Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  Mary meditated for a moment, and then replied—” In the first instance, if you and Mrs. Bell will permit it, we shall go to your house in the same manner as before, only carrying with us a small travelling-trunk or so, such as would be necessary if we were going to pass a week with you. On the following morning we would set off by the coach, in which you will secure places for us. At we will order dinner and beds, like any other travellers, and inquire of the waiter what will be the best way of getting a sight of the factories.”

  “And he will tell you that such and such factories — naming precisely those in which there would not be the slightest chance of finding the, boy — may be seen by application made to Mr. So-and-so,” said Mr. Bell.

  Mary coloured, and seemed about to answer him; but, either from consciousness that she had nothing very satisfactory to reply, or because she had some notion in her head not sufficiently digested to communicate, she changed her purpose, and instead of combating an objection which seemed almost fatal, drew from her pocket a set of little ivory tablets, on which she had written the names of all the establishments within a distance of twenty miles, notorious for taking apprentices, and of retaining them by means that converted the scene of their labour into a most strict and wretched prison-house. She read their names aloud. “These, I think, were all you mentioned to me?” said she. “I think they were,” replied Mr. Bell. “But to these, believe me, you will get no admission as a visiter.”

  “Will you admit me as a visiter, if I come to you the day after tomorrow, Mrs. Bell?” said the heiress, playfully, and apparently wishing to wave any further discussion of her projects.

  “Most joyfully!” was the kind and hospitable reply.

  “Then, for the rest we must trust to chance. And now, if you will let me, I will show you my pretty garden,” said Miss Brotherton, rising, and taking from a chair by the open window the ever-ready shawl and parasol, which made her lawns and shrubberies essentially a part of her dwelling-place. “Of all the fine things I possess, I believe I am only truly thankful for this,” she continued, “I hardly know how I should pass my life if I had not a garden.”

  The garden was indeed one that spoke of its owner’s love, by a multitude of enjoyable nooks that seemed all courting her approach, and by that perfection of elegant neatness which is never found in an equal degree where the mistress is indifferent respecting it. To her new friends’ praises of all this she listened with pleasure, and sketched many pleasant plans for future meetings, when they should not, as they declared unavoidable now, remain only while their horse was resting. But Mary said not a word more on the subject of her purposed expedition till the very moment of their departure, and then it was only to remind them that they would see her come with her friend to claim their promised hospitality on the next day but one. This was received with renewed promises of a joyful welcome, and so they parted.

  The next day was a busy one for Mary. In the first place she was closeted for at least two hours after breakfast with Mrs. Tremlett, and, whatever might be the subject of their conversation, it appeared to end satisfactorily, for when it was over Mary embraced her old friend very cordially, saying, “I feel more grateful, much more grateful, than I have words to express, nurse Tremlett, and never shall I forget your kindness to me!”

  After this they drove to the entrance of Hoxley-lane, and walked thence to pay a farewell visit to Mrs. Armstrong; and here it was evident that, however wild the projects might be which the heiress had conceived, she knew how to be discreetly silent concerning them, for after bestowing upon the widow a gratuity sufficient to supply all her wants for a longer time than she purposed to be absent, she took leave of her, saying, “You will not see me again Mrs. Armstrong for a week or more, I am engaged to go from home for that time; but I shall take care that Edward shall receive as much attention at the school as if I were at home. Be sure also, that my absence will not make me the less mindful of Michael. Neither at home or abroad shall I cease to employ every means in my power to obtain intelligence concerning him.”

  To Edward, whom she visited at the school, she gave the same assurance, adding an earnest injunction that he should keep in mind the necessity of exerting himself, both for the industrious prosecution of his studies, and the not less important regulation of his mind on the subject of his brother’s absence, the welfare of his mother greatly depending upon both. Weakness of every kind seemed to vanish before the powerful stimulant thus offered, and she left her little protégé comforted and invigorated by the belief that he had a great duty to perform, and that his mother was the object of it.

  The preparations for her own and her friends’ convenience during the journey were very simple, but they puzzled her maid considerably. First, it was so very odd that she should be going out upon a visit and take absolutely no dinner dresses at all with her; and secondly, it was, if possible, odder still, that she should not take her. But Mary listened to all the hints and innuendoes to which these feelings gave rise with a sort of gentle indifference, which was doubtless very provoking, till at length she was induced to damp the curiosity, which she feared might prove inconveniently active during her absence, by saying, “I am going to visit the family of a clergyman, Morgan, and, as much dress will not be necessary, I shall not want you.”

  This was perfectly satisfactory. “A clergyman’s family, where much dress would not be necessary, was where the lady’s maid never did nor never could want to go.”

  Nothing could have been more judicious than these explanatory words. They accorded perfectly with the report of the servants who attended the carriage, and so completely satisfied the household, that, though it was the first absence of so long duration that she had made from her home since she became mistress of it, it fortunately led to no gossipings whatever.

  We must not pause to describe the pleasant sociable evening passed by our travellers at the house of Mr. Bell, nor even relate all that was said in the course of it, concerning the expedition they were about to undertake. Every instruction, every hint which Mr. Bell believed might be useful, he gave clearly and succinctly, and not a word of it was lost upon Mary.

  CHAPTER XXII.

  MISS BROTHERTON SETS OFF ON HER TRAVELS, AND FEELS FRIGHTENED AT HER OWN TEMERITT — BUT SPEEDILY RECOVERS HER COURAGE, AND PLATS THE HEROINE — SHE VISITS SOME FACTORIES, AND IS INTRODUCED TO A SUNDAY-SCHOOL — SHE APPROACHES THE PRECINCTS OF THE DEEP VALLET.

  IT was about nine o’clock on a bright autumn morning that Miss Brotherton and her faithful nurse mounted into a lumbering six-inside vehicle, bound for. Their two small trunks, with “Mrs. Tremlett, passenger” modestly written on both, were safely lodged on the top; Mr. Bell gave them a silent blessing and a silent nod; the horseboy vociferated “all right,” and the richest young lady in Lancashire rolled off, very literally in search of adventures.

  The novelty of her situation, and of her sensations of every kind, the unceremonious examination bestowed upon her by a smart young clerk who sat opposite, the anxious look of Mrs. Tremlett’s usually tranquil face, and the consciousness that the enterprise she was upon must even by herself be characterized as wildly, extravagant, if not carried through with much steady courage and discretion, altogether produced a feeling of oppression on her heart that very nearly overcame her. “Am I acting rightly in thus exposing myself?” was the question that her startled nerves suggested: and had her conscience been unable to answer it boldly and promptly, her condition would have been really pitiable. Happily, however, this was not the case. There was some feminine timidity about Mary Brotherton, but not an atom of false shame or affectation of any kind. “Yes! — I am right!” was the answer recorded on her heart of hearts, “and shame to me if I shrink at the first step, for no better reason than because the dust flies, and a vulgar young man stares me in the face.”

  From that moment Mary recoiled no more; and a little resolute meditation on her object, and of the strength demanded to obtain it, so effectually restored her usual self-possessi
on, that she looked round upon her fellow-travellers with as little embarrassment as if she had been used to travel in public all her life, nodded to Mrs. Tremlett with an encouraging smile, and thought how very silly people were who fancied that every thing unusual must of necessity be terrible.

  “Are you going all the way to, miss?” said a goodnatured-looking woman who sat bodkin between the smart clerk and Mrs. Tremlett.

  “Yes, ma’am, I am,” replied Mary, civilly.

  The good-natured woman twisted herself round to reconnoitre Mrs. Tremlett.

  “Your mamma, I suppose, my dear?”

  “No, ma’am — the lady is a friend!”

  “Oh! I ask your pardon; you are so very much alike made me say it.”

  Mary bowed — Mrs. Tremlett smiled.

  The goodnatured-looking woman persevered in the same train of pertinent observation, sometimes addressed to one passenger, and sometimes to another, so as to prevent the party from sinking into total silence, which might otherwise, perhaps, have happened. But Mary bore her share in this trifling annoyance with perfect good-humour; and when at length they arrived at, and Mrs. Tremlett asked her in rather piteous accents, the moment they were alone together, whether she did not feel dreadfully worn out, she cheerfully replied, “Not the least in the world, my dear friend.”

  “Thank God!” replied the old woman, fervently, “I know you do so hate to be bothered, Mary, that I was afraid that old fool would put you out of all patience.”

  “Times are altered with me now, nurse Tremlett,” replied Mary; “I have left off living for myself, and I feel my temper improving already by it. Now, then, ring the bell, and give your orders; remember, nurse, you are the great lady, and must order every thing.”

  Encouraged by this cheerful submission to circumstances, which was in truth somewhat more than she expected, Mrs. Tremlett began to think that Mary might indeed prove capable of carrying through the scheme, the first sketch of which had appeared so wild, that nothing short of a devotion to her will, which knew no bounds, could have surmounted her averseness to it.

  “My darling child!” cried the old woman, looking at her with equal admiration and delight, “your mind is as strong as your heart is tender, and never will I again oppose my silly ignorance to any thing you wish to do.”

  It was not difficult in this first stage of their expedition to follow exactly the plan that had been laid down. The two ladies professed themselves to be travellers, anxious to see all objects of curiosity, and particularly the factories, which were, as they observed, so famous throughout all the world. The master of the hotel where they lodged exerted himself with the utmost civility to gratify so natural a desire, and Mrs. Tremlett and Mary were accordingly promenaded, on the following morning, through one of the largest establishments of the town. It is probable, from the drowsiness of the public mind on the subject, that many travelling strangers who are in like manner led by a skilful official through the various floors of a factory, retire from the spectacle they present without having any feeling of sympathy excited by the cursory glance they have thrown over the silent unobtrusive little beings, one moment of whose unchanging existence they have been permitted to witness. It is the vast, the beautiful, the elaborate machinery by which they were surrounded that called forth all their attention, and all their wonder. The uniform ceaseless movement, sublime in its sturdy strength and unrelenting activity, drew every eye, and rapt the observer’s mind in boundless admiration of the marvellous power of science! No wonder that along every line a score of noiseless children toiled, unthought of, after the admirable machine. Strangers do not visit factories to look at them; it is the triumphant perfection of British mechanism which they come to see, it is of that they speak, of that they think, of that they boast when they leave the life-consuming process behind them. The more delicate, and (alas!) living springs by which the GREAT ARTIFICER has given movement to the beings made in his own image, are not worth a thought the while. The scientific speculator sees nothing to excite his intellectual acumen in them; he hardly knows that they are there, but gazes with enthusiasm and almost reverence on the myriads of whirling spindles amidst which they breathe their groans, unheeded, and unheard.

  But it was not thus that Mary won her way through the whirling hissing world of machinery into which she now entered for the first time in her life. The hot and tainted atmosphere seemed to weigh upon her spirits, as well as upon her lungs, and the weary aspect of the Drakes, and the failing joints of Edward Armstrong became fearfully intelligible as she watched the children (and she watched nothing else) who dragged their attenuated limbs along. Then it was that Mr. Bell’s tremendous statement of the number of suffering beings thus employed came with full force upon her mind. She would have given years of existence at that moment, could she have believed it false. Two hundred thousand little creatures, created by the abounding mercy of God, with faculties for enjoyment so perfect, that no poverty short of actual starvation can check their joy so long as innocence and liberty be left them! Two hundred thousand little creatures, for whose freedom from toil during their tender years the awful voice of nature has gone forth, to be snatched away, living and feeling, from the pure air of heaven, while the beautiful process is going on by which their delicate fabric gradually strengthens into maturity, — taken for ever from all with which their Maker has surrounded them for the purpose of completing his own noblest work — taken and lodged amidst stench and stunning, terrifying tumult, — driven to and fro, till their little limbs bend under them — hour after hour, day after day — the repose of a moment to be purchased only by yielding their tender bodies to the fist, the heel, or the strap of the overlooker! All this rushed together upon poor Mary’s heart and soul, and, turning deadly pale, she seized the arm of her friend to save herself from falling.

  “Terrible hot day!” roared their conductor, in the hideous scream by which some human voices can battle successfully with the din of machinery.

  Fortunately, they were near the door of the room, and Mrs. Tremlett, urging her steps forward, now brought her to an open window outside it. The fresh air, so carefully excluded within, soon revived her: the colour returned to her lips, and having remained silently in haling the breeze for another minute or two, she signified her wish to proceed.

  “Not now, Mary! Pray, not now!” said the frightened Mrs. Tremlett. “Indeed, indeed, you have not strength for it!”

  Mary gave her one steady look, and the opposition ceased; for it said as plainly as look could speak—” Is it thus that I shall find Michael Armstrong?”

  “For a moment I felt the heat oppressive,” said Miss Brotherton, in a voice of very steady composure. “But I am quite sure the sensation will not return. I came to on purpose to see the factories, my dear friend, and, indeed, you must not disappoint me.”

  “The young lady’s right,” replied their conductor. “She’ll never see the like of our mills, you may depend upon that. Why all the machinery in the known world put all together won’t equal one of our spinning-mills. There is nothing in creation to compare to it; and I don’t question but the young lady heard as much before she come. So it would be altogether wrong to disappoint her of the sight of ’em.”

  “Thank you,” said Mary. “Are we to go up stairs now?”

  “Yes, if you please, miss. We have got seven stories here, and, thank God, all is busy just now, one as the other, from the bottom to the top.”

  On entering the second room Mary felt, as she expected, that her bodily strength was quite sufficient to sustain her. She had not habituated herself to “seek the sun upon the upland lawn,” for nothing. Few girls so lapped in luxury could boast of equal vigour and activity. The first aspect of the system (the horrors of which had been so clearly explained to her) in action, was for a moment overwhelming — but it was past — the terrible “premier pas” could not come again, and far from shrinking from the task she had imposed upon herself, she left the enormous fabric, after having perseveringl
y mounted to its summit, with the satisfactory conviction that she should not fail in her enterprise either from want of strength, or from want of will.

  Good Mrs. Tremlett, however, still felt less confident upon the subject, and no sooner found herself tête-à-tète with her young mistress within the shelter of their drawing-room, than she said, “You will never stand it, Miss Mary! — feeling about it all as you do — the sight of those poor ragged, sickly little souls will be the death of you.”

  “Then so let me die, dear nurse!” replied Mary. “If I have not vigour enough both of mind and body to be in some degree useful, I should hardly think it worth while to live; but I know myself better, nurse Tremlett. I turned sick and giddy, I confess, on entering that first room, but it is my friend, Mr. Bell, who has to answer for it. The impressions received at that moment by my senses served as a specimen of all the horrors he had described to me. The account I had heard enabled me at a glance to comprehend the scene before me, while that scene itself acted back again, as it were, upon my memory, making me understand, a thousand times more clearly than before, all the frightful details he had given me. The effect of this was overpowering, but it cannot return upon me again in the same manner; I am already hardened. Think therefore no more of me, dear friend, but let us cogitate together upon the likeliest way of turning all such visits to account.”

  This cogitation led them both to the conclusion that it might, for the sake of appearances, be as well to take the landlord’s recommendation to another of the establishments, usually pointed out to the attention of strangers, and then to consult the ivory tablets, and venture upon a visit to the only one near “‘named therein, as notorious for the reception of apprentices.

  In pursuance of this plan, the waiter was again interrogated when he attended the ladies at their luncheon, and again he brought a written address from his master, accompanied by a message intimating that the following morning being Sunday, the ladies might have the advantage of visiting the Sunday-school attached to the factory, for which he had given the address, to a sight of which they would be admitted without difficulty, if they would make known their wishes for such admission to the person who would show them the factory.