CHAPTER XVIII.
THE BISHOP OF BARCHESTER IS CRUSHED.
Who inquires why it is that a little greased flour rubbed in amongthe hair on a footman's head,--just one dab here and anotherthere,--gives such a tone of high life to the family? And seeingthat the thing is so easily done, why do not more people attempt it?The tax on hair-powder is but thirteen shillings a year. It may,indeed, be that the slightest dab in the world justifies the wearerin demanding hot meat three times a day, and wine at any rate onSundays. I think, however, that a bishop's wife may enjoy theprivilege without such heavy attendant expense; otherwise the man whoopened the bishop's door to Mr. Crawley would hardly have been soornamented.
The man asked for a card. "My name is Mr. Crawley," said our friend."The bishop has desired me to come to him at this hour. Will you bepleased to tell him that I am here." The man again asked for a card."I am not bound to carry with me my name printed on a ticket," saidMr. Crawley. "If you cannot remember it, give me pen and paper, and Iwill write it." The servant, somewhat awed by the stranger's manner,brought the pen and paper, and Mr. Crawley wrote his name:--
THE REV. JOSIAH CRAWLEY, M.A., _Perpetual Curate of Hogglestock._
He was then ushered into a waiting-room, but, to his disappointment,was not kept there waiting long. Within three minutes he was usheredinto the bishop's study, and into the presence of the two greatluminaries of the diocese. He was at first somewhat disconcerted byfinding Mrs. Proudie in the room. In the imaginary conversation withthe bishop which he had been preparing on the road, he had conceivedthat the bishop would be attended by a chaplain, and he had suitedhis words to the joint discomfiture of the bishop and of the lowerclergyman;--but now the line of his battle must be altered. Thiswas no doubt an injury, but he trusted to his courage and readinessto enable him to surmount it. He had left his hat behind him inthe waiting-room, but he kept his old short cloak still upon hisshoulders; and when he entered the bishop's room his hands and armswere hid beneath it. There was something lowly in this constrainedgait. It showed at least that he had no idea of being asked toshake hands with the August persons he might meet. And his head wassomewhat bowed, though his great, bald, broad forehead showed itselfso prominent, that neither the bishop nor Mrs. Proudie could drop itfrom their sight during the whole interview. He was a man who whenseen could hardly be forgotten. The deep angry remonstrant eyes, theshaggy eyebrows, telling tales of frequent anger,--of anger frequentbut generally silent,--the repressed indignation of the habitualfrown, the long nose and large powerful mouth, the deep furrowson the cheek, and the general look of thought and suffering, allcombined to make the appearance of the man remarkable, and todescribe to the beholders at once his true character. No one ever onseeing Mr. Crawley took him to be a happy man, or a weak man, or anignorant man, or a wise man.
"You are very punctual, Mr. Crawley," said the bishop. Mr. Crawleysimply bowed his head, still keeping his hands beneath his cloak."Will you not take a chair nearer to the fire?" Mr. Crawley had notseated himself, but had placed himself in front of a chair at theextreme end of the room,--resolved that he would not use it unless hewere duly asked.
"Thank you, my lord," he said, "I am warm with walking, and, if youplease, will avoid the fire."
"You have not walked, Mr. Crawley?"
"Yes, my lord. I have been walking."
"Not from Hogglestock!"
Now this was a matter which Mr. Crawley certainly did not mean todiscuss with the bishop. It might be well for the bishop to demandhis presence in the palace, but it could be no part of the bishop'sduty to inquire how he got there. "That, my lord, is a matter of nomoment," said he. "I am glad at any rate that I have been enabled toobey your lordship's order in coming hither on this morning."
Hitherto Mrs. Proudie had not said a word. She stood back in theroom, near the fire,--more backward a good deal than she wasaccustomed to do when clergymen made their ordinary visits. Onsuch occasions she would come forward and shake hands with themgraciously,--graciously even, if proudly; but she had felt that shemust do nothing of that kind now; there must be no shaking hands witha man who had stolen a cheque for twenty pounds! It might probably benecessary to keep Mr. Crawley at a distance, and therefore she hadremained in the background. But Mr. Crawley seemed to be disposed tokeep himself in the background, and therefore she could speak. "Ihope your wife and children are well, Mr. Crawley," she said.
"Thank you, madam, my children are well, and Mrs. Crawley suffers nospecial ailment at present."
"That is much to be thankful for, Mr. Crawley." Whether he were orwere not thankful for such mercies as these was no business of thebishop or of the bishop's wife. That was between him and his God. Sohe would not even bow to this civility, but sat with his head erect,and with a great frown on his heavy brow.
Then the bishop rose from his chair to speak, intending to take upa position on the rug. But as he did so Mr. Crawley, who had seatedhimself on an intimation that he was expected to sit down, rose also,and the bishop found that he would thus lose his expected vantage."Will you not be seated, Mr. Crawley?" said the bishop. Mr. Crawleysmiled, but stood his ground. Then the bishop returned to hisarm-chair, and Mr. Crawley also sat down again. "Mr. Crawley,"began the bishop, "this matter which came the other day before themagistrates at Silverbridge has been a most unfortunate affair. Ithas given me, I can assure you, the most sincere pain."
Mr. Crawley had made up his mind how far the bishop should be allowedto go without a rebuke. He had told himself that it would only benatural, and would not be unbecoming, that the bishop should alludeto the meeting of the magistrates and to the alleged theft, and thattherefore such allusion should be endured with patient humility.And, moreover, the more rope he gave the bishop, the more likely thebishop would be to entangle himself. It certainly was Mr. Crawley'swish that the bishop should entangle himself. He, therefore, repliedvery meekly, "It has been most unfortunate, my lord."
"I have felt for Mrs. Crawley very deeply," said Mrs. Proudie. Mr.Crawley had now made up his mind that as long as it was possible hewould ignore the presence of Mrs. Proudie altogether; and, therefore,he made no sign that he had heard the latter remark.
"It has been most unfortunate," continued the bishop. "I have neverbefore had a clergyman in my diocese placed in so distressing aposition."
"That is a matter of opinion, my lord," said Mr. Crawley, who at thatmoment thought of a crisis which had come in the life of anotherclergyman in the diocese of Barchester, with the circumstances ofwhich he had by chance been made acquainted.
"Exactly," said the bishop. "And I am expressing my opinion." Mr.Crawley, who understood fighting, did not think that the time hadyet come for striking a blow, so he simply bowed again. "A mostunfortunate position, Mr. Crawley," continued the bishop. "Far be itfrom me to express an opinion upon the matter, which will have tocome before a jury of your countrymen. It is enough for me to knowthat the magistrates assembled at Silverbridge, gentlemen to whom nodoubt you must be known, as most of them live in your neighbourhood,have heard evidence upon the subject--"
"Most convincing evidence," said Mrs. Proudie, interrupting herhusband. Mr. Crawley's black brow became a little blacker as he heardthe word, but still he ignored the woman. He not only did not speak,but did not turn his eye upon her.
"They have heard the evidence on the subject," continued the bishop,"and they have thought it proper to refer the decision as to yourinnocence or your guilt to a jury of your countrymen."
"And they were right," said Mr. Crawley.
"Very possibly. I don't deny it. Probably," said the bishop, whoseeloquence was somewhat disturbed by Mr. Crawley's ready acquiescence.
"Of course they were right," said Mrs. Proudie.
"At any rate it is so," said the bishop. "You are in the position ofa man amenable to the criminal laws of the land."
"There are no criminal laws, my lord," said Mr. Crawley; "but to suchlaws as there are we are all amenable,--your lordship and I alike."
"But you are so in a very particular way. I do not wish to remindyou what might be your condition now, but for the interposition ofprivate friends."
"I should be in the condition of a man not guilty before thelaw;--guiltless, as far as the law goes,--but kept in durance, notfor faults of his own, but because otherwise, by reason of laches inthe police, his presence at the assizes might not be ensured. In sucha position a man's reputation is made to hang for awhile on the trustwhich some friends or neighbours may have in it. I do not say thatthe test is a good one."
"You would have been put in prison, Mr. Crawley, because themagistrates were of opinion that you had taken Mr. Soames's cheque,"said Mrs. Proudie. On this occasion he did look at her. He turned oneglance upon her from under his eyebrows, but he did not speak.
"With all that I have nothing to do," said the bishop.
"Nothing whatever, my lord," said Mr. Crawley.
"But, bishop, I think that you have," said Mrs. Proudie. "Thejudgment formed by the magistrates as to the conduct of one of yourclergymen makes it imperative upon you to act in the matter."
"Yes, my dear, yes; I am coming to that. What Mrs. Proudie says isperfectly true. I have been constrained most unwillingly to takeaction in this matter. It is undoubtedly the fact that you must atthe next assizes surrender yourself at the court-house yonder, to betried for this offence against the laws."
"That is true. If I be alive, my lord, and have strength sufficient,I shall be there."
"You must be there," said Mrs. Proudie. "The police will look tothat, Mr. Crawley." She was becoming very angry in that the man wouldnot answer her a word. On this occasion again he did not even look ather.
"Yes; you will be there," said the bishop. "Now that is, to say theleast of it, an unseemly position for a beneficed clergyman."
"You said before, my lord, that it was an unfortunate position, andthe word, methinks, was better chosen."
"It is very unseemly, very unseemly indeed," said Mrs. Proudie;"nothing could possibly be more unseemly. The bishop might veryproperly have used a much stronger word."
"Under these circumstances," continued the bishop, "looking to thewelfare of your parish, to the welfare of the diocese, and allow meto say, Mr. Crawley, to the welfare of yourself also--"
"And especially to the souls of the people," said Mrs. Proudie.
The bishop shook his head. It is hard to be impressively eloquentwhen one is interrupted at every best turned period, even by asupporting voice. "Yes;--and looking of course to the religiousinterests of your people, Mr. Crawley, I came to the conclusionthat it would be expedient that you should cease your ministrationsfor awhile." The bishop paused, and Mr. Crawley bowed his head."I, therefore, sent over to you a gentleman with whom I am wellacquainted, Mr. Thumble, with a letter from myself, in which Iendeavoured to impress upon you, without the use of any severelanguage, what my convictions were."
"Severe words are often the best mercy," said Mrs. Proudie. Mr.Crawley had raised his hand, with his finger out, preparatory toanswering the bishop. But as Mrs. Proudie had spoken he dropped hisfinger and was silent.
"Mr. Thumble brought me back your written reply," continued thebishop, "by which I was grieved to find that you were not willing tosubmit yourself to my counsel in the matter."
"I was most unwilling, my lord. Submission to authority is at times aduty;--and at times opposition to authority is a duty also."
"Opposition to just authority cannot be a duty, Mr. Crawley."
"Opposition to usurped authority is an imperative duty," said Mr.Crawley.
"And who is to be the judge?" demanded Mrs. Proudie. Then there wassilence for a while; when, as Mr. Crawley made no reply, the ladyrepeated her question. "Will you be pleased to answer my question,sir? Who, in such a case, is to be the judge?" But Mr. Crawley didnot please to answer her question. "The man is obstinate," said Mrs.Proudie.
"I had better proceed," said the bishop. "Mr. Thumble brought me backyour reply, which grieved me greatly."
"It was contumacious and indecent," said Mrs. Proudie.
The bishop again shook his head and looked so unutterably miserablethat a smile came across Mr. Crawley's face. After all, othersbesides himself had their troubles and trials. Mrs. Proudie sawand understood the smile, and became more angry than ever. She drewher chair close to the table, and began to fidget with her fingersamong the papers. She had never before encountered a clergyman socontumacious, so indecent, so unreverend,--so upsetting. She had hadto do with men difficult to manage;--the archdeacon for instance;but the archdeacon had never been so impertinent to her as this man.She had quarrelled once openly with a chaplain of her husband's, aclergyman whom she herself had introduced to her husband, and who hadtreated her very badly;--but not so badly, not with such unscrupulousviolence, as she was now encountering from this ill-clothed beggarlyman, this perpetual curate, with his dirty broken boots, this alreadyhalf-convicted thief! Such was her idea of Mr. Crawley's conduct toher, while she was fingering the papers,--simply because Mr. Crawleywould not speak to her.
"I forget where I was," said the bishop. "Oh. Mr. Thumble came back,and I received your letter;--of course I received it. And I wassurprised to learn from that, that in spite of what had occurred atSilverbridge, you were still anxious to continue the usual Sundayministrations in your church."
"I was determined that I would do my duty at Hogglestock, as long asI might be left there to do it," said Mr. Crawley.
"Duty!" said Mrs. Proudie.
"Just a moment, my dear," said the bishop. "When Sunday came, I hadno alternative but to send Mr. Thumble over again to Hogglestock. Itoccurred to us,--to me and Mrs. Proudie,--"
"I will tell Mr. Crawley just now what has occurred to me," said Mrs.Proudie.
"Yes;--just so. And I am sure that he will take it in good part. Itoccurred to me, Mr. Crawley, that your first letter might have beenwritten in haste."
"It was written in haste, my lord; your messenger was waiting."
"Yes;--just so. Well; so I sent him again, hoping that he might beaccepted as a messenger of peace. It was a most disagreeable missionfor any gentleman, Mr. Crawley."
"Most disagreeable, my lord."
"And you refused him permission to obey the instructions which I hadgiven him! You would not let him read from your desk, or preach fromyour pulpit."
"Had I been Mr. Thumble," said Mrs. Proudie, "I would have read fromthat desk and I would have preached from that pulpit."
Mr. Crawley waited a moment, thinking that the bishop might perhapsspeak again; but as he did not, but sat expectant as though he hadfinished his discourse, and now expected a reply, Mr. Crawley got upfrom his seat and drew near to the table. "My lord," he began, "ithas all been just as you have said. I did answer your first letter inhaste."
"The more shame for you," said Mrs. Proudie.
"And therefore, for aught I know, my letter to your lordship may beso worded as to need some apology."
"Of course it needs an apology," said Mrs. Proudie.
"But for the matter of it, my lord, no apology can be made, nor isany needed. I did refuse to your messenger permission to perform theservices of my church, and if you send twenty more, I shall refusethem all,--till the time may come when it will be your lordship'sduty, in accordance with the laws of the Church,--as borne out andbacked by the laws of the land, to provide during my constrainedabsence for the spiritual wants of those poor people at Hogglestock."
"Poor people, indeed," said Mrs. Proudie. "Poor wretches!"
"And, my lord, it may well be, that it shall soon be your lordship'sduty to take due and legal steps for depriving me of my benefice atHogglestock;--nay, probably, for silencing me altogether as to theexercise of my sacred profession!"
"Of course it will, sir. Your gown will be taken from you," said Mrs.Proudie. The bishop was looking with all his eyes up at the greatforehead and great eyebrows of the man, and was so fascinated by thepower that was exercised over him by the other man's
strength that hehardly now noticed his wife.
"It may well be so," continued Mr. Crawley. "The circumstancesare strong against me; and, though your lordship has altogethermisunderstood the nature of the duty performed by the magistrates insending my case for trial,--although, as it seems to me, you havecome to conclusions in this matter in ignorance of the very theory ofour laws,--"
"Sir!" said Mrs. Proudie.
"Yet I can foresee the probability that a jury may discover me tohave been guilty of theft."
"Of course the jury will do so," said Mrs. Proudie.
"Should such verdict be given, then, my lord, your interference willbe legal, proper, and necessary. And you will find that, even if itbe within my power to oppose obstacles to your lordship's authority,I will oppose no such obstacle. There is, I believe, no appeal incriminal cases."
"None at all," said Mrs. Proudie. "There is no appeal against yourbishop. You should have learned that before."
"But till that time shall come, my lord, I shall hold my own atHogglestock as you hold your own here at Barchester. Nor have youmore power to turn me out of my pulpit by your mere voice, than Ihave to turn you out of your throne by mine. If you doubt me, mylord, your lordship's ecclesiastical court is open to you. Try itthere."
"You defy us, then?" said Mrs. Proudie.
"My lord, I grant your authority as bishop to be great, but even abishop can only act as the law allows him."
"God forbid that I should do more," said the bishop.
"Sir, you will find that your wicked threats will fall back upon yourown head," said Mrs. Proudie.
"Peace, woman," Mr. Crawley said, addressing her at last. The bishopjumped out of his chair at hearing the wife of his bosom called awoman. But he jumped rather in admiration than in anger. He hadalready begun to perceive that Mr. Crawley was a man who had betterbe left to take care of the souls at Hogglestock, at any rate tillthe trial should come on.
"Woman!" said Mrs. Proudie, rising to her feet as though she reallyintended some personal encounter.
"Madam," said Mr. Crawley, "you should not interfere in thesematters. You simply debase your husband's high office. The distaffwere more fitting for you. My lord, good morning." And before eitherof them could speak again, he was out of the room, and through thehall, and beyond the gate, and standing beneath the towers of thecathedral. Yes, he had, he thought, in truth crushed the bishop. Hehad succeeded in crumpling the bishop up within the clutch of hisfist.
He started in a spirit of triumph to walk back on his road towardsHogglestock. He did not think of the long distance before him forthe first hour of his journey. He had had his victory, and theremembrance of that braced his nerves and gave elasticity to hissinews, and he went stalking along the road with rapid strides,muttering to himself from time to time as he went along some wordabout Mrs. Proudie and her distaff. Mr. Thumble would not, hethought, come to him again,--not, at any rate, till the assizes weredrawing near. And he had resolved what he would do then. When theday of his trial was near, he would himself write to the bishop, andbeg that provision might be made for his church, in the event of theverdict going against him. His friend, Dean Arabin, was to be homebefore that time, and the idea had occurred to him of asking thedean to see to this; but now the other would be the more independentcourse, and the better. And there was a matter as to which he was notaltogether well pleased with the dean, although he was so consciousof his own peculiarities as to know that he could hardly trusthimself for a judgment. But, at any rate, he would apply to thebishop,--to the bishop whom he had just left prostrate in hispalace,--when the time of his trial should be close at hand.
Full of such thoughts as these he went along almost gaily, nor feltthe fatigue of the road till he had covered the first five miles outof Barchester. It was nearly four o'clock, and the thick gloom ofthe winter evening was making itself felt. And then he began to befatigued. He had not as yet eaten since he had left his home in themorning, and he now pulled a crust out of his pocket and leanedagainst a gate as he crunched it. There were still ten miles beforehim, and he knew that such an addition to the work he had alreadydone would task him very severely. Farmer Mangle had told him that hewould not leave Framley Mill till five, and he had got time to reachFramley Mill by that time. But he had said that he would not returnto Framley Mill, and he remembered his suspicion that his wife andfarmer Mangle between them had cozened him. No; he would persevereand walk,--walk, though he should drop upon the road. He was nownearer fifty than forty years of age, and hardships as well as timehad told upon him. He knew that though his strength was good for thecommencement of a hard day's work, it would not hold out for him asit used to do. He knew that the last four miles in the dark nightwould be very sad with him. But still he persevered, endeavouring, ashe went, to cherish himself with the remembrance of his triumph.
He passed the turning going down to Framley with courage, but whenhe came to the further turning, by which the cart would returnfrom Framley to the Hogglestock road, he looked wistfully down theroad for farmer Mangle. But farmer Mangle was still at the mill,waiting in expectation that Mr. Crawley might come to him. But thepoor traveller paused here barely for a minute, and then went on,stumbling through the mud, striking his ill-covered feet against therough stones in the dark, sweating in his weakness, almost totteringat times, and calculating whether his remaining strength would serveto carry him home. He had almost forgotten the bishop and his wifebefore at last he grasped the wicket gate leading to his own door.
"Oh, mamma, here is papa!"
"But where is the cart? I did not hear the wheels," said Mrs.Crawley.
"Oh, mamma, I think papa is ill." Then the wife took her droopinghusband by both arms and strove to look him in the face. "He haswalked all the way, and he is ill," said Jane.
"No, my dear, I am very tired, but not ill. Let me sit down, andgive me some bread and tea, and I shall recover myself." Then Mrs.Crawley, from some secret hoard, got him a small modicum of spirits,and gave him meat and tea, and he was docile; and, obeying herbehests, allowed himself to be taken to his bed.
"I do not think the bishop will send for me again," he said, as shetucked the clothes around him.
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