CONCLUSION
The end of a novel, like the end of a children's dinner-party, must
be made up of sweetmeats and sugar-plums. There is now nothing else
to be told but the gala doings of Mr Arabin's marriage, nothing
more to be described than the wedding dresses, no further dialogue
to be recorded than that which took place between the archdeacon
who married them, and Mr Arabin and Eleanor who were married. 'Wilt
thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?' and 'Wilt thou have this
man to thy wedded husband, to live together according to God's
ordinance?' Mr Arabin and Eleanor each answered, 'I will'. We have
no doubt that they will keep their promises; the more especially as
the Signora Neroni had left Barchester before the ceremony was
performed.
Mrs Bold had been somewhat more than two years a widow before she
was married to her second husband, and little Johnnie was then able
with due assistance to walk on his own legs into the drawing-room
to receive the salutations of the assembled guests. Mr Harding gave
away the bride, the archdeacon performed the service, and the two
Miss Grantlys, who were joined in their labours by other young
ladies of the neighbourhood, performed the duties of bridesmaids
with equal diligence and grace. Mrs Grantly superintended the
breakfast and bouquets and Mary Bold distributed the cards and
cake. The archdeacon's three sons had also come home for the
occasion. The eldest was great with learning, being regarded by all
who knew him as a certain future double first. The second, however,
bore the palm on this occasion, being resplendent in his new
uniform. The third was just entering the university, and was
probably the proudest of the three.
But the most remarkable feature in the whole occasion was the
excessive liberality of the archdeacon. He literally made presents
to everybody. As Mr Arabin had already moved out of the parsonage
of St Ewold's, that scheme of elongating the dining-room was of
course abandoned; but he would have refurnished the whole deanery
had he been allowed. He sent down a magnificent piano by Erard,
gave Mr Arabin a cob which any dean in the land might have been
proud to bestride, and made a special present to Eleanor of a new
pony chair that had gained a prize in the Exhibition. Nor did he
even stay his hand here; he bought a set of cameos for his wife,
and a sapphire bracelet for Miss Bold; showered pearls and
workboxes on is daughters, and to each of his sons he presented a
cheque for 20 pounds. On Mr Harding he bestowed a magnificent
violoncello with all the new-fashioned arrangements and expensive
additions, which, on account of these novelties, that gentleman
could never use with satisfaction to his audience or pleasure to
himself.
Those who knew the archdeacon well, perfectly understood the cause
of his extravagance. 'Twas thus that he sang his song of triumph
over Mr Slope. This was his paean, his hymn of thanksgiving, his
loud oration. He had girded himself with his sword, and gone forth
to the war; now he was returning from the field laden with the
spoils of the foe. The cob, the cameos, the violoncello and the
pianoforte, were all as it were trophies reft from the tent of his
now conquered enemy.
The Arabins after their marriage went abroad for a couple of
months, according the custom in such matters now duly established,
and then commenced their deanery life under good auspices. And
nothing can be more pleasant than the present arrangement of
ecclesiastical affairs in Barchester. The titular bishop never
interfered, and Mrs Proudie not often. Her sphere is more extended,
more noble, and more suited to her ambition than that of a
cathedral city. As long as she can do what she pleases with the
diocese, she is willing to leave the dean and chapter to
themselves. Mr Slope tried his hand at subverting the
old-established customs of the close, and from his failure she has
learnt experience. The burly chancellor and the meagre little
prebendary are not teased by any application respecting Sabbath-day
schools, the dean is left to his own dominions, and the intercourse
between Mrs Proudie and Mrs Arabin is confined to a yearly dinner
by each to the other. At these dinners Dr Grantly will not take a
part; but he never fails to ask for and receive a full account of
all that Mrs Proudie does or says.
His ecclesiastical authority has been greatly shorn since the palmy
days in which he reigned supreme as mayor of the palace to his
father, but nevertheless such authority as is now left to him he
can enjoy without interference. He can walk down High Street of
Barchester without feeling that those who see him are comparing his
claims with those of Mr Slope. The intercourse between Plumstead
and the deanery is of the most constant and familiar description.
Since Eleanor has been married to a clergyman, and especially to a
dignitary of the church, Mrs Grantly has found many more points of
sympathy with her sister; and on a coming occasion, which is much
looked forward to by all parties, she intends to spend a month or
two at the deanery. She never thought of spending a month in
Barchester when little Johnny Bold was born!
The two sisters do not quite agree on matters of church doctrine,
though their differences are of the most amicable description. Mr
Arabin's church is two degrees higher than that of Mrs Grantly.
This may seem strange to those who will remember that Eleanor was
once accused of partiality to Mr Slope; but it is no less the fact.
She likes her husband's silken vest, she likes his adherence to the
rubric, she specially likes the eloquent philosophy of his sermons,
and she likes the red letters in her own prayer-book. It must not
be presumed that she has a taste for candles, or that she is at all
astray about the real presence; but she has an inkling that way.
She sent a handsome subscription towards certain very heavy legal
expenses which have lately been incurred in Bath, her name of
course not appearing; she assumes a smile of gentle ridicule when
the Archbishop of Canterbury is named, and she has put up a
memorial window in the cathedral.
Mrs Grantly, who belongs to the high and dry church, the high
church as it was some fifty years since, before tracts were written
and young clergymen took upon themselves the highly meritorious
duty of cleaning churches, rather laughs at her sister. She shrugs
her shoulders, and tells Miss Thorne that she supposes Eleanor will
have an oratory in the deanery before she has done. But she is not
on that account a whit displeased. A few high church vagaries do
not, she thinks, sit amiss on the shoulders of a young dean's wife.
It shows at any rate that her heart is in the subject; and it shows
moreover that she is removed, wide as the poles asunder, from the
cesspool of abomination in which it was once suspected that she
would wallow and grovel. Anathema maranatha! Let anything be held
as blessed, so that that be well cursed. Welcome kneelings and
bowings, welcome matins and complines, welcome bell, book, and
candle, so that Mr Slope's dirty surplices and ceremonial Sabbaths
be held in due execration!
If it be essentially and absolutely necessary to choose between the
two, we are inclined to agree with Mrs Grantly that the bell, book,
and candle are the lesser evil of the two. Let it however be
understood that no such necessity is admitted in these pages.
Dr Arabin (we suppose he must have become a doctor when he became a
dean) is more moderate and less outspoken on doctrinal points than
his wife, as indeed in his station it behoves him to be. He is a
studious, thoughtful, hard-working man. He lives constantly at the
deanery and preaches nearly every Sunday. His time is spent in
sifting and editing old ecclesiastical literature and in producing
the same articles new. At Oxford he is generally regarded as the
most promising clerical ornament of the age. He and his wife live
together in perfect mutual confidence. There is but one secret in
her bosom which he has not shared. He has never yet learned how Mr
Slope had his ears boxed.
The Stanhopes soon found that Mr Slope's power need no longer
operate to keep them from the delight of their Italian villa.
Before Eleanor's marriage they had all migrated back to the shores
of Como. They had not been resettled long before the signora
received from Mrs Arabin a very pretty though very short epistle,
in which she was informed of the fate of the writer. This letter
was answered by another, bright, charming, and witty, as the
signora's always were; and so ended the friendship between Eleanor
and the Stanhopes.
One word of Mr Harding, and we have done.
He is still Precentor of Barchester, and still pastor of the little
church of St Cuthbert's. In spite of what he has so often said
himself, he is not even yet an old man. He does such duties as fall
to his lot well and conscientiously, and is thankful that he has
never been tempted to assume others for which he might be less
fitted.
The Author now leaves him in the hands of his readers; not as a
hero, not as a man to be admired and talked of, not as a man who
should be toasted at public dinners and spoken of with conventional
absurdity as a perfect divine, but as a good man without guile,
believing humbly in the religion which he strives to teach, and
guided by the precepts which he has striven to learn
THE END