Chapter: These little things are great to little man.--GOLDSMITH.


"Have you seen much of your scientific phoenix, Lydgate, lately?" said
Mr. Toller at one of his Christmas dinner-parties, speaking to Mr.
Farebrother on his right hand.

"Not much, I am sorry to say," answered the Vicar, accustomed to parry
Mr. Toller's banter about his belief in the new medical light.  "I am
out of the way and he is too busy."

"Is he?  I am glad to hear it," said Dr. Minchin, with mingled suavity
and surprise.

"He gives a great deal of time to the New Hospital," said Mr.
Farebrother, who had his reasons for continuing the subject: "I hear of
that from my neighbor, Mrs. Casaubon, who goes there often.  She says
Lydgate is indefatigable, and is making a fine thing of Bulstrode's
institution.  He is preparing a new ward in case of the cholera coming
to us."

"And preparing theories of treatment to try on the patients, I
suppose," said Mr. Toller.

"Come, Toller, be candid," said Mr. Farebrother.  "You are too clever
not to see the good of a bold fresh mind in medicine, as well as in
everything else; and as to cholera, I fancy, none of you are very sure
what you ought to do.  If a man goes a little too far along a new road,
it is usually himself that he harms more than any one else."

"I am sure you and Wrench ought to be obliged to him," said Dr.
Minchin, looking towards Toller, "for he has sent you the cream of
Peacock's patients."

"Lydgate has been living at a great rate for a young beginner," said
Mr. Harry Toller, the brewer.  "I suppose his relations in the North
back him up."

"I hope so," said Mr. Chichely, "else he ought not to have married that
nice girl we were all so fond of.  Hang it, one has a grudge against a
man who carries off the prettiest girl in the town."

"Ay, by God! and the best too," said Mr. Standish.

"My friend Vincy didn't half like the marriage, I know that," said Mr.
Chichely.  "_He_ wouldn't do much.  How the relations on the other side
may have come down I can't say."  There was an emphatic kind of
reticence in Mr. Chichely's manner of speaking.

"Oh, I shouldn't think Lydgate ever looked to practice for a living,"
said Mr. Toller, with a slight touch of sarcasm, and there the subject
was dropped.

This was not the first time that Mr. Farebrother had heard hints of
Lydgate's expenses being obviously too great to be met by his practice,
but he thought it not unlikely that there were resources or
expectations which excused the large outlay at the time of Lydgate's
marriage, and which might hinder any bad consequences from the
disappointment in his practice.  One evening, when he took the pains to
go to Middlemarch on purpose to have a chat with Lydgate as of old, he
noticed in him an air of excited effort quite unlike his usual easy way
of keeping silence or breaking it with abrupt energy whenever he had
anything to say.  Lydgate talked persistently when they were in his
work-room, putting arguments for and against the probability of certain
biological views; but he had none of those definite things to say or to
show which give the waymarks of a patient uninterrupted pursuit, such
as he used himself to insist on, saying that "there must be a systole
and diastole in all inquiry," and that "a man's mind must be
continually expanding and shrinking between the whole human horizon and
the horizon of an object-glass." That evening he seemed to be talking
widely for the sake of resisting any personal bearing; and before long
they went into the drawing room, where Lydgate, having asked Rosamond
to give them music, sank back in his chair in silence, but with a
strange light in his eyes.  "He may have been taking an opiate," was a
thought that crossed Mr. Farebrother's mind--"tic-douloureux
perhaps--or medical worries."

It did not occur to him that Lydgate's marriage was not delightful: he
believed, as the rest did, that Rosamond was an amiable, docile
creature, though he had always thought her rather uninteresting--a
little too much the pattern-card of the finishing-school; and his
mother could not forgive Rosamond because she never seemed to see that
Henrietta Noble was in the room.  "However, Lydgate fell in love with
her," said the Vicar to himself, "and she must be to his taste."

Mr. Farebrother was aware that Lydgate was a proud man, but having very
little corresponding fibre in himself, and perhaps too little care
about personal dignity, except the dignity of not being mean or
foolish, he could hardly allow enough for the way in which Lydgate
shrank, as from a burn, from the utterance of any word about his
private affairs.  And soon after that conversation at Mr. Toller's, the
Vicar learned something which made him watch the more eagerly for an
opportunity of indirectly letting Lydgate know that if he wanted to
open himself about any difficulty there was a friendly ear ready.

The opportunity came at Mr. Vincy's, where, on New Year's Day, there
was a party, to which Mr. Farebrother was irresistibly invited, on the
plea that he must not forsake his old friends on the first new year of
his being a greater man, and Rector as well as Vicar.  And this party
was thoroughly friendly: all the ladies of the Farebrother family were
present; the Vincy children all dined at the table, and Fred had
persuaded his mother that if she did not invite Mary Garth, the
Farebrothers would regard it as a slight to themselves, Mary being
their particular friend.  Mary came, and Fred was in high spirits,
though his enjoyment was of a checkered kind--triumph that his mother
should see Mary's importance with the chief personages in the party
being much streaked with jealousy when Mr. Farebrother sat down by her.
Fred used to be much more easy about his own accomplishments in the
days when he had not begun to dread being "bowled out by Farebrother,"
and this terror was still before him.  Mrs. Vincy, in her fullest
matronly bloom, looked at Mary's little figure, rough wavy hair, and
visage quite without lilies and roses, and wondered; trying
unsuccessfully to fancy herself caring about Mary's appearance in
wedding clothes, or feeling complacency in grandchildren who would
"feature" the Garths.  However, the party was a merry one, and Mary was
particularly bright; being glad, for Fred's sake, that his friends were
getting kinder to her, and being also quite willing that they should
see how much she was valued by others whom they must admit to be judges.

Mr. Farebrother noticed that Lydgate seemed bored, and that Mr. Vincy
spoke as little as possible to his son-in-law. Rosamond was perfectly
graceful and calm, and only a subtle observation such as the Vicar had
not been roused to bestow on her would have perceived the total absence
of that interest in her husband's presence which a loving wife is sure
to betray, even if etiquette keeps her aloof from him.  When Lydgate
was taking part in the conversation, she never looked towards him any
more than if she had been a sculptured Psyche modelled to look another
way: and when, after being called out for an hour or two, he re-entered
the room, she seemed unconscious of the fact, which eighteen months
before would have had the effect of a numeral before ciphers.  In
reality, however, she was intensely aware of Lydgate's voice and
movements; and her pretty good-tempered air of unconsciousness was a
studied negation by which she satisfied her inward opposition to him
without compromise of propriety.  When the ladies were in the
drawing-room after Lydgate had been called away from the dessert, Mrs.
Farebrother, when Rosamond happened to be near her, said--"You have to
give up a great deal of your husband's society, Mrs. Lydgate."

"Yes, the life of a medical man is very arduous: especially when he is
so devoted to his profession as Mr. Lydgate is," said Rosamond, who was
standing, and moved easily away at the end of this correct little
speech.

"It is dreadfully dull for her when there is no company," said Mrs.
Vincy, who was seated at the old lady's side.  "I am sure I thought so
when Rosamond was ill, and I was staying with her.  You know, Mrs.
Farebrother, ours is a cheerful house.  I am of a cheerful disposition
myself, and Mr. Vincy always likes something to be going on.  That is
what Rosamond has been used to.  Very different from a husband out at
odd hours, and never knowing when he will come home, and of a close,
proud disposition, _I_ think"--indiscreet Mrs. Vincy did lower her tone
slightly with this parenthesis.  "But Rosamond always had an angel of a
temper; her brothers used very often not to please her, but she was
never the girl to show temper; from a baby she was always as good as
good, and with a complexion beyond anything.  But my children are all
good-tempered, thank God."

This was easily credible to any one looking at Mrs. Vincy as she threw
back her broad cap-strings, and smiled towards her three little girls,
aged from seven to eleven.  But in that smiling glance she was obliged
to include Mary Garth, whom the three girls had got into a corner to
make her tell them stories.  Mary was just finishing the delicious tale
of Rumpelstiltskin, which she had well by heart, because Letty was
never tired of communicating it to her ignorant elders from a favorite
red volume.  Louisa, Mrs. Vincy's darling, now ran to her with
wide-eyed serious excitement, crying, "Oh mamma, mamma, the little man
stamped so hard on the floor he couldn't get his leg out again!"

"Bless you, my cherub!" said mamma; "you shall tell me all about it
to-morrow. Go and listen!" and then, as her eyes followed Louisa back
towards the attractive corner, she thought that if Fred wished her to
invite Mary again she would make no objection, the children being so
pleased with her.

But presently the corner became still more animated, for Mr.
Farebrother came in, and seating himself behind Louisa, took her on his
lap; whereupon the girls all insisted that he must hear
Rumpelstiltskin, and Mary must tell it over again.  He insisted too,
and Mary, without fuss, began again in her neat fashion, with precisely
the same words as before.  Fred, who had also seated himself near,
would have felt unmixed triumph in Mary's effectiveness if Mr.
Farebrother had not been looking at her with evident admiration, while
he dramatized an intense interest in the tale to please the children.

"You will never care any more about my one-eyed giant, Loo," said Fred
at the end.

"Yes, I shall.  Tell about him now," said Louisa.

"Oh, I dare say; I am quite cut out.  Ask Mr. Farebrother."

"Yes," added Mary; "ask Mr. Farebrother to tell you about the ants
whose beautiful house was knocked down by a giant named Tom, and he
thought they didn't mind because he couldn't hear them cry, or see them
use their pocket-handkerchiefs."

"Please," said Louisa, looking up at the Vicar.

"No, no, I am a grave old parson.  If I try to draw a story out of my
bag a sermon comes instead.  Shall I preach you a sermon?" said he,
putting on his short-sighted glasses, and pursing up his lips.

"Yes," said Louisa, falteringly.

"Let me see, then.  Against cakes: how cakes are bad things, especially
if they are sweet and have plums in them."

Louisa took the affair rather seriously, and got down from the Vicar's
knee to go to Fred.

"Ah, I see it will not do to preach on New Year's Day," said Mr.
Farebrother, rising and walking away.  He had discovered of late that
Fred had become jealous of him, and also that he himself was not losing
his preference for Mary above all other women.

"A delightful young person is Miss Garth," said Mrs. Farebrother, who
had been watching her son's movements.

"Yes," said Mrs. Vincy, obliged to reply, as the old lady turned to her
expectantly.  "It is a pity she is not better-looking."

"I cannot say that," said Mrs. Farebrother, decisively.  "I like her
countenance.  We must not always ask for beauty, when a good God has
seen fit to make an excellent young woman without it.  I put good
manners first, and Miss Garth will know how to conduct herself in any
station."

The old lady was a little sharp in her tone, having a prospective
reference to Mary's becoming her daughter-in-law; for there was this
inconvenience in Mary's position with regard to Fred, that it was not
suitable to be made public, and hence the three ladies at Lowick
Parsonage were still hoping that Camden would choose Miss Garth.

New visitors entered, and the drawing-room was given up to music and
games, while whist-tables were prepared in the quiet room on the other
side of the hall.  Mr. Farebrother played a rubber to satisfy his
mother, who regarded her occasional whist as a protest against scandal
and novelty of opinion, in which light even a revoke had its dignity.
But at the end he got Mr. Chichely to take his place, and left the
room.  As he crossed the hall, Lydgate had just come in and was taking
off his great-coat.

"You are the man I was going to look for," said the Vicar; and instead
of entering the drawing-room, they walked along the hall and stood
against the fireplace, where the frosty air helped to make a glowing
bank.  "You see, I can leave the whist-table easily enough," he went
on, smiling at Lydgate, "now I don't play for money.  I owe that to
you, Mrs. Casaubon says."

"How?" said Lydgate, coldly.

"Ah, you didn't mean me to know it; I call that ungenerous reticence.
You should let a man have the pleasure of feeling that you have done
him a good turn.  I don't enter into some people's dislike of being
under an obligation: upon my word, I prefer being under an obligation
to everybody for behaving well to me."

"I can't tell what you mean," said Lydgate, "unless it is that I once
spoke of you to Mrs. Casaubon.  But I did not think that she would
break her promise not to mention that I had done so," said Lydgate,
leaning his back against the corner of the mantel-piece, and showing no
radiance in his face.

"It was Brooke who let it out, only the other day.  He paid me the
compliment of saying that he was very glad I had the living though you
had come across his tactics, and had praised me up as a lien and a
Tillotson, and that sort of thing, till Mrs. Casaubon would hear of no
one else."

"Oh, Brooke is such a leaky-minded fool," said Lydgate, contemptuously.

"Well, I was glad of the leakiness then.  I don't see why you shouldn't
like me to know that you wished to do me a service, my dear fellow.
And you certainly have done me one.  It's rather a strong check to
one's self-complacency to find how much of one's right doing depends on
not being in want of money.  A man will not be tempted to say the
Lord's Prayer backward to please the devil, if he doesn't want the
devil's services.  I have no need to hang on the smiles of chance now."

"I don't see that there's any money-getting without chance," said
Lydgate; "if a man gets it in a profession, it's pretty sure to come by
chance."

Mr. Farebrother thought he could account for this speech, in striking
contrast with Lydgate's former way of talking, as the perversity which
will often spring from the moodiness of a man ill at ease in his
affairs.  He answered in a tone of good-humored admission--

"Ah, there's enormous patience wanted with the way of the world.  But
it is the easier for a man to wait patiently when he has friends who
love him, and ask for nothing better than to help him through, so far
as it lies in their power."

"Oh yes," said Lydgate, in a careless tone, changing his attitude and
looking at his watch.  "People make much more of their difficulties
than they need to do."

He knew as distinctly as possible that this was an offer of help to
himself from Mr. Farebrother, and he could not bear it.  So strangely
determined are we mortals, that, after having been long gratified with
the sense that he had privately done the Vicar a service, the
suggestion that the Vicar discerned his need of a service in return
made him shrink into unconquerable reticence.  Besides, behind all
making of such offers what else must come?--that he should "mention his
case," imply that he wanted specific things.  At that moment, suicide
seemed easier.

Mr. Farebrother was too keen a man not to know the meaning of that
reply, and there was a certain massiveness in Lydgate's manner and
tone, corresponding with his physique, which if he repelled your
advances in the first instance seemed to put persuasive devices out of
question.

"What time are you?" said the Vicar, devouring his wounded feeling.

"After eleven," said Lydgate.  And they went into the drawing-room.

 Mr. Farebrother meets the medical men at various Christmas parties. He hears a lot of talk about Lydgates dwindling patients and increasing debts. As a good friend, the vicar wants to help. The chance comes at a New Year party at the Vincys. All the Vincy children, the Farebrothers family, and even Mary Garth were present at Freds persuasion. Fred is jealous of the vicar whenever he is near Mary. Mrs. Vincy begins to look more benignly on Mary because her younger children are fond of the girl. She discusses Marys looks rather slightingly with Mrs. Farebrother, who is indignant. Both ladies look on Mary as a potential daughter-in-law! Lydgate is in and out, due to his patients. Once, Farebrother gets hold of him and thanks him for his recommendation to Dorothea. Lydgate is embarrassed, and Farebrother delicately hints that he too could be a good friend in need. Lydgate understands his offer, but is too proud to take it up, and ignores it. Farebrother is hurt and goes out, Rosamond appears indifferent to her husbands movements and mood.

