A MORNING VISIT
It was known that Dr Proudie would immediately have to reappoint to
the wardenship of the hospital under the act of Parliament to which
allusion has been made; but no one imagined that any choice was
left to him--no one for a moment thought that he could appoint any
other than Mr Harding. Mr Harding himself, when he heard how the
matter had been settled, without troubling himself much on the
subject, considered it as certain that he would go back to his
pleasant house and garden. And though there would be much that was
melancholy, nay, almost heartrending, in such a return, he still
was glad that it was to be so. His daughter might probably be
persuaded to return there with him. She had, indeed, all but
promised to do so, though she still entertained an idea that the
greatest of mortals, that important atom of humanity, that little
god upon earth, Johnny Bold her baby, ought to have a house of his
own over his head.
Such being the state of Mr Harding's mind in the matter, he did not
feel any peculiar personal interest in the appointment of Dr
Proudie to the bishopric. He, as well as others at Barchester,
regretted that a man should be sent among them who, they were
aware, was not of their way of thinking; but Mr Harding himself was
not a bigoted man on points of church doctrine, and he was quite
prepared to welcome Dr Proudie to Barchester in a graceful and
becoming manner. He had nothing to seek and nothing to fear; he
felt that it behoved him to be on good terms with his bishop, and
he did not anticipate any obstacle that would prevent it.
In such a frame of mind he proceeded to pay his respects at the
palace the second day after the arrival of the bishop and his
chaplain. But he did not go alone. Dr Grantly proposed to accompany
him, and Mr Harding was not sorry to have a companion, who would
remove from his shoulders the burden of conversation in such an
interview. In the affair of the consecration of Dr Grantly had been
introduced to the bishop, and Mr Harding had also been there. He
had, however, kept himself in the background, and he was now to be
presented to the great man for the first time.
The archdeacon's feelings were of a much stronger nature. He was
not exactly the man to overlook his own slighted claims, or to
forgive the preference shown to another. Dr Proudie was playing
Venus to his Juno, and he was prepared to wage an internecine war
against the owner of the wished for apple, and all his satellites
private chaplains, and others.
Nevertheless, it behoved him also to conduct himself towards the
intruder as an old archdeacon should conduct himself to an incoming
bishop; and though he was well aware of all Dr Proudie's abominable
opinions as regarded dissenters, church reform, the hebdomadal
council, and such like; though he disliked the man, and hated the
doctrines, still he was prepared to show respect to the station of
the bishop. So he and Mr Harding called together at the palace.
His lordship was at home, and the two visitors were shown through
the accustomed hall into the well-known room, where the good old
bishop used to sit. The furniture had been bought at a valuation,
and every chair and table, every bookshelf against the wall, and
every square in the carpet, was as well known to each of them as
their own bedrooms. Nevertheless they at once felt that they were
strangers there. The furniture was for the most part the same, yet
the place had been metamorphosed. A new sofa had been introduced,
and horrid chintz affair, most unprelatical and almost irreligious;
such a sofa as never yet stood in the study of any decent high
church clergyman of the Church of England. The old curtains had
also given away. They had, to be sure, become dingy, and that which
had been originally a rich and goodly ruby had degenerated into a
reddish brown. Mr Harding, however, thought the old reddish brown
much preferable to the gaudy buff-coloured trumpery moreen which
Mrs Proudie had deemed good enough for her husband's own room in
the provincial city of Barchester.
Our friends found Dr Proudie sitting on the old bishop's chair,
looking very nice in his new apron; they found, too, Mr Slope
standing on the hearthrug, persuasive and eager, just as the
archdeacon used to stand; but on the sofa they also found Mrs
Proudie, an innovation for which a precedent might be in vain be
sought in all the annals of the Barchester bishopric!
There she was, however, and they could only make the best of her.
The introductions were gone through in much form. The archdeacon
shook hands with the bishop and named Mr Harding, who received such
an amount of greeting as was due from a bishop to a precentor. His
lordship then presented them to his lady wife; the archdeacon
first, with archidiaconal honours, and then the precentor with
diminished parade. After this Mr Slope presented himself. The
bishop, it is true, did mention his name, and so did Mrs Proudie
too, in a louder tone; but Mr Slope took it upon himself the chief
burden of his own introduction. He had great pleasure in making
himself acquainted with Dr Grantly; he had heard much of the
archdeacon's good works in that part of the diocese in which his
duties as archdeacon had been exercised (thus purposely ignoring
the archdeacon's hitherto unlimited dominion over the diocese at
large). He was aware that his lordship depended greatly on the
assistance which Dr Grantly would be able to give him in that
portion of the diocese. He then thrust out his hand, and grasping
that of his new foe, bedewed it unmercifully. Dr Grantly in return
bowed, looked stiff, contracted his eyebrows, and wiped his hand
with his pocket-handkerchief. Nothing abashed, Mr Slope then
noticed the precentor, and descended to the grade of the lower
clergy. He gave him a squeeze of the hand, damp indeed, but
affectionate, and was very glad to make the acquaintance of Mr -;
oh, yes, Mr Harding; he had not exactly caught the name--
'Precentor in the cathedral' surmised Mr Slope. Mr Harding
confessed that such was the humble sphere of his work. 'Some parish
duties as well,' suggested Mr Slope. Mr Harding acknowledged the
diminutive incumbency of St Cuthbert's. Mr Slope then left him
alone, having condescended sufficiently, and joined the
conversation among the higher powers.
There were four persons there, each of whom considered himself the
most important personage in the diocese; himself indeed, or
herself, as Mrs Proudie was one of them; and with such a difference
of opinion it was not probable that they would get on pleasantly
together. The bishop himself actually wore the visible apron, and
trusted mainly to that--to that and to his title, both being facts
which could not be overlooked. The archdeacon knew his subject, and
really understood the business of bishoping, which the others did
not; and this was his strong ground. Mrs Proudie had her sex to
back her, and her habit of command, and was nothing daunted by the
high tone of Dr Grantly's face and figure. Mr Slope had only
himself and his own courage and tact to depend on, but he
nevertheless was perfectly self-assured, and did not doubt but that
he should soon get the better of weak men who trusted so much to
externals, as both bishop and archdeacon appeared to do.
'Do you reside in Barchester, Dr Grantly?' asked the lady with the
sweetest smile.
Dr Grantly explained that he lived in his own parish of Plumstead
Episcopi, a few miles out of the city. Whereupon the lady hoped
that the distance was not too great for country visiting, as she
would be so glad to make the acquaintance of Mrs Grantly. She would
take the earliest opportunity, after the arrival of her horses at
Barchester; their horses were at present in London; their horses
were not immediately coming down, as the bishop would be obliged in
a few days, to return to town. Dr Grantly was no doubt aware that
the bishop was at present much called upon by the 'University
Improvement Committee': indeed, the Committee could not well
proceed without him, as their final report had now to be drawn up.
The bishop had also to prepare a scheme for the 'Manufacturing
Towns Morning and Evening Sunday School Society', of which he was a
patron, or president, or director, and therefore the horses would
not come down to Barchester at present; but whenever the horses did
come down, she would take the earliest opportunity of calling at
Plumstead Episcopi, providing the distance was not too great for
country visiting.
The archdeacon made his fifth bow: he had made one at each mention
of the horses; and promised that Mrs Grantly would do herself the
honour of calling at the palace on an early day. Mrs Proudie
declared that she would be delighted: she hadn't liked to ask, not
being quite sure whether Mrs Grantly had horses; besides, the
distance might have been &c, &c.
Dr Grantly again bowed, but said nothing. He could have bought
every single individual possession of the whole family of the
Proudies, and have restored them as a gift, without much feeling
the loss; and had kept a separate pair of horses for the exclusive
use of his wife since the day of their marriage; whereas Mrs
Proudie had been hitherto jobbed about the streets of London at so
much a month during the season; and at other times had managed to
walk, or hire a smart fly from the livery stables.
'Are the arrangements with reference to the Sabbath-day schools
generally pretty good in your archdeaconry?'
'Sabbath-day schools!' repeated the archdeacon with an affectation
of surprise. 'Upon my word, I can't tell; it depends mainly on the
parson's wife and daughters. There is none at Plumstead.'
This was almost a fib on the part of the Archdeacon, for Mrs
Grantly has a very nice school. To be sure it is not a Sunday
School exclusively, and is not so designated; but that exemplary
lady always attends there an hour before church, and hears the
children say their catechism, and sees that they are clean and tidy
for church, with their hands washed, and their shoes tied; and
Grisel and Florinda, her daughters, carry thither a basket of large
buns, baked on the Saturday afternoon, and distribute them to all
the children not especially under disgrace, which buns are carried
home after church with considerable content, and eaten hot at tea,
being then split and toasted. The children of Plumstead would
indeed open their eyes if they heard their venerated pastor declare
that there were no Sunday schools in the parish.
Mr Slope merely opened his eyes wider, and slightly shrugged his
shoulders. He was not, however, prepared to give up his darling
project.
'I fear there is a great deal of Sabbath travelling here,' said he,
'on looking at the 'Bradshaw', I see that there are three trains in
and three trains out every Sabbath. Could nothing be done to induce
the company to withdraw them? Don't you think, Dr Grantly, that a
little energy might diminish the evil?'
'Not being a director, I really can't say. But if you can withdraw
the passengers, their company, I dare say, will withdraw the
trains,' said the doctor. 'It's merely a question of dividends.'
'But surely, Dr Grantly,' said the lady, 'surely we should look at
it differently. You and I, for instance, in our position: surely we
should do all that we can to control so grievous a sin. Don't you
think so, Mr Harding?' and she turned to the precentor, who was
sitting mute and unhappy.
Mr Harding thought that all porters and stokers, guards, breaksmen,
pointsmen ought to have an opportunity of going to church, and he
hoped that they all had.
'But surely, surely,' continued Mrs Proudie, 'surely that is not
enough. Surely that will not secure such an observance of the
Sabbath as we are taught to conceive is not only expedient by
indispensable; surely--'
Come what come might, Dr Grantly was not to be forced into a
dissertation on a point of doctrine with Mrs Proudie, nor yet with
Mr Slope; so without much ceremony he turned his back upon the
sofa, and began to hope that Dr Proudie had found the palace
repairs had been such as to meet his wishes.
'Yes, yes,' said his lordship; upon the whole he thought so--upon
the whole, he didn't know that there was much ground for complaint;
the architect, perhaps, might have--but his double, Mr Slope, who
had sidled over to the bishop's chair, would not allow his lordship
to finish his ambiguous speech.
'There is one point I would like to mention, Mr Archdeacon. His
lordship asked me to step through the premises, and I see that the
stalls in the second stable are not perfect.'
'Why--there's standing for a dozen horses,'said the archdeacon.
'Perhaps so,' said the other; 'indeed, I've no doubt of it; but
visitors, you know, often require so much accommodation. There are
many of the bishop's relatives who always bring their own horses.'
Dr Grantly promised that due provision for the relatives' horses
should be made, as far at least as the extent of the original
stable building would allow. He would himself communicate with the
architect.
'And the coach-house, Dr Grantly,' continued Mr Slope; 'there is
really hardly any room for a second carriage in the large
coach-house, and the smaller one, of course, holds only one.'
'And the gas,' chimed in the lady; 'there is no gas through the
house, none whatever, but in the kitchen and passages. Surely the
palace should have been fitted through with pipes for gas, and hot
water too. There is no hot water laid on anywhere above the ground
floor. Surely there should be the means of getting hot water in the
bed-rooms without having it brought in jugs from the kitchen.'
The bishop had a decided opinion that there should be pipes for hot
water. Hot water was very essential for the comfort of the palace.
It was, indeed, a requisite in any decent gentleman's house.
Mr Slope had remarked that the coping on the garden wall was in
many places imperfect.
Mrs Proudie had discovered a large hole, evidently the work of
rats, in the servants' hall.
The bishop expressed an utter detestation of rats. There was
nothing, he believed, in this world, that he so much hated as a
rat.
Mr Slope had, moreover, observed that the locks of the out-houses
were very imperfect: he might specify the coal-cellar, and the
wood-house.
Mrs Proudie had also seen that those on the doors of the servants'
bedrooms were in an equally bad condition; indeed the locks all
through the house were old-fashioned and unserviceable.
The bishop thought that a great deal depended on a good lock, and
quite as much on the key. He had observed that the fault very often
lay with the key, especially if the wards were in any way twisted.
Mr Slope was going on with his catalogue of grievances, when he was
somewhat loudly interrupted by the archdeacon who succeeded in
explaining that the diocesan architect, or rather his foreman, was
the person to be addressed on such subjects; and that he, Dr
Grantly, had inquired as to the comfort of the palace, merely as a
point of compliment. He was very sorry, however, that so many
things had been found amiss: and then he rose from his chair to
escape.
Mrs Proudie, though she had contrived to lend her assistance in
recapitulating the palatial dilapidations, had not on that account
given up her hold of Mr Harding, nor ceased from her
cross-examination as the iniquity of Sabbatical amusements. Over
and over again had she thrown out her 'surely, surely,' at Mr
Harding's devoted head, and ill had that gentleman been able to
parry the attack.
He had never before found himself subjected to such a nuisance.
Ladies hitherto, when they had consulted him on religious subjects,
had listened to what he might choose to say with some deference,
and had differed, it they differed, in silence. But Mrs Proudie
interrogated him, and then lectured. 'Neither thou, nor thy son,
nor thy daughter, nor thy man servant, nor thy maid servant,' said
she, impressively, and more than once, as though Mr Harding had
forgotten the words. She shook her finger at him as she quoted the
favourite law, as though menacing him with punishment; and then
called upon him categorically to state whether he did not think
that travelling on the Sabbath was an abomination and a
desecration.
Mr Harding had never been so hard pressed in his life. He felt that
he ought to rebuke the lady for presuming so to talk to a gentleman
and a clergyman so may years her senior; but he recoiled from the
idea of scolding the bishop's wife, in the bishop's presence, on
his first visit to the palace; moreover, to tell the truth, he was
somewhat afraid of her. She, seeing him sit silent and absorbed, by
no means refrained from the attack.
'I hope, Mr Harding,' said she, shaking her head slowly and
solemnly, 'I hope you will not leave me to think that you approve
of Sabbath travelling,' and she looked a look of unutterable
meaning into his eyes.
There was no standing for this, for Mr Slope was now looking at
him, and so was the bishop, and so was the archdeacon, who had
completed his adieux on that side of the room. Mr Harding therefore
got up also, and putting out his hand to Mrs Proudie, said: 'If you
will come to St Cuthbert's some Sunday, I will preach you a sermon
on the subject.'
And so the archdeacon and the precentor took their departure,
bowing low to the lady, shaking hands with the lord, and escaping
from Mr Slope in the best manner each could. Mr Harding was again
maltreated; but Dr Grantly swore deeply in the bottom of his heart,
that no earthly consideration should ever again induce him to touch
the paw of that impure and filthy animal.
And now, had I the pen of a might poet, would I sing in epic verse
the noble wrath of the archdeacon. The palace steps descend to a
broad gravel sweep, from whence a small gate opens out into the
street, very near the covered gateway leading to the close. The
road from the palace door turns to the left, through the spacious
gardens, and terminates on the London-road, half a mile from the
cathedral.
Till they had passed this small gate and entered the close, neither
of them spoke a word; but the precentor clearly saw from his
companion's face that a tornado was to be expected, nor was he
himself inclined to stop it. Though, by nature far less irritable
than the archdeacon, even he was angry: he even--that mild and
courteous man--was inclined to express himself in anything but
courteous terms.