The Last Chronicle of Barset (20 page)

‘If he is out on bail –' commenced the bishop.

‘Of course he will be out on bail.'

‘Then I think he should feel –'

‘Feel! such men never feel! What feeling can one expect from a convicted thief?'

‘Not convicted as yet, my dear,' said the bishop.

‘A convicted thief,' repeated Mrs Proudie; and she vociferated the words in such a tone that the bishop resolved that he would for the future let the word convicted pass without notice. After all she was only using the phrase in a peculiar sense given to it by herself.

‘It won't be proper, certainly, that he should do the services,' suggested the bishop.

‘Proper! It would be a scandal to the whole diocese. How could he
raise his head as he pronounced the eighth commandment? That must be at least prevented.'

The bishop, who was seated, fretted himself in his chair, moving about with little movements. He knew that there was a misery coming upon him; and, as far as he could see, it might become a great misery – a huge blistering sore upon him. When miseries came to him, as they did not infrequently, he would unconsciously endeavour to fathom them and weigh them, and then, with some gallantry, resolve to bear them, if he could find that their depth and weight were not too great for his powers of endurance. He would let the cold wind whistle by him, putting up the collar of his coat, and would encounter the winter weather without complaint. And he would be patient under the hot sun, knowing well that tranquillity is best for those who have to bear tropical heat. But when the storm threatened to knock him off his legs, when the earth beneath him became too hot for his poor tender feet – what could he do then? There had been with him such periods of misery, during which he had wailed inwardly and had confessed to himself that the wife of his bosom was too much for him. Now the storm seemed to be coming very roughly. It would be demanded of him that he should exercise certain episcopal authority which he knew did not belong to him. Now, episcopal authority admits of being stretched or contracted according to the character of the bishop who uses it. It is not always easy for a bishop himself to know what he may do, and what he may not do. He may certainly give advice to any clergyman in his diocese, and he may give it in such form that it will have in it something of authority. Such advice coming from a dominant bishop to a clergyman with a submissive mind, has in it very much of authority. But Bishop Proudie knew that Mr Crawley was not a clergyman with a submissive mind, and he feared that he himself, as regarded from Mr Crawley's point of view, was not a dominant bishop. And yet he could only act by advice. ‘I will write to him,' said the bishop, ‘and will explain to him that as he is circumstanced he should not appear in the reading-desk.'

‘Of course he must not appear in the reading-desk. That scandal must at any rate be inhibited.' Now the bishop did not at all like the
use of the word inhibited, understanding well that Mrs Proudie intended it to be understood as implying some episcopal command against which there should be no appeal – but he let it pass.

‘I will write to him, my dear, tonight.'

‘And Mr Thumble can go over with the letter the first thing in the morning.'

‘Will not the post be better?'

‘No, bishop; certainly not.'

‘He would get it sooner, if I write tonight, my dear.'

‘In either case he will get it tomorrow morning. An hour or two will not signify, and if Mr Thumble takes it himself we shall know how it is received. It will be well that Thumble should be there in person as he will want to look for lodgings in the parish.'

‘But, my dear –'

‘Well, bishop?'

‘About lodgings? I hardly think that Mr Thumble, if we decide that Mr Thumble shall undertake the duty –'

‘We have decided that Mr Thumble should undertake the duty. That is decided.'

‘But I do not think he should trouble himself to look for lodgings at Hogglestock. He can go over on the Sundays.'

‘And who is to do the parish work? Would you have that man, a convicted thief, to look after the schools, and visit the sick, and perhaps attend the dying?'

‘There will be a great difficulty; there will indeed,' said the bishop, becoming very unhappy, and feeling that he was driven by circumstances either to assert his own knowledge or teach his wife something of the law with reference to his position as a bishop. ‘Who is to pay Mr Thumble?'

‘The income of the parish must be sequestrated, and he must be paid out of that. Of course he must have the income while he does the work.'

‘But, my dear, I cannot sequestrate the man's income.'

‘I don't believe it, bishop. If the bishop cannot sequestrate, who can? But you are always timid in exercising the authority put into your hands for wise purposes. Not sequestrate the income of a man
who has been proved to be a thief! You leave that to us, and we will manage it.' The ‘us' here named comprised Mrs Proudie and the bishop's managing chaplain.

Then the bishop was left alone for an hour to write the letter which Mr Thumble was to carry over to Mr Crawley – and after a while he did write it. Before he commenced the task, however, he sat for some moments in his arm-chair close by the fire-side, asking himself whether it might not be possible for him to overcome his enemy in this matter. How would it go with him suppose he were to leave the letter unwritten, and send in a message by his chaplain to Mrs Proudie, saying that as Mr Crawley was out on bail, the parish might be left for the present without episcopal interference? She could not make him interfere. She could not force him to write the letter. So, at least, he said to himself. But as he said it, he almost thought that she could do these things. In the last thirty years, or more, she had ever contrived by some power latent in her to have her will effected. But what would happen if now, even now, he were to rebel? That he would personally become very uncomfortable, he was well aware, but he thought that he could bear that. The food would become bad – mere ashes between his teeth, the daily modicum of wine would lose its flavour, the chimneys would all smoke, the wind would come from the east, and the servants would not answer the bell. Little miseries of that kind would crowd upon him. He had arrived at a time of life in which such miseries make such men very miserable; but yet he thought that he could endure them. And what other wretchedness would come to him? She would scold him – frightfully, loudly, scornfully, and worse than all, continually. But of this he had so much habitually, that anything added might be borne also – if only he could be sure that the scoldings should go on in private, that the world of the palace should not be allowed to hear the revilings to which he would be subjected. But to be scolded publicly was the great evil which he dreaded beyond all evils. He was well aware that the palace would know his misfortune, that it was known, and freely discussed by all, from the examining chaplain down to the palace boot-boy – nay, that it was known to all the diocese; but yet he could smile upon those around him, and look as though he held his own
like other men – unless when open violence was displayed. But when that voice was heard aloud along the corridors of the palace, and when he was summoned imperiously by the woman, calling for the bishop, so that all Barchester heard it, and when he was compelled to creep forth from his study, at the sound of that summons, with distressed face, and shaking hands, and short hurrying steps – a being to be pitied even by a deacon – not venturing to assume an air of masterdom should he chance to meet a housemaid on the stairs – then, at such moments as that, he would feel that any submission was better than the misery which he suffered. And he well knew that should he now rebel, the whole house would be in a turmoil. He would be bishoped here, and bishoped there, before the eyes of all palatial men and women, till life would be a burden to him. So he got up from his seat over the fire, and went to his desk and wrote the letter. The letter was as follows:–

‘The Palace, Barchester – December, 186–

‘
REVEREND SIR
– (he left out the dear, because he knew that if he inserted it he would be compelled to write the letter over again).

‘I have heard today with the greatest trouble of spirit, that you have been taken before a bench of magistrates assembled at Silverbridge, having previously been arrested by the police in your parsonage house at Hogglestock, and that the magistrates of Silverbridge have committed you to take your trial at the next assizes at Barchester, on a charge of theft.

‘Far be it from me to prejudge the case. You will understand, reverend sir, that I express no opinion whatever as to your guilt or innocence in this matter. If you have been guilty, may the Lord give you grace to repent of your great sin and to make such amends as may come from immediate acknowledgment and confession. If you are innocent, may He protect you, and make your innocence to shine before all men. In either case may the Lord be with you and keep your feet from further stumbling.

‘But I write to you now as your bishop, to explain to you that circumstanced as you are, you cannot with decency perform the church services of your parish. I have that confidence in you that I doubt not you will agree with me in this, and will be grateful to me for relieving you so far from the immediate perplexities of your position. I have, therefore, appointed the Rev. Caleb
Thumble to perform the duties of incumbent of Hogglestock till such time as a jury shall have decided upon your case at Barchester; and in order that you may at once become acquainted with Mr Thumble, as will be most convenient that you should do, I will commission him to deliver this letter into your hand personally tomorrow, trusting that you will receive him with that brotherly spirit in which he is sent upon this painful mission.

‘Touching the remuneration to which Mr Thumble will become entitled for his temporary ministrations in the parish of Hogglestock, I do not at present lay down any strict injunction. He must, at any rate, be paid at a rate not less than that ordinarily afforded for a curate.

‘I will once again express my fervent hope that the Lord may bring you to see the true state of your own soul, and that He may fill you with the grace of repentance, so that the bitter waters of the present hour may not pass over your head and destroy you.

‘I have the honour to be,                    
‘Reverend sir,                
‘Your faithful servant in Christ,          
‘T.
BARNUM
.'
²

The bishop had hardly finished his letter when Mrs Proudie returned to the study, followed by the Rev. Caleb Thumble. Mr Thumble was a little man, about forty years of age, who had a wife and children living in Barchester, and who existed on such chance clerical crumbs as might fall from the table of the bishop's patronage. People in Barchester said that Mrs Thumble was a cousin of Mrs Proudie's; but as Mrs Proudie stoutly denied the connexion, it may be supposed that the people of Barchester were wrong. And, had Mr Thumble's wife in truth been a cousin, Mrs Proudie would surely have provided for him during the many years in which the diocese had been in her hands. No such provision had been made, and Mr Thumble, who had now been living in the diocese for three years, had received nothing else from the bishop than such chance employment as this which he was now to undertake at Hogglestock. He was a humble, mild-voiced man, when within the palace precincts, and had so far succeeded in making his way among his brethren in the cathedral city as to be employed not infrequently for absent minor
canons in chanting the week-day services, being remunerated for his work at the rate of about two shillings and sixpence a service.

The bishop handed his letter to his wife, observing in an off-hand kind of way that she might as well see what he said. ‘Of course I shall read it,' said Mrs Proudie. And the bishop winced visibly, because Mr Thumble was present. ‘Quite right,' said Mrs Proudie, ‘quite right to let him know that you knew that he had been arrested – actually arrested by the police.'

‘I thought it proper to mention that, because of the scandal,' said the bishop.

‘Oh, it has been terrible in the city,' said Mr Thumble.

‘Never mind, Mr Thumble,' said Mrs Proudie. ‘Never mind that at present.' Then she continued to read the letter. ‘What's this? Confession! That must come out, bishop. It will never do that you should recommend confession to anybody, under any circumstances.'

‘But, my dear –'

‘It must come out, bishop.'

‘My lord has not meant auricular confession,'
³
suggested Mr Thumble. Then Mrs Proudie turned round and looked at Mr Thumble, and Mr Thumble nearly sank amidst the tables and chairs. ‘I beg your pardon, Mrs Proudie,' he said. ‘I didn't mean to intrude.'

‘The word must come out, bishop,' repeated Mrs Proudie. ‘There should be no stumbling-blocks prepared for feet that are only too ready to fall.' And the word did come out.

‘Now, Mr Thumble,' said the lady, as she gave the letter to her satellite, ‘the bishop and I wish you to be at Hogglestock early tomorrow. You should be there not later than ten, certainly.' Then she paused until Mr Thumble had given the required promise. ‘And we request that you will be very firm in the mission which is confided to you, a mission which, as of course you see, is of a very delicate and important nature. You must be firm.'

‘I will endeavour,' said Mr Thumble.

‘The bishop and I both feel that this most unfortunate man must not under any circumstances be allowed to perform the services of the Church while this charge is hanging over him – a charge as to the truth of which no sane man can entertain a doubt.'

‘I'm afraid not, Mrs Proudie,' said Mr Thumble.

‘The bishop and I therefore are most anxious that you should make Mr Crawley understand at once – at once,' and the lady, as she spoke, lifted up her left hand with an eloquent violence which had its effect upon Mr Thumble, ‘that he is inhibited,' – the bishop shook in his shoes – ‘inhibited from the performance of any of his sacred duties.' Thereupon, Mr Thumble promised obedience and went his way.