THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY--QUEEN ALEXANDRA
When the Radical rages against the House of Lords he commonly selects
as the most deserving object of his wrath the Lords Spiritual.
Wicked as the Lords Temporal are, their episcopal comrades are more
wicked still. This is, or was, more peculiarly the Nonconformist
point of view. A Dissenter exists in order to hate a Bishop. He
hates him as a rival in religion; a successful rival. He hates him
as the visible sign of that social ascendancy of the Church which is
to the Dissenter not less odious than its political and
ecclesiastical primacy.
He hates him also because he is rich, or is supposed to be so. The
Archbishop of Canterbury's £15,000 a year, his Palace at Lambeth, and
his Old Palace at Canterbury are all alike to the true Dissenter so
many proofs of the Devil's handiwork. The Archbishop of York is a
sinner of less degree only because his Devil's pension is less by
£5000 a year. The Bishop of London has the same salary as the
Archbishop of York, and his iniquity, though he is only a Bishop, is
therefore {390} the same. There is, then, a descending scale of
financial depravity. Beginning, next after London, with the Bishop
of Durham at £7000, we come to the Bishop of Ely with £5500, the
Bishops of Oxford, of Bath and Wells, and of Salisbury with £5000
each, and so, by easy stages of lessening vice, to the pauper Bishop
of Sodor and Man who gets but a pittance of £1500 a year.
Our Dissenting friend waxes hotter as he reflects that one Archbishop
is paid three times as much as a Prime Minister, and the other twice
as much, while three or four more Bishops receive stipends larger
than the present colleague of Mr. Lloyd-George and Mr. Winston
Churchill. These episcopal salaries are even higher than is that of
Mr. Lloyd-George, or that of Mr. Winston Churchill, who has to
content himself with £5000 a year while discharging not a few of the
duties of the Prime Minister, on the platform and, if all reports be
true, in the Cabinet itself.
This, perhaps, is rather incidental. I was explaining why the
Dissenter hates the Bishop. The attitude of the Bishops to the vital
question of Education augments the animosity of the Dissenter. Their
conservatism in general politics inflames their opponents still
further. To the Nonconformist orator they are an unfailing target,
and he ought to be very much obliged to them for supplying him with
ammunition, but is not. Mr. Bright thundered against them and their
"adulterous origin." Mr. Bright's wrath, whether rightly directed or
{391} not, was in itself a noble thing; the passion of a great soul
greatly stirred.
Just at present the Bishops are a little less obnoxious to the
Radical than usual, because they followed the Radical lead on the
Licensing Bill. That Bill evoked animosities not less bitter than
the Education Bill. The Bishops made it a question of temperance,
holding that by higher licensing fees and heavier taxes on
public-houses and on liquor the consumption of spirits would be
lessened. They argued that if there were fewer public-houses there
would be fewer drinkers and drunkards. They applauded Mr. Asquith
when he proposed that on Sundays a man should walk six miles before
he could have a glass of beer; for that is what the _bona fide_
traveller clause came to. If they had the influence with their
fellow-Peers they are supposed to have they could have prevented the
rejection of the Licensing Bill. But they could not do that. Then
the Radicals turned on them because they could not control a House
where their very presence is to the Radical a continuing offence.
"The Brewers are stronger than the Bishops!" cried the Radical, to
whose happiness a victim of one kind or another is essential.
The Archbishop of Canterbury led his brethren of the Episcopal Bench
in this matter of Temperance, as he has led them on other matters.
He is their natural leader. He is the Primate of all England; the
Head of the Church, next after the King. His abilities and character
are of a kind to fit him for leadership. I suppose it may sound
{392} like a paradox if I suggest that for him who holds the highest
ecclesiastical post in the land the first requisite is that he should
be a man of the world. But it is true, and it is equally true of all
Bishops. It was true of the late Bishop Potter, who was not only the
most eminent dignitary of the American Episcopal Church, but almost
the first citizen of New York. The Bishops have to administer each
his own diocese, and a diocese is a province. They must understand
how to govern. They must understand men and, so far as possible,
women. They must be men of affairs. Whether they know much Greek or
Hebrew is of quite secondary importance. Knowledge of that kind is
ornamental; the other kind is essential. They ought to be
diplomatists also; skilled not so much in controversy as in avoiding
controversy.
The present Archbishop is all this. His public career proves it, and
if you come to know him he will leave a very distinct personal
impression on your mind. It was my fortune to meet him at Dalmeny
House not many years ago, while he was still Bishop of Winchester.
His visit lasted some days, and there have not been many days more
interesting. Except for his clothes, and perhaps for a certain
sweetness of manner, you need not have supposed him to be a Bishop.
He did not talk shop. He talked as others talk who are not of the
Church. At once you saw he was broad-minded. I do not use the word
broad in its ecclesiastical sense. There was not a suggestion of the
apostolic or missionary attitude. That {393} was for another place
and other circumstances. _Nihil humani_ might have been his motto,
if he had a motto. He talked well, clearly, picturesquely, and in
the tone which any guest in a country house might use. He did not
require you to remember that he was a Bishop, or even a priest. He
was just himself. His knowledge and good sense and felicity of
thought and speech were his own.
Queen Alexandra came to tea. The Archbishop, as the Rev. Randall
Davidson, had been for eight years Dean of Windsor, and naturally had
seen much of the Royal Family. I suppose I may say that he had in
time become a trusted friend of the Queen, perhaps her most trusted
adviser. People who opposed his promotion called him a courtier, as
any man who lives much in the atmosphere of courts may be. It was
easy to see from the Queen's manner how much she liked the Bishop and
looked to him for counsel. If a point were in question, it was to
him she turned. The Princess Victoria was with the Queen, and there
too was a friendship.
Those were days when affairs in the United States were in a critical
state, or seemed to be, and when we were beginning to think that the
good-will of other countries might be important to us; as it was, and
always will be, as ours is to them. So I hope I shall not do amiss
if I repeat now a word which the Queen then said to me:
"I hope all the news from your own country is good. We all hope
that."
{394}
That expressed the Queen's personal, womanly sympathy, and something
more. Far gone were the days when English sympathies were for our
enemies. They are now for us, and Queen Victoria was our friend and
Queen Alexandra and the late King were our friends. They shared the
friendship of their people. The Queen spoke for herself and for
them. The Bishop stood by Her Majesty's side as she said it. His
face brightened. He knew, as well as anybody, how much it meant.
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