Of Human Bondage (4 page)

  One day was very like another at the vicarage.

  Soon after breakfast Mary Ann brought in The Times.
Mr. Carey shared it with two neighbours. He had it from ten till
one, when the gardener took it over to Mr. Ellis at the Limes, with
whom it remained till seven; then it was taken to Miss Brooks at
the Manor House, who, since she got it late, had the advantage of
keeping it. In summer Mrs. Carey, when she was making jam, often
asked her for a copy to cover the pots with. When the Vicar settled
down to his paper his wife put on her bonnet and went out to do the
shopping. Philip accompanied her. Blackstable was a fishing
village. It consisted of a high street in which were the shops, the
bank, the doctor's house, and the houses of two or three coalship
owners; round the little harbor were shabby streets in which lived
fishermen and poor people; but since they went to chapel they were
of no account. When Mrs. Carey passed the dissenting ministers in
the street she stepped over to the other side to avoid meeting
them, but if there was not time for this fixed her eyes on the
pavement. It was a scandal to which the Vicar had never resigned
himself that there were three chapels in the High Street: he could
not help feeling that the law should have stepped in to prevent
their erection. Shopping in Blackstable was not a simple matter;
for dissent, helped by the fact that the parish church was two
miles from the town, was very common; and it was necessary to deal
only with churchgoers; Mrs. Carey knew perfectly that the vicarage
custom might make all the difference to a tradesman's faith. There
were two butchers who went to church, and they would not understand
that the Vicar could not deal with both of them at once; nor were
they satisfied with his simple plan of going for six months to one
and for six months to the other. The butcher who was not sending
meat to the vicarage constantly threatened not to come to church,
and the Vicar was sometimes obliged to make a threat: it was very
wrong of him not to come to church, but if he carried iniquity
further and actually went to chapel, then of course, excellent as
his meat was, Mr. Carey would be forced to leave him for ever. Mrs.
Carey often stopped at the bank to deliver a message to Josiah
Graves, the manager, who was choir-master, treasurer, and
churchwarden. He was a tall, thin man with a sallow face and a long
nose; his hair was very white, and to Philip he seemed extremely
old. He kept the parish accounts, arranged the treats for the choir
and the schools; though there was no organ in the parish church, it
was generally considered (in Blackstable) that the choir he led was
the best in Kent; and when there was any ceremony, such as a visit
from the Bishop for confirmation or from the Rural Dean to preach
at the Harvest Thanksgiving, he made the necessary preparations.
But he had no hesitation in doing all manner of things without more
than a perfunctory consultation with the Vicar, and the Vicar,
though always ready to be saved trouble, much resented the
churchwarden's managing ways. He really seemed to look upon himself
as the most important person in the parish. Mr. Carey constantly
told his wife that if Josiah Graves did not take care he would give
him a good rap over the knuckles one day; but Mrs. Carey advised
him to bear with Josiah Graves: he meant well, and it was not his
fault if he was not quite a gentleman. The Vicar, finding his
comfort in the practice of a Christian virtue, exercised
forbearance; but he revenged himself by calling the churchwarden
Bismarck behind his back.

  Once there had been a serious quarrel between the
pair, and Mrs. Carey still thought of that anxious time with
dismay. The Conservative candidate had announced his intention of
addressing a meeting at Blackstable; and Josiah Graves, having
arranged that it should take place in the Mission Hall, went to Mr.
Carey and told him that he hoped he would say a few words. It
appeared that the candidate had asked Josiah Graves to take the
chair. This was more than Mr. Carey could put up with. He had firm
views upon the respect which was due to the cloth, and it was
ridiculous for a churchwarden to take the chair at a meeting when
the Vicar was there. He reminded Josiah Graves that parson meant
person, that is, the vicar was the person of the parish. Josiah
Graves answered that he was the first to recognise the dignity of
the church, but this was a matter of politics, and in his turn he
reminded the Vicar that their Blessed Saviour had enjoined upon
them to render unto Caesar the things that were Caesar's. To this
Mr. Carey replied that the devil could quote scripture to his
purpose, himself had sole authority over the Mission Hall, and if
he were not asked to be chairman he would refuse the use of it for
a political meeting. Josiah Graves told Mr. Carey that he might do
as he chose, and for his part he thought the Wesleyan Chapel would
be an equally suitable place. Then Mr. Carey said that if Josiah
Graves set foot in what was little better than a heathen temple he
was not fit to be churchwarden in a Christian parish. Josiah Graves
thereupon resigned all his offices, and that very evening sent to
the church for his cassock and surplice. His sister, Miss Graves,
who kept house for him, gave up her secretaryship of the Maternity
Club, which provided the pregnant poor with flannel, baby linen,
coals, and five shillings. Mr. Carey said he was at last master in
his own house. But soon he found that he was obliged to see to all
sorts of things that he knew nothing about; and Josiah Graves,
after the first moment of irritation, discovered that he had lost
his chief interest in life. Mrs. Carey and Miss Graves were much
distressed by the quarrel; they met after a discreet exchange of
letters, and made up their minds to put the matter right: they
talked, one to her husband, the other to her brother, from morning
till night; and since they were persuading these gentlemen to do
what in their hearts they wanted, after three weeks of anxiety a
reconciliation was effected. It was to both their interests, but
they ascribed it to a common love for their Redeemer. The meeting
was held at the Mission Hall, and the doctor was asked to be
chairman. Mr. Carey and Josiah Graves both made speeches.

  When Mrs. Carey had finished her business with the
banker, she generally went upstairs to have a little chat with his
sister; and while the ladies talked of parish matters, the curate
or the new bonnet of Mrs. Wilson – Mr. Wilson was the richest man
in Blackstable, he was thought to have at least five hundred a
year, and he had married his cook – Philip sat demurely in the
stiff parlour, used only to receive visitors, and busied himself
with the restless movements of goldfish in a bowl. The windows were
never opened except to air the room for a few minutes in the
morning, and it had a stuffy smell which seemed to Philip to have a
mysterious connection with banking.

  Then Mrs. Carey remembered that she had to go to the
grocer, and they continued their way. When the shopping was done
they often went down a side street of little houses, mostly of
wood, in which fishermen dwelt (and here and there a fisherman sat
on his doorstep mending his nets, and nets hung to dry upon the
doors), till they came to a small beach, shut in on each side by
warehouses, but with a view of the sea. Mrs. Carey stood for a few
minutes and looked at it, it was turbid and yellow,
[and who
knows what thoughts passed through her mind?]
while Philip
searched for flat stones to play ducks and drakes. Then they walked
slowly back. They looked into the post office to get the right
time, nodded to Mrs. Wigram the doctor's wife, who sat at her
window sewing, and so got home.

  Dinner was at one o'clock; and on Monday, Tuesday,
and Wednesday it consisted of beef, roast, hashed, and minced, and
on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday of mutton. On Sunday they ate one
of their own chickens. In the afternoon Philip did his lessons, He
was taught Latin and mathematics by his uncle who knew neither, and
French and the piano by his aunt. Of French she was ignorant, but
she knew the piano well enough to accompany the old-fashioned songs
she had sung for thirty years. Uncle William used to tell Philip
that when he was a curate his wife had known twelve songs by heart,
which she could sing at a moment's notice whenever she was asked.
She often sang still when there was a tea-party at the vicarage.
There were few people whom the Careys cared to ask there, and their
parties consisted always of the curate, Josiah Graves with his
sister, Dr. Wigram and his wife. After tea Miss Graves played one
or two of Mendelssohn's Songs without Words, and Mrs. Carey sang
When the Swallows Homeward Fly, or Trot, Trot, My Pony.

  But the Careys did not give tea-parties often; the
preparations upset them, and when their guests were gone they felt
themselves exhausted. They preferred to have tea by themselves, and
after tea they played backgammon. Mrs. Carey arranged that her
husband should win, because he did not like losing. They had cold
supper at eight. It was a scrappy meal because Mary Ann resented
getting anything ready after tea, and Mrs. Carey helped to clear
away. Mrs. Carey seldom ate more than bread and butter, with a
little stewed fruit to follow, but the Vicar had a slice of cold
meat. Immediately after supper Mrs. Carey rang the bell for
prayers, and then Philip went to bed. He rebelled against being
undressed by Mary Ann and after a while succeeded in establishing
his right to dress and undress himself. At nine o'clock Mary Ann
brought in the eggs and the plate. Mrs. Carey wrote the date on
each egg and put the number down in a book. She then took the
plate-basket on her arm and went upstairs. Mr. Carey continued to
read one of his old books, but as the clock struck ten he got up,
put out the lamps, and followed his wife to bed.

  When Philip arrived there was some difficulty in
deciding on which evening he should have his bath. It was never
easy to get plenty of hot water, since the kitchen boiler did not
work, and it was impossible for two persons to have a bath on the
same day. The only man who had a bathroom in Blackstable was Mr.
Wilson, and it was thought ostentatious of him. Mary Ann had her
bath in the kitchen on Monday night, because she liked to begin the
week clean. Uncle William could not have his on Saturday, because
he had a heavy day before him and he was always a little tired
after a bath, so he had it on Friday. Mrs. Carey had hers on
Thursday for the same reason. It looked as though Saturday were
naturally indicated for Philip, but Mary Ann said she couldn't keep
the fire up on Saturday night: what with all the cooking on Sunday,
having to make pastry and she didn't know what all, she did not
feel up to giving the boy his bath on Saturday night; and it was
quite clear that he could not bath himself. Mrs. Carey was shy
about bathing a boy, and of course the Vicar had his sermon. But
the Vicar insisted that Philip should be clean and sweet for the
lord's Day. Mary Ann said she would rather go than be put upon –
and after eighteen years she didn't expect to have more work given
her, and they might show some consideration – and Philip said he
didn't want anyone to bath him, but could very well bath himself.
This settled it. Mary Ann said she was quite sure he wouldn't bath
himself properly, and rather than he should go dirty – and not
because he was going into the presence of the Lord, but because she
couldn't abide a boy who wasn't properly washed – she'd work
herself to the bone even if it was Saturday night.