米德尔马契 英文版 Middlemarch
乔治.艾略特 George Eliot
CHAPTER LXIV. Page 1
1st Gent. Where lies the power, there let the blame lie too.2d Gent. Nay, power is relative; you cannot frightThe coming pest with border fortresses,Or catch your carp with subtle argument.All force is twain in one: cause is not causeUnless effect be there; and action's selfMust needs contain a passive. So commandExists but with obedience."
Even if Lydgate had been inclined to be quite open about his affairs,he knew that it would have hardly been in Mr. Farebrother's powerto give him the help he immediately wanted. With the year's billscoming in from his tradesmen, with Dover's threatening hold onhis furniture, and with nothing to depend on but slow dribblingpayments from patients who must not be offended--for the handsomefees he had had from Freshitt Hall and Lowick Manor had beeneasily absorbed--nothing less than a thousand pounds would havefreed him from actual embarrassment, and left a residue which,according to the favorite phrase of hopefulness in such circumstances,would have given him "time to look about him."
Naturally, the merry Christmas bringing the happy New Year,when fellow-citizens expect to be paid for the trouble and goodsthey have smilingly bestowed on their neighbors, had so tightenedthe pressure of sordid cares on Lydgate's mind that it was hardlypossible for him to think unbrokenly of any other subject, even themost habitual and soliciting. He was not an ill-tempered man;his intellectual activity, the ardent kindness of his heart, as wellas his strong frame, would always, under tolerably easy conditions,have kept him above the petty uncontrolled susceptibilities which makebad temper. But he was now a prey to that worst irritation whicharises not simply from annoyances, but from the second consciousnessunderlying those annoyances, of wasted energy and a degradingpreoccupation, which was the reverse of all his former purposes."_This_ is what I am thinking of; and _that_ is what I mighthave been thinking of," was the bitter incessant murmur within him,making every difficulty a double goad to impatience.
Some gentlemen have made an amazing figure in literature by generaldiscontent with the universe as a trap of dulness into which theirgreat souls have fallen by mistake; but the sense of a stupendousself and an insignificant world may have its consolations.Lydgate's discontent was much harder to bear: it was the sense thatthere was a grand existence in thought and effective action lyingaround him, while his self was being narrowed into the miserableisolation of egoistic fears, and vulgar anxieties for events that mightallay such fears. His troubles will perhaps appear miserably sordid,and beneath the attention of lofty persons who can know nothingof debt except on a magnificent scale. Doubtless they were sordid;and for the majority, who are not lofty, there is no escape fromsordidness but by being free from money-craving, with all its basehopes and temptations, its watching for death, its hinted requests.its horse-dealer's desire to make bad work pass for good,its seeking for function which ought to be another's, its compulsionoften to long for Luck in the shape of a wide calamity.
It was because Lydgate writhed under the idea of getting his neckbeneath this vile yoke that he had fallen into a bitter moody statewhich was continually widening Rosamond's alienation from him.After the first disclosure about the bill of sale, he had mademany efforts to draw her into sympathy with him about possiblemeasures for narrowing their expenses, and with the threateningapproach of Christmas his propositions grew more and more definite."We two can do with only one servant, and live on very little,"he said, "and I shall manage with one horse." For Lydgate,as we have seen, had begun to reason, with a more distinct vision,about the expenses of living, and any share of pride he had given toappearances of that sort was meagre compared with the pride which madehim revolt from exposure as a debtor, or from asking men to help himwith their money.
"Of course you can dismiss the other two servants, if you like,"said Rosamond; "but I should have thought it would be very injuriousto your position for us to live in a poor way. You must expectyour practice to be lowered."
"My dear Rosamond, it is not a question of choice. We have beguntoo expensively. Peacock, you know, lived in a much smaller housethan this. It is my fault: I ought to have known better, and Ideserve a thrashing--if there were anybody who had a right to giveit me--for bringing you into the necessity of living in a poorerway than you have been used to. But we married because we lovedeach other, I suppose. And that may help us to pull along tillthings get better. Come, dear, put down that work and come to me."
He was really in chill gloom about her at that moment, but he dreadeda future without affection, and was determined to resist the oncomingof division between them. Rosamond obeyed him, and he took her onhis knee, but in her secret soul she was utterly aloof from him.The poor thing saw only that the world was not ordered to her liking,and Lydgate was part of that world. But he held her waist with onehand and laid the other gently on both of hers; for this rather abruptman had much tenderness in his manners towards women, seeming tohave always present in his imagination the weakness of their framesand the delicate poise of their health both in body and mind.And he began again to speak persuasively.
"I find, now I look into things a little, Rosy, that it is wonderfulwhat an amount of money slips away in our housekeeping. I supposethe servants are careless, and we have had a great many people coming.But there must be many in our rank who manage with much less:they must do with commoner things, I suppose, and look afterthe scraps. It seems, money goes but a little way in these matters,for Wrench has everything as plain as possible, and he has a verylarge practice."
"Oh, if you think of living as the Wrenches do!" said Rosamond,with a little turn of her neck. "But I have heard you express yourdisgust at that way of living."
"Yes, they have bad taste in everything--they make economy look ugly.We needn't do that. I only meant that they avoid expenses,although Wrench has a capital practice."
Lydgate's anger rose: he was prepared to be indulgent towardsfeminine weakness, but not towards feminine dictation.The shallowness of a waternixie's soul may have a charm untilshe becomes didactic. But he controlled himself, and only said,with a touch of despotic firmness--
"What I am to do in my practice, Rosy, it is for me to judge.That is not the question between us. It is enough for youto know that our income is likely to be a very narrow one--hardly four hundred, perhaps less, for a long time to come, and wemust try to re-arrange our lives in accordance with that fact."
Rosamond was silent for a moment or two, looking before her,and then said, "My uncle Bulstrode ought to allow you a salaryfor the time you give to the Hospital: it is not right that youshould work for nothing."
"It was understood from the beginning that my services wouldbe gratuitous. That, again, need not enter into our discussion.I have pointed out what is the only probability," said Lydgate,impatiently. Then checking himself, he went on more quietly--
"I think I see one resource which would free us from a good dealof the present difficulty. I hear that young Ned Plymdale is goingto be married to Miss Sophy Toller. They are rich, and it is not oftenthat a good house is vacant in Middlemarch. I feel sure that theywould be glad to take this house from us with most of our furniture,and they would be willing to pay handsomely for the lease.I can employ Trumbull to speak to Plymdale about it."
Rosamond left her husband's knee and walked slowly to the otherend of the room; when she turned round and walked towards him itwas evident that the tears had come, and that she was biting herunder-lip and clasping her hands to keep herself from crying.Lydgate was wretched--shaken with anger and yet feeling that itwould be unmanly to vent the anger just now.
"I am very sorry, Rosamond; I know this is painful."
"I thought, at least, when I had borne to send the plate backand have that man taking an inventory of the furniture--I shouldhave thought _that_ would suffice."
"I explained it to you at the time, dear. That was only a securityand behind that Security there is a debt. And that debt must be paidwithin the next few months, else we shall have our furniture sold.If young Plymdale will take our house and most of our furniture,we shall be able to pay that debt, and some others too, and weshall be quit of a place too expensive for us. We might takea smaller house: Trumbull, I know, has a very decent one to letat thirty pounds a-year, and this is ninety." Lydgate uttered thisspeech in the curt hammering way with which we usually try to naildown a vague mind to imperative facts. Tears rolled silently downRosamond's cheeks; she just pressed her handkerchief against them,and stood looking at the large vase on the mantel-piece. It wasa moment of more intense bitterness than she had ever felt before.At last she said, without hurry and with careful emphasis--
"I never could have believed that you would like to act in that way."
"Like it?" burst out Lydgate, rising from his chair, thrusting hishands in his pockets and stalking away from the hearth; "it's nota question of liking. Of course, I don't like it; it's the onlything I can do." He wheeled round there, and turned towards her.
"I should have thought there were many other means than that,"said Rosamond. "Let us have a sale and leave Middlemarch altogether."
"To do what? What is the use of my leaving my work in Middlemarchto go where I have none? We should be just as penniless elsewhereas we are here," said Lydgate still more angrily.
"If we are to be in that position it will be entirely yourown doing, Tertius," said Rosamond, turning round to speakwith the fullest conviction. "You will not behave as you oughtto do to your own family. You offended Captain Lydgate.Sir Godwin was very kind to me when we were at Quallingham,and I am sure if you showed proper regard to him and told himyour affairs, he would do anything for you. But rather than that,you like giving up our house and furniture to Mr. Ned Plymdale."
There was something like fierceness in Lydgate's eyes, as heanswered with new violence, "Well, then, if you will have it so,I do like it. I admit that I like it better than making a foolof myself by going to beg where it's of no use. Understand then,that it is what I _like to do._"
There was a tone in the last sentence which was equivalentto the clutch of his strong hand on Rosamond's delicate arm.But for all that, his will was not a whit stronger than hers.She immediately walked out of the room in silence, but with an intensedetermination to hinder what Lydgate liked to do.
He went out of the house, but as his blood cooled he felt that the chiefresult of the discussion was a deposit of dread within him at the ideaof opening with his wife in future subjects which might again urgehim to violent speech. It was as if a fracture in delicate crystalhad begun, and he was afraid of any movement that might mate it fatal.His marriage would be a mere piece of bitter irony if they couldnot go on loving each other. He had long ago made up his mind towhat he thought was her negative character--her want of sensibility,which showed itself in disregard both of his specific wishes and ofhis general aims. The first great disappointment had been borne:the tender devotedness and docile adoration of the ideal wife mustbe renounced, and life must be taken up on a lower stage of expectation,as it is by men who have lost their limbs. But the real wifehad not only her claims, she had still a hold on his heart,and it was his intense desire that the hold should remain strong.In marriage, the certainty, "She will never love me much,"is easier to bear than the fear, "I shall love her no more." Hence,after that outburst, his inward effort was entirely to excuse her,and to blame the hard circumstances which were partly his fault.He tried that evening, by petting her, to heal the wound he hadmade in the morning, and it was not in Rosamond's nature to berepellent or sulky; indeed, she welcomed the signs that her husbandloved her and was under control. But this was something quitedistinct from loving _him_. Lydgate would not have chosen soonto recur to the plan of parting with the house; he was resolvedto carry it out, and say as little more about it as possible.But Rosamond herself touched on it at breakfast by saying, mildly--
"Have you spoken to Trumbull yet?"
"No," said Lydgate, "but I shall call on him as I go by this morning.No time must be lost." He took Rosamond's question as a sign thatshe withdrew her inward opposition, and kissed her head caressinglywhen he got up to go away.
As soon as it was late enough to make a call, Rosamond went to Mrs.Plymdale, Mr. Ned's mother, and entered with pretty congratulationsinto the subject of the coming marriage. Mrs. Plymdale's maternalview was, that Rosamond might possibly now have retrospectiveglimpses of her own folly; and feeling the advantages to be atpresent all on the side of her son, was too kind a woman not tobehave graciously.
"Yes, Ned is most happy, I must say. And Sophy Toller is allI could desire in a daughter-in-law. Of course her father isable to do something handsome for her--that is only what wouldbe expected with a brewery like his. And the connection iseverything we should desire. But that is not what I look at.She is such a very nice girl--no airs, no pretensions, though ona level with the first. I don't mean with the titled aristocracy.I see very little good in people aiming out of their own sphere.I mean that Sophy is equal to the best in the town, and she iscontented with that."
"I have always thought her very agreeable," said Rosamond.
thought in them. painful."had.You should be more careful not.
"I look upon it as a reward for Ned, who never held his headtoo high, that he should have got into the very best connection,"continued Mrs. Plymdale, her native sharpness softened by a fervidsense that she was taking a correct view. "And such particular peopleas the Tollers are, they might have objected because some of ourfriends are not theirs. It is well known that your aunt Bulstrodeand I have been intimate from our youth, and Mr. Plymdale has beenalways on Mr. Bulstrode's side. And I myself prefer serious opinions.But the Tollers have welcomed Ned all the same."
"I am sure he is a very deserving, well-principled young man,"said Rosamond, with a neat air of patronage in return forMrs. Plymdale's wholesome corrections.
"Oh, he has not the style of a captain in the army, or that sortof carriage as if everybody was beneath him, or that showy kindof talking, and singing, and intellectual talent. But I am thankfulhe has not. It is a poor preparation both for here and Hereafter."
living as the Wrenches do!" said Rosamond,with a!
"Oh dear, yes; appearances have very little to do with happiness,"said Rosamond. "I think there is every prospect of their being ahappy couple. What house will they take?"
"Oh, as for that, they must put up with what they can get.They have been looking at the house in St. Peter's Place, next toMr. Hackbutt's; it belongs to him, and he is putting it nicelyin repair. I suppose they are not likely to hear of a better.Indeed, I think Ned will decide the matter to-day."
"I should think it is a nice house; I like St. Peter's Place."
"Well, it is near the Church, and a genteel situation.But the windows are narrow, and it is all ups and downs.You don't happen to know of any other that would be at liberty?"said Mrs. Plymdale, fixing her round black eyes on Rosamondwith the animation of a sudden thought in them.
"Oh no; I hear so little of those things."
Rosamond had not foreseen that question and answer in setting out to payher visit; she had simply meant to gather any information which wouldhelp her to avert the parting with her own house under circumstancesthoroughly disagreeable to her. As to the untruth in her reply,she no more reflected on it than she did on the untruth there wasin her saying that appearances had very little to do with happiness.Her object, she was convinced, was thoroughly justifiable:it was Lydgate whose intention was inexcusable; and there was a planin her mind which, when she had carried it out fully, would provehow very false a step it would have been for him to have descendedfrom his position.
She returned home by Mr. Borthrop Trumbull's office, meaning tocall there. It was the first time in her life that Rosamond hadthought of doing anything in the form of business, but she feltequal to the occasion. That she should be obliged to do what sheintensely disliked, was an idea which turned her quiet tenacityinto active invention. Here was a case in which it could not beenough simply to disobey and be serenely, placidly obstinate:she must act according to her judgment, and she said to herselfthat her judgment was right--"indeed, if it had not been,she would not have wished to act on it."
Mr. Trumbull was in the back-room of his office, and receivedRosamond with his finest manners, not only because he had muchsensibility to her charms, but because the good-natured fibre in himwas stirred by his certainty that Lydgate was in difficulties,and that this uncommonly pretty woman--this young lady with the highestpersonal attractions--was likely to feel the pinch of trouble--to find herself involved in circumstances beyond her control.He begged her to do him the honor to take a seat, and stood beforeher trimming and comporting himself with an eager solicitude,which was chiefly benevolent. Rosamond's first question was,whether her husband had called on Mr. Trumbull that morning, to speakabout disposing of their house.
"Yes, ma'am, yes, he did; he did so," said the good auctioneer,trying to throw something soothing into his iteration."I was about to fulfil his order, if possible, this afternoon.He wished me not to procrastinate."
"I called to tell you not to go any further, Mr. Trumbull;and I beg of you not to mention what has been said on the subject.Will you oblige me?"
"Certainly I will, Mrs. Lydgate, certainly. Confidence is sacredwith me on business or any other topic. I am then to consider thecommission withdrawn?" said Mr. Trumbull, adjusting the long endsof his blue cravat with both hands, and looking at Rosamond deferentially.
"Yes, if you please. I find that Mr. Ned Plymdale has taken a house--the one in St. Peter's Place next to Mr. Hackbutt's. Mr. Lydgatewould be annoyed that his orders should be fulfilled uselessly.And besides that, there are other circumstances which render theproposal unnecessary."