she has in charge, and lowers into a failure the very thing that it is most important to raise into success,—such success not being automatic. Mrs. Nickleby, Mrs. Wilfer, Mrs. Finching, like Jane Austen's Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Palmer, and Susan Ferrier's Lady Juliana Douglass, are comparatively harmless, and are indulged accordingly. But an incapacity that may be picturesque in easy circumstances deepens into a grave misdemeanor when joined to a small income. Mrs. Micawber, Mrs. Pocket, Mrs. Pardiggle, and especially Mrs. Jellyby are domestic pests, at whom we are more exasperated than amused.
Aside from Dickens, the only artist much interested in this stratum of human nature is the one who has given us Mrs. Tulliver and Mrs. Vincy and her daughter, but they are not real sources of trouble, except Rosamund, and her failure is more spiritual than material. Mrs. Tulliver, a plaintive, hopelessly literal soul, is distressed over her husband's metaphoric speech about "a good wagoner with a mole on his face." She resents feebly the dogmatizing of the majestic Mrs. Glegg, but would never go "to the length of quarreling with her any more than a water-fowl that puts out its leg in a deprecating manner can be said to quarrel with a boy who throws stones." Under another metaphor she is an amiable fish, which, "after running her head against the same resisting medium for thirteen years, would go at it again to-day with undiluted alacrity."[1]
Out of her saddening experience Rosamund did emerge somewhat wiser, but with none of the higher wisdom which constitutes character.
"She simply continued to be mild in her temper, inflexible in
her judgment, disposed to admonish her husband, and also
to frustrate him by stratagem."[2]
