Part 46 (1/2)
Their child was born, and for a few months all questions were postponed to that of its health and Cecily's. The infant gave a good deal of trouble, was anything but robust; the mother did not regain her strength speedily. The first three months of the new year were spent at Bordighera; then came three months of Paris; then the family returned to England (without Mrs. Lessingham), and established themselves in the house in Belsize Park.
The immediate effect of paternity upon Elgar was amusing. His self-importance visibly increased. He spoke with more gravity; whatever step he took was seriously considered; if he read a newspaper, it was with an air of sober reflection.
”This is the turning-point in his life,” Cecily said to her aunt. ”He seems to me several years older; don't you notice it? I am quite sure that as soon as things are in order again he will begin to work.”
And the prophecy seemed to find fulfilment. Not many days after their taking possession of the English home, Reuben declared a project that his mind had been forming. It was not, to be sure, thoroughly fas.h.i.+oned; its limits must necessarily be indeterminate until fixed by long and serious study; but what he had in view was to write a history of the English mind in its relation to Puritanism.
”I have a notion, Ciss, that this is the one thing into which I can throw all my energies. The one need of my intellectual life is to deal a savage blow at the influences which ruined all my early years. You can't look at the matter quite as I do; you don't know the fierce hatred with which I am moved when I look back. If I am to do literary work at all, it must be on some subject which deeply concerns me--me myself, as an individual. I feel sure that my bent isn't to fiction; I am not objective enough. But I enjoy the study of history, and I have a good deal of acuteness. If I'm not mistaken, I can make a brilliant book, a book that will excite hatred and make my name known.”
They were sitting in the library, late at night. As usual when he was stirred, Reuben paced up and down the room and gesticulated.
”Do you mean it to be a big book!” Cecily asked, after reflection.
”Not very big. I should have French models before me, rather than English.”
”It would take you a long time to prepare.”
”Two or three years, perhaps. But what does that matter? I shall work a good deal at the British Museum. It will oblige me to be away from you a good deal, but--”
”You mustn't trouble about that. I have my own work. If your mornings are regularly occupied, I shall be able to make flied plans of study there are so many things I want to work at.”
”Capital! It's high time we came to that. And then, you know, you might be able to give me substantial help--reading, making notes, and so on--if you cared to.”
Cecily smiled.
”Yes, if I care to.--But hasn't the subject been dealt with already?”
”Oh, of course, in all sorts of ways. But not in _my_ way. No man ever wrote about it with such energy of hatred as I shall bring to the task.”
Cecily was musing.
”It won't be a history in the ordinary sense,” she said. ”You will make no pretence of historic calm and impartiality.”
”Not I, indeed! My book shall be cited as a splendid example of _odium ant.i.theologic.u.m_. There are pa.s.sages of eloquence rolling in my mind!
And this is just the time for such a work. Throughout intellectual England, Puritanism is dead; but we know how vigorously it survives among the half-educated cla.s.ses. My book shall declare the emanc.i.p.ation of all the better minds and be a help to those who are struggling upwards. It will be a demand, also, for a new literature, free from the absurd restraints that Puritanism has put upon us. All the younger writers will rally about me. It shall be a 'movement.' The name of my book shall be a watchword.”
They talked about it till one in the morning.
For several weeks Elgar was constantly at the Museum. He read prodigiously; he brought home a great quant.i.ty of notes; every night Cecily and he talked over his acquisitions, and excited themselves. But the weather grew oppressively hot, and it was plain that they could not carry out the project of remaining in town all through the autumn.
Already Reuben was languis.h.i.+ng in his zeal, when little Clarence had a sudden and alarming illness. As soon as possible, all went off to the seaside.
Since his work had begun, Reuben's interest in the child had fallen off. Its ailments were soon little more than an annoyance to him; Cecily perceived this, and seldom spoke on the subject. The fact of the sudden illness affording an opportunity for rest led him to express more solicitude than he really felt, but when the child got back into its normal state, Reuben was more plainly indifferent to it than ever.
He spoke impatiently if the mother's cares occupied her when he wished for her society.
”A baby isn't a rational creature,” he said once. ”When he is old enough to begin to be educated, that will be a different thing. At present he is only a burden. Perhaps you think me an unfatherly brute?”
”No; I can understand you quite well. I should very often be impatient myself if I had no servants to help me.”
”What a horrible thought! Suppose, Ciss, we all of a sudden lost everything, and we had to go and live in a garret, and I had to get work as a clerk at five-and-twenty s.h.i.+llings a week. How soon should we hate the sight of each other, and the sound of each other's voices?”