CHAPTER LXXXIII.
MR. CRAWLEY IS CONQUERED.
It was more than a week before the archdeacon received a reply fromMr. Crawley, during which time the dean had been over at Hogglestockmore than once, as had also Mrs. Arabin and Lady Lufton theyounger,--and there had been letters written without end, and thearchdeacon had been nearly beside himself. "A man who pretends toconscientious scruples of that kind is not fit to have a parish," hehad said to his wife. His wife understood what he meant, and I trustthat the reader may also understand it. In the ordinary cuttingof blocks a very fine razor is not an appropriate instrument. Thearchdeacon, moreover, loved the temporalities of the Church astemporalities. The Church was beautiful to him because one man byinterest might have a thousand a year, while another man equallygood, but without interest, could only have a hundred. And he likedthe men who had the interest a great deal better than the men whohad it not. He had been willing to admit this poor perpetual curate,who had so long been kept out in the cold, within the pleasantcircle which was warm with ecclesiastical good things, and the manhesitated,--because of scruples, as the dean told him! "I alwaysbutton up my pocket when I hear of scruples," the archdeacon said.
But at last Mr. Crawley condescended to accept St. Ewolds. "Reverendand dear Sir," he said in his letter.
For the personal benevolence of the offer made to me in your letter of the ---- instant, I beg to tender you my most grateful thanks; as also for your generous kindness to me, in telling me of the high praise bestowed upon me by a gentleman who is now no more,--whose character I have esteemed and whose good opinion I value. There is, methinks, something inexpressibly dear to me in the recorded praise of the dead. For the further instance of the friendship of the Dean of Barchester, I am also thankful.
Since the receipt of your letter I have doubted much as to my fitness for the work you have proposed to entrust to me,--not from any feeling that the parish of St. Ewolds may be beyond my intellectual power, but because the latter circumstances of my life have been of a nature so strange and perplexing, that they have left me somewhat in doubt as to my own aptitude for going about among men without giving offence and becoming a stumbling-block.
Nevertheless, reverend and dear sir, if after this confession on my part of a certain faulty demeanour with which I know well that I am afflicted, you are still willing to put the parish into my hands, I will accept the charge,--instigated to do so by the advice of all whom I have consulted on the subject; and in thus accepting it, I hereby pledge myself to vacate it at a month's warning, should I be called upon by you to do so at any period within the next two years. Should I be so far successful during those twenty-four months as to have satisfied both yourself and myself, I may then perhaps venture to regard the preferment as my own in perpetuity for life.
I have the honour to be, reverend and dear sir, Your most humble and faithful servant,
JOSIAH CRAWLEY.
"Psha!" said the archdeacon, who professed that he did not at alllike the letter. "I wonder what he would say if I sent him a month'snotice at next Michaelmas?"
"I'm sure he would go," said Mrs. Grantly.
"The more fool he," said the archdeacon.
At this time Grace was at the parsonage in a seventh heaven ofhappiness. The archdeacon was never rough to her, nor did he make anyof his harsh remarks about her father in her presence. Before her St.Ewolds was spoken of as the home that was to belong to the Crawleysfor the next twenty years. Mrs. Grantly was very loving with her,lavishing upon her pretty presents, and words that were prettier thanthe presents. Grace's life had hitherto been so destitute of thoseprettinesses and softnesses, which can hardly be had without moneythough money alone will not purchase them, that it seemed to her nowthat the heavens rained graciousness upon her. It was not that thearchdeacon's watch, or her lover's chain, or Mrs. Grantly's locket,or the little toy from Italy which Mrs. Arabin brought to her fromthe treasures of the deanery, filled her heart with undue exultation.It was not that she revelled in her new delights of silver and goldand shining gems: but that the silver and gold and shining gems wereconstant indications to her that things had changed, not only forher, but for her father and mother, and brother and sister. She feltnow more sure than ever that she could not have enjoyed her love hadshe accepted her lover while the disgrace of the accusation againsther father remained. But now,--having waited till that had passedaway, everything was a new happiness to her.
At last it was settled that Mr. and Mrs. Crawley were to come toPlumstead,--and they came. It would be too long to tell now howgradually had come about that changed state of things which made sucha visit possible. Mr. Crawley had at first declared that such a thingwas quite out of the question. If St. Ewolds was to depend upon itSt. Ewolds must be given up. And I think that it would have beenimpossible for him to go direct from Hogglestock to Plumstead. But itfell out after this wise.
Mr. Harding's curate at St. Ewolds was nominated to Hogglestock, andthe dean urged upon his friend Crawley the expediency of giving upthe house as quickly as he could do so. Gradually at this time Mr.Crawley had been forced into a certain amount of intimacy with thehaunts of men. He had been twice or thrice at Barchester, and hadlunched with the dean. He had been at Framley for an hour or two,and had been forced into some communication with old Mr. Thorne,the squire of his new parish. The end of this had been that he hadat last consented to transfer himself and wife and daughter to thedeanery for a fortnight. He had preached one farewell sermon atHogglestock,--not, as he told his audience, as their pastor, whichhe had ceased to be now for some two or three months,--but as theirold and loving friend, to whom the use of his former pulpit had beenlent, that he might express himself thus among them for the lasttime. His sermon was very short, and was preached without book ornotes,--but he never once paused for a word or halted in the stringor rhythm of his discourse. The dean was there and declared to himafterwards that he had not given him credit for such powers ofutterance. "Any man can utter out of a full heart," Crawley hadanswered. "In this trumpery affair about myself, my heart is full! Ifwe could only have our hearts full in other matters, our utterancesthereanent would receive more attention." To all of which the deanmade no reply.
On the day after this the Crawleys took their final departure fromHogglestock, all the brickmakers from Hoggle End having assembledon the occasion, with a purse containing seventeen pounds sevenshillings and sixpence, which they insisted on presenting to Mr.Crawley, and as to which there was a little difficulty. And at thedeanery they remained for a fortnight. How Mrs. Crawley, under theguidance of Mrs. Arabin, had there so far trenched upon the revenuesof St. Ewolds as to provide for her husband and herself raimentfitting for the worldly splendour of Plumstead, need not here betold in detail. Suffice to say, the raiment was forthcoming, and Mr.Crawley found himself to be the perplexed possessor of a black dresscoat, in addition to the long frock, coming nearly to his feet, whichwas provided for his daily wear. Touching this garment, there hadbeen some discussion between the dean and the new vicar. The deanhad desired that it should be curtailed in length. The vicar hadremonstrated,--but still with something of the weakness of compliancein his eye. Then the dean had persisted. "Surely the price ofthe cloth wanted to perfect the comeliness of the garment cannotbe much," said the vicar, almost woefully. After that, the deanrelented, and the comeliness of the coat was made perfect. The newblack long frock, I think Mr. Crawley liked; but the dress coat, withthe suit complete, perplexed him sorely.
With his new coats, and something, also, of new manners, he and hiswife went over to Plumstead, leaving Jane at the deanery with Mrs.Arabin. The dean also went to Plumstead. They arrived there not muchbefore dinner, and as Grace was there before them the first momentswere not so bad. Before Mr. Crawley had had time to feel himself lostin the drawing-room, he was summoned away to prepare himself fordinner,--for dinner, and for the coat, which at the deanery he hadbeen allowed to leave unworn.
"I would with all my heart that I mightretire to rest," he said to his wife, when the ceremony had beenperfected.
"Do not say so. Go down and take your place with them, and speak yourmind with them,--as you so well know how. Who among them can do it sowell?"
"I have been told," said Mr. Crawley, "that you shall take a cockwhich is lord of the farmyard,--the cock of all that walk,--and whenyou have daubed his feathers with mud, he shall be thrashed by everydunghill coward. I say not that I was ever the cock of the walk, butI know that they have daubed my feathers." Then he went down amongthe other poultry into the farmyard.
At dinner he was very silent, answering, however, with a sort ofgraceful stateliness any word that Mrs. Grantly addressed to him. Mr.Thorne, from Ullathorne, was there also to meet his new vicar, as wasalso Mr. Thorne's very old sister, Miss Monica Thorne. And Lady AnneGrantly was there,--she having come with the expressed intention thatthe wives of the two brothers should know each other,--but with awarmer desire, I think, of seeing Mr. Crawley, of whom the clericalworld had been talking much since some notice of the accusationagainst him had become general. There were, therefore, ten or twelveat the dinner-table, and Mr. Crawley had not made one at such a boardcertainly since his marriage. All went fairly smooth with him tillthe ladies left the room; for though Lady Anne, who sat at his lefthand, had perplexed him somewhat with clerical questions, he hadfound that he was not called upon for much more than monosyllabicresponses. But in his heart he feared the archdeacon, and he feltthat when the ladies were gone the archdeacon would not leave himalone in his silence.
As soon as the door was closed, the first subject mooted was that ofthe Plumstead fox, which had been so basely murdered on Mr. Thorne'sground. Mr. Thorne had confessed the iniquity, had dismissed themurderous keeper, and all was serene. But the greater on that accountwas the feasibility of discussing the question, and the archdeaconhad a good deal to say about it. Then Mr. Thorne turned to the newvicar, and asked him whether foxes abounded in Hogglestock. Had hebeen asked as to the rats or the moles, he would have known moreabout it.
"Indeed, sir, I know not whether or no there be any foxes in theparish of Hogglestock. I do not remember me that I ever saw one. Itis an animal whose habits I have not watched."
"There is an earth at Hoggle Bushes," said the major; "and I neverknew it without a litter."
"I think I know the domestic whereabouts of every fox in Plumstead,"said the archdeacon, with an ill-natured intention of astonishing Mr.Crawley.
"Of foxes with two legs our friend is speaking, without doubt," saidthe vicar of St. Ewolds, with an attempt at grim pleasantry.
"Of them we have none at Plumstead. No,--I was speaking of the dearold fellow with the brush. Pass the bottle, Mr. Crawley. Won't youfill your glass?" Mr. Crawley passed the bottle, but would not fillhis glass. Then the dean, looking up slily, saw the vexation writtenin the archdeacon's face. The parson whom the archdeacon feared mostof all parsons was the parson who wouldn't fill his glass.
Then the subject was changed. "I'm told that the bishop has at lastmade his reappearance on his throne," said the archdeacon.
"He was in the cathedral last Sunday," said the dean.
"Does he ever mean to preach again?"
"He never did preach very often," said the dean.
"A great deal too often, from all that people say," said thearchdeacon. "I never heard him myself, and never shall, I dare say.You have heard him, Mr. Crawley?"
"I have never had that good fortune, Mr. Archdeacon. But living as Ishall now do, so near to the city, I may perhaps be enabled to attendthe cathedral service on some holyday of the Church, which may notrequire prayers in my own rural parish. I think that the clergy ofthe diocese should be acquainted with the opinions, and with thevoice, and with the very manner and words of their bishop. As thingsare now done, this is not possible. I could wish that there wereoccasions on which a bishop might assemble his clergy, and preach tothem sermons adapted to their use."
"What do you call a bishop's charge, then?"
"It is usually in the printed form that I have received it," said Mr.Crawley.
"I think we have quite enough of that kind of thing," said thearchdeacon.
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