The Rev William Ingelow, Doctor of Divinity of the University of
Oxford, had, at the time our story opens, held the living of
Wandsborough about fifteen years.
On the face of the foregoing chapter, it is needless to explain that Dr
Ingelow was a very "advanced" Anglican indeed. He was even too advanced
for the bulk of his clerical brethren of his own way of thinking, who
were wont to shake their heads while declaring confidentially among
themselves that "Ingelow went too far," and was likely to do more harm
than good to "the Cause" by going to such "extremes" and so forth. He
was a regular Romaniser, they declared. Instead of trying to
re-Catholicise the Church on good old Anglican lines, he boldly adopted
Roman ceremonial in every particular. And his teaching--that, too, was
far too outspoken. Invocation, auricular confession, and the like, he
taught too openly. English people were not quite prepared to swallow
pills of this nature without such a coating of silver leaf as would
completely and effectually disguise the salutary medicine within.
Ingelow was an admirable parish priest in every way--but--a Romaniser.
Thus his clerical brethren.
But the rector only laughed good-naturedly to himself. He candidly
admitted the terrible impeachment--even owning that his sympathies,
liturgical and disciplinary, were entirely with the enactments which
proceeded from the City on the Seven Hills. Liturgical matters in the
Church of England had been handed down to them in a state of
hotch-potch, and the "restoration on good old Anglican lines" theory of
his Ritualist brethren meant every man doing what was right in his own
eyes. There must be some rule in these matters, argued the rector. The
"Roman Use" was the rule of Western Christendom. Moreover it was
teachable, fairly simple, dignified and impressive, he declared.
Therefore he carried it out in its entirety in his fine parish church
and was in every way satisfied with the result. His colleagues would
fain have followed his example, but lacked the courage of their
convictions--Anglican clergymen not uncommonly do. So they continued to
shake their heads and declare oracularly that "Ingelow went too far."
Wandsborough Church was old, but in extremely good preservation; a few
timely restorations carried out under the _aegis_ of its present
incumbent had consolidated this, and at the time of our story it was one
of the finest parish churches in the land. The beautiful spire boasted
a full peal of bells, whose cheery carillon could be heard for miles
around, and every few hours would ring forth a sacred tune which,
floating melodiously out over the pleasant downs, might on a still night
even reach vessels passing far out at sea. The interior of the building
was metamorphosed in a trice beneath the new rector's reforming hand.
An imposing altar raised on many steps, and decked with tall candles and
shining crucifix and rich draperies, took the place of the old
trestle-board table with its worn-out baize cloth. The old-fashioned
"three-decker" gave way to a fine piece of sculpture and marble, and the
bi-weekly humdrum parson-and-clerk duet found itself disestablished to
make way for a daily chanted office rendered by rows of surpliced and
carefully trained choristers in the carved chancel stalls. The chief
service on Sundays and festivals was literally High Mass, being a
judicious compound of the Book of Common Prayer and translations from
the Missal; and on any day and every day the ringing of handbells and
the gleam of lights at the side altars in the early morning told that
the rector and his assistants were diligent in the execution of their
daily offices. Lamps burned before shrine and saint; the pictured
"Stations of the Cross" decked the walls, and altogether it was perhaps
little to be wondered at that the Doctor's clerical brethren looked
askew, and asserted that "Ingelow went too far."
Now all this was not carried without considerable opposition. There was
a hubbub, of course. The parish raved about "the restoration of
Popery." The rector smiled and alluded suavely to "a reversion to first
principles." The parish protested--fumed--threatened. A section of it
growled, and stayed away; a larger section growled, but continued to
attend. The bulk of it, however, ceased to growl, for it discovered
that there was, on the whole, nothing so very terrible about all this;
then it entered heartily, and with not a little enthusiasm, into the new
order of things.
Apart from any intrinsic merit underlying the new system there were many
causes at work, all gravitating towards its general acceptance. The
rector was wealthy, and did a great deal for the town. He was very
popular and very persuasive, and it would be a mere question of time to
carry the greater portion of his flock with him. He was a resolute
man--not obstinate, simply determined--and where principle was involved
he was adamant. Other considerations carried him through. Apart from
his reputation for learning--though this involved a wide and general
knowledge rather than erudition in any particular branch--he was a man
of considerable means, and was open-handed to a fault. The other was
his enormous personal popularity, for he was the most kind-hearted and
genial of men. He had the same sunny smile, the same cheerful greeting,
for those whom he knew to be in opposition to him--for those who went to
chapel, and for those who went nowhere. So he was on all sides voted a
"good fellow," "the right sort," "a charming man," or "a perfect
gentleman," according to the station in life or the sex of his admirers.
A cheerful disposition, like a Grecian nose, is a natural gift, and not
cultivable at will--all solemn old cant to the contrary notwithstanding.
Given the constitution of an elephant, the physique of a gladiator, the
absence of positive knowledge as to the location of a liver; added to
absolute freedom from all possibility of pecuniary care, and a
thoroughly congenial profession, and it is manifest that if a man is not
cheerfully disposed, he deserves to be hung without delay. But where
the rector of Wandsborough differed from other lucky ones blessed with
these advantages, was that he was perfectly sympathetic towards those
who enjoyed them not, and therein lay the merit of his own cheerfulness.
He thoroughly understood human nature. In his younger days he had been
a great traveller, having devoted several years to nothing but seeing
the world, and deferring to take holy orders until considerably later
than most men who enter the clerical state. And the knowledge thus
gained of men and manners in varying climes had stood him in good stead,
and not least in acting as a counterpoise to a narrow and professional
tendency, almost inseparable from "the cloth" in a greater or less
degree. And this he himself was the first to own. At the time our
story opens, he had turned his sixtieth year; but, on the principle of a
man being no older than he feels, Dr Ingelow was wont to consider
himself still in the prime of life.
His family relations were of the happiest kind. His children adored
him--the three girls whose acquaintance we have just made, and his only
son Eustace, a fine young fellow of twenty, now in his third term at
Oxford. Left a widower at the birth of h's youngest girl, Dr Ingelow
had come to Wandsborough two years later, and sought solace in his
bereavement in thus throwing himself into an entirely new field of
labour. What was wanting in a mother's care for the younger children
was as nearly as possible supplied by Margaret, the eldest, who was so
helpful, so thoughtful beyond her years, that it had never even entered
her father's head to import any such lame makeshift as an aunt or a
governess into the family circle. Rumour whispered that more than one
of the fair--whether maid or widow--in Wandsborough and its
neighbourhood would gladly have consoled the rector for his earlier
loss, but, if so, much disappointment wae unwittingly scattered by him
among the gentle aspirants; or if any such stray whisper reached his
ears he would laugh good-naturedly to himself over the absurdity of the
idea; for, as things stood, there were few happier homes than
Wandsborough Rectory.