With this the letters ended. From the undergraduates Foley had heard how
Sutton tried to study history, but failed rather badly in it. What had
happened afterwards he had not heard, save by vague report. He only knew
that Sutton was still in Oxford.
But no wonder he had stayed there, Foley thought, remembering the
passion for the place that breathed in Sutton's letters, his growing
preoccupation with, and interest in, everything that was ecclesiastical
and ancient. Indeed, the beauty and antiquity of Oxford, the libraries
and cloisters and old places he haunted, now seemed to have grown into
an almost necessary part of the American's environment, the needful
background of his life. As if, like old Anthony à Wood, one could not
imagine him living anywhere except in Oxford, walking through its almost
doorless streets, or on the lawns of its College gardens, and ordering
his studies and ways by the sound of its bells. Why then should he not
stay there; was it anything more than a false conscience that had made
him feel he ought to go back to America?
The next morning, as if in answer to this question, Foley received an
unexpected visit from Abel, Dr. Joseph's assistant. He had come, he
said, to find out where Sutton was; they were a good deal worried about
him; they must be allowed to see him again before he took any step.
Foley was greatly surprised at the way Abel spoke; he knew nothing of
the American's whereabouts, he said; they had told him at his lodgings
the night before that he was away from Oxford.
"Yes, I know, I saw your card there. But I supposed you would know where
he has gone, or would be willing to tell me how I could find out. We
have heard again from America, and really, for your own sakes you must
allow us to see him once."
With still greater astonishment Foley protested that he knew nothing; he
had feared Sutton might be in trouble, but having just returned, after
two years abroad, he had no idea of what the trouble was. His assurances
were so evidently sincere, that Abel, who had looked at him suspiciously
at first, now shut the door and came forward into the room. The trouble
was that Sutton had absolutely refused to go back to America. They might
have known it would happen, he added; and, in answer to a question of
Foley's, he gave his version of all that had occurred.
Sutton had come to Oxford with a letter from Dr. Turnpenny, his pastor
and guardian, requesting Dr. Joseph to see that he should live under
some kind of care and protection. Dr. Joseph, as their own buildings
were not yet finished, had arranged with the Warden of St. Mary's that
the young man should enter that College and live there, while he
carried on his theological work with his own tutors.
It was a mistake; Abel had thought it a mistake all along. With another
man it might not have mattered; but Sutton, thrown into the society of
rich young men, who had no sympathy with his ideas, and who ridiculed
his ways, had not been able to withstand their influence. And just when
he was on the point of ordination, he had thrown it all over; said he no
longer believed in Methodism, or wished to be a minister. He had stayed
for another year in Oxford, studying, or pretending to study, history;
but he could not have worked very seriously; the examiners said, indeed,
that his papers were full of the most absurd ideas. And now he refused
to go back to America at all. Abel didn't know who it was who had tried
to pervert him; it was reported to be the Jesuits--and there was a man
called Gerard, Sir Philip Gerard--; but at any rate they ought to know
what trouble they had made.
Foley said he was certain there had been no deliberate attempt to
pervert Sutton. If any of his friends had tried to influence him, it was
probably because they believed in culture, and thought it would help him
in his work.
"Help him to be a minister out in Indiana! How could the ideas of a
narrow university set and its expensive tastes help a man for that?"
"But everyone surely was the better for being cultivated!" Foley
exclaimed.
Even to this Abel could not agree entirely; he admitted that of course
culture had its charm and value; only in cases it might be dangerous, he
thought. But how could that be? Foley asked, and for a moment, in their
discussion of the larger question, they almost forgot Sutton. Abel
thought that an undue cultivation of taste, of the sense of beauty,
without an equal training of the reason, would make you into a narrow
and fastidious person, judging things by the eyes and ears, and caring
only for what was well-expressed and beautiful. And surely for the most
part, he said, (and he seemed anxious to be fair and moderate,) for the
most part it was the ideals of the past, the out-worn, romantic, and
old-fashioned things, that had had time to be well-expressed, while the
modern--"But all this has very little to do with Sutton!" he said,
stopping suddenly.
"Oh, I don't know, isn't he the kind of person you mean--a sensitive
poetic person--"
"Eliaphet Sutton! he never wrote poetry, did he?"
"No, I don't mean exactly that. Only it seems to me natural enough that
a man of his temperament, coming to Oxford from an ugly new town,
should not want to go back."
"Temperament!" Abel exclaimed, as if the word annoyed him. Then more
quietly he added that he did not think anything could excuse Sutton for
behaving in the way he had behaved. Why he himself had come to Oxford
from a new town that was probably as ugly as Parnassus City. They were
angry enough in Parnassus, you couldn't talk of temperaments out there!
It had really broken Dr. Turnpenny's heart. "If you could only see his
letters! No, after spending all the old man's money--"
"His money?" Foley asked.
"Yes, didn't you know? He was sent over on a subscription got up by the
Methodist church there, and Dr. Turnpenny, who had adopted him and
brought him up, gave all his savings. He was to go back of course, and
help support Dr. Turnpenny. He was engaged to a girl out there too. And
now he says he won't go back. But really he must, it doesn't matter what
he says. It's the only honest and decent thing for him to do."
"Indeed he must go back," exclaimed Foley. "I hadn't the least idea!--"