by George Eliot
CHAPTER XV.
And doubt shall be as lead upon the feet Of thy most anxious will.
Mr. Lyon was careful to look in at Felix as soon as possible afterChristian's departure, to tell him that his trust was discharged. Duringthe rest of the day he was somewhat relieved from agitating reflectionsby the necessity of attending to his ministerial duties, the rebuke ofrebellious singers being one of them; and on his return from the Mondayevening prayer-meeting he was so overcome with weariness that he went tobed without taking note of any objects in his study. But when he rosethe next morning, his mind, once more eagerly active, was arrested byPhilip Debarry's letter, which still lay open on his desk, and wasarrested by precisely that portion which had been unheeded the daybefore:--"_I shall consider myself doubly fortunate if at any time youcan point out to me some method by which I may procure you as lively asatisfaction as I am now feeling, in that full and speedy relief fromanxiety which I owe to your considerate conduct_."
To understand how these words could carry the suggestion they actuallyhad for the minister in a crisis of peculiar personal anxiety andstruggle, we must bear in mind that for many years he had walked throughlife with the sense of having for a space been unfaithful to what heesteemed the highest trust ever committed to man--the ministerialvocation. In a mind of any nobleness, a lapse into transgression againstan object still regarded as supreme, issues in a new and purerdevotedness, chastised by humility and watched over by a passionateregret. So it was with that ardent spirit which animated the little bodyof Rufus Lyon. Once in his life he had been blinded, defeated, hurriedalong by rebellious impulse; he had gone astray after his own desires,and had let the fire die out on the altar; and as the true penitent,hating his self-besotted error, asks from all coming life duty insteadof joy, and service instead of ease, so Rufus was perpetually on thewatch lest he should ever again postpone to some private affection agreat public opportunity which to him was equivalent to a command.
Now here was an opportunity brought by a combination of that unexpectedincalculable kind which might be regarded as the Divine emphasisinvoking especial attention to trivial events--an opportunity ofsecuring what Rufus Lyon had often wished for as a means of honoringtruth, and exhibiting error in the character of a stammering, halting,short-breathed usurper of office and dignity. What was more exasperatingto a zealous preacher, with whom copious speech was not a difficulty buta relief--who never lacked argument, but only combatants andlisteners--than to reflect that there were thousands on thousands ofpulpits in this kingdom, supplied with handsome sounding-boards, andoccupying an advantageous position in buildings far larger than thechapel in Malthouse Yard--buildings sure to be places of resort, even asthe markets were, if only from habit and interest; and that thesepulpits were filled, or rather made vacuous, by men whose privilegededucation in the ancient centres of instruction issued in twentyminutes' formal reading of tepid exhortation or probably infirmdeductions from premises based on rotten scaffolding? And it is in thenature of exasperation gradually to concentrate itself. The sincereantipathy of a dog toward cats in general, necessarily takes the form ofindignant barking at the neighbor's black cat which makes dailytrespass; the bark at imagined cats, though a frequent exercise of thecanine mind, is yet comparatively feeble. Mr. Lyon's sarcasm was notwithout an edge when he dilated in general on an elaborate education forteachers which issued in the minimum of teaching, but it found awhetstone in the particular example of that bad system known as therector of Treby Magna. There was nothing positive to be said against theRev. Augustus Debarry; his life could not be pronounced blameworthyexcept for its negatives. And the good Rufus was too pure-minded not tobe glad of that. He had no delight in vice as discrediting wickedopponents; he shrank from dwelling on the images of cruelty orgrossness, and his indignation was habitually inspired only by thosemoral and intellectual mistakes which darken the soul but do not injureor degrade the temple of the body. If the rector had been a lessrespectable man, Rufus would have more reluctantly made him an objectof antagonism; but as an incarnation of soul-destroying error,dissociated from those baser sins which have no good repute even withthe worldly, it would be an argumentative luxury to get into closequarters with him, and fight with a dialectic short-sword in the eyes ofthe Treby world (sending also a written account thereof to the chieforgans of Dissenting opinion). Vice was essentially stupid--a deaf andeyeless monster, insusceptible to demonstration: the Spirit might workon it by unseen ways, and the unstudied sallies of sermons were often asthe arrows which pierced and awakened the brutified conscience; butilluminated thought, finely divided speech, were the choicer weapons ofthe Divine armory, which whoso could wield must be careful not to leaveidle.
Here, then, was the longed-for opportunity. Here was an engagement--anexpression of a strong wish--on the part of Philip Debarry, if it werein his power, to procure a satisfaction to Rufus Lyon. How had that manof God and exemplary Independent minister, Mr. Ainsworth, of persecutedsanctity, conducted himself when a similar occasion had befallen him atAmsterdam? He had thought of nothing but the glory of the highest cause,and had converted the offer of recompense into a public debate with aJew on the chief mysteries of the faith. Here was a model: the case wasnothing short of a heavenly indication, and he, Rufus Lyon, would seizethe occasion to demand a public debate with the rector on theconstitution of the true Church.
What if he were inwardly torn by doubt and anxiety concerning his ownprivate relations and the facts of his past life? That danger ofabsorption within the narrow bounds of self only urged him the moretoward action which had a wider bearing, and might tell on the welfareof England at large. It was decided. Before the minister went down tobreakfast that morning he had written the following letter to Mr. PhilipDebarry:--
SIR,--Referring to your letter of yesterday, I find the following words: "I shall consider myself doubly fortunate if at any time you can point out to me some method by which I may procure you as lively a satisfaction as I am now feeling, in that full and speedy relief from anxiety which I owe to your considerate conduct."
I am not unaware, sir, that, in the usage of the world, there are words of courtesy (so called) which are understood, by those amongst whom they are current, to have no precise meaning, and to constitute no bond of obligation. I will not now insist that this is an abuse of language, wherein our fallible nature requires the strictest safeguards against laxity and misapplication, for I do not apprehend that in writing the words I have above quoted, you were open to the reproach of using phrases which, while seeming to carry a specific meaning, were really no more than what is called a polite form. I believe, sir, that you used these words advisedly, sincerely, and with an honorable intention of acting on them as a pledge, should such action be demanded. No other supposition on my part would correspond to the character you bear as a young man who aspires (albeit mistakenly) to engraft the finest fruits of public virtue on a creed and institutions, whereof the sap is composed rather of human self-seeking than of everlasting truth.
Wherefore I act on this my belief in the integrity of your written word; I beg you to procure for me (as it is doubtless in your power) that I may be allowed a public discussion with your near relative, the rector of this parish, the Reverend Augustus Debarry, to be held in the large room of the Free School, or in the Assembly Room of the Marquis of Granby, these being the largest covered spaces at our command. For I presume he would neither allow me to speak within his church, nor would consent himself to speak within my chapel; and the probable inclemency of the approaching season forbids an assured expectation that we could discourse in the open air. The subjects I desire to discuss are--first, the Constitution of the true Church; and secondly, the bearing thereupon of the English Reformation. Confidently expecting that you will comply with this request, which is the sequence of your expressed desire, I remain, sir, yours, with the respect offered to a sincere wit
hstander, RUFUS LYON, Malthouse Yard.
After writing this letter, the good Rufus felt that serenity andelevation of mind which is infallibly brought by a preoccupation withthe wider relations of things. Already he was beginning to sketch thecourse his argument might most judiciously take in the coming debate;his thoughts were running into sentences, and marking off carefulexceptions in parentheses; and he had come down and seated himself atthe breakfast-table quite automatically, without expectation of toast orcoffee, when Esther's voice and touch recalled to him an inward debateof another kind, in which he felt himself much weaker. Again there arosebefore him the image of that cool, hard-eyed, worldly man, who might bethis dear child's father, and one against whose rights he had himselfgrievously offended. Always as the image recurred to him Mr. Lyon'sheart sent forth a prayer for guidance, but no definite guidance had yetmade itself visible for him. It could not be guidance--it was atemptation--that said, "Let the matter rest: seek to know no more; knowonly what is thrust upon you." The remembrance that in his time ofwandering he had wilfully remained in ignorance of facts which he mighthave enquired after, deepened the impression that it was now animperative duty to seek the fullest attainable knowledge. And theenquiry might possibly issue in a blessed repose, by putting a negativeon all his suspicions. But the more vividly all the circumstances becamepresent to him, the more unfit he felt himself to set about anyinvestigation concerning this man who called himself Maurice Christian.He could seek no confidant or helper among "the brethren"; he wasobliged to admit to himself that the members of his church, with whom hehoped to go to heaven, were not easy to converse with on earth touchingthe deeper secrets of his experience, and were still less able to advisehim as to the wisest procedure in a case of high delicacy, with aworldling who had a carefully-trimmed whisker and a fashionable costume.For the first time in his life it occurred to the minister that heshould be glad of an adviser who had more worldly than spiritualexperience, and that it might not be inconsistent with his principles toseek some light from one who had studied human law. But it was a thoughtto be paused upon, and not followed out rashly; some other guidancemight intervene.
Esther noticed that her father was in a fit of abstraction, that heseemed to swallow his coffee and toast quite unconsciously, and that hevented from time to time a low guttural interjection, which was habitualwith him when he was absorbed by an inward discussion. She did notdisturb him by remarks, and only wondered whether anything unusual hadoccurred on Sunday evening. But at last she thought it needful to say,"You recollect what I told you yesterday, father?"
"Nay, child; what?" said Mr. Lyon, rousing himself.
"That Mr. Jermyn asked me if you would probably be at home this morningbefore one o'clock."
Esther was surprised to see her father start and change color as if hehad been shaken by some sudden collision before he answered--
"Assuredly; I do not intend to move from my study after I have once beenout to hand this letter to Zachary."
"Shall I tell Lyddy to take him up at once to your study if he comes? Ifnot, I shall have to stay in my own room, because I shall be at home allthis morning, and it is rather cold now to sit without a fire."
"Yes, my dear, let him come up to me; unless, indeed, he should bring asecond person, which might happen, seeing that in all likelihood he iscoming, as hitherto, on electioneering business. And I could not wellaccommodate two visitors up-stairs."
When Mr. Lyon went out to Zachary, the pew-opener, to give him a secondtime the commission of carrying a letter to Treby Manor, Esther gave herinjunction to Lyddy that if one gentleman came he was to be shownup-stairs--if two, they were to be shown into the parlor. But she had toresolve several questions before Lyddy clearly saw what was beforeher--as that, "if it was the gentleman as came on Thursday in thepepper-and-salt coat, was he to be shown up-stairs? And the gentlemanfrom the Manor yesterday as went out whistling--had Miss Esther heardabout him? There seemed no end of these great folks coming to MalthouseYard since there was talk of the election but they might be poor lostcreatures the most of 'em." Whereupon Lyddy shook her head and groaned,under an edifying despair as to the future lot of gentlemen callers.
Esther always avoided asking questions of Lyddy, who found an answer asshe found a key, by pouring out a pocketful of miscellanies. But she hadremarked so many indications that something had happened to cause herfather unusual excitement and mental preoccupation, that she could nothelp connecting with them the fact of this visit from the Manor, whichhe had not mentioned to her.
She sat down in the dull parlor and took up her netting; for sinceSunday she had felt unable to read when she was alone, being obliged, inspite of herself, to think of Felix Holt--to imagine what he would likeher to be, and what sort of views he took of life so as to make it seemvaluable in the absence of all elegance, luxury, gayety, or romance. Hadhe yet reflected that he had behaved very rudely to her on Sunday?Perhaps not. Perhaps he had dismissed her from his mind with contempt.And at that thought Esther's eyes smarted unpleasantly. She was fond ofnetting, because it showed to advantage both her hand and her foot; andacross this image of Felix Holt's indifference and contempt there passedthe vaguer image of a possible somebody who would admire her hands andfeet, and delight in looking at their beauty, and long, yet not dare, tokiss them. Life would be much easier in the presence of such a love. Butit was precisely this longing after her own satisfaction that Felix hadreproached her with. Did he want her to be heroic? That seemedimpossible without some great occasion. Her life was a heap offragments, and so were her thoughts: some great energy was needed tobind them together. Esther was beginning to lose her complacency at herown wit and criticism; to lose the sense of superiority in an awakeningneed of reliance on one whose vision was wider, whose nature was purerand stronger than her own. But then, she said to herself, that "one"must be tender to her, not rude and predominating in his manners. A manwith any chivalry in him could never adopt a scolding tone toward awoman--that is, toward a charming woman. But Felix had no chivalry inhim. He loved lecturing and opinion too well ever to love any woman.
In this way Esther strove to see that Felix was thoroughly in thewrong--at least, if he did not come again expressly to show that he wassorry.