 min
  17. Chapter IV about 25 min
  18. Chapter V about 14 min
  19. Chapter VI about 22 min
  20. Chapter VII about 17 min
  21. Chapter VIII about 22 min
  22. Chapter IX about 16 min
  23. Chapter X about 22 min
  24. Chapter XII about 14 min
  25. Chapter XIII about 11 min
  26. Chapter XIV about 7 min

Continue:

Chapter I

Syr Cauline loveth her best of all, But nothing durst he say, Ne descreeve his counsel to any man, But dearlie he lovde this May. Old Ballad. It was a fine autumn evening in the year 18 — , and the little town of Allerton was alive with pleasant excitement. Mr. Hardy, the proprietor of large coal pits in the neighbourhood, and owner of most of the houses in the town, had lately built a handsome church and schools for the advantage of the families in his employment. The church had this day been consecrated, and an entertainment provided VOL. I. B for the children who were in future to attend the schools. The whole population of Allerton was assembled in a large play -ground, where Mr. Hardy, with some of his friends, was looking on at the various athletic sports Avhich had succeeded to an extraordinary consumption of beef and plum-pudding.

A stranger would have found but little beauty in the scene beyond the beauty of happy faces : nature had not done much for Al lerton, and man still less. It is true that there were no black chimneys actually in sight, that the houses were not all roofed Avith glaring red tiles, that the church and schools Avere well designed, and that there AA-as a river of very tolerable dimensions close at hand. But then the chimneys, if not visible, gave a murky tinge to the atmosphere — the houses, if not all red, Avere all ugly — the church Avas too new to be in teresting, and the river floAved between such steep banks that it could only be discovered by one Avho stood on those banks. There Avere no trees, and the cheerless black roads ran straight from point to point, between scanty thorn-hedges through Avhich a resolute sheep could have forced its way without much difficulty.

No, there was nothing to attract a stranger's eye. Those who were assembled on the evening recorded, however, had been too long accustomed to the scene to feel its want of beauty, and the children shouted as joyously, the mothers talked as comfort ably, the spectators looked on Avith as much satisfaction, as if the level rays of the even ing sun gleamed upon forests, lakes, and mountains, instead of only casting long shadoAvs upon the trodden grass, and light ing up the windows of Mr. Hardy's square unpicturesque house, which stood on the opposite bank of the river. " Well, brother," said a little active old maid, bustling up to Mr. Hardy, " I hope you are satisfied. Everything has gone off B well for once. There were too many plum puddings, in spite of all I could say— and little Tom Giles Avould have had a bit in his pocket in a moment if I had not looked round just in time, but still it all did very AA-ell, and I am sure, if the people ever join in a strike again, they Avill be the most ungrateful wretches!

" "The plum-puddings and the gratitude Avill probably last about equally long," ansAvered her brother ; " if the latter en dures until the former is digested, I shall be quite satisfied. Gratitude is the last thing any sensible man expects from his fellow creatures." Miss Jane Hardy looked surprised. "Then why do you put yourself to all this expense ? " asked she. " For my OAvn sake, principally. I do not choose to be Avanting in any of the duties of proprietorship, and it shall not be my fault if my people turn out ill. I be lieve they will derive benefit from these schools ; they ought to do so. Improve ment I look for after many years, gratitude never." " I believe you would be nearer the fact if you did not look for improvement at all," said Mr. Marshall, a neighbouring coal owner. " I cannot say I expect anything from all this fuss about education.

If you could keep your men from reading mischie vous publications, well and good, but you cannot, and their heads are filled with the wildest nonsense. I declare I would rather trust to gratitude than to book-learning." " We shall see," answered Mr. Hardy. "Yes, we shall see," returned his friend. " When a strike comes you will be no better off than I." "Give me a little time, Marshall. If these men Avere really educated — mind, I do not call mere reading, writing, and arith metic, education — if they were really educated, they would see that our interests must be identical, and they would reject the false reasoning of the delegates who now mislead and excite them. It Avill take years to do this, but, once done, I shall be much better off than you." " Meanwhile my men do not complain ; Ave are on capital terms, and as I always tell Johnson when he tries to persuade me to adopt your neAV ways, they do not give me half the trouble yours give you."

" I AA'ish, however, that you Avould let me induce you to folloAv Mr. Hardy's valuable example," said Edward Johnson, a young man of about four-and-twenty, who had not yet spoken. " The present system has done well enough for many years, and I dare say it Avill last my time." " But has it done well, Mr. Marshall ? that is the very question," asked Mary Hardy; "or even if it has, could nothing have done better ? " " I am not going to argue with you, Miss Mary," answered Mr. Marshall, good humouredly. " I believe you are at the bottom of all the mischief; you have turned Edward Johnson's head completely." " I am glad I have turned it in so good a direction," rejoined Mary smiling, as she left them to speak to her aunt. " It is quite true, Hardy ; your daughter has turned that young man's head.

Just look at them now." " Nonsense," replied Mr. Hardy, angrily ; " he cannot have the presumption to admire Mary." "I do not know that there is any very great presumption in admiring what is ad mirable ; but if there is, he is guilty of it. Mark my words." " You spoil that young fellow, Marshall, by bringing him forward so much. You converse with him quite on equal terms. " And why should I not ? " asked Mr. Marshall, Avith his usual good humour. " With a youth who comes nobody knows Avhence, and belongs nobody knows to Avhom ! A foundling, picked up in the street, perhaps." " I don't think foundlings are in the habit of being brought up by clergymen, or of having a fair fortune left them, as Win stead says my young friend has." " Your young friend," repeated Mr. Hardy, Avith something of a sneer.

" My young friend," reiterated Mr. Mar shall, quietly; "although I do not know his parentage." "Well, well, it does not matter to me. Call him what you please; I dare say he Avill make you a good clerk if you do not spoil him ; and noAv pray let us talk of the puppy no more." " He is not a puppy, but a very intelli gent, good-looking, gentleman-like young man," answered Mr. Marshall, roused at length by his companion's slighting man ner: "a clerk, indeed! he is much more fit to be my partner." " Anything you will," replied Mr. Hardy, A MAN AVITHOUT A NAME. impatiently ; " but I must beg you not to couple his name Avith my daughter's ! " And the conversation dropped. That evening Mary Hardy and her aunt were discussing the events of the day, but Mr. Hardy took no part in their conver sation.

His sister, at length observing his silence, said, " Your father seems worn out, Mary, my dear, so I will get my bonnet and clogs and step home, that you may both go to bed. I shall be glad enough of a rest myself, after toiling and slaving so all day. And noAv to hear your father say that it will all do no good. Really men are — and Mr. Marshall says we did just as well before ; and that young friend of his, looked ready to laugh when I said the people could never strike after the plum puddings. A conceited upstart ! When will he do as much good as your father, I wonder ! " Aunt Jane was out of breath with indignation. " Oh ! my dear aunt, you quite misunder- B stood him," said Mary, speaking eagerly, but without embarrassment. " Mr. Johnson ad mires papa's improvements beyond everything, and only wants to learn from him.

He takes the greatest interest in the school, and has promised to show me how Mr. Winstead's Avas managed." " We can do Aery well without his help," said Mr. Hardy, Avho had seemed asleep until that moment. " Mary, get your aunt's cloak."

Chapter II

Look, as I blow this feather from my face, And as the air blows it to me again, Commanded always by the greater gust ; Such is the lightness of your common men. Shakspeare. Mr. Hardy had gone to bed with a strong resolution to keep Mr. Edward John son as much as possible out of his house. Though not much given to change his mind he found it impossible in this instance to act up to his determination. Mr. Marshall was by nature indolent and liked to have some one to think and act for him ; he had perfect confidence in his young friend, whose intelligence and acti vity relieved him of much care, and by degrees he suffered the whole management of his affairs to fall into Edward's hands, so A MAN AVITHOUT A NAME. 12 that not only was his presence necessary at the frequent conferences which resulted from the common interests of the two pro prietors, but business brought him constantly alone to Allerton.

His quiet unobtrusiA-e manner ended by putting to rest the unwelcome suspicions aAvakened on the evening of tbe merry making, and Mr. Hardy returned to his former opinion that the young man could not dare to raise his eyes to the daughter of one so far above him, and the heiress of Allerton House. The position that EdAvard occupied was a singular one. He had been brought up by an old friend of Mr. Marshall's, of the name of Winstead, a clergyman. It was supposed that this gentleman kneAv more of EdAvard's birth than the rest of the world, but if this was the case he kept his own counsel, and it was given out that the child on whom he lavished every attention, was the son of parents Avho had died abroad, leaving him sole guardian, Avith poAver to dispose of the sum provided for maintenance and education, in Avhatever manner should appear to him to be most advantageous.

Edward had accordingly been carefully educated. His fortune was not sufficient to warrant an idle life, eAren had his guardian wished to inflict such a misfortune upon him : and some inquiries had been made Avith a vieAv to placing the young man in a merchant's house, where he might have risen from the situation of clerk to that of partner, when Mr. Marshall, who had known him from a boy, came forward, offered to take him as secretary, and promised that if he exerted himself no pains should be spared to push him forward. As we have seen Edward did exert himself, and few of his age possessed more practical and scientific knowledge of all relating to the working of coal, and the management of pits. Notwithstanding his success, and Mr. Marshall's kindness, the mystery that attached to his birth, exposed the young man to many annoyances, of Avhich he was painfully susceptible, and Avhich produced a not altogether favourable effect upon his character.

EdAvard's influence over Mr. Marshall was great, but he found it impossible to introduce into his management of either men or things the improvements AA'hich his clear and unpre judiced intellect told him Avere most desir able. Mr. Marshall Avas personally popular : his kind manner and indulgent temper were sure to make him so, and perseverance in old ways is generally more acceptable to the uneducated classes than any interrup tion, however beneficial, of the routine to which they have been long accustomed. At the same time no men Avere so easily Avrought upon as those of Mr. Marshall by the appeals of any unquiet spirit, owing partly to their ignorance, partly to the abuses Avhich were suffered to exist amoncr them. A MAN AVITHOUT A NAME. Mr. Hardy's conduct was in every respect the contrary of his neighbour's, for while he spared no pains and no expense to ame liorate the condition of his people, he never condescended to explain to them his motives, but seemed to do what was right by them, more for his own sake than for theirs.

It is not, therefore, surprising that he failed to obtain the success Avhich his actions in themselves deserved. Much discontent prevailed at this time in the north of England, and many coal-owners looked with anxiety to the spring Avhen the demand for coals would slacken and wages must consequently fall. Nor Avere these fears without foundation. All went on quietly for some months after the scene described in our opening chapter; but no sooner did the slackening demand lead to an attempt to reduce wages, than a combi nation was formed by which the men re stricted themselves to the performance of a small amount of work, and that at an exorbitant rate. Among the first to join were the pitmen in the employment of Messrs. Hardy and Marshall. With characteristic promptness of deci sion, Mr. Hardy lost no time in bringing fresh hands from a distance to Avork his pits, and stimulated by his example, to say nothing of Edward's zeal, Mr. Marshall for once acted with equal energy.

The inhabitants of Allerton and of the neighbouring A'illages found themselves obliged to make way for the new-comers. Exasperated at this and at the distress and A\ant which would not long be staved off by assistance from the funds of the association, or by the small and long-cherished hoards which some had accumulated in the Savings' Bank, excitement rose to such a height among the men as to occasion serious alarm. The neAv hands were waylaid and beaten on their way to work, their tools stolen or destroyed, their wives and children annoyed and tormented in eA'ery possible way. The next step was to demolish the machinery, and a rumour gained ground that it was intended to attack the houses of the more resolute proprietors, in order to compel them to give Avay. It was considered necessary to send for a military force, but so general were disturbances at that moment that the requisition could not be immediately com plied with.

Such Avas the position of affairs when one morning, as he sat in his study, Mr. Hardy was surprised by the sudden entrance of his daughter with a pale and anxious face. " I think you had better make some preparations for defence, papa," she said ; " the play-ground opposite is thronged with men Avho are forming in a regular body. They have a number of banners, and seem to be guided by a leader, who is now haranguing them." Mr. Hardy rose hastily, ordered all the shutters of the lower rooms to be closed, the gates and doors locked. This done he despatched a messenger with orders to warn Mr. Marshall of the approaching danger, and then to hasten to the nearest town for aid. In a very few minutes the servant returned with the intelligence that detached bodies of pitmen occupied the roads, and allowed no one to pass.

Mr. Hardy looked anxiously at his daugh ter. There were but feAv men in the house, and, although he could provide them with fire-arms, there was no hope of maintaining a successful resistance for any length of time. " I wish you Avere Avith your aunt, Mary," he said ; " her cottage is much safer at this moment. Would it be possible to make your way to it?" " I would much rather stay here," an swered Mary, Avhose composure emulated her father's ; " I do not want to be in your way, but I cannot leave you now." " I believe it is too late. You must remain up stairs at least. You will be safer there for the present." " Do you not think that by speaking to these men you might bring them to reason ?" Mr. Hardy shook his head. " If I speak to them, it will be only with a view of gaining time. There is little chance of their listening to me at all, still less of truth and common sense having any effect upon them, while their minds are in such an infuriated state.

But let us look out from the upper windows ; we shall see more, and be able to judge better what numbers are coming against us." The sight that met their eyes was sufficiently alarming. It has been already said that the river ran between Mr. Hardy's house and the town. This was crossed by a bridge a little to the right, and over the bridge were now steadily marching, the men whom Mary had observed collecting together, while the playground which occupied the bank opposite to Mr. Hardy's garden was crowded with Avomen and children, whose shouts were apparently intended to animate the advancing body. The roads, as the messenger had stated, were guarded, and all communication cut off. Mr. Marshall's house and grounds were visible from the position Mary and her father now held, but a moment's glance showed that no help could be expected from that quarter, as it was also in a state of siege.

Mr. Hardy, in the absence of any means of defence, resolved upon making an attempt to come to terms Avith the men. It was against his natural disposition, but he saw no alternative, and he accordingly left the room, and again Avent down stairs. Mary folloAved, anxiously asking what he was about to do. " I am going to speak to these people," he answered, adding sternly, " Stay, Avhere you are ; if you were only safe they should burn the house down before I gave way." Mary was alarmed at the idea of her father facing the discontented multitude alone, but knoAA'ing that it would be vain to remonstrate, she returned in silence to the windoAv they had just left, and Avatched anxiously for what should happen next. The iron gates which separated the grounds of Allerton from the main road Avere now surrounded by the pitmen, and there was a look of determination in the slow movements of their black stalwart forms which filled her Avith terror.

In a few moments Mr. Hardy left the house, and Mary's heart beat almost as much with pride as AAdth fear, when she saw him go out alone and advance towards the gates with his usual calm and dignified step. There had been a burst of execration when he was first recognised, but it quickly subsided as he drew nearer and looked round him with haughty fearlessness. Passing through the iron gates he suffered the spring lock to close behind him, thus adding what he could to the slight defences of the house. Mary was at too great a distance to hear what passed ; it seemed to her that a paper was presented to Mr. Hardy, and that he attempted to address the crowd upon its contents. Apparently they were unable to hear him, for the next movement was towards a grass-field between the road and the river, Avhere stood an empty waggon, upon Avhich, as upon a temporary platform, she presently saw her father mounted.

He Avas listened to for a time with tolerable attention, and Mary, trusting fondly to his eloquence, began to think all would be well, Avhen suddenly the patience of the audience appeared to giA'e way, shouts and cries were borne to her reluctant ear, the crowd swayed to and fro like an unquiet sea, and then a storm of IioavIs, of yells, and of hisses drowned the speaker's A-oice. A slight active man, evidently not one of the pitmen, sprung upon the platform, and by his gestures Mary could judge the impassioned nature of his harangue. He carried his hearers Avith him, clubs Avere brandished, banners waved, and admiring cheers told how Avell he had succeeded in touching the string to Avhich those rude natures vibrated. When at length they seemed worked up to the desired pitch of fury, the orator leaped down, and point ing to the house moved forward, with the Avhole body tumultuously folloAving as if to the attack.

Mary had lost sight of her father, and her agony lest he should be throAvn down and trampled under foot became almost intolerable. At this moment screams arose above the tumult ; they were from the Avomen on the opposite bank. The advancing body paused, the tide turned, and in another in stant, impelled by curiosity and alarm, all were crowding back eagerly to the brink of the ravine in Avhich the river flowed. Mary could control herself no longer and rushed into the garden, which was separated from the field in question by an iron railing and deep ditch. To her great joy she saw her father safe, but like the rest, absorbed by some new interest ; anxious to ascertain what this might be, she also advanced, and concealing herself in a small summer-house, found that she could from thence command the scene of action.

To explain AA'hat had happened we must retrace our steps. Mr. Marshall had received notice of the intended attack upon both their houses somewhat earlier in the day tban Mr. Hardy; he too had sought to make use of the information for his own security and that of his friend, but the precautions of the pitmen were too well taken, and his attempt to send out a messenger was equally unsuc cessful. The violence of which some of the dismissed men had been guilty towards the new-comers, made Mr. Marshall's servants shrink from any fresh attempts to execute the unpopular mission of summoning troops. but appearances became so alarming, and the necessity of knowing what course of action was likely to be pursued, and what concessions granted by other coal-owners, became so urgent, that Edward, unwilling as he was to leave his post, volunteered to make one more effort to reach H Edward's sentiments were well known in the country, and Mr. Marshall's unwonted firmness was attributed solely to him, his only chance of effecting his object lay, there fore, in his contriving to escape observation.

For this purpose, instead of leaA-ing the house by the usual way, he let himself drop from a wall at the back, slipped into the brushwood which clothed the river bank, and creeping for some distance close to the water's edge, only quitted his covert when he thought he could with safety strike across the open country, and take the shortest line toH . He accomplished his mission without much difficulty, and secured the immediate vol. I. c services of a small detachment of troops quartered in the town. Encouraged by success, he resolved on his return to convey the intelligence of approaching aid to Mr. Hardy. It is not for us to determine how much his anxiety for Miss Hardy may have helped to place this act of friendship in the light of a duty ! Edward knew that Mr. Hardy's garden overhung the bank of the river, the terrace communicating by steps with a narrow walk which led doAvn to the water, here very deep and crossed by a small foot-bridge.

It Avas the private way from Allerton House to the new church ; but as it led nowhere else, Edward thought it might haA'e been left unguarded. Should the garden door be as usual locked, he hoped by means of the iA-y, which grew up the terrace wall, to be able to effect an entrance. Leaving the open country, he again sought the friendly protection of the river bank and proceeded for some distance without adventure. Just as he reached a spot about half a mile from Allerton, where the ground was free from trees or bushes of any kind, he came suddenly upon four men ; they re cognized him instantly, but not before he had dashed past, and so obtained a little adA'antage. It Avas well he lost no time by hesitation, for the shouts of — " DoAvn with him, duck him ; he 's been for the red coats ; it 's Mar shall's man, drown the tyrant !" rang unplea santly in his ears, and the men followed in hot pursuit.

EdAvard Avas active and accustomed to ex ercise ; he bounded along over rocks and bushes, springing with light firm foot across marshy ground in which the more powerful but heavier men sank deep, and gained rapidly upon his pursuers. The steep bank and Avail Avhich he should have to face gave him some uneasiness ; but the fear of meeting fresh enemies if he emerged into the c open country, decided him upon keeping to his original plan. Allerton House was now in sight, and only one of the four men had kept up the chase : this was a youth whom Edward had been instrumental in punishing for miscon duct, and he was spurred ou by personal ill will. EdAvard thought himself safe, but as he passed under the bridge of the high road to Allerton, shouts from above told him that he Avas discovered, and the next moment he saAv, to his horror, that the small foot bridge before him was crowded with enemies.

Without pausing to think, he plunged into the river, swam across, and began the ascent of the opposite bank. The young man dashed over the bridge, his friends making way for him, and rushed to the bank, keeping above Edward, with the evident intention of hurling him back wards into the stream. For a moment it seemed as if he must succeed ; he reached a spot, when planting himself firmly, the next step would have brought Edward with in his reach; the ground was so steep and crumbling on either side that there was no escape. The cries of the women on the opposite bank ceased — all stood breathless in suspense. Suddenly, and by a desperate effort, Ed ward threw himself forward, cleared in his spring the treacherous precipice, and suc ceeded in reaching the bough of a young tree, which sustained him until he could swing himself from it on to firm ground.

At this sight the shouts and shrieks burst forth anew, and reaching the ears of the mob about to attack Mr. Hardy's house, caused them, as we have seen, to croAvd back eagerly to ascertain what called forth such demonstrations of excitement. They reached the bank just as Edward, clinging to the ivy, had grasped the parapet of the wall ; drawing himself up by his hands he was in an instant safe upon the terrace. He stopped to look back upon his baffled foe ; the young man was close behind him, his hand was on the wall, when the ivy upon which his whole weight yet hung began to give way : his struggles but increased the danger. Edward, forgetful of his own escape, leaned over the parapet in the vain hope of assisting his late foe ; he was already beyond reach ; the ivy yielded bit by bit ; there was no hold for foot or hand, and with silent dogged despair the young man fell heaA-ily backwards — a sullen splash of the deep AA'aters told what fate awaited him.

With the quickness of thought Edward threw himself over the wall, doAvn the bank he had so lately ascended with difficulty. and into the water before tbe bubbles on its surface had disappeared. There had hardly been time to know what happened when he bore to the opposite shore the dripping and helpless body of the young pitman. EdAAard was instantly surrounded by an admiring group ; the mother of the rescued man pressed up to him, and poured forth her gratitude in homely but hearty terms ; hundreds of hard black hands were held out for him to shake, and the rough faces that but now glowed with rage, were turned upon him with looks of honest good-will and approbation. Such is the sympathy of even the wildest natures with any gallant and noble action, that he found himself suddenly elevated to the rank of a hero.

The thought struck him that he might take advantage of this temporary enthusiasm to make a few words of reason heard, and to bring back the men to their duty. As soon as he could shake himself free from the congratulating crowds, and from the masculine grasp of some especially grateful women, he de manded a hearing. " Aye, aye ! hear him, hear him ! " re sounded on all sides, and a dead silence followed. The silence took Edward by surprise ; he had never made a speech in his life and his courage failed. He looked at the expectant crowd whose eyes were eagerly fixed upon him ; Avords, thoughts, understanding, all were gone, and his confusion became over powering. But his resolution was firm, and the excitement of the morning had strung his nerves ; he shook off the weakness reso lutely, and the Rubicon once passed, his ideas began to return, his words to Aoaa', till ani mated by his efforts, he Avent on with spirit and effect: he AA'as astonished at his OAvn eloquence.

The opening of the book is shown; the full text loads in the reader.

Loading the full text…