Barchester Towers

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The next session came, and, contrary to custom, the bill came also.
Men's minds were then intent on other things. The first
threatenings of a huge war hung heavily over the nation, and the
question as to Hiram's heirs did not appear to interest very many
people either in or out of the House. The bill, however, was read
and reread, and in some undistinguished manner passed through its
eleven stages without appeal or dissent. What would John Hiram have
said in the matter, could he have predicted that some forty-five
gentlemen would take on themselves to make a law altering the whole
purport of the will, without in the least knowing at the moment of
their making it, what it was that they were doing? It is however to
be hoped that the under secretary for the Home Office knew, for to
him had the matter been confided.

The bill, however, did pass, and at the time at which this history
is supposed to commence, it had been ordained that there should be,
as heretofore, twelve old men in Barchester Hospital, each with
1s 4d a day; that there should also be twelve old women, each with
1s 2d a day; that there should be a matron with a house and L 70 a
year; a steward with L 150 a year, who should have the spiritual
guidance of that appertaining to the male sex. The bishop, dean,
and warden, were, as formerly, to appoint in turn the recipients of
the charity, and the bishop was to appoint the officers. There was
nothing said as to the wardenship being held by the precentor of
the cathedral, nor a word as to Mr Harding's right to the
situation.

It was not, however, till some months after the death of the old
bishop, and almost immediately consequent on the installation of
his successor, that notice was given that the reform was about to
be carried out. The new law and the new bishop were among the
earliest works of a new ministry, or rather of a ministry who,
having for a while given place to their opponents, had then
returned to power; and the death of Dr Grantly occurred, as we
have seen, exactly at the period of change.

Poor Eleanor Bold! How well does that widow's cap become her, and
the solemn gravity with which she devotes to her new duties. Poor
Eleanor!

Poor Eleanor! I cannot say that with me John Bold was ever a
favourite. I never thought him worthy of the wife he had won. But
in her estimation he was most worthy. Hers was one of those
feminine hearts which cling to a husband, not with idolatry, for
worship can admit of no defect in its idol, but with the perfect
tenacity of ivy. As the parasite plant will follow even the defects
of the trunk which it embraces, so did Eleanor cling to and love
the very faults of her husband.

She had once declared that whatever her father did should in her
eyes be right. She then transferred her allegiance, and became ever
ready to defend the worst failings of her lord and master.

And John Bold was a man to be loved by a woman; he was himself
affectionate, he was confiding and manly; and that arrogance of
thought, unsustained by first-rate abilities, that attempt at being
better than his neighbours which jarred so painfully on the
feelings of his acquaintances, did not injure him in the estimation
of his wife.

Could she even have admitted that he had a fault, his early death
would have blotted out the memory of it. She wept as for the loss
of the most perfect treasure with which mortal woman had ever been
endowed; for weeks after he was gone the idea of future happiness
in this world was hateful to her; consolation, as it is called, was
insupportable, and tears and sleep were her only relief.

But God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb. She knew that she had
within her the living source of other cares. She knew that there
was to be created for her another subject of weal or woe, of
unutterable joy or despairing sorrow, as God in his mercy might
vouchsafe to her. At first this did not augment her grief! To be
the mother of a poor infant, orphaned before it was born, brought
forth to the sorrows of an ever desolate hearth, nurtured amidst
tears and wailing, and then turned adrift into the world without
the aid of a father's care! There was at first no joy in this.

By degrees, however, her heart became anxious for another object,
and, before its birth, the stranger was expected with all the
eagerness of a longing mother. Just eight months after the father's
death a second John Bold was born, and if the worship of one
creature can be innocent in another, let us hope that the adoration
offered over the cradle of the fatherless infant may not be imputed
as sin.

It will not be worth our while to define the character of the
child, or to point out in how far the faults of the father were
redeemed within that little breast by the virtues of the mother.
The baby, as a baby, was all that was delightful, and I cannot
foresee that it will be necessary for us to inquire into the facts
of his after life. Our present business at Barchester will not
occupy us above a year or two at the furthest, and I will leave it
to some other pen to produce, if necessary, the biography of John
Bold the Younger.

But, as a baby, this baby was all that could be desired. This fact
no one attempted to deny. 'Is he not delightful?' she would say to
her father, looking into his face from her knees, he lustrous eyes
overflowing with soft tears, her young face encircled by her close
widow's cap and her hands on each side of the cradle in which her
treasure was sleeping. The grandfather would gladly admit that the
treasure was delightful, and the uncle archdeacon himself would
agree, and Mrs Grantly, Eleanor's sister, would re-echo the word
with true sisterly energy; and Mary Bold--but Mary Bold was a
second worshipper at the same shrine.

The baby was really delightful; he took his food with a will,
struck out his toes merrily whenever his legs were uncovered, and
did not have fits. These are supposed to be the strongest points of
baby perfection, and in all these our baby excelled.

And in this the widow's deep grief was softened, and a sweet balm
was poured into the wound which she had thought nothing but death
could heal. How much kinder is God to us than we are willing to be
to ourselves! At the loss of every dear face, at the last going of
every well beloved one, we all doom ourselves to an eternity of
sorrow, and look to waste ourselves away in an ever-running
fountain of tears. How seldom does such grief endure! How blessed
is the goodness which forbids it to do so! 'Let me ever remember my
living friends, but forget them as soon as they are dead,' was the
prayer of a wise man who understood the mercy of God. Few perhaps
would have the courage to express such a wish, and yet to do so
would only be to ask for that release from sorrow, which a kind
Creator almost always extends to us.

I would not, however, have it imagined that Mrs Bold forgot her
husband. She really thought of him with all conjugal love, and
enshrined his memory in the innermost centre of her heart. But yet
she was happy in her baby. It was so sweet to press the living toy
to her breast, and feel that a human being existed who did owe, and
was to owe everything to her; whose daily food was drawn from
herself; whose little wants could all be satisfied by her; whose
infant tongue would make his first effort in calling her by the
sweetest name a woman can hear. And so Eleanor's bosom became
tranquil, and she set about her new duties eagerly and gratefully.

As regards the concerns of the world, John Bold had left his widow
in prosperous circumstances. He had bequeathed to her all that he
possessed, and that comprised an income much exceeding what she or
her friends thought necessary for her. It amounted to nearly a
thousand a year; and when she reflected on its extent, her dearest
hope was to hand it over, not only unimpaired, but increased, to
her husband's son, to her own darling, to the little man who now
lay sleeping on her knee, happily ignorant of the cares which were
to be accumulated in his behalf.

When John Bold died, she earnestly implored her father to come and
live with her, but this Mr Harding declined, though for some weeks
he remained with her as a visitor. He could not be prevailed upon
to forego the possession of some small house of his own, and so
remained in the lodgings he had first selected over a chemist's
shop in the High Street at Barchester.

CHAPTER III

DR AND MRS PROUDIE

This narrative is supposed to commence immediately after the
installation of Dr Proudie. I will not describe the ceremony, as I
do not precisely understand its nature. I am ignorant whether a
bishop be chaired like a member of parliament, or carried in a gilt
coach like a lord mayor, or sworn in like a justice of the peace,
or introduced like a peer to the upper house, or led between two
brethren like a knight of the garter; but I do know that every
thing was properly done, and that nothing fit or becoming to a
young bishop was omitted on the occasion.

Dr Proudie was not the man to allow anything to be omitted that
might be becoming to his new dignity. He understood well the value
of forms, and knew that the due observations of rank could not be
maintained unless the exterior trappings belonging to it were held
in proper esteem. He was a man born to move in high circles; at
least so he thought himself and circumstances had certainly
sustained him in this view. He was the nephew of a Irish baron by
his mother's side, and his wife was the niece of a Scottish earl.
He had for years held some clerical office appertaining to courtly
matters, which had enabled him to live in London, and to entrust
his parish to his curate. He had been a preacher to the royal
beefeaters, curator of theological manuscripts in the
Ecclesiastical Courts, chaplain of the Queen's Yeomanry Guard, and
almoner to his Royal Highness the Prince of Rappe-Blankenburg.

His residence in the metropolis, rendered necessary by the duties
entrusted to him, his high connections, and the peculiar talents
and nature of the man, recommended him to persons in power; and Dr
Proudie became known as a useful and rising clergyman.

Some few years since, even within the memory of many who are not
yet willing to call themselves old, a liberal clergyman was a
person not frequently to be met. Sydney Smith was such, and was
looked on as a little better than an infidel; a few others also
might be named, but they were 'rarae aves', and were regarded with
doubt and distrust by their brethren. No man was so surely a tory
as a country rector--nowhere were the powers that be so cherished
as at Oxford.

When, however, Dr Whately was made an archbishop, and Dr Hampden
some years afterwards regius professor, many wise divines saw that
a change was taking place in men's minds, and that more liberal
ideas would henceforward be suitable to the priests as well as to
the laity. Clergymen began to be heard of who had ceased to
anathematise papists on the one hand, or vilify dissenters on the
other. It appeared clear that high church principles, as they are
called, were no longer to be the surest claims to promotion with at
any rate one section of statesmen, and Dr Proudie was one among
those who early in life adapted himself to the views held by the
whigs on most theological and religious subjects. He bore with the
idolatry of Rome, tolerated even the infidelity of Socinianism, and
was hand and glove with the Presbyterian Synods of Scotland and
Ulster.

Such a man at such a time was found to be useful, and Dr Proudie's
name began to appear in the newspapers. He was made one of a
commission who went over to Ireland to arrange matters preparative
to the working of the national board; he became honorary secretary
to another commission nominated to inquire into the revenues of
cathedral chapters; and had had something to do with both the
regium donum and the Maynooth Grant.

It must not be on this account be taken as proved that Dr Proudie
was a man of great mental powers, or even of much capacity for
business, for such qualities had not been required in him. In the
arrangement of those church reforms with which he was connected,
the ideas and original conception of the work to be done were
generally furnished by the liberal statesmen of the day, and the
labour of the details was borne by officials of a lower rank. It
was, however, thought expedient that the name of some clergyman
should appear in such matters, and as Dr Proudie had become known
as a tolerating divine, great use of this sort was made of his
name. If he did not do much active good, he never did any harm; he
was amenable to those who were really in authority, and at the
sittings of the various boards to which he belonged maintained a
kind of dignity which had its value.

He was certainly possessed of sufficient tact to answer the purpose
for which he was required without making himself troublesome; but
it must not therefore be surmised that he doubted his own power, or
failed to believe that he could himself take a high part in high
affairs when his own turn came. His was biding his time, and
patiently looking forward to the days when he himself would sit
authoritative at some board, and talk and direct, and rule the
roost, while lesser stars sat round and obeyed, as he had so well
accustomed himself to do.

His reward and his time had now come. He was selected for the
vacant bishopric, and on the next vacancy which might occur in any
diocese would take his place in the House of Lords, prepared to
give not a silent vote in all matters concerning the weal of the
church establishment. Toleration was to be the basis on which he
was to fight his battles, and in the honest courage of his heart he
thought no evil would come to him in encountering even such foes as
his brethren of Exeter and Oxford.

Dr Proudie was an ambitious man, and before he was well consecrated
Bishop of Barchester, he had begun to look up to archepiscopal
splendour, and the glories of Lambeth, or at any rate of
Bishopsthorpe. He was comparatively young, and had, as he fondly
flattered himself, been selected as possessing such gifts, natural
and acquired, as must be sure to recommend him to a yet higher
notice, now that a higher sphere was opened to him. Dr Proudie was,
therefore, quite prepared to take a conspicuous part in all
theological affairs appertaining to these realms; and having such
views, by no means intended to bury himself at Barchester as his
predecessor had done. No: London should still be his ground: a
comfortable mansion in a provincial city might be well enough for
the dead months of the year. Indeed Dr Proudie had always felt it
necessary to his position to retire from London when other great
and fashionable people did so; but London should still be his fixed
residence, and it was in London that he resolved to exercise that
hospitality so peculiarly recommended to all bishops by St Paul.
How otherwise could he keep himself before the world? How else give
the government, in matters theological, the full benefit of his
weight and talents?

This resolution was no doubt a salutary one as regarded the world
at large, but was not likely to make him popular either with the
clergy or the people of Barchester. Dr Grantly had always lived
there; and in truth it was hard for a bishop to be popular after Dr
Grantly. His income had averaged L 9000 a year; his successor was
to be rigidly limited to L 5000. He had but one child on whom to
spend his money; Dr Proudie had seven or eight. He had been a man
of few personal expenses, and they had been confined to the tastes
of a moderate gentleman; but Dr Proudie had to maintain a position
in fashionable society, and had that to do with comparatively small
means. Dr Grantly had certainly kept his carriages, as became a
bishop; but his carriage, horses, and coachmen, though they did
very well for Barchester, would have been almost ridiculous at
Westminster. Mrs Proudie determined that her husband's equipage
should not shame her, and things on which Mrs Proudie resolved,
were generally accomplished.

From all this it was likely to result that Dr Proudie would not
spend much money at Barchester; whereas his predecessor had dealt
with the tradesmen of the city in a manner very much to their
satisfaction. The Grantlys, father and son, had spent their money
like gentlemen; but it soon became whispered in Barchester that Dr
Proudie was not unacquainted with those prudent devices by which
the utmost show of wealth is produced from limited means.

In person Dr Proudie is a good-looking man; spruce and dapper, and
very tidy. He is somewhat below middle height, being about five
feet four; but he makes up for the inches which he wants by the
dignity with which he carries those which he has. It is no fault
of his own if he has not a commanding eye, for he studies hard to
assume it. His features are well formed, though perhaps the
sharpness of his nose may give to his face in the eyes of some
people an air of insignificance. If so, it is greatly redeemed by
his mouth and chin, of which he is justly proud.

Dr Proudie may well be said to have been a fortunate man, for he
was not born to wealth, and he is now bishop of Barchester; but
nevertheless he has his cares. He has a large family, of whom the
three eldest are daughters, now all grown up and fit for
fashionable life; and he has a wife. It is not my intention to
breathe a word against the character of Mrs Proudie, but still I
cannot think that with all her virtues she adds much to her
husband's happiness. The truth is that in matters domestic she
rules supreme over her titular lord, and rules with a rod of iron.
Nor is this all. Things domestic Dr Proudie might have abandoned to
her, if not voluntarily, yet willingly. But Mrs Proudie is not
satisfied with such home dominion, and stretches her power over all
his movements, and will not even abstain from things spiritual. In
fact, the bishop is henpecked.

The archdeacon's wife, in her happy home at Plumstead, knows how to
assume the full privileges of her rank, and express her own mind in
becoming tone and place. But Mrs Grantly's sway, if sway she has,
is easy and beneficent. She never shames her husband; before the
world she is a pattern of obedience; her voice is never loud, nor
her looks sharp: doubtless she values power, and has not
unsuccessfully striven to acquire it; but she knows what should be
the limits of woman's rule.

Not so Mrs Proudie. This lady is habitually authoritative to all,
but to her poor husband she is despotic. Successful as has been his
career in the eyes of the world, it would seem that in the eyes of
his wife he is never right. All hope of defending himself has long
passed from him; indeed he rarely even attempts self-justification;
and is aware that submission produces the nearest approach to peace
which his own house can ever attain.

Mrs Proudie has not been able to sit at the boards and committees
to which her husband has been called by the state; nor, as he often
reflects, can she make her voice heard in the House of Lords. It
may be that she will refuse to him permission to attend to this
branch of a bishop's duties; it may be that she will insist on his
close attendance to his own closet. He has never whispered a word
on the subject to living ears, but he has already made his fixed
resolve. Should such an attempt be made he will rebel. Dogs have
turned against their masters, and even Neapolitans against their
rulers, when oppression has been too severe. And Dr Proudie feels
within himself that if the cord be drawn too tight, he also can
muster courage and resist.

The state of vassalage in which our bishop had been kept by his
wife has not tended to exalt his character in the eyes of his
daughters, who assume in addressing their father too much of that
authority which is not properly belonging, at any rate, to them.
They are, on the whole, fine engaging young ladies. They are tall
and robust like their mother, whose high cheek bones, and--we may
say auburn hair, they all inherit. They think somewhat too much of
their grand uncles, who have not hitherto returned the compliment
by thinking much of them. But now that their father is a bishop, it
is probable that family ties will be drawn closer. Considering
their connection with the church, they entertain but few prejudices
against the pleasures of the world; and have certainly not
distressed their parents, as too many English girls have lately
done, by any enthusiastic wish to devote themselves to the
seclusion of a protestant nunnery. Dr Proudie's sons are still at
school.

One other marked peculiarity in the character of the bishop's wife
must be mentioned. Though not averse to the society and manners of
the world, she is in her own way a religious woman; and the form in
which this tendency shows itself in her is by a strict observance
of the Sabbatarian rule. Dissipation and low dresses during the
week are, under her control, atoned for by three services, an
evening sermon read by herself, and a perfect abstinence from any
cheering employment on Sunday. Unfortunately for those under her
roof to whom the dissipation and low dresses are not extended, her
servants namely and her husband, the compensating strictness of the
Sabbath includes all. Woe betide the recreant housemaid who is
found to have been listening to the honey of a sweetheart in the
Regent's Park, instead of the soul-stirring evening discourse of Mr
Slope. Not only is she sent adrift, but she is so sent with a
character which leaves her little hope of a decent place. Woe
betide the six-foot hero who escorts Mrs Proudie to her pew in red
plush breeches, if he slips away to the neighbouring beer-shop,
instead of falling into the back seat appropriated to his use. Mrs
Proudie has the eyes of Argus for such offenders. Occasional
drunkenness in the week may be overlooked, for six feet on low
wages are hardly to be procured if the morals are always kept at a
high pitch; but not even for the grandeur or economy will Mrs
Proudie forgive a desecration of the Sabbath.

In such matters, Mrs Proudie allows herself to be often guided by
that eloquent preacher, the Rev. Mr Slope, and as Dr Proudie is
guided by his wife, it necessarily follows that the eminent man we
have named has obtained a good deal of control over Dr Proudie in
matters concerning religion. Mr Slope's only preferment has
hitherto been that of reader and preacher in a London district
church; and on the consecration of his friend the new bishop, he
readily gave this up to undertake the onerous but congenial duties
of domestic chaplain to the bishop.

Mr Slope, however, on his first introduction must not be brought
before the public at the tail of a chapter.

CHAPTER IV

THE BISHOP'S CHAPLAIN

Of the Rev. Mr Slope's parentage I am not able to say much. I have
heard it asserted that he is lineally descended from that eminent
physician who assisted at the birth of Mr T. Shandy, and that in
early years he added an 'e' to his name, for the sake of euphony,
as other great men have done before him. If this be so, I presumed
he was christened Obadiah, for that is his name, in commemoration
of the conflict in which his ancestor so distinguished himself. All
my researches on the subject have, however, failed in enabling me
to fix the date on which the family changed its religion.

He had been a sizar at Cambridge, and had there conducted himself
at any rate successfully, for in due process of time he was an MA,
having university pupils under his care. From thence he was
transferred to London, and became preacher at a new district church
built on the confines of Baker Street. He was in this position when
congenial ideas on religious subjects recommended him to Mrs
Proudie, and the intercourse had become close and confidential.

Having been thus familiarly thrown among the Misses Proudie, it was
more than natural that some softer feeling than friendship should
be engendered. There have been some passages of love between him
and the eldest hope, Olivia; but they have hitherto resulted in no
favourable arrangement. In truth, Mr Slope, having made a
declaration of affection, afterwards withdrew it on finding that
the doctor had no immediate worldly funds with which to endow his
child; and it may easily be conceived that Miss Proudie, after such
an announcement on his part, was not readily disposed to receive
any further show of affection. On the appointment of Dr Proudie to
the bishopric of Barchester, Mr Slope's views were, in truth,
somewhat altered. Bishops, even though they be poor, can provide
for clerical children, and Mr Slope began to regret that he had not
been more disinterested. He no sooner heard the tidings of the
doctor's elevation, than he recommenced his siege, not violently,
indeed, but respectfully, and at a distance. Olivia Proudie,
however, was a girl of spirit: she had the blood of two peers in
her veins, and, better still, she had another lover on her books;
so Mr Slope sighed in vain; and the pair soon found it convenient
to establish a mutual bond of inveterate hatred.