Chapter XIII
1st Gent. How class your man? — as better than the most,
Or, seeming better, worse beneath that cloak?
As saint or knave, pilgrim or hypocrite?
2d Gent. Nay, tell me how you class your wealth of books
The drifted relies of all time.
As well Sort them at once by size and livery:
Vellum, tall copies, and the common calf
Will hardly cover more diversity
Than all your labels cunningly devised
To class your unread authors.
In consequence of what he had heard from Fred, Mr. Vincy
determined to speak with Mr. Bulstrode in his private room
at the Bank at half-past one, when he was usually free from
other callers. But a visitor had come in at one o'clock,
and Mr. Bulstrode had so much to say to him, that there was
little chance of the interview being over in half an hour.
The banker's speech was fluent, but it was also copious, and
he used up an appreciable amount of time in brief meditative
pauses. Do not imagine his sickly aspect to have been of
the yellow, black-haired sort: he had a pale blond skin,
thin gray-besprinkled brown hair, light-gray eyes, and a
large forehead. Loud men called his subdued tone an
undertone, and sometimes implied that it was inconsistent
with openness; though there seems to be no reason why a loud
man should not be given to concealment of anything except
his own voice, unless it can be shown that Holy Writ has
placed the seat of candor
in the lungs. Mr. Bulstrode
had also a deferential bending attitude in listening, and an
apparently fixed attentiveness in his eyes which made those
persons who thought themselves worth hearing infer that he
was seeking the utmost improvement from their discourse.
Others, who expected to make no great figure, disliked this
kind of moral lantern turned on them. If you are not proud
of your cellar, there is no thrill of satisfaction in seeing
your guest hold up his wine-glass to the light and look
judicial. Such joys are reserved for conscious merit.
Hence Mr. Bulstrode's close attention was not agreeable to
the publicans and sinners in Middlemarch; it was attributed
by some to his being a Pharisee, and by others to his being
Evangelical. Less superficial reasoners among them wished
to know who his father and grandfather were, observing that
five-and-twenty years ago nobody had ever heard of a
Bulstrode in Middlemarch. To his present visitor, Lydgate,
the scrutinizing look was a matter of indifference: he
simply formed an unfavorable opinion of the banker's
constitution, and concluded that he had an eager inward life
with little enjoyment of tangible things.
"I shall be exceedingly obliged if you will look in on
me here occasionally, Mr. Lydgate," the banker observed,
after a brief pause. "If, as I dare to hope, I have the
privilege of finding you a valuable coadjutor in the
interesting matter of hospital management, there will be
many questions which we shall need to discuss in private.
As to the new hospital, which is nearly finished, I shall
consider what you have said about the advantages of the
special destination for fevers. The decision will rest with
me, for though Lord Medlicote has given the land and timber
for the building, he is not disposed to give his personal
attention to the object."
"There are few things better worth the pains in a
provincial town like this," said Lydgate. "A fine fever
hospital in addition to the old infirmary might be the
nucleus of a medical school here, when once we get our
medical reforms; and what would do more for medical
education than the spread of such schools over the country?
A born provincial man who has a grain of public spirit as
well as a few ideas, should do
what he can to resist
the rush of everything that is a little better than common
towards London. Any valid professional aims may often find
a freer, if not a richer field, in the provinces."
One of Lydgate's gifts was a voice habitually deep and
sonorous, yet capable of becoming very low and gentle at the
right moment. About his ordinary bearing there was a
certain fling, a fearless expectation of success, a
confidence in his own powers and integrity much fortified by
contempt for petty obstacles or seductions of which he had
had no experience. But this proud openness was made lovable
by an expression of unaffected good-will. Mr. Bulstrode
perhaps liked him the better for the difference between them
in pitch and manners; he certainly liked him the better, as
Rosamond did, for being a stranger in Middlemarch. One can
begin so many things with a new person ! — even begin to be a
better man.
"I shall rejoice to furnish your zeal with fuller
opportunities," Mr. Bulstrode answered; "I mean, by
confiding to you the superintendence of my new hospital,
should a maturer knowledge favor that issue, for I am
determined that so great an object shall not be shackled by
our two physicians. Indeed, I am encouraged to consider
your advent to this town as a gracious indication that a
more manifest blessing is now to be awarded to my efforts,
which have hitherto been much with stood. With regard to
the old infirmary, we have gained the initial point — I mean
your election. And now I hope you will not shrink from
incurring a certain amount of jealousy and dislike from your
professional brethren by presenting yourself as a reformer."
"I will not profess bravery," said Lydgate, smiling,
"but I acknowledge a good deal of pleasure in fighting, and
I should not care for my profession, if I did not believe
that better methods were to be found and enforced there as
well as everywhere else."
"The standard of that profession is low in Middlemarch,
my dear sir," said the banker. "I mean in knowledge and
skill; not in social status, for our medical men are most of
them connected with respectable townspeople here. My own
imperfect health has induced me to give some attention
to those palliative resources which the divine mercy has
placed within our reach. I have consulted eminent men in
the metropolis, and I am painfully aware of the backwardness
under which medical treatment labors in our provincial
districts."
"Yes; — with our present medical rules and education, one
must be satisfied now and then to meet with a fair
practitioner. As to all the higher questions which
determine the starting-point of a diagnosis — as to the
philosophy of medial evidence — any glimmering of these can
only come from a scientific culture of which country
practitioners have usually no more notion than the man in
the moon.''
Mr. Bulstrode, bending and looking intently, found the
form which Lydgate had given to his agreement not quite
suited to his comprehension. Under such circumstances a
judicious man changes the topic and enters on ground where
his own gifts may be more useful.
"I am aware," he said, "that the peculiar bias of
medical ability is towards material means. Nevertheless,
Mr. Lydgate, I hope we shall not vary in sentiment as to a
measure in which you are not likely to be actively
concerned, but in which your sympathetic concurrence may be
an aid to me. You recognize, I hope; the existence of
spiritual interests in your patients?"
"Certainly I do. But those words are apt to cover
different meanings to different minds."
"Precisely. And on such subjects wrong teaching is as
fatal as no teaching. Now a point which I have much at
heart to secure is a new regulation as to clerical
attendance at the old infirmary. The building stands in Mr.
Farebrother's parish You know Mr. Farebrother?"
"I have seen him. He gave me his vote. I must call to
thank him. He seems a very bright pleasant little fellow.
And I understand he is a naturalist."
"Mr. Farebrother, my dear sir, is a man deeply painful
to contemplate. I suppose there is not a clergyman in this
country who has greater talents." Mr. Bulstrode paused and
looked meditative.
"I have not yet been pained by finding any excessive
talent in Middlemarch," said Lydgate, bluntly.
"What I desire," Mr. Bulstrode continued, looking still
more serious, "is that Mr. Farebrother's attendance at the
hospital should be superseded by the appointment of a
chaplain — of Mr. Tyke, in fact — and that no other spiritual
aid should be called in."
"As a medial man I could have no opinion on such a point
unless I knew Mr. Tyke, and even then I should require to
know the eases in which he was applied." Lydgate smiled,
but he was bent on being circumspect.
"Of course you cannot enter fully into the merits of
this measure at present. But " — here Mr. Bulstrode began to
speak with a more chiselled emphasis — "the subject is likely
to be referred to the medical board of the infirmary, and
what I trust I may ask of you is, that in virtue of the co-operation between us which I now look forward to, you will
not, so far as you are concerned, be influenced by my
opponents in this matter."
"I hope I shall have nothing to do with clerical
disputes," said Lydgate. "The path I have chosen is to work
well in my own profession."
"My responsibility, Mr. Lydgate, is of a broader kind.
With me, indeed, this question is one of sacred
accountableness; whereas with my opponents, I have good
reason to say that it is an occasion for gratifying a spirit
of worldly opposition. But I shall not therefore drop one
iota of my convictions, or cease to identify myself with
that truth which an evil generation hates. I have devoted
myself to this object of hospital-improvement, but I will
boldly confess to you, Mr. Lydgate, that I should have no
interest in hospitals if I believed that nothing more was
concerned therein than the cure of mortal diseases. I have
another ground of action, and in the face of persecution I
will not conceal it."
Mr. Bulstrode's voice had become a loud and agitated
whisper as he said the last words.
"There we certainly differ," said Lydgate. But he was
not sorry that the door was now opened, and Mr. Vincy was
announced. That florid sociable personage was become
more interesting to him since he had seen Rosamond. Not
that, like her, he had been weaving any future in which
their lots were united; but a man naturally remembers a
charming girl with pleasure, and is willing to dine where he
may see her again. Before he took leave, Mr. Vincy had
given that invitation which he had been "in no hurry about,"
for Rosamond at breakfast had mentioned that she thought her
uncle Featherstone had taken the new doctor into great
favor.
Mr. Bulstrode, alone with his brother-in-law, poured
himself out a glass of water, and opened a sandwich-box.
"I cannot persuade you to adopt my regimen, Vincy?"
"No, no; I've no opinion of that system. Life wants
padding," said Mr. Vincy, unable to omit his portable
theory. "However.," he went on, accenting the word, as if
to dismiss all irrelevance, "what I came here to talk about
was a little affair of my young scapegrace, Fred's."
"That is a subject on which you and I are likely to take
quite as different views as on diet, Vincy."
"I hope not this time." (Mr. Vincy was resolved to be
good-humored.) " The fact is, it's about a whim of old
Featherstone's. Somebody has been cooking up a story out of
spite, and telling it to the old man, to try to set him
against Fred. He's very fond of Fred, and is likely to do
something handsome for him; indeed he has as good as told
Fred that he means to leave him his land, and that makes
other people jealous."
"Vincy, I must repeat, that you will not get any
concurrence from me as to the course you have pursued with
your eldest son. It was entirely from worldly vanity that
you destined him for the Church: with a family of three sons
and four daughters, you were not warranted in devoting money
to an expensive education which has succeeded in nothing but
in giving him extravagant idle habits. You are now reaping
the consequences."
To point out other people's errors was a duty that Mr.
Bulstrode rarely shrank from, but Mr. Vincy was not equally
prepared to be patient. When a man has the immediate
prospect
of being mayor, and is ready, in the interests
of commerce, to take up a firm attitude on politics
generally, he has naturally a sense of his importance to the
framework of things which seems to throw questions of
private conduct into the background. And this particular
reproof irritated him more than any other. It was eminently
superfluous to him to be told that he was reaping the
consequences. But he felt his neck under Bulstrode's yoke;
and though he usually enjoyed kicking, he was anxious to
refrain from that relief.
"As to that, Bulstrode, it's no use going back. I'm not
one of your pattern men, and I don't pretend to be. I
couldn't foresee everything in the trade; there wasn't a
finer business in Middlemarch than ours, and the lad was
clever. My poor brother was in the Church, and would have
done well — had got preferment already, but that stomach
fever took him off: else he might have been a dean by this
time. I think I was justified in what I tried to do for
Fred. If you come to religion, it seems to me a man
shouldn't want to carve out his meat to an ounce
beforehand: — one must trust a little to Providence and be
generous. It's a good British feeling to try and raise your
family a little: in my opinion, it's a father's duty to give
his sons a fine chance."
"I don't wish to act otherwise than as your best friend,
Vincy, when I say that what you have been uttering just now
is one mass of worldliness and inconsistent folly."
"Very well," said Mr. Vincy, kicking in spite of
resolutions, " I never professed to be anything but worldly;
and, what's more, I don't see anybody else who is not
worldly. I suppose you don't principles. business on what
you call unworldly principles. The only difference I see is
that one worldliness is a little bit honester than another."
"This kind of discussion is unfruitful, Vincy," said Mr.
Bulstrode, who, finishing his sandwich, had thrown himself
back in his chair, and shaded his eyes as if weary. " You
had some more particular business."
"Yes, yes. The long and short of it is, somebody has
told old Featherstone, giving you as the authority, that
Fred has been borrowing or trying to borrow money on the
prospect of
his land. Of course you never said any
such nonsense. But the old fellow will insist on it that
Fred should bring him a denial in your handwriting; that is,
just a bit of a note saying you don't believe a word of such
stuff, either of his having borrowed or tried to borrow in
such a fool's way. I suppose you can have no objection to
do that."
"Pardon me. I have an objection. I am by no means sure
that your son, in his recklessness and ignorance — I will use
no severer word — has not tried to raise money by holding out
his future prospects, or even that some one may not have
been foolish enough to supply him on so vague a presumption:
there is plenty of such lax money-lending as of other folly
in the world."
"But Fred gives me his honor that he has never borrowed
money on the pretence of any understanding about his uncle's
land. He is not a liar. I don't want to make him better
than he is. I have blown him up well — nobody can say I wink
at what he does. But he is not a liar. And I should have
thought — but I may be wrong — that there was no religion to
hinder a man from believing the best of a young fellow, when
you don't know worse. It seems to me it would be a poor
sort of religion to put a spoke in his wheel by refusing to
say you don't believe such harm of him as you've got no good
reason to believe."
"I am not at all sure that I should be befriending your
son by smoothing his way to the future possession of
Featherstone's property. I cannot regard wealth as a
blessing to those who use it simply as a harvest for this
world. You do not like to hear these things, Vincy, but on
this occasion I feel called upon to tell you that I have no
motive for furthering such a disposition of property as that
which you refer to. I do not shrink from saying that it
will not tend to your son's eternal welfare or to the glory
of God. Why then should you expect me to pen this kind of
affidavit, which has no object but to keep up a foolish
partiality and secure a foolish bequest?"
"If you mean to hinder everybody from having money but
saints and evangelists, you must give up some profitable
part
nerships, that's all I can say," Mr. Vincy burst
out very bluntly. "It may be for the glory of God, but it
is not for the glory of the Middlemarch trade, that
Plymdale's house uses those blue and green dyes it gets from
the Brassing manufactory; they rot the silk, that's all I
know about it. Perhaps if other people knew so much of the
profit went to the glory of God, they might like it better.
But I don't mind so much about that — I could get up a pretty
row, if I chose."
Mr. Bulstrode paused a little before he answered. "You
pain me very much by speaking in this way, Vincy. I do not
expect you to understand my grounds of action — it is not an
easy thing even to thread a path for principles in the
intricacies of the world — still less to make the thread
clear for the careless and the scoffing. You must remember,
if you please, that I stretch my tolerance towards you as my
wife's brother, and that it little becomes you to complain
of me as withholding material help towards the worldly
position of your family. I must remind you that it is not
your own prudence or judgment that has enabled you to keep
your place in the trade."
"Very likely not; but you have been no loser by my trade
yet," said Mr. Vincy, thoroughly nettled (a result which was
seldom much retarded by previous resolutions). "And when
you married Harriet, I don't see how you could expect that
our families should not hang by the same nail. If you've
changed your mind, and want my family to come down in the
world, you'd better say so. I've never changed; I'm a plain
Churchman now, just as I used to be before doctrines came
up. I take the world as I find it, in trade and everything
else. I'm contented to be no worse than my neighbors. But
if you want us to come down in the world, say so. I shall
know better what to do then."
"You talk unreasonably. Shall you come down in the
world for want of this letter about your son?"
"Well, whether or not, I consider it very unhandsome of
you to refuse it. Such doings may be lined with religion,
but outside they have a nasty, dog-in-the-manger look. You
might as well slander Fred: it comes pretty near to it
when you refuse to say you didn't set a slander going. It's
this sort of thing — -this tyrannical spirit, wanting to play
bishop and banker everywhere — it's this sort of thing makes
a man's name stink."
"Vincy, if you insist on quarrelling with me, it will be
exceedingly painful to Harriet as well as myself," said Mr.
Bulstrode, with a trifle more eagerness and paleness than
usual.
"I don't want to quarrel. It's for my interest — and
perhaps for yours too — that we should be friends. I bear
you no grudge; I think no worse of you than I do of other
people. A man who half starves himself, and goes the length
in family prayers, and so on, that you do, believes in his
religion whatever it may be: you could turn over your
capital just as fast with cursing and swearing: — plenty of
fellows do. You like to be master, there's no denying that;
you must be first chop in heaven, else you won't like it
much. But you're my sister's husband, and we ought to stick
together; and if I know Harriet, she'll consider it your
fault if we quarrel because you strain at a gnat in this
way, and refuse to do Fred a good turn. And I don't mean to
say I shall bear it well. I consider it unhandsome."
Mr. Vincy rose, began to button his great-coat, and
looked steadily at his brother-in-law, meaning to imply a
demand for a decisive answer.
This was not the first time that Mr. Bulstrode had begun
by admonishing Mr. Vincy, and had ended by seeing a very
unsatisfactory reflection of himself in the coarse
unflattering mirror which that manufacturer's mind presented
to the subtler lights and shadows of his fellow-men; and
perhaps his experience ought to have warned him how the
scene would end. But a full-fed fountain will be generous
with its waters even in the rain, when they are worse than
useless; and a fine fount of admonition is apt to be equally
irrepressible.
It was not in Mr. Bulstrode's nature to comply directly
in consequence of uncomfortable suggestions. Before
changing his course, he always needed to shape his motives
and bring
them into accordance with his habitual
standard. He said, at last —
"I will reflect a little, Vincy. I will mention the
subject to Harriet. I shall probably send you a letter."
"Very well. As soon as you can, please. I hope it will
all be settled before I see you to-morrow."