NEMESIS.
But in spite of all these joyful tidings it must, alas! be remembered
that Pœna, that just but Rhadamanthine goddess, whom we moderns
ordinarily call Punishment, or Nemesis when we wish to speak of her
goddess-ship, very seldom fails to catch a wicked man though she
have sometimes a lame foot of her own, and though the wicked man may
possibly get a start of her. In this instance the wicked man had been
our unfortunate friend Mark Robarts; wicked in that he had wittingly
touched pitch, gone to Gatherum Castle, ridden fast mares across the
country to Cobbold’s Ashes, and fallen very imprudently among the
Tozers; and the instrument used by Nemesis was Mr. Tom Towers of the
_Jupiter_, than whom, in these our days, there is no deadlier scourge
in the hands of that goddess.
In the first instance, however, I must mention, though I will not
relate, a little conversation which took place between Lady Lufton
and Mr. Robarts. That gentleman thought it right to say a few words
more to her ladyship respecting those money transactions. He could
not but feel, he said, that he had received that prebendal stall from
the hands of Mr. Sowerby; and under such circumstances, considering
all that had happened, he could not be easy in his mind as long
as he held it. What he was about to do would, he was aware, delay
considerably his final settlement with Lord Lufton; but Lufton, he
hoped, would pardon that, and agree with him as to the propriety of
what he was about to do.
On the first blush of the thing Lady Lufton did not quite go along
with him. Now that Lord Lufton was to marry the parson’s sister it
might be well that the parson should be a dignitary of the Church;
and it might be well, also, that one so nearly connected with her son
should be comfortable in his money matters. There loomed also, in the
future, some distant possibility of higher clerical honours for a
peer’s brother-in-law; and the top rung of the ladder is always more
easily attained when a man has already ascended a step or two. But,
nevertheless, when the matter came to be fully explained to her, when
she saw clearly the circumstances under which the stall had been
conferred, she did agree that it had better be given up.
And well for both of them it was—well for them all at Framley—that
this conclusion had been reached before the scourge of Nemesis had
fallen. Nemesis, of course, declared that her scourge had produced
the resignation; but it was generally understood that this was a
false boast, for all clerical men at Barchester knew that the stall
had been restored to the chapter, or, in other words, into the hands
of the Government, before Tom Towers had twirled the fatal lash above
his head. But the manner of the twirling was as follows:—
It is with difficulty enough [said the article in the
_Jupiter_], that the Church of England maintains at the
present moment that ascendancy among the religious sects
of this country which it so loudly claims. And perhaps
it is rather from an old-fashioned and time-honoured
affection for its standing than from any intrinsic merits
of its own that some such general acknowledgment of its
ascendancy is still allowed to prevail. If, however, the
patrons and clerical members of this Church are bold
enough to disregard all general rules of decent behaviour,
we think we may predict that this chivalrous feeling
will be found to give way. From time to time we hear of
instances of such imprudence, and are made to wonder at
the folly of those who are supposed to hold the State
Church in the greatest reverence.
Among those positions of dignified ease to which fortunate
clergymen may be promoted are the stalls of the canons
or prebendaries in our cathedrals. Some of these, as is
well known, carry little or no emolument with them, but
some are rich in the good things of this world. Excellent
family houses are attached to them, with we hardly know
what domestic privileges, and clerical incomes, moreover,
of an amount which, if divided, would make glad the hearts
of many a hard-working clerical slave. Reform has been
busy even among these stalls, attaching some amount of
work to the pay, and paring off some superfluous wealth
from such of them as were over full; but reform has been
lenient with them, acknowledging that it was well to have
some such places of comfortable and dignified retirement
for those who have worn themselves out in the hard work of
their profession. There has of late prevailed a taste for
the appointment of young bishops, produced no doubt by a
feeling that bishops should be men fitted to get through
really hard work; but we have never heard that young
prebendaries were considered desirable. A clergyman
selected for such a position should, we have always
thought, have earned an evening of ease by a long day of
work, and should, above all things, be one whose life
has been, and therefore in human probability will be,
so decorous as to be honourable to the cathedral of his
adoption.
We were, however, the other day given to understand
that one of these luxurious benefices, belonging to the
cathedral of Barchester, had been bestowed on the Rev.
Mark Robarts, the vicar of a neighbouring parish, on the
understanding that he should hold the living and the
stall together; and on making further inquiry we were
surprised to learn that this fortunate gentleman is as yet
considerably under thirty years of age. We were desirous,
however, of believing that his learning, his piety, and
his conduct, might be of a nature to add peculiar grace to
his chapter, and therefore, though almost unwillingly, we
were silent. But now it has come to our ears, and, indeed,
to the ears of all the world, that this piety and conduct
are sadly wanting; and judging of Mr. Robarts by his
life and associates, we are inclined to doubt even the
learning. He has at this moment, or at any rate had but
a few days since, an execution in his parsonage house at
Framley, on the suit of certain most disreputable bill
discounters in London; and probably would have another
execution in his other house in Barchester close, but for
the fact that he has never thought it necessary to go into
residence.
Then followed some very stringent, and, no doubt, much-needed advice
to those clerical members of the Church of England who are supposed
to be mainly responsible for the conduct of their brethren; and the
article ended as follows:—
Many of these stalls are in the gift of the respective
deans and chapters, and in such cases the dean and
chapters are bound to see that proper persons are
appointed; but in other instances the power of selection
is vested in the Crown, and then an equal responsibility
rests on the government of the day. Mr. Robarts, we learn,
was appointed to the stall in Barchester by the late Prime
Minister, and we really think that a grave censure rests
on him for the manner in which his patronage has been
exercised. It may be impossible that he should himself in
all such cases satisfy himself by personal inquiry. But
our government is altogether conducted on the footing of
vicarial responsibility. _Quod facit per alium, facit per
se_, is in a special manner true of our ministers, and
any man who rises to high position among them must abide
by the danger thereby incurred. In this peculiar case
we are informed that the recommendation was made by a
very recently admitted member of the Cabinet, to whose
appointment we alluded at the time as a great mistake. The
gentleman in question held no high individual office of
his own; but evil such as this which has now been done at
Barchester, is exactly the sort of mischief which follows
the exaltation of unfit men to high positions, even though
no great scope for executive failure may be placed within
their reach.
If Mr. Robarts will allow us to tender to him our advice,
he will lose no time in going through such ceremony as may
be necessary again to place the stall at the disposal of
the Crown!
I may here observe that poor Harold Smith, when he read this,
writhing in agony, declared it to be the handiwork of his hated
enemy, Mr. Supplehouse. He knew the mark; so, at least, he said; but
I myself am inclined to believe that his animosity misled him. I
think that one greater than Mr. Supplehouse had taken upon himself
the punishment of our poor vicar.
This was very dreadful to them all at Framley, and, when first read,
seemed to crush them to atoms. Poor Mrs. Robarts, when she heard it,
seemed to think that for them the world was over. An attempt had been
made to keep it from her, but such attempts always fail, as did this.
The article was copied into all the good-natured local newspapers,
and she soon discovered that something was being hidden. At last it
was shown to her by her husband, and then for a few hours she was
annihilated; for a few days she was unwilling to show herself; and
for a few weeks she was very sad. But after that the world seemed to
go on much as it had done before; the sun shone upon them as warmly
as though the article had not been written; and not only the sun
of heaven, which, as a rule, is not limited in his shining by any
display of pagan thunder, but also the genial sun of their own
sphere, the warmth and light of which were so essentially necessary
to their happiness. Neighbouring rectors did not look glum, nor
did the rectors’ wives refuse to call. The people in the shops at
Barchester did not regard her as though she were a disgraced woman,
though it must be acknowledged that Mrs. Proudie passed her in the
close with the coldest nod of recognition.
On Mrs. Proudie’s mind alone did the article seem to have any
enduring effect. In one respect it was, perhaps, beneficial; Lady
Lufton was at once induced by it to make common cause with her own
clergyman, and thus the remembrance of Mr. Robarts’ sins passed away
the quicker from the minds of the whole Framley Court household.
And, indeed, the county at large was not able to give to the matter
that undivided attention which would have been considered its due
at periods of no more than ordinary interest. At the present moment
preparations were being made for a general election, and although no
contest was to take place in the eastern division, a very violent
fight was being carried on in the west; and the circumstances
of that fight were so exciting that Mr. Robarts and his article
were forgotten before their time. An edict had gone forth from
Gatherum Castle directing that Mr. Sowerby should be turned out, and
an answering note of defiance had been sounded from Chaldicotes,
protesting on behalf of Mr. Sowerby, that the duke’s behest would not
be obeyed.
There are two classes of persons in this realm who are
constitutionally inefficient to take any part in returning members
to Parliament—peers, namely, and women; and yet it was soon known
through the whole length and breadth of the county that the present
electioneering fight was being carried on between a peer and a
woman. Miss Dunstable had been declared the purchaser of the Chace
of Chaldicotes, as it were, just in the very nick of time; which
purchase—so men in Barsetshire declared, not knowing anything of the
facts—would have gone altogether the other way, had not the giants
obtained temporary supremacy over the gods. The duke was a supporter
of the gods, and therefore, so Mr. Fothergill hinted, his money had
been refused. Miss Dunstable was prepared to beard this ducal friend
of the gods in his own county, and therefore her money had been
taken. I am inclined, however, to think that Mr. Fothergill knew
nothing about it, and to opine that Miss Dunstable, in her eagerness
for victory, offered to the Crown more money than the property was
worth in the duke’s opinion, and that the Crown took advantage of her
anxiety, to the manifest profit of the public at large.
And it soon became known also that Miss Dunstable was, in fact, the
proprietor of the whole Chaldicotes estate, and that in promoting
the success of Mr. Sowerby as a candidate for the county, she was
standing by her own tenant. It also became known, in the course
of the battle, that Miss Dunstable had herself at last succumbed,
and that she was about to marry Dr. Thorne of Greshamsbury, or the
“Greshamsbury apothecary,” as the adverse party now delighted to call
him. “He has been little better than a quack all his life,” said Dr.
Fillgrave, the eminent physician of Barchester, “and now he is going
to marry a quack’s daughter.” By which, and the like to which, Dr.
Thorne did not allow himself to be much annoyed.
But all this gave rise to a very pretty series of squibs arranged
between Mr. Fothergill and Mr. Closerstill, the electioneering agent.
Mr. Sowerby was named “the lady’s pet,” and descriptions were given
of the lady who kept this pet, which were by no means flattering to
Miss Dunstable’s appearance, or manners, or age. And then the western
division of the county was asked in a grave tone—as counties and
boroughs are asked by means of advertisements stuck up on blind walls
and barn doors—whether it was fitting and proper that it should be
represented by a woman. Upon which the county was again asked whether
it was fitting and proper that it should be represented by a duke.
And then the question became more personal as against Miss Dunstable,
and inquiry was urged whether the county would not be indelibly
disgraced if it were not only handed over to a woman, but handed over
to a woman who sold the oil of Lebanon. But little was got by this
move, for an answering placard explained to the unfortunate county
how deep would be its shame if it allowed itself to become the
appanage of any peer, but more especially of a peer who was known to
be the most immoral lord that ever disgraced the benches of the upper
house.
And so the battle went on very prettily, and, as money was allowed
to flow freely, the West Barsetshire world at large was not ill
satisfied. It is wonderful how much disgrace of that kind a borough
or county can endure without flinching; and wonderful, also, seeing
how supreme is the value attached to the constitution by the realm at
large, how very little the principles of that constitution are valued
by the people in detail. The duke, of course, did not show himself.
He rarely did on any occasion, and never on such occasions as this;
but Mr. Fothergill was to be seen everywhere. Miss Dunstable, also,
did not hide her light under a bushel; though I here declare, on the
faith of an historian, that the rumour spread abroad of her having
made a speech to the electors from the top of the porch over the
hotel-door at Courcy was not founded on fact. No doubt she was at
Courcy, and her carriage stopped at the hotel; but neither there
nor elsewhere did she make any public exhibition. “They must have
mistaken me for Mrs. Proudie,” she said, when the rumour reached her
ears.
But there was, alas! one great element of failure on Miss Dunstable’s
side of the battle. Mr. Sowerby himself could not be induced to fight
it as became a man. Any positive injunctions that were laid upon him
he did, in a sort, obey. It had been a part of the bargain that he
should stand the contest, and from that bargain he could not well go
back; but he had not the spirit left to him for any true fighting on
his own part. He could not go up on the hustings, and there defy the
duke. Early in the affair Mr. Fothergill challenged him to do so, and
Mr. Sowerby never took up the gauntlet.
“We have heard,” said Mr. Fothergill, in that great speech which he
made at the Omnium Arms at Silverbridge—“we have heard much during
this election of the Duke of Omnium, and of the injuries which he
is supposed to have inflicted on one of the candidates. The duke’s
name is very frequent in the mouths of the gentlemen,—and of the
lady,—who support Mr. Sowerby’s claims. But I do not think that
Mr. Sowerby himself has dared to say much about the duke. I defy Mr.
Sowerby to mention the duke’s name upon the hustings.”
And it so happened that Mr. Sowerby never did mention the duke’s
name.
It is ill fighting when the spirit is gone, and Mr. Sowerby’s spirit
for such things was now well nigh broken. It is true that he had
escaped from the net in which the duke, by Mr. Fothergill’s aid,
had entangled him; but he had only broken out of one captivity into
another. Money is a serious thing; and when gone cannot be had back
by a shuffle in the game, or a fortunate blow with the battledore, as
may political power, or reputation, or fashion. One hundred thousand
pounds gone, must remain as gone, let the person who claims to have
had the honour of advancing it be Mrs. B. or my Lord C. No lucky
dodge can erase such a claim from the things that be—unless, indeed,
such dodge be possible as Mr. Sowerby tried with Miss Dunstable. It
was better for him, undoubtedly, to have the lady for a creditor than
the duke, seeing that it was possible for him to live as a tenant in
his own old house under the lady’s reign. But this he found to be a
sad enough life, after all that was come and gone.
The election on Miss Dunstable’s part was lost. She carried on
the contest nobly, fighting it to the last moment, and sparing
neither her own money nor that of her antagonist; but she carried
it on unsuccessfully. Many gentlemen did support Mr. Sowerby
because they were willing enough to emancipate their county from
the duke’s thraldom; but Mr. Sowerby was felt to be a black
sheep, as Lady Lufton had called him, and at the close of the
election he found himself banished from the representation of West
Barsetshire;—banished for ever, after having held the county for
five-and-twenty years.
Unfortunate Mr. Sowerby! I cannot take leave of him here without
some feeling of regret, knowing that there was that within him which
might, under better guidance, have produced better things. There are
men, even of high birth, who seem as though they were born to be
rogues; but Mr. Sowerby was, to my thinking, born to be a gentleman.
That he had not been a gentleman—that he had bolted from his
appointed course, going terribly on the wrong side of the posts—let
us all acknowledge. It is not a gentlemanlike deed, but a very
blackguard action, to obtain a friend’s acceptance to a bill in an
unguarded hour of social intercourse. That and other similar doings
have stamped his character too plainly. But, nevertheless, I claim a
tear for Mr. Sowerby, and lament that he has failed to run his race
discreetly, in accordance with the rules of the Jockey Club.
He attempted that plan of living as a tenant in his old house at
Chaldicotes and of making a living out of the land which he farmed;
but he soon abandoned it. He had no aptitude for such industry,
and could not endure his altered position in the county. He soon
relinquished Chaldicotes of his own accord, and has vanished away, as
such men do vanish—not altogether without necessary income; to which
point in the final arrangement of their joint affairs, Mrs. Thorne’s
man of business—if I may be allowed so far to anticipate—paid
special attention.
And thus Lord Dumbello, the duke’s nominee, got in, as the duke’s
nominee had done for very many years past. There was no Nemesis
here—none as yet. Nevertheless, she with the lame foot will
assuredly catch him, the duke, if it be that he deserve to be caught.
With us his grace’s appearance has been so unfrequent that I think we
may omit to make any further inquiry as to his concerns.
One point, however, is worthy of notice, as showing the good sense
with which we manage our affairs here in England. In an early portion
of this story the reader was introduced to the interior of Gatherum
Castle, and there saw Miss Dunstable entertained by the duke in the
most friendly manner. Since those days the lady has become the duke’s
neighbour, and has waged a war with him, which he probably felt to
be very vexatious. But, nevertheless, on the next great occasion at
Gatherum Castle, Doctor and Mrs. Thorne were among the visitors, and
to no one was the duke more personally courteous than to his opulent
neighbour, the late Miss Dunstable.