THE BISHOP SENDS HIS INHIBITION.
Tidings of Mr. Crawley's fate reached the palace at Barchester on the
afternoon of the day on which the magistrates had committed him. All
such tidings travel very quickly, conveyed by imperceptible wires,
and distributed by indefatigable message boys whom Rumour seems to
supply for the purpose. Barchester is twenty miles from Silverbridge
by road, and more than forty by railway. I doubt whether any one was
commissioned to send the news along the actual telegraph, and yet
Mrs. Proudie knew it before four o'clock. But she did not know it
quite accurately. "Bishop," she said, standing at her husband's study
door. "They have committed that man to gaol. There was no help for
them unless they had forsworn themselves."
"Not forsworn themselves, my dear," said the bishop, striving, as was
usual with him, by some meek and ineffectual word to teach his wife
that she was occasionally led by her energy into error. He never
persisted in the lessons when he found, as was usual, that they were
taken amiss.
"I say forsworn themselves!" said Mrs. Proudie; "and now what do
you mean to do? This is Thursday, and of course the man must not be
allowed to desecrate the church of Hogglestock by performing the
Sunday services."
"If he has been committed, my dear, and is in prison,--"
"I said nothing about prison, bishop."
"Gaol, my dear."
"I say they have committed him to gaol. So my informant tells me.
But of course all the Plumstead and Framley set will move heaven and
earth to get him out, so that he may be there as a disgrace to the
diocese. I wonder how the dean will feel when he hears of it! I do,
indeed. For the dean, though he is an idle, useless man, with no
church principles, and no real piety, still he has a conscience. I
think he has a conscience."
"I'm sure he has, my dear."
"Well;--let us hope so. And if he has a conscience, what must be his
feelings when he hears that this creature whom he brought into the
diocese has been committed to gaol along with common felons."
"Not with felons, my dear; at least, I should think not."
"I say with common felons! A downright robbery of twenty pounds,
just as though he had broken into the bank! And so he did, with
sly artifice, which is worse in such hands than a crowbar. And now
what are we to do? Here is Thursday, and something must be done
before Sunday for the souls of those poor benighted creatures at
Hogglestock." Mrs. Proudie was ready for the battle, and was even
now sniffing the blood afar-off. "I believe it's a hundred and
thirty pounds a year," she said, before the bishop had collected his
thoughts sufficiently for a reply.
"I think we must find out, first of all, whether he is really to be
shut up in prison," said the bishop.
"And suppose he is not to be shut up. Suppose they have been weak,
or untrue to their duty--and from what we know of the magistrates of
Barsetshire, there is too much reason to suppose that they will have
been so; suppose they have let him out, is he to go about like a
roaring lion--among the souls of the people?"
The bishop shook in his shoes. When Mrs. Proudie began to talk of the
souls of the people he always shook in his shoes. She had an eloquent
way of raising her voice over the word souls that was qualified
to make any ordinary man shake in his shoes. The bishop was a
conscientious man, and well knew that poor Mr. Crawley, even though
he might have become a thief under terrible temptation, would
not roar at Hogglestock to the injury of any man's soul. He was
aware that this poor clergyman had done his duty laboriously and
efficiently, and he was also aware that though he might have been
committed by the magistrates, and then let out upon bail, he should
not be regarded now, in these days before his trial, as a convicted
thief. But to explain all this to Mrs. Proudie was beyond his power.
He knew well that she would not hear a word in mitigation of Mr.
Crawley's presumed offence. Mr. Crawley belonged to the other party,
and Mrs. Proudie was a thorough-going partisan. I know a man,--an
excellent fellow, who, being himself a strong politician, constantly
expresses a belief that all politicians opposed to him are thieves,
child-murderers, parricides, lovers of incest, demons upon the
earth. He is a strong partisan, but not, I think, so strong as Mrs.
Proudie. He says that he believes all evil of his opponents; but she
really believed the evil. The archdeacon had called Mrs. Proudie a
she-Beelzebub; but that was a simple ebullition of mortal hatred. He
believed her to be simply a vulgar, interfering, brazen-faced virago.
Mrs. Proudie in truth believed that the archdeacon was an actual
emanation from Satan, sent to those parts to devour souls,--as she
would call it,--and that she herself was an emanation of another
sort, sent from another source expressly to Barchester, to prevent
such devouring, as far as it might possibly be prevented by a mortal
agency. The bishop knew it all,--understood it all. He regarded the
archdeacon as a clergyman belonging to a party opposed to his party,
and he disliked the man. He knew that from his first coming into the
diocese he had been encountered with enmity by the archdeacon and
the archdeacon's friends. If left to himself he could feel and to a
certain extent could resent such enmity. But he had no faith in his
wife's doctrine of emanations. He had no faith in many things which
she believed religiously;--and yet what could he do? If he attempted
to explain, she would stop him before he had got through the first
half of his first sentence.
"If he is out on bail--," commenced the bishop.
"Of course he will be out on bail."
"Then I think he should feel--"
"Feel! such men never feel! What feeling can one expect from a
convicted thief?"
"Not convicted as yet, my dear," said the bishop.
"A convicted thief," repeated Mrs. Proudie; and she vociferated the
words in such a tone that the bishop resolved that he would for the
future let the word convicted pass without notice. After all she was
only using the phrase in a peculiar sense given to it by herself.
[Illustration: "A convicted thief," repeated Mrs. Proudie.]
"It won't be proper, certainly, that he should do the services,"
suggested the bishop.
"Proper! It would be a scandal to the whole diocese. How could he
raise his head as he pronounced the eighth commandment? That must be
at least prevented."
The bishop, who was seated, fretted himself in his chair, moving
about with little movements. He knew that there was a misery coming
upon him; and, as far as he could see, it might become a great
misery,--a huge blistering sore upon him. When miseries came to him,
as they did not unfrequently, he would unconsciously endeavour to
fathom them and weigh them, and then, with some gallantry, resolve to
bear them, if he could find that their depth and weight were not too
great for his powers of endurance. He would let the cold wind whistle
by him, putting up the collar of his coat, and would encounter the
winter weather without complaint. And he would be patient under the
hot sun, knowing well that tranquillity is best for those who have to
bear tropical heat. But when the storm threatened to knock him off
his legs, when the earth beneath him became too hot for his poor
tender feet,--what could he do then? There had been with him such
periods of misery, during which he had wailed inwardly and had
confessed to himself that the wife of his bosom was too much for him.
Now the storm seemed to be coming very roughly. It would be demanded
of him that he should exercise certain episcopal authority which he
knew did not belong to him. Now, episcopal authority admits of being
stretched or contracted according to the character of the bishop who
uses it. It is not always easy for a bishop himself to know what he
may do, and what he may not do. He may certainly give advice to any
clergyman in his diocese, and he may give it in such form that it
will have in it something of authority. Such advice coming from a
dominant bishop to a clergyman with a submissive mind, has in it very
much of authority. But Bishop Proudie knew that Mr. Crawley was not a
clergyman with a submissive mind, and he feared that he himself, as
regarded from Mr. Crawley's point of view, was not a dominant bishop.
And yet he could only act by advice. "I will write to him," said
the bishop, "and will explain to him that as he is circumstanced he
should not appear in the reading desk."
"Of course he must not appear in the reading desk. That scandal must
at any rate be inhibited." Now the bishop did not at all like the use
of the word inhibited, understanding well that Mrs. Proudie intended
it to be understood as implying some episcopal command against which
there should be no appeal;--but he let it pass.
"I will write to him, my dear, to-night."
"And Mr. Thumble can go over with the letter the first thing in the
morning."
"Will not the post be better?"
"No, bishop; certainly not."
"He would get it sooner, if I write to-night, my dear."
"In either case he will get it to-morrow morning. An hour or two will
not signify, and if Mr. Thumble takes it himself we shall know how it
is received. It will be well that Thumble should be there in person
as he will want to look for lodgings in the parish."
"But, my dear--"
"Well, bishop?"
"About lodgings? I hardly think that Mr. Thumble, if we decide that
Mr. Thumble shall undertake the duty--"
"We have decided that Mr. Thumble should undertake the duty. That is
decided."
"But I do not think he should trouble himself to look for lodgings at
Hogglestock. He can go over on the Sundays."
"And who is to do the parish work? Would you have that man, a
convicted thief, to look after the schools, and visit the sick, and
perhaps attend the dying?"
"There will be a great difficulty; there will indeed," said the
bishop, becoming very unhappy, and feeling that he was driven by
circumstances either to assert his own knowledge or teach his wife
something of the law with reference to his position as a bishop. "Who
is to pay Mr. Thumble?"
"The income of the parish must be sequestrated, and he must be paid
out of that. Of course he must have the income while he does the
work."
"But, my dear, I cannot sequestrate the man's income."
"I don't believe it, bishop. If the bishop cannot sequestrate, who
can? But you are always timid in exercising the authority put into
your hands for wise purposes. Not sequestrate the income of a man
who has been proved to be a thief! You leave that to us, and we
will manage it." The "us" here named comprised Mrs. Proudie and the
bishop's managing chaplain.
Then the bishop was left alone for an hour to write the letter which
Mr. Thumble was to carry over to Mr. Crawley,--and after a while
he did write it. Before he commenced the task, however, he sat for
some moments in his arm-chair close by the fire-side, asking himself
whether it might not be possible for him to overcome his enemy in
this matter. How would it go with him suppose he were to leave the
letter unwritten, and send in a message by his chaplain to Mrs.
Proudie, saying that as Mr. Crawley was out on bail, the parish might
be left for the present without episcopal interference? She could not
make him interfere. She could not force him to write the letter. So,
at least, he said to himself. But as he said it, he almost thought
that she could do these things. In the last thirty years, or more,
she had ever contrived by some power latent in her to have her will
effected. But what would happen if now, even now, he were to rebel?
That he would personally become very uncomfortable, he was well
aware, but he thought that he could bear that. The food would become
bad,--mere ashes between his teeth, the daily modicum of wine would
lose its flavour, the chimneys would all smoke, the wind would come
from the east, and the servants would not answer the bell. Little
miseries of that kind would crowd upon him. He had arrived at a time
of life in which such miseries make such men very miserable; but yet
he thought that he could endure them. And what other wretchedness
would come to him? She would scold him,--frightfully, loudly,
scornfully, and worse than all, continually. But of this he had so
much habitually, that anything added might be borne also;--if only he
could be sure that the scoldings should go on in private, that the
world of the palace should not be allowed to hear the revilings to
which he would be subjected. But to be scolded publicly was the great
evil which he dreaded beyond all evils. He was well aware that the
palace would know his misfortune, that it was known, and freely
discussed by all, from the examining chaplain down to the palace
boot-boy;--nay, that it was known to all the diocese; but yet he
could smile upon those around him, and look as though he held his
own like other men,--unless when open violence was displayed. But
when that voice was heard aloud along the corridors of the palace,
and when he was summoned imperiously by the woman, calling for her
bishop, so that all Barchester heard it, and when he was compelled
to creep forth from his study, at the sound of that summons, with
distressed face, and shaking hands, and short hurrying steps,--a
being to be pitied even by a deacon,--not venturing to assume
an air of masterdom should he chance to meet a housemaid on the
stairs,--then, at such moments as that, he would feel that any
submission was better than the misery which he suffered. And he well
knew that should he now rebel, the whole house would be in a turmoil.
He would be bishoped here, and bishoped there, before the eyes of all
palatial men and women, till life would be a burden to him. So he got
up from his seat over the fire, and went to his desk and wrote the
letter. The letter was as follows:--
The Palace, Barchester, -- December, 186--.
REVEREND SIR,--[he left out the dear, because he knew
that if he inserted it he would be compelled to write the
letter over again]
I have heard to-day with the greatest trouble of spirit,
that you have been taken before a bench of magistrates
assembled at Silverbridge, having been previously arrested
by the police in your parsonage house at Hogglestock, and
that the magistrates of Silverbridge have committed you to
take your trial at the next assizes at Barchester, on a
charge of theft.
Far be it from me to prejudge the case. You will
understand, reverend sir, that I express no opinion
whatever as to your guilt or innocence in this matter.
If you have been guilty, may the Lord give you grace to
repent of your great sin and to make such amends as may
come from immediate acknowledgment and confession. If you
are innocent, may He protect you, and make your innocence
to shine before all men. In either case may the Lord be
with you and keep your feet from further stumbling.
But I write to you now as your bishop, to explain to you
that circumstanced as you are, you cannot with decency
perform the church services of your parish. I have that
confidence in you that I doubt not you will agree with
me in this, and will be grateful to me for relieving you
so far from the immediate perplexities of your position.
I have, therefore, appointed the Rev. Caleb Thumble to
perform the duties of incumbent of Hogglestock till such
time as a jury shall have decided upon your case at
Barchester; and in order that you may at once become
acquainted with Mr. Thumble, as will be most convenient
that you should do, I will commission him to deliver this
letter into your hand personally to-morrow, trusting that
you will receive him with that brotherly spirit in which
he is sent upon this painful mission.
Touching the remuneration to which Mr. Thumble will become
entitled for his temporary ministrations in the parish
of Hogglestock, I do not at present lay down any strict
injunction. He must, at any rate, be paid at a rate not
less than that ordinarily afforded for a curate.
I will once again express my fervent hope that the Lord
may bring you to see the true state of your own soul, and
that He may fill you with the grace of repentance, so that
the bitter waters of the present hour may not pass over
your head and destroy you.
I have the honour to be,
Reverend Sir,
Your faithful servant in Christ,
T. BARNUM.*
*Baronum Castrum having been the old Roman name from which
the modern Barchester is derived, the bishops of the
diocese have always signed themselves Barnum.
The bishop had hardly finished his letter when Mrs. Proudie returned
to the study, followed by the Rev. Caleb Thumble. Mr. Thumble was a
little man, about forty years of age, who had a wife and children
living in Barchester, and who existed on such chance clerical crumbs
as might fall from the table of the bishop's patronage. People in
Barchester said that Mrs. Thumble was a cousin of Mrs. Proudie's; but
as Mrs. Proudie stoutly denied the connection, it may be supposed
that the people of Barchester were wrong. And, had Mr. Thumble's wife
in truth been a cousin, Mrs. Proudie would surely have provided for
him during the many years in which the diocese had been in her hands.
No such provision had been made, and Mr. Thumble, who had now been
living in the diocese for three years, had received nothing else from
the bishop than such chance employment as this which he was now to
undertake at Hogglestock. He was a humble, mild-voiced man, when
within the palace precincts, and had so far succeeded in making
his way among his brethren in the cathedral city as to be employed
not unfrequently for absent minor canons in chanting the week-day
services, being remunerated for his work at the rate of about two
shillings and sixpence a service.
The bishop handed his letter to his wife, observing in an off-hand
kind of way that she might as well see what he said. "Of course I
shall read it," said Mrs. Proudie. And the bishop winced visibly,
because Mr. Thumble was present. "Quite right," said Mrs. Proudie,
"quite right to let him know that you knew that he had been
arrested,--actually arrested by the police."
"I thought it proper to mention that, because of the scandal," said
the bishop.
"Oh, it has been terrible in the city," said Mr. Thumble.
"Never mind, Mr. Thumble," said Mrs. Proudie. "Never mind that at
present." Then she continued to read the letter. "What's this?
Confession! That must come out, bishop. It will never do that you
should recommend confession to anybody, under any circumstances."
"But, my dear--"
"It must come out, bishop."
"My lord has not meant auricular confession," suggested Mr. Thumble.
Then Mrs. Proudie turned round and looked at Mr. Thumble, and Mr.
Thumble nearly sank amidst the tables and chairs. "I beg your pardon,
Mrs. Proudie," he said. "I didn't mean to intrude."
"The word must come out, bishop," repeated Mrs. Proudie. "There
should be no stumbling-blocks prepared for feet that are only too
ready to fall." And the word did come out.
"Now, Mr. Thumble," said the lady, as she gave the letter to her
satellite, "the bishop and I wish you to be at Hogglestock early
to-morrow. You should be there not later than ten, certainly." Then
she paused until Mr. Thumble had given the required promise. "And we
request that you will be very firm in the mission which is confided
to you, a mission which, as of course you see, is of a very delicate
and important nature. You must be firm."
"I will endeavour," said Mr. Thumble.
"The bishop and I both feel that this most unfortunate man must not
under any circumstances be allowed to perform the services of the
Church while this charge is hanging over him,--a charge as to the
truth of which no sane man can entertain a doubt."
"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Proudie," said Mr. Thumble.
"The bishop and I therefore are most anxious that you should make Mr.
Crawley understand at once,--at once," and the lady, as she spoke,
lifted up her left hand with an eloquent violence which had its
effect upon Mr. Thumble, "that he is inhibited,"--the bishop shook
in his shoes,--"inhibited from the performance of any of his sacred
duties." Thereupon, Mr. Thumble promised obedience and went his way.