The Last Chronicle of Barset (23 page)

Mr Thumble listened to him patiently, standing with one foot a little advance of the other, with one hand folded over the other, with his head rather on one side, and with his eyes fixed on the corner where the wall and ceiling joined each other. He had been told to be firm, and he was considering how he might best display firmness. He thought that he remembered some story of two parsons fighting for one pulpit, and he thought also that he should not himself like to incur the scandal of such a proceeding in the diocese. As to the law in the matter he knew nothing himself; but he presumed that a bishop would probably know the law better than a perpetual curate. That Mrs Proudie was intemperate and imperious, he was aware. Had the message come from her alone, he might have felt that even for her sake he had better give way. But as the despotic arrogance of the lady had been in this case backed by the timid presence and hesitating words of her lord, Mr Thumble thought that he must have the law on his side. ‘I think you will find, Mr Crawley,' said he, ‘that the bishop's inhibition is strictly legal.' He had picked up the powerful word from Mrs Proudie and flattered himself that it might be of use to him in carrying his purpose.

‘It is illegal,' said Mr Crawley, speaking somewhat louder than before, ‘and will be absolutely futile. As you pleaded to me that you yourself and your own personal convenience were concerned in this matter, I have made known my intentions to you, which otherwise I should have made known only to the bishop. If you please, we will discuss the subject no further.'

‘Am I to understand, Mr Crawley, that you refuse to obey the bishop?'

‘The bishop has written to me, sir; and I will make known my intention to the bishop by a written answer. As you have been the bearer of the bishop's letter to me, I am bound to ask you whether I
shall be indebted to you for carrying back my reply, or whether I shall send it by course of post?' Mr Thumble considered for a moment, and then made up his mind that he had better wait, and carry back the epistle. This was Friday, and the letter could not be delivered by post till the Saturday morning. Mrs Proudie might be angry with him if he should be the cause of loss of time. He did not, however, at all like waiting, having perceived that Mr Crawley, though with language courteously worded, had spoken of him as a mere messenger.

‘I think,' he said, ‘that I may, perhaps, best further the object which we must all have in view, that namely of providing properly for the Sunday services of the church of Hogglestock, by taking your reply personally to the bishop.'

‘That provision is my care and need trouble no one else,' said Mr Crawley, in a loud voice. Then, before seating himself at his old desk, he stood awhile, pondering, with his back turned to his visitor. ‘I have to ask your pardon, sir,' said he, looking round for a moment, ‘because, by reason of the extreme poverty of this house, my wife is unable to offer to you that hospitality which is especially due from one clergyman to another.'

‘Oh, don't mention it,' said Mr Thumble.

‘If you will allow me, sir, I would prefer that it should be mentioned.' Then he seated himself at his desk, and commenced his letter.

Mr Thumble felt himself to be awkwardly placed. Had there been no third person in the room he could have sat down in Mr Crawley's arm-chair, and waited patiently till the letter should be finished. But Mrs Crawley was there, and of course he was bound to speak to her. In what strain could he do so? Even he, little as he was given to indulge in sentiment, had been touched by the man's appeal to his own poverty, and he felt, moreover, that Mrs Crawley must have been deeply moved by her husband's position with reference to the bishop's order. It was quite out of the question that he should speak of that, as Mr Crawley would, he was well aware, immediately turn upon him. At last he thought of a subject, and spoke with a voice intended to be pleasant. ‘That was the school-house I passed, probably, just as I came here?' Mrs Crawley told him that it was the school-house. ‘Ah, yes, I
thought so. Have you a certified teacher here?' Mrs Crawley explained that no Government aid
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had ever reached Hogglestock. Besides themselves, they had only a young woman whom they themselves had instructed. ‘Ah, that is a pity,' said Mr Thumble.

‘I – I am the certified teacher,' said Mr Crawley, turning round upon him from his chair.

‘Oh, ah, yes,' said Mr Thumble; and after that Mr Thumble asked no more questions about the Hogglestock school. Soon afterwards Mrs Crawley left the room, seeing the difficulty under which Mr Thumble was labouring, and feeling sure that her presence would not now be necessary. Mr Crawley's letter was written quickly, though every now and then he would sit for a moment with his pen poised in the air, searching his memory for a word. But the words came to him easily, and before an hour was over he had handed his letter to Mr Thumble. The letter was as follows: –

‘The Parsonage, Hogglestock, December, 186–

‘
RIGHT REVEREND LORD,

‘I have received the letter of yesterday's date which your lordship has done me the honour of sending to me by the hands of the Reverend Mr Thumble, and I avail myself of that gentleman's kindness to return to you an answer by the same means, moved thus to use his patience chiefly by the consideration that in this way my reply to your lordship's injunctions may be in your hands with less delay than would attend the regular course of the mail-post.

‘It is with deep regret that I feel myself constrained to inform your lordship that I cannot obey the command which you have laid upon me with reference to the services of my church in this parish. I cannot permit Mr Thumble, or any other delegate from your lordship, to usurp my place in my pulpit. I would not have you think, if I can possibly dispel such thoughts from your mind, that I disregard your high office, or that I am deficient in that respectful obedience to the bishop set over me, which is due to the authority of the Crown as the head of the church in these realms; but in this, as in all questions of obedience, he who is required to obey must examine the extent of the authority exercised by him who demands obedience. Your lordship might possibly call upon me, using your voice as bishop of the diocese, to
abandon altogether the freehold rights which are now mine in this perpetual curacy. The judge of assize, before whom I shall soon stand for my trial, might command me to retire to prison without a verdict given by the jury. The magistrates who committed me so lately as yesterday, upon whose decision in that respect your lordship has taken action against me so quickly, might have equally strained their authority. But in no case, in this land, is he that is subject bound to obey, further than where the law gives authority and exacts obedience. It is not in the power of the Crown itself to inhibit me from the performance of my ordinary duties in this parish by any such missive as that sent to me by your lordship. If your lordship think it right to stop my mouth as a clergyman in your diocese, you must proceed to do so in an ecclesiastical court in accordance with the laws, and will succeed in your object, or fail, in accordance with the evidences as to ministerial fitness or unfitness, which may be produced respecting me before the proper tribunal.

‘I will allow that much attention is due from a clergyman to pastoral advice given to him by his bishop. On that head I must first express to your lordship my full understanding that your letter has not been intended to convey advice, but an order – an inhibition, as your messenger, the Reverend Mr Thumble, has expressed it. There might be a case certainly in which I should submit myself to counsel, though I should resist command. No counsel, however, has been given – except indeed that I should receive your messenger in a proper spirit, which I hope I have done. No other advice has been given me, and therefore there is now no such case as that I have imagined. But in this matter, my lord, I could not have accepted advice from living man, no, not though the hands of the apostles themselves had made him bishop who tendered it to me, and had set him over me for my guidance. I am in a terrible strait. Trouble, and sorrow, and danger are upon me and mine. It may well be, as your lordship says, that the bitter waters of the present hour may pass over my head and destroy me. I thank your lordship for telling me whither I am to look for assistance. Truly I know not whether there is any to be found for me on earth. But the deeper my troubles, the greater my sorrow, the more pressing my danger, the stronger is my need that I should carry myself in these days with that outward respect of self which will teach those around me to know that, let who will condemn me, I have not condemned myself. Were I to abandon my pulpit, unless forced to
do so by legal means, I should in doing so be putting a plea of guilty against myself upon the record. This, my lord, I will not do.

‘I have the honour to be, my lord,            
‘Your lordship's most obedient servant,        
‘
JOSIAH CRAWLEY.
'

When he had finished writing his letter he read it over slowly, and then handed it to Mr Thumble. The act of writing, and the current of the thoughts through his brain, and the feeling that in every word written he was getting the better of the bishop – all this joined to a certain manly delight in warfare against authority, lighted up the man's face and gave to his eyes an expression which had been long wanting to them. His wife at that moment came into the room and he looked at her with an air of triumph as he handed the letter to Mr Thumble. ‘If you will give that to his lordship with an assurance of my duty to his lordship in all things proper, I will thank you kindly, craving your pardon for the great delay to which you have been subjected.'

‘As to the delay, that is nothing,' said Mr Thumble.

‘It has been much; but you as a clergyman will feel that it has been incumbent on me to speak my mind fully.'

‘Oh, yes; of course.' Mr Crawley was standing up, as also was Mrs Crawley. It was evident to Mr Thumble that they both expected that he should go. But he had been specially enjoined to be firm, and he doubted whether hitherto he had been firm enough. As far as this morning's work had as yet gone, it seemed to him that Mr Crawley had had the play to himself, and that he, Mr Thumble, had not had his innings. He, from the palace, had been, as it were, cowed by this man, who had been forced to plead his own poverty. It was certainly incumbent upon him, before he went, to speak up, not only for the bishop, but for himself also. ‘Mr Crawley,' he said, ‘hitherto I have listened to you patiently.'

‘Nay,' said Mr Crawley, smiling, ‘you have indeed been patient, and I thank you; but my words have been written, not spoken.'

‘You have told me that you intend to disobey the bishop's inhibition.'

‘I have told the bishop so certainly.'

‘May I ask you now to listen to me for a few minutes?'

Mr Crawley, still smiling, still having in his eyes the unwonted triumph which had lighted them up, paused a moment, and then answered him. ‘Reverend sir, you must excuse me if I say no – not on this subject.'

‘You will not let me speak?'

‘No; not on this matter, which is very private to me. What should you think if I went into your house and inquired of you as to those things which were particularly near to you?'

‘But the bishop sent me.'

‘Though ten bishops had sent me – a council of archbishops if you will!' Mr Thumble started back, appalled at the energy of the words used to him. ‘Shall a man have nothing of his own – no sorrow in his heart, no care in his family, no thought in his breast so private and special to him, but that, if he happen to be a clergyman, the bishop may touch it with his thumb?'

‘I am not the bishop's thumb,' said Mr Thumble, drawing himself up.

‘I intended not to hint anything personally objectionable to yourself. I will regard you as one of the angels of the church.' Mr Thumble, when he heard this, began to be sure that Mr Crawley was mad; he knew of no angels that could ride about the Barsetshire lanes on grey ponies. ‘And as such I will respect you; but I cannot discuss with you the matter of the bishop's message.'

‘Oh, very well. I will tell his lordship.'

‘I will pray you to do so.'

‘And his lordship, should he so decide, will arm me with such power on my next coming as will enable me to carry out his lordship's wishes.'

‘His lordship will abide by the law, as will you also.' In speaking these last words he stood with the door in his hand, and Mr Thumble, not knowing how to increase or even to maintain his firmness, thought it best to pass out, and mount his grey pony and ride away.

‘The poor man thought that you were laughing at him when you called him an angel of the church,' said Mrs Crawley, coming up to him and smiling on him.

‘Had I told him he was simply a messenger, he would have taken it worse – poor fool! When they have rid themselves of me they may put him here, in my church; but not yet – not yet. Where is Jane? Tell her that I am ready to commence “The Seven against Thebes”
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with her.' Then Jane was immediately sent for out of the school, and ‘The Seven against Thebes' was commenced with great energy. Often during the next hour and a half Mrs Crawley from the kitchen would hear him reading out, or rather saying by rote, with sonorous, rolling voice, great passages from some chorus, and she was very thankful to the bishop who had sent over to them a message and a messenger which had been so salutary in their effect upon her husband. ‘In truth an angel of the church,' she said to herself as she chopped up the onions for the mutton-broth; and ever afterwards she regarded Mr Thumble as an ‘angel.'

Grace Crawley passed through Silverbridge on her way to Allington on the Monday, and on the Tuesday morning Major Grantly received a very short note from Miss Prettyman, telling him that she had done so. ‘Dear Sir – I think you will be very glad to learn that our friend Miss Crawley went from us yesterday on a visit to her friend, Miss Dale, at Allington. – Yours truly, Annabella Prettyman.' The note said no more than that. Major Grantly was glad to get it, obtaining from it that satisfaction which a man always feels when he is presumed to be concerned in the affairs of the lady with whom he is in love. And he regarded Miss Prettyman with favourable eyes – as a discreet and friendly woman. Nevertheless, he was not altogether happy. The very fact that Miss Prettyman should write to him on such a subject made him feel that he was bound to Grace Crawley. He knew enough of himself to be sure that he could not give her up without making
himself miserable. And yet, as regarded her father, things were going from bad to worse. Everybody now said that the evidence was so strong against Mr Crawley as to leave hardly a doubt of his guilt. Even the ladies in Silverbridge were beginning to give up his cause, acknowledging that the money could not have come rightfully into his hands, and excusing him on the plea of partial insanity. ‘He has picked it up and put it by for months, and then thought that it was his own.' The ladies of Silverbridge could find nothing better to say for him than that; and when young Mr Walker remarked that such little mistakes were the customary causes of men being taken to prison, the ladies of Silverbridge did not know how to answer him. It had come to be their opinion that Mr Crawley was affected with a partial lunacy, which ought to be forgiven in one to whom the world had been so cruel; and when young Mr Walker endeavoured to explain to them that a man must be sane altogether or mad altogether, and that Mr Crawley must, if sane, be locked up as a thief, and if mad, locked up as a madman, they sighed, and were convinced that until the world should have been improved by a new infusion of romance, and a stronger feeling of poetic justice, Mr John Walker was right.