the way of all flesh-第94节

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difficulties。　　Any　sect　which　showed　its　superiority　in　these
respects　might　carry　all　before　it；　but　none　other　would　make　much
headway　for　long　together。　　Christianity　was　true　in　so　far　as　it
had　fostered　beauty；　and　it　had　fostered　much　beauty。　　It　was　false
in　so　far　as　it　fostered　ugliness；　and　it　had　fostered　much
ugliness。　　It　was　therefore　not　a　little　true　and　not　a　little
false；　on　the　whole　one　might　go　farther　and　fare　worse；　the　wisest
course　would　be　to　live　with　it；　and　make　the　best　and　not　the　worst
of　it。　　The　writer　urged　that　we　become　persecutors　as　a　matter　of
course　as　soon　as　we　begin　to　feel　very　strongly　upon　any　subject；
we　ought　not　therefore　to　do　this；　we　ought　not　to　feel　very
stronglyeven　upon　that　institution　which　was　dearer　to　the　writer
than　any　otherthe　Church　of　England。　　We　should　be　churchmen；　but
somewhat　lukewarm　churchmen；　inasmuch　as　those　who　care　very　much
about　either　religion　or　irreligion　are　seldom　observed　to　be　very
well　bred　or　agreeable　people。　　The　Church　herself　should　approach
as　nearly　to　that　of　Laodicea　as　was　compatible　with　her　continuing
to　be　a　Church　at　all；　and　each　individual　member　should　only　be　hot
in　striving　to　be　as　lukewarm　as　possible。

The　book　rang　with　the　courage　alike　of　conviction　and　of　an　entire
absence　of　conviction；　it　appeared　to　be　the　work　of　men　who　had　a
rule…of…thumb　way　of　steering　between　iconoclasm　on　the　one　hand　and
credulity　on　the　other；　who　cut　Gordian　knots　as　a　matter　of　course
when　it　suited　their　convenience；　who　shrank　from　no　conclusion　in
theory；　nor　from　any　want　of　logic　in　practice　so　long　as　they　were
illogical　of　malice　prepense；　and　for　what　they　held　to　be
sufficient　reason。　　The　conclusions　were　conservative；　quietistic；
comforting。　　The　arguments　by　which　they　were　reached　were　taken
from　the　most　advanced　writers　of　the　day。　　All　that　these　people
contended　for　was　granted　them；　but　the　fruits　of　victory　were　for
the　most　part　handed　over　to　those　already　in　possession。

Perhaps　the　passage　which　attracted　most　attention　in　the　book　was
one　from　the　essay　on　the　various　marriage　systems　of　the　world。　　It
ran：…

〃If　people　require　us　to　construct；〃　exclaimed　the　writer；　〃we　set
good　breeding　as　the　corner…stone　of　our　edifice。　　We　would　have　it
ever　present　consciously　or　unconsciously　in　the　minds　of　all　as　the
central　faith　in　which　they　should　live　and　move　and　have　their
being；　as　the　touchstone　of　all　things　whereby　they　may　be　known　as
good　or　evil　according　as　they　make　for　good　breeding　or　against
it。〃

〃That　a　man　should　have　been　bred　well　and　breed　others　well；　that
his　figure；　head；　hands；　feet；　voice；　manner　and　clothes　should
carry　conviction　upon　this　point；　so　that　no　one　can　look　at　him
without　seeing　that　he　has　come　of　good　stock　and　is　likely　to　throw
good　stock　himself；　this　is　the　desiderandum。　　And　the　same　with　a
woman。　　The　greatest　number　of　these　well…bred　men　and　women；　and
the　greatest　happiness　of　these　well…bred　men　and　women；　this　is　the
highest　good；　towards　this　all　government；　all　social　conventions；
all　art；　literature　and　science　should　directly　or　indirectly　tend。
Holy　men　and　holy　women　are　those　who　keep　this　unconsciously　in
view　at　all　times　whether　of　work　or　pastime。〃

If　Ernest　had　published　this　work　in　his　own　name　I　should　think　it
would　have　fallen　stillborn　from　the　press；　but　the　form　he　had
chosen　was　calculated　at　that　time　to　arouse　curiosity；　and　as　I
have　said　he　had　wickedly　dropped　a　few　hints　which　the　reviewers
did　not　think　anyone　would　have　been　impudent　enough　to　do　if　he
were　not　a　bishop；　or　at　any　rate　some　one　in　authority。　　A　well…
known　judge　was　spoken　of　as　being　another　of　the　writers；　and　the
idea　spread　ere　long　that　six　or　seven　of　the　leading　bishops　and
judges　had　laid　their　heads　together　to　produce　a　volume；　which
should　at　once　outbid　〃Essays　and　Reviews〃　and　counteract　the
influence　of　that　then　still　famous　work。

Reviewers　are　men　of　like　passions　with　ourselves；　and　with　them　as
with　everyone　else　omne　ignotum　pro　magnifico。　　The　book　was　really
an　able　one　and　abounded　with　humour；　just　satire；　and　good　sense。
It　struck　a　new　note　and　the　speculation　which　for　some　time　was
rife　concerning　its　authorship　made　many　turn　to　it　who　would　never
have　looked　at　it　otherwise。　　One　of　the　most　gushing　weeklies　had　a
fit　over　it；　and　declared　it　to　be　the　finest　thing　that　had　been
done　since　the　〃Provincial　Letters〃　of　Pascal。　　Once　a　month　or　so
that　weekly　always　found　some　picture　which　was　the　finest　that　had
been　done　since　the　old　masters；　or　some　satire　that　was　the　finest
that　had　appeared　since　Swift　or　some　something　which　was
incomparably　the　finest　that　had　appeared　since　something　else。　　If
Ernest　had　put　his　name　to　the　book；　and　the　writer　had　known　that
it　was　by　a　nobody；　he　would　doubtless　have　written　in　a　very
different　strain。　　Reviewers　like　to　think　that　for　aught　they　know
they　are　patting　a　Duke　or　even　a　Prince　of　the　blood　upon　the　back；
and　lay　it　on　thick　till　they　find　they　have　been　only　praising
Brown；　Jones　or　Robinson。　　Then　they　are　disappointed；　and　as　a
general　rule　will　pay　Brown；　Jones　or　Robinson　out。

Ernest　was　not　so　much　up　to　the　ropes　of　the　literary　world　as　I
was；　and　I　am　afraid　his　head　was　a　little　turned　when　he　woke　up
one　morning　to　find　himself　famous。　　He　was　Christina's　son；　and
perhaps　would　not　have　been　able　to　do　what　he　had　done　if　he　was
not　capable　of　occasional　undue　elation。　　Ere　long；　however；　he
found　out　all　about　it；　and　settled　quietly　down　to　write　a　series
of　books；　in　which　he　insisted　on　saying　things　which　no　one　else
would　say　even　if　they　could；　or　could　even　if　they　would。

He　has　got　himself　a　bad　literary　character。　　I　said　to　him
laughingly　one　day　that　he　was　like　the　man　in　the　last　century　of
whom　it　was　said　that　nothing　but　such　a　character　could　keep　down
such　parts。

He　laughed　and　said　he　would　rather　be　like　that　than　like　a　modern
writer　or　two　whom　he　could　name；　whose　parts　were　so　poor　that　they
could　be　kept　up　by　nothing　but　by　such　a　character。

I　remember　soon　after　one　of　these　books　was　published　I　happened　to
meet　Mrs　Jupp　to　whom；　by　the　way；　Ernest　made　a　small　weekly
allowance。　　It　was　at　Ernest's　chambers；　and　for　some　reason　we　were
left　alone　for　a　few　minutes。　　I　said　to　her：　　〃Mr　Pontifex　has
written　another　book；　Mrs　Jupp。〃

〃Lor'　now；〃　said　she；　〃has　he　really？　　Dear　gentleman！　　Is　it　about
love？〃　　And　the　old　sinner　threw　up　a　wicked　sheep's　eye　glance　at
me　from　under　her　aged　eyelids。　　I　forget　what　there　was　in　my　reply
which　provoked　itprobably　nothingbut　she　went　rattling　on　at
full　speed　to　the　effect　that　Bell　had　given　her　a　ticket　for　the
opera；　〃So；　of　course；〃　she　said；　〃I　went。　　I　didn't　understand　one
word　of　it；　for　it　was　all　French；　but　I　saw　their　legs。　　Oh　dear；
oh　dear！　　I'm　afraid　I　shan't　be　here　much　longer；　and　when　dear　Mr
Pontifex　sees　me　in　my　coffin　he'll　say；　'Poor　old　Jupp；　she'll
never　talk　broad　any　more'；　but　bless　you　I'm　not　so　old　as　all
that；　and　I'm　taking　lessons　in　dancing。〃

At　this　moment　Ernest　came　in　and　the　conversation　was　changed。　　Mrs
Jupp　asked　if　he　was　still　going　on　writing　more　books　now　that　this
one　was　done。　　〃Of　course　I　am；〃　he　answered；　〃I'm　always　writing
books；　here　is　the　manuscript　of　my　next；〃　and　he　showed　her　a　heap
of　paper。

〃Well　now；〃　she　exclaimed；　〃dear；　dear　me；　and　is　that　manuscript？
I've　often　heard　talk　about　manuscripts；　but　I　never　thought　I
should　live　to　see　some　myself。　　Well！　well！　　So　that　is　really
manuscript？〃

There　were　a　few　geraniums　in　the　window　and　they　did　not　look　well。
Ernest　asked　Mrs　Jupp　if　she　understood　flowers。　　〃I　understand　the
language　of　flowers；〃　she　said；　with　one　of　her　most　bewitching
leers；　and　on　this　we　sent　her　off　till　she　should　choose　to　honour
us　with　another　visit；　which　she　knows　she　is　privileged　from　time
to　time　to　do；　for　Ernest　likes　her。



CHAPTER　LXXXVI



And　now　I　must　bring　my　story　to　a　close。

The　preceding　chapter　was　written　soon　after　the　events　it　records
that　is　to　say　in　the　spring　of　1867。　　By　that　time　my　story　had
been　written　up　to　this　point；　but　it　has　been　altered　here　and
there　from　time　to　time　occasionally。　　It　is　now　the　autumn　of　1882；
and　if　I　am　to　say　more　I　should　do　so　quickly；　for　I　am　eighty
years　old　and　though　well　in　health　cannot　conceal　from　myself　that
I　am　no　longer　young。　　Ernest　himself　is　forty…seven；　though　he
hardly　looks　it。

He　is　richer　than　ever；　for　he　has　never　married　and　his　London　and
North…Western　shares　have　nearly　doubled　themselves。　　Through　sheer
inability　to　spend　his　income　he　has　been　obliged　to　hoard　in　self…
defence。　　He　still　lives　in　the　Temple　in　the　same　rooms　I　took　for
him　when　he　gave　up　his　shop；　for　no　one　has　been　able　to　induce　him
to　take　a　house。　　His　house；　he　says；　is　wherever　there　is　a　good
hotel。　　When　he　is　in　town　he　likes　to　work　and　to　be　quiet。　　When
out　of　town　he　feels　that　he　has　left　little　behind　him　that　can　go
wrong；　and　he　would　not　like　to　be　tied　to　a　sing