Shirley
lard, bread, cold meat, or other kitchen perquisite whatever. I know we
never get up illuminations at Fieldhead, but I could not ask the meaning
of sundry quite unaccountable pounds of candles. We do not wash for the
parish, yet I viewed in silence items of soap and bleaching-powder
calculated to satisfy the solicitude of the most anxious inquirer after
our position in reference to those articles. Carnivorous I am not, nor
is Mrs. Pryor, nor is Mrs. Gill herself, yet I only hemmed and opened my
eyes a little wide when I saw butchers' bills whose figures seemed to
prove that fact--falsehood, I mean. Caroline, you may laugh at me, but
you can't change me. I am a poltroon on certain points; I feel it. There
is a base alloy of moral cowardice in my composition. I blushed and hung
my head before Mrs. Gill, when she ought to have been faltering
confessions to me. I found it impossible to get up the spirit even to
hint, much less to prove, to her that she was a cheat. I have no calm
dignity, no true courage about me."
"Shirley, what fit of self-injustice is this? My uncle, who is not given
to speak well of women, says there are not ten thousand men in England
as genuinely fearless as you."
"I am fearless, physically; I am never nervous about danger. I was not
startled from self-possession when Mr. Wynne's great red bull rose with
a bellow before my face, as I was crossing the cowslip lea alone,
stooped his begrimed, sullen head, and made a run at me; but I was
afraid of seeing Mrs. Gill brought to shame and confusion of face. You
have twice--ten times--my strength of mind on certain subjects,
Caroline. You, whom no persuasion can induce to pass a bull, however
quiet he looks, would have firmly shown my housekeeper she had done
wrong; then you would have gently and wisely admonished her; and at
last, I dare say, provided she had seemed penitent, you would have very
sweetly forgiven her. Of this conduct I am incapable. However, in spite
of exaggerated imposition, I still find we live within our means. I have
money in hand, and I really must do some good with it. The Briarfield
poor are badly off; they must be helped. What ought I to do, think you,
Lina? Had I not better distribute the cash at once?"
"No, indeed, Shirley; you will not manage properly. I have often noticed
that your only notion of charity is to give shillings and half-crowns in
a careless, free-handed sort of way, which is liable to continual abuse.
You must have a prime minister, or you will get yourself into a series
of scrapes. You suggested Miss Ainley yourself; to Miss Ainley I will
apply. And, meantime, promise to keep quiet, and not begin throwing away
your money. What a great deal you have, Shirley! You must feel very rich
with all that?"
"Yes; I feel of consequence. It is not an immense sum, but I feel
responsible for its disposal; and really this responsibility weighs on
my mind more heavily than I could have expected. They say that there are
some families almost starving to death in Briarfield. Some of my own
cottagers are in wretched circumstances. I must and will help them."
"Some people say we shouldn't give alms to the poor, Shirley."
"They are great fools for their pains. For those who are not hungry, it
is easy to palaver about the degradation of charity, and so on: but they
forget the brevity of life, as well as its bitterness. We have none of
us long to live. Let us help each other through seasons of want and woe
as well as we can, without heeding in the least the scruples of vain
philosophy."
"But you do help others, Shirley. You give a great deal as it is."
"Not enough. I must give more, or, I tell you, my brother's blood will
some day be crying to Heaven against me. For, after all, if political
incendiaries come here to kindle conflagration in the neighbourhood, and
my property is attacked, I shall defend it like a tigress--I know I
shall. Let me listen to Mercy as long as she is near me. Her voice once
drowned by the shout of ruffian defiance, and I shall be full of
impulses to resist and quell. If once the poor gather and rise in the
form of the mob, I shall turn against them as an aristocrat; if they
bully me, I must defy: if they attack, I must resist, and I will."
"You talk like Robert."
"I feel like Robert, only more fierily. Let them meddle with Robert, or
Robert's mill, or Robert's interests, and I shall hate them. At present
I am no patrician, nor do I regard the poor around me as plebeians; but
if once they violently wrong me or mine, and then presume to dictate to
us, I shall quite forget pity for their wretchedness and respect for
their poverty, in scorn of their ignorance and wrath at their
insolence."
"Shirley, how your eyes flash!"
"Because my soul burns. Would you, any more than me, let Robert be borne
down by numbers?"
"If I had your power to aid Robert, I would use it as you mean to use
it. If I could be such a friend to him as you can be, I would stand by
him, as you mean to stand by him, till death."
"And now, Lina, though your eyes don't flash, they glow. You drop your
lids; but I saw a kindled spark. However, it is not yet come to
fighting. What I want to do is to _prevent_ mischief. I cannot forget,
either day or night, that these embittered feelings of the poor against
the rich have been generated in suffering: they would neither hate nor
envy us if they did not deem us so much happier than themselves. To
allay this suffering, and thereby lessen this hate, let me, out of my
abundance, give abundantly; and that the donation may go farther, let it
be made wisely. To that intent, we must introduce some clear, calm,
practical sense into our councils. So go and fetch Miss Ainley."
Without another word Caroline put on her bonnet and departed. It may,
perhaps, appear strange that neither she nor Shirley thought of
consulting Mrs. Pryor on their scheme; but they were wise in abstaining.
To have consulted her--and this they knew by instinct--would only have
been to involve her in painful embarrassment. She was far better
informed, better read, a deeper thinker than Miss Ainley, but of
administrative energy, of executive activity, she had none. She would
subscribe her own modest mite to a charitable object willingly--secret
almsgiving suited her; but in public plans, on a large scale, she could
take no part; as to originating them, that was out of the question. This
Shirley knew, and therefore she did not trouble Mrs. Pryor by unavailing
conferences, which could only remind her of her own deficiencies, and do
no good.
It was a bright day for Miss Ainley when she was summoned to Fieldhead
to deliberate on projects so congenial to her; when she was seated with
all honour and deference at a table with paper, pen, ink, and--what was
best of all--cash before her, and requested to draw up a regular plan
for administering relief to the destitute poor of Briarfield. She, who
knew them all, had studied their wants, had again and again felt in what
way they might best be succoured, could the means of succour only be
found, was fully competent to the undertaking, and a meek exultation
gladdened her kind heart as she felt herself able to answer clearly and
promptly the eager questions put by the two young girls, as she showed
them in her answers how much and what serviceable knowledge she had
acquired of the condition of her fellow-creatures around her.
Shirley placed at her disposal £300, and at sight of the money Miss
Ainley's eyes filled with joyful tears; for she already saw the hungry
fed, the naked clothed, the sick comforted thereby. She quickly drew up
a simple, sensible plan for its expenditure; and she assured them
brighter times would now come round, for she doubted not the lady of
Fieldhead's example would be followed by others. She should try to get
additional subscriptions, and to form a fund; but first she must consult
the clergy. Yes, on that point she was peremptory. Mr. Helstone, Dr.
Boultby, Mr. Hall, _must_ be consulted (for not only must Briarfield be
relieved, but Whinbury and Nunnely). It would, she averred, be
presumption in her to take a single step unauthorized by them.
The clergy were sacred beings in Miss Ainley's eyes; no matter what
might be the insignificance of the individual, his station made him
holy. The very curates--who, in their trivial arrogance, were hardly
worthy to tie her patten-strings, or carry her cotton umbrella, or check
woollen shawl--she, in her pure, sincere enthusiasm, looked upon as
sucking saints. No matter how clearly their little vices and enormous
absurdities were pointed out to her, she could not see them; she was
blind to ecclesiastical defects; the white surplice covered a multitude
of sins.
Shirley, knowing this harmless infatuation on the part of her
recently-chosen prime minister, stipulated expressly that the curates
were to have no voice in the disposal of the money, that their meddling
fingers were not to be inserted into the pie. The rectors, of course,
must be paramount, and they might be trusted. They had some experience,
some sagacity, and Mr. Hall, at least, had sympathy and loving-kindness
for his fellow-men; but as for the youth under them, they must be set
aside, kept down, and taught that subordination and silence best became
their years and capacity.
It was with some horror Miss Ainley heard this language. Caroline,
however, interposing with a mild word or two in praise of Mr Sweeting,
calmed her again. Sweeting was, indeed, her own favourite. She
endeavoured to respect Messrs. Malone and Donne, but the slices of
sponge-cake and glasses of cowslip or primrose wine she had at different
times administered to Sweeting, when he came to see her in her little
cottage, were ever offered with sentiments of truly motherly regard. The
same innocuous collation she had once presented to Malone; but that
personage evinced such open scorn of the offering, she had never
ventured to renew it. To Donne she always served the treat, and was
happy to see his approbation of it proved beyond a doubt by the fact of
his usually eating two pieces of cake, and putting a third in his
pocket.
Indefatigable in her exertions where good was to be done, Miss Ainley
would immediately have set out on a walk of ten miles round to the three
rectors, in order to show her plan, and humbly solicit their approval;
but Miss Keeldar interdicted this, and proposed, as an amendment, to
collect the clergy in a small select reunion that evening at Fieldhead.
Miss Ainley was to meet them, and the plan was to be discussed in full
privy council.
Shirley managed to get the senior priesthood together accordingly, and
before the old maid's arrival, she had, further, talked all the
gentlemen into the most charming mood imaginable. She herself had taken
in hand Dr. Boultby and Mr. Helstone. The first was a stubborn old
Welshman, hot, opinionated, and obstinate, but withal a man who did a
great deal of good, though not without making some noise about it. The
latter we know. She had rather a friendly feeling for both, especially
for old Helstone; and it cost her no trouble to be quite delightful to
them. She took them round the garden; she gathered them flowers; she was
like a kind daughter to them. Mr. Hall she left to Caroline--or rather,
it was to Caroline's care Mr. Hall consigned himself.
He generally sought Caroline in every party where she and he happened to
be. He was not in general a lady's man, though all ladies liked him;
something of a book-worm he was, near-sighted, spectacled, now and then
abstracted. To old ladies he was kind as a son. To men of every
occupation and grade he was acceptable. The truth, simplicity, frankness
of his manners, the nobleness of his integrity, the reality and