Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy
X
Jude returned to Melchester, which had the questionablerecommendation of being only a dozen and a half miles from his Sue'snow permanent residence. At first he felt that this nearness was adistinct reason for not going southward at all; but Christminsterwas too sad a place to bear, while the proximity of Shaston toMelchester might afford him the glory of worsting the Enemy in aclose engagement, such as was deliberately sought by the priests andvirgins of the early Church, who, disdaining an ignominious flightfrom temptation, became even chamber-partners with impunity.Jude did not pause to remember that, in the laconic words of thehistorian, ”insulted Nature sometimes vindicated her rights” in suchcircumstances.
He now returned with feverish desperation to his study for thepriesthood--in the recognition that the single-mindedness of hisaims, and his fidelity to the cause, had been more than questionableof late. His passion for Sue troubled his soul; yet his lawfulabandonment to the society of Arabella for twelve hours seemedinstinctively a worse thing--even though she had not told him of herSydney husband till afterwards. He had, he verily believed, overcomeall tendency to fly to liquor--which, indeed, he had never done fromtaste, but merely as an escape from intolerable misery of mind. Yethe perceived with despondency that, taken all round, he was a man oftoo many passions to make a good clergyman; the utmost he could hopefor was that in a life of constant internal warfare between flesh andspirit the former might not always be victorious.
As a hobby, auxiliary to his readings in Divinity, he developed hisslight skill in church-music and thorough-bass, till he could join inpart-singing from notation with some accuracy. A mile or two fromMelchester there was a restored village church, to which Jude hadoriginally gone to fix the new columns and capitals. By this meanshe had become acquainted with the organist, and the ultimate resultwas that he joined the choir as a bass voice.
He walked out to this parish twice every Sunday, and sometimes in theweek. One evening about Easter the choir met for practice, and a newhymn which Jude had heard of as being by a Wessex composer was to betried and prepared for the following week. It turned out to be astrangely emotional composition. As they all sang it over and overagain its harmonies grew upon Jude, and moved him exceedingly.
When they had finished he went round to the organist to makeinquiries. The score was in manuscript, the name of the composerbeing at the head, together with the title of the hymn: ”The Footof the Cross.”
”Yes,” said the organist. ”He is a local man. He is a professionalmusician at Kennetbridge--between here and Christminster. Thevicar knows him. He was brought up and educated in Christminstertraditions, which accounts for the quality of the piece. I think heplays in the large church there, and has a surpliced choir. He comesto Melchester sometimes, and once tried to get the cathedral organwhen the post was vacant. The hymn is getting about everywhere thisEaster.”
As he walked humming the air on his way home, Jude fell to musingon its composer, and the reasons why he composed it. What a man ofsympathies he must be! Perplexed and harassed as he himself wasabout Sue and Arabella, and troubled as was his conscience by thecomplication of his position, how he would like to know that man!”He of all men would understand my difficulties,” said the impulsiveJude. If there were any person in the world to choose as aconfidant, this composer would be the one, for he must have suffered,and throbbed, and yearned.
In brief, ill as he could afford the time and money for the journey,Fawley resolved, like the child that he was, to go to Kennetbridgethe very next Sunday. He duly started, early in the morning, for itwas only by a series of crooked railways that he could get to thetown. About mid-day he reached it, and crossing the bridge into thequaint old borough he inquired for the house of the composer.
They told him it was a red brick building some little way further on.Also that the gentleman himself had just passed along the street notfive minutes before.
”Which way?” asked Jude with alacrity.
”Straight along homeward from church.”
Jude hastened on, and soon had the pleasure of observing a man in ablack coat and a black slouched felt hat no considerable distanceahead. Stretching out his legs yet more widely, he stalked after.”A hungry soul in pursuit of a full soul!” he said. ”I must speakto that man!”
He could not, however, overtake the musician before he had enteredhis own house, and then arose the question if this were an expedienttime to call. Whether or not he decided to do so there and then, nowthat he had got here, the distance home being too great for him towait till late in the afternoon. This man of soul would understandscant ceremony, and might be quite a perfect adviser in a case inwhich an earthly and illegitimate passion had cunningly obtainedentrance into his heart through the opening afforded for religion.
Jude accordingly rang the bell, and was admitted.
The musician came to him in a moment, and being respectably dressed,good-looking, and frank in manner, Jude obtained a favourablereception. He was nevertheless conscious that there would be acertain awkwardness in explaining his errand.
”I have been singing in the choir of a little church nearMelchester,” he said. ”And we have this week practised 'The Footof the Cross,' which I understand, sir, that you composed?”
”I did--a year or so ago.”
”I--like it. I think it supremely beautiful!”
”Ah well--other people have said so too. Yes, there's money init, if I could only see about getting it published. I have othercompositions to go with it, too; I wish I could bring them out; forI haven't made a five-pound note out of any of them yet. Thesepublishing people--they want the copyright of an obscure composer'swork, such as mine is, for almost less than I should have to pay aperson for making a fair manuscript copy of the score. The one youspeak of I have lent to various friends about here and Melchester,and so it has got to be sung a little. But music is a poor staff tolean on--I am giving it up entirely. You must go into trade if youwant to make money nowadays. The wine business is what I am thinkingof. This is my forthcoming list--it is not issued yet--but you cantake one.”
He handed Jude an advertisement list of several pages in bookletshape, ornamentally margined with a red line, in which were set forththe various clarets, champagnes, ports, sherries, and other wineswith which he purposed to initiate his new venture. It took Judemore than by surprise that the man with the soul was thus and thus;and he felt that he could not open up his confidences.
They talked a little longer, but constrainedly, for when the musicianfound that Jude was a poor man his manner changed from what it hadbeen while Jude's appearance and address deceived him as to hisposition and pursuits. Jude stammered out something about hisfeelings in wishing to congratulate the author on such an exaltedcomposition, and took an embarrassed leave.
All the way home by the slow Sunday train, sitting in the firelesswaiting-rooms on this cold spring day, he was depressed enough athis simplicity in taking such a journey. But no sooner did he reachhis Melchester lodging than he found awaiting him a letter which hadarrived that morning a few minutes after he had left the house. Itwas a contrite little note from Sue, in which she said, with sweethumility, that she felt she had been horrid in telling him hewas not to come to see her, that she despised herself for havingbeen so conventional; and that he was to be sure to come by theeleven-forty-five train that very Sunday, and have dinner with themat half-past one.
Jude almost tore his hair at having missed this letter till it wastoo late to act upon its contents; but he had chastened himselfconsiderably of late, and at last his chimerical expeditionto Kennetbridge really did seem to have been another specialintervention of Providence to keep him away from temptation. But agrowing impatience of faith, which he had noticed in himself morethan once of late, made him pass over in ridicule the idea that Godsent people on fools' errands. He longed to see her; he was angryat having missed her: and he wrote instantly, telling her what hadhappened, and saying he had not enough patience to wait till thefollowing Sunday, but would come any day in the week that she likedto name.
Since he wrote a little over-ardently, Sue, as her manner was,delayed her reply till Thursday before Good Friday, when she said hemight come that afternoon if he wished, this being the earliest dayon which she could welcome him, for she was now assistant-teacher inher husband's school. Jude therefore got leave from the cathedralworks at the trifling expense of a stoppage of pay, and went.
Jude returned to Melchester, which had the questionablerecommendation of being only a dozen and a half miles from his Sue'snow permanent residence. At first he felt that this nearness was adistinct reason for not going southward at all; but Christminsterwas too sad a place to bear, while the proximity of Shaston toMelchester might afford him the glory of worsting the Enemy in aclose engagement, such as was deliberately sought by the priests andvirgins of the early Church, who, disdaining an ignominious flightfrom temptation, became even chamber-partners with impunity.Jude did not pause to remember that, in the laconic words of thehistorian, ”insulted Nature sometimes vindicated her rights” in suchcircumstances.
He now returned with feverish desperation to his study for thepriesthood--in the recognition that the single-mindedness of hisaims, and his fidelity to the cause, had been more than questionableof late. His passion for Sue troubled his soul; yet his lawfulabandonment to the society of Arabella for twelve hours seemedinstinctively a worse thing--even though she had not told him of herSydney husband till afterwards. He had, he verily believed, overcomeall tendency to fly to liquor--which, indeed, he had never done fromtaste, but merely as an escape from intolerable misery of mind. Yethe perceived with despondency that, taken all round, he was a man oftoo many passions to make a good clergyman; the utmost he could hopefor was that in a life of constant internal warfare between flesh andspirit the former might not always be victorious.
As a hobby, auxiliary to his readings in Divinity, he developed hisslight skill in church-music and thorough-bass, till he could join inpart-singing from notation with some accuracy. A mile or two fromMelchester there was a restored village church, to which Jude hadoriginally gone to fix the new columns and capitals. By this meanshe had become acquainted with the organist, and the ultimate resultwas that he joined the choir as a bass voice.
He walked out to this parish twice every Sunday, and sometimes in theweek. One evening about Easter the choir met for practice, and a newhymn which Jude had heard of as being by a Wessex composer was to betried and prepared for the following week. It turned out to be astrangely emotional composition. As they all sang it over and overagain its harmonies grew upon Jude, and moved him exceedingly.
When they had finished he went round to the organist to makeinquiries. The score was in manuscript, the name of the composerbeing at the head, together with the title of the hymn: ”The Footof the Cross.”
”Yes,” said the organist. ”He is a local man. He is a professionalmusician at Kennetbridge--between here and Christminster. Thevicar knows him. He was brought up and educated in Christminstertraditions, which accounts for the quality of the piece. I think heplays in the large church there, and has a surpliced choir. He comesto Melchester sometimes, and once tried to get the cathedral organwhen the post was vacant. The hymn is getting about everywhere thisEaster.”
As he walked humming the air on his way home, Jude fell to musingon its composer, and the reasons why he composed it. What a man ofsympathies he must be! Perplexed and harassed as he himself wasabout Sue and Arabella, and troubled as was his conscience by thecomplication of his position, how he would like to know that man!”He of all men would understand my difficulties,” said the impulsiveJude. If there were any person in the world to choose as aconfidant, this composer would be the one, for he must have suffered,and throbbed, and yearned.
In brief, ill as he could afford the time and money for the journey,Fawley resolved, like the child that he was, to go to Kennetbridgethe very next Sunday. He duly started, early in the morning, for itwas only by a series of crooked railways that he could get to thetown. About mid-day he reached it, and crossing the bridge into thequaint old borough he inquired for the house of the composer.
They told him it was a red brick building some little way further on.Also that the gentleman himself had just passed along the street notfive minutes before.
”Which way?” asked Jude with alacrity.
”Straight along homeward from church.”
Jude hastened on, and soon had the pleasure of observing a man in ablack coat and a black slouched felt hat no considerable distanceahead. Stretching out his legs yet more widely, he stalked after.”A hungry soul in pursuit of a full soul!” he said. ”I must speakto that man!”
He could not, however, overtake the musician before he had enteredhis own house, and then arose the question if this were an expedienttime to call. Whether or not he decided to do so there and then, nowthat he had got here, the distance home being too great for him towait till late in the afternoon. This man of soul would understandscant ceremony, and might be quite a perfect adviser in a case inwhich an earthly and illegitimate passion had cunningly obtainedentrance into his heart through the opening afforded for religion.
Jude accordingly rang the bell, and was admitted.
The musician came to him in a moment, and being respectably dressed,good-looking, and frank in manner, Jude obtained a favourablereception. He was nevertheless conscious that there would be acertain awkwardness in explaining his errand.
”I have been singing in the choir of a little church nearMelchester,” he said. ”And we have this week practised 'The Footof the Cross,' which I understand, sir, that you composed?”
”I did--a year or so ago.”
”I--like it. I think it supremely beautiful!”
”Ah well--other people have said so too. Yes, there's money init, if I could only see about getting it published. I have othercompositions to go with it, too; I wish I could bring them out; forI haven't made a five-pound note out of any of them yet. Thesepublishing people--they want the copyright of an obscure composer'swork, such as mine is, for almost less than I should have to pay aperson for making a fair manuscript copy of the score. The one youspeak of I have lent to various friends about here and Melchester,and so it has got to be sung a little. But music is a poor staff tolean on--I am giving it up entirely. You must go into trade if youwant to make money nowadays. The wine business is what I am thinkingof. This is my forthcoming list--it is not issued yet--but you cantake one.”
He handed Jude an advertisement list of several pages in bookletshape, ornamentally margined with a red line, in which were set forththe various clarets, champagnes, ports, sherries, and other wineswith which he purposed to initiate his new venture. It took Judemore than by surprise that the man with the soul was thus and thus;and he felt that he could not open up his confidences.
They talked a little longer, but constrainedly, for when the musicianfound that Jude was a poor man his manner changed from what it hadbeen while Jude's appearance and address deceived him as to hisposition and pursuits. Jude stammered out something about hisfeelings in wishing to congratulate the author on such an exaltedcomposition, and took an embarrassed leave.
All the way home by the slow Sunday train, sitting in the firelesswaiting-rooms on this cold spring day, he was depressed enough athis simplicity in taking such a journey. But no sooner did he reachhis Melchester lodging than he found awaiting him a letter which hadarrived that morning a few minutes after he had left the house. Itwas a contrite little note from Sue, in which she said, with sweethumility, that she felt she had been horrid in telling him hewas not to come to see her, that she despised herself for havingbeen so conventional; and that he was to be sure to come by theeleven-forty-five train that very Sunday, and have dinner with themat half-past one.
Jude almost tore his hair at having missed this letter till it wastoo late to act upon its contents; but he had chastened himselfconsiderably of late, and at last his chimerical expeditionto Kennetbridge really did seem to have been another specialintervention of Providence to keep him away from temptation. But agrowing impatience of faith, which he had noticed in himself morethan once of late, made him pass over in ridicule the idea that Godsent people on fools' errands. He longed to see her; he was angryat having missed her: and he wrote instantly, telling her what hadhappened, and saying he had not enough patience to wait till thefollowing Sunday, but would come any day in the week that she likedto name.
Since he wrote a little over-ardently, Sue, as her manner was,delayed her reply till Thursday before Good Friday, when she said hemight come that afternoon if he wished, this being the earliest dayon which she could welcome him, for she was now assistant-teacher inher husband's school. Jude therefore got leave from the cathedralworks at the trifling expense of a stoppage of pay, and went.