You remember after Mrs. Proudie had given her guests a severe lesson in social ethics, the Signora asked in her hearing,—
“‘Is she always like this?’
“‘Yes—always—madam,’ said Mrs. Proudie, returning; ‘always the same—always equally adverse to impropriety of conduct of every description.’”
Mrs. Proudie was an excellent woman according to her light, yet Barchester would have been a happier place to live in had her light been less constant. A little flicker now and then, a momentary relief from the glare, would have been appreciated.
It is when the note of personal responsibility has been forced beyond my ability that I feel beneath my inherited Puritanism the stirring of a vague Papistry. Instead of joining another protesting society beginning with that feverish particle “anti,” how delightful it would be to go out and dicker with a well-conditioned pardoner
Streight comen fro the Court of Rome!
Wearied with diatribes and resolutions, one falls back upon the guileless bargainings of Simple Simon.
“Let me taste your ware,” say I.
“Show me first your penny,” says the pardoner.
There is a renewal of one’s youth in this immortal repartee.