The Last Chronicle of Barset (107 page)

The bishop and his wife were at present alone in the palace. Their married daughter and her husband had left them, and their unmarried daughter was also away. How far the bishop's mood may have produced this solitude in the vast house I will not say. Probably Mrs Proudie's state of mind may have prevented her from having other guests in the place of those who were gone. She felt herself to be almost disgraced in the eyes of all those around her by her husband's long absence from the common rooms of the house and by his dogged silence at meals. It was better, she thought, that they two should be alone in the palace.

Her own efforts to bring him back to something like life, to some activity of mind if not of body, were made constantly; and when she
failed, as she did fail day after day, she would go slowly to her own room, and lock her door, and look back in her solitude at all the days of her life. She had agonies in these minutes of which no one near her knew anything. She would seize with her arm the part of the bed near which she would stand, and hold by it, grasping it, as though she were afraid to fall; and then, when it was at the worst with her, she would go to her closet – a closet that no eyes ever saw unlocked but her own – and fill for herself and swallow some draught; and then she would sit down with the Bible before her, and read it sedulously. She spent hours every day with her Bible before her, repeating to herself whole chapters, which she knew almost by heart.

It cannot be said that she was a bad woman, though she had in her time done an indescribable amount of evil. She had endeavoured to do good, failing partly by ignorance and partly from the effects of an unbridled, ambitious temper. And now, even amidst her keenest sufferings, her ambition was by no means dead. She still longed to rule the diocese by means of her husband – but was made to pause and hesitate by the unwonted mood that had fallen upon him. Before this, on more than one occasion, and on one very memorable occasion,
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he had endeavoured to combat her. He had fought with her, striving to put her down. He had failed, and given up the hope of any escape for himself in that direction. On those occasions her courage had never quailed for a moment. While he openly struggled to be master, she could openly struggle to be mistress – and could enjoy the struggle. But nothing like this moodiness had ever come upon him before.

She had yielded to it for many days, striving to coax him by little softnesses of which she herself had been ashamed as she practised them. They had served her nothing, and at last she determined that something else must be done. If only for his sake, to keep some life in him, something must be done. Were he to continue as he was now, he must give up his diocese, or, at any rate, declare himself too ill to keep the working of it in his own hands. How she hated Mr Crawley for all the sorrow that he had brought upon her and her house!

And it was still the affair of Mr Crawley which urged her on to further action. When the bishop received Mr Crawley's letter he said
nothing of it to her; but he handed it over to his chaplain. The chaplain, fearing to act upon it himself, handed it to Mr Thumble, whom he knew to be one of the bishop's commission, and Mr Thumble, equally fearing responsibility in the present state of affairs at the palace, found himself obliged to consult Mrs Proudie. Mrs Proudie had no doubt as to what should be done. The man had abdicated his living, and of course some provision must be made for the services. She would again make an attempt upon her husband, and therefore she went into his room holding Mr Crawley's letter in her hand.

‘My dear,' she said, ‘here is Mr Crawley's letter. I suppose you have read it?'

‘Yes,' said the bishop; ‘I have read it.'

‘And what will you do about it? Something must be done.'

‘I don't know,' said he. He did not even look at her as he spoke. He had not turned his eyes upon her since she had entered the room.

‘But, bishop, it is a letter that requires to be acted upon at once. We cannot doubt that the man is doing right at last. He is submitting himself where his submission is due; but his submission will be of no avail unless you take some action upon his letter. Do you not think that Mr Thumble had better go over?'

‘No, I don't. I think Mr Thumble had better stay where he is,' said the irritated bishop.

‘What, then, would you wish to have done?'

‘Never mind,' said he.

‘But bishop, that is nonsense,' said Mrs Proudie, adding something of severity to the tone of her voice.

‘No, it isn't nonsense,' said he. Still he did not look at her, nor had he done so for a moment since she had entered the room. Mrs Proudie could not bear this, and as her anger became strong within her breast, she told herself that she would be wrong to bear it. She had tried what gentleness would do, and she had failed. It was now imperatively necessary that she should resort to sterner measures. She must make him understand that he must give her authority to send Mr Thumble to Hogglestock.

‘Why do you not turn round and speak to me properly?' she said.

‘I do not want to speak to you at all,' the bishop answered.

This was very bad – almost anything would be better than this. He was sitting now over the fire, with his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. She had gone round the room so as to face him, and was now standing almost over him, but still she could not see his countenance. ‘This will not do at all,' she said. ‘My dear, do you know that you are forgetting yourself altogether?'

‘I wish I could forget myself.'

‘That might be all very well if you were in a position in which you owed no service to anyone; or, rather, it would not be well then, but the evil would not be so manifest. You cannot do your duty in the diocese if you continue to sit there doing nothing, with your head upon your hands. Why do you not rally, and get to your work like a man?'

‘I wish you would go away and leave me,' he said.

‘No, bishop, I will not go away and leave you. You have brought yourself to such a condition that it is my duty as your wife to stay by you; and if you neglect your duty, I will not neglect mine.'

‘It was you that brought me to it.'

‘No, sir, that is not true. I did not bring you to it.'

‘It is the truth.' And now he got up and looked at her. For a moment he stood upon his legs, and then again sat down with his face turned towards her. ‘It is the truth. You have brought on me such disgrace that I cannot hold up my head. You have ruined me. I wish I were dead; and it is all through you that I am driven to wish it.'

Of all that she had suffered in her life this was the worst. She clasped both her hands to her side as she listened to him, and for a minute or two she made no reply. When he ceased from speaking he again put his elbows on his knees and again buried his face in his hands. What had she better do, or how was it expedient that she should treat him? At this crisis the whole thing was so important to her that she would have postponed her own ambition and would have curbed her temper had she thought that by doing so she might in any degree have benefited him. But it seemed to her that she could not rouse him by conciliation. Neither could she leave him as he was.
Something must be done. ‘Bishop,' she said, ‘the words that you speak are very sinful, very sinful.'

‘You have made them sinful,' he replied.

‘I will not hear that from you. I will not indeed. I have endeavoured to do my duty by you, and I do not deserve it. I am endeavouring to do my duty now, and you must know that it would ill become me to remain quiescent while you are in such a state. The world around you is observing you, and knows that you are not doing your work. All I want of you is that you should arouse yourself, and go to your work.'

‘I could do my work very well,' he said, ‘if you were not here.'

‘I suppose, then, you wish that I were dead?' said Mrs Proudie. To this he made no reply, nor did he stir himself. How could flesh and blood bear this – female flesh and blood – Mrs Proudie's flesh and blood? Now, at last, her temper once more got the better of her judgment, probably much to her immediate satisfaction, and she spoke out. ‘I'll tell you what it is, my lord; if you are imbecile, I must be active. It is very sad that I should have to assume your authority –'

‘I will not allow you to assume my authority.'

‘I must do so, or else must obtain a medical certificate as to your incapacity, and beg that some neighbouring bishop may administer the diocese. Things shall not go on as they are now. I, at any rate, will do my duty. I shall tell Mr Thumble that he must go over to Hogglestock, and arrange for the duties of the parish.'

‘I desire that you will do no such thing,' said the bishop, now again looking up at her.

‘You may be sure that I shall,' said Mrs Proudie, and then she left the room.

He did not even yet suppose that she would go about this work at once. The condition of his mind was in truth bad, and was becoming worse, probably, from day to day; but still he did make his calculations about things, and now reflected that it would be sufficient if he spoke to his chaplain tomorrow about Mr Crawley's letter. Since the terrible scene that Dr Tempest had witnessed, he had never been able to make up his mind as to what great step he would take, but he had made up his mind that some great step was necessary. There were
moments in which he thought that he would resign his bishopric. For such resignation, without acknowledged incompetence on the score of infirmity, the precedents were very few; but even if there were no precedents, it would be better to do that than to remain where he was. Of course there would be disgrace. But then it would be disgrace from which he could hide himself. Now there was equal disgrace; and he could not hide himself. And then such a measure as that would bring punishment where punishment was due. It would bring his wife to the ground – her who had brought him to the ground. The suffering should not be all his own. When she found that her income, and her palace, and her position were all gone, then perhaps she might repent the evil that she had done him. Now, when he was left alone, his mind went back to this, and he did not think of taking immediate measures – measures on that very day – to prevent the action of Mr Thumble.

But Mrs Proudie did take immediate steps. Mr Thumble was at this moment in the palace waiting for instructions. It was he who had brought Mr Crawley's letter to Mrs Proudie, and she now returned to him with that letter in her hand. The reader will know what was the result. Mr Thumble was sent off to Hogglestock at once on the bishop's old cob, and – as will be remembered, fell into trouble on the road. Late in the afternoon he entered the palace yard having led the cob by the bridle the whole way home from Hogglestock.

Some hour or two before Mr Thumble's return Mrs Proudie returned to her husband, thinking it better to let him know what she had done. She resolved to be very firm with him, but at the same time she determined not to use harsh language if it could be avoided. ‘My dear,' she said, ‘I have arranged with Mr Thumble.' She found him on this occasion sitting at his desk with papers before him, with a pen in his hand; and she could see at a glance that nothing had been written on the paper. What would she have thought had she known that when he placed the sheet before him he was proposing to consult the archbishop as to the propriety of his resignation! He had not, however, progressed so far as to write even the date of his letter.

‘You have done what?' said he, throwing down the pen.

‘I have arranged with Mr Thumble as to going out to Hogglestock,' she said firmly. ‘Indeed he has gone already.' Then the bishop jumped up from his seat, and rang the bell with violence. ‘What are you going to do?' said Mrs Proudie.

‘I am going to depart from here,' said he. ‘I will not stay here to be the mark of scorn for all men's fingers. I will resign the diocese.'

‘You cannot do that,' said his wife.

‘I can try, at any rate,' said he. Then the servant entered. ‘John,' said he, addressing the man, ‘let Mr Thumble know the moment he returns to the palace that I wish to see him here. Perhaps he may not come to the palace. In that case let word be sent to his house.'

Mrs Proudie allowed the man to go before she addressed her husband again. ‘What do you mean to say to Mr Thumble when you see him?'

‘That is nothing to you.'

She came up to him and put her hand upon his shoulder, and spoke to him very gently. ‘Tom,' she said, ‘is that the way in which you speak to your wife?'

‘Yes, it is. You have driven me to it. Why have you taken upon yourself to send that man to Hogglestock?'

‘Because it was right to do so. I came to you for instructions, and you would give none.'

‘I should have given what instructions I pleased in proper time. Thumble shall not go to Hogglestock next Sunday.'

‘Who shall go, then?'

‘Never mind. Nobody. It does not matter to you. If you will leave me now I shall be obliged to you. There will be an end of all this very soon – very soon.'

Mrs Proudie after this stood for a while thinking what she would say; but she left the room without uttering another word. As she looked at him a hundred different thoughts came into her mind. She had loved him dearly, and she loved him still; but she knew now – at this moment felt absolutely sure – that by him she was hated! In spite of all her roughness and temper, Mrs Proudie was in this like other women – that she would fain have been loved had it been possible. She had always meant to serve him. She was conscious of that;
conscious also in a way that, although she had been industrious, although she had been faithful, although she was clever, yet she had failed. At the bottom of her heart she knew that she had been a bad wife. And yet she had meant to be a pattern wife! She had meant to be a good Christian; but she had so exercised her Christianity that not a soul in the world loved her, or would endure her presence if it could be avoided! She had sufficient insight to the minds and feelings of those around her to be aware of this. And now her husband had told her that her tyranny to him was so overbearing that he must throw up his great position, and retire to an obscurity that would be exceptionally disgraceful to them both, because he could no longer endure the public disgrace which her conduct brought upon him in his high place before the world! Her heart was too full for speech; and she left him, very quietly closing the door behind her.