by Fergus Hume
CHAPTER X
MORNING SERVICE IN THE MINSTER
The cathedral is the glory of Beorminster, of the county, and, indeed,of all England, since no churches surpass it in size and splendour, savethe minsters of York and Canterbury. Founded and endowed by Henry II. in1184 for the glory of God, it is dedicated to the blessed Saint Wulf ofOsserton, a holy hermit of Saxon times, who was killed by the heathenDanes. Bishop Gandolf designed the building in the picturesque style ofAnglo-Norman architecture; and as the original plans have been closelyadhered to by successive prelates, the vast fabric is the finest exampleextant of the Norman superiority in architectural science. It was begunby Gandolf in 1185, and finished at the beginning of the presentcentury; therefore, as it took six hundred years in building, everyportion of it is executed in the most perfect manner. It is renownedboth for its beauty and sanctity, and forms one of the most splendidmemorials of architectural art and earnest faith to be found even inEngland, that land of fine churches.
The great central tower rises to the height of two hundred feet insquare massiveness, and from this point springs a slender and gracefulspire to another hundred feet, so that next to Salisbury, the greatarchetype of this special class of ecclesiastical architecture, it isthe tallest spire in England. Two square towers, richly ornamented,embellish the western front, and beneath the great window over thecentral entrance is a series of canopied arches. The church is cruciformin shape, and is built of Portland stone, the whole being richlyornamented with pinnacles, buttresses, crocketted spires and elaboratetracery. Statues of saints, kings, queens and bishops are placed inniches along the northern and southern fronts, and the western frontitself is sculptured with scenes from Holy Scripture in the quaintgrotesque style of mediaeval art. No ivy is permitted to conceal thebeauties of the building; and elevated in the clear air, far above thesmoke of the town, it looks as fresh and white and clean cut as thoughit had been erected only within the last few years. Spared by HenryVIII. and the iconoclastic rage of the Puritans, Time alone has dealtwith it; and Time has mellowed the whole to a pale amber hue which addsgreatly to the beauty of the mighty fane. Beorminster Cathedral is apoem in stone.
Within, the nave and transepts are lofty and imposing, with innumerablearches springing from massive marble pillars. The rood screen is ornate,with figures of saints and patriarchs; the pavement is diversified withbrasses and carved marble slabs, and several Crusaders' tombs adorn theside chapels. The many windows are mostly of stained glass, since thesewere not destroyed by the Puritans; and when the sun shines on asummer's day the twilight interior is dyed with rich hues and quaintpatterns. As the Bishop of Beorminster is a High Churchman the altar ismagnificently decorated, and during service, what with the light andcolour and brilliancy, the vast building seems--unlike the dead aspectof many of its kind--to be filled with life and movement and livingfaith. A Romanist might well imagine that he was attending one of themagnificent and imposing services of his own faith, save that theuttered words are spoken in the mother tongue.
As became a city whose whole existence depended upon the central shrine,the services at the cathedral were invariably well attended. Thepreaching attracted some, the fine music many, and the imposing ritualintroduced by Bishop Pendle went a great way towards bringingworshippers to the altar. A cold, frigid, undecorated service, appealingmore to the intellect than the senses, would not have drawn together sovast and attentive a congregation; but the warmth and colour and musicalfervour of the new ritual lured the most careless within the walls ofthe sacred building. Bishop Pendle was right in his estimate of humannature; for when the senses are enthralled by colour and sound, and vastspaces, and symbolic decorations the reverential feeling thusengendered prepares the mind for the reception of the sublime truths ofChristianity. A pure faith and a gorgeous ritual are not so incompatibleas many people think. God should be worshipped with pomp and splendour;we should bring to His service all that we can invent in the way of artand beauty. If God has prepared for those who believe the splendidhabitation of the New Jerusalem with its gates of pearl and its streetsof gold, why should we, His creatures, stint our gifts in His service,and debar the beautiful things, which He inspires us to create withbrain and hand, from use in His holy temple? 'Out of the fulness of theheart the mouth speaketh,' and out of the fulness of the hand the givershould give. 'Date et dabitur!' The great Luther was right in applyingthis saying to the church.
One of the congregation at St Wulf's on this particular morning wasCaptain George Pendle, and he came less for the service than in thehope--after the manner of those in love--of meeting with Mab Arden.During the reading of the lessons his eyes were roving here and there insearch of that beloved face, but much to his dismay he could not see it.Finally, on a chair near a pillar, he caught sight of Miss Whichello inher poke bonnet and black silk cloak, but she was alone, and there wereno bright eyes beside her to send a glance in the direction of George.Having ascertained beyond all doubt that Mab was not in the church, andbelieving that she was unwell after the shock of Jentham's attack on theprevious night, George withdrew his attention from the congregation, andsettled himself to listen attentively to the anthem. It was worthy ofthe cathedral, and higher praise cannot be given. 'I have blotted out asa thick cloud,' sang the boy soloist in a clear sweet treble, 'I haveblotted out thy transgressions, and as a cloud thy sins.' Then came thetriumphant cry of the choir, borne on the rich waves of sound rollingfrom the organ, 'Return unto me, for I have redeemed thee.' The loftyroof reverberated with the melodious thunder, and the silvery altoespierced through the great volume of sound like arrows of song. 'Return!Return! Return!' called the choristers louder and higher and clearer,and ended, with a magnificent burst of harmony, with the sublimeproclamation, 'The Lord hath redeemed Jacob, and glorified himself inIsrael!' When the white-robed singers resumed their seats, the organstill continued to peal forth triumphant notes, which died away ingentle murmurs. It was like the passing by of a tempest; the stilling ofthe ocean after a storm.
Mr Cargrim preached the sermon, and, with a vivid recollection of hispresent enterprise, waxed eloquent on the ominous text, 'Be sure thy sinwill find thee out.' His belief that the bishop was guilty of somecrime, for the concealment of which he intended to bribe Jentham, hadbeen strengthened by an examination on that very morning of thecheque-book. Dr Pendle had departed on horseback for Southberry after anearly breakfast, and after hurriedly despatching his own, Cargrim hadhastened to the library. Here, as he expected, he found the cheque-bookcarelessly left in an unlocked drawer of the desk, and on looking overit he found that one of the butts had been torn out. The previous buttbore a date immediately preceding that of Dr Pendle's departure forLondon, so Cargrim had little difficulty in concluding that the bishophad drawn the next cheque in London, and had torn out the butt to whichit had been attached. This showed, as the chaplain very truly thought,that Dr Pendle was desirous of concealing not only the amount of thecheque--since he had kept no note of the sum on the butt--but of hidingthe fact that the cheque had been drawn at all. This conduct, coupledwith the fact of Jentham's allusion to Tom Tiddler's ground, and hissnatch of extempore song, confirmed Cargrim in his suspicions thatPendle had visited London for the purpose of drawing out a large sum ofmoney, and intended to pay the same over to Jentham that very night onSouthberry Heath. With this in his mind it was no wonder that Cargrimpreached a stirring sermon. He repeated his warning text over and overagain; he illustrated it in the most brilliant fashion; and his appealsto those who had secret sins, to confess them at once, were quiteheartrending in their pathos. As most of his congregation had their ownlittle peccadilloes to worry over, Mr Cargrim's sermon made them quiteuneasy, and created a decided sensation, much to his own gratification.If Bishop Pendle had only been seated on his throne to hear thatsermon, Cargrim would have been thoroughly satisfied. But, alas! thebishop--worthy man--was confirming innocent sinners at Southberry, andthus lost any chance he might have had of profiting by his chaplain'seloquence.
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br /> However, the congregation could not be supposed to know the secretsource of the chaplain's eloquence, and his withering denunciations weresupposed to arise from a consciousness of his own pure and open heart.The female admirers of Cargrim particularly dwelt in after-church gossipon this presumed cause of the excellent sermon they had heard, and whenthe preacher appeared he was congratulated on all sides. Miss Tancredfor once forgot her purse story, and absolutely squeaked, in the highestof keys, in her efforts to make the young man understand the amount ofpleasure he had given her. Even Mrs Pansey was pleased to express herapproval of so well chosen a text, and looked significantly at severalof her friends as she remarked that she hoped they would take itswarning to heart.
George came upon his father's chaplain, grinning like a heathen idol, inthe midst of a tempestuous ocean of petticoats, and the bland way inwhich he sniffed up the incense of praise showed how grateful suchhomage was to his vain nature. At that moment he saw himself a futurebishop, and that at no very great distance of time. Indeed, had theelection of such a prelate been in the hands of his admirers, he wouldhave been elevated that very moment to the nearest vacant episcopalianthrone. Captain Pendle looked on contemptuously at this priest-worship.
'The sneaking cad!' he thought, sneering at the excellent Cargrim. 'Idare say he thinks he is the greatest man in Beorminster just now. Helooks as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.'
There was no love lost between the chaplain and the captain, for onseveral occasions the latter had found Cargrim a slippery customer, andlax in his notions of honour; while the curate, knowing that he had notbeen clever enough to hoodwink George, hated him with all the fervourand malice of his petty soul. However, he hoped soon to have the powerto wound Captain Pendle through his father, so he could afford to smileblandly in response to the young soldier's contemptuous look. And hesmiled more than ever when brisk Miss Whichello, with her small face,ruddy as a winter apple, marched up and joined in the congratulations.
'In future I shall call you Boanerges, Mr Cargrim,' she cried, herbright little eyes dancing. 'You quite frightened me. I looked into mymind to see what sins I had committed.'
'And found none, I'm sure,' said the courtly chaplain.
'You would have found one if you had looked long enough,' growled MrsPansey, who hated the old maid as a rival practitioner amongst the poor,'and that is, you did not bring your niece to hear the sermon. I don'tcall such carelessness Christianity.'
'Don't look at my sins through a microscope, Mrs Pansey. I did not bringMab because she is not well.'
'Oh, really, dear Miss Winchello,' chimed in Daisy Norsham. 'Why, Ithought that your sweet niece looked the very picture of health. Allthose strong, tall women do; not like poor little me.'
'You need dieting,' retorted Miss Whichello, with a disparaging glance.'Your face is pale and pasty; if it isn't powder, it's bad digestion.'
'Miss Whichello!' cried the outraged spinster.
'I'm an old woman, my dear, and you must allow me to speak my mind. I'msure Mrs Pansey always does.'
'You need not be so very unpleasant! No, really!'
'The truth is always unpleasant,' said Mrs Pansey, who could not forbeara thrust even at her own guest, 'but Miss Whichello doesn't often hearit,' with a dig at her rival. 'Come away, Daisy. Mr Cargrim, next timeyou preach take for your text, "The tongue is a two-edged sword."'
'Do, Mr Cargrim,' cried Miss Whichello, darting an angry glance at MrsPansey, 'and illustrate it with the one to whom it particularlyapplies.'
'Ladies! ladies!' remonstrated Cargrim, while both combatants ruffledtheir plumes like two fighting cocks, and the more timid of thespectators scuttled out of the way. How the situation would have endedit is impossible to say, as the two ladies were equally matched, butGeorge saved it by advancing to greet Miss Whichello. When the littlewoman saw him, she darted forward and shook his hand with unfeignedwarmth.
'My dear Captain Pendle,' she cried, 'I am so glad to see you; and thankyou for your noble conduct of last night.'
'Why, Miss Whichello, it was nothing,' murmured the modest hero.
'Indeed, I must say it was very valiant,' said Cargrim, graciously. 'Doyou know, ladies, that Miss Arden was attacked last night by a tramp andCaptain Pendle knocked him down?'
'Oh, really! how very sweet!' cried Daisy, casting an admiring look onGeorge's handsome face, which appealed to her appreciation of manlybeauty.
'What was Miss Arden doing to place herself in the position of beingattacked by a tramp?' asked Mrs Pansey, in a hard voice. 'This must belooked into.'
'Thank you, Mrs Pansey, I have looked into it myself,' said MissWhichello. 'Captain Pendle, come home with me to luncheon and tell meall about it; Mr Cargrim, you come also.'
Both gentlemen bowed and accepted, the former because he wished to seeMab, the latter because he knew that Captain Pendle did not want him tocome. As Miss Whichello moved off with her two guests, Mrs Panseyexclaimed in a loud voice,--
'Poor young men! Luncheon indeed! They will be starved. I know for afact that she weighs out the food in scales.' Then, having had the lastword, she went home in triumph.
