Chapter VII
How a Hen Takes to Stratagem
The days passed, and Mr. Tulliver showed, at least to the eyes of themedical man, stronger and stronger symptoms of a gradual return to hisnormal condition the paralytic obstruction was, little by little,losing its tenacity, and the mind was rising from under it with fitfulstruggles, like a living creature making its way from under a greatsnowdrift, that slides and slides again, and shuts up the newly madeopening.
Time would have seemed to creep to the watchers by the bed, if it hadonly been measured by the doubtful, distant hope which kept count ofthe moments within the chamber; but it was measured for them by afast-approaching dread which made the nights come too quickly. WhileMr. Tulliver was slowly becoming himself again, his lot was hasteningtoward its moment of most palpable change. The taxing-masters had donetheir work like any respectable gunsmith conscientiously preparing themusket, that, duly pointed by a brave arm, will spoil a life or two.Allocaturs, filing of bills in Chancery, decrees of sale, are legalchain-shot or bomb-shells that can never hit a solitary mark, but mustfall with widespread shattering. So deeply inherent is it in this lifeof ours that men have to suffer for each other's sins, so inevitablydiffusive is human suffering, that even justice makes its victims, andwe can conceive no retribution that does not spread beyond its mark inpulsations of unmerited pain.
By the beginning of the second week in January, the bills were outadvertising the sale, under a decree of Chancery, of Mr. Tulliver'sfarming and other stock, to be followed by a sale of the mill andland, held in the proper after-dinner hour at the Golden Lion. Themiller himself, unaware of the lapse of time, fancied himself still inthat first stage of his misfortunes when expedients might be thoughtof; and often in his conscious hours talked in a feeble, disjointedmanner of plans he would carry out when he ”got well.” The wife andchildren were not without hope of an issue that would at least saveMr. Tulliver from leaving the old spot, and seeking an entirelystrange life. For uncle Deane had been induced to interest himself inthis stage of the business. It would not, he acknowledged, be a badspeculation for Guest & Co. to buy Dorlcote Mill, and carry on thebusiness, which was a good one, and might be increased by the additionof steam power; in which case Tulliver might be retained as manager.Still, Mr. Deane would say nothing decided about the matter; the factthat Wakem held the mortgage on the land might put it into his head tobid for the whole estate, and further, to outbid the cautious firm ofGuest &Co., who did not carry on business on sentimental grounds. Mr.Deane was obliged to tell Mrs. Tulliver something to that effect, whenhe rode over to the mill to inspect the books in company with Mrs.Glegg; for she had observed that ”if Guest &Co. would only think aboutit, Mr. Tulliver's father and grandfather had been carrying onDorlcote Mill long before the oil-mill of that firm had been so muchas thought of.”
Mr. Deane, in reply, doubted whether that was precisely the relationbetween the two mills which would determine their value asinvestments. As for uncle Glegg, the thing lay quite beyond hisimagination the good-natured man felt sincere pity for the Tulliverfamily, but his money was all locked up in excellent mortgages, and hecould run no risk; that would be unfair to his own relatives; but hehad made up his mind that Tulliver should have some new flannelwaistcoats which he had himself renounced in favor of a more elasticcommodity, and that he would buy Mrs. Tulliver a pound of tea now andthen; it would be a journey which his benevolence delighted inbeforehand, to carry the tea and see her pleasure on being assured itwas the best black.
Still, it was clear that Mr. Deane was kindly disposed toward theTullivers. One day he had brought Lucy, who was come home for theChristmas holidays, and the little blond angel-head had pressed itselfagainst Maggie's darker cheek with many kisses and some tears. Thesefair slim daughters keep up a tender spot in the heart of many arespectable partner in a respectable firm, and perhaps Lucy's anxious,pitying questions about her poor cousins helped to make uncle Deanemore prompt in finding Tom a temporary place in the warehouse, and inputting him in the way of getting evening lessons in book-keeping andcalculation.
That might have cheered the lad and fed his hopes a little, if therehad not come at the same time the much-dreaded blow of finding thathis father must be a bankrupt, after all; at least, the creditors mustbe asked to take less than their due, which to Tom's untechnical mindwas the same thing as bankruptcy. His father must not only be said tohave ”lost his property,” but to have ”failed,”--the word that carriedthe worst obloquy to Tom's mind. For when the defendant's claim forcosts had been satisfied, there would remain the friendly bill of Mr.Gore, and the deficiency at the bank, as well as the other debts whichwould make the assets shrink into unequivocal disproportion ”not morethan ten or twelve shillings in the pound,” predicted Mr. Deane, in adecided tone, tightening his lips; and the words fell on Tom like ascalding liquied, leaving a continual smart.
He was sadly in want of something to keep up his spirits a little inthe unpleasant newness of his position,--suddenly transported from theeasy carpeted _ennui_ of study-hours at Mr. Stelling's, and the busyidleness of castle-building in a ”last half” at school, to thecompanionship of sacks and hides, and bawling men thundering downheavy weights at his elbow. The first step toward getting on in theworld was a chill, dusty, noisy affair, and implied going withoutone's tea in order to stay in St. Ogg's and have an evening lessonfrom a one-armed elderly clerk, in a room smelling strongly of badtobacco. Tom's young pink-and-white face had its colors very muchdeadened by the time he took off his hat at home, and sat down withkeen hunger to his supper. No wonder he was a little cross if hismother or Maggie spoke to him.
But all this while Mrs. Tulliver was brooding over a scheme by whichshe, and no one else, would avert the result most to be dreaded, andprevent Wakem from entertaining the purpose of bidding for the mill.Imagine a truly respectable and amiable hen, by some portentousanomaly, taking to reflection and inventing combinations by which shemight prevail on Hodge not to wring her neck, or send her and herchicks to market; the result could hardly be other than much cacklingand fluttering. Mrs. Tulliver, seeing that everything had gone wrong,had begun to think she had been too passive in life; and that, if shehad applied her mind to business, and taken a strong resolution nowand then, it would have been all the better for her and her family.Nobody, it appeared, had thought of going to speak to Wakem on thisbusiness of the mill; and yet, Mrs. Tulliver reflected, it would havebeen quite the shortest method of securing the right end. It wouldhave been of no use, to be sure, for Mr. Tulliver to go,--even if hehad been able and willing,--for he had been ”going to law againstWakem” and abusing him for the last ten years; Wakem was always likelyto have a spite against him. And now that Mrs. Tulliver had come tothe conclusion that her husband was very much in the wrong to bringher into this trouble, she was inclined to think that his opinion ofWakem was wrong too. To be sure, Wakem had ”put the bailies in thehouse, and sold them up”; but she supposed he did that to please theman that lent Mr. Tulliver the money, for a lawyer had more folks toplease than one, and he wasn't likely to put Mr. Tulliver, who hadgone to law with him, above everybody else in the world. The attorneymight be a very reasonable man; why not? He had married a Miss Clint,and at the time Mrs. Tulliver had heard of that marriage, the summerwhen she wore her blue satin spencer, and had not yet any thoughts ofMr. Tulliver, she knew no harm of Wakem. And certainly toward herself,whom he knew to have been a Miss Dodson, it was out of all possibilitythat he could entertain anything but good-will, when it was oncebrought home to his observation that she, for her part, had neverwanted to go to law, and indeed was at present disposed to take Mr.Wakem's view of all subjects rather than her husband's. In fact, ifthat attorney saw a respectable matron like herself disposed ”to givehim good words,” why shouldn't he listen to her representations? Forshe would put the matter clearly before him, which had never been doneyet. And he would never go and bid for the mill on purpose to spiteher, an innocent woman, who thought it likely enough that she haddanced with him in their youth at Squire Darleigh's, for at those bigdances she had often and often danced with young men whose names shehad forgotten.
Mrs. Tulliver hid these reasonings in her own bosom; for when she hadthrown out a hint to Mr. Deane and Mr. Glegg that she wouldn't mindgoing to speak to Wakem herself, they had said, ”No, no, no,” and”Pooh, pooh,” and ”Let Wakem alone,” in the tone of men who were notlikely to give a candid attention to a more definite exposition of herproject; still less dared she mention the plan to Tom and Maggie, for”the children were always so against everything their mother said”;and Tom, she observed, was almost as much set against Wakem as hisfather was. But this unusual concentration of thought naturally gaveMrs. Tulliver an unusual power of device and determination: and a dayor two before the sale, to be held at the Golden Lion, when there wasno longer any time to be lost, she carried out her plan by astratagem. There were pickles in question, a large stock of picklesand ketchup which Mrs. Tulliver possessed, and which Mr. Hyndmarsh,the grocer, would certainly purchase if she could transact thebusiness in a personal interview, so she would walk with Tom to St.Ogg's that morning; and when Tom urged that she might let the picklesbe at present,--he didn't like her to go about just yet,--she appearedso hurt at this conduct in her son, contradicting her about pickleswhich she had made after the family receipts inherited from his owngrandmother, who had died when his mother was a little girl, that hegave way, and they walked together until she turned toward DanishStreet, where Mr. Hyndmarsh retailed his grocery, not far from theoffices of Mr. Wakem.
That gentleman was not yet come to his office; would Mrs. Tulliver sitdown by the fire in his private room and wait for him? She had notlong to wait before the punctual attorney entered, knitting his browwith an examining glance at the stout blond woman who rose, curtsyingdeferentially,--a tallish man, with an aquiline nose and abundantiron-gray hair. You have never seen Mr. Wakem before, and are possiblywondering whether he was really as eminent a rascal, and as crafty,bitter an enemy of honest humanity in general, and of Mr. Tulliver inparticular, as he is represented to be in that eidolon or portrait ofhim which we have seen to exist in the miller's mind.
It is clear that the irascible miller was a man to interpret anychance-shot that grazed him as an attempt on his own life, and wasliable to entanglements in this puzzling world, which, dueconsideration had to his own infallibility, required the hypothesis ofa very active diabolical agency to explain them. It is still possibleto believe that the attorney was not more guilty toward him than aningenious machine, which performs its work with much regularity, isguilty toward the rash man who, venturing too near it, is caught up bysome fly-wheel or other, and suddenly converted into unexpectedmince-meat.
But it is really impossible to decide this question by a glance at hisperson the lines and lights of the human countenance are like othersymbols,--not always easy to read without a key. On an _a priori_ viewof Wakem's aquiline nose, which offended Mr. Tulliver, there was notmore rascality than in the shape of his stiff shirt-collar, thoughthis too along with his nose, might have become fraught with damnatorymeaning when once the rascality was ascertained.
”Mrs. Tulliver, I think?” said Mr. Wakem.
”Yes, sir; Miss Elizabeth Dodson as was.”
”Pray be seated. You have some business with me?”
”Well, sir, yes,” said Mrs. Tulliver, beginning to feel alarmed at herown courage, now she was really in presence of the formidable man, andreflecting that she had not settled with herself how she should begin.Mr. Wakem felt in his waistcoat pockets, and looked at her in silence.
”I hope, sir,” she began at last,--”I hope, sir, you're not a-thinkingas _I_ bear you any ill-will because o' my husband's losing hislawsuit, and the bailies being put in, and the linen being sold,--ohdear!--for I wasn't brought up in that way. I'm sure you remember myfather, sir, for he was close friends with Squire Darleigh, and weallays went to the dances there, the Miss Dodsons,--nobody could bemore looked on,--and justly, for there was four of us, and you'requite aware as Mrs. Glegg and Mrs. Deane are my sisters. And as forgoing to law and losing money, and having sales before you're dead, Inever saw anything o' that before I was married, nor for a long whileafter. And I'm not to be answerable for my bad luck i' marrying out o'my own family into one where the goings-on was different. And as forbeing drawn in t' abuse you as other folks abuse you, sir, _that_ Iniver was, and nobody can say it of me.”
Mrs. Tulliver shook her head a little, and looked at the hem of herpocket-handkerchief.
”I've no doubt of what you say, Mrs. Tulliver,” said Mr. Wakem, withcold politeness. ”But you have some question to ask me?”
”Well, sir, yes. But that's what I've said to myself,--I've said you'dhad some nat'ral feeling; and as for my husband, as hasn't beenhimself for this two months, I'm not a-defending him, in no way, forbeing so hot about th' erigation,--not but what there's worse men, forhe never wronged nobody of a shilling nor a penny, not willingly; andas for his fieriness and lawing, what could I do? And him struck as ifit was with death when he got the letter as said you'd the hold upo'the land. But I can't believe but what you'll behave as a gentleman.”
”What does all this mean, Mrs. Tulliver?” said Mr. Wakem rathersharply. ”What do you want to ask me?”
”Why, sir, if you'll be so good,” said Mrs. Tulliver, starting alittle, and speaking more hurriedly,--”if you'll be so good not to buythe mill an' the land,--the land wouldn't so much matter, only myhusband ull' be like mad at your having it.”
Something like a new thought flashed across Mr. Wakem's face as hesaid, ”Who told you I meant to buy it?”
”Why, sir, it's none o' my inventing, and I should never ha' thoughtof it; for my husband, as ought to know about the law, he allays usedto say as lawyers had never no call to buy anything,--either lands orhouses,--for they allays got 'em into their hands other ways. An' Ishould think that 'ud be the way with you, sir; and I niver said asyou'd be the man to do contrairy to that.”
”Ah, well, who was it that _did_ say so?” said Wakem, opening hisdesk, and moving things about, with the accompaniment of an almostinaudible whistle.
”Why, sir, it was Mr. Glegg and Mr. Deane, as have all the management;and Mr. Deane thinks as Guest &Co. 'ud buy the mill and let Mr.Tulliver work it for 'em, if you didn't bid for it and raise theprice. And it 'ud be such a thing for my husband to stay where he is,if he could get his living: for it was his father's before him, themill was, and his grandfather built it, though I wasn't fond o' thenoise of it, when first I was married, for there was no mills in ourfamily,--not the Dodson's,--and if I'd known as the mills had so muchto do with the law, it wouldn't have been me as 'ud have been thefirst Dodson to marry one; but I went into it blindfold, that I did,erigation and everything.”
”What! Guest &Co. would keep the mill in their own hands, I suppose,and pay your husband wages?”
”Oh dear, sir, it's hard to think of,” said poor Mrs. Tulliver, alittle tear making its way, ”as my husband should take wage. But it'ud look more like what used to be, to stay at the mill than to goanywhere else; and if you'll only think--if you was to bid for themill and buy it, my husband might be struck worse than he was before,and niver get better again as he's getting now.”
”Well, but if I bought the mill, and allowed your husband to act as mymanager in the same way, how then?” said Mr. Wakem.
”Oh, sir, I doubt he could niver be got to do it, not if the very millstood still to beg and pray of him. For your name's like poison tohim, it's so as never was; and he looks upon it as you've been theruin of him all along, ever since you set the law on him about theroad through the meadow,--that's eight year ago, and he's been goingon ever since--as I've allays told him he was wrong----”
”He's a pig-headed, foul-mouthed fool!” burst out Mr. Wakem,forgetting himself.
”Oh dear, sir!” said Mrs. Tulliver, frightened at a result sodifferent from the one she had fixed her mind on ”I wouldn't wish tocontradict you, but it's like enough he's changed his mind with thisillness,--he's forgot a many things he used to talk about. And youwouldn't like to have a corpse on your mind, if he was to die; andthey _do_ say as it's allays unlucky when Dorlcote Mill changes hands,and the water might all run away, and _then_--not as I'm wishing youany ill-luck, sir, for I forgot to tell you as I remember your weddingas if it was yesterday; Mrs. Wakem was a Miss Clint, I know _that;_and my boy, as there isn't a nicer, handsomer, straighter boy nowhere,went to school with your son----”
Mr. Wakem rose, opened the door, and called to one of his clerks.
”You must excuse me for interrupting you, Mrs. Tulliver; I havebusiness that must be attended to; and I think there is nothing morenecessary to be said.”
”But if you _would_ bear it in mind, sir,” said Mrs. Tulliver, rising,”and not run against me and my children; and I'm not denying Mr.Tulliver's been in the wrong, but he's been punished enough, andthere's worse men, for it's been giving to other folks has been hisfault. He's done nobody any harm but himself and his family,--themore's the pity,--and I go and look at the bare shelves every day, andthink where all my things used to stand.”
”Yes, yes, I'll bear it in mind,” said Mr. Wakem, hastily, lookingtoward the open door.
”And if you'd please not to say as I've been to speak to you, for myson 'ud be very angry with me for demeaning myself, I know he would,and I've trouble enough without being scolded by my children.”
Poor Mrs. Tulliver's voice trembled a little, and she could make noanswer to the attorney's ”good morning,” but curtsied and walked outin silence.
”Which day is it that Dorlcote Mill is to be sold? Where's the bill?”said Mr. Wakem to his clerk when they were alone.
”Next Friday is the day,--Friday at six o'clock.”
”Oh, just run to Winship's the auctioneer, and see if he's at home. Ihave some business for him; ask him to come up.”
Although, when Mr. Wakem entered his office that morning, he had hadno intention of purchasing Dorlcote Mill, his mind was already madeup. Mrs. Tulliver had suggested to him several determining motives,and his mental glance was very rapid; he was one of those men who canbe prompt without being rash, because their motives run in fixedtracks, and they have no need to reconcile conflicting aims.
To suppose that Wakem had the same sort of inveterate hatred towardTulliver that Tulliver had toward him would be like supposing that apike and a roach can look at each other from a similar point of view.The roach necessarily abhors the mode in which the pike gets hisliving, and the pike is likely to think nothing further even of themost indignant roach than that he is excellent good eating; it couldonly be when the roach choked him that the pike could entertain astrong personal animosity. If Mr. Tulliver had ever seriously injuredor thwarted the attorney, Wakem would not have refused him thedistinction of being a special object of his vindictiveness. But whenMr. Tulliver called Wakem a rascal at the market dinner-table, theattorneys' clients were not a whit inclined to withdraw their businessfrom him; and if, when Wakem himself happened to be present, somejocose cattle-feeder, stimulated by opportunity and brandy, made athrust at him by alluding to old ladies' wills, he maintained perfect_sang froid_, and knew quite well that the majority of substantial menthen present were perfectly contented with the fact that ”Wakem wasWakem”; that is to say, a man who always knew the stepping-stones thatwould carry him through very muddy bits of practice. A man who hadmade a large fortune, had a handsome house among the trees at Tofton,and decidedly the finest stock of port-wine in the neighborhood of St.Ogg's, was likely to feel himself on a level with public opinion. AndI am not sure that even honest Mr. Tulliver himself, with his generalview of law as a cockpit, might not, under opposite circumstances,have seen a fine appropriateness in the truth that ”Wakem was Wakem”;since I have understood from persons versed in history, that mankindis not disposed to look narrowly into the conduct of great victorswhen their victory is on the right side. Tulliver, then, could be noobstruction to Wakem; on the contrary, he was a poor devil whom thelawyer had defeated several times; a hot-tempered fellow, who wouldalways give you a handle against him. Wakem's conscience was notuneasy because he had used a few tricks against the miller; why shouldhe hate that unsuccessful plaintiff, that pitiable, furious bullentangled in the meshes of a net?
Still, among the various excesses to which human nature is subject,moralists have never numbered that of being too fond of the people whoopenly revile us. The successful Yellow candidate for the borough ofOld Topping, perhaps, feels no pursuant meditative hatred toward theBlue editor who consoles his subscribers with vituperative rhetoricagainst Yellow men who sell their country, and are the demons ofprivate life; but he might not be sorry, if law and opportunityfavored, to kick that Blue editor to a deeper shade of his favoritecolor. Prosperous men take a little vengeance now and then, as theytake a diversion, when it comes easily in their way, and is nohindrance to business; and such small unimpassioned revenges have anenormous effect in life, running through all degrees of pleasantinfliction, blocking the fit men out of places, and blackeningcharacters in unpremeditated talk. Still more, to see people who havebeen only insignificantly offensive to us reduced in life andhumiliated, without any special effort of ours, is apt to have asoothing, flattering influence. Providence or some other prince ofthis world, it appears, has undertaken the task of retribution for us;and really, by an agreeable constitution of things, our enemiessomehow _don't_ prosper.
Wakem was not without this parenthetic vindictiveness toward theuncomplimentary miller; and now Mrs. Tulliver had put the notion intohis head, it presented itself to him as a pleasure to do the verything that would cause Mr. Tulliver the most deadly mortification,--and a pleasure of a complex kind, not made up of crude malice, butmingling with it the relish of self-approbation. To see an enemyhumiliated gives a certain contentment, but this is jejune comparedwith the highly blent satisfaction of seeing him humiliated by yourbenevolent action or concession on his behalf. That is a sort ofrevenge which falls into the scale of virtue, and Wakem was not withoutan intention of keeping that scale respectably filled. He had oncehad the pleasure of putting an old enemy of his into one of the St.Ogg's alms-houses, to the rebuilding of which he had given a largesubscription and here was an opportunity of providing for another bymaking him his own servant. Such things give a completeness toprosperity, and contribute elements of agreeable consciousness thatare not dreamed of by that short-sighted, overheated vindictivenesswhich goes out its way to wreak itself in direct injury. And Tulliver,with his rough tongue filed by a sense of obligation, would make abetter servant than any chance-fellow who was cap-in-hand for asituation. Tulliver was known to be a man of proud honesty, and Wakemwas too acute not to believe in the existence of honesty. He was giventoo observing individuals, not to judging of them according to maxims,and no one knew better than he that all men were not like himself.Besides, he intended to overlook the whole business of land and millpretty closely; he was fond of these practical rural matters. Butthere were good reasons for purchasing Dorlcote Mill, quite apart fromany benevolent vengeance on the miller. It was really a capitalinvestment; besides, Guest &Co. were going to bid for it. Mr. Guestand Mr. Wakem were on friendly dining terms, and the attorney liked topredominate over a ship-owner and mill-owner who was a little too loudin the town affairs as well as in his table-talk. For Wakem was not amere man of business; he was considered a pleasant fellow in the uppercircles of St. Ogg's--chatted amusingly over his port-wine, did alittle amateur farming, and had certainly been an excellent husbandand father; at church, when he went there, he sat under the handsomestof mural monuments erected to the memory of his wife. Most men wouldhave married again under his circumstances, but he was said to be moretender to his deformed son than most men were to their best-shapenoffspring. Not that Mr. Wakem had not other sons beside Philip; buttoward them he held only a chiaroscuro parentage, and provided forthem in a grade of life duly beneath his own. In this fact, indeed,there lay the clenching motive to the purchase of Dorlcote Mill. WhileMrs. Tulliver was talking, it had occurred to the rapid-minded lawyer,among all the other circumstances of the case, that this purchasewould, in a few years to come, furnish a highly suitable position fora certain favorite lad whom he meant to bring on in the world.
These were the mental conditions on which Mrs. Tulliver had undertakento act persuasively, and had failed; a fact which may receive someillustration from the remark of a great philosopher, that fly-fishersfail in preparing their bait so as to make it alluring in the rightquarter, for want of a due acquaintance with the subjectivity offishes.