Doctor Thorne Read online

  CHAPTER II

  Long, Long Ago

  As Dr Thorne is our hero--or I should rather say my hero, a privilegeof selecting for themselves in this respect being left to all myreaders--and as Miss Mary Thorne is to be our heroine, a point onwhich no choice whatsoever is left to any one, it is necessary thatthey shall be introduced and explained and described in a proper,formal manner. I quite feel that an apology is due for beginning anovel with two long dull chapters full of description. I am perfectlyaware of the danger of such a course. In so doing I sin against thegolden rule which requires us all to put our best foot foremost, thewisdom of which is fully recognised by novelists, myself among thenumber. It can hardly be expected that any one will consent to gothrough with a fiction that offers so little of allurement in itsfirst pages; but twist it as I will I cannot do otherwise. I findthat I cannot make poor Mr Gresham hem and haw and turn himselfuneasily in his arm-chair in a natural manner till I have said whyhe is uneasy. I cannot bring in my doctor speaking his mind freelyamong the bigwigs till I have explained that it is in accordancewith his usual character to do so. This is unartistic on my part,and shows want of imagination as well as want of skill. Whether ornot I can atone for these faults by straightforward, simple, plainstory-telling--that, indeed, is very doubtful.

  Dr Thorne belonged to a family in one sense as good, and at any rateas old, as that of Mr Gresham; and much older, he was apt to boast,than that of the de Courcys. This trait in his character is mentionedfirst, as it was the weakness for which he was most conspicuous. Hewas second cousin to Mr Thorne of Ullathorne, a Barsetshire squireliving in the neighbourhood of Barchester, and who boasted that hisestate had remained in his family, descending from Thorne to Thorne,longer than had been the case with any other estate or any otherfamily in the county.

  But Dr Thorne was only a second cousin; and, therefore, though he wasentitled to talk of the blood as belonging to some extent to himself,he had no right to lay claim to any position in the county other thansuch as he might win for himself if he chose to locate himself in it.This was a fact of which no one was more fully aware than our doctorhimself. His father, who had been first cousin of a former SquireThorne, had been a clerical dignitary in Barchester, but had beendead now many years. He had had two sons; one he had educated as amedical man, but the other, and the younger, whom he had intendedfor the Bar, had not betaken himself in any satisfactory way to anycalling. This son had been first rusticated from Oxford, and thenexpelled; and thence returning to Barchester, had been the cause tohis father and brother of much suffering.

  Old Dr Thorne, the clergyman, died when the two brothers were yetyoung men, and left behind him nothing but some household andother property of the value of about two thousand pounds, which hebequeathed to Thomas, the elder son, much more than that having beenspent in liquidating debts contracted by the younger. Up to that timethere had been close harmony between the Ullathorne family and thatof the clergyman; but a month or two before the doctor's death--theperiod of which we are speaking was about two-and-twenty years beforethe commencement of our story--the then Mr Thorne of Ullathorne hadmade it understood that he would no longer receive at his house hiscousin Henry, whom he regarded as a disgrace to the family.

  Fathers are apt to be more lenient to their sons than uncles to theirnephews, or cousins to each other. Dr Thorne still hoped to reclaimhis black sheep, and thought that the head of his family showed anunnecessary harshness in putting an obstacle in his way of doing so.And if the father was warm in support of his profligate son, theyoung medical aspirant was warmer in support of his profligatebrother. Dr Thorne, junior, was no roue himself, but perhaps, as ayoung man, he had not sufficient abhorrence of his brother's vices.At any rate, he stuck to him manfully; and when it was signifiedin the Close that Henry's company was not considered desirable atUllathorne, Dr Thomas Thorne sent word to the squire that under suchcircumstances his visits there would also cease.

  This was not very prudent, as the young Galen had elected toestablish himself in Barchester, very mainly in expectation of thehelp which his Ullathorne connexion would give him. This, however, inhis anger he failed to consider; he was never known, either in earlyor in middle life, to consider in his anger those points which wereprobably best worth his consideration. This, perhaps, was of the lessmoment as his anger was of an unenduring kind, evaporating frequentlywith more celerity than he could get the angry words out of hismouth. With the Ullathorne people, however, he did establish aquarrel sufficiently permanent to be of vital injury to his medicalprospects.

  And then the father died, and the two brothers were left livingtogether with very little means between them. At this time therewere living, in Barchester, people of the name of Scatcherd. Of thatfamily, as then existing, we have only to do with two, a brother anda sister. They were in a low rank of life, the one being a journeymanstone-mason, and the other an apprentice to a straw-bonnet maker; butthey were, nevertheless, in some sort remarkable people. The sisterwas reputed in Barchester to be a model of female beauty of thestrong and robuster cast, and had also a better reputation as beinga girl of good character and honest, womanly conduct. Both of herbeauty and of her reputation her brother was exceedingly proud, andhe was the more so when he learnt that she had been asked in marriageby a decent master-tradesman in the city.

  Roger Scatcherd had also a reputation, but not for beauty orpropriety of conduct. He was known for the best stone-mason in thefour counties, and as the man who could, on occasion, drink the mostalcohol in a given time in the same localities. As a workman, indeed,he had higher reputate even than this: he was not only a good andvery quick stone-mason, but he had also a capacity for turning othermen into good stone-masons: he had a gift of knowing what a man couldand should do; and, by degrees, he taught himself what five, and ten,and twenty--latterly, what a thousand and two thousand men mightaccomplish among them: this, also, he did with very little aidfrom pen and paper, with which he was not, and never became, veryconversant. He had also other gifts and other propensities. He couldtalk in a manner dangerous to himself and others; he could persuadewithout knowing that he did so; and being himself an extremedemagogue, in those noisy times just prior to the Reform Bill,he created a hubbub in Barchester of which he himself had had noprevious conception.

  Henry Thorne among his other bad qualities had one which his friendsregarded as worse than all the others, and which perhaps justifiedthe Ullathorne people in their severity. He loved to consort withlow people. He not only drank--that might have been forgiven--but hedrank in tap-rooms with vulgar drinkers; so said his friends, and sosaid his enemies. He denied the charge as being made in the pluralnumber, and declared that his only low co-reveller was RogerScatcherd. With Roger Scatcherd, at any rate, he associated, andbecame as democratic as Roger was himself. Now the Thornes ofUllathorne were of the very highest order of Tory excellence.

  Whether or not Mary Scatcherd at once accepted the offer of therespectable tradesman, I cannot say. After the occurrence of certainevents which must here shortly be told, she declared that she neverhad done so. Her brother averred that she most positively had. Therespectable tradesman himself refused to speak on the subject.

  It is certain, however, that Scatcherd, who had hitherto been silentenough about his sister in those social hours which he passed withhis gentleman friend, boasted of the engagement when it was, as hesaid, made; and then boasted also of the girl's beauty. Scatcherd, inspite of his occasional intemperance, looked up in the world, and thecoming marriage of his sister was, he thought, suitable to his ownambition for his family.

  Henry Thorne had already heard of, and already seen, Mary Scatcherd;but hitherto she had not fallen in the way of his wickedness. Now,however, when he heard that she was to be decently married, the deviltempted him to tempt her. It boots not to tell all the tale. It cameout clearly enough when all was told, that he made her most distinctpromises of marriage; he even gave her such in writing; and havingin this way obtained from her her company during s
ome of her littleholidays--her Sundays or summer evenings--he seduced her. Scatcherdaccused him openly of having intoxicated her with drugs; and ThomasThorne, who took up the case, ultimately believed the charge. Itbecame known in Barchester that she was with child, and that theseducer was Henry Thorne.

  Roger Scatcherd, when the news first reached him, filled himself withdrink, and then swore that he would kill them both. With manly wrath,however, he set forth, first against the man, and that with manlyweapons. He took nothing with him but his fists and a big stick as hewent in search of Henry Thorne.

  The two brothers were then lodging together at a farm-house closeabutting on the town. This was not an eligible abode for a medicalpractitioner; but the young doctor had not been able to settlehimself eligibly since his father's death; and wishing to put whatconstraint he could upon his brother, had so located himself. To thisfarm-house came Roger Scatcherd one sultry summer evening, his angergleaming from his bloodshot eyes, and his rage heightened to madnessby the rapid pace at which he had run from the city, and by theardent spirits which were fermenting within him.

  At the very gate of the farm-yard, standing placidly with hiscigar in his mouth, he encountered Henry Thorne. He had thoughtof searching for him through the whole premises, of demanding hisvictim with loud exclamations, and making his way to him throughall obstacles. In lieu of that, there stood the man before him.

  "Well, Roger, what's in the wind?" said Henry Thorne.

  They were the last words he ever spoke. He was answered by a blowfrom the blackthorn. A contest ensued, which ended in Scatcherdkeeping his word--at any rate, as regarded the worst offender. Howthe fatal blow on the temple was struck was never exactly determined:one medical man said it might have been done in a fight with aheavy-headed stick; another thought that a stone had been used; athird suggested a stone-mason's hammer. It seemed, however, to beproved subsequently that no hammer was taken out, and Scatcherdhimself persisted in declaring that he had taken in his hand noweapon but the stick. Scatcherd, however, was drunk; and even thoughhe intended to tell the truth, may have been mistaken. There were,however, the facts that Thorne was dead; that Scatcherd had swornto kill him about an hour previously; and that he had without delayaccomplished his threat. He was arrested and tried for murder; allthe distressing circumstances of the case came out on the trial: hewas found guilty of manslaughter, and sentenced to be imprisoned forsix months. Our readers will probably think that the punishment wastoo severe.

  Thomas Thorne and the farmer were on the spot soon after Henry Thornehad fallen. The brother was at first furious for vengeance againsthis brother's murderer; but, as the facts came out, as he learntwhat had been the provocation given, what had been the feelings ofScatcherd when he left the city, determined to punish him who hadruined his sister, his heart was changed. Those were trying days forhim. It behoved him to do what in him lay to cover his brother'smemory from the obloquy which it deserved; it behoved him also tosave, or to assist to save, from undue punishment the unfortunate manwho had shed his brother's blood; and it behoved him also, at leastso he thought, to look after that poor fallen one whose misfortuneswere less merited than those either of his brother or of hers.

  And he was not the man to get through these things lightly, or withas much ease as he perhaps might conscientiously have done. He wouldpay for the defence of the prisoner; he would pay for the defence ofhis brother's memory; and he would pay for the poor girl's comforts.He would do this, and he would allow no one to help him. He stoodalone in the world, and insisted on so standing. Old Mr Thorneof Ullathorne offered again to open his arms to him; but he hadconceived a foolish idea that his cousin's severity had driven hisbrother on to his bad career, and he would consequently accept nokindness from Ullathorne. Miss Thorne, the old squire's daughter--acousin considerably older than himself, to whom he had at one timebeen much attached--sent him money; and he returned it to her under ablank cover. He had still enough for those unhappy purposes which hehad in hand. As to what might happen afterwards, he was then mainlyindifferent.

  The affair made much noise in the county, and was inquired intoclosely by many of the county magistrates; by none more closely thanby John Newbold Gresham, who was then alive. Mr Gresham was greatlytaken with the energy and justice shown by Dr Thorne on the occasionand when the trial was over, he invited him to Greshamsbury. Thevisit ended in the doctor establishing himself in that village.

  We must return for a moment to Mary Scatcherd. She was saved from thenecessity of encountering her brother's wrath, for that brother wasunder arrest for murder before he could get at her. Her immediatelot, however, was a cruel one. Deep as was her cause for angeragainst the man who had so inhumanly used her, still it was naturalthat she should turn to him with love rather than with aversion. Towhom else could she in such plight look for love? When, therefore,she heard that he was slain, her heart sank within her; she turnedher face to the wall, and laid herself down to die: to die a doubledeath, for herself and the fatherless babe that was now quick withinher.

  But, in fact, life had still much to offer, both to her and to herchild. For her it was still destined that she should, in a distantland, be the worthy wife of a good husband, and the happy mother ofmany children. For that embryo one it was destined--but that may notbe so quickly told: to describe her destiny this volume has yet to bewritten.

  Even in those bitterest days God tempered the wind to the shornlamb. Dr Thorne was by her bedside soon after the bloody tidingshad reached her, and did for her more than either her lover or herbrother could have done. When the baby was born, Scatcherd was stillin prison, and had still three months' more confinement to undergo.The story of her great wrongs and cruel usage was much talked of,and men said that one who had been so injured should be regarded ashaving in nowise sinned at all.

  One man, at any rate, so thought. At twilight, one evening, Thornewas surprised by a visit from a demure Barchester hardware dealer,whom he did not remember ever to have addressed before. This was theformer lover of poor Mary Scatcherd. He had a proposal to make, andit was this:--if Mary would consent to leave the country at once, toleave it without notice from her brother, or talk or eclat on thematter, he would sell all that he had, marry her, and emigrate.There was but one condition she must leave her baby behind her.The hardware-man could find it in his heart to be generous, to begenerous and true to his love; but he could not be generous enough tofather the seducer's child.

  "I could never abide it, sir, if I took it," said he; "and she,--whyin course she would always love it the best."

  In praising his generosity, who can mingle any censure for suchmanifest prudence? He would still make her the wife of his bosom,defiled in the eyes of the world as she had been; but she must beto him the mother of his own children, not the mother of another'schild.

  And now again our doctor had a hard task to win through. He saw atonce that it was his duty to use his utmost authority to induce thepoor girl to accept such an offer. She liked the man; and here wasopened to her a course which would have been most desirable, evenbefore her misfortune. But it is hard to persuade a mother to partwith her first babe; harder, perhaps, when the babe had been sofathered and so born than when the world has shone brightly on itsearliest hours. She at first refused stoutly: she sent a thousandloves, a thousand thanks, profusest acknowledgements for hisgenerosity to the man who showed her that he loved her so well; butNature, she said, would not let her leave her child.

  "And what will you do for her here, Mary?" said the doctor. Poor Maryreplied to him with a deluge of tears.

  "She is my niece," said the doctor, taking up the tiny infant in hishuge hands; "she is already the nearest thing, the only thing that Ihave in this world. I am her uncle, Mary. If you will go with thisman I will be father to her and mother to her. Of what bread I eat,she shall eat; of what cup I drink, she shall drink. See, Mary, hereis the Bible;" and he covered the book with his hand. "Leave her tome, and by this word she shall be my child."

  The mother
consented at last; left her baby with the doctor, married,and went to America. All this was consummated before Roger Scatcherdwas liberated from jail. Some conditions the doctor made. The firstwas, that Scatcherd should not know his sister's child was thusdisposed of. Dr Thorne, in undertaking to bring up the baby, did notchoose to encounter any tie with persons who might hereafter claimto be the girl's relations on the other side. Relations she wouldundoubtedly have had none had she been left to live or die as aworkhouse bastard; but should the doctor succeed in life, should heultimately be able to make this girl the darling of his own house,and then the darling of some other house, should she live and win theheart of some man whom the doctor might delight to call his friendand nephew; then relations might spring up whose ties would not beadvantageous.

  No man plumed himself on good blood more than Dr Thorne; no man hadgreater pride in his genealogical tree, and his hundred and thirtyclearly proved descents from MacAdam; no man had a stronger theoryas to the advantage held by men who have grandfathers over those whohave none, or have none worth talking about. Let it not be thoughtthat our doctor was a perfect character. No, indeed; most far fromperfect. He had within him an inner, stubborn, self-admiring pride,which made him believe himself to be better and higher than thosearound him, and this from some unknown cause which he could hardlyexplain to himself. He had a pride in being a poor man of a highfamily; he had a pride in repudiating the very family of which hewas proud; and he had a special pride in keeping his pride silentlyto himself. His father had been a Thorne, and his mother a Thorold.There was no better blood to be had in England. It was in thepossession of such properties as these that he condescended torejoice; this man, with a man's heart, a man's courage, and a man'shumanity! Other doctors round the county had ditch-water in theirveins; he could boast of a pure ichor, to which that of the greatOmnium family was but a muddy puddle. It was thus that he loved toexcel his brother practitioners, he who might have indulged in thepride of excelling them both in talent and in energy! We speak nowof his early days; but even in his maturer life, the man, thoughmellowed, was the same.

  This was the man who now promised to take to his bosom as his ownchild a poor bastard whose father was already dead, and whosemother's family was such as the Scatcherds! It was necessary thatthe child's history should be known to none. Except to the mother'sbrother it was an object of interest to no one. The mother had forsome short time been talked of; but now the nine-days' wonder was awonder no longer. She went off to her far-away home; her husband'sgenerosity was duly chronicled in the papers, and the babe was leftuntalked of and unknown.

  It was easy to explain to Scatcherd that the child had not lived.There was a parting interview between the brother and sister in thejail, during which, with real tears and unaffected sorrow, the motherthus accounted for the offspring of her shame. Then she started,fortunate in her coming fortunes; and the doctor took with him hischarge to the new country in which they were both to live. There hefound for her a fitting home till she should be old enough to sitat his table and live in his bachelor house; and no one but old MrGresham knew who she was, or whence she had come.

  Then Roger Scatcherd, having completed his six months' confinement,came out of prison.

  Roger Scatcherd, though his hands were now red with blood, was to bepitied. A short time before the days of Henry Thorne's death he hadmarried a young wife in his own class of life, and had made manyresolves that henceforward his conduct should be such as might becomea married man, and might not disgrace the respectable brother-in-lawhe was about to have given him. Such was his condition when he firstheard of his sister's plight. As has been said, he filled himselfwith drink and started off on the scent of blood.

  During his prison days his wife had to support herself as she might.The decent articles of furniture which they had put together weresold; she gave up their little house, and, bowed down by misery, shealso was brought near to death. When he was liberated he at once gotwork; but those who have watched the lives of such people know howhard it is for them to recover lost ground. She became a motherimmediately after his liberation, and when her child was born theywere in direst want; for Scatcherd was again drinking, and hisresolves were blown to the wind.

  The doctor was then living at Greshamsbury. He had gone over therebefore the day on which he undertook the charge of poor Mary's baby,and soon found himself settled as the Greshamsbury doctor. Thisoccurred very soon after the birth of the young heir. His predecessorin this career had "bettered" himself, or endeavoured to do so, byseeking the practice of some large town, and Lady Arabella, at a verycritical time, was absolutely left with no other advice than that ofa stranger, picked up, as she declared to Lady de Courcy, somewhereabout Barchester jail, or Barchester court-house, she did not knowwhich.

  Of course Lady Arabella could not suckle the young heir herself.Ladies Arabella never can. They are gifted with the powers of beingmothers, but not nursing-mothers. Nature gives them bosoms for show,but not for use. So Lady Arabella had a wet-nurse. At the end of sixmonths the new doctor found Master Frank was not doing quite so wellas he should do; and after a little trouble it was discovered thatthe very excellent young woman who had been sent express from CourcyCastle to Greshamsbury--a supply being kept up on the lord's demesnefor the family use--was fond of brandy. She was at once sent back tothe castle, of course; and, as Lady de Courcy was too much in dudgeonto send another, Dr Thorne was allowed to procure one. He thought ofthe misery of Roger Scatcherd's wife, thought also of her health,and strength, and active habits; and thus Mrs Scatcherd became thefoster-mother to young Frank Gresham.

  One other episode we must tell of past times. Previous to hisfather's death, Dr Thorne was in love. Nor had he altogether sighedand pleaded in vain; though it had not quite come to that, that theyoung lady's friends, or even the young lady herself, had actuallyaccepted his suit. At that time his name stood well in Barchester.His father was a prebendary; his cousins and his best friends werethe Thornes of Ullathorne, and the lady, who shall be nameless, wasnot thought to be injudicious in listening to the young doctor. Butwhen Henry Thorne went so far astray, when the old doctor died, whenthe young doctor quarrelled with Ullathorne, when the brother waskilled in a disgraceful quarrel, and it turned out that the physicianhad nothing but his profession and no settled locality in which toexercise it; then, indeed, the young lady's friends thought that shewas injudicious, and the young lady herself had not spirit enough, orlove enough, to be disobedient. In those stormy days of the trial shetold Dr Thorne that perhaps it would be wise that they should not seeeach other any more.

  Dr Thorne, so counselled, at such a moment,--so informed then, whenhe most required comfort from his love, at once swore loudly that heagreed with her. He rushed forth with a bursting heart, and said tohimself that the world was bad, all bad. He saw the lady no more;and, if I am rightly informed, never again made matrimonial overturesto any one.