"I am a close neighbor of yours, my good friends—you've known meon the bench a good while—I've always gone a good deal into publicquestions—machinery, now, and machine-breaking—you're many of youconcerned with machinery, and I've been going into that lately. It won'tdo, you know, breaking machines: everything must go on—trade,manufactures, commerce, interchange of staples—that kind of thing—since Adam Smith, that must go on. We must look all over the globe:—'Observation with extensive view,' must look everywhere, 'from China toPeru,' as somebody says—Johnson, I think, 'The Rambler,' you know.That is what I have done up to a certain point—not as far as Peru; butI've not always stayed at home—I saw it wouldn't do. I've been in theLevant, where some of your Middlemarch goods go—and then, again, inthe Baltic. The Baltic, now."
Plying among his recollections in this way, Mr. Brooke might havegot along, easily to himself, and would have come back from theremotest seas without trouble; but a diabolical procedure had been setup by the enemy. At one and the same moment there had risen above theshoulders of the crowd, nearly opposite Mr. Brooke, and within tenyards of him, the effigy of himself: buff-colored waistcoat, eye-glass, andneutral physiognomy, painted on rag; and there had arisen, apparently inthe air, like the note of the cuckoo, a parrot-like, Punch-voiced echo ofhis words. Everybody looked up at the open windows in the houses atthe opposite angles of the converging streets; but they were either blank,or filled by laughing listeners. The most innocent echo has an impishmockery in it when it follows a gravely persistent speaker, and this echowas not at all innocent; if it did not follow with the precision of a naturalecho, it had a wicked choice of the words it overtook. By the time it said,"The Baltic, now," the laugh which had been running through theaudience became a general shout, and but for the sobering effects ofparty and that great public cause which the entanglement of things hadidentified with "Brooke of Tipton," the laugh might have caught hiscommittee. Mr. Bulstrode asked, reprehensively, what the new policewas doing; but a voice could not well be collared, and an attack on theeffigy of the candidate would have been too equivocal, since Hawleyprobably meant it to be pelted.
Mr. Brooke himself was not in a position to be quickly conscious ofanything except a general slipping away of ideas within himself: he hadeven a little singing in the ears, and he was the only person who had notyet taken distinct account of the echo or discerned the image of himself.Few things hold the perceptions more thoroughly captive than anxietyabout what we have got to say. Mr. Brooke heard the laughter; but hehad expected some Tory efforts at disturbance, and he was at thismoment additionally excited by the tickling, stinging sense that his lostexordium was coming back to fetch him from the Baltic.
"That reminds me," he went on, thrusting a hand into his side-pocket, with an easy air, "if I wanted a precedent, you know—but wenever want a precedent for the right thing—but there is Chatham, now; Ican't say I should have supported Chatham, or Pitt, the younger Pitt—hewas not a man of ideas, and we want ideas, you know."
"Blast your ideas! we want the Bill," said a loud rough voice from thecrowd below.
Immediately the invisible Punch, who had hitherto followed Mr.Brooke, repeated, "Blast your ideas! we want the Bill." The laugh waslouder than ever, and for the first time Mr. Brooke being himself silent,heard distinctly the mocking echo. But it seemed to ridicule hisinterrupter, and in that light was encouraging; so he replied withamenity—
"There is something in what you say, my good friend, and what dowe meet for but to speak our minds—freedom of opinion, freedom of thepress, liberty—that kind of thing? The Bill, now—you shall have theBill"—here Mr. Brooke paused a moment to fix on his eye-glass and takethe paper from his breast-pocket, with a sense of being practical andcoming to particulars. The invisible Punch followed:—
"You shall have the Bill, Mr. Brooke, per electioneering contest, anda seat outside Parliament as delivered, five thousand pounds, sevenshillings, and fourpence."
Mr. Brooke, amid the roars of laughter, turned red, let his eye-glassfall, and looking about him confusedly, saw the image of himself, whichhad come nearer. The next moment he saw it dolorously bespatteredwith eggs. His spirit rose a little, and his voice too.
"Buffoonery, tricks, ridicule the test of truth—all that is very well"—here an unpleasant egg broke on Mr. Brooke's shoulder, as the echo said,"All that is very well;" then came a hail of eggs, chiefly aimed at theimage, but occasionally hitting the original, as if by chance. There was astream of new men pushing among the crowd; whistles, yells, bellowings,and fifes made all the greater hubbub because there was shouting andstruggling to put them down. No voice would have had wing enough torise above the uproar, and Mr. Brooke, disagreeably anointed, stood hisground no longer. The frustration would have been less exasperating if ithad been less gamesome and boyish: a serious assault of which thenewspaper reporter "can aver that it endangered the learned gentleman'sribs," or can respectfully bear witness to "the soles of that gentleman'sboots having been visible above the railing," has perhaps moreconsolations attached to it.
Mr. Brooke re-entered the committee-room, saying, as carelessly ashe could, "This is a little too bad, you know. I should have got the ear ofthe people by-and-by—but they didn't give me time. I should have goneinto the Bill by-and-by, you know," he added, glancing at Ladislaw."However, things will come all right at the nomination."
But it was not resolved unanimously that things would come right;on the contrary, the committee looked rather grim, and the politicalpersonage from Brassing was writing busily, as if he were brewing newdevices.
"It was Bowyer who did it," said Mr. Standish, evasively. "I know itas well as if he had been advertised. He's uncommonly good atventriloquism, and he did it uncommonly well, by God! Hawley has beenhaving him to dinner lately: there's a fund of talent in Bowyer."
"Well, you know, you never mentioned him to me, Standish, else Iwould have invited him to dine," said poor Mr. Brooke, who had gonethrough a great deal of inviting for the good of his country.
"There's not a more paltry fellow in Middlemarch than Bowyer," saidLadislaw, indignantly, "but it seems as if the paltry fellows were alwaysto turn the scale."
Will was thoroughly out of temper with himself as well as with his"principal," and he went to shut himself in his rooms with a half-formedresolve to throw up the "Pioneer" and Mr. Brooke together. Why shouldhe stay? If the impassable gulf between himself and Dorothea were everto be filled up, it must rather be by his going away and getting into athoroughly different position than by staying here and slipping intodeserved contempt as an understrapper of Brooke's. Then came theyoung dream of wonders that he might do—in five years, for example:political writing, political speaking, would get a higher value now publiclife was going to be wider and more national, and they might give himsuch distinction that he would not seem to be asking Dorothea to stepdown to him. Five years:—if he could only be sure that she cared for himmore than for others; if he could only make her aware that he stood aloofuntil he could tell his love without lowering himself—then he could goaway easily, and begin a career which at five-and-twenty seemedprobable enough in the inward order of things, where talent brings fame,and fame everything else which is delightful. He could speak and hecould write; he could master any subject if he chose, and he meantalways to take the side of reason and justice, on which he would carry allhis ardor. Why should he not one day be lifted above the shoulders ofthe crowd, and feel that he had won that eminence well? Without doubthe would leave Middlemarch, go to town, and make himself fit forcelebrity by "eating his dinners."
But not immediately: not until some kind of sign had passed betweenhim and Dorothea. He could not be satisfied until she knew why, even ifhe were the man she would choose to marry, he would not marry her.Hence he must keep his post and bear with Mr. Brooke a little longer.
But he soon had reason to suspect that Mr. Brooke had anticipatedhim in the wish to break up their connection. Deputations without andvoices within had concurred in inducing that philanthropist to take astronger measure than usual for the good of mankind; namely, towithdraw in favor of another candidate, to whom he left the advantagesof his canvassing machinery. He himself called this a strong measure, butobserved that his health was less capable of sustaining excitement thanhe had imagined.
"I have felt uneasy about the chest—it won't do to carry that too far,"he said to Ladislaw in explaining the affair. "I must pull up. PoorCasaubon was a warning, you know. I've made some heavy advances,but I've dug a channel. It's rather coarse work—this electioneering, eh,Ladislaw? dare say you are tired of it. However, we have dug a channelwith the 'Pioneer'—put things in a track, and so on. A more ordinaryman than you might carry it on now—more ordinary, you know."
"Do you wish me to give it up?" said Will, the quick color coming inhis face, as he rose from the writing-table, and took a turn of three stepswith his hands in his pockets. "I am ready to do so whenever you wishit."
"As to wishing, my dear Ladislaw, I have the highest opinion of yourpowers, you know. But about the 'Pioneer,' I have been consulting a littlewith some of the men on our side, and they are inclined to take it intotheir hands—indemnify me to a certain extent—carry it on, in fact. Andunder the circumstances, you might like to give up—might find a betterfield. These people might not take that high view of you which I havealways taken, as an alter ego, a right hand—though I always lookedforward to your doing something else. I think of having a run intoFrance. But I'll write you any letters, you know—to Althorpe and peopleof that kind. I've met Althorpe."
"I am exceedingly obliged to you," said Ladislaw, proudly. "Since youare going to part with the 'Pioneer,' I need not trouble you about thesteps I shall take. I may choose to continue here for the present."
After Mr. Brooke had left him Will said to himself, "The rest of thefamily have been urging him to get rid of me, and he doesn't care nowabout my going. I shall stay as long as I like. I shall go of my ownmovements and not because they are afraid of me."
CHAPTER LII.
"His heart
The lowliest duties on itself did lay."
—WORDSWORTH.
On that June evening when Mr. Farebrother knew that he was tohave the Lowick living, there was joy in the old fashioned parlor, andeven the portraits of the great lawyers seemed to look on withsatisfaction. His mother left her tea and toast untouched, but sat withher usual pretty primness, only showing her emotion by that flush in thecheeks and brightness in the eyes which give an old woman a touchingmomentary identity with her far-off youthful self, and saying decisively—
"The greatest comfort, Camden, is that you have deserved it."
"When a man gets a good berth, mother, half the deserving mustcome after," said the son, brimful of pleasure, and not trying to concealit. The gladness in his face was of that active kind which seems to haveenergy enough not only to flash outwardly, but to light up busy visionwithin: one seemed to see thoughts, as well as delight, in his glances.
"Now, aunt," he went on, rubbing his hands and looking at MissNoble, who was making tender little beaver-like noises, "There shall besugar-candy always on the table for you to steal and give to the children,and you shall have a great many new stockings to make presents of, andyou shall darn your own more than ever!"
Miss Noble nodded at her nephew with a subdued half-frightenedlaugh, conscious of having already dropped an additional lump of sugarinto her basket on the strength of the new preferment.
"As for you, Winny"—the Vicar went on—"I shall make no difficultyabout your marrying any Lowick bachelor—Mr. Solomon Featherstone,for example, as soon as I find you are in love with him."
Miss Winifred, who had been looking at her brother all the while andcrying heartily, which was her way of rejoicing, smiled through her tearsand said, "You must set me the example, Cam: you must marry now."
"With all my heart. But who is in love with me? I am a seedy oldfellow," said the Vicar, rising, pushing his chair away and looking downat himself. "What do you say, mother?"
"You are a handsome man, Camden: though not so fine a figure of aman as your father," said the old lady.
"I wish you would marry Miss Garth, brother," said Miss Winifred."She would make us so lively at Lowick."
"Very fine! You talk as if young women were tied up to be chosen,like poultry at market; as if I had only to ask and everybody would haveme," said the Vicar, not caring to specify.
"We don't want everybody," said Miss Winifred. "But you would likeMiss Garth, mother, shouldn't you?"
"My son's choice shall be mine," said Mrs. Farebrother, with majesticdiscretion, "and a wife would be most welcome, Camden. You will wantyour whist at home when we go to Lowick, and Henrietta Noble neverwas a whist-player." (Mrs. Farebrother always called her tiny old sisterby that magnificent name.)
"I shall do without whist now, mother."
"Why so, Camden? In my time whist was thought an undeniableamusement for a good churchman," said Mrs. Farebrother, innocent ofthe meaning that whist had for her son, and speaking rather sharply, asat some dangerous countenancing of new doctrine.
"I shall be too busy for whist; I shall have two parishes," said theVicar, preferring not to discuss the virtues of that game.
He had already said to Dorothea, "I don't feel bound to give up St.Botolph's. It is protest enough against the pluralism they want to reformif I give somebody else most of the money. The stronger thing is not togive up power, but to use it well."
