MIDDLEMARCH (Completed)

Chapter 30

"Qui veut delasser hors de propos, lasse."--PASCAL.

Mr. Casaubon had no second attack of equal severity with the first,

and in a few days began to recover his usual condition.

But Lydgate seemed to think the case worth a great deal of attention.

He not only used his stethoscope (which had not become a matter

of course in practice at that time), but sat quietly by his patient

and watched him. To Mr. Casaubon's questions about himself,

he replied that the source of the illness was the common error

of intellectual men--a too eager and monotonous application:

the remedy was, to be satisfied with moderate work, and to seek

variety of relaxation. Mr. Brooke, who sat by on one occasion,

suggested that Mr. Casaubon should go fishing, as Cadwallader did,

and have a turning-room, make toys, table-legs, and that kind

of thing.

"In short, you recommend me to anticipate the arrival of my

second childhood," said poor Mr. Casaubon, with some bitterness.

"These things," he added, looking at Lydgate, "would be to me such

relaxation as tow-picking is to prisoners in a house of correction."

"I confess," said Lydgate, smiling, "amusement is rather

an unsatisfactory prescription. It is something like telling

people to keep up their spirits. Perhaps I had better say,

that you must submit to be mildly bored rather than to go on working."

"Yes, yes," said Mr. Brooke. "Get Dorothea to play backgammon with

you in the evenings. And shuttlecock, now--I don't know a finer game

than shuttlecock for the daytime. I remember it all the fashion.

To be sure, your eyes might not stand that, Casaubon. But you

must unbend, you know. Why, you might take to some light study:

conchology, now: it always think that must be a light study.

Or get Dorothea to read you light things, Smollett--'Roderick Random,'

'Humphrey Clinker:' they are a little broad, but she may read

anything now she's married, you know. I remember they made me

laugh uncommonly--there's a droll bit about a postilion's breeches.

We have no such humor now. I have gone through all these things,

but they might be rather new to you."

"As new as eating thistles," would have been an answer to represent

Mr. Casaubon's feelings. But he only bowed resignedly, with due

respect to his wife's uncle, and observed that doubtless the works

he mentioned had "served as a resource to a certain order of minds."

"You see," said the able magistrate to Lydgate, when they were

outside the door, "Casaubon has been a little narrow: it leaves him