Jude the Obscure

VI

The unnoticed lives that the pair had hitherto led began, from theday of the suspended wedding onwards, to be observed and discussed byother persons than Arabella. The society of Spring Street and theneighbourhood generally did not understand, and probably could nothave been made to understand, Sue and Jude's private minds, emotions,positions, and fears. The curious facts of a child coming to themunexpectedly, who called Jude ”Father,” and Sue ”Mother,” and a hitchin a marriage ceremony intended for quietness to be performed at aregistrar's office, together with rumours of the undefended cases inthe law-courts, bore only one translation to plain minds.

Little Time--for though he was formally turned into ”Jude,” the aptnickname stuck to him--would come home from school in the evening,and repeat inquiries and remarks that had been made to him by theother boys; and cause Sue, and Jude when he heard them, a great dealof pain and sadness.

The result was that shortly after the attempt at the registrar's thepair went off--to London it was believed--for several days, hiringsomebody to look to the boy. When they came back they let it beunderstood indirectly, and with total indifference and wearinessof mien, that they were legally married at last. Sue, who hadpreviously been called Mrs. Bridehead now openly adopted the name ofMrs. Fawley. Her dull, cowed, and listless manner for days seemedto substantiate all this.

But the mistake (as it was called) of their going away so secretlyto do the business, kept up much of the mystery of their lives; andthey found that they made not such advances with their neighbours asthey had expected to do thereby. A living mystery was not much lessinteresting than a dead scandal.

The baker's lad and the grocer's boy, who at first had used to lifttheir hats gallantly to Sue when they came to execute their errands,in these days no longer took the trouble to render her that homage,and the neighbouring artizans' wives looked straight along thepavement when they encountered her.

Nobody molested them, it is true; but an oppressive atmosphere beganto encircle their souls, particularly after their excursion to theshow, as if that visit had brought some evil influence to bear onthem. And their temperaments were precisely of a kind to suffer fromthis atmosphere, and to be indisposed to lighten it by vigorous andopen statements. Their apparent attempt at reparation had come toolate to be effective.

The headstone and epitaph orders fell off: and two or three monthslater, when autumn came, Jude perceived that he would have to returnto journey-work again, a course all the more unfortunate just now,in that he had not as yet cleared off the debt he had unavoidablyincurred in the payment of the law-costs of the previous year.

One evening he sat down to share the common meal with Sue and thechild as usual. ”I am thinking,” he said to her, ”that I'll hold onhere no longer. The life suits us, certainly; but if we could getaway to a place where we are unknown, we should be lighter hearted,and have a better chance. And so I am afraid we must break it uphere, however awkward for you, poor dear!”

Sue was always much affected at a picture of herself as an object ofpity, and she saddened.

”Well--I am not sorry,” said she presently. ”I am much depressedby the way they look at me here. And you have been keeping on thishouse and furniture entirely for me and the boy! You don't wantit yourself, and the expense is unnecessary. But whatever we do,wherever we go, you won't take him away from me, Jude dear? I couldnot let him go now! The cloud upon his young mind makes him sopathetic to me; I do hope to lift it some day! And he loves me so.You won't take him away from me?”

”Certainly I won't, dear little girl! We'll get nice lodgings,wherever we go. I shall be moving about probably--getting a jobhere and a job there.”

”I shall do something too, of course, till--till-- Well, now I can'tbe useful in the lettering it behoves me to turn my hand to somethingelse.”

”Don't hurry about getting employment,” he said regretfully. ”Idon't want you to do that. I wish you wouldn't, Sue. The boy andyourself are enough for you to attend to.”

There was a knock at the door, and Jude answered it. Sue could hearthe conversation:

”Is Mr. Fawley at home? ... Biles and Willis, the buildingcontractors, sent me to know if you'll undertake the reletteringof the ten commandments in a little church they've been restoringlately in the country near here.”

Jude reflected, and said he could undertake it.

”It is not a very artistic job,” continued the messenger. ”Theclergyman is a very old-fashioned chap, and he has refused to letanything more be done to the church than cleaning and repairing.”

”Excellent old man!” said Sue to herself, who was sentimentallyopposed to the horrors of over-restoration.

”The Ten Commandments are fixed to the east end,” the messenger wenton, ”and they want doing up with the rest of the wall there, sincehe won't have them carted off as old materials belonging to thecontractor in the usual way of the trade.”

A bargain as to terms was struck, and Jude came indoors. ”There, yousee,” he said cheerfully. ”One more job yet, at any rate, and youcan help in it--at least you can try. We shall have all the churchto ourselves, as the rest of the work is finished.”

Next day Jude went out to the church, which was only two milesoff. He found that what the contractor's clerk had said was true.The tables of the Jewish law towered sternly over the utensils ofChristian grace, as the chief ornament of the chancel end, in thefine dry style of the last century. And as their framework wasconstructed of ornamental plaster they could not be taken down forrepair. A portion, crumbled by damp, required renewal; and whenthis had been done, and the whole cleansed, he began to renew thelettering. On the second morning Sue came to see what assistanceshe could render, and also because they liked to be together.

The silence and emptiness of the building gave her confidence, and,standing on a safe low platform erected by Jude, which she wasnevertheless timid at mounting, she began painting in the lettersof the first Table while he set about mending a portion of thesecond. She was quite pleased at her powers; she had acquired themin the days she painted illumined texts for the church-fitting shopat Christminster. Nobody seemed likely to disturb them; and thepleasant twitter of birds, and rustle of October leafage, came inthrough an open window, and mingled with their talk.

They were not, however, to be left thus snug and peaceful for long.About half-past twelve there came footsteps on the gravel without.The old vicar and his churchwarden entered, and, coming up to seewhat was being done, seemed surprised to discover that a young womanwas assisting. They passed on into an aisle, at which time the dooragain opened, and another figure entered--a small one, that of littleTime, who was crying. Sue had told him where he might find herbetween school-hours, if he wished. She came down from her perch,and said, ”What's the matter, my dear?”

”I couldn't stay to eat my dinner in school, because they said--”He described how some boys had taunted him about his nominal mother,and Sue, grieved, expressed her indignation to Jude aloft. The childwent into the churchyard, and Sue returned to her work. Meanwhilethe door had opened again, and there shuffled in with a businesslikeair the white-aproned woman who cleaned the church. Sue recognizedher as one who had friends in Spring Street, whom she visited. Thechurch-cleaner looked at Sue, gaped, and lifted her hands; she hadevidently recognized Jude's companion as the latter had recognizedher. Next came two ladies, and after talking to the charwoman theyalso moved forward, and as Sue stood reaching upward, watched herhand tracing the letters, and critically regarded her person inrelief against the white wall, till she grew so nervous that shetrembled visibly.

They went back to where the others were standing, talking inundertones: and one said--Sue could not hear which--”She's his wife,I suppose?”

”Some say Yes: some say No,” was the reply from the charwoman.

”Not? Then she ought to be, or somebody's--that's very clear!”

”They've only been married a very few weeks, whether or no.”

”A strange pair to be painting the Two Tables! I wonder Biles andWillis could think of such a thing as hiring those!”

The churchwarden supposed that Biles and Willis knew of nothingwrong, and then the other, who had been talking to the old woman,explained what she meant by calling them strange people.

The probable drift of the subdued conversation which followed wasmade plain by the churchwarden breaking into an anecdote, in a voicethat everybody in the church could hear, though obviously suggestedby the present situation:

”Well, now, it is a curious thing, but my grandfather told me astrange tale of a most immoral case that happened at the painting ofthe Commandments in a church out by Gaymead--which is quite within awalk of this one. In them days Commandments were mostly done in giltletters on a black ground, and that's how they were out where I say,before the owld church was rebuilded. It must have been somewhereabout a hundred years ago that them Commandments wanted doing up justas ours do here, and they had to get men from Aldbrickham to do 'em.Now they wished to get the job finished by a particular Sunday, sothe men had to work late Saturday night, against their will, forovertime was not paid then as 'tis now. There was no true religionin the country at that date, neither among pa'sons, clerks, norpeople, and to keep the men up to their work the vicar had to let 'emhave plenty of drink during the afternoon. As evening drawed on theysent for some more themselves; rum, by all account. It got later andlater, and they got more and more fuddled, till at last they wenta-putting their rum-bottle and rummers upon the communion table, anddrawed up a trestle or two, and sate round comfortable and pouredout again right hearty bumpers. No sooner had they tossed off theirglasses than, so the story goes, they fell down senseless, one andall. How long they bode so they didn't know, but when they cameto themselves there was a terrible thunder-storm a-raging, andthey seemed to see in the gloom a dark figure with very thin legsand a curious voot, a-standing on the ladder, and finishing theirwork. When it got daylight they could see that the work was reallyfinished, and couldn't at all mind finishing it themselves. Theywent home, and the next thing they heard was that a great scandal hadbeen caused in the church that Sunday morning, for when the peoplecame and service began, all saw that the Ten Commandments wez paintedwith the 'nots' left out. Decent people wouldn't attend servicethere for a long time, and the Bishop had to be sent for toreconsecrate the church. That's the tradition as I used to hear itas a child. You must take it for what it is wo'th, but this caseto-day has reminded me o't, as I say.”

The visitors gave one more glance, as if to see whether Jude andSue had left the ”nots” out likewise, and then severally left thechurch, even the old woman at last. Sue and Jude, who had notstopped working, sent back the child to school, and remained withoutspeaking; till, looking at her narrowly, he found she had been cryingsilently.

”Never mind, comrade!” he said. ”I know what it is!”

”I can't BEAR that they, and everybody, should think people wickedbecause they may have chosen to live their own way! It is reallythese opinions that make the best intentioned people reckless, andactually become immoral!”

”Never be cast down! It was only a funny story.”

”Ah, but we suggested it! I am afraid I have done you mischief,Jude, instead of helping you by coming!”

To have suggested such a story was certainly not very exhilarating,in a serious view of their position. However, in a few minutes Sueseemed to see that their position this morning had a ludicrous side,and wiping her eyes she laughed.

”It is droll, after all,” she said, ”that we two, of all people,with our queer history, should happen to be here painting theTen Commandments! You a reprobate, and I--in my condition... Odear!” ... And with her hand over her eyes she laughed againsilently and intermittently, till she was quite weak.

”That's better,” said Jude gaily. ”Now we are right again, aren'twe, little girl!”

”Oh but it is serious, all the same!” she sighed as she took up thebrush and righted herself. ”But do you see they don't think we aremarried? They WON'T believe it! It is extraordinary!”

”I don't care whether they think so or not,” said Jude. ”I shan'ttake any more trouble to make them.”

They sat down to lunch--which they had brought with them not tohinder time--and having eaten it, were about to set to work anew whena man entered the church, and Jude recognized in him the contractorWillis. He beckoned to Jude, and spoke to him apart.

”Here--I've just had a complaint about this,” he said, with ratherbreathless awkwardness. ”I don't wish to go into the matter--as ofcourse I didn't know what was going on--but I am afraid I must askyou and her to leave off, and let somebody else finish this! It isbest, to avoid all unpleasantness. I'll pay you for the week, allthe same.”

Jude was too independent to make any fuss; and the contractor paidhim, and left. Jude picked up his tools, and Sue cleansed her brush.Then their eyes met.

”How could we be so simple as to suppose we might do this!” saidshe, dropping to her tragic note. ”Of course we ought not--I oughtnot--to have come!”

”I had no idea that anybody was going to intrude into such a lonelyplace and see us!” Jude returned. ”Well, it can't be helped, dear;and of course I wouldn't wish to injure Willis's trade-connection bystaying.” They sat down passively for a few minutes, proceeded outof the church, and overtaking the boy pursued their thoughtful wayto Aldbrickham.

Fawley had still a pretty zeal in the cause of education, and, as wasnatural with his experiences, he was active in furthering ”equalityof opportunity” by any humble means open to him. He had joined anArtizans' Mutual Improvement Society established in the town aboutthe time of his arrival there; its members being young men of allcreeds and denominations, including Churchmen, Congregationalists,Baptists, Unitarians, Positivists, and others--Agnostics had scarcelybeen heard of at this time--their one common wish to enlarge theirminds forming a sufficiently close bond of union. The subscriptionwas small, and the room homely; and Jude's activity, uncustomaryacquirements, and, above all, singular intuition on what to readand how to set about it--begotten of his years of struggle againstmalignant stars--had led to his being placed on the committee.

A few evenings after his dismissal from the church repairs, andbefore he had obtained any more work to do, he went to attend ameeting of the aforesaid committee. It was late when he arrived: allthe others had come, and as he entered they looked dubiously at him,and hardly uttered a word of greeting. He guessed that somethingbearing on himself had been either discussed or mooted. Someordinary business was transacted, and it was disclosed that thenumber of subscriptions had shown a sudden falling off for thatquarter. One member--a really well-meaning and upright man--beganspeaking in enigmas about certain possible causes: that it behovedthem to look well into their constitution; for if the committee werenot respected, and had not at least, in their differences, a commonstandard of CONDUCT, they would bring the institution to the ground.Nothing further was said in Jude's presence, but he knew what thismeant; and turning to the table wrote a note resigning his officethere and then.

Thus the supersensitive couple were more and more impelled to goaway. And then bills were sent in, and the question arose, whatcould Jude do with his great-aunt's heavy old furniture, if he leftthe town to travel he knew not whither? This, and the necessity ofready money, compelled him to decide on an auction, much as he wouldhave preferred to keep the venerable goods.

The day of the sale came on; and Sue for the last time cooked herown, the child's, and Jude's breakfast in the little house he hadfurnished. It chanced to be a wet day; moreover Sue was unwell, andnot wishing to desert her poor Jude in such gloomy circumstances,for he was compelled to stay awhile, she acted on the suggestion ofthe auctioneer's man, and ensconced herself in an upper room, whichcould be emptied of its effects, and so kept closed to the bidders.Here Jude discovered her; and with the child, and their few trunks,baskets, and bundles, and two chairs and a table that were not inthe sale, the two sat in meditative talk.

Footsteps began stamping up and down the bare stairs, the comersinspecting the goods, some of which were of so quaint and ancient amake as to acquire an adventitious value as art. Their door wastried once or twice, and to guard themselves against intrusion Judewrote ”Private” on a scrap of paper, and stuck it upon the panel.

They soon found that, instead of the furniture, their own personalhistories and past conduct began to be discussed to an unexpectedand intolerable extent by the intending bidders. It was not tillnow that they really discovered what a fools' paradise of supposedunrecognition they had been living in of late. Sue silently tookher companion's hand, and with eyes on each other they heard thesepassing remarks--the quaint and mysterious personality of FatherTime being a subject which formed a large ingredient in the hints andinnuendoes. At length the auction began in the room below, whencethey could hear each familiar article knocked down, the highly prizedones cheaply, the unconsidered at an unexpected price.

”People don't understand us,” he sighed heavily. ”I am glad we havedecided to go.”

”The question is, where to?”

”It ought to be to London. There one can live as one chooses.”

”No--not London, dear! I know it well. We should be unhappy there.”

”Why?”

”Can't you think?”

”Because Arabella is there?”

”That's the chief reason.”

”But in the country I shall always be uneasy lest there should besome more of our late experience. And I don't care to lessen it byexplaining, for one thing, all about the boy's history. To cut himoff from his past I have determined to keep silence. I am sickenedof ecclesiastical work now; and I shouldn't like to accept it, ifoffered me!”

”You ought to have learnt classic. Gothic is barbaric art, afterall. Pugin was wrong, and Wren was right. Remember the interior ofChristminster Cathedral--almost the first place in which we lookedin each other's faces. Under the picturesqueness of those Normandetails one can see the grotesque childishness of uncouth peopletrying to imitate the vanished Roman forms, remembered by dimtradition only.”

”Yes--you have half-converted me to that view by what you have saidbefore. But one can work, and despise what one does. I must dosomething, if not church-gothic.”

”I wish we could both follow an occupation in which personalcircumstances don't count,” she said, smiling up wistfully. ”I amas disqualified for teaching as you are for ecclesiastical art. Youmust fall back upon railway stations, bridges, theatres, music-halls,hotels--everything that has no connection with conduct.”

”I am not skilled in those... I ought to take to bread-baking. Igrew up in the baking business with aunt, you know. But even a bakermust be conventional, to get customers.”

”Unless he keeps a cake and gingerbread stall at markets and fairs,where people are gloriously indifferent to everything except thequality of the goods.”

Their thoughts were diverted by the voice of the auctioneer: ”Nowthis antique oak settle--a unique example of old English furniture,worthy the attention of all collectors!”

”That was my great-grandfather's,” said Jude. ”I wish we could havekept the poor old thing!”

One by one the articles went, and the afternoon passed away. Judeand the other two were getting tired and hungry, but after theconversation they had heard they were shy of going out while thepurchasers were in their line of retreat. However, the later lotsdrew on, and it became necessary to emerge into the rain soon, totake on Sue's things to their temporary lodging.

”Now the next lot: two pairs of pigeons, all alive and plump--a nicepie for somebody for next Sunday's dinner!”

The impending sale of these birds had been the most trying suspenseof the whole afternoon. They were Sue's pets, and when it was foundthat they could not possibly be kept, more sadness was caused than byparting from all the furniture. Sue tried to think away her tearsas she heard the trifling sum that her dears were deemed to be worthadvanced by small stages to the price at which they were finallyknocked down. The purchaser was a neighbouring poulterer, and theywere unquestionably doomed to die before the next market day.

Noting her dissembled distress Jude kissed her, and said it was timeto go and see if the lodgings were ready. He would go on with theboy, and fetch her soon.

When she was left alone she waited patiently, but Jude did not comeback. At last she started, the coast being clear, and on passing thepoulterer's shop, not far off, she saw her pigeons in a hamper by thedoor. An emotion at sight of them, assisted by the growing dusk ofevening, caused her to act on impulse, and first looking around herquickly, she pulled out the peg which fastened down the cover, andwent on. The cover was lifted from within, and the pigeons flewaway with a clatter that brought the chagrined poulterer cursing andswearing to the door.

Sue reached the lodging trembling, and found Jude and the boy makingit comfortable for her. ”Do the buyers pay before they bring awaythe things?” she asked breathlessly.

”Yes, I think. Why?”

”Because, then, I've done such a wicked thing!” And she explained,in bitter contrition.

”I shall have to pay the poulterer for them, if he doesn't catchthem,” said Jude. ”But never mind. Don't fret about it, dear.”

”It was so foolish of me! Oh why should Nature's law be mutualbutchery!”

”Is it so, Mother?” asked the boy intently.

”Yes!” said Sue vehemently.

”Well, they must take their chance, now, poor things,” said Jude.”As soon as the sale-account is wound up, and our bills paid, we go.”

”Where do we go to?” asked Time, in suspense.

”We must sail under sealed orders, that nobody may trace us... Wemustn't go to Alfredston, or to Melchester, or to Shaston, or toChristminster. Apart from those we may go anywhere.”

”Why mustn't we go there, Father?”

”Because of a cloud that has gathered over us; though 'we havewronged no man, corrupted no man, defrauded no man!' Though perhapswe have 'done that which was right in our own eyes.'”