And now, when the question of voting had come, this repulsive fact told

more strongly against Mr. Farebrother than it had done before. One

would know much better what to do if men's characters were more

consistent, and especially if one's friends were invariably fit for any

function they desired to undertake! Lydgate was convinced that if

there had been no valid objection to Mr. Farebrother, he would have

voted for him, whatever Bulstrode might have felt on the subject: he

did not intend to be a vassal of Bulstrode's. On the other hand, there

was Tyke, a man entirely given to his clerical office, who was simply

curate at a chapel of ease in St. Peter's parish, and had time for

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extra duty. Nobody had anything to say against Mr. Tyke, except that

they could not bear him, and suspected him of cant. Really, from his

point of view, Bulstrode was thoroughly justified.

But whichever way Lydgate began to incline, there was something to make

him wince; and being a proud man, he was a little exasperated at being

obliged to wince. He did not like frustrating his own best purposes by

getting on bad terms with Bulstrode; he did not like voting against

Farebrother, and helping to deprive him of function and salary; and the

question occurred whether the additional forty pounds might not leave

the Vicar free from that ignoble care about winning at cards.

Moreover, Lydgate did not like the consciousness that in voting for

Tyke he should be voting on the side obviously convenient for himself.

But would the end really be his own convenience? Other people would

say so, and would allege that he was currying favor with Bulstrode for

the sake of making himself important and getting on in the world. What

then? He for his own part knew that if his personal prospects simply

had been concerned, he would not have cared a rotten nut for the

banker's friendship or enmity. What he really cared for was a medium

for his work, a vehicle for his ideas; and after all, was he not bound

to prefer the object of getting a good hospital, where he could

demonstrate the specific distinctions of fever and test therapeutic

results, before anything else connected with this chaplaincy? For the

first time Lydgate was feeling the hampering threadlike pressure of

small social conditions, and their frustrating complexity. At the end

of his inward debate, when he set out for the hospital, his hope was

really in the chance that discussion might somehow give a new aspect to

the question, and make the scale dip so as to exclude the necessity for

voting. I think he trusted a little also to the energy which is

begotten by circumstances--some feeling rushing warmly and making

resolve easy, while debate in cool blood had only made it more

difficult. However it was, he did not distinctly say to himself on

which side he would vote; and all the while he was inwardly resenting

the subjection which had been forced upon him. It would have seemed

beforehand like a ridiculous piece of bad logic that he, with his

unmixed resolutions of independence and his select purposes, would find

himself at the very outset in the grasp of petty alternatives, each of

which was repugnant to him. In his student's chambers, he had

prearranged his social action quite differently.




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