_The Moving Spirit_
So Mr. Trimblerigg went to college to learn tribal divinity as falsely
taught by the Free Evangelicals; and his Uncle Phineas paid for it.
He went there as a True Believer; and his fellow-students viewed with
wonder so coming-on a disposition confined to so strait and narrow an
interpretation of things spiritual. For at that time a great wave of
Liberalism had entered the larger bodies of the Free Church Movement,
and the Free Evangelicals led the way. They had even gone so far as
to admit women students to their University and to its theological
studies, though not of course to the ministry; and because of this and
similar tendencies, the wider and easier interpretation of Scripture
concerned them greatly.
In this large and tolerant atmosphere, where modernism was beginning
to lift its head, Mr. Trimblerigg stood all alone. It was a challenge
that delighted him. He had no illusions as to the lack of a future
outlook afforded by adherence to the strict tenets of True Belief: but
he had the sense to realize that what a student believes, or thinks he
believes, in his teens under the unavoidable influence of the parental
upbringing, matters nothing to his future career. Only when he comes
to man’s estate, and the full and free possession of his faculties do
his opinions and pronouncements begin to measure his qualification
for advancement. In the meantime he could sharpen his wits, acquire
knowledge, and develop his resources for dialectic and for oratory
just as well by maintaining the improbable side of the argument as
the probable; what better test indeed for his powers? Convictions
could come later, what he wanted now was training; and though as yet
unconvinced himself, he might on the way convince others, if only a
few, even of the truth of tenets which he meant presently to discard.
There were three hundred students at the college, fifty of them women,
and he himself the only ‘True Believer,’ with the additional drawback
that in most of the points distinguishing his branch of the Free Church
body from others he did not truly believe. Yet he never doubted that in
free debate he could profess a belief that would sound plausible, and
put up at least an attractive fight even though eventual defeat awaited
him.
But though his calculating mind gave a silver lining to the cloud which
hung over him, it was, I maintain, an act of courage when he stepped
so buoyantly into the arena to face a three-years’ process of defeat,
and by defeat to learn the ways of victory. And though presently the
buffetings which he had to endure were tremendous, he was able in
letters, and in conversation when he went home, to convey to his uncle
the impression that True Belief was not only holding its own, but
winning its way in the strongholds of infidelity. Had he not already
made converts, for proof? Three of the students, two male, one female,
had become True Believers.
One day he brought them over and exhibited them to his uncle, and
when his uncle had examined them thoroughly in their new-found faith
his trust in Mr. Trimblerigg became almost complete. But still not
quite. Uncle Phineas was a cautious character, and not for nothing had
caution, assisted by revelation, been his companion for eighty-four
years.
It was at this time that he re-made his will, re-made it in a curious
way and let the family know of it. He executed two wills on the same
day with the same witnesses; and laying both by, waited for time to
decide which of the two should survive him.
‘I have great hopes of you, Jonathan,’ he said. ‘I’m watching you,
often when you don’t think; and when I’m not quite clear in my own mind
the Book tells me.’
That was Uncle Phineas’s strong point in his reading of character:
the Book could not lead him astray. It was upon that point that Mr.
Trimblerigg felt himself most vulnerable. He might trace and traverse
to stand in his uncle’s good graces, he might abundantly deserve his
confidence and all that should go with it or follow from it after his
death; but nothing that he could do would prevent the Book opening in
the wrong place at the last critical moment, or prevent Phineas from
believing that whatever it then told him was true.
And so though Mr. Trimblerigg did in those three years by all his
contemporary acts if not by his calculations, deserve that his uncle
should think well of him, he could never be quite sure.
During his second year he heard from Davidina that she had fallen
out of her uncle’s favour,--an event which, having the two wills in
mind he did not disapprove; but when he heard later that a hitherto
unconsidered great-niece had appeared upon the scene and was keeping
house for his uncle, his mind grew troubled. This was a cousin whom he
had never seen, named Caroline; the circumstance that she had lately
become an orphan made her available as a house-companion for one who,
needing an arm to lean on, did not yet require a nurse. She was older
than Jonathan by three years, and had managed from her mother’s side to
be of fair complexion.
Davidina nicknamed her ‘the dream-cow’; and when Mr. Trimblerigg saw
her for the first time on his return home during vacation he had to
admit that the name suited. She was a large creamy creature, slightly
mottled with edges of pink; vague, equable, good-tempered, taking
things as they came; rather stupid to talk to, but not uncomely to look
upon.
As he gazed on her at their first meeting, Mr. Trimblerigg’s
calculating mind got ahead of him before he could prevent; and ‘Shall
I have to marry her?’ was the thought which suddenly presented itself.
With equal suddenness came another, ‘If I do, what will Isabel Sparling
say? There’ll be trouble.’
Isabel Sparling was the woman student whom he had converted to True
Belief; and the conversion had been of an emotional character.
She was an ardent believer in the ministry of women, and having the
prophetess of Scripture upon her side--Huldah the prophetess who dwelt
in the college at Jerusalem for one, as Mr. Trimblerigg was quick to
remember--had no difficulty in persuading him that the ministry of
women was compatible with ‘True Belief.’
Mr. Trimblerigg had seized on it, indeed, with avidity as a forward
point for him to score in discussions which forced him generally to
take the reactionary line. There was also among True Believers a
more obvious opening for women than elsewhere. The ministry of the
connection was diminishing together with its funds; and there does
come a point, in spiritual work as well as industry, when what cannot
support a man will support a woman. In exchange, therefore, for the
allegiance of a new convert for theological debates which left him
so often in a minority of one, Mr. Trimblerigg blithely gave in his
adherence to the ministry of women; and in the College debate on the
subject, which took place in his second year, they won an unexpected
victory, all but three of the women students, and more than a third of
the men students voting in the affirmative.
It is symptomatic, however, that of this particular victory over the
powers of evil Mr. Trimblerigg said not a word to his Uncle Phineas.
It was a point over which he apprehended that True Believers of the
older school might differ from the new. Uncle Phineas, sedentary in
a small hill-side village and a chapel of which he himself was the
proprietor, was scarcely in a position to appreciate the claim of
women to spiritual equality; in the field of politics Mr. Trimblerigg
knew that he was decisively against them; nor was Cousin Caroline, his
house-companion, the sort of person to suggest a quiver of revolt.
And so, while pledged to Isabel Sparling and her fellow-aspirants to
become their champion when membership of the Synod should give him a
voice, Mr. Trimblerigg for the present allowed the question to sleep.
In his own time and in his own way he would make it his policy, but not
probably so long as his Uncle Phineas was alive, and his own financial
future unassured. He must first himself become a minister.
It was during his third vacation that Uncle Phineas showed faith, by an
overt sign, in his future qualification for the calling. Jonathan was
invited, at the next Wednesday meeting, to put up a prayer, and give
an address. The invitation was made on the Sunday, giving him half a
week’s notice; and announcement was made to the congregation.
Local interest in the preaching ability of Mr. Trimblerigg had already
been roused. Word had come down from College that in the debates
he had become a shining light, and there was regret among the Free
Evangelicals that the burning oratory of which he gave promise should
become the exclusive possession of the narrowest and most disunited
connection in the union of the Free Churches. In the course of the next
two days many told him that they were coming to hear him.
This helped to make the occasion important; for if he could fill the
chapel and continue filling it on future occasions, Uncle Phineas’s
recognition of his vocation would become more assured. Mr. Trimblerigg
was now eighteen, his uncle was eighty-six; and he could not regard
as unpropitious this timing by Providence of their respective lives.
Two or three more years in the propaganda of True Belief would not
unduly hold up a career for which wider spheres were waiting. Suppose
he could, for a couple of years or so, kindle True Believers into new
life, make himself indispensable: and then--!
He began to see why possibly he had been called to devote himself
temporarily to so narrow a field of service. If he could come bringing
his sheaves with him, he would count in the Evangelical world more than
if he had merely started as one among many, with no spiritual adventure
to single him from the crowd.
Thus his sanguine mind addressed itself to Wednesday’s meeting and the
possibilities which lay beyond.
It would be doing him an injustice to say that, in regarding the
occasion as propitious, he did not also regard it as a solemn one. He
made preparation for it--I might indeed say that we made preparation
for it together--with frequency and assiduity; and what I was supposed
to hear for the first time on Wednesday evening, I heard in various
stages of development more times than a few, during the two days
preceding. Davidina, it appeared, heard it also: not, I think, by
a wilful listening at keyholes, but with a general awareness that
rehearsals were taking place. She paid him the compliment of coming to
hear ‘how he got on’, which was her matter-of-fact way of putting it.
All the rest of the family did the same: the meeting was well attended.
Mr. Trimblerigg, in spite, or perhaps because, of previous rehearsal,
managed to deliver himself with a great air of spontaneity. He got to
the point when he knew that he was making a success of it, and was then
sufficiently moved and uplifted to launch out into parentheses which
were not only unpremeditated but quite happily expressed.
People pray in different ways; some moan, some become tremulous, some
voluble, some halting and inarticulate, some repeat themselves many
times as though they suspected one of inattention to their requests.
There are very few who say what they want to say in the fewest possible
words. I wish they did.
Mr. Trimblerigg was not one of the few; but his prayer had undeniable
merit; it was quick, spirited, cheerful, a little shrill and high-flown
in a few of its passages, and in its peroration there was a touch of
poetry. He said yea, several times instead of yes; a trick which later
grew into a habit whenever poetry was his aim; but in spite of small
drawbacks it was a highly creditable performance well-pleasing to both
of us; and that it was so Mr. Trimblerigg knew as well as I or anyone
else.
At the porch-gathering afterwards many praised him; Uncle Phineas had
said little, not praising him at all, but Jonathan had been told that
he might take Wednesday meeting till further notice. Cousin Caroline
had looked at him with her mild dewy eyes, saying nothing but meaning
much, as much, at least, as so indeterminate a character could mean.
Only Davidina, impenetrable of look, gave him no inkling of what was in
her mind.
On the way home, in order to show a proper attitude of detachment from
praise for a gift that was spiritual, and perhaps also indifference
to her blighting silence, Mr. Trimblerigg inquired airily what they
were going to have for supper; whereupon Davidina replied in a dry
indifferent tone: ‘Same as we’ve just had in chapel, bubble-and-squeak
warmed up again.’
It was the sort of thing to which there was no answer; it was true,
yet it was so unjust; no doubt she intended it for his soul’s health,
but can anything so cruel be also sanitary? ‘Bubble-and-squeak,’ he
could not fail to see, in caricature, the likeness to his ebullient
enthusiasm which had so moved and uplifted the hearts of his hearers,
his own also; and as he let the wound go home he felt (without
counting) how many times he could have killed her!
And yet, if I can see truly into Davidina’s mind, all that she meant
was that Jonathan’s prayers would be made much better by his not
preparing them.
I am not sure that she was right; I have heard both; and I do not think
that there was much to choose. Prepared and unprepared alike they
always moved his audiences more than they moved me.