Middlemarch

CHAPTER XVII.

”The clerkly person smiled and said Promise was a pretty maid, But being poor she died unwed.”

The Rev. Camden Farebrother, whom Lydgate went to see the next evening,lived in an old parsonage, built of stone, venerable enough to matchthe church which it looked out upon. All the furniture too in thehouse was old, but with another grade of age--that of Mr. Farebrother'sfather and grandfather. There were painted white chairs, with gildingand wreaths on them, and some lingering red silk damask with slits init. There were engraved portraits of Lord Chancellors and othercelebrated lawyers of the last century; and there were old pier-glassesto reflect them, as well as the little satin-wood tables and the sofasresembling a prolongation of uneasy chairs, all standing in reliefagainst the dark wainscot. This was the physiognomy of the drawing-roominto which Lydgate was shown; and there were three ladies to receivehim, who were also old-fashioned, and of a faded but genuinerespectability: Mrs. Farebrother, the Vicar's white-haired mother,befrilled and kerchiefed with dainty cleanliness, upright, quick-eyed,and still under seventy; Miss Noble, her sister, a tiny old lady ofmeeker aspect, with frills and kerchief decidedly more worn and mended;and Miss Winifred Farebrother, the Vicar's elder sister, well-lookinglike himself, but nipped and subdued as single women are apt to be whospend their lives in uninterrupted subjection to their elders. Lydgatehad not expected to see so quaint a group: knowing simply that Mr.Farebrother was a bachelor, he had thought of being ushered into asnuggery where the chief furniture would probably be books andcollections of natural objects. The Vicar himself seemed to wearrather a changed aspect, as most men do when acquaintances madeelsewhere see them for the first time in their own homes; some indeedshowing like an actor of genial parts disadvantageously cast for thecurmudgeon in a new piece. This was not the case with Mr. Farebrother:he seemed a trifle milder and more silent, the chief talker being hismother, while he only put in a good-humored moderating remark here andthere. The old lady was evidently accustomed to tell her company whatthey ought to think, and to regard no subject as quite safe without hersteering. She was afforded leisure for this function by having all herlittle wants attended to by Miss Winifred. Meanwhile tiny Miss Noblecarried on her arm a small basket, into which she diverted a bit ofsugar, which she had first dropped in her saucer as if by mistake;looking round furtively afterwards, and reverting to her teacup with asmall innocent noise as of a tiny timid quadruped. Pray think no illof Miss Noble. That basket held small savings from her more portablefood, destined for the children of her poor friends among whom shetrotted on fine mornings; fostering and petting all needy creaturesbeing so spontaneous a delight to her, that she regarded it much as ifit had been a pleasant vice that she was addicted to. Perhaps she wasconscious of being tempted to steal from those who had much that shemight give to those who had nothing, and carried in her conscience theguilt of that repressed desire. One must be poor to know the luxury ofgiving!

Mrs. Farebrother welcomed the guest with a lively formality andprecision. She presently informed him that they were not often in wantof medical aid in that house. She had brought up her children to wearflannel and not to over-eat themselves, which last habit she consideredthe chief reason why people needed doctors. Lydgate pleaded for thosewhose fathers and mothers had over-eaten themselves, but Mrs.Farebrother held that view of things dangerous: Nature was more justthan that; it would be easy for any felon to say that his ancestorsought to have been hanged instead of him. If those who had bad fathersand mothers were bad themselves, they were hanged for that. There wasno need to go back on what you couldn't see.

”My mother is like old George the Third,” said the Vicar, ”she objectsto metaphysics.”

”I object to what is wrong, Camden. I say, keep hold of a few plaintruths, and make everything square with them. When I was young, Mr.Lydgate, there never was any question about right and wrong. We knewour catechism, and that was enough; we learned our creed and our duty.Every respectable Church person had the same opinions. But now, if youspeak out of the Prayer-book itself, you are liable to be contradicted.”

”That makes rather a pleasant time of it for those who like to maintaintheir own point,” said Lydgate.

”But my mother always gives way,” said the Vicar, slyly.

”No, no, Camden, you must not lead Mr. Lydgate into a mistake about_me_. I shall never show that disrespect to my parents, to give up whatthey taught me. Any one may see what comes of turning. If you changeonce, why not twenty times?”

”A man might see good arguments for changing once, and not see them forchanging again,” said Lydgate, amused with the decisive old lady.

”Excuse me there. If you go upon arguments, they are never wanting,when a man has no constancy of mind. My father never changed, and hepreached plain moral sermons without arguments, and was a good man--fewbetter. When you get me a good man made out of arguments, I will getyou a good dinner with reading you the cookery-book. That's my opinion,and I think anybody's stomach will bear me out.”

”About the dinner certainly, mother,” said Mr. Farebrother.

”It is the same thing, the dinner or the man. I am nearly seventy, Mr.Lydgate, and I go upon experience. I am not likely to follow newlights, though there are plenty of them here as elsewhere. I say, theycame in with the mixed stuffs that will neither wash nor wear. It wasnot so in my youth: a Churchman was a Churchman, and a clergyman, youmight be pretty sure, was a gentleman, if nothing else. But now he maybe no better than a Dissenter, and want to push aside my son onpretence of doctrine. But whoever may wish to push him aside, I amproud to say, Mr. Lydgate, that he will compare with any preacher inthis kingdom, not to speak of this town, which is but a low standard togo by; at least, to my thinking, for I was born and bred at Exeter.”

”A mother is never partial,” said Mr. Farebrother, smiling. ”What doyou think Tyke's mother says about him?”

”Ah, poor creature! what indeed?” said Mrs. Farebrother, her sharpnessblunted for the moment by her confidence in maternal judgments. ”Shesays the truth to herself, depend upon it.”

”And what is the truth?” said Lydgate. ”I am curious to know.”

”Oh, nothing bad at all,” said Mr. Farebrother. ”He is a zealousfellow: not very learned, and not very wise, I think--because I don'tagree with him.”

”Why, Camden!” said Miss Winifred, ”Griffin and his wife told me onlyto-day, that Mr. Tyke said they should have no more coals if they cameto hear you preach.”

Mrs. Farebrother laid down her knitting, which she had resumed afterher small allowance of tea and toast, and looked at her son as if tosay ”You hear that?” Miss Noble said, ”Oh poor things! poor things!”in reference, probably, to the double loss of preaching and coal. Butthe Vicar answered quietly--

”That is because they are not my parishioners. And I don't think mysermons are worth a load of coals to them.”

”Mr. Lydgate,” said Mrs. Farebrother, who could not let this pass, ”youdon't know my son: he always undervalues himself. I tell him he isundervaluing the God who made him, and made him a most excellentpreacher.”

”That must be a hint for me to take Mr. Lydgate away to my study,mother,” said the Vicar, laughing. ”I promised to show you mycollection,” he added, turning to Lydgate; ”shall we go?”

All three ladies remonstrated. Mr. Lydgate ought not to be hurriedaway without being allowed to accept another cup of tea: Miss Winifredhad abundance of good tea in the pot. Why was Camden in such haste totake a visitor to his den? There was nothing but pickled vermin, anddrawers full of blue-bottles and moths, with no carpet on the floor.Mr. Lydgate must excuse it. A game at cribbage would be far better.In short, it was plain that a vicar might be adored by his womankind asthe king of men and preachers, and yet be held by them to stand in muchneed of their direction. Lydgate, with the usual shallowness of ayoung bachelor, wondered that Mr. Farebrother had not taught thembetter.

”My mother is not used to my having visitors who can take any interestin my hobbies,” said the Vicar, as he opened the door of his study,which was indeed as bare of luxuries for the body as the ladies hadimplied, unless a short porcelain pipe and a tobacco-box were to beexcepted.

”Men of your profession don't generally smoke,” he said. Lydgatesmiled and shook his head. ”Nor of mine either, properly, I suppose.You will hear that pipe alleged against me by Bulstrode and Company.They don't know how pleased the devil would be if I gave it up.”

”I understand. You are of an excitable temper and want a sedative. Iam heavier, and should get idle with it. I should rush into idleness,and stagnate there with all my might.”

”And you mean to give it all to your work. I am some ten or twelveyears older than you, and have come to a compromise. I feed a weaknessor two lest they should get clamorous. See,” continued the Vicar,opening several small drawers, ”I fancy I have made an exhaustive studyof the entomology of this district. I am going on both with the faunaand flora; but I have at least done my insects well. We are singularlyrich in orthoptera: I don't know whether--Ah! you have got hold of thatglass jar--you are looking into that instead of my drawers. You don'treally care about these things?”

”Not by the side of this lovely anencephalous monster. I have neverhad time to give myself much to natural history. I was early bittenwith an interest in structure, and it is what lies most directly in myprofession. I have no hobby besides. I have the sea to swim in there.”

”Ah! you are a happy fellow,” said Mr. Farebrother, turning on his heeland beginning to fill his pipe. ”You don't know what it is to wantspiritual tobacco--bad emendations of old texts, or small items about avariety of Aphis Brassicae, with the well-known signature ofPhilomicron, for the 'Twaddler's Magazine;' or a learned treatise onthe entomology of the Pentateuch, including all the insects notmentioned, but probably met with by the Israelites in their passagethrough the desert; with a monograph on the Ant, as treated by Solomon,showing the harmony of the Book of Proverbs with the results of modernresearch. You don't mind my fumigating you?”

Lydgate was more surprised at the openness of this talk than at itsimplied meaning--that the Vicar felt himself not altogether in theright vocation. The neat fitting-up of drawers and shelves, and thebookcase filled with expensive illustrated books on Natural History,made him think again of the winnings at cards and their destination.But he was beginning to wish that the very best construction ofeverything that Mr. Farebrother did should be the true one. TheVicar's frankness seemed not of the repulsive sort that comes from anuneasy consciousness seeking to forestall the judgment of others, butsimply the relief of a desire to do with as little pretence aspossible. Apparently he was not without a sense that his freedom ofspeech might seem premature, for he presently said--

”I have not yet told you that I have the advantage of you, Mr. Lydgate,and know you better than you know me. You remember Trawley who sharedyour apartment at Paris for some time? I was a correspondent of his,and he told me a good deal about you. I was not quite sure when youfirst came that you were the same man. I was very glad when I foundthat you were. Only I don't forget that you have not had the likeprologue about me.”

Lydgate divined some delicacy of feeling here, but did not halfunderstand it. ”By the way,” he said, ”what has become of Trawley? Ihave quite lost sight of him. He was hot on the French social systems,and talked of going to the Backwoods to found a sort of Pythagoreancommunity. Is he gone?”

”Not at all. He is practising at a German bath, and has married a richpatient.”

”Then my notions wear the best, so far,” said Lydgate, with a shortscornful laugh. ”He would have it, the medical profession was aninevitable system of humbug. I said, the fault was in the men--men whotruckle to lies and folly. Instead of preaching against humbug outsidethe walls, it might be better to set up a disinfecting apparatuswithin. In short--I am reporting my own conversation--you may be sureI had all the good sense on my side.”

”Your scheme is a good deal more difficult to carry out than thePythagorean community, though. You have not only got the old Adam inyourself against you, but you have got all those descendants of theoriginal Adam who form the society around you. You see, I have paidtwelve or thirteen years more than you for my knowledge ofdifficulties. But”--Mr. Farebrother broke off a moment, and thenadded, ”you are eying that glass vase again. Do you want to make anexchange? You shall not have it without a fair barter.”

”I have some sea-mice--fine specimens--in spirits. And I will throw inRobert Brown's new thing--'Microscopic Observations on the Pollen ofPlants'--if you don't happen to have it already.”

”Why, seeing how you long for the monster, I might ask a higher price.Suppose I ask you to look through my drawers and agree with me aboutall my new species?” The Vicar, while he talked in this way,alternately moved about with his pipe in his mouth, and returned tohang rather fondly over his drawers. ”That would be good discipline,you know, for a young doctor who has to please his patients inMiddlemarch. You must learn to be bored, remember. However, you shallhave the monster on your own terms.”

”Don't you think men overrate the necessity for humoring everybody'snonsense, till they get despised by the very fools they humor?” saidLydgate, moving to Mr. Farebrother's side, and looking rather absentlyat the insects ranged in fine gradation, with names subscribed inexquisite writing. ”The shortest way is to make your value felt, sothat people must put up with you whether you flatter them or not.”

”With all my heart. But then you must be sure of having the value, andyou must keep yourself independent. Very few men can do that. Eitheryou slip out of service altogether, and become good for nothing, or youwear the harness and draw a good deal where your yoke-fellows pull you.But do look at these delicate orthoptera!”

Lydgate had after all to give some scrutiny to each drawer, the Vicarlaughing at himself, and yet persisting in the exhibition.

”Apropos of what you said about wearing harness,” Lydgate began, afterthey had sat down, ”I made up my mind some time ago to do with aslittle of it as possible. That was why I determined not to try anythingin London, for a good many years at least. I didn't like what I sawwhen I was studying there--so much empty bigwiggism, and obstructivetrickery. In the country, people have less pretension to knowledge,and are less of companions, but for that reason they affect one'samour-propre less: one makes less bad blood, and can follow one's owncourse more quietly.”

”Yes--well--you have got a good start; you are in the right profession,the work you feel yourself most fit for. Some people miss that, andrepent too late. But you must not be too sure of keeping yourindependence.”

”You mean of family ties?” said Lydgate, conceiving that these mightpress rather tightly on Mr. Farebrother.

”Not altogether. Of course they make many things more difficult. Buta good wife--a good unworldly woman--may really help a man, and keephim more independent. There's a parishioner of mine--a fine fellow,but who would hardly have pulled through as he has done without hiswife. Do you know the Garths? I think they were not Peacock'spatients.”

”No; but there is a Miss Garth at old Featherstone's, at Lowick.”

”Their daughter: an excellent girl.”

”She is very quiet--I have hardly noticed her.”

”She has taken notice of you, though, depend upon it.”

”I don't understand,” said Lydgate; he could hardly say ”Of course.”

”Oh, she gauges everybody. I prepared her for confirmation--she is afavorite of mine.”

Mr. Farebrother puffed a few moments in silence, Lydgate not caring toknow more about the Garths. At last the Vicar laid down his pipe,stretched out his legs, and turned his bright eyes with a smile towardsLydgate, saying--

”But we Middlemarchers are not so tame as you take us to be. We haveour intrigues and our parties. I am a party man, for example, andBulstrode is another. If you vote for me you will offend Bulstrode.”

”What is there against Bulstrode?” said Lydgate, emphatically.

”I did not say there was anything against him except that. If you voteagainst him you will make him your enemy.”

”I don't know that I need mind about that,” said Lydgate, ratherproudly; ”but he seems to have good ideas about hospitals, and hespends large sums on useful public objects. He might help me a gooddeal in carrying out my ideas. As to his religious notions--why, asVoltaire said, incantations will destroy a flock of sheep ifadministered with a certain quantity of arsenic. I look for the manwho will bring the arsenic, and don't mind about his incantations.”

”Very good. But then you must not offend your arsenic-man. You willnot offend me, you know,” said Mr. Farebrother, quite unaffectedly. ”Idon't translate my own convenience into other people's duties. I amopposed to Bulstrode in many ways. I don't like the set he belongs to:they are a narrow ignorant set, and do more to make their neighborsuncomfortable than to make them better. Their system is a sort ofworldly-spiritual cliqueism: they really look on the rest of mankind asa doomed carcass which is to nourish them for heaven. But,” he added,smilingly, ”I don't say that Bulstrode's new hospital is a bad thing;and as to his wanting to oust me from the old one--why, if he thinks mea mischievous fellow, he is only returning a compliment. And I am nota model clergyman--only a decent makeshift.”

Lydgate was not at all sure that the Vicar maligned himself. A modelclergyman, like a model doctor, ought to think his own profession thefinest in the world, and take all knowledge as mere nourishment to hismoral pathology and therapeutics. He only said, ”What reason doesBulstrode give for superseding you?”

”That I don't teach his opinions--which he calls spiritual religion;and that I have no time to spare. Both statements are true. But thenI could make time, and I should be glad of the forty pounds. That isthe plain fact of the case. But let us dismiss it. I only wanted totell you that if you vote for your arsenic-man, you are not to cut mein consequence. I can't spare you. You are a sort of circumnavigatorcome to settle among us, and will keep up my belief in the antipodes.Now tell me all about them in Paris.”