THE BISHOP'S ANGEL.
It was nearly nine before Mr. Crawley got back to his house, and
found his wife and daughter waiting breakfast for him. "I should not
wonder if Grace were over here to-day," said Mrs. Crawley. "She'd
better remain where she is," said he. After this the meal passed
almost without a word. When it was over, Jane, at a sign from her
mother, went up to her father and asked him whether she should read
with him. "Not now," he said, "not just now. I must rest my brain
before it will be fit for any work." Then he got into the chair over
the fire, and his wife began to fear that he would remain there all
the day.
But the morning was not far advanced, when there came a visitor who
disturbed him, and by disturbing him did him real service. Just at
ten there arrived at the little gate before the house a man on a
pony, whom Jane espied, standing there by the pony's head and looking
about for some one to relieve him from the charge of his steed.
This was Mr. Thumble, who had ridden over to Hogglestock on a poor
spavined brute belonging to the bishop's stable, and which had once
been the bishop's cob. Now it was the vehicle by which Mrs. Proudie's
episcopal messages were sent backwards and forwards through a
twelve-miles ride round Barchester; and so many were the lady's
requirements, that the poor animal by no means eat the hay of
idleness. Mr. Thumble had suggested to Mrs. Proudie, after their
interview with the bishop and the giving up of the letter to the
clerical messenger's charge, that before hiring a gig from the
"Dragon of Wantley," he should be glad to know,--looking as he always
did to "Mary Anne and the children,"--whence the price of the gig was
to be returned to him. Mrs. Proudie had frowned at him,--not with all
the austerity of frowning which she could use when really angered,
but simply with a frown which gave her some little time for thought,
and would enable her to continue the rebuke if, after thinking,
she should find that rebuke was needed. But mature consideration
showed her that Mr. Thumble's caution was not without reason. Were
the bishop energetic,--or even the bishop's managing chaplain as
energetic as he should be, Mr. Crawley might, as Mrs. Proudie felt
assured, be made in some way to pay for a conveyance for Mr. Thumble.
But the energy was lacking, and the price of the gig, if the gig were
ordered, would certainly fall ultimately upon the bishop's shoulders.
This was very sad. Mrs. Proudie had often grieved over the necessary
expenditure of episcopal surveillance, and had been heard to declare
her opinion that a liberal allowance for secret service should
be made in every diocese. What better could the Ecclesiastical
Commissioners do with all those rich revenues which they had stolen
from the bishops? But there was no such liberal allowance at present,
and, therefore, Mrs. Proudie, after having frowned at Mr. Thumble for
some seconds, desired him to take the grey cob. Now, Mr. Thumble had
ridden the grey cob before, and would much have preferred a gig. But
even the grey cob was better than a gig at his own cost.
"Mamma, there's a man at the gate wanting to come in," said Jane. "I
think he's a clergyman."
Mr. Crawley immediately raised his head, though he did not at once
leave his chair. Mrs. Crawley went to the window, and recognized the
reverend visitor. "My dear, it is that Mr. Thumble, who is so much
with the bishop."
"What does Mr. Thumble want with me?"
"Nay, my dear; he will tell you that himself." But Mrs. Crawley,
though she answered him with a voice intended to be cheerful, greatly
feared the coming of this messenger from the palace. She perceived
at once that the bishop was about to interfere with her husband in
consequence of that which the magistrates had done yesterday.
"Mamma, he doesn't know what to do with his pony," said Jane.
"Tell him to tie it to the rail," said Mr. Crawley. "If he has
expected to find menials here, as he has them at the palace, he will
be wrong. If he wants to come in here, let him tie the beast to the
rail." So Jane went out and sent a message to Mr. Thumble by the
girl, and Mr. Thumble did tie the pony to the rail, and followed the
girl into the house. Jane in the meantime had retired out by the back
door to the school, but Mrs. Crawley kept her ground. She kept her
ground although she almost believed that her husband would prefer to
have the field to himself. As Mr. Thumble did not at once enter the
room, Mr. Crawley stalked to the door, and stood with it open in his
hand. Though he knew Mr. Thumble's person, he was not acquainted
with him, and therefore he simply bowed to the visitor, bowing
more than once or twice with a cold courtesy, which did not put Mr.
Thumble altogether at his ease. "My name is Mr. Thumble," said the
visitor,--"The Reverend Caleb Thumble," and he held the bishop's
letter in his hand. Mr. Crawley seemed to take no notice of the
letter, but motioned Mr. Thumble with his hand into the room.
"I suppose you have come over from Barchester this morning?" said
Mrs. Crawley.
"Yes, madam,--from the palace." Mr. Thumble, though a humble man in
positions in which he felt that humility would become him,--a humble
man to his betters, as he himself would have expressed it,--had still
about him something of that pride which naturally belonged to those
clergymen who were closely attached to the palace at Barchester. Had
he been sent on a message to Plumstead,--could any such message from
Barchester palace have been possible, he would have been properly
humble in his demeanour to the archdeacon, or to Mrs. Grantly had he
been admitted to the august presence of that lady; but he was aware
that humility would not become him on his present mission; he had
been expressly ordered to be firm by Mrs. Proudie, and firm he meant
to be; and therefore, in communicating to Mrs. Crawley the fact that
he had come from the palace, he did load the tone of his voice with
something of dignity which Mr. Crawley might perhaps be excused for
regarding as arrogance.
"And what does the 'palace' want with me?" said Mr. Crawley. Mrs.
Crawley knew at once that there was to be a battle. Nay, the battle
had begun. Nor was she altogether sorry; for though she could not
trust her husband to sit alone all day in his arm-chair over the
fire, she could trust him to carry on a disputation with any other
clergyman on any subject whatever. "What does the palace want with
me?" And as Mr. Crawley asked the question he stood erect, and looked
Mr. Thumble full in the face. Mr. Thumble called to mind the fact,
that Mr. Crawley was a very poor man indeed,--so poor that he owed
money all round the country to butchers and bakers, and the other
fact, that he, Mr. Thumble himself, did not owe any money to any one,
his wife luckily having a little income of her own; and, strengthened
by these remembrances, he endeavoured to bear Mr. Crawley's attack
with gallantry.
"Of course, Mr. Crawley, you are aware that this unfortunate affair
at Silverbridge--"
"I am not prepared, sir, to discuss the unfortunate affair at
Silverbridge with a stranger. If you are the bearer of any message to
me from the Bishop of Barchester, perhaps you will deliver it."
"I have brought a letter," said Mr. Thumble. Then Mr. Crawley
stretched out his hand without a word, and taking the letter with him
to the window, read it very slowly. When he had made himself master
of its contents, he refolded the letter, placed it again in the
envelope, and returned to the spot where Mr. Thumble was standing.
"I will answer the bishop's letter," he said; "I will answer it of
course, as it is fitting that I should do. Shall I ask you to wait
for my reply, or shall I send it by course of post?"
"I think, Mr. Crawley, as the bishop wishes me to undertake the
duty--"
"You will not undertake the duty, Mr. Thumble. You need not trouble
yourself, for I shall not surrender my pulpit to you."
"But the bishop--"
"I care nothing for the bishop in this matter." So much he spoke in
anger, and then he corrected himself. "I crave the bishop's pardon,
and yours as his messenger, if in the heat occasioned by my strong
feelings I have said aught which may savour of irreverence towards
his lordship's office. I respect his lordship's high position as
bishop of this diocese, and I bow to his commands in all things
lawful. But I must not bow to him in things unlawful, nor must I
abandon my duty before God at his bidding, unless his bidding be
given in accordance with the canons of the Church and the laws of the
land. It will be my duty, on the coming Sunday, to lead the prayers
of my people in the church of my parish, and to preach to them from
my pulpit; and that duty, with God's assistance, I will perform. Nor
will I allow any clergyman to interfere with me in the performance
of those sacred offices,--no, not though the bishop himself should
be present with the object of enforcing his illegal command." Mr.
Crawley spoke these words without hesitation, even with eloquence,
standing upright, and with something of a noble anger gleaming over
his poor wan face; and, I think, that while speaking them, he was
happier than he had been for many a long day.
Mr. Thumble listened to him patiently, standing with one foot a
little in advance of the other, with one hand folded over the other,
with his head rather on one side, and with his eyes fixed on the
corner where the wall and ceiling joined each other. He had been
told to be firm, and he was considering how he might best display
firmness. He thought that he remembered some story of two parsons
fighting for one pulpit, and he thought also that he should not
himself like to incur the scandal of such a proceeding in the
diocese. As to the law in the matter he knew nothing himself; but
he presumed that a bishop would probably know the law better than a
perpetual curate. That Mrs. Proudie was intemperate and imperious, he
was aware. Had the message come from her alone, he might have felt
that even for her sake he had better give way. But as the despotic
arrogance of the lady had been in this case backed by the timid
presence and hesitating words of her lord, Mr. Thumble thought
that he must have the law on his side. "I think you will find, Mr.
Crawley," said he, "that the bishop's inhibition is strictly legal."
He had picked up the powerful word from Mrs. Proudie and flattered
himself that it might be of use to him in carrying his purpose.
"It is illegal," said Mr. Crawley, speaking somewhat louder than
before, "and will be absolutely futile. As you pleaded to me that you
yourself and your own personal convenience were concerned in this
matter, I have made known my intentions to you, which otherwise I
should have made known only to the bishop. If you please, we will
discuss the subject no further."
"Am I to understand, Mr. Crawley, that you refuse to obey the
bishop?"
"The bishop has written to me, sir; and I will make known my
intention to the bishop by a written answer. As you have been the
bearer of the bishop's letter to me, I am bound to ask you whether
I shall be indebted to you for carrying back my reply, or whether
I shall send it by course of post?" Mr. Thumble considered for a
moment, and then made up his mind that he had better wait, and carry
back the epistle. This was Friday, and the letter could not be
delivered by post till the Saturday morning. Mrs. Proudie might be
angry with him if he should be the cause of loss of time. He did
not, however, at all like waiting, having perceived that Mr. Crawley,
though with language courteously worded, had spoken of him as a mere
messenger.
"I think," he said, "that I may, perhaps, best further the object
which we must all have in view, that namely of providing properly
for the Sunday services of the church of Hogglestock, by taking your
reply personally to the bishop."
"That provision is my care and need trouble no one else," said
Mr. Crawley, in a loud voice. Then, before seating himself at his
old desk, he stood awhile, pondering, with his back turned to his
visitor. "I have to ask your pardon, sir," said he, looking round
for a moment, "because, by reason of the extreme poverty of this
house, my wife is unable to offer to you that hospitality which is
especially due from one clergyman to another."
"Oh, don't mention it," said Mr. Thumble.
"If you will allow me, sir, I would prefer that it should be
mentioned." Then he seated himself at his desk, and commenced his
letter.
Mr. Thumble felt himself to be awkwardly placed. Had there been no
third person in the room he could have sat down in Mr. Crawley's
arm-chair, and waited patiently till the letter should be finished.
But Mrs. Crawley was there, and of course he was bound to speak to
her. In what strain could he do so? Even he, little as he was given
to indulge in sentiment, had been touched by the man's appeal to his
own poverty, and he felt, moreover, that Mrs. Crawley must have been
deeply moved by her husband's position with reference to the bishop's
order. It was quite out of the question that he should speak of that,
as Mr. Crawley would, he was well aware, immediately turn upon him.
At last he thought of a subject, and spoke with a voice intended to
be pleasant. "That was the school-house I passed, probably, just as I
came here?" Mrs. Crawley told him that it was the school-house. "Ah,
yes, I thought so. Have you a certified teacher here?" Mrs. Crawley
explained that no Government aid had ever reached Hogglestock.
Besides themselves, they had only a young woman whom they themselves
had instructed. "Ah, that is a pity," said Mr. Thumble.
"I,--I am the certified teacher," said Mr. Crawley, turning round
upon him from his chair.
"Oh, ah, yes," said Mr. Thumble; and after that Mr. Thumble asked
no more questions about the Hogglestock school. Soon afterwards Mrs.
Crawley left the room, seeing the difficulty under which Mr. Thumble
was labouring, and feeling sure that her presence would not now be
necessary. Mr. Crawley's letter was written quickly, though every now
and then he would sit for a moment with his pen poised in the air,
searching his memory for a word. But the words came to him easily,
and before an hour was over he had handed his letter to Mr. Thumble.
The letter was as follows:--
The Parsonage, Hogglestock, Dec. 186--.
RIGHT REVEREND LORD,
I have received the letter of yesterday's date which your
lordship has done me the honour of sending to me by the
hands of the Reverend Mr. Thumble, and I avail myself of
that gentleman's kindness to return to you an answer by
the same means, moved thus to use his patience chiefly
by the consideration that in this way my reply to your
lordship's injunctions may be in your hands with less
delay than would attend the regular course of the
mail-post.
It is with deep regret that I feel myself constrained to
inform your lordship that I cannot obey the command which
you have laid upon me with reference to the services of my
church in this parish. I cannot permit Mr. Thumble, or any
other delegate from your lordship, to usurp my place in my
pulpit. I would not have you to think, if I can possibly
dispel such thoughts from your mind, that I disregard your
high office, or that I am deficient in that respectful
obedience to the bishop set over me, which is due to the
authority of the Crown as the head of the church in these
realms; but in this, as in all questions of obedience, he
who is required to obey must examine the extent of the
authority exercised by him who demands obedience. Your
lordship might possibly call upon me, using your voice as
bishop of the diocese, to abandon altogether the freehold
rights which are now mine in this perpetual curacy. The
judge of assize, before whom I shall soon stand for my
trial, might command me to retire to prison without a
verdict given by the jury. The magistrates who committed
me so lately as yesterday, upon whose decision in that
respect your lordship has taken action against me so
quickly, might have equally strained their authority. But
in no case, in this land, is he that is subject bound
to obey, further than where the law gives authority and
exacts obedience. It is not in the power of the Crown
itself to inhibit me from the performance of my ordinary
duties in this parish by any such missive as that sent to
me by your lordship. If your lordship think it right to
stop my mouth as a clergyman in your diocese, you must
proceed to do so in an ecclesiastical court in accordance
with the laws, and will succeed in your object, or fail,
in accordance with the evidences as to ministerial fitness
or unfitness, which may be produced respecting me before
the proper tribunal.
I will allow that much attention is due from a clergyman
to pastoral advice given to him by his bishop. On that
head I must first express to your lordship my full
understanding that your letter has not been intended to
convey advice, but an order;--an inhibition, as your
messenger, the Reverend Mr. Thumble, has expressed it.
There might be a case certainly in which I should submit
myself to counsel, though I should resist command. No
counsel, however, has been given,--except indeed that I
should receive your messenger in a proper spirit, which
I hope I have done. No other advice has been given me,
and therefore there is now no such case as that I have
imagined. But in this matter, my lord, I could not have
accepted advice from living man, no, not though the
hands of the apostles themselves had made him bishop
who tendered it to me, and had set him over me for my
guidance. I am in a terrible strait. Trouble, and sorrow,
and danger are upon me and mine. It may well be, as your
lordship says, that the bitter waters of the present
hour may pass over my head and destroy me. I thank
your lordship for telling me whither I am to look for
assistance. Truly I know not whether there is any to be
found for me on earth. But the deeper my troubles, the
greater my sorrow, the more pressing my danger, the
stronger is my need that I should carry myself in these
days with that outward respect of self which will teach
those around me to know that, let who will condemn me, I
have not condemned myself. Were I to abandon my pulpit,
unless forced to do so by legal means, I should in doing
so be putting a plea of guilty against myself upon the
record. This, my lord, I will not do.
I have the honour to be, my lord,
Your lordship's most obedient servant,
JOSIAH CRAWLEY.
When he had finished writing his letter he read it over slowly, and
then handed it to Mr. Thumble. The act of writing, and the current of
the thoughts through his brain, and the feeling that in every word
written he was getting the better of the bishop,--all this joined to
a certain manly delight in warfare against authority, lighted up the
man's face and gave to his eyes an expression which had been long
wanting to them. His wife at that moment came into the room and he
looked at her with an air of triumph as he handed the letter to Mr.
Thumble. "If you will give that to his lordship with an assurance
of my duty to his lordship in all things proper, I will thank you
kindly, craving your pardon for the great delay to which you have
been subjected."
"As to the delay, that is nothing," said Mr. Thumble.
"It has been much; but you as a clergyman will feel that it has been
incumbent on me to speak my mind fully."
"Oh, yes; of course." Mr. Crawley was standing up, as also was Mrs.
Crawley. It was evident to Mr. Thumble that they both expected that
he should go. But he had been specially enjoined to be firm, and he
doubted whether hitherto he had been firm enough. As far as this
morning's work had as yet gone, it seemed to him that Mr. Crawley had
had the play all to himself, and that he, Mr. Thumble, had not had
his innings. He, from the palace, had been, as it were, cowed by this
man, who had been forced to plead his own poverty. It was certainly
incumbent upon him, before he went, to speak up, not only for the
bishop, but for himself also. "Mr. Crawley," he said, "hitherto I
have listened to you patiently."
"Nay," said Mr. Crawley, smiling, "you have indeed been patient, and
I thank you; but my words have been written, not spoken."
"You have told me that you intend to disobey the bishop's
inhibition."
"I have told the bishop so certainly."
"May I ask you now to listen to me for a few minutes?"
Mr. Crawley, still smiling, still having in his eyes the unwonted
triumph which had lighted them up, paused a moment, and then answered
him. "Reverend sir, you must excuse me if I say no,--not on this
subject."
"You will not let me speak?"
"No; not on this matter, which is very private to me. What should
you think if I went into your house and inquired of you as to those
things which were particularly near to you?"
"But the bishop sent me."
"Though ten bishops had sent me,--a council of archbishops if you
will!" Mr. Thumble started back, appalled at the energy of the words
used to him. "Shall a man have nothing of his own;--no sorrow in his
heart, no care in his family, no thought in his breast so private and
special to him, but that, if he happen to be a clergyman, the bishop
may touch it with his thumb?"
"I am not the bishop's thumb," said Mr. Thumble, drawing himself up.
"I intended not to hint anything personally objectionable to
yourself. I will regard you as one of the angels of the church." Mr.
Thumble, when he heard this, began to be sure that Mr. Crawley was
mad; he knew of no angels that could ride about the Barsetshire lanes
on grey ponies. "And as such I will respect you; but I cannot discuss
with you the matter of the bishop's message."
"Oh, very well. I will tell his lordship."
"I will pray you to do so."
"And his lordship, should he so decide, will arm me with such power
on my next coming as will enable me to carry out his lordship's
wishes."
"His lordship will abide by the law, as will you also." In speaking
these last words he stood with the door in his hand, and Mr. Thumble,
not knowing how to increase or even to maintain his firmness, thought
it best to pass out, and mount his grey pony and ride away.
"The poor man thought that you were laughing at him when you called
him an angel of the church," said Mrs. Crawley, coming up to him and
smiling on him.
"Had I told him he was simply a messenger, he would have taken it
worse;--poor fool! When they have rid themselves of me they may put
him here, in my church; but not yet,--not yet. Where is Jane? Tell
her that I am ready to commence the Seven against Thebes with her."
Then Jane was immediately sent for out of the school, and the Seven
against Thebes was commenced with great energy. Often during the next
hour and a half Mrs. Crawley from the kitchen would hear him reading
out, or rather saying by rote, with sonorous, rolling voice, great
passages from some chorus, and she was very thankful to the bishop
who had sent over to them a message and a messenger which had been
so salutary in their effect upon her husband. "In truth an angel of
the church," she said to herself as she chopped up the onions for
the mutton-broth; and ever afterwards she regarded Mr. Thumble as an
"angel."