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diff --git a/14739-h/14739-h.htm b/14739-h/14739-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d4a6055 --- /dev/null +++ b/14739-h/14739-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15904 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Altar Steps, by Compton Mackenzie. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .poem span.i15 {display: block; margin-left: 15em;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } +.nind {text-indent:0%;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;margin-top:2%;margin-bottom:2%;} + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;margin-top:2%;margin-bottom:2%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; left: 12%; text-align: left;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14739 ***</div> + +<h1>THE ALTAR STEPS</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>COMPTON MACKENZIE</h2> + +<div class="center"><span><i>Author of "Carnival," "Youth's Encounter," +"Poor Relations," etc.</i></span></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="center"><span>NEW YORK</span><br /> +<span>GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY</span><br /> +<span>1922</span></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><span><i>The only portrait in this book is +of one who is now dead</i></span></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><span>THIS BOOK, THE PRELUDE TO</span><br /> +<span><i>The Parson's Progress</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span>I INSCRIBE</span><br /> +<span>WITH DEEPEST AFFECTION</span><br /> +<span>TO MY MOTHER</span><br /> +<br /> +<span><i>S. Valentine's Day, 1922.</i></span></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS" />CONTENTS</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I</a></td><td align='left'>The Bishop's Shadow</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II</a></td><td align='left'>The Lima Street Mission</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III</a></td><td align='left'>Religious Education</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV</a></td><td align='left'>Husband and Wife</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V</a></td><td align='left'>Palm Sunday</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI</a></td><td align='left'>Nancepean</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII</a></td><td align='left'>Life at Nancepean</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII</a></td><td align='left'>The Wreck</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX</a></td><td align='left'>Slowbridge</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X</a></td><td align='left'>Whit-Sunday</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI</a></td><td align='left'>Meade Cantorum</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII</a></td><td align='left'>The Pomeroy Affair</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII</a></td><td align='left'>Wych-on-the-Wold</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV</a></td><td align='left'>St. Mark's Day</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV</a></td><td align='left'>The Scholarship</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI</a></td><td align='left'>Chatsea</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII</a></td><td align='left'>The Drunken Priest</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII</a></td><td align='left'>Silchester College Mission</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX</a></td><td align='left'>The Altar for the Dead</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX</a></td><td align='left'>Father Rowley</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI</a></td><td align='left'>Points of View</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII</a></td><td align='left'>Sister Esther Magdalene</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII</a></td><td align='left'>Malford Abbey</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV</a></td><td align='left'>The Order of St. George</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV</a></td><td align='left'>Suscipe Me, Domine</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI</a></td><td align='left'>Addition</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII</a></td><td align='left'>Multiplication</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII</a></td><td align='left'> Division</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX</a></td><td align='left'>Subtraction</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX</a></td><td align='left'>The New Bishop of Silchester</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI</a></td><td align='left'>Silchester Theological College</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII</a></td><td align='left'>Ember Days</td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_ALTAR_STEPS" id="THE_ALTAR_STEPS" />THE ALTAR STEPS</h2> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I" />CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE BISHOP'S SHADOW</h3> + + +<p>Frightened by some alarm of sleep that was forgotten +in the moment of waking, a little boy threw back the +bedclothes and with quick heart and breath sat listening to +the torrents of darkness that went rolling by. He dared +not open his mouth to scream lest he should be suffocated; +he dared not put out his arm to search for the bell-rope lest +he should be seized; he dared not hide beneath the blankets +lest he should be kept there; he could do nothing except sit +up trembling in a vain effort to orientate himself. Had the +room really turned upside down? On an impulse of terror +he jumped back from the engorging night and bumped his +forehead on one of the brass knobs of the bedstead. With +horror he apprehended that what he had so often feared +had finally come to pass. An earthquake had swallowed up +London in spite of everybody's assurance that London could +not be swallowed up by earthquakes. He was going down +down to smoke and fire . . . or was it the end of the +world? The quick and the dead . . . skeletons . . . thousands +and thousands of skeletons. . . .</p> + +<p>"Guardian Angel!" he shrieked.</p> + +<p>Now surely that Guardian Angel so often conjured must +appear. A shaft of golden candlelight flickered through the +half open door. The little boy prepared an attitude to greet +his Angel that was a compound of the suspicion and courtesy +with which he would have welcomed a new governess and +the admiring fellowship with which he would have thrown +a piece of bread to a swan.</p> + +<p>"Are you awake, Mark?" he heard his mother whisper +outside.</p> + +<p>He answered with a cry of exultation and relief.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mother," he sighed, clinging to the soft sleeves of +her dressing-gown. "I thought it was being the end of the +world."</p> + +<p>"What made you think that, my precious?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I just woke up, and the room was upside +down. And first I thought it was an earthquake, and then +I thought it was the Day of Judgment." He suddenly began +to chuckle to himself. "How silly of me, Mother. Of course +it couldn't be the Day of Judgment, because it's night, isn't +it? It couldn't ever be the Day of Judgment in the night, +could it?" he continued hopefully.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lidderdale did not hesitate to reassure her small son +on this point. She had no wish to add another to that long +list of nightly fears and fantasies which began with mad dogs +and culminated in the Prince of Darkness himself.</p> + +<p>"The room looks quite safe now, doesn't it?" Mark +theorized.</p> + +<p>"It is quite safe, darling."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I could have the gas lighted when you really +<i>must</i> go?"</p> + +<p>"Just a little bit for once."</p> + +<p>"Only a little bit?" he echoed doubtfully. A very small +illumination was in its eerie effect almost worse than absolute +darkness.</p> + +<p>"It isn't healthy to sleep with a great deal of light," said +his mother.</p> + +<p>"Well, how much could I have? Just for once not a +crocus, but a tulip. And of course not a violet."</p> + +<p>Mark always thought of the gas-jets as flowers. The +dimmest of all was the violet; followed by the crocus, the +tulip, and the water-lily; the last a brilliant affair with wavy +edges, and sparkling motes dancing about in the blue water +on which it swam.</p> + +<p>"No, no, dearest boy. You really can't have as much as +that. And now snuggle down and go to sleep again. I +wonder what made you wake up?"</p> + +<p>Mark seized upon this splendid excuse to detain his mother +for awhile.</p> + +<p>"Well, it wasn't ergzackly a dream," he began to improvise. +"Because I was awake. And I heard a terrible plump +and I said 'what can that be?' and then I was frightened +and. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Yes, well, my sweetheart, you must tell Mother in the morning."</p> + +<p>Mark perceived that he had been too slow in working up +to his crisis and desperately he sought for something to arrest +the attention of his beloved audience.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps my Guardian Angel was beside me all the time, +because, look! here's a feather."</p> + +<p>He eyed his mother, hoping against hope that she would +pretend to accept his suggestion; but alas, she was severely +unimaginative.</p> + +<p>"Now, darling, don't talk foolishly. You know perfectly +that is only a feather which has worked its way out of your pillow."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>The monosyllable had served Mark well in its time; but +even as he fell back upon this stale resource he knew it had +failed at last.</p> + +<p>"I can't stay to explain 'why' now; but if you try to think +you'll understand why."</p> + +<p>"Mother, if I don't have any gas at all, will you sit with me +in the dark for a little while, a tiny little while, and stroke +my forehead where I bumped it on the knob of the bed? I +really did bump it quite hard—I forgot to tell you that. I +forgot to tell you because when it was you I was so excited +that I forgot."</p> + +<p>"Now listen, Mark. Mother wants you to be a very good +boy and turn over and go to sleep. Father is very worried +and very tired, and the Bishop is coming tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"Will he wear a hat like the Bishop who came last Easter? +Why is he coming?"</p> + +<p>"No darling, he's not that kind of bishop. I can't explain +to you why he's coming, because you wouldn't understand; +but we're all very anxious, and you must be good and brave +and unselfish. Now kiss me and turn over."</p> + +<p>Mark flung his arms round his mother's neck, and thrilled +by a sudden desire to sacrifice himself murmured that he +would go to sleep in the dark.</p> + +<p>"In the quite dark," he offered, dipping down under the +clothes so as to be safe by the time the protecting candle-light +wavered out along the passage and the soft closing of his +mother's door assured him that come what might there was +only a wall between him and her.</p> + +<p>"And perhaps she won't go to sleep before I go to sleep," +he hoped.</p> + +<p>At first Mark meditated upon bishops. The perversity of +night thoughts would not allow him to meditate upon the +pictures of some child-loving bishop like St. Nicolas, but +must needs fix his contemplation upon a certain Bishop of +Bingen who was eaten by rats. Mark could not remember +why he was eaten by rats, but he could with dreadful distinctness +remember that the prelate escaped to a castle on +an island in the middle of the Rhine, and that the rats swam +after him and swarmed in by every window until his castle +was—ugh!—Mark tried to banish from his mind the picture +of the wicked Bishop Hatto and the rats, millions of them, +just going to eat him up. Suppose a lot of rats came swarming +up Notting Hill and unanimously turned to the right into +Notting Dale and ate him? An earthquake would be better +than that. Mark began to feel thoroughly frightened again; +he wondered if he dared call out to his mother and put +forward the theory that there actually was a rat in his room. +But he had promised her to be brave and unselfish, and +. . . there was always the evening hymn to fall back upon.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>Now the day is over,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Night is drawing nigh,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Shadows of the evening</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Steal across the sky.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mark thought of a beautiful evening in the country as +beheld in a Summer Number, more of an afternoon really +than an evening, with trees making shadows right across a +golden field, and spotted cows in the foreground. It was a +blissful and completely soothing picture while it lasted; but +it soon died away, and he was back in the midway of a +London night with icy stretches of sheet to right and left +of him instead of golden fields.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>Now the darkness gathers,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Stars begin to peep,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Birds and beasts and flowers</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Soon will be asleep</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But rats did not sleep; they were at their worst and wake-fullest +in the night time.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>Jesu, give the weary</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Calm and sweet repose,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>With thy tenderest blessing</i><br /></span> +<span><i>May mine eyelids close</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mark waited a full five seconds in the hope that he need +not finish the hymn; but when he found that he was not +asleep after five seconds he resumed:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>Grant to little children</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Visions bright of Thee;</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Guard the sailors tossing</i><br /></span> +<span><i>On the deep blue sea.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mark envied the sailors.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>Comfort every sufferer</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Watching late in pain</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This was a most encouraging couplet. Mark did not +suppose that in the event of a great emergency—he thanked +Mrs. Ewing for that long and descriptive word—the sufferers +would be able to do much for him; but the consciousness +that all round him in the great city they were lying awake at +this moment was most helpful. At this point he once more +waited five seconds for sleep to arrive. The next couplet +was less encouraging, and he would have been glad to miss +it out.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>Those who plan some evil</i><br /></span> +<span><i>From their sin restrain.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Yes, but prayers were not always answered immediately. +For instance he was still awake. He hurried on to murmur +aloud in fervour:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>Through the long night watches</i><br /></span> +<span><i>May Thine Angels spread</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Their white wings above me,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Watching round my bed.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A delicious idea, and even more delicious was the picture +contained in the next verse.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>When the morning wakens,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Then may I arise</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Pure, and fresh, and sinless</i><br /></span> +<span><i>In Thy Holy Eyes.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>Glory to the Father,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Glory to the Son,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>And to thee, blest Spirit,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Whilst all ages run. Amen.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mark murmured the last verse with special reverence in +the hope that by doing so he should obtain a speedy granting +of the various requests in the earlier part of the hymn.</p> + +<p>In the morning his mother put out Sunday clothes for him.</p> + +<p>"The Bishop is coming to-day," she explained.</p> + +<p>"But it isn't going to be like Sunday?" Mark inquired +anxiously. An extra Sunday on top of such a night would +have been hard to bear.</p> + +<p>"No, but I want you to look nice."</p> + +<p>"I can play with my soldiers?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you can play with your soldiers."</p> + +<p>"I won't bang, I'll only have them marching."</p> + +<p>"No, dearest, don't bang. And when the Bishop comes +to lunch I want you not to ask questions. Will you promise +me that?"</p> + +<p>"Don't bishops like to be asked questions?"</p> + +<p>"No, darling. They don't."</p> + +<p>Mark registered this episcopal distaste in his memory +beside other facts such as that cats object to having their tails +pulled.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II" />CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>THE LIMA STREET MISSION</h3> + + +<p>In the year 1875, when the strife of ecclesiastical parties +was bitter and continuous, the Reverend James Lidderdale +came as curate to the large parish of St. Simon's, Notting +Hill, which at that period was looked upon as one of +the chief expositions of what Disraeli called "man-millinery." +Inasmuch as the coiner of the phrase was a Jew, the priests +and people of St. Simon's paid no attention to it, and were +proud to consider themselves an outpost of the Catholic +Movement in the Church of England. James Lidderdale +was given the charge of the Lima Street Mission, a +tabernacle of corrugated iron dedicated to St. Wilfred; and +Thurston, the Vicar of St. Simon's, who was a wise, generous +and single-hearted priest, was quick to recognize that his +missioner was capable of being left to convert the Notting +Dale slum in his own way.</p> + +<p>"If St. Simon's is an outpost of the Movement, Lidderdale +must be one of the vedettes," he used to declare with a grin.</p> + +<p>The Missioner was a tall hatchet-faced hollow-eyed +ascetic, harsh and bigoted in the company of his equals +whether clerical or lay, but with his flock tender and comprehending +and patient. The only indulgence he accorded +to his senses was in the forms and ceremonies of his ritual, +the vestments and furniture of his church. His vicar was +able to give him a free hand in the obscure squalor of Lima +Street; the ecclesiastical battles he himself had to fight with +bishops who were pained or with retired military men who +were disgusted by his own conduct of the services at St. +Simon's were not waged within the hearing of Lima Street. +There, year in, year out for six years, James Lidderdale +denied himself nothing in religion, in life everything. He +used to preach in the parish church during the penitential +seasons, and with such effect upon the pockets of his congregation +that the Lima Street Mission was rich for a long +while afterward. Yet few of the worshippers in the parish +church visited the object of their charity, and those that did +venture seldom came twice. Lidderdale did not consider +that it was part of the Lima Street religion to be polite to +well-dressed explorers of the slum; in fact he rather +encouraged Lima Street to suppose the contrary.</p> + +<p>"I don't like these dressed up women in my church," he +used to tell his vicar. "They distract my people's attention +from the altar."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I quite see your point," Thurston would agree.</p> + +<p>"And I don't like these churchy young fools who come +simpering down in top-hats, with rosaries hanging out of +their pockets. Lima Street doesn't like them either. Lima +Street is provoked to obscene comment, and that just before +Mass. It's no good, Vicar. My people are savages, and I +like them to remain savages so long as they go to their duties, +which Almighty God be thanked they do."</p> + +<p>On one occasion the Archdeacon, who had been paying an +official visit to St. Simon's, expressed a desire to see the Lima +Street Mission.</p> + +<p>"Of which I have heard great things, great things, Mr. +Thurston," he boomed condescendingly.</p> + +<p>The Vicar was doubtful of the impression that the Archdeacon's +gaiters would make on Lima Street, and he was +also doubtful of the impression that the images and prickets +of St. Wilfred's would make on the Archdeacon. The Vicar +need not have worried. Long before Lima Street was +reached, indeed, halfway down Strugwell Terrace, which +was the main road out of respectable Notting Hill into the +Mission area, the comments upon the Archdeacon's appearance +became so embarrassing that the dignitary looked at his +watch and remarked that after all he feared he should not be +able to spare the time that afternoon.</p> + +<p>"But I am surprised," he observed when his guide had +brought him safely back into Notting Hill. "I am surprised +that the people are still so uncouth. I had always understood +that a great work of purification had been effected, that in +fact—er—they were quite—er—cleaned up."</p> + +<p>"In body or soul?" Thurston inquired.</p> + +<p>"The whole district," said the Archdeacon vaguely. "I +was referring to the general tone, Mr. Thurston. One might +be pardoned for supposing that they had never seen a clergyman +before. Of course one is loath—very loath indeed—to +criticize sincere effort of any kind, but I think that perhaps +almost the chief value of the missions we have established +in these poverty-stricken areas lies in their capacity for +civilizing the poor people who inhabit them. One is so +anxious to bring into their drab lives a little light, a little air. +I am a great believer in education. Oh, yes, Mr. Thurston, +I have great hopes of popular education. However, as I +say, I should not dream of criticizing your work at St. +Wilfred's."</p> + +<p>"It is not my work. It is the work of one of my curates. +And," said the Vicar to Lidderdale, when he was giving him +an account of the projected visitation, "I believe the pompous +ass thought I was ashamed of it."</p> + +<p>Thurston died soon after this, and, his death occurring +at a moment when party strife in the Church was fiercer +than ever, it was considered expedient by the Lord Chancellor, +in whose gift the living was, to appoint a more +moderate man than the late vicar. Majendie, the new man, +when he was sure of his audience, claimed to be just as +advanced as Thurston; but he was ambitious of preferment, +or as he himself put it, he felt that, when a member of the +Catholic party had with the exercise of prudence and tact +an opportunity of enhancing the prestige of his party in a +higher ecclesiastical sphere, he should be wrong to neglect +it. Majendie's aim therefore was to avoid controversy with +his ecclesiastical superiors, and at a time when, as he told +Lidderdale, he was stepping back in order to jump farther, +he was anxious that his missioner should step back with +him.</p> + +<p>"I'm not suggesting, my dear fellow, that you should bring +St. Wilfred's actually into line with the parish church. But +the Asperges, you know. I can't countenance that. And +the Adoration of the Cross on Good Friday. I really think +that kind of thing creates unnecessary friction."</p> + +<p>Lidderdale's impulse was to resign at once, for he was a +man who found restraint galling where so much passion went +to his belief in the truth of his teaching. When, however, +he pondered how little he had done and how much he had +vowed to do, he gave way and agreed to step back with his +vicar. He was never convinced that he had taken the right +course at this crisis, and he spent hours in praying for an +answer by God to a question already answered by himself. +The added strain of these hours of prayer, which were not +robbed from his work in the Mission, but from the already +short enough time he allowed himself for sleep, told upon +his health, and he was ordered by the doctor to take a holiday +to avoid a complete breakdown of health. He stayed for +two months in Cornwall, and came back with a wife, the +daughter of a Cornish parson called Trehawke. Lidderdale +had been a fierce upholder of celibacy, and the news of his +marriage astonished all who knew him.</p> + +<p>Grace Lidderdale with her slanting sombre eyes and full +upcurving lips made the pink and white Madonnas of the +little mission church look insipid, and her husband was horrified +when he found himself criticizing the images whose +ability to lure the people of Lima Street to worship in the +way he believed to be best for their souls he had never +doubted. Yet, for all her air of having <i>trafficked for strange +webs with Eastern merchants</i>, Mrs. Lidderdale was only +outwardly Phoenician or Iberian or whatever other dimly +imagined race is chosen for the strange types that in Cornwall +more than elsewhere so often occur. Actually she was a +simple and devout soul, loving husband and child and the +poor people with whom they lived. Doubtless she had looked +more appropriate to her surroundings in the tangled garden +of her father's vicarage than in the bleak Mission House of +Lima Street; but inasmuch as she never thought about her +appearance it would have been a waste of time for anybody +to try to romanticize her. The civilizing effect of her presence +in the slum was quickly felt; and though Lidderdale +continued to scoff at the advantages of civilization, he finally +learnt to give a grudging welcome to her various schemes for +making the bodies of the flock as comfortable as her husband +tried to make their souls.</p> + +<p>When Mark was born, his father became once more the +prey of gloomy doubt. The guardianship of a soul which +he was responsible for bringing into the world was a ceaseless +care, and in his anxiety to dedicate his son to God he became +a harsh and unsympathetic parent. Out of that desire to +justify himself for having been so inconsistent as to take a +wife and beget a son Lidderdale redoubled his efforts to +put the Lima Street Mission on a permanent basis. The +civilization of the slum, which was attributed by pious +visitors to regular attendance at Mass rather than to +Mrs. Lidderdale's gentleness and charm, made it much easier +for outsiders to explore St. Simon's parish as far as Lima +Street. Money for the great church he designed to build on +a site adjoining the old tabernacle began to flow in; and +five years after his marriage Lidderdale had enough money +subscribed to begin to build. The rubbish-strewn waste-ground +overlooked by the back-windows of the Mission +House was thronged with workmen; day by day the walls of +the new St. Wilfred's rose higher. Fifteen years after Lidderdale +took charge of the Lima Street Mission, it was +decided to ask for St. Wilfred's, Notting Dale, to be created +a separate parish. The Reverend Aylmer Majendie had +become a canon residentiary of Chichester and had been +succeeded as vicar by the Reverend L. M. Astill, a man more +of the type of Thurston and only too anxious to help his +senior curate to become a vicar, and what is more cut £200 +a year off his own net income in doing so.</p> + +<p>But when the question arose of consecrating the new St. +Wilfred's in order to the creation of a new parish, the Bishop +asked many questions that were never asked about the Lima +Street Mission. There were Stations of the Cross reported +to be of an unusually idolatrous nature. There was a second +chapel apparently for the express purpose of worshipping +the Virgin Mary.</p> + +<p>"He writes to me as if he suspected me of trying to carry +on an intrigue with the Mother of God," cried Lidderdale +passionately to his vicar.</p> + +<p>"Steady, steady, dear man," said Astill. "You'll ruin your +case by such ill-considered exaggeration."</p> + +<p>"But, Vicar, these cursed bishops of the Establishment +who would rather a whole parish went to Hell than give up +one jot or one tittle of their prejudice!" Lidderdale ejaculated +in wrath.</p> + +<p>Furthermore, the Bishop wanted to know if the report +that on Good Friday was held a Roman Catholic Service +called the Mass of the Pre-Sanctified followed by the +ceremony of Creeping to the Cross was true. When +Majendie departed, the Lima Street Missioner jumped a +long way forward in one leap. There were many other +practices which he (the Bishop) could only characterize as +highly objectionable and quite contrary to the spirit of the +Church of England, and would Mr. Lidderdale pay him a +visit at Fulham Palace as soon as possible. Lidderdale went, +and he argued with the Bishop until the Chaplain thought +his Lordship had heard enough, after which the argument +was resumed by letter. Then Lidderdale was invited to +lunch at Fulham Palace and to argue the whole question +over again in person. In the end the Bishop was sufficiently +impressed by the Missioner's sincerity and zeal to agree to +withhold his decision until the Lord Bishop Suffragan of +Devizes had paid a visit to the proposed new parish. This +was the visit that was expected on the day after Mark Lidderdale +woke from a nightmare and dreamed that London +was being swallowed up by an earthquake.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III" />CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>RELIGIOUS EDUCATION</h3> + + +<p>When Mark was grown up and looked back at his early +childhood—he was seven years old in the year in +which his father was able to see the new St. Wilfred's an +edifice complete except for consecration—it seemed to him +that his education had centered in the prevention of his acquiring +a Cockney accent. This was his mother's dread and +for this reason he was not allowed to play more than Christian +equality demanded with the boys of Lima Street. Had his +mother had her way, he would never have been allowed to +play with them at all; but his father would sometimes break +out into fierce tirades against snobbery and hustle him out of +the house to amuse himself with half-a-dozen little girls +looking after a dozen babies in dilapidated perambulators, +and countless smaller boys and girls ragged and grubby and +mischievous.</p> + +<p>"You leave that kebbidge-stalk be, Elfie!"</p> + +<p>"Ethel! Jew hear your ma calling you, you naughty girl?"</p> + +<p>"Stanlee! will you give over fishing in that puddle, this +sminute. I'll give you such a slepping, you see if I don't."</p> + +<p>"Come here, Maybel, and let me blow your nose. Daisy +Hawkins, lend us your henkerchif, there's a love! Our +Maybel wants to blow her nose. Oo, she is a sight! Come +here, Maybel, do, and leave off sucking that orange peel. +There's the Father's little boy looking at you. Hold your +head up, do."</p> + +<p>Mark would stand gravely to attention while Mabel +Williams' toilet was adjusted, and as gravely follow the shrill +raucous procession to watch pavement games like Hop Scotch +or to help in gathering together enough sickly greenery from +the site of the new church to make the summer grotto, which +in Lima Street was a labour of love, since few of the passers +by in that neighbourhood could afford to remember St. James' +grotto with a careless penny.</p> + +<p>The fact that all the other little boys and girls called the +Missioner Father made it hard for Mark to understand his +own more particular relationship to him, and Lidderdale was +so much afraid of showing any more affection to one child +of his flock than to another that he was less genial with his +own son than with any of the other children. It was natural +that in these circumstances Mark should be even more dependent +than most solitary children upon his mother, and no +doubt it was through his passion to gratify her that he +managed to avoid that Cockney accent. His father wanted +his first religious instruction to be of the communal kind that +he provided in the Sunday School. One might have thought +that he distrusted his wife's orthodoxy, so strongly did he +disapprove of her teaching Mark by himself in the nursery.</p> + +<p>"It's the curse of the day," he used to assert, "this +pampering of children with an individual religion. They get +into the habit of thinking God is their special property and +when they get older and find he isn't, as often as not they +give up religion altogether, because it doesn't happen to fit +in with the spoilt notions they got hold of as infants."</p> + +<p>Mark's bringing up was the only thing in which Mrs. +Lidderdale did not give way to her husband. She was +determined that he should not have a Cockney accent, and +without irritating her husband any more than was inevitable +she was determined that he should not gobble down his +religion as a solid indigestible whole. On this point she even +went so far as directly to contradict the boy's father and +argue that an intelligent boy like Mark was likely to vomit +up such an indigestible whole later on, although she did not +make use of such a coarse expression.</p> + +<p>"All mothers think their sons are the cleverest in the +world."</p> + +<p>"But, James, he <i>is</i> an exceptionally clever little boy. Most +observant, with a splendid memory and plenty of +imagination."</p> + +<p>"Too much imagination. His nights are one long circus."</p> + +<p>"But, James, you yourself have insisted so often on the +personal Devil; you can't expect a little boy of Mark's sensitiveness +not to be impressed by your picture."</p> + +<p>"He has nothing to fear from the Devil, if he behaves +himself. Haven't I made that clear?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lidderdale sighed.</p> + +<p>"But, James dear, a child's mind is so literal, and though +I know you insist just as much on the reality of the Saints +and Angels, a child's mind is always most impressed by the +things that have power to frighten it."</p> + +<p>"I want him to be frightened by Evil," declared James. +"But go your own way. Soften down everything in our +Holy Religion that is ugly and difficult. Sentimentalize the +whole business. That's our modern method in everything."</p> + +<p>This was one of many arguments between husband and +wife about the religious education of their son.</p> + +<p>Luckily for Mark his father had too many children, real +children and grown up children, in the Mission to be able +to spend much time with his son; and the teaching of Sunday +morning, the clear-cut uncompromising statement of hard +religious facts in which the Missioner delighted, was considerably +toned down by his wife's gentle commentary.</p> + +<p>Mark's mother taught him that the desire of a bad boy +to be a good boy is a better thing than the goodness of a +Jack Horner. She taught him that God was not merely a +crotchety old gentleman reclining in a blue dressing-gown on +a mattress of cumulus, but that He was an Eye, an all-seeing +Eye, an Eye capable indeed of flashing with rage, yet so +rarely that whenever her little boy should imagine that Eye +he might behold it wet with tears.</p> + +<p>"But can God cry?" asked Mark incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, darling. God can do everything."</p> + +<p>"But fancy crying! If I could do everything I shouldn't +cry."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lidderdale perceived that her picture of the wise and +compassionate Eye would require elaboration.</p> + +<p>"But do you only cry, Mark dear, when you can't do what +you want? Those are not nice tears. Don't you ever cry +because you're sorry you've been disobedient?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so, Mother," Mark decided after a pause. +"No, I don't think I cry because I'm sorry except when you're +sorry, and that sometimes makes me cry. Not always, +though. Sometimes I'm glad you're sorry. I feel so angry +that I like to see you sad."</p> + +<p>"But you don't often feel like that?"</p> + +<p>"No, not often," he admitted.</p> + +<p>"But suppose you saw somebody being ill-treated, some +poor dog or cat being teased, wouldn't you feel inclined to +cry?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," Mark declared. "I get quite red inside of me, +and I want to kick the people who is doing it."</p> + +<p>"Well, now you can understand why God sometimes gets +angry. But even if He gets angry," Mrs. Lidderdale went +on, for she was rather afraid of her son's capacity for logic, +"God never lets His anger get the better of Him. He is not +only sorry for the poor dog, but He is also sorry for the +poor person who is ill-treating the dog. He knows that the +poor person has perhaps never been taught better, and then +the Eye fills with tears again."</p> + +<p>"I think I like Jesus better than God," said Mark, going +off at a tangent. He felt that there were too many points +of resemblance between his own father and God to make +it prudent to persevere with the discussion. On the subject +of his father he always found his mother strangely uncomprehending, +and the only times she was really angry with +him was when he refused out of his basic honesty to admit +that he loved his father.</p> + +<p>"But Our Lord <i>is</i> God," Mrs. Lidderdale protested.</p> + +<p>Mark wrinkled his face in an effort to confront once more +this eternal puzzle.</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember, darling, three Persons and one +God?"</p> + +<p>Mark sighed.</p> + +<p>"You haven't forgotten that clover-leaf we picked one day +in Kensington Gardens?"</p> + +<p>"When we fed the ducks on the Round Pond?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling, but don't think about ducks just now. I +want you to think about the Holy Trinity."</p> + +<p>"But I can't understand the Holy Trinity, Mother," he +protested.</p> + +<p>"Nobody can understand the Holy Trinity. It is a great +mystery."</p> + +<p>"Mystery," echoed Mark, taking pleasure in the word. +It always thrilled him, that word, ever since he first heard +it used by Dora the servant when she could not find her +rolling-pin.</p> + +<p>"Well, where that rolling-pin's got to is a mystery," she +had declared.</p> + +<p>Then he had seen the word in print. The Coram Street +Mystery. All about a dead body. He had pronounced it +"micetery" at first, until he had been corrected and was able +to identify the word as the one used by Dora about her +rolling-pin. History stood for the hard dull fact, and mystery +stood for all that history was not. There were no dates +in "mystery:" Mark even at seven years, such was the fate +of intelligent precocity, had already had to grapple with a +few conspicuous dates in the immense tale of humanity. +He knew for instance that William the Conqueror landed in +1066, and that St. Augustine landed in 596, and that Julius +Cæsar landed, but he could never remember exactly when. +The last time he was asked that date, he had countered with +a request to know when Noah had landed.</p> + +<p>"The Holy Trinity is a mystery."</p> + +<p>It belonged to the category of vanished rolling-pins and +dead bodies huddled up in dustbins: it had no date.</p> + +<p>But what Mark liked better than speculations upon the +nature of God were the tales that were told like fairy tales +without its seeming to matter whether you remembered them +or not, and which just because it did not matter you were +able to remember so much more easily. He could have +listened for ever to the story of the lupinseeds that rattled +in their pods when the donkey was trotting with the boy +Christ and His mother and St. Joseph far away from cruel +Herod into Egypt and how the noise of the rattling seeds +nearly betrayed their flight and how the plant was cursed +for evermore and made as hungry as a wolf. And the story +of how the robin tried to loosen one of the cruel nails so +that the blood from the poor Saviour drenched his breast +and stained it red for evermore, and of that other bird, the +crossbill, who pecked at the nails until his beak became +crossed. He could listen for ever to the tale of St. Cuthbert +who was fed by ravens, of St. Martin who cut off his cloak +and gave it to a beggar, of St. Anthony who preached to +the fishes, of St. Raymond who put up his cowl and floated +from Spain to Africa like a nautilus, of St. Nicolas who +raised three boys from the dead after they had been killed +and cut up and salted in a tub by a cruel man that wanted +to eat them, and of that strange insect called a Praying +Mantis which alighted upon St. Francis' sleeve and sang the +<i>Nunc Dimittis</i> before it flew away.</p> + +<p>These were all stories that made bedtime sweet, stories to +remember and brood upon gratefully in the darkness of the +night when he lay awake and when, alas, other stories less +pleasant to recall would obtrude themselves.</p> + +<p>Mark was not brought up luxuriously in the Lima Street +Mission House, and the scarcity of toys stimulated his +imagination. All his toys were old and broken, because he +was only allowed to have the toys left over at the annual +Christmas Tree in the Mission Hall; and since even the best +of toys on that tree were the cast-offs of rich little children +whose parents performed a vicarious act of charity in presenting +them to the poor, it may be understood that Mark's +share of these was not calculated to spoil him. His most +conspicuous toy was a box of mutilated grenadiers, whose +stands had been melted by their former owner in the first +rapture of discovering that lead melts in fire and who in +consequence were only able to stand up uncertainly when +stuck into sliced corks.</p> + +<p>Luckily Mark had better armies of his own in the coloured +lines that crossed the blankets of his bed. There marched +the crimson army of St. George, the blue army of St. +Andrew, the green army of St. Patrick, the yellow army of +St. David, the rich sunset-hued army of St. Denis, the striped +armies of St. Anthony and St. James. When he lay awake +in the golden light of the morning, as golden in Lima Street +as anywhere else, he felt ineffably protected by the Seven +Champions of Christendom; and sometimes even at night +he was able to think that with their bright battalions they +were still marching past. He used to lie awake, listening +to the sparrows and wondering what the country was like +and most of all the sea. His father would not let him go +into the country until he was considered old enough to go +with one of the annual school treats. His mother told him +that the country in Cornwall was infinitely more beautiful +than Kensington Gardens, and that compared with the sea +the Serpentine was nothing at all. The sea! He had heard +it once in a prickly shell, and it had sounded beautiful. As +for the country he had read a story by Mrs. Ewing called +<i>Our Field</i>, and if the country was the tiniest part as wonderful +as that, well . . . meanwhile Dora brought him back +from the greengrocer's a pot of musk, which Mark used to +sniff so enthusiastically that Dora said he would sniff it right +away if he wasn't careful. Later on when Lima Street was +fetid in the August sun he gave this pot of musk to a little +girl with a broken leg, and when she died in September her +mother put it on her grave.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV" />CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>HUSBAND AND WIFE</h3> + + +<p>Mark was impressed by the appearance of the Bishop of +Devizes; a portly courtly man, he brought to the +dingy little Mission House in Lima Street that very sense of +richness and grandeur which Mark had anticipated. The +Bishop's pink plump hands of which he made such use contrasted +with the lean, scratched, and grimy hands of his +father; the Bishop's hair white and glossy made his father's +bristly, badly cut hair look more bristly and worse cut than +ever, and the Bishop's voice ripe and unctuous grew more and +more mellow as his father's became harsher and more +assertive. Mark found himself thinking of some lines in +<i>The Jackdaw of Rheims</i> about a cake of soap worthy of +washing the hands of the Pope. The Pope would have hands +like the Bishop's, and Mark who had heard a great deal about +the Pope looked at the Bishop of Devizes with added +interest.</p> + +<p>"While we are at lunch, Mr. Lidderdale, you will I am +sure pardon me for referring again to our conversation of +this morning from another point of view—the point of view, +if I may use so crude an expression, the point of view of—er—expediency. +Is it wise?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not a wise man, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, my dear Mr. Lidderdale, but I have not +completed my question. Is it right? Is it right when you +have an opportunity to consolidate your great work . . . +I use the adjective advisedly and with no intention to flatter +you, for when I had the privilege this morning of accompanying +you round the beautiful edifice that has been by +your efforts, by your self-sacrifice, by your eloquence, and +by your devotion erected to the glory of God . . . I repeat, +Mr. Lidderdale, is it right to fling all this away for the sake +of a few—you will not misunderstand me—if I call them a +few excrescences?"</p> + +<p>The Bishop helped himself to the cauliflower and paused +to give his rhetoric time to work.</p> + +<p>"What you regard, my lord, as excrescences I regard as +fundamentals of our Holy Religion."</p> + +<p>"Come, come, Mr. Lidderdale," the Bishop protested. "I +do not think that you expect to convince me that a ceremony +like the—er—Asperges is a fundamental of Christianity."</p> + +<p>"I have taught my people that it is," said the Missioner. +"In these days when Bishops are found who will explain +away the Incarnation, the Atonement, the Resurrection of +the Body, I hope you'll forgive a humble parish priest who +will explain away nothing and who would rather resign, as +I told you this morning, than surrender a single one of these +excrescences."</p> + +<p>"I do not admit your indictment, your almost wholesale +indictment of the Anglican episcopate; but even were I to +admit at lunch that some of my brethren have been in their +anxiety to keep the Man in the Street from straying too far +from the Church, have been as I was saying a little too ready +to tolerate a certain latitude of belief, even as I said just now +were that so, I do not think that you have any cause to +suspect me of what I should repudiate as gross infidelity. It +was precisely because the Bishop of London supposed that +I should be more sympathetic with your ideals that he asked +me to represent him in this perfectly informal—er—"</p> + +<p>"Inquest," the Missioner supplied with a fierce smile.</p> + +<p>The Bishop encouraged by the first sign of humour he had +observed in the bigoted priest hastened to smile back.</p> + +<p>"Well, let us call it an inquest, but not, I hope, I sincerely +and devoutly hope, Mr. Lidderdale, not an inquest upon a +dead body." Then hurriedly he went on. "I may smile with +the lips, but believe me, my dear fellow labourer in the vineyard +of Our Lord Jesus Christ, believe me that my heart is +sore at the prospect of your resignation. And the Bishop of +London, if I have to go back to him with such news, will +be pained, bitterly grievously pained. He admires your work, +Mr. Lidderdale, as much as I do, and I have no doubt that +if it were not for the unhappy controversies that are tearing +asunder our National Church, I say I do not doubt that he +would give you a free hand. But how can he give you a +free hand when his own hands are tied by the necessities +of the situation? May I venture to observe that some of +you working priests are too ready to criticize men like myself +who from no desire of our own have been called by God +to occupy a loftier seat in the eyes of the world than many +men infinitely more worthy. But to return to the question +immediately before us, let me, my dear Mr. Lidderdale, do +let me make to you a personal appeal for moderation. If +you will only consent to abandon one or two—I will not say +excrescences since you object to the word—but if you will +only abandon one or two purely ceremonial additions that +cannot possibly be defended by any rubric in the Book of +Common Prayer, if you will only consent to do this the +Bishop of London will, I can guarantee, permit you a discretionary +latitude that he would scarcely be prepared to +allow to any other priest in his diocese. When I was called +to be Bishop Suffragan of Devizes, Mr. Lidderdale, do you +suppose that I did not give up something? Do you suppose +that I was anxious to abandon some of the riches to which +by my reading of the Ornaments Rubric we are entitled? +But I felt that I could do something to help the position of +my fellow priests struggling against the prejudice of +ignorance and the prey of political moves. In twenty years +from now, Mr. Lidderdale, you will be glad you took my +advice. Ceremonies that to-day are the privilege of the few +will then be the privilege of the many. Do not forget that +by what I might almost describe as the exorbitance of your +demands you have gained more freedom than any other priest +in England. Be moderate. Do not resign. You will be +inhibited in every diocese; you will have the millstone of an +unpaid debt round your neck; you are a married man."</p> + +<p>"That has nothing . . ." Lidderdale interrupted +angrily.</p> + +<p>"Pray let me finish. You are a married man, and if you +should seek consolation, where several of your fellow priests +have lately sought it, in the Church of Rome, you will have +to seek it as a layman. I do not pretend to know your private +affairs, and I should consider it impertinent if I tried to pry +into them at such a moment. But I do know your worth +as a priest, and I have no hesitation in begging you once +more with a heart almost too full for words to pause, Mr. +Lidderdale, to pause and reflect before you take the +irreparable step that you are contemplating. I have already +talked too much, and I see that your good wife is looking +anxiously at my plate. No more cauliflower, thank you, +Mrs. Lidderdale, no more of anything, thank you. Ah, there +is a pudding on the way? Dear me, that sounds very tempting, +I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>The Bishop now turned his attention entirely to Mrs. +Lidderdale at the other end of the table; the Missioner sat +biting his nails; and Mark wondered what all this +conversation was about.</p> + +<p>While the Bishop was waiting for his cab, which, he +explained to his hosts, was not so much a luxury as a necessity +owing to his having to address at three o'clock precisely +a committee of ladies who were meeting in Portman Square +to discuss the dreadful condition of the London streets, he +laid a fatherly arm on the Missioner's threadbare cassock.</p> + +<p>"Take two or three days to decide, my dear Mr. Lidderdale. +The Bishop of London, who is always consideration +personified, insisted that you were to take two or three days +to decide. Once more, for I hear my cab-wheels, once more +let me beg you to yield on the following points. Let me just +refer to my notes to be sure that I have not omitted anything +of importance. Oh, yes, the following points: no Asperges, +no unusual Good Friday services, except of course the Three +Hours. <i>Is</i> not that enough?"</p> + +<p>"The Three Hours I <i>would</i> give up. It's a modern +invention of the Jesuits. The Adoration of the Cross goes +back. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Please, please, Mr. Lidderdale, my cab is at the door. +We must not embark on controversy. No celebrations without +communicants. No direct invocation of the Blessed +Virgin Mary or the Saints. Oh, yes, and on this the Bishop +is particularly firm: no juggling with the <i>Gloria in Excelsis</i>. +Good-bye, Mr. Lidderdale, good-bye, Mrs. Lidderdale. +Many thanks for your delicious luncheon. Good-bye, young +man. I had a little boy like you once, but he is grown up +now, and I am glad to say a soldier."</p> + +<p>The Bishop waved his umbrella, which looked much like +a pastoral staff, and lightly mounted the step of his cab.</p> + +<p>"Was the Bishop cross with Father?" Mark inquired +afterward; he could find no other theory that would explain +so much talking to his father, so little talking by his father.</p> + +<p>"Dearest, I'd rather you didn't ask questions about the +Bishop," his mother replied, and discerning that she was on +the verge of one of those headaches that while they lasted +obliterated the world for Mark, he was silent. Later in the +afternoon Mr. Astill, the Vicar, came round to see the +Missioner and they had a long talk together, the murmur +of which now softer now louder was audible in Mark's +nursery where he was playing by himself with the cork-bottomed +grenadiers. His instinct was to play a quiet game, +partly on account of his mother's onrushing headache, which +had already driven her to her room, partly because he knew +that when his father was closeted like this it was essential +not to make the least noise. So he tiptoed about the room +and disposed the cork-bottomed grenadiers as sentinels +before the coal-scuttle, the washstand, and other similar +strongholds. Then he took his gun, the barrel of which, +broken before it was given to him, had been replaced by a +thin bamboo curtain-rod, and his finger on the trigger (a +wooden match) he waited for an invader. After ten minutes +of statuesque silence Mark began to think that this was a +dull game, and he wished that his mother had not gone to +her room with a headache, because if she had been with him +she could have undoubtedly invented, so clever was she, a +method of invading the nursery without either the attackers +or the defenders making any noise about it. In her gentle +voice she would have whispered of the hordes that were +stealthily creeping up the mountain side until Mark and his +vigilant cork-bottomed grenadiers would have been in a state +of suppressed exultation ready to die in defence of the +nursery, to die stolidly and silently at their posts with nobody +else in the house aware of their heroism.</p> + +<p>"Rorke's Drift," said Mark to himself, trying to fancy +that he heard in the distance a Zulu <i>impi</i> and whispering to +his cork-bottomed grenadiers to keep a good look-out. One +of them who was guarding the play-cupboard fell over on +his face, and in the stillness the noise sounded so loud that +Mark did not dare cross the room to put him up again, but +had to assume that he had been shot where he stood. It was +no use. The game was a failure; Mark decided to look at +<i>Battles of the British Army</i>. He knew the pictures in every +detail, and he could have recited without a mistake the few +lines of explanation at the bottom of each page; but the book +still possessed a capacity to thrill, and he turned over the +pages not pausing over Crecy or Poitiers or Blenheim or +Dettingen; but enjoying the storming of Badajoz with +soldiers impaled on <i>chevaux de frise</i> and lingering over the +rich uniforms and plumed helmets in the picture of Joseph +Bonaparte's flight at Vittoria. There was too a grim picture +of the Guards at Inkerman fighting in their greatcoats with +clubbed muskets against thousands of sinister dark green +Russians looming in the snow; and there was an attractive +picture of a regiment crossing the Alma and eating the grapes +as they clambered up the banks where they grew. Finally +there was the Redan, a mysterious wall, apparently of wickerwork, +with bombs bursting and broken scaling-ladders and +dead English soldiers in the open space before it.</p> + +<p>Mark did not feel that he wanted to look through the book +again, and he put it away, wondering how long that murmur +of voices rising and falling from his father's study below +would continue. He wondered whether Dora would be +annoyed if he went down to the kitchen. She had been +discouraging on the last two or three occasions he had visited +her, but that had been because he could not keep his fingers +out of the currants. Fancy having a large red jar crammed +full of currants on the floor of the larder and never wanting +to eat one! The thought of those currants produced in +Mark's mouth a craving for something sweet, and as quietly +as possible he stole off downstairs to quench this craving +somehow or other if it were only with a lump of sugar. But +when he reached the kitchen he found Dora in earnest talk +with two women in bonnets, who were nodding away and +clicking their tongues with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Now whatever do you want down here?" Dora demanded +ungraciously.</p> + +<p>"I wanted," Mark paused. He longed to say "some currants," +but he had failed before, and he substituted "a lump +of sugar." The two women in bonnets looked at him and +nodded their heads and clicked their tongues.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever?" said one.</p> + +<p>"Fancy! A lump of sugar! Goodness gracious!"</p> + +<p>"What a sweet tooth!" commented the first.</p> + +<p>The sugar happened to be close to Dora's hand on the +kitchen-table, and she gave him two lumps with the command +to "sugar off back upstairs as fast as you like." The craving +for sweetness was allayed; but when Mark had crunched up +the two lumps on the dark kitchen-stairs, he was as lonely +as he had been before he left the nursery. He wished now +that he had not eaten up the sugar so fast, that he had taken +it back with him to the nursery and eked it out to wile away +this endless afternoon. The prospect of going back to the +nursery depressed him; and he turned aside to linger in the +dining-room whence there was a view of Lima Street, down +which a dirty frayed man was wheeling a barrow and shouting +for housewives to bring out their old rags and bottles +and bones. Mark felt the thrill of trade and traffick, and +he longed to be big enough to open the window and call out +that he had several rags and bottles and bones to sell; but +instead he had to be content with watching two self-important +little girls chaffer on behalf of their mothers, and go off +counting their pennies. The voice of the rag-and-bone man, +grew fainter and fainter round corners out of sight; Lima +Street became as empty and uninteresting as the nursery. +Mark wished that a knife-grinder would come along and +that he would stop under the dining-room window so that +he could watch the sparks flying from the grindstone. Or +that a gipsy would sit down on the steps and begin to mend +the seat of a chair. Whenever he had seen those gipsy chair-menders +at work, he had been out of doors and afraid to +linger watching them in case he should be stolen and his +face stained with walnut juice and all his clothes taken away +from him. But from the security of the dining-room of +the Mission House he should enjoy watching them. However, +no gipsy came, nor anybody else except women with +men's caps pinned to their skimpy hair and little girls with +wrinkled stockings carrying jugs to and from the public +houses that stood at every corner.</p> + +<p>Mark turned away from the window and tried to think +of some game that could be played in the dining-room. But +it was not a room that fostered the imagination. The carpet +was so much worn that the pattern was now scarcely visible +and, looked one at it never so long and intently, it was +impossible to give it an inner life of its own that gradually +revealed itself to the fanciful observer. The sideboard had +nothing on it except a dirty cloth, a bottle of harvest +burgundy, and half a dozen forks and spoons. The cupboards +on either side contained nothing edible except salt, +pepper, mustard, vinegar, and oil. There was a plain deal +table without a drawer and without any interesting screws +and levers to make it grow smaller or larger at the will of +the creature who sat beneath it. The eight chairs were just +chairs; the wallpaper was like the inside of the bath, but +alas, without the water; of the two pictures, the one over +the mantelpiece was a steel-engraving of the Good Shepherd +and the one over the sideboard was an oleograph of the +Sacred Heart. Mark knew every fly speck on their glasses, +every discoloration of their margins. While he was sighing +over the sterility of the room, he heard the door of his +father's study open, and his father and Mr. Astill do down +the passage, both of them still talking unceasingly. Presently +the front door slammed, and Mark watched them walk +away in the direction of the new church. Here was an +opportunity to go into his father's study and look at some of +the books. Mark never went in when his father was there, +because once his mother had said to his father:</p> + +<p>"Why don't you have Mark to sit with you?"</p> + +<p>And his father had answered doubtfully:</p> + +<p>"Mark? Oh yes, he can come. But I hope he'll keep +quiet, because I shall be rather busy."</p> + +<p>Mark had felt a kind of hostility in his father's manner +which had chilled him; and after that, whenever his mother +used to suggest his going to sit quietly in the study, he had +always made some excuse not to go. But if his father was +out he used to like going in, because there were always books +lying about that were interesting to look at, and the smell +of tobacco smoke and leather bindings was grateful to the +senses. The room smelt even more strongly than usual of +tobacco smoke this afternoon, and Mark inhaled the air with +relish while he debated which of the many volumes he should +pore over. There was a large Bible with pictures of palm-trees +and camels and long-bearded patriarchs surrounded by +flocks of sheep, pictures of women with handkerchiefs over +their mouths drawing water from wells, of Daniel in the +den of lions and of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego in +the fiery furnace. The frontispiece was a coloured picture +of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden surrounded by +amiable lions, benevolent tigers, ingratiating bears and +leopards and wolves. But more interesting than the pictures +were some pages at the beginning on which, in oval spaces +framed in leaves and flowers, were written the names of +his grandfather and grandmother, of his father and of his +father's brother and sister, with the dates on which they +were born and baptized and confirmed. What a long time +ago his father was born! 1840. He asked his mother once +about this Uncle Henry and Aunt Helen; but she told him +they had quarrelled with his father, and she had said nothing +more about them. Mark had been struck by the notion +that grown-up people could quarrel: he had supposed +quarrelling to be peculiar to childhood. Further, he noticed +that Henry Lidderdale had married somebody called Ada +Prewbody who had died the same year; but nothing was +said in the oval that enshrined his father about his having +married anyone. He asked his mother the reason of this, +and she explained to him that the Bible had belonged to +his grandfather who had kept the entries up to date until he +died, when the Bible came to his eldest son who was Mark's +father.</p> + +<p>"Does it worry you, darling, that I'm not entered?" his +mother had asked with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, it does rather," Mark had replied, and then to his +great delight she took a pen and wrote that James Lidderdale +had married Grace Alethea Trehawke on June 28th, 1880, +at St. Tugdual's Church, Nancepean, Cornwall, and to his +even greater delight that on April 25th, 1881, Mark Lidderdale +had been born at 142 Lima Street, Notting Dale, +London, W., and baptized on May 21st, 1881, at St. +Wilfred's Mission Church, Lima Street.</p> + +<p>"Happy now?" she had asked.</p> + +<p>Mark had nodded, and from that moment, if he went into +his father's study, he always opened the Family Bible and +examined solemnly his own short history wreathed in forget-me-nots +and lilies of the valley.</p> + +<p>This afternoon, after looking as usual at the entry of his +birth and baptism written in his mother's pretty pointed +handwriting, he searched for Dante's <i>Inferno</i> illustrated +by Gustave Doré, a large copy of which had recently been +presented to his father by the Servers and Choir of St. +Wilfred's. The last time he had been looking at this volume +he had caught a glimpse of a lot of people buried in the +ground with only their heads sticking out, a most attractive +picture which he had only just discovered when he had heard +his father's footsteps and had closed the book in a hurry.</p> + +<p>Mark tried to find this picture, but the volume was large +and the pictures on the way of such fascination that it was +long before he found it. When he did, he thought it even +more satisfying at a second glance, although he wished he +knew what they were all doing buried in the ground like +that. Mark was not satisfied with horrors even after he +had gone right through the Dante; in fact, his appetite was +only whetted, and he turned with relish to a large folio of +Chinese tortures, in the coloured prints of which a feature +was made of blood profusely outpoured and richly tinted. +One picture of a Chinaman apparently impervious to the pain +of being slowly sawn in two held him entranced for five +minutes. It was growing dusk by now, and as it needed the +light of the window to bring out the full quality of the blood, +Mark carried over the big volume, propped it up in a chair +behind the curtains, and knelt down to gloat over these +remote oriental barbarities without pausing to remember +that his father might come back at any moment, and that +although he had never actually been forbidden to look at +this book, the thrill of something unlawful always brooded +over it. Suddenly the door of the study opened and Mark +sat transfixed by terror as completely as the Chinaman on +the page before him was transfixed by a sharpened bamboo; +then he heard his mother's voice, and before he could discover +himself a conversation between her and his father +had begun of which Mark understood enough to know that +both of them would be equally angry if they knew that he +was listening. Mark was not old enough to escape tactfully +from such a difficult situation, and the only thing he could +think of doing was to stay absolutely still in the hope that +they would presently go out of the room and never know +that he had been behind the curtain while they were +talking.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean you to dress yourself and come downstairs," +his father was saying ungraciously.</p> + +<p>"My dear, I should have come down to tea in any case, +and I was anxious to hear the result of your conversation +with Mr. Astill."</p> + +<p>"You can guess, can't you?" said the husband.</p> + +<p>Mark had heard his father speak angrily before; but he +had never heard his voice sound like a growl. He shrank +farther back in affright behind the curtains.</p> + +<p>"You're going to give way to the Bishop?" the wife asked +gently.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you've guessed, have you? You've guessed by my +manner? You've realized, I hope, what this resolution has +cost me and what it's going to cost me in the future. I'm +a coward. I'm a traitor. <i>Before the cock crow twice, thou +shalt deny me thrice.</i> A coward and a traitor."</p> + +<p>"Neither, James—at any rate to me."</p> + +<p>"To you," the husband scoffed. "I should hope not to +you, considering that it is on your account I am surrendering. +Do you suppose that if I were free, as to serve God I ought +to be free, do you suppose then that I should give up my +principles like this? Never! But because I'm a married +priest, because I've a wife and family to support, my hands +are tied. Oh, yes, Astill was very tactful. He kept insisting +on my duty to the parish; but did he once fail to rub in the +position in which I should find myself if I did resign? No +bishop would license me; I should be inhibited in every +diocese—in other words I should starve. The beliefs I hold +most dear, the beliefs I've fought for all these years surrendered +for bread and butter! <i>Woman, what have I to do +with thee?</i> Our Blessed Lord could speak thus even to His +Blessed Mother. But I! <i>He that loveth son or daughter +more than me is not worthy of me. And he that taketh not +his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me.</i>"</p> + +<p>The Missioner threw himself into his worn armchair and +stared into the unlighted grate. His wife came behind him +and laid a white hand upon his forehead; but her touch +seemed to madden him, and he sprang away from her.</p> + +<p>"No more of that," he cried. "If I was weak when I +married you I will never be weak again. You have your +child. Let that be enough for your tenderness. I want none +of it myself. Do you hear? I wish to devote myself henceforth +to my parish. My parish! The parish of a coward +and a traitor."</p> + +<p>Mark heard his mother now speaking in a voice that was +strange to him, in a voice that did not belong to her, but +that seemed to come from far away, as if she were lost in +a snowstorm and calling for help.</p> + +<p>"James, if you feel this hatred for me and for poor little +Mark, it is better that we leave you. We can go to my father +in Cornwall, and you will not feel hampered by the responsibility +of having to provide for us. After what you have +said to me, after the way you have looked at me, I could +never live with you as your wife again."</p> + +<p>"That sounds a splendid scheme," said the Missioner bitterly. +"But do you think I have so little logic that I should +be able to escape from my responsibilities by planting them +on the shoulders of another? No, I sinned when I married +you. I did not believe and I do not believe that a priest +ought to marry; but having done so I must face the situation +and do my duty to my family, so that I may also do +my duty to God."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that God will accept duty offered in that +spirit? If he does, he is not the God in Whom I believe. +He is a devil that can be propitiated with burnt offerings," +exclaimed the woman passionately.</p> + +<p>"Do not blaspheme," the priest commanded.</p> + +<p>"Blaspheme!" she echoed. "It is you, James, who have +blasphemed nature this afternoon. You have committed the +sin against the Holy Ghost, and may you be forgiven by +your God. I can never forgive you."</p> + +<p>"You're becoming hysterical."</p> + +<p>"How dare you say that? How dare you? I have loved +you, James, with all the love that I could give you. I have +suffered in silence when I saw how you regarded family +life, how unkind you were to Mark, how utterly wrapped +up in the outward forms of religion. You are a Pharisee, +James, you should have lived before Our Lord came down +to earth. But I will not suffer any longer. You need not +worry about the evasion of your responsibilities. You cannot +make me stay with you. You will not dare keep Mark. +Save your own soul in your own way; but Mark's soul is +as much mine as yours to save."</p> + +<p>During this storm of words Mark had been thinking how +wicked it was of his father to upset his mother like that +when she had a headache. He had thought also how terrible +it was that he should apparently be the cause of this frightening +quarrel. Often in Lima Street he had heard tales +of wives who were beaten by their husbands and now he +supposed that his own mother was going to be beaten. Suddenly +he heard her crying. This was too much for him; he +sprang from his hiding place and ran to put his arms round +her in protection.</p> + +<p>"Mother, mother, don't cry. You are bad, you are bad," +he told his father. "You are wicked and bad to make +her cry."</p> + +<p>"Have you been in the room all this time?" his father +asked.</p> + +<p>Mark did not even bother to nod his head, so intent was +he upon consoling his mother. She checked her emotion +when her son put his arms round her neck, and whispered +to him not to speak. It was almost dark in the study now, +and what little light was still filtering in at the window from +the grey nightfall was obscured by the figure of the Missioner +gazing out at the lantern spire of his new church. +There was a tap at the door, and Mrs. Lidderdale snatched +up the volume that Mark had let fall upon the floor when +he emerged from the curtains, so that when Dora came in +to light the gas and say that tea was ready, nothing of the +stress of the last few minutes was visible. The Missioner +was looking out of the window at his new church; his wife +and son were contemplating the picture of an impervious +Chinaman suspended in a cage where he could neither stand +nor sit nor lie.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V" />CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>PALM SUNDAY</h3> + + +<p>Mark's dream from which he woke to wonder if the end +of the world was at hand had been a shadow cast by +coming events. So far as the world of Lima Street was concerned, +it was the end of it. The night after that scene in his +father's study, which made a deeper impression on him than +anything before that date in his short life, his mother came +to sleep in the nursery with him, to keep him company so +that he should not be frightened any more, she offered as +the explanation of her arrival. But Mark, although of +course he never said so to her, was sure that she had come +to him to be protected against his father.</p> + +<p>Mark did not overhear any more discussions between his +parents, and he was taken by surprise when one day a week +after his mother had come to sleep in his room, she asked +him how he should like to go and live in the country. To +Mark the country was as remote as Paradise, and at first he +was inclined to regard the question as rhetorical to which +a conventional reply was expected. If anybody had asked +him how he should like to go to Heaven, he would have +answered that he should like to go to Heaven very much. +Cows, sheep, saints, angels, they were all equally unreal +outside a picture book.</p> + +<p>"I would like to go to the country very much," he said. +"And I would like to go to the Zoological Gardens very +much. Perhaps we can go there soon, can we, mother?"</p> + +<p>"We can't go there if we're in the country."</p> + +<p>Mark stared at her.</p> + +<p>"But really go in the country?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling, really go."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother," and immediately he checked his enthusiasm +with a sceptical "when?"</p> + +<p>"Next Monday."</p> + +<p>"And shall I see cows?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And donkeys? And horses? And pigs? And goats?"</p> + +<p>To every question she nodded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, I will be good," he promised of his own +accord. "And can I take my grenadiers?"</p> + +<p>"You can take everything you have, darling."</p> + +<p>"Will Dora come?" He did not inquire about his father.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Just you and me?"</p> + +<p>She nodded, and Mark flung his arms round her neck to +press upon her lips a long fragrant kiss, such a kiss as only +a child can give.</p> + +<p>On Sunday morning, the last Sunday morning he would +worship in the little tin mission church, the last Sunday +morning indeed that any of the children of Lima Street +would worship there, Mark sat close beside his mother at +the children's Mass. His father looking as he always looked, +took off his chasuble, and in his alb walked up and down +the aisle preaching his short sermon interspersed with +questions.</p> + +<p>"What is this Sunday called?"</p> + +<p>There was a silence until a well-informed little girl +breathed through her nose that it was called Passion Sunday.</p> + +<p>"Quite right. And next Sunday?"</p> + +<p>"Palm Sunday," all the children shouted with alacrity, +for they looked forward to it almost more than to any +Sunday in the year.</p> + +<p>"Next Sunday, dear children, I had hoped to give you +the blessed palms in our beautiful new church, but God has +willed otherwise, and another priest will come in my place. +I hope you will listen to him as attentively as you have +listened to me, and I hope you will try to encourage him +by your behaviour both in and out of the church, by your +punctuality and regular attendance at Mass, and by your +example to other children who have not had the advantage of +learning all about our glorious Catholic faith. I shall think +about you all when I am gone and I shall never cease to +ask our Blessed Lord Jesus Christ to guard you and keep +you safe for Him. And I want you to pray to Our Blessed +Lady and to our great patron Saint Wilfred that they will +intercede for you and me. Will you all do this?"</p> + +<p>There was a unanimous and sibilant "Yes, father," from +the assembled children, and then one little girl after being +prodded by her companions on either side of her spoke up +and asked the Missioner why he was going.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is a very difficult question to answer; but I will +try to explain it to you by a parable. What is a parable?"</p> + +<p>"Something that isn't true," sang out a too ready boy from +the back of the church.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Arthur Williams. Surely some other boy or +girl can correct Arthur Williams? How many times have +we had that word explained to us! A parable is a story +with a hidden meaning. Now please, every boy and girl, +repeat that answer after me. A parable is a story with a +hidden meaning."</p> + +<p>And all the children baa'd in unison:</p> + +<p>"A parable is a story with a hidden meaning."</p> + +<p>"That's better," said the Missioner. "And now I will tell +you my parable. Once upon a time there was a little boy +or a little girl, it doesn't matter which, whose father put +him in charge of a baby. He was told not to let anybody +take it away from him and he was told to look after it and +wheel it about in the perambulator, which was a very old +one, and not only very old but very small for the baby, who +was growing bigger and bigger every day. Well, a lot of +kind people clubbed together and bought a new perambulator, +bigger than the other and more comfortable. They +told him to take this perambulator home to his father and +show him what a beautiful present they had made. Well, +the boy wheeled it home and his father was very pleased +with it. But when the boy took the baby out again, the +nursemaid told him that the baby had too many clothes +on and said that he must either take some of the clothes +off or else she must take away the new perambulator. Well, +the little boy had promised his father, who had gone far +away on a journey, that nobody should touch the baby, and +so he said he would not take off any of the clothes. And +when the nurse took away the perambulator the little boy +wrote to his father to ask what he should do and his father +wrote to him that he would put one of his brothers in charge +who would know how to do what the nurse wanted." The +Missioner paused to see the effect of his story. "Now, children, +let us see if you can understand my parable. Who +is the little boy?"</p> + +<p>A concordance of opinion cried "God."</p> + +<p>"No. Now think. The father surely was God. And +now once more, who was the little boy?"</p> + +<p>Several children said "Jesus Christ," and one little boy +who evidently thought that any connexion between babies +and religion must have something to do with the Holy Innocents +confidently called out "Herod."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no," said the Missioner. "Surely the little boy +is myself. And what is the baby?"</p> + +<p>Without hesitation the boys and girls all together shouted +"Jesus Christ."</p> + +<p>"No, no. The baby is our Holy Catholic Faith. For +which we are ready if necessary to—?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"To do what?"</p> + +<p>"To be baptized," one boy hazarded.</p> + +<p>"To die," said the Missioner reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"To die," the class complacently echoed.</p> + +<p>"And now what is the perambulator?"</p> + +<p>This was a puzzle, but at last somebody tried:</p> + +<p>"The Body and Blood of Our Lord, Jesus Christ."</p> + +<p>"No, no. The perambulator is our Mission here in Lima +Street. The old perambulator is the Church where we are +sitting at Mass and the new perambulator is—"</p> + +<p>"The new church," two children answered simultaneously.</p> + +<p>"Quite right. And now, who is the nursemaid? The +nursemaid is the Bishop of London. You remember that +last Sunday we talked about bishops. What is a bishop?"</p> + +<p>"A high-priest."</p> + +<p>"Well, that is not a bad answer, but don't you remember +we said that bishop meant 'overseer,' and you all know what +an overseer is. Any of your fathers who go out to work +will tell you that. So the Bishop like the nursemaid in my +parable thought he knew better what clothes the baby ought +to wear in the new perambulator, that is to say what services +we ought to have in the new St. Wilfred's. And as God is +far away and we can only speak to Him by prayer, I have +asked Him what I ought to do, and He has told me that I +ought to go away and that He will put a brother in charge +of the baby in the new perambulator. Who then is the +brother?"</p> + +<p>"Jesus Christ," said the class, convinced that this time +it must be He.</p> + +<p>"No, no. The brother is the priest who will come to +take charge of the new St. Wilfred's. He will be called +the Vicar, and St. Wilfred's, instead of being called the +Lima Street Mission, will become a parish. And now, dear +children, there is no time to say any more words to you. +My heart is sore at leaving you, but in my sorrow I shall +be comforted if I can have the certainty that you are growing +up to be good and loyal Catholics, loving Our Blessed +Lord and His dear Mother, honouring the Holy Saints and +Martyrs, hating the Evil One and all his Spirits and obeying +God with whose voice the Church speaks. Now, for +the last time children, let me hear you sing <i>We are but little +children weak</i>."</p> + +<p>They all sang more loudly than usual to express a vague +and troubled sympathy:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>There's not a child so small and weak</i><br /></span> +<span><i>But has his little cross to take,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>His little work of love and praise</i><br /></span> +<span><i>That he may do for Jesus' sake.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And they bleated a most canorous <i>Amen</i>.</p> + +<p>Mark noticed that his mother clutched his hand tightly +while his father was speaking, and when once he looked up +at her to show how loudly he too was singing, he saw that +her eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p>The next morning was Monday.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Mark, be a good boy and obedient to your +mother," said his father on the platform at Paddington.</p> + +<p>"Who is that man?" Mark whispered when the guard +locked them in.</p> + +<p>His mother explained, and Mark looked at him with as +much awe as if he were St. Peter with the keys of Heaven at +his girdle. He waved his handkerchief from the window +while the train rushed on through tunnels and between +gloomy banks until suddenly the world became green, and +there was the sun in a great blue and white sky. Mark +looked at his mother and saw that again there were tears +in her eyes, but that they sparkled like diamonds.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI" />CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>NANCEPEAN</h3> + + +<p>The Rhos or, as it is popularly written and pronounced, +the Rose is a tract of land in the south-west of the +Duchy of Cornwall, ten miles long and six at its greatest +breadth, which on account of its remoteness from the railway, +its unusual geological formation, and its peninsular shape +possesses both in the character of its inhabitants and in the +peculiar aspects of the natural scene all the limitations and +advantages of an island. The main road running south to +Rose Head from Rosemarket cuts the peninsula into two unequal +portions, the eastern and by far the larger of which +consists of a flat tableland two or three hundred feet above +the sea covered with a bushy heath, which flourishes in the +magnesian soil and which when in bloom is of such a clear +rosy pink, with nothing to break the level monochrome +except scattered drifts of cotton grass, pools of silver water +and a few stunted pines, that ignorant observers have often +supposed that the colour gave its name to the whole peninsula. +The ancient town of Rosemarket, which serves as +the only channel of communication with the rest of Cornwall, +lies in the extreme north-west of the peninsula between +a wide creek of the Roseford river and the Rose Pool, an +irregular heart-shaped water about four miles in circumference +which on the west is only separated from the Atlantic +by a bar of fine shingle fifty yards across.</p> + +<p>The parish of Nancepean, of which Mark's grandfather +the Reverend Charles Elphinstone Trehawke had been vicar +for nearly thirty years, ran southward from the Rose Pool +between the main road and the sea for three miles. It was +a country of green valleys unfolding to the ocean, and of +small farms fertile enough when they were sheltered from +the prevailing wind; but on the southern confines of the +parish the soil became shallow and stony, the arable fields +degenerated into a rough open pasturage full of gorse and +foxgloves and gradually widening patches of heather, until +finally the level monochrome of the Rhos absorbed the last +vestiges of cultivation, and the parish came to an end.</p> + +<p>The actual village of Nancepean, set in a hollow about +a quarter of a mile from the sea, consisted of a smithy, a +grocer's shop, a parish hall and some two dozen white cottages +with steep thatched roofs lying in their own gardens +on either side of the unfrequented road that branched from +the main road to follow the line of the coast. Where this +road made the turn south a track strewn with grey shingle +ran down between the cliffs, at this point not much more +than grassy hummocks, to Nancepean beach which extended +northward in a wide curve until it disappeared two miles +away in the wooded heights above the Rose Pool. The +metalled coast road continued past the Hanover Inn, an +isolated house standing at the head of a small cove, to make +the long ascent of Pendhu Cliff three hundred and fifty feet +high, from the brow of which it descended between banks +of fern past St. Tugdual's Church to the sands of Church +Cove, whence it emerged to climb in a steep zigzag the next +headland, beyond which it turned inland again to Lanyon +and rejoined the main road to Rose Head. The church +itself had no architectural distinction; but the solitary position, +the churchyard walls sometimes washed by high spring +tides, the squat tower built into the rounded grassy cliff +that protected it from the direct attack of the sea, and its +impressive antiquity combined to give it more than the finest +architecture could give. Nowhere in the surrounding landscape +was there a sign of human habitation, neither on the +road down from Pendhu nor on the road up toward Lanyon, +not on the bare towans sweeping from the beach to the sky +in undulating waves of sandy grass, nor in the valley between +the towans and Pendhu, a wide green valley watered +by a small stream that flowed into the cove, where it formed +a miniature estuary, the configuration of whose effluence +changed with every tide.</p> + +<p>The Vicarage was not so far from the church as the +church was from the village, but it was some way from +both. It was reached from Nancepean by a road or rather +by a gated cart-track down one of the numerous valleys of +the parish, and it was reached from the church by another +cart-track along the valley between Pendhu and the towans. +Probably it was an ancient farmhouse, and it must have been +a desolate and austere place until, as at the date when Mark +first came there, it was graced by the perfume and gold of +acacias, by wistaria and jasmine and honeysuckle, by the +ivory goblets of magnolias, by crimson fuchsias, and where +formerly its grey walls grew mossy north and east by pink +and white camelias and the waxen bells of lapagerias. The +garden was a wilderness of scarlet rhododendrons from the +thickets of which innumerable blackbirds and thrushes +preyed upon the peas. The lawns were like meadows; the +lily ponds were marbled with weeds; the stables were hardly +to be reached on account of the tangle of roses and briers +that filled the abandoned yard. The front drive was bordered +by evergreen oaks, underneath the shade of which blue +hydrangeas flowered sparsely with a profusion of pale-green +foliage and lanky stems.</p> + +<p>Mark when he looked out of his window on the morning +after his arrival thought that he was in fairyland. He looked +at the rhododendrons; he looked at the raindrops of the night +sparkling in the morning sun; he looked at the birds, and +the blue sky, and across the valley to a hillside yellow with +gorse. He hardly knew how to restrain himself from waking +his mother with news of the wonderful sights and sounds +of this first vision of the country; but when he saw a clump +of daffodils nodding in the grass below, it was no longer +possible to be considerate. Creeping to his mother's door, +he gently opened it and listened. He meant only to whisper +"Mother," but in his excitement he shouted, and she suddenly +roused from sleep by his voice sat up in alarm.</p> + +<p>"Mother, there are seven daffodils growing wild under +my window."</p> + +<p>"My darling, you frightened me so. I thought you'd +hurt yourself."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how my voice came big like that," said +Mark apologetically. "I only meant it to be a whisper. But +you weren't dreadfully frightened? Or were you?"</p> + +<p>His mother smiled.</p> + +<p>"No, not dreadfully frightened."</p> + +<p>"Well, do you think I might dress myself and go in the +garden?"</p> + +<p>"You mustn't disturb grandfather."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, of course not."</p> + +<p>"All right, darling. But it's only six o'clock. Very early. +And you must remember that grandfather may be tired. He +had to wait an hour for us at Rosemarket last night."</p> + +<p>"He's very nice, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>Mark did not ask this tentatively; he really did think that +his grandfather was very nice, although he had been puzzled +and not a little frightened by his bushy black eyebrows +slanting up to a profusion of white hair. Mark had never +seen such eyebrows, and he wondered whatever grandfather's +moustache would be like if it were allowed to grow.</p> + +<p>"He's a dear," said Mrs. Lidderdale fervidly. "And now, +sweetheart, if you really intend to dress yourself run along, +because Mother wants to sleep a little longer if she can."</p> + +<p>The only difficulty Mark had was with his flannel front, +because one of the tapes vanished like a worm into its hole, +and nothing in his armoury was at once long enough and +pointed enough to hook it out again. Finally he decided +that at such an early hour of the morning it would not +matter if he went out exposing his vest, and soon he was +wandering in that enchanted shrubbery of rhododendrons, +alternating between imagining it to be the cave of Aladdin +or the beach where Sinbad found all the pebbles to be precious +stones. He wandered down hill through the thicket, +listening with a sense of satisfaction to the increasing +squelchiness of the peaty soil and feeling when the blackbirds +fled at his approach with shrill quack and flapping wings +much more like a hunter than he ever felt in the nursery +at Lima Street. He resolved to bring his gun with him +next time. This was just the place to find a hippopotamus, +or even a crocodile. Mark had reached the bottom of the +slope and discovered a dark sluggish stream full of decayed +vegetable matter which was slowly oozing on its course. Or +even a crocodile, he thought again; and he looked carefully +at a half-submerged log. Or even a crocodile . . . yes, +but people had often thought before that logs were not +crocodiles and had not discovered their mistake until they +were half way down the crocodile's throat. It had been +amusing to fancy the existence of crocodiles when he was +still close to the Vicarage, but suppose after all that there +really were crocodiles living down here? Feeling a little +ashamed of his cowardice, but glossing it over with an +assumption of filial piety, Mark turned to go back through +the rhododendrons so as not to be late for breakfast. He +would find out if any crocodiles had been seen about here +lately, and if they had not, he would bring out his gun and . . . +suddenly Mark was turned inside out by terror, for +not twenty yards away there was without any possibility of +self-deception a wild beast something between an ant-eater +and a laughing hyena that with nose to the ground was +evidently pursuing him, and what was worse was between +him and home. There flashed through Mark's mind the +memories of what other hunters had done in such situations, +what ruses they had adopted if unarmed, what method +of defence if armed; but in the very instant of the panoramic +flash Mark did what countless uncelebrated hunters +must have done, he ran in the opposition direction from his +enemy. In this case it meant jumping over the stream, +crocodile or not, and tearing his away through snowberries +and brambles until he emerged on the moors at the bottom +of the valley.</p> + +<p>It was not until he had put half a dozen small streams +between himself and the unknown beast that Mark paused +to look round. Behind him the valley was lost in a green +curve; before him another curve shut out the ultimate view. +On his left the slope of the valley rose to the sky in tiers +of blazing yellow gorse; to his right he could see the thickets +through which he had emerged upon this verdant solitude. +But beyond the thickets there was no sign of the Vicarage. +There was not a living thing in sight; there was nothing +except the song of larks high up and imperceptible against +the steady morning sun that shed a benign warmth upon +the world, and particularly upon the back of Mark's neck +when he decided that his safest course was to walk in the +direction of the valley's gradual widening and to put as +many more streams as he could between him and the beast. +Having once wetted himself to the knees, he began to take a +pleasure in splashing through the vivid wet greenery. He +wondered what he should behold at the next curve of the +valley; without knowing it he began to walk more slowly, +for the beauty of the day was drowsing his fears; the spell +of earth was upon him. He walked more slowly, because +he was passing through a bed of forget-me-nots, and he +could not bear to blind one of those myriad blue eyes. He +chose most carefully the destination of each step, and walking +thus he did not notice that the valley would curve no +more, but was opening at last. He looked up in a sudden +consciousness of added space, and there serene as the sky +above was spread the sea. Yesterday from the train Mark +had had what was actually his first view of the sea; but +the rain had taken all the colour out of it, and he had been +thrilled rather by the word than by the fact. Now the word +was nothing, the fact was everything. There it was within +reach of him, blue as the pictures always made it. The +streams of the valley had gathered into one, and Mark caring +no more what happened to the forget-me-nots ran along the +bank. This morning when the stream reached the shore it +broke into twenty limpid rivulets, each one of which +ploughed a separate silver furrow across the glistening sand +until all were merged in ocean, mighty father of streams +and men. Mark ran with the rivulets until he stood by the +waves' edge. All was here of which he had read, shells +and seaweed, rocks and cliffs and sand; he felt like Robinson +Crusoe when he looked round him and saw nothing to break +the solitude. Every point of the compass invited exploration +and promised adventure. That white road running +northward and rising with the cliffs, whither did it lead, +what view was outspread where it dipped over the brow +of the high table-land and disappeared into the naked sky +beyond? The billowy towans sweeping up from the beach +appeared to him like an illimitable prairie on which buffaloes +and bison might roam. Whither led the sandy track, the +summit of whose long diagonal was lost in the brightness +of the morning sky? And surely that huddled grey building +against an isolated green cliff must be grandfather's +church of which his mother had often told him. Mark +walked round the stone walls that held up the little churchyard +and, entering by a gate on the farther side, he looked +at the headstones and admired the feathery tamarisks that +waved over the tombs. He was reading an inscription more +legible than most on a headstone of highly polished granite, +when he heard a voice behind him say:</p> + +<p>"You mind what you're doing with that grave. That's +my granfa's grave, that is, and if you touch it, I'll knock +'ee down."</p> + +<p>Mark looked round and beheld a boy of about his own +age and size in a pair of worn corduroy knickerbockers and +a guernsey, who was regarding him from fierce blue eyes +under a shock of curly yellow hair.</p> + +<p>"I'm not touching it," Mark explained. Then something +warned him that he must assert himself, if he wished to +hold his own with this boy, and he added:</p> + +<p>"But if I want to touch it, I will."</p> + +<p>"Will 'ee? I say you won't do no such a thing then."</p> + +<p>Mark seized the top of the headstone as firmly as his +small hands would allow him and invited the boy to look +what he was doing.</p> + +<p>"Lev go," the boy commanded.</p> + +<p>"I won't," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"I'll make 'ee lev go."</p> + +<p>"All right, make me."</p> + +<p>The boy punched Mark's shoulder, and Mark punched +blindly back, hitting his antagonist such a little way above +the belt as to lay himself under the imputation of a foul +blow. The boy responded by smacking Mark's face with +his open palm; a moment later they were locked in a close +struggle, heaving and panting and pushing until both of +them tripped on the low railing of a grave and rolled over +into a carefully tended bed of primroses, whence they were +suddenly jerked to their feet, separated, and held at arm's +length by an old man with a grey beard and a small round +hole in the left temple.</p> + +<p>"I'll learn you to scat up my tombs," said the old man +shaking them violently. "'Tisn't the first time I've spoken +to you, Cass Dale, and who's this? Who's this boy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my gosh, look behind 'ee, Mr. Timbury. The bullocks +is coming into the churchyard."</p> + +<p>Mr. Timbury loosed his hold on the two boys as he turned, +and Cass Dale catching hold of Mark's hand shouted:</p> + +<p>"Come on, run, or he'll have us again."</p> + +<p>They were too quick for the old man's wooden leg, and +scrambling over the wall by the south porch of the church +they were soon out of danger on the beach below.</p> + +<p>"My gosh, I never heard him coming. If I hadn't have +thought to sing out about the bullocks coming, he'd have +laid that stick round us sure enough. He don't care where +he hits anybody, old man Timbury don't. I belong to hear +him tap-tapping along with his old wooden stump, but darn +'ee I never heard 'un coming this time."</p> + +<p>The old man was leaning over the churchyard wall, shaking +his stick and abusing them with violent words.</p> + +<p>"That's fine language for a sexton," commented Cass Dale. +"I'd be ashamed to swear like that, I would. You wouldn't +hear my father swear like that. My father's a local +preacher."</p> + +<p>"So's mine," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"Is he? Where to?"</p> + +<p>"London."</p> + +<p>"A minister, is he?"</p> + +<p>"No, he's a priest."</p> + +<p>"Does he kiss the Pope's toe? My gosh, if the Pope asked +me to kiss his toe, I'd soon tell him to kiss something else, +I would."</p> + +<p>"My father doesn't kiss the Pope's toe," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"I reckon he does then," Cass replied. "Passon Trehawke +don't though. Passon Trehawke's some fine old chap. My +father said he'd lev me go church of a morning sometimes +if I'd a mind. My father belongs to come himself to the +Harvest Home, but my granfa never came to church at all +so long as he was alive. 'Time enough when I'm dead for +that' he used to say. He was a big man down to the Chapel, +my granfa was. Mostly when he did preach the maids +would start screeching, so I've heard tell. But he were too +old for preaching when I knawed 'un."</p> + +<p>"My grandfather is the priest here," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"There isn't no priest to Nancepean. Only Passon +Trehawke."</p> + +<p>"My grandfather's name is Trehawke."</p> + +<p>"Is it, by gosh? Well, why for do 'ee call him a priest? +He isn't a priest."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is."</p> + +<p>"I say he isn't then. A parson isn't a priest. When I'm +grown up I'm going to be a minister. What are you going +to be?"</p> + +<p>Mark had for some time past intended to be a keeper at +the Zoological Gardens, but after his adventure with the +wild beast in the thicket and this encounter with the self-confident +Cass Dale he decided that he would not be a keeper +but a parson. He informed Cass of his intention.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you're a parson and I'm a minister," said Cass, +"I'll bet everyone comes to listen to me preaching and none +of 'em don't go to hear you."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't care if they didn't," Mark affirmed.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't care if you had to preach to a parcel of +empty chairs and benches?" exclaimed Cass.</p> + +<p>"St. Francis preached to the trees," said Mark. "And +St. Anthony preached to the fishes."</p> + +<p>"They must have been a couple of loonies."</p> + +<p>"They were saints," Mark insisted.</p> + +<p>"Saints, were they? Well, my father doesn't think much +of saints. My father says he reckons saints is the same as +other people, only a bit worse if anything. Are you saved?"</p> + +<p>"What from?" Mark asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, from Hell of course. What else would you be +saved from?"</p> + +<p>"You might be saved from a wild beast," Mark pointed +out. "I saw a wild beast this morning. A wild beast with +a long nose and a sort of grey colour."</p> + +<p>"That wasn't a wild beast. That was an old badger."</p> + +<p>"Well, isn't a badger a wild beast?"</p> + +<p>Cass Dale laughed scornfully.</p> + +<p>"My gosh, if that isn't a good one! I suppose you'd say +a fox was a wild beast?"</p> + +<p>"No, I shouldn't," said Mark, repressing an inclination to +cry, so much mortified was he by Cass Dale's contemptuous +tone.</p> + +<p>"All the same," Cass went on. "It don't do to play around +with badgers. There was a chap over to Lanbaddern who +was chased right across the Rose one evening by seven +badgers. He was in a muck of sweat when he got home. +But one old badger isn't nothing."</p> + +<p>Mark had been counting on his adventure with the wild +beast to justify his long absence should he be reproached +by his mother on his return to the Vicarage. The way it +had been disposed of by Cass Dale as an old badger made +him wonder if after all it would be accepted as such a good +excuse.</p> + +<p>"I ought to be going home," he said. "But I don't think +I remember the way."</p> + +<p>"To Passon Trehawke's?"</p> + +<p>Mark nodded.</p> + +<p>"I'll show 'ee," Cass volunteered, and he led the way past +the mouth of the stream to the track half way up the slope +of the valley.</p> + +<p>"Ever eat furze flowers?" asked Cass, offering Mark some +that he had pulled off in passing. "Kind of nutty taste +they've got, I reckon. I belong to eat them most days."</p> + +<p>Mark acquired the habit and agreed with Cass that the +blossoms were delicious.</p> + +<p>"Only you don't want to go eating everything you see," +Cass warned him. "I reckon you'd better always ask me +before you eat anything. But furze flowers is all right. +I've eaten thousands. Next Friday's Good Friday."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Mark reverently.</p> + +<p>"We belong to get limpets every Good Friday. Are you +coming with me?"</p> + +<p>"Won't I be in church?" Mark inquired with memories +of Good Friday in Lima Street.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose they'll have some sort of a meeting down +Church," said Cass. "But you can come afterward. I'll +wait for 'ee in Dollar Cove. That's the next cove to Church +Cove on the other side of the Castle Cliff, and there's some +handsome cave there. Years ago my granfa knawed a chap +who saw a mermaid combing out her hair in Dollar Cove. +But there's no mermaids been seen lately round these parts. +My father says he reckons since they scat up the apple +orchards and give over drinking cider they won't see no +more mermaids to Nancepean. Have you signed the +pledge?"</p> + +<p>"What's that?" Mark asked.</p> + +<p>"My gosh, don't you know what the pledge is? Why, +that's when you put a blue ribbon in your buttonhole and +swear you won't drink nothing all your days."</p> + +<p>"But you'd die," Mark objected. "People must drink."</p> + +<p>"Water, yes, but there's no call for any one to drink +anything only water. My father says he reckons more +folk have gone to hell from drink than anything. You ought +to hear him preach about drink. Why, when it gets known +in the village that Sam Dale's going to preach on drink +there isn't a seat down Chapel. Well, I tell 'ee he frightened +me last time I sat under him. That's why old man Timbury +has it in for me whenever he gets the chance."</p> + +<p>Mark looked puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Old man Timbury keeps the Hanover Inn. And he +reckons my pa's preaching spoils his trade for a week. +That's why he's sexton to the church. 'Tis the only way +he can get even with the chapel folk. He used to be in the +Navy, and he lost his leg and got that hole in his head in a +war with the Rooshians. You'll hear him talking big about +the Rooshians sometimes. My father says anybody listening +to old Steve Timbury would think he'd fought with the +Devil, instead of a lot of poor leary Rooshians."</p> + +<p>Mark was so much impressed by the older boy's confident +chatter that when he arrived back at the Vicarage and found +his mother at breakfast he tried the effect of an imitation +of it upon her.</p> + +<p>"Darling boy, you mustn't excite yourself too much," she +warned him. "Do try to eat a little more and talk a little +less."</p> + +<p>"But I can go out again with Cass Dale, can't I, mother, +as soon as I've finished my breakfast? He said he'd wait +for me and he's going to show me where we might find +some silver dollars. He says they're five times as big as a +shilling and he's going to show me where there's a fox's +hole on the cliffs and he's . . ."</p> + +<p>"But, Mark dear, don't forget," interrupted his mother +who was feeling faintly jealous of this absorbing new friend, +"don't forget that I can show you lots of the interesting +things to see round here. I was a little girl here myself and +used to play with Cass Dale's father when he was a little +boy no bigger than Cass."</p> + +<p>Just then grandfather came into the room and Mark was +instantly dumb; he had never been encouraged to talk much +at breakfast in Lima Street. He did, however, eye his +grandfather from over the top of his cup, and he found +him less alarming in the morning than he had supposed +him to be last night. Parson Trehawke kept reaching across +the table for the various things he wanted until his daughter +jumped up and putting her arms round his neck said:</p> + +<p>"Dearest father, why don't you ask Mark or me to pass +you what you want?"</p> + +<p>"So long alone. So long alone," murmured Parson Trehawke +with an embarrassed smile and Mark observed with +a thrill that when he smiled he looked exactly like his mother, +and had Mark but known it exactly like himself.</p> + +<p>"And it's so wonderful to be back here," went on Mrs. +Lidderdale, "with everything looking just the same. As for +Mark, he's so happy that—Mark, do tell grandfather how +much you're enjoying yourself."</p> + +<p>Mark gulped several times, and finally managed to mutter +a confirmation of his mother's statement.</p> + +<p>"And he's already made friends with Cass Dale."</p> + +<p>"He's intelligent but like his father he thinks he knows +more than he does," commented Parson Trehawke. "However, +he'll make quite a good companion for this young +gentleman."</p> + +<p>As soon as breakfast was over Mark rushed out to join +Cass Dale, who sitting crosslegged under an ilex-tree was +peeling a pithy twig for a whistle.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII" />CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>LIFE AT NANCEPEAN</h3> + + +<p>For six years Mark lived with his mother and his grandfather +at Nancepean, hearing nothing of his father except +that he had gone out as a missionary to the diocese of +some place in Africa he could never remember, so little interested +was he in his father. His education was shared between +his two guardians, or rather his academic education; the +real education came either from what he read for himself +in his grandfather's ancient library of from what he learnt +of Cass Dale, who was much more than merely informative +in the manner of a sixpenny encyclopædia. The Vicar, who +made himself responsible for the Latin and later on for the +Greek, began with Horace, his own favourite author, from +the rapid translation aloud of whose Odes and Epodes one +after another he derived great pleasure, though it is doubtful +if his grandson would have learnt much Latin if Mrs. +Lidderdale had not supplemented Horace with the Primer +and Henry's Exercises. However, if Mark did not acquire +a vocabulary, he greatly enjoyed listening to his grandfather's +melodious voice chanting forth that sonorous topography +of Horace, while the green windows of the study +winked every other minute from the flight past of birds in +the garden. His grandfather would stop and ask what bird +it was, because he loved birds even better than he loved +Horace. And if Mark was tired of Latin he used to say +that he wasn't sure, but that he thought it was a lesser-spotted +woodpecker or a shrike or any one of the birds that +experience taught him would always distract his grandfather's +attention from anything that he was doing in order +that he might confirm or contradict the rumour. People +who are much interested in birds are less sociable than other +naturalists. Their hobby demands a silent and solitary pursuit +of knowledge, and the presence of human beings is +prejudicial to their success. Parson Trehawke found that +Mark's company was not so much of a handicap as he would +have supposed; on the contrary he began to find it an advantage, +because his grandson's eyes were sharp and his observation +if he chose accurate: Parson Trehawke, who was +growing old, began to rely upon his help. It was only when +Mark was tired of listening to the translation of Horace +that he called thrushes shrikes: when he was wandering +over the cliffs or tramping beside his grandfather across +the Rhos, he was severely sceptical of any rarity and used +to make short work of the old gentleman's Dartford warblers +and fire-crested wrens.</p> + +<p>It was usually over birds if ever Parson Trehawke quarrelled +with his parishioners. Few of them attended his +services, but they spoke well of him personally, and they +reckoned that he was a fine old boy was Parson. They +would not however abandon their beastly habit of snaring +wildfowl in winter with fish-hooks, and many a time had +Mark seen his grandfather stand on the top of Pendhu Cliff, +a favourite place to bait the hooks, cursing the scattered +white houses of the village below as if it were one of the +cities of the plain.</p> + +<p>Although the people of Nancepean except for a very few +never attended the services in their church they liked to be +baptized and married within its walls, and not for anything +would they have been buried outside the little churchyard +by the sea. About three years after Mark's arrival his +grandfather had a great fight over a burial. The blacksmith, +a certain William Day, died, and although he had never been +inside St. Tugdual's Church since he was married, his relations +set great store by his being buried there and by Parson +Trehawke's celebrating the last rites.</p> + +<p>"Never," vowed the Parson. "Never while I live will I +lay that blackguard in my churchyard."</p> + +<p>The elders of the village remonstrated with him, pointing +out that although the late Mr. Day was a pillar of the +Chapel it had ever been the custom in Nancepean to let the +bones of the most obstinate Wesleyan rest beside his forefathers.</p> + +<p>"Wesleyan!" shouted the Parson. "Who cares if he was +a Jew? I won't have my churchyard defiled by that blackguard's +corpse. Only a week before he died, I saw him +with my own eyes fling two or three pieces of white-hot +metal to some ducks that were looking for worms in the +ditch outside his smithy, and the wretched birds gobbled +them down and died in agony. I cursed him where he stood, +and the judgment of God has struck him low, and never +shall he rest in holy ground if I can keep him out of it."</p> + +<p>The elders of the village expressed their astonishment at +Mr. Trehawke's unreasonableness. William Day had been +a God-fearing and upright man all his life with no scandal +upon his reputation unless it were the rumour that he had +got with child a half lunatic servant in his house, and that +was never proved. Was a man to be refused Christian burial +because he had once played a joke on some ducks? And +what would Parson Trehawke have said to Jesus Christ +about the joke he played on the Gadarene swine?</p> + +<p>There is nothing that irritates a Kelt so much as the least +consideration for any animal, and there was not a man in +the whole of the Rhos peninsula who did not sympathize +with the corpse of William Day. In the end the dispute was +settled by a neighbouring parson's coming over and reading +the burial service over the blacksmith's grave. Mark apprehended +that his grandfather resented bitterly the compromise +as his fellow parson called it, the surrender as he himself +called it. This was the second time that Mark had witnessed +the defeat of a superior being whom he had been taught to +regard as invincible, and it slightly clouded that perfect +serenity of being grown up to which, like most children, he +looked forward as the end of life's difficulties. He argued +the justification of his grandfather's action with Cass Dale, +and he found himself confronted by the workings of a mind +naturally nonconformist with its rebellion against authority, +its contempt of tradition, its blend of self-respect and self-importance. +When Mark found himself in danger of being +beaten in argument, he took to his fists, at which method +of settling a dispute Cass Dale proved equally his match; +and the end of it was that Mark found himself upside down +in a furze bush with nothing to console him but an unalterable +conviction that he was right and, although tears of pain +and mortification were streaming down his cheeks, a fixed +resolve to renew the argument as soon as he was the right +way up again, and if necessary the struggle as well.</p> + +<p>Luckily for the friendship between Mark and Cass, a +friendship that was awarded a mystical significance by their +two surnames, Lidderdale and Dale, Parson Trehawke, soon +after the burial episode, came forward as the champion of +the Nancepean Fishing Company in a quarrel with those +pirates from Lanyon, the next village down the coast. Inasmuch +as a pilchard catch worth £800 was in dispute, feeling +ran high between the Nancepean Daws and the Lanyon +Gulls. All the inhabitants of the Rhos parishes were called +after various birds or animals that were supposed to indicate +their character; and when Parson Trehawke's championship +of his own won the day, his parishioners came to church in +a body on the following Sunday and put one pound five +shillings and tenpence halfpenny in the plate. The reconciliation +between the two boys took place with solemn +preliminary handshakes followed by linking of arms as of +old after Cass reckoned audibly to Mark who was standing +close by that Parson Trehawke was a grand old chap, the +grandest old chap from Rosemarket to Rose Head. That +afternoon Mark went back to tea with Cass Dale, and over +honey with Cornish cream they were brothers again. +Samuel Dale, the father of Cass, was a typical farmer of +that part of the country with his fifty or sixty acres of land, +the capital to work which had come from fish in the fat +pilchard years. Cass was his only son, and he had an ambition +to turn him into a full-fledged minister. He had lost +his wife when Cass was a baby, and it pleased him to think +that in planning such a position for the boy he was carrying +out the wishes of the mother whom outwardly he so much +resembled. For housekeeper Samuel Dale had an unmarried +sister whom her neighbours accused of putting on too much +gentility before her nephew's advancement warranted such +airs. Mark liked Aunt Keran and accepted her hospitality +as a tribute to himself rather than to his position as the +grandson of the Vicar. Miss Dale had been a schoolmistress +before she came to keep house for her brother, and she +worked hard to supplement what learning Cass could get +from the village school before, some three years after Mark +came to Nancepean, he was sent to Rosemarket Grammar +School.</p> + +<p>Mark was anxious to attend the Grammar School with +Cass; but Mrs. Lidderdale's dread nowadays was that her +son would acquire a West country burr, and it was considered +more prudent, economically and otherwise, to let him +go on learning with his grandfather and herself. Mark +missed Cass when he went to school in Rosemarket, because +there was no such thing as playing truant there, and it was +so far away that Cass did not come home for the midday +meal. But in summertime, Mark used to wait for him +outside the town, where a lane branched from the main road +into the unfrequented country behind the Rose Pool and +took them the longest way home along the banks on the +Nancepean side, which were low and rushy unlike those on +the Rosemarket side, which were steep and densely wooded. +The great water, though usually described as heart-shaped, +was really more like a pair of Gothic arches, the green cusp +between which was crowned by a lonely farmhouse, El +Dorado of Mark and his friend, and the base of which was +the bar of shingle that kept out the sea. There was much +to beguile the boys on the way home, whether it was the sight +of strange wildfowl among the reeds, or the exploration of +a ruined cottage set in an ancient cherry-orchard, or the +sailing of paper boats, or even the mere delight of lying on +the grass and listening above the murmur of insects to the +water nagging at the sedge. So much indeed was there to +beguile them that, if after sunset the Pool had not been a +haunted place, they would have lingered there till nightfall. +Sometimes indeed they did miscalculate the distance they +had come and finding themselves likely to be caught by +twilight they would hurry with eyes averted from the grey +water lest the kelpie should rise out of the depths and drown +them. There were men and women now alive in Nancepean +who could tell of this happening to belated wayfarers, and +it was Mark who discovered that such a beast was called a +kelpie. Moreover, the bar where earlier in the evening it +was pleasant to lie and pluck the yellow sea-poppies, listening +to tales of wrecks and buried treasure and bygone smuggling, +was no place at all in the chill of twilight; moreover, when +the bar had been left behind and before the coastguards' +cottages came into sight there was a two-mile stretch of +lonely cliff that was a famous haunt of ghosts. Drowned +light dragoons whose bodies were tossed ashore here a +hundred years ago, wreckers revisiting the scene of their +crimes, murdered excisemen . . . it was not surprising +that the boys hurried along the narrow path, whistling to +keep up their spirits and almost ready to cry for help if +nothing more dangerous than a moth fanned their pale +cheeks in passing. And after this Mark had to undo alone +the nine gates between the Vicarage and Nancepean, though +Cass would go with him as far along his road as the last +light of the village could be seen, and what was more stay +there whistling for as long as Mark could hear the heartening +sound.</p> + +<p>But if these adventures demanded the companionship of +Cass, the inspiration of them was Mark's mother. Just as +in the nursery games of Lima Street it had always been she +who had made it worth while to play with his grenadiers, +which by the way had perished in a troopship like their +predecessors the light dragoons a century before, sinking +one by one and leaving nothing behind except their cork-stands +bobbing on the waves.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lidderdale knew every legend of the coast, so that +it was thrilling to sit beside her and turn over the musty +pages of the church registers, following from equinox to +equinox in the entries of the burials the wrecks since the year +1702:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The bodies of fifteen seamen from the brigantine <i>Ann +Pink</i> wrecked in Church Cove, on the afternoon of Dec. +19, 1757.</p> + +<p>The body of a child washed into Pendhu Cove from the +high seas during the night of Jan. 24, 1760.</p> + +<p>The body of an unknown sailor, the breast tattooed with +a heart and the initials M. V. found in Hanover Cove on the +morning of March 3, 1801.</p></div> + +<p>Such were the inscriptions below the wintry dates of two +hundred years, and for each one Mark's mother had a +moving legend of fortune's malice. She had tales too of +treasure, from the golden doubloons of a Spanish galleon +wrecked on the Rose Bar in the sixteenth century to the +silver dollars of Portugal, a million of them, lost in the +narrow cove on the other side of the Castle Cliff in the lee +of which was built St. Tugdual's Church. At low spring +tides it was possible to climb down and sift the wet sand +through one's fingers on the chance of finding a dollar, and +when the tide began to rise it was jolly to climb back to the +top of the cliff and listen to tales of mermaids while a gentle +wind blew the perfume of the sea-campion along the grassy +slopes. It was here that Mark first heard the story of the +two princesses who were wrecked in what was now called +Church Cove and of how they were washed up on the cliff +and vowed to build a church in gratitude to God and St. +Tugdual on the very spot where they escaped from the sea, +of how they quarrelled about the site because each sister +wished to commemorate the exact spot where she was saved, +and of how finally one built the tower on her spot and the +other built the church on hers, which was the reason why the +church and the tower were not joined to this day. When +Mark went home that afternoon, he searched among his +grandfather's books until he found the story of St. Tugdual +who, it seemed, was a holy man in Brittany, so holy that +he was summoned to be Pope of Rome. When he had +been Pope for a few months, an angel appeared to him and +said that he must come back at once to Brittany, because +since he went to Rome all the women were become barren.</p> + +<p>"But how am I to go back all the way from Rome to +Brittany?" St. Tugdual asked.</p> + +<p>"I have a white horse waiting for you," the angel replied.</p> + +<p>And sure enough there was a beautiful white horse with +wings, which carried St. Tugdual back to Brittany in a few +minutes.</p> + +<p>"What does it mean when a woman becomes barren?" +Mark inquired of his mother.</p> + +<p>"It means when she does not have any more children, +darling," said Mrs. Lidderdale, who did not believe in telling +lies about anything.</p> + +<p>And because she answered her son simply, her son did +not perplex himself with shameful speculations, but was +glad that St. Tugdual went back home so that the women +of Brittany were able to have children again.</p> + +<p>Everything was simple at Nancepean except the +parishioners; but Mark was still too young and too simple +himself to apprehend their complicacy. The simplest thing +of all was the Vicar's religion, and at an age when for most +children religion means being dressed up to go into the +drawing-room and say how d'you do to God, Mark was +allowed to go to church in his ordinary clothes and after +church to play at whatever he wanted to play, so that he +learned to regard the assemblage of human beings to worship +God as nothing more remarkable than the song of birds. +He was too young to have experienced yet a personal need +of religion; but he had already been touched by that grace +of fellowship which is conferred upon a small congregation, +the individual members of which are in church to please +themselves rather than to impress others. This was always +the case in the church of Nancepean, which had to contend +not merely with the popularity of methodism, but also with +the situation of the Chapel in the middle of the village. On +the dark December evenings there would be perhaps not +more than half a dozen worshippers, each one of whom +would have brought his own candle and stuck it on the shelf +of the pew. The organist would have two candles for the +harmonium; the choir of three little boys and one little girl +would have two between them; the altar would have two; +the Vicar would have two. But when all the candle-light was +put together, it left most of the church in shadow; indeed, +it scarcely even illuminated the space between the worshippers, +so that each one seemed wrapped in a golden aura of +prayer, most of all when at Evensong the people knelt in +silence for a minute while the sound of the sea without rose +and fell and the noise of the wind scuttling through the ivy +on the walls was audible. When the congregation had gone +out and the Vicar was standing at the churchyard gate saying +"good night," Mark used to think that they must all be feeling +happy to go home together up the long hill to Pendhu and +down into twinkling Nancepean. And it did not matter +whether it was a night of clear or clouded moonshine or a +night of windy stars or a night of darkness; for when it was +dark he could always look back from the valley road and see +a company of lanthorns moving homeward; and that more +than anything shed upon his young spirit the grace of human +fellowship and the love of mankind.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII" />CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE WRECK</h3> + + +<p>One wild night in late October of the year before he +would be thirteen, Mark was lying awake hoping, as +on such nights he always hoped, to hear somebody shout +"A wreck! A wreck!" A different Mark from that one who +used to lie trembling in Lima Street lest he should hear a +shout of "Fire! or Thieves!"</p> + +<p>And then it happened! It happened as a hundred times +he had imagined its happening, so exactly that he could +hardly believe for a moment he was not dreaming. There +was the flash of a lanthorn on the ceiling, a thunderous, +knocking on the Vicarage door. Mark leapt out of bed; +flinging open his window through which the wind rushed +in like a flight of angry birds, he heard voices below in the +garden shouting "Parson! Parson! Parson Trehawke! +There's a brig driving in fast toward Church Cove." He did +not wait to hear more, but dashed along the passage to rouse +first his grandfather, then his mother, and then Emma, the +Vicar's old cook.</p> + +<p>"And you must get soup ready," he cried, standing over +the old woman in his flannel pyjamas and waving his arms +excitedly, while downstairs the cuckoo popped in and out +of his door in the clock twelve times. Emma blinked at him +in terror, and Mark pulled off all the bedclothes to convince +the old woman that he was not playing a practical joke. Then +he rushed back to his own room and began to dress for dear +life.</p> + +<p>"Mother," he shouted, while he was dressing, "the Captain +can sleep in my bed, if he isn't drowned, can't he?"</p> + +<p>"Darling, do you really want to go down to the sea on +such a night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother," he gasped, "I'm practically dressed. And +you will see that Emma has lots of hot soup ready, won't +you? Because it'll be much better to bring all the crew back +here. I don't think they'd want to walk all that way over +Pendhu to Nancepean after they'd been wrecked, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you must ask grandfather first before you make +arrangements for his house."</p> + +<p>"Grandfather's simply tearing into his clothes; Ernie +Hockin and Joe Dunstan have both got lanthorns, and I'll +carry ours, so if one blows out we shall be all right. Oh, +mother, the wind's simply shrieking through the trees. Can +you hear it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dearest, I certainly can. I think you'd better shut +your windows. It's blowing everything about in your room +most uncomfortably."</p> + +<p>Mark's soul expanded in gratitude to God when he found +himself neither in a dream nor in a story, but actually, and +without any possibility of self-deception hurrying down the +drive toward the sea beside Ernie and Joe, who had come +from the village to warn the Vicar of the wreck and were +wearing oilskins and sou'westers, thus striking the keynote +as it were of the night's adventure. At first in the shelter +of the holm-oaks the storm seemed far away overhead; but +when they turned the corner and took the road along the +valley, the wind caught them full in the face and Mark was +blown back violently against the swinging gate of the drive. +The light of the lanthorns shining on a rut in the road +showed a field-mouse hurrying inland before the rushing +gale. Mark bent double to force himself to keep up with +the others, lest somebody should think, by his inability to +maintain an equal pace that he ought to follow the field-mouse +back home. After they had struggled on for a while +a bend of the valley gave them a few minutes of easy +progress and Mark listened while Ernie Hockin explained to +the Vicar what had happened:</p> + +<p>"Just before dark Eddowes the coastguard said he +reckoned there was a brig making very heavy weather of it +and he shouldn't be surprised if she come ashore tonight. +Couldn't seem to beat out of the bay noways, he said. And +afterwards about nine o'clock when me and Joe here and +some of the chaps were in the bar to the Hanover, Eddowes +come in again and said she was in a bad way by the looks +of her last thing he saw, and he telephoned along to Lanyon +to ask if they'd seen her down to the lifeboat house. They +reckoned she was all right to the lifeboat, and old man +Timbury who do always go against anything Eddowes do +say shouted that of course she was all right because he'd +taken a look at her through his glass before it grew dark. +Of course she was all right. 'She's on a lee shore,' said +Eddowes. 'It don't take a coastguard to tell that,' said old +man Timbury. And then they got to talking one against +the other the same as they belong, and they'd soon got +back to the same old talk whether Jackie Fisher was the +finest admiral who ever lived or no use at all. 'What's the +good in your talking to me?' old man Timbury was saying. +'Why afore you was born I've seen' . . . and we all started +in to shout 'ships o' the line, frigates, and cavattes,' because +we belong to mock him like that, when somebody called +'Hark, listen, wasn't that a rocket?' That fetched us all +outside into the road where we stood listening. The wind +was blowing harder than ever, and there was a parcel of +sea rising. You could hear it against Shag Rock over the +wind. Eddowes, he were a bit upset to think he should have +been talking and not a-heard the rocket. But there wasn't +a light in the sky, and when we went home along about half +past nine we saw Eddowes again and he said he'd been so +far as Church Cove and should walk up along to the Bar. +No mistake, Mr. Trehawke, he's a handy chap is Eddowes +for the coastguard job. And then about eleven o'clock he +saw two rockets close in to Church Cove and he come running +back and telephoned to Lanyon, but they said no one +couldn't launch a boat to-night, and Eddowes he come +banging on the doors and windows shouting 'A Wreck' and +some of us took ropes along with Eddowes, and me and Joe +here come and fetched you along. Eddowes said he's afeard +she'll strike in Dollar Cove unless she's lucky and come +ashore in Church Cove."</p> + +<p>"How's the tide?" asked the Vicar.</p> + +<p>"About an hour of the ebb," said Ernie Hockin. "And +the moon's been up this hour and more."</p> + +<p>Just then the road turned the corner, and the world became +a waste of wind and spindrift driving inland. The noise +of the gale made it impossible for anybody to talk, and Mark +was left wondering whether the ship had actually struck or +not. The wind drummed in his ears, the flying grit and +gravel and spray stung his face; but he struggled on hoping +that this midnight walk would not come to an abrupt end +by his grandfather's declining to go any farther. Above the +drumming of the wind the roar of the sea became more +audible every moment; the spume was thicker; the end of +the valley, ordinarily the meeting-place of sand and grass +and small streams with their yellow flags and forget-me-nots, +was a desolation of white foam beyond which against +the cliffs showing black in the nebulous moonlight the +breakers leapt high with frothy tongues. Mark thought that +they resembled immense ghosts clawing up to reach the +summit of the cliff. It was incredible that this hell-broth +was Church Cove.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" yelled Ernie Hockin. "Here's the bridge."</p> + +<p>It was true. One wave at the moment of high tide had +swept snarling over the stream and carried the bridge into +the meadow beyond.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to get round by the road," shouted the Vicar.</p> + +<p>They turned to the right across a ploughed field and after +scrambling through the hedge emerged in the comparative +shelter of the road down from Pendhu.</p> + +<p>"I hope the churchyard wall is all right," said the Vicar. +"I never remember such a night since I came to +Nancepean."</p> + +<p>"Sure 'nough, 'tis blowing very fierce," Joe Dunstan +agreed. "But don't you worry about the wall, Mr. Trehawke. +The worst of the water is broken by the Castle and +only comes in sideways, as you might say."</p> + +<p>When they drew near the gate of the churchyard, the rain +of sand and small pebbles was agonizing, as it swept across +up the low sandstone cliffs on that side of the Castle. Two +or three excited figures shouted for them to hurry because +she was going to strike in Dollar Cove, and everybody began +to scramble up the grassy slope, clutching at the tuffets of +thrift to aid their progress. It was calm here in the lee; +and Mark panting up the face thought of those two +princesses who were wrecked here ages ago, and he understood +now why one of them had insisted on planting the +tower deep in the foundation of this green fortress against +the wind and weather. While he was thinking this, his +head came above the sky line, his breath left him at the +assault of the wind, and he had to crawl on all fours toward +the sea. He reached the edge of the cliff just as something +like the wings of a gigantic bat flapped across the dim wet +moonlight, and before he realized that this was the brig he +heard the crashing of her spars. The watchers stood up +against the wind, battling with it to fling lines in the vain +hope of saving some sailor who was being churned to death +in that dreadful creaming of the sea below. Yes, and there +were forms of men visible on board; two had climbed the +mainmast, which crashed before they could clutch at the +ropes that were being flung to them from land, crashed and +carried them down shrieking into the surge. Mark found +it hard to believe that last summer he had spent many sunlit +hours dabbling in the sand for silver dollars of Portugal +lost perhaps on such a night as this a hundred years ago, +exactly where these two poor mariners were lost. A few +minutes after the mainmast the hull went also; but in the +nebulous moonlight nothing could be seen of any bodies +alive or dead, nothing except wreckage tossing upon the +surge. The watchers on the cliff turned away from the +wind to gather new breath and give their cheeks a rest from +the stinging fragments of rock and earth. Away up over +the towans they could see the bobbing lanthorns of men +hurrying down from Chypie where news of the wreck had +reached; and on the road from Lanyon they could see +lanthorns on the other side of Church Cove waiting until the +tide had ebbed far enough to let them cross the beach.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the Vicar shouted:</p> + +<p>"I can see a poor fellow hanging on to a ledge of rock. +Bring a rope! Bring a rope!"</p> + +<p>Eddowes the coastguard took charge of the operation, and +Mark with beating pulses watched the end of the rope touch +the huddled form below. But either from exhaustion or +because he feared to let go of the slippery ledge for one +moment the sailor made no attempt to grasp the rope. The +men above shouted to him, begged him to make an effort; +but he remained there inert.</p> + +<p>"Somebody must go down with the rope and get a slip +knot under his arms," the Vicar shouted.</p> + +<p>Nobody seemed to pay attention to this proposal, and +Mark wondered if he was the only one who had heard it. +However, when the Vicar repeated his suggestion, Eddowes +came forward, knelt down by the edge of the cliff, shook +himself like a bather who is going to plunge into what he +knows will be very cold water, and then vanished down the +rope. Everybody crawled on hand and knees to see what +would happen. Mark prayed that Eddowes, who was a +great friend of his, would not come to any harm, but that +he would rescue the sailor and be given the Albert medal +for saving life. It was Eddowes who had made him medal +wise. The coastguard struggled to slip the loop under the +man's shoulders along his legs; but it must have been impossible, +for presently he made a signal to be raised.</p> + +<p>"I can't do it alone," he shouted. "He's got a hold like +a limpet."</p> + +<p>Nobody seemed anxious to suppose that the addition of +another rescuer would be any more successful.</p> + +<p>"If there was two of us," Eddowes went on, "we might +do something."</p> + +<p>The people on the cliff shook their heads doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Isn't anybody coming down along with me to have a +try?" the coastguard demanded at the top of his voice.</p> + +<p>Mark did not hear his grandfather's reply; he only saw +him go over the cliff's edge at the end of one rope while +Eddowes went down on another. A minute later the slipknot +came untied (or that was how the accident was +explained) and the Vicar went to join the drowned mariners, +dislodging as he fell the man whom he had tried to save, +so that of the crew of the brig <i>Happy Return</i> not one ever +came to port.</p> + +<p>It would be difficult to exaggerate the effect upon Mark +Lidderdale of that night. He was twelve years old at the +time; but the years in Cornwall had retarded that precocious +development to which he seemed destined by the surroundings +of his early childhood in Lima Street, and in many +ways he was hardly any older than he was when he left +London. In after years he looked back with gratitude upon +the shock he received from what was as it were an +experience of the material impact of death, because it made +him think about death, not morbidly as so many children +and young people will, but with the apprehension of something +that really does come in a moment and for which it +is necessary for every human being to prepare his soul. +The platitudes of age may often be for youth divine +revelations, and there is nothing so stimulating as the unaided +apprehension of a great commonplace of existence. The +awe with which Mark was filled that night was too vast to +evaporate in sentiment, and when two days after this there +came news from Africa that his father had died of black-water +fever that awe was crystallized indeed. Mark looking +round at his small world perceived that nobody was safe. +To-morrow his mother might die; to-morrow he might die +himself. In any case the death of his grandfather would +have meant a profound change in the future of his +mother's life and his own; the living of Nancepean would +fall to some other priest and with it the house in which they +lived. Parson Trehawke had left nothing of any value +except Gould's <i>Birds of Great Britain</i> and a few other works +of ornithology. The furniture of the Vicarage was rich +neither in quality nor in quantity. Three or four hundred +pounds was the most his daughter could inherit. She had +spoken to Mark of their poverty, because in her dismay for +the future of her son she had no heart to pretend that the +dead man's money was of little importance.</p> + +<p>"I must write and ask your father what we ought to +do." . . . She stopped in painful awareness of the possessive +pronoun. Mark was unresponsive, until there came +the news from Africa, which made him throw his arms about +his mother's neck while she was still alive. Mrs. Lidderdale, +whatever bitterness she may once have felt for the ruin of +her married life, shed fresh tears of sorrow for her husband, +and supposing that Mark's embrace was the expression of +his sympathy wept more, as people will when others are +sorry for them, and then still more because the future for +Mark seemed hopeless. How was she to educate him? How +clothe him? How feed him even? At her age where and +how could she earn money? She reproached herself with +having been too ready out of sensitiveness to sacrifice Mark +to her own pride. She had had no right to leave her husband +and live in the country like this. She should have repressed +her own emotion and thought only of the family life, to +the maintenance of which by her marriage she had committed +herself. At first it had seemed the best thing for Mark; +but she should have remembered that her father could not +live for ever and that one day she would have to face the +problem of life without his help and his hospitality. She +began to imagine that the disaster of that stormy night had +been contrived by God to punish her, and she prayed to Him +that her chastisement should not be increased, that at least +her son might be spared to her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lidderdale was able to stay on at the Vicarage for +several weeks, because the new Vicar of Nancepean was not +able to take over his charge immediately. This delay gave +her time to hold a sale of her father's furniture, at which +the desire of the neighbours to be generous fought with +their native avarice, so that in the end the furniture fetched +neither more nor less than had been expected, which was +little enough. She kept back enough to establish herself and +Mark in rooms, should she be successful in finding some +unfurnished rooms sufficiently cheap to allow her to take +them, although how she was going to live for more than +two years on what she had was a riddle of which after a +month of sleepless nights she had not found the solution.</p> + +<p>In the end, and as Mrs. Lidderdale supposed in answer +to her prayers, the solution was provided unexpectedly in +the following letter:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Haverton House,</p> + +<p>Elmhurst Road,</p> + +<p>Slowbridge.</p> + +<p>November 29th.</p> + +<p>Dear Grace,</p> + +<p>I have just received a letter from James written when he +was at the point of death in Africa. It appears that in his +zeal to convert the heathen to Popery he omitted to make +any provision for his wife and child, so that in the event of +his death, unless either your relatives or his relatives came +forward to support you I was given to understand that you +would be destitute. I recently read in the daily paper an +account of the way in which your father Mr. Trehawke lost +his life, and I caused inquiries to be made in Rosemarket +about your prospects. These my informant tells me are not +any too bright. You will, I am sure, pardon my having made +these inquiries without reference to you, but I did not feel +justified in offering you and my nephew a home with my +sister Helen and myself unless I had first assured myself +that some such offer was necessary. You are probably aware +that for many years my brother James and myself have not +been on the best of terms. I on my side found his religious +teaching so eccentric as to repel me; he on his side was so +bigoted that he could not tolerate my tacit disapproval. Not +being a Ritualist but an Evangelical, I can perhaps bring +myself more easily to forgive my brother's faults and at +the same time indulge my theories of duty, as opposed to +forms and ceremonies, theories that if carried out by everybody +would soon transform our modern Christianity. You +are no doubt a Ritualist, and your son has no doubt been +educated in the same school. Let me hasten to give you +my word that I shall not make the least attempt to interfere +either with your religious practices or with his. The quarrel +between myself and James was due almost entirely to James' +inability to let me and my opinions alone.</p> + +<p>I am far from being a rich man, in fact I may say at once +that I am scarcely even "comfortably off" as the phrase goes. +It would therefore be outside my capacity to undertake the +expense of any elaborate education for your son; but my +own school, which while it does not pretend to compete with +some of the fashionable establishments of the time is I venture +to assert a first class school and well able to send your +son into the world at the age of sixteen as well equipped, +and better equipped than he would be if he went to one of +the famous public schools. I possess some influence with a +firm of solicitors, and I have no doubt that when my nephew, +who is I believe now twelve years old, has had the necessary +schooling I shall be able to secure him a position as an +articled clerk, from which if he is honest and industrious he +may be able to rise to the position of a junior partner. If +you have saved anything from the sale of your father's +effects I should advise you to invest the sum. However small +it is, you will find the extra money useful, for as I remarked +before I shall not be able to afford to do more than lodge +and feed you both, educate your son, find him in clothes, +and start him in a career on the lines I have already indicated. +My local informant tells me that you have kept back +a certain amount of your father's furniture in order to take +lodgings elsewhere. As this will now be unnecessary I hope +that you will sell the rest. Haverton House is sufficiently +furnished, and we should not be able to find room for any +more furniture. I suggest your coming to us next Friday. +It will be easiest for you to take the fast train up to Paddington +when you will be able to catch the 6.45 to Slowbridge +arriving at 7.15. We usually dine at 7.30, but on Friday +dinner will be at 8 p.m. in order to give you plenty of time. +Helen sends her love. She would have written also, but I +assured her that one letter was enough, and that a very long +one.</p> + +<p>Your affectionate brother-in-law,</p> + +<p>Henry Lidderdale.</p></div> + +<p>Mrs. Lidderdale would no doubt have criticized this letter +more sharply if she had not regarded it as inspired, almost +actually written by the hand of God. Whatever in it was +displeasing to her she accepted as the Divine decree, and if +anybody had pointed out the inconsistency of some of the +opinions therein expressed with its Divine authorship, she +would have dismissed the objection as made by somebody +who was incapable of comprehending the mysterious action +of God.</p> + +<p>"Mark," she called to her son. "What do you think has +happened? Your Uncle Henry has offered us a home. I +want you to write to him like a dear boy and thank him for +his kindness." She explained in detail what Uncle Henry +intended to do for them; but Mark would not be enthusiastic. +He on his side had been praying to God to put it into the +mind of Samuel Dale to offer him a job on his farm; Slowbridge +was a poor substitute for that.</p> + +<p>"Where is Slowbridge?" he asked in a gloomy voice.</p> + +<p>"It's a fairly large place near London," his mother +told him. "It's near Eton and Windsor and Stoke Poges +where Gray wrote his Elegy, which we learned last summer. +You remember, don't you?" she asked anxiously, for she +wanted Mark to cut a figure with his uncle.</p> + +<p>"Wolfe liked it," said Mark. "And I like it too," he +added ungraciously. He wished that he could have said he +hated it; but Mark always found it difficult to tell a lie +about his personal feelings, or about any facts that involved +him in a false position.</p> + +<p>"And now before you go down to tea with Cass Dale, you +will write to your uncle, won't you, and show me the letter?"</p> + +<p>Mark groaned.</p> + +<p>"It's so difficult to thank people. It makes me feel silly."</p> + +<p>"Well, darling, mother wants you to. So sit down like a +dear boy and get it done."</p> + +<p>"I think my nib is crossed."</p> + +<p>"Is it? You'll find another in my desk."</p> + +<p>"But, mother, yours are so thick."</p> + +<p>"Please, Mark, don't make any more excuses. Don't you +want to do everything you can to help me just now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," said Mark penitently, and sitting down +in the window he stared out at the yellow November sky, +and at the magpies flying busily from one side of the valley +to the other.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Vicarage,</p> + +<p>Nancepean,</p> + +<p>South Cornwall.</p> + +<p>My dear Uncle Henry,</p> + +<p>Thank you very much for your kind invitation to come +and live with you. We should enjoy it very much. I am +going to tea with a friend of mine called Cass Dale who lives +in Nancepean, and so I must stop now. With love,</p> + +<p>I remain,</p> + +<p>Your loving nephew,</p> + +<p>Mark.</p></div> + +<p>And then the pen must needs go and drop a blot like a +balloon right over his name, so that the whole letter had to +be copied out again before his mother would say that she +was satisfied, by which time the yellow sky was dun and +the magpies were gone to rest.</p> + +<p>Mark left the Dales about half past six, and was accompanied +by Cass to the brow of Pendhu. At this point Cass +declined to go any farther in spite of Mark's reminder that +this would be one of the last walks they would take together, +if it were not absolutely the very last.</p> + +<p>"No," said Cass. "I wouldn't come up from Church Cove +myself not for anything."</p> + +<p>"But I'm going down by myself," Mark argued. "If I +hadn't thought you'd come all the way with me, I'd have gone +home by the fields. What are you afraid of?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid of nothing, but I don't want to walk so +far by myself. I've come up the hill with 'ee. Now 'tis all +down hill for both of us, and that's fair."</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right," said Mark, turning away in resentment +at his friend's desertion.</p> + +<p>Both boys ran off in opposite directions, Cass past the +splash of light thrown across the road by the windows of +the Hanover Inn, and on toward the scattered lights of +Nancepean, Mark into the gloom of the deep lane down to +Church Cove. It was a warm and humid evening that +brought out the smell of the ferns and earth in the high +banks on either side, and presently at the bottom of the hill +the smell of the seaweed heaped up in Church Cove by weeks +of gales. The moon, about three days from the full, was +already up, shedding her aqueous lustre over the towans of +Chypie, which slowly penetrated the black gulfs of shadow +in the countryside until Mark could perceive the ghost of +a familiar landscape. There came over him, whose emotion +had already been sprung by the insensibility of Cass, an +overwhelming awareness of parting, and he gave to the +landscape the expression of sentiment he had yearned to give +his friend. His fear of seeing the spirits of the drowned +sailors, or as he passed the churchyard gate of perceiving +behind that tamarisk the tall spectre of his grandfather, +which on the way down from Pendhu had seemed impossible +to combat, had died away; and in his despair at losing this +beloved scene he wandered on past the church until he stood +at the edge of the tide. On this humid autumnal night the +oily sea collapsed upon the beach as if it, like everything +else in nature, was overcome by the prevailing heaviness. +Mark sat down upon some tufts of samphire and watched +the Stag Light occulting out across St. Levan's Bay, distant +forty miles and more, and while he sat he perceived a glow-worm +at his feet creeping along a sprig of samphire that +marked the limit of the tide's advance. How did the +samphire know that it was safe to grow where it did, and +how did the glow-worm know that the samphire was safe?</p> + +<p>Mark was suddenly conscious of the protection of God, +for might not he expect as much as the glow-worm and the +samphire? The ache of separation from Nancepean was +assuaged. That dread of the future, with which the impact +of death had filled him, was allayed.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, sister glow-worm," he said aloud in imitation +of St. Francis. "Good-night, brother samphire."</p> + +<p>A drift of distant fog had obliterated the Stag Light; but +of her samphire the glow-worm had made a moonlit forest, +so brightly was she shining, yes, a green world of interlacing, +lucid boughs.</p> + +<p><i>Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your +good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.</i></p> + +<p>And Mark, aspiring to thank God Who had made manifest +His protection, left Nancepean three days later with the +determination to become a lighthouse-keeper, to polish well +his lamp and tend it with care, so that men passing by in +ships should rejoice at his good works and call him brother +lighthouse-keeper, and glorify God their Father when they +walked again upon the grass, harking to the pleasant song +of birds and the hum of bees.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX" />CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>SLOWBRIDGE</h3> + + +<p>When Mark came to live with Uncle Henry Lidderdale +at Slowbridge, he was large for his age, or at any +rate he was so loosely jointed as to appear large; a swart +complexion, prominent cheek-bones, and straight lank hair +gave him a melancholic aspect, the impression of which +remained with the observer until he heard the boy laugh in a +paroxysm of merriment that left his dark blue eyes dancing +long after the outrageous noise had died down. If Mark +had occasion to relate some episode that appealed to him, +his laughter would accompany the narrative like a pack of +hounds in full cry, would as it were pursue the tale to its +death, and communicate its zest to the listener, who would +think what a sense of humour Mark had, whereas it was +more truly the gusto of life.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry found this laughter boisterous and irritating; +if his nephew had been a canary in a cage, he would have +covered him with a table-cloth. Aunt Helen, if she was +caught up in one of Mark's narratives, would twitch until it +was finished, when she would rub her forehead with an acorn +of menthol and wrap herself more closely in a shawl of soft +Shetland wool. The antipathy that formerly existed between +Mark and his father was much sharper between Mark and +his uncle. It was born in the instant of their first meeting, +when Uncle Henry bent over, his trunk at right angles to +his legs, so that one could fancy the pelvic bones to be +clicking like the wooden joints of a monkey on a stick, and +offered his nephew an acrid whisker to be saluted.</p> + +<p>"And what is Mark going to be?" Uncle Henry inquired.</p> + +<p>"A lighthouse-keeper."</p> + +<p>"Ah, we all have suchlike ambitions when we are young. +I remember that for nearly a year I intended to be a muffin-man," +said Uncle Henry severely.</p> + +<p>Mark hated his uncle from that moment, and he fixed +upon the throbbing pulse of his scraped-out temples as the +feature upon which that dislike should henceforth be concentrated. +Uncle Henry's pulse seemed to express all the +vitality that was left to him; Mark thought that Our Lord +must have felt about the barren fig-tree much as he felt +about Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>Aunt Helen annoyed Mark in the way that one is annoyed +by a cushion in an easy chair. It is soft and apparently +comfortable, but after a minute or two one realizes that it +is superfluous, and it is pushed over the arm to the floor. Unfortunately +Aunt Helen could not be treated like a cushion; +and there she was soft and comfortable in appearance, but +forever in Mark's way. Aunt Helen was the incarnation of +her own drawing-room. Her face was round and stupid +like a clock's; she wore brocaded gowns and carpet slippers; +her shawls resembled antimacassars; her hair was like the +stuff that is put in grates during the summer; her caps were +like lace curtains tied back with velvet ribbons; cameos leant +against her bosom as if they were upon a mantelpiece. Mark +never overcame his dislike of kissing Aunt Helen, for it +gave him a sensation every time that a bit of her might stick +to his lips. He lacked that solemn sense of relationship with +which most children are imbued, and the compulsory +intimacy offended him, particularly when his aunt referred +to little boys generically as if they were beetles or mice. Her +inability to appreciate that he was Mark outraged his young +sense of personality which was further dishonoured by the +manner in which she spoke of herself as Aunt Helen, thus +seeming to imply that he was only human at all in so far as +he was her nephew. She continually shocked his dignity by +prescribing medicine for him without regard to the presence +of servants or visitors; and nothing gave her more obvious +pleasure than to get Mark into the drawing-room on afternoons +when dreary mothers of pupils came to call, so that +she might bully him under the appearance of teaching good +manners, and impress the parents with the advantages of a +Haverton House education.</p> + +<p>As long as his mother remained alive, Mark tried to make +her happy by pretending that he enjoyed living at Haverton +House, that he enjoyed his uncle's Preparatory School for +the Sons of Gentlemen, that he enjoyed Slowbridge with its +fogs and laburnums, its perambulators and tradesmen's carts +and noise of whistling trains; but a year after they left +Nancepean Mrs. Lidderdale died of pneumonia, and Mark +was left alone with his uncle and aunt.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't realize what death means," said Aunt Helen, +when Mark on the very afternoon of the funeral without +even waiting to change out of his best clothes began to play +with soldiers instead of occupying himself with the preparation +of lessons that must begin again on the morrow.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if you will play with soldiers when Aunt Helen +dies?" she pressed.</p> + +<p>"No," said Mark quickly, "I shall work at my lessons +when you die."</p> + +<p>His uncle and aunt looked at him suspiciously. They +could find no fault with the answer; yet something in the +boy's tone, some dreadful suppressed exultation made them +feel that they ought to find severe fault with the answer.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be kinder to your poor mother's memory," +Aunt Helen suggested, "wouldn't it be more becoming now +to work harder at your lessons when your mother is watching +you from above?"</p> + +<p>Mark would not condescend to explain why he was +playing with soldiers, nor with what passionate sorrow he +was recalling every fleeting expression on his mother's face, +every slight intonation of her voice when she was able to +share in his game; he hated his uncle and aunt so profoundly +that he revelled in their incapacity to understand him, and +he would have accounted it a desecration of her memory to +share his grief with them.</p> + +<p>Haverton House School was a depressing establishment; +in after years when Mark looked back at it he used to wonder +how it had managed to survive so long, for when he came +to live at Slowbridge it had actually been in existence for +twenty years, and his uncle was beginning to look forward +to the time when Old Havertonians, as he called them, would +be bringing their sons to be educated at the old place. There +were about fifty pupils, most of them the sons of local +tradesmen, who left when they were about fourteen, though +a certain number lingered on until they were as much as +sixteen in what was called the Modern Class, where they +were supposed to receive at least as practical an education +as they would have received behind the counter, and certainly +a more genteel one. Fine fellows those were in the Modern +Class at Haverton House, stalwart heroes who made up the +cricket and football teams and strode about the playing fields +of Haverton House with as keen a sense of their own importance +as Etonians of comparable status in their playing +fields not more than two miles away. Mark when everything +else in his school life should be obliterated by time would +remember their names and prowess. . . . Borrow, Tull, +Yarde, Corke, Vincent, Macdougal, Skinner, they would +keep throughout his life some of that magic which clings to +Diomed and Deiphobus, to Hector and Achilles.</p> + +<p>Apart from these heroic names the atmosphere of Haverton +House was not inspiring. It reduced the world to the +size and quality of one of those scratched globes with which +Uncle Henry demonstrated geography. Every subject at +Haverton House, no matter how interesting it promised to +be, was ruined from an educative point of view by its +impedimenta of dates, imports, exports, capitals, capes, and +Kings of Israel and Judah. Neither Uncle Henry nor his +assistants Mr. Spaull and Mr. Palmer believed in departing +from the book. Whatever books were chosen for the term's +curriculum were regarded as something for which money +had been paid and from which the last drop of information +must be squeezed to justify in the eyes of parents the expenditure. +The teachers considered the notes more important +than the text; genealogical tables were exalted above +anything on the same page. Some books of history were +adorned with illustrations; but no use was made of them +by the masters, and for the pupils they merely served as +outlines to which, were they the outlines of human beings, +inky beards and moustaches had to be affixed, or were they +landscapes, flights of birds.</p> + +<p>Mr. Spaull was a fat flabby young man with a heavy fair +moustache, who was reading for Holy Orders; Mr. Palmer +was a stocky bow-legged young man in knickerbockers, who +was good at football and used to lament the gentle birth that +prevented his becoming a professional. The boys called him +Gentleman Joe; but they were careful not to let Mr. Palmer +hear them, for he had a punch and did not believe in cuddling +the young. He used to jeer openly at his colleague, Mr. +Spaull, who never played football, never did anything in the +way of exercise except wrestle flirtatiously with the boys, +while Mr. Palmer was bellowing up and down the field of +play and charging his pupils with additional vigour to +counteract the feebleness of Mr. Spaull. Poor Mr. Spaull, +he was ordained about three years after Mark came to Slowbridge, +and a week later he was run over by a brewer's dray +and killed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X" />CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>WHIT-SUNDAY</h3> + + +<p>Mark at the age of fifteen was a bitter, lonely, and +unattractive boy. Three years of Haverton House, +three years of Uncle Henry's desiccated religion, three years +of Mr. Palmer's athletic education and Mr. Spaull's milksop +morality, three years of wearing clothes that were too small +for him, three years of Haverton House cooking, three years +of warts and bad haircutting, of ink and Aunt Helen's confident +purging had destroyed that gusto for life which when +Mark first came to Slowbridge used to express itself in such +loud laughter. Uncle Henry probably supposed that the +cure of his nephew's irritating laugh was the foundation +stone of that successful career, which it would soon be time +to discuss in detail. The few months between now and +Mark's sixteenth birthday would soon pass, however dreary +the restrictions of Haverton House, and then it would be +time to go and talk to Mr. Hitchcock about that articled +clerkship toward the fees for which the small sum left by +his mother would contribute. Mark was so anxious to be +finished with Haverton House that he would have welcomed +a prospect even less attractive than Mr. Hitchcock's office +in Finsbury Square; it never occurred to him that the money +left by his mother could be spent to greater advantage for +himself. By now it was over £500, and Uncle Henry on +Sunday evenings when he was feeling comfortably replete +with the day's devotion would sometimes allude to his having +left the interest to accumulate and would urge Mark to be +up and doing in order to show his gratitude for all that he +and Aunt Helen had conferred upon him. Mark felt no +gratitude; in fact at this period he felt nothing except a kind +of surly listlessness. He was like somebody who through +the carelessness of his nurse or guardian has been crippled +in youth, and who is preparing to enter the world with a +suppressed resentment against everybody and everything.</p> + +<p>"Not still hankering after a lighthouse?" Uncle Henry +asked, and one seemed to hear his words snapping like dry +twigs beneath the heavy tread of his mind.</p> + +<p>"I'm not hankering after anything," Mark replied sullenly.</p> + +<p>"But you're looking forward to Mr. Hitchcock's office?" +his uncle proceeded.</p> + +<p>Mark grunted an assent in order to be left alone, and the +entrance of Mr. Palmer who always had supper with his +headmaster and employer on Sunday evening, brought the +conversation to a close.</p> + +<p>At supper Mr. Palmer asked suddenly if the headmaster +wanted Mark to go into the Confirmation Class this term.</p> + +<p>"No thanks," said Mark.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"I fancy that is for me to decide."</p> + +<p>"Neither my father nor my mother nor my grandfather +would have wanted me to be confirmed against my will," +Mark declared. He was angry without knowing his reasons, +angry in response to some impulse of the existence of which +he had been unaware until he began to speak. He only knew +that if he surrendered on this point he should never be able +to act for himself again.</p> + +<p>"Are you suggesting that you should never be confirmed?" +his uncle required.</p> + +<p>"I'm not suggesting anything," said Mark. "But I can +remember my father's saying once that boys ought to be +confirmed before they are thirteen. My mother just before +she died wanted me to be confirmed, but it couldn't be +arranged, and now I don't intend to be confirmed till I feel +I want to be confirmed. I don't want to be prepared for +confirmation as if it was a football match. If you force me +to go to the confirmation I'll refuse to answer the Bishop's +questions. You can't make me answer against my will."</p> + +<p>"Mark dear," said Aunt Helen, "I think you'd better take +some Eno's Fruit Salts to-morrow morning." In her +nephew's present mood she did not dare to prescribe anything +stronger.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to take anything to-morrow morning," said +Mark angrily.</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to thrash you?" Uncle Henry +demanded.</p> + +<p>Mr. Palmer's eyes glittered with the zeal of muscular +Christianity.</p> + +<p>"You'll be sorry for it if you do," said Mark. "You can +of course, if you get Mr. Palmer to help you, but you'll be +sorry if you do."</p> + +<p>Mr. Palmer looked at his chief as a terrier looks at his +master when a rabbit is hiding in a bush. But the headmaster's +vanity would not allow him to summon help to +punish his own nephew, and he weakly contented himself +with ordering Mark to be silent.</p> + +<p>"It strikes me that Spaull is responsible for this sort of +thing," said Mr. Palmer. "He always resented my having +any hand in the religious teaching."</p> + +<p>"That poor worm!" Mark scoffed.</p> + +<p>"Mark, he's dead," Aunt Helen gasped. "You mustn't +speak of him like that."</p> + +<p>"Get out of the room and go to bed," Uncle Henry +shouted.</p> + +<p>Mark retired with offensive alacrity, and while he was +undressing he wondered drearily why he had made himself +so conspicuous on this Sunday evening out of so many +Sunday evenings. What did it matter whether he were confirmed +or not? What did anything matter except to get +through the next year and be finished with Haverton House?</p> + +<p>He was more sullen than ever during the week, but on +Saturday he had the satisfaction of bowling Mr. Palmer in +the first innings of a match and in the second innings of +hitting him on the jaw with a rising ball.</p> + +<p>The next day he rose at five o'clock on a glorious morning +in early June and walked rapidly away from Slowbridge. +By ten o'clock he had reached a country of rolling beech-woods, +and turning aside from the high road he wandered +over the bare nutbrown soil that gave the glossy leaves high +above a green unparagoned, a green so lambent that the +glimpses of the sky beyond seemed opaque as turquoises +amongst it. In quick succession Mark saw a squirrel, a +woodpecker, and a jay, creatures so perfectly expressive of +the place, that they appeared to him more like visions than +natural objects; and when they were gone he stood with +beating heart in silence as if in a moment the trees should +fly like woodpeckers, the sky flash and flutter its blue like +a jay's wing, and the very earth leap like a squirrel for +his amazement. Presently he came to an open space where +the young bracken was springing round a pool. He flung +himself down in the frondage, and the spice of it in his +nostrils was as if he were feeding upon summer. He was +happy until he caught sight of his own reflection in the pool, +and then he could not bear to stay any longer in this wood, +because unlike the squirrel and the woodpecker and the jay +he was an ugly intruder here, a scarecrow in ill-fitting +clothes, round the ribbon of whose hat like a chain ran the +yellow zigzag of Haverton House. He became afraid of +the wood, perceiving nothing round him now except an +assemblage of menacing trunks, a slow gathering of angry +and forbidding branches. The silence of the day was +dreadful in this wood, and Mark fled from it until he +emerged upon a brimming clover-ley full of drunken bees, +a merry clover-ley dancing in the sun, across which the +sound of church bells was being blown upon a honeyed +wind. Mark welcomed the prospect of seeing ugly people +again after the humiliation inflicted upon him by the wood; +and he followed a footpath at the far end of the ley across +several stiles, until he stood beneath the limes that overhung +the churchyard gate and wondered if he should go inside to +the service. The bells were clanging an agitated final appeal +to the worshippers; and Mark, unable to resist, allowed +himself to flow toward the cool dimness within. There with +a thrill he recognized the visible signs of his childhood's +religion, and now after so many years he perceived with new +eyes an unfamiliar beauty in the crossings and genuflexions, +in the pictures and images. The world which had lately +seemed so jejune was crowded like a dream, a dream moreover +that did not elude the recollection of it in the moment +of waking, but that stayed with him for the rest of his life +as the evidence of things not seen, which is Faith.</p> + +<p>It was during the Gospel that Mark began to realize that +what was being said and done at the Altar demanded not +merely his attention but also his partaking. All the services +he had attended since he came to Slowbridge had demanded +nothing from him, and even when he was at Nancepean he +had always been outside the sacred mysteries. But now on +this Whit-sunday morning he heard in the Gospel:</p> + +<p><i>Hereafter I will not talk much with you: for the prince of +this world cometh and hath nothing in me.</i></p> + +<p>And while he listened it seemed that Jesus Christ was +departing from him, and that unless he were quick to offer +himself he should be left to the prince of this world; so +black was Mark's world in those days that the Prince of it +meant most unmistakably the Prince of Darkness, and the +prophecy made him shiver with affright. With conviction +he said the Nicene Creed, and when the celebrating priest, +a tall fair man, with a gentle voice and of a mild and +benignant aspect, went up into the pulpit and announced that +there would be a confirmation in his church on the Feast +of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary Mark felt in +this newly found assurance of being commanded by God to +follow Him that somehow he must be confirmed in this +church and prepared by this kindly priest. The sermon was +about the coming of the Holy Ghost and of our bodies which +are His temple. Any other Sunday Mark would have sat +in a stupor, while his mind would occasionally have taken +flights of activity, counting the lines of a prayer-book's page +or following the tributaries in the grain of the pew in front; +but on this Sunday he sat alert, finding every word of the +discourse applicable to himself.</p> + +<p>On other Sundays the first sentence of the Offertory would +have passed unheeded in the familiarity of its repetition, but +this morning it took him back to that night in Church Cove +when he saw the glow-worm by the edge of the tide and made +up his mind to be a lighthouse-keeper.</p> + +<p><i>Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your +good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.</i></p> + +<p>"I will be a priest," Mark vowed to himself.</p> + +<p><i>Give grace, O heavenly Father, to all Bishops and Curates +that they may both by their life and doctrines set forth thy +true and lively word, and rightly and duly administer thy +holy Sacraments.</i></p> + +<p>"I will, I will," he vowed.</p> + +<p><i>Hear what comfortable words our Saviour Christ saith +unto all that truly turn to him. Come unto me all that +travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.</i></p> + +<p>Mark prayed that with such words he might when he was +a priest bring consolation.</p> + +<p><i>Through Jesus Christ our Lord; according to whose most +true promise, the Holy Ghost came down as at this time +from heaven with a sudden great sound, as it had been a +mighty wind, in the likeness of fiery tongues, lighting upon +the Apostles, to teach them and to lead them to all truth;</i></p> + +<p>The red chasuble of the priest glowed with Pentecostal +light.</p> + +<p class="nind"><i>giving them both the gift of divers languages, and also +boldness with fervent seal constantly to preach the Gospel +unto all nations; whereby we have been brought out of +darkness and error into the clear light and true knowledge +of thee, and of thy Son Jesus Christ.</i></p> + +<p>And when after this proper preface of Whit-sunday, +which seemed to Mark to be telling him what was expected +of his priesthood by God, the quire sang the Sanctus, +<i>Therefore with Angels and Archangels, and with all the +company of heaven, we laud and magnify thy glorious +Name; evermore praising thee, and saying, Holy, Holy, +Holy, Lord God of Hosts, heaven and earth are full of thy +glory: Glory be to thee, O Lord most High. Amen</i>, that +sublime proclamation spoke the fullness of his aspiring +heart.</p> + +<p>Mark came out of church with the rest of the congregation, +and walked down the road toward the roofs of the +little village, on the outskirts of which he could not help +stopping to admire a small garden full of pinks in front +of two thatched cottages that had evidently been made into +one house. While he was standing there looking over the +trim quickset hedge, an old lady with silvery hair came +slowly down the road, paused a moment by the gate before +she went in, and then asked Mark if she had not seen him in +church. Mark felt embarrassed at being discovered looking +over a hedge into somebody's garden; but he managed to +murmur an affirmative and turned to go away.</p> + +<p>"Stop," said the old lady waving at him her ebony crook, +"do not run away, young gentleman. I see that you admire +my garden. Pray step inside and look more closely at it."</p> + +<p>Mark thought at first by her manner of speech that she +was laughing at him; but soon perceiving that she was in +earnest he followed her inside, and walked behind her along +the narrow winding paths, nodding with an appearance of +profound interest when she poked at some starry clump and +invited his admiration. As they drew nearer the house, the +smell of the pinks was merged in the smell of hot roast +beef, and Mark discovered that he was hungry, so hungry +indeed that he felt he could not stay any longer to be tantalized +by the odours of the Sunday dinner, but must go off +and find an inn where he could obtain bread and cheese as +quickly as possible. He was preparing an excuse to get +away, when the garden wicket clicked, and looking up he +saw the fair priest coming down the path toward them +accompanied by two ladies, one of whom resembled him so +closely that Mark was sure she was his sister. The other, +who looked windblown in spite of the serene June weather, +had a nervous energy that contrasted with the demeanour of +the other two, whose deliberate pace seemed to worry her +so that she was continually two yards ahead and turning +round as if to urge them to walk more quickly.</p> + +<p>The old lady must have guessed Mark's intention, for +raising her stick she forbade him to move, and before he had +time to mumble an apology and flee she was introducing +the newcomers to him.</p> + +<p>"This is my daughter Miriam," she said pointing to one +who resembled her brother. "And this is my daughter +Esther. And this is my son, the Vicar. What is your +name?"</p> + +<p>Mark told her, and he should have liked to ask what hers +was, but he felt too shy.</p> + +<p>"You're going to stay and have lunch with us, I hope?" +asked the Vicar.</p> + +<p>Mark had no idea how to reply. He was much afraid +that if he accepted he should be seeming to have hung about +by the Vicarage gate in order to be invited. On the other +hand he did not know how to refuse. It would be absurd +to say that he had to get home, because they would ask him +where he lived, and at this hour of the morning he could +scarcely pretend that he expected to be back in time for lunch +twelve miles and more from where he was.</p> + +<p>"Of course he's going to stay," said the old lady.</p> + +<p>And of course Mark did stay; a delightful lunch it was +too, on chairs covered with blue holland in a green shadowed +room that smelt of dryness and ancientry. After lunch Mark +sat for a while with the Vicar in his study, which was small +and intimate with its two armchairs and bookshelves reaching +to the ceiling all round. He had not yet managed to +find out his name, and as it was obviously too late to ask +as this stage of their acquaintanceship he supposed that he +should have to wait until he left the Vicarage and could ask +somebody in the village, of which by the way he also did +not know the name.</p> + +<p>"Lidderdale," the Vicar was saying meditatively, "Lidderdale. +I wonder if you were a relative of the famous +Lidderdale of St. Wilfred's?"</p> + +<p>Mark flushed with a mixture of self-consciousness and +pleasure to hear his father spoken of as famous, and when +he explained who he was he flushed still more deeply to hear +his father's work praised with such enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"And do you hope to be a priest yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes I do rather," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"Splendid! Capital!" cried the Vicar, his kindly blue eye +beaming with approval of Mark's intention.</p> + +<p>Presently Mark was talking to him as though he had +known him for years.</p> + +<p>"There's no reason why you shouldn't be confirmed here," +the Vicar said. "No reason at all. I'll mention it to the +Bishop, and if you like I'll write to your uncle. I shall feel +justified in interfering on account of your father's opinions. +We all look upon him as one of the great pioneers of the +Movement. You must come over and lunch with us again +next Sunday. My mother will be delighted to see you. She's +a dear old thing, isn't she? I'm going to hand you over to +her now and my youngest sister. My other sister and I have +got Sunday schools to deal with. Have another cigarette? +No. Quite right. You oughtn't to smoke too much at your +age. Only just fifteen, eh? By Jove, I suppose you oughtn't +to have smoked at all. But what rot. You'd only smoke +all the more if it was absolutely forbidden. Wisdom! Wisdom! +Wisdom with the young! You don't mind being +called young? I've known boys who hated the epithet."</p> + +<p>Mark was determined to show his new friend that he did +not object to being called young, and he could think of no +better way to do it than by asking him his name, thus proving +that he did not mind if such a question did make him look +ridiculous.</p> + +<p>"Ogilvie—Stephen Ogilvie. My dear boy, it's we who +ought to be ashamed of ourselves for not having had the +gumption to enlighten you. How on earth were you to know +without asking? Now, look here, I must run. I expect +you'll be wanting to get home, or I'd suggest your staying +until I get back, but I must lie low after tea and think out +my sermon. Look here, come over to lunch on Saturday, +haven't you a bicycle? You could get over from Slowbridge +by one o'clock, and after lunch we'll have a good tramp in +the woods. Splendid!"</p> + +<p>Then chanting the <i>Dies Irae</i> in a cheerful tenor the +Reverend Stephen Ogilvie hurried off to his Sunday School. +Mark said good-bye to Mrs. Ogilvie with an assured politeness +that was typical of his new found ease; and when he +started on his long walk back to Slowbridge he felt inclined +to leap in the air and wake with shouts the slumberous Sabbath +afternoon, proclaiming the glory of life, the joy of +living.</p> + +<p>Mark had not expected his uncle to welcome his friendship +with the Vicar of Meade Cantorum; but he had supposed +that after a few familiar sneers he should be allowed +to go his own way with nothing worse than silent disapproval +brooding over his perverse choice. He was surprised by the +vehemence of his uncle's opposition, and it must be added +that he thoroughly enjoyed it. The experience of that Whit-sunday +had been too rich not to be of enduring importance +to his development in any case; but the behaviour of Uncle +Henry made it more important, because all this criticism +helped Mark to put his opinions into shape, consolidated the +position he had taken up, sharpened his determination to +advance along the path he had discovered for himself, and +gave him an immediate target for arrows that might otherwise +have been shot into the air until his quiver was empty.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ogilvie knew my father."</p> + +<p>"That has nothing to do with the case," said Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"I think it has."</p> + +<p>"Do not be insolent, Mark. I've noticed lately a most +unpleasant note in your voice, an objectionably defiant note +which I simply will not tolerate."</p> + +<p>"But do you really mean that I'm not to go and see Mr. +Ogilvie?"</p> + +<p>"It would have been more courteous if Mr. Ogilvie had +given himself the trouble of writing to me, your guardian, +before inviting you out to lunch and I don't know what not +besides."</p> + +<p>"He said he would write to you."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to embark on a correspondence with him," +Uncle Henry exclaimed petulantly. "I know the man by +reputation. A bigoted Ritualist. A Romanizer of the worst +type. He'll only fill your head with a lot of effeminate nonsense, +and that at a time when it's particularly necessary +for you to concentrate upon your work. Don't forget that +this is your last year of school. I advise you to make the +most of it."</p> + +<p>"I've asked Mr. Ogilvie to prepare me for confirmation," +said Mark, who was determined to goad his uncle into losing +his temper.</p> + +<p>"Then you deserve to be thrashed."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Uncle Henry," Mark began; and while he +was speaking he was aware that he was stronger than his +uncle now and looking across at his aunt he perceived that +she was just a ball of badly wound wool lying in a chair. +"Look here, Uncle Henry, it's quite useless for you to try +to stop my going to Meade Cantorum, because I'm going +there whenever I'm asked and I'm going to be confirmed +there, because you promised Mother you wouldn't interfere +with my religion."</p> + +<p>"Your religion!" broke in Mr. Lidderdale, scornful both of +the pronoun and the substantive.</p> + +<p>"It's no use your losing your temper or arguing with me +or doing anything except letting me go my own way, because +that's what I intend to do."</p> + +<p>Aunt Helen half rose in her chair upon an impulse to +protect her brother against Mark's violence.</p> + +<p>"And you can't cure me with Gregory Powder," he said. +"Nor with Senna nor with Licorice nor even with Cascara."</p> + +<p>"Your behaviour, my boy, is revolting," said Mr. Lidderdale. +"A young Mohawk would not talk to his guardians +as you are talking to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't want you to think I'm going to obey you +if you forbid me to go to Meade Cantorum," said Mark. +"I'm sorry I was rude, Aunt Helen. I oughtn't to have +spoken to you like that. And I'm sorry, Uncle Henry, to +seem ungrateful after what you've done for me." And then +lest his uncle should think that he was surrendering he +quickly added: "But I'm going to Meade Cantorum on Saturday." +And like most people who know their own minds +Mark had his own way.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI" />CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>MEADE CANTORUM</h3> + + +<p>Mark did not suffer from "churchiness" during this +period. His interest in religion, although it resembled +the familiar conversions of adolescence, was a real resurrection +of emotions which had been stifled by these years at +Haverton House following upon the paralyzing grief of his +mother's death. Had he been in contact during that time +with an influence like the Vicar of Meade Cantorum, he +would probably have escaped those ashen years, but as Mr. +Ogilvie pointed out to him, he would also never have received +such evidence of God's loving kindness as was shown to +him upon that Whit-sunday morning.</p> + +<p>"If in the future, my dear boy, you are ever tempted to +doubt the wisdom of Almighty God, remember what was +vouchsafed to you at a moment when you seemed to have +no reason for any longer existing, so black was your world. +Remember how you caught sight of yourself in that pool and +shrank away in horror from the vision. I envy you, Mark. +I have never been granted such a revelation of myself."</p> + +<p>"You were never so ugly," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, we are all as ugly as the demons of Hell +if we are allowed to see ourselves as we really are. But God +only grants that to a few brave spirits whom he consecrates +to his service and whom he fortifies afterwards by proving +to them that, no matter how great the horror of their self-recognition, +the Holy Ghost is within them to comfort them. +I don't suppose that many human beings are granted such an +experience as yours. I myself tremble at the thought of it, +knowing that God considers me too weak a subject for such +a test."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Ogilvie," Mark expostulated.</p> + +<p>"I'm not talking to you as Mark Lidderdale, but as the +recipient of the grace of God, to one who before my own +unworthy eyes has been lightened by celestial fire. <i>Mine +eyes have seen thy salvation, O Lord.</i> As for yourself, my +dear boy, I pray always that you may sustain your part, +that you will never allow the memory of this Whitsuntide +to be obscured by the fogs of this world and that you will +always bear in mind that having been given more talents by +God a sharper account will be taken of the use you make of +them. Don't think I'm doubting your steadfastness, old man, +I believe in it. Do you hear? I believe in it absolutely. +But Catholic doctrine, which is the sum of humanity's knowledge +of God and than which nothing more can be known of +God until we see Him face to face, insists upon good works, +demanding as it were a practical demonstration to the rest of +the world of the grace of God within you. You remember +St. Paul? <i>Faith, Hope, and Love. But the greatest of these +is Love.</i> The greatest because the least individual. Faith +will move mountains, but so will Love. That's the trouble +with so many godly Protestants. They are inclined to stay +satisfied with their own godliness, although the best of them +like the Quakers are examples that ought to make most of +us Catholics ashamed of ourselves. And one thing more, +old man, before we get off this subject, don't forget that your +experience is a mercy accorded to you by the death of our +Lord Jesus Christ. You owe to His infinite Love your new +life. What was granted to you was the visible apprehension +of the fact of Holy Baptism, and don't forget St. John the +Baptist's words: <i>I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance, +but he that cometh after me is mightier than I. +He shall baptise you with the Holy Ghost, and with fire: +whose fan is in his hand, and he will thoroughly purge his +floor, and gather his wheat into the garner; but he will burn +up the chaff with unquenchable fire.</i> Those are great words +for you to think of now, and during this long Trinitytide +which is symbolical of what one might call the humdrum of +religious life, the day in day out sticking to it, make a resolution +never to say mechanically <i>The grace of our Lord Jesus +Christ, and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy +Ghost, be with us all evermore. Amen.</i> If you always remember +to say those wonderful words from the heart and +not merely with the lips, you will each time you say them +marvel more and more at the great condescension of +Almighty God in favouring you, as He has favoured you, by +teaching you the meaning of these words Himself in a way +that no poor mortal priest, however eloquent, could teach +you it. On that night when you watched beside the glow-worm +at the sea's edge the grace of our Lord gave you an +apprehension, child as you were, of the love of God, and +now once more the grace of our Lord gives you the realization +of the fellowship of the Holy Ghost. I don't want to +spoil your wonderful experience with my parsonic discoursing; +but, Mark, don't look back from the plough."</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry found it hard to dispose of words like these +when he deplored his nephew's collapse into ritualism.</p> + +<p>"You really needn't bother about the incense and the vestments," +Mark assured him. "I like incense and vestments; +but I don't think they're the most important things in +religion. You couldn't find anybody more evangelical than +Mr. Ogilvie, though he doesn't call himself evangelical, or +his party the Evangelical party. It's no use your trying to +argue me out of what I believe. I know I'm believing what +it's right for me to believe. When I'm older I shall try to +make everybody else believe in my way, because I should like +everybody else to feel as happy as I do. Your religion +doesn't make you feel happy, Uncle Henry!"</p> + +<p>"Leave the room," was Mr. Lidderdale's reply. "I won't +stand this kind of talk from a boy of your age."</p> + +<p>Although Mark had only claimed from his uncle the right +to believe what it was right for him to believe, the richness +of his belief presently began to seem too much for one. +His nature was generous in everything, and he felt that he +must share this happiness with somebody else. He regretted +the death of poor Mr. Spaull, for he was sure that he could +have persuaded poor Mr. Spaull to cut off his yellow moustache +and become a Catholic. Mr. Palmer was of course +hopeless: Saint Augustine of Hippo, St. Paul himself even, +would have found it hard to deal with Mr. Palmer; as for +the new master, Mr. Blumey, with his long nose and long +chin and long frock coat and long boots, he was obviously +absorbed by the problems of mathematics and required nothing +more.</p> + +<p>Term came to an end, and during the holidays Mark was +able to spend most of his time at Meade Cantorum. He had +always been a favourite of Mrs. Ogilvie since that Whit-sunday +nearly two months ago when she saw him looking +at her garden and invited him in, and every time he revisited +the Vicarage he had devoted some of his time to helping her +weed or prune or do whatever she wanted to do in her garden. +He was also on friendly terms with Miriam, the elder of +Mr. Ogilvie's two sisters, who was very like her brother in +appearance and who gave to the house the decorous loving +care he gave to the church. And however enthralling her +domestic ministrations, she had always time to attend every +service; while, so well ordered was her manner of life, her +religious duties never involved the household in discomfort. +She never gave the impression that so many religious women +give of going to church in a fever of self-gratification, to +which everything and everybody around her must be subordinated. +The practice of her religion was woven into her +life like the strand of wool on which all the others depend, +but which itself is no more conspicuous than any of the +other strands. With so many women religion is a substitute +for something else; with Miriam Ogilvie everything else was +made as nearly and as beautifully as it could be made a substitute +for religion. Mark was intensely aware of her holiness, +but he was equally aware of her capable well-tended +hands and of her chatelaine glittering in and out of a lawn +apron. One tress of her abundant hair was grey, which stood +out against the dark background of the rest and gave her +a serene purity, an austere strength, but yet like a nun's +coif seemed to make the face beneath more youthful, and +like a cavalier's plume more debonair. She could not have +been over thirty-five when Mark first knew her, perhaps not +so much; but he thought of her as ageless in the way a child +thinks of its mother, and if any woman should ever be able +to be to him something of what his mother had been, Mark +thought that Miss Ogilvie might.</p> + +<p>Esther Ogilvie the other sister was twenty-five. She told +Mark this when he imitated the villagers by addressing her +as Miss Essie and she ordered him to call her Esther. He +might have supposed from this that she intended to confer +upon him a measure of friendliness, even of sisterly affection; +but on the contrary she either ignored him altogether +or gave him the impression that she considered his frequent +visits to Meade Cantorum a nuisance. Mark was sorry that +she felt like that toward him, because she seemed unhappy, +and in his desire for everybody to be happy he would have +liked to proclaim how suddenly and unexpectedly happiness +may come. As a sister of the Vicar of the parish, she went +to church regularly, but Mark did not think that she was +there except in body. He once looked across at her open +prayer book during the <i>Magnificat</i>, and noticed that she was +reading the Tables of Kindred and Affinity. Now, Mark +knew from personal experience that when one is reduced to +reading the Tables of Kindred and Affinity it argues a mind +untouched by the reality of worship. In his own case, +when he sat beside his uncle and aunt in the dreary Slowbridge +church of their choice, it had been nothing more than +a sign of his own inward dreariness to read the Tables of +Kindred and Affinity or speculate upon the Paschal full +moons from the year 2200 to the year 2299 inclusive. But +St. Margaret's, Meade Cantorum, was a different church +from St. Jude's, Slowbridge, and for Esther Ogilvie to ignore +the joyfulness of worshipping there in order to ponder idly +the complexities of Golden Numbers and Dominical Letters +could not be ascribed to inward dreariness. Besides, she +wasn't dreary. Once Mark saw her coming down a woodland +glade and almost turned aside to avoid meeting her, +because she looked so fay with her wild blue eyes and her +windblown hair, the colour of last year's bracken after rain. +She seemed at once the pursued and the pursuer, and Mark +felt that whichever she was he would be in the way.</p> + +<p>"Taking a quick walk by myself," she called out to him +as they passed.</p> + +<p>No, she was certainly not dreary. But what was she?</p> + +<p>Mark abandoned the problem of Esther in the pleasure of +meeting the Reverend Oliver Dorward, who arrived one +afternoon at the Vicarage with a large turbot for Mrs. +Ogilvie, and six Flemish candlesticks for the Vicar, announcing +that he wanted to stay a week before being inducted to +the living of Green Lanes in the County of Southampton, +to which he had recently been presented by Lord Chatsea. +Mark liked him from the first moment he saw him pacing +the Vicarage garden in a soutane, buckled shoes, and beaver +hat, and he could not understand why Mr. Ogilvie, who had +often laughed about Dorward's eccentricity, should now that +he had an opportunity of enjoying it once more be so cross +about his friend's arrival and so ready to hand him over to +Mark to be entertained.</p> + +<p>"Just like Ogilvie," said Dorward confidentially, when he +and Mark went for a walk on the afternoon of his arrival. +"He wants spiking up. They get very slack and selfish, +these country clergy. Time he gave up Meade Cantorum. +He's been here nearly ten years. Too long, nine years too +long. Hasn't been to his duties since Easter. Scandalous, +you know. I asked him, as soon as I'd explained to the +cook about the turbot, when he went last, and he was bored. +Nice old pussy cat, the mother. Hullo, is that the <i>Angelus</i>? +Damn, I knelt on a thistle."</p> + +<p>"It isn't the <i>Angelus</i>," said Mark quietly. "It's the bell +on that cow."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Dorward had finished his devotion before he +answered.</p> + +<p>"I was half way through before you told me. You should +have spoken sooner."</p> + +<p>"Well, I spoke as soon as I could."</p> + +<p>"Very cunning of Satan," said Dorward meditatively. +"Induced a cow to simulate the <i>Angelus</i>, and planted a thistle +just where I was bound to kneel. Cunning. Cunning. Very +cunning. I must go back now and confess to Ogilvie. Good +example. Wait a minute, I'll confess to-morrow before +Morning Prayer. Very good for Ogilvie's congregation. +They're stuffy, very stuffy. It'll shake them. It'll shake +Ogilvie too. Are you staying here to-night?"</p> + +<p>"No, I shall bicycle back to Slowbridge and bicycle over +to Mass to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Ridiculous. Stay the night. Didn't Ogilvie invite you?"</p> + +<p>Mark shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Scandalous lack of hospitality. They're all alike these +country clergy. I'm tired of this walk. Let's go back and +look after the turbot. Are you a good cook?"</p> + +<p>"I can boil eggs and that sort of thing," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"What sort of things? An egg is unique. There's nothing +like an egg. Will you serve my Mass on Monday? +Saying Mass for Napoleon on Monday."</p> + +<p>"For whom?" Mark exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Napoleon, with a special intention for the conversion +of the present government in France. Last Monday I said +a Mass for Shakespeare, with a special intention for an improvement +in contemporary verse."</p> + +<p>Mark supposed that Mr. Dorward must be joking, and his +expression must have told as much to the priest, who murmured:</p> + +<p>"Nothing to laugh at. Nothing to laugh at."</p> + +<p>"No, of course not," said Mark feeling abashed. "But +I'm afraid I shouldn't be able to serve you. I've never had +any practice."</p> + +<p>"Perfectly easy. Perfectly easy. I'll give you a book +when we get back."</p> + +<p>Mark bicycled home that afternoon with a tall thin volume +called <i>Ritual Notes</i>, so tall that when it was in his pocket he +could feel it digging him in the ribs every time he was riding +up the least slope. That night in his bedroom he practised +with the help of the wash-stand and its accessories the technique +of serving at Low Mass, and in his enthusiasm he +bicycled over to Meade Cantorum in time to attend both the +Low Mass at seven said by Mr. Dorward and the Low Mass +at eight said by Mr. Ogilvie. He was able to detect mistakes +that were made by the village boys who served that +Sunday morning, and he vowed to himself that the Monday +Mass for the Emperor Napoleon should not be disfigured by +such inaccuracy or clumsiness. He declined the usual invitation +to stay to supper after Evening Prayer that he might +have time to make perfection more perfect in the seclusion +of his own room, and when he set out about six o'clock of a +sun-drowsed morning in early August, apart from a faint +anxiety about the <i>Lavabo</i>, he felt secure of his accomplishment. +It was only when he reached the church that he +remembered he had made no arrangement about borrowing a +cassock or a cotta, an omission that in the mood of grand +seriousness in which he had undertaken his responsibility +seemed nothing less than abominable. He did not like to go +to the Vicarage and worry Mr. Ogilvie who could scarcely +fail to be amused, even contemptuously amused at such an +ineffective beginning. Besides, ever since Mr. Dorward's +arrival the Vicar had been slightly irritable.</p> + +<p>While Mark was wondering what was the best thing to +do, Miss Hatchett, a pious old maid who spent her nights in +patience and sleep, her days in worship and weeding, came +hurrying down the churchyard path.</p> + +<p>"I am not late, am I?" she exclaimed. "I never heard +the bell. I was so engrossed in pulling out one of those +dreadful sow-thistles that when my maid came running out +and said 'Oh, Miss Hatchett, it's gone the five to, you'll be +late,' I just ran, and now I've brought my trowel and left +my prayer book on the path. . . ."</p> + +<p>"I'm just going to ring the bell now," said Mark, in whom +the horror of another omission had been rapidly succeeded +by an almost unnatural composure.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a relief," Miss Hatchett sighed. "Are you sure +I shall have time to get my breath, for I know Mr. Ogilvie +would dislike to hear me panting in church?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ogilvie isn't saying Mass this morning."</p> + +<p>"Not saying Mass?" repeated the old maid in such a dejected +tone of voice that, when a small cloud passed over +the face of the sun, it seemed as if the natural scene desired +to accord with the chill cast upon her spirit by Mark's +announcement.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Dorward is saying Mass," he told her, and poor +Miss Hatchett must pretend with a forced smile that her +blank look had been caused by the prospect of being deprived +of Mass when really. . . .</p> + +<p>But Mark was not paying any more attention to Miss +Hatchett. He was standing under the bell, gazing up at +the long rope and wondering what manner of sound he +should evoke. He took a breath and pulled; the rope +quivered with such an effect of life that he recoiled from +the new force he had conjured into being, afraid of his +handiwork, timid of the clamour that would resound. No +louder noise ensued than might have been given forth by a +can kicked into the gutter. Mark pulled again more strongly, +and the bell began to chime, irregularly at first with alternations +of sonorous and feeble note; at last, however, when +the rhythm was established with such command and such +insistence that the ringer, looking over his shoulder to the +south door, half expected to see a stream of perturbed Christians +hurrying to obey its summons. But there was only +poor Miss Hatchett sitting in the porch and fanning herself +with a handkerchief.</p> + +<p>Mark went on ringing. . . .</p> + +<p>Clang—clang—clang! All the holy Virgins were waving +their palms. Clang—clang—clang! All the blessed Doctors +and Confessors were twanging their harps to the clanging. +Clang—clang—clang! All the holy Saints and Martyrs were +tossing their haloes in the air as schoolboys toss their caps. +Clang—clang—clang! Angels, Archangels, and Principalities +with faces that shone like brass and with forms that +quivered like flames thronged the noise. Clang—clang—clang! +Virtues, Powers, and Dominations bade the morning +stars sing to the ringing. Clang—clang—clang! The ringing +reached up to the green-winged Thrones who sustain the +seat of the Most High. Clang—clang—clang! The azure +Cherubs heard the bells within their contemplation: the +scarlet Seraphs felt them within their love. Clang—clang—clang! +The lidless Eye of God looked down, and Miss +Hatchett supposing it to be the sun crossed over to the other +side of the porch.</p> + +<p>Clang—clang—clang—clang—clang—clang—clang—clang. . . .</p> + +<p>"Hasn't Dorward come in yet? It's five past eight already. +Go on ringing for a little while. I'll go and see how long +he'll be."</p> + +<p>Mark in the absorption of ringing the bell had not noticed +the Vicar's approach, and he was gone again before he remembered +that he wanted to borrow a cassock and a cotta. +Had he been rude? Would Mr. Ogilvie think it cheek to +ring the bell without asking his permission first? But before +these unanswered questions had had time to spoil the rhythm +of his ringing, the Vicar came back with Mr. Dorward, and +the congregation, that is to say Miss Hatchett and Miss +Ogilvie, was already kneeling in its place.</p> + +<p>Mark in a cassock that was much too long for him and +in a cotta that was in the same ratio as much too short +preceded Mr. Dorward from the sacristy to the altar. A +fear seized him that in spite of all his practice he was kneeling +on the wrong side of the priest; he forgot the first +responses; he was sure the Sanctus-bell was too far away; +he wished that Mr. Dorward would not mutter quite so +inaudibly. Gradually, however, the meetness of the gestures +prescribed for him by the ancient ritual cured his self-consciousness +and included him in its pattern, so that now +for the first time he was aware of the significance of the +preface to the Sanctus: <i>It is very meet, right, and our bounden +duty, that we should at all times, and in all places, give +thanks unto thee, O Lord, Holy Father, Almighty Everlasting +God.</i></p> + +<p>Twenty minutes ago when he was ringing the church bell Mark +had experienced the rapture of creative noise, the +sense of individual triumph over time and space; and the +sound of his ringing came back to him from the vaulted roof +of the church with such exultation as the missal thrush may +know when he sits high above the fretted boughs of an oak +and his music plunges forth upon the January wind. Now +when Mark was ringing the Sanctus-bell, it was with a sense +of his place in the scheme of worship. If one listens to the +twitter of a single linnet in open country or to the buzz of +a solitary fly upon a window pane, how incredible it is that +myriads of them twittering and buzzing together should be +the song of April, the murmur of June. And this Sanctus-bell +that tinkled so inadequately, almost so frivolously when +sounded by a server in Meade Cantorum church, was yet +part of an unimaginable volume of worship that swelled in +unison with Angels and Archangels lauding and magnifying +the Holy Name. The importance of ceremony was as deeply +impressed upon Mark that morning as if he had been formally +initiated to great mysteries. His coming confirmation, +which had been postponed from July 2nd to September 8th +seemed much more momentous now than it seemed yesterday. +It was no longer a step to Communion, but was apprehended +as a Sacrament itself, and though Mr. Ogilvie was inclined +to regret the ritualistic development of his catechumen, Mark +derived much strength from what was really the awakening +in him of a sense of form, which more than anything makes +emotion durable. Perhaps Ogilvie may have been a little +jealous of Dorward's influence; he also was really alarmed +at the prospect, as he said, of so much fire being wasted upon +poker-work. In the end what between Dorward's encouragement +of Mark's ritualistic tendencies and the "spiking +up" process to which he was himself being subjected, Ogilvie +was glad when a fortnight later Dorward took himself off +to his own living, and he expressed a hope that Mark would +perceive Dorward in his true proportions as a dear good +fellow, perfectly sincere, but just a little, well, not exactly +mad, but so eccentric as sometimes to do more harm than +good to the Movement. Mark was shrewd enough to notice +that however much he grumbled about his friend's visit Mr. +Ogilvie was sufficiently influenced by that visit to put into +practice much of the advice to which he had taken exception. +The influence of Dorward upon Mark did not stop with his +begetting in him an appreciation of the value of form in +worship. When Mark told Mr. Ogilvie that he intended to +become a priest, Mr. Ogilvie was impressed by the manifestation +of the Divine Grace, but he did not offer many practical +suggestions for Mark's immediate future. Dorward +on the contrary attached as much importance to the manner +in which he was to become a priest.</p> + +<p>"Oxford," Mr. Dorward pronounced. "And then Glastonbury."</p> + +<p>"Glastonbury?"</p> + +<p>"Glastonbury Theological College."</p> + +<p>Now to Mark Oxford was a legendary place to which +before he met Mr. Dorward he would never have aspired. +Oxford at Haverton House was merely an abstraction +to which a certain number of people offered an illogical +allegiance in order to create an excuse for argument and +strife. Sometimes Mark had gazed at Eton and wondered +vaguely about existence there; sometimes he had gazed at +the towers of Windsor and wondered what the Queen ate +for breakfast. Oxford was far more remote than either of +these, and yet when Mr. Dorward said that he must go there +his heart leapt as if to some recognized ambition long ago +buried and now abruptly resuscitated.</p> + +<p>"I've always been Oxford," he admitted.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Dorward had gone, Mark asked Mr. Ogilvie +what he thought about Oxford.</p> + +<p>"If you can afford to go there, my dear boy, of course you +ought to go."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm pretty sure I can't afford to. I don't think I've +got any money at all. My mother left some money, but my +uncle says that that will come in useful when I'm articled to +this solicitor, Mr. Hitchcock. Oh, but if I become a priest I +can't become a solicitor, and perhaps I could have that +money. I don't know how much it is . . . I think five hundred +pounds. Would that be enough?"</p> + +<p>"With care and economy," said Mr. Ogilvie. "And you +might win a scholarship."</p> + +<p>"But I'm leaving school at the end of this year."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ogilvie thought that it would be wiser not to say +anything to his uncle until after Mark had been confirmed. +He advised him to work hard meanwhile and to keep in +mind the possibility of having to win a scholarship.</p> + +<p>The confirmation was held on the feast of the Nativity +of the Blessed Virgin. Mark made his first Confession on +the vigil, his first Communion on the following Sunday.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII" />CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE POMEROY AFFAIR</h3> + + +<p>Mark was so much elated to find himself a fully +equipped member of the Church Militant that he +looked about him again to find somebody whom he could +make as happy as himself. He even considered the possibility +of converting his uncle, and spent the Sunday evening +before term began in framing inexpugnable arguments to be +preceded by unanswerable questions; but always when he +was on the point of speaking he was deterred by the lifelessness +of his uncle. No eloquence could irrigate his arid +creed and make that desert blossom now. And yet, Mark +thought, he ought to remember that in the eyes of the world +he owed his uncle everything. What did he owe him in the +sight of God? Gratitude? Gratitude for what? Gratitude +for spending a certain amount of money on him. Once more +Mark opened his mouth to repay his debt by offering Uncle +Henry Eternal Life. But Uncle Henry fancied himself +already in possession of Eternal Life. He definitely labelled +himself Evangelical. And again Mark prepared one of his +unanswerable questions.</p> + +<p>"Mark," said Mr. Lidderdale. "If you can't keep from +yawning you'd better get off to bed. Don't forget school +begins to-morrow, and you must make the most of your +last term."</p> + +<p>Mark abandoned for ever the task of converting Uncle +Henry, and pondered his chance of doing something with +Aunt Helen. There instead of exsiccation he was confronted +by a dreadful humidity, an infertile ooze that seemed +almost less susceptible to cultivation than the other.</p> + +<p>"And I really don't owe <i>her</i> anything," he thought. "Besides, +it isn't that I want to save people from damnation. I +want people to be happy. And it isn't quite that even. I +want them to understand how happy I am. I want people +to feel fond of their pillows when they turn over to go to +sleep, because next morning is going to be what? Well, +sort of exciting."</p> + +<p>Mark suddenly imagined how splendid it would be to +give some of his happiness to Esther Ogilvie; but a moment +later he decided that it would be rather cheek, and he abandoned +the idea of converting Esther Ogilvie. He fell back +on wishing again that Mr. Spaull had not died; in him he +really would have had an ideal subject.</p> + +<p>In the end Mark fixed upon a boy of his own age, one of +the many sons of a Papuan missionary called Pomeroy who +was glad to have found in Mr. Lidderdale a cheap and evangelical +schoolmaster. Cyril Pomeroy was a blushful, girlish +youth, clever at the routine of school work, but in other +ways so much undeveloped as to give an impression of +stupidity. The notion of pointing out to him the beauty and +utility of the Catholic religion would probably never have +occurred to Mark if the boy himself had not approached +him with a direct complaint of the dreariness of home life. +Mark had never had any intimate friends at Haverton +House; there was something in its atmosphere that was hostile +to intimacy. Cyril Pomeroy appealed to that idea of +romantic protection which is the common appendage of +adolescence, and is the cause of half the extravagant affection +at which maturity is wont to laugh. In the company +of Cyril, Mark felt ineffably old than which upon the +threshold of sixteen there is no sensation more grateful; and +while the intercourse flattered his own sense of superiority +he did feel that he had much to offer his friend. Mark +regarded Cyril's case as curable if the right treatment were +followed, and every evening after school during the veiled +summer of a fine October he paced the Slowbridge streets +with his willing proselyte, debating the gravest issues of religious +practice, the subtlest varieties of theological opinion. +He also lent Cyril suitable books, and finally he demanded +from him as a double tribute to piety and friendship that he +should prove his metal by going to Confession. Cyril, who +was incapable of refusing whatever Mark demanded, bicycled +timorously behind him to Meade Cantorum one Saturday +afternoon, where he gulped out the table of his sins to Mr. +Ogilvie, whom Mark had fetched from the Vicarage with +the urgency of one who fetches a midwife. Nor was he at +all abashed when Mr. Ogilvie was angry for not having been +told that Cyril's father would have disapproved of his son's +confession. He argued that the priest was applying social +standards to religious principles, and in the end he enjoyed +the triumph of hearing Mr. Ogilvie admit that perhaps he +was right.</p> + +<p>"I know I'm right. Come on, Cyril. You'd better get +back home now. Oh, and I say, Mr. Ogilvie, can I borrow +for Cyril some of the books you lent me?"</p> + +<p>The priest was amused that Mark did not ask him to lend +the books to his friend, but to himself. However, when +he found that the neophyte seemed to flourish under Mark's +assiduous priming, and that the fundamental weakness of +his character was likely to be strengthened by what, though +it was at present nothing more than an interest in religion, +might later on develop into a profound conviction of the +truths of Christianity, Ogilvie overlooked his scruples about +deceiving parents and encouraged the boy as much as he +could.</p> + +<p>"But I hope your manipulation of the plastic Cyril isn't +going to turn <i>you</i> into too much of a ritualist," he said to +Mark. "It's splendid of course that you should have an +opportunity so young of proving your ability to get round +people in the right way. But let it be the right way, old man. +At the beginning you were full of the happiness, the secret +of which you burnt to impart to others. That happiness was +the revelation of the Holy Spirit dwelling in you as He dwells +in all Christian souls. I am sure that the eloquent exposition +I lately overheard of the propriety of fiddle-backed chasubles +and the impropriety of Gothic ones doesn't mean that you +are in any real danger of supposing chasubles to be anything +more important relatively than, say, the uniform of a soldier +compared with his valour and obedience and selflessness. +Now don't overwhelm me for a minute or two. I haven't +finished what I want to say. I wasn't speaking sarcastically +when I said that, and I wasn't criticizing you. But you are +not Cyril. By God's grace you have been kept from the +temptations of the flesh. Yes, I know the subject is distasteful +to you. But you are old enough to understand that your +fastidiousness, if it isn't to be priggish, must be safeguarded +by your humility. I didn't mean to sandwich a sermon to +you between my remarks on Cyril, but your disdainful upper +lip compelled that testimony. Let us leave you and your +virtues alone. Cyril is weak. He's the weak pink type that +may fall to women or drink or anything in fact where an +opportunity is given him of being influenced by a stronger +character than his own. At the moment he's being influenced +by you to go to Confession, and say his rosary, and hear +Mass, and enjoy all the other treats that our holy religion +gives us. In addition to that he's enjoying them like the +proverbial stolen fruit. You were very severe with me when +I demurred at hearing his confession without authority from +his father; but I don't like stolen fruit, and I'm not sure even +now if I was right in yielding on that point. I shouldn't +have yielded if I hadn't felt that Cyril might be hurt in the +future by my scruples. Now look here, Mark, you've got to +see that I don't regret my surrender. If that youth doesn't +get from religion what I hope and pray he will get . . . but +let that point alone. My scruples are my own affair. Your +convictions are your own affair. But Cyril is our joint affair. +He's your convert, but he's my penitent; and Mark, don't +overdecorate your building until you're sure the foundations +are well and truly laid."</p> + +<p>Mark was never given an opportunity of proving the excellence +of his methods by the excellence of Cyril's life, +because on the morning after this conversation, which took +place one wet Sunday evening in Advent he was sent for by +his uncle, who demanded to know the meaning of This. +This was a letter from the Reverend Eustace Pomeroy.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Limes,</p> + +<p>38, Cranborne Road,</p> + +<p>Slowbridge.</p> + +<p>December 9.</p> + +<p>Dear Mr. Lidderdale,</p> + +<p>My son Cyril will not attend school for the rest of this +term. Yesterday evening, being confined to the house by +fever, I went up to his bedroom to verify a reference in a +book I had recently lent him to assist his divinity studies +under you. When I took down the book from the shelf I +noticed several books hidden away behind, and my curiosity +being aroused I examined them, in case they should be works +of an unpleasant nature. To my horror and disgust, I found +that they were all works of an extremely Popish character, +most of them belonging to a clergyman in this neighbourhood +called Ogilvie, whose illegal practices have for several +years been a scandal to this diocese. These I am sending +to the Bishop that he may see with his own eyes the kind of +propaganda that is going on. Two of the books, inscribed +Mark Lidderdale, are evidently the property of your nephew +to whom I suppose my son is indebted for this wholesale +corruption. On questioning my son I found him already so +sunk in the mire of the pernicious doctrines he has imbibed +that he actually defied his own father. I thrashed him +severely in spite of my fever, and he is now under lock and +key in his bedroom where he will remain until he sails with +me to Sydney next week whither I am summoned to the +conference of Australasian missionaries. During the voyage +I shall wrestle with the demon that has entered into my son +and endeavour to persuade him that Jesus only is necessary +for salvation. And when I have done so, I shall leave him +in Australia to earn his own living remote from the scene of +his corruption. In the circumstances I assume that you will +deduct a proportion of his school fees for this term. I know +that you will be as much horrified and disgusted as I was by +your nephew's conduct, and I trust that you will be able to +wrestle with him in the Lord and prove to him that Jesus +only is necessary to salvation.</p> + +<p>Yours very truly,</p> + +<p>Eustace Pomeroy.</p> + +<p>P.S. I suggest that instead of £6 6s. 0d. I should pay +£5 5s. 0d. for this term, plus, of course, the usual +extras.</p></div> + +<p>The pulse in Mr. Lidderdale's temple had never throbbed +so remarkably as while Mark was reading this letter.</p> + +<p>"A fine thing," he ranted, "if this story gets about in +Slowbridge. A fine reward for all my kindness if you ruin +my school. As for this man Ogilvie, I'll sue him for damages. +Don't look at me with that expression of bestial +defiance. Do you hear? What prevents my thrashing you +as you deserve? What prevents me, I say?"</p> + +<p>But Mark was not paying any attention to his uncle's fury; +he was thinking about the unfortunate martyr under lock and +key in The Limes, Cranborne Road, Slowbridge. He was +wondering what would be the effect of this violent removal +to the Antipodes and how that fundamental weakness of +character would fare if Cyril were left to himself at his age.</p> + +<p>"I think Mr. Pomeroy is a ruffian," said Mark. "Don't +you, Uncle Henry? If he writes to the Bishop about Mr. +Ogilvie, I shall write to the Bishop about him. I hate Protestants. +I hate them."</p> + +<p>"There's your father to the life. You'd like to burn them, +wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I would," Mark declared.</p> + +<p>"You'd like to burn me, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Not you in particular."</p> + +<p>"Will you listen to him, Helen," he shouted to his sister. +"Come here and listen to him. Listen to the boy we took +in and educated and clothed and fed, listen to him saying +he'd like to burn his uncle. Into Mr. Hitchcock's office you +go at once. No more education if this is what it leads to. +Read that letter, Helen, look at that book, Helen. <i>Catholic +Prayers for Church of England People by the Reverend +A.H. Stanton.</i> Look at this book, Helen. <i>The Catholic +Religion by Vernon Staley.</i> No wonder you hate Protestants, +you ungrateful boy. No wonder you're longing to +burn your uncle and aunt. It'll be in the <i>Slowbridge Herald</i> +to-morrow. Headlines! Ruin! They'll think I'm a Jesuit +in disguise. I ought to have got a very handsome sum of +money for the good-will. Go back to your class-room, and +if you have a spark of affection in your nature, don't brag +about this to the other boys."</p> + +<p>Mark, pondering all the morning the best thing to do for +Cyril, remembered that a boy called Hacking lived at The +Laurels, 36, Cranborne Road. He did not like Hacking, but +wishing to utilize his back garden for the purpose of communicating +with the prisoner he made himself agreeable to +him in the interval between first and second school.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Hacking," he began. "I say, do you want a cricket +bat? I shan't be here next summer, so you may as well have +mine."</p> + +<p>Hacking looked at Mark suspicious of some hidden catch +that would make him appear a fool.</p> + +<p>"No, really I'm not ragging," said Mark. "I'll bring it +round to you after dinner. I'll be at your place about a +quarter to two. Wait for me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>Hacking puzzled his brains to account for this generous +whim, and at last decided that Mark must be "gone" on his +sister Edith. He supposed that he ought to warn Edith to +be about when Mark called; if the bat was not forthcoming +he could easily prevent a meeting. The bat however turned +out to be much better than he expected, and Hacking was +on the point of presenting Cressida to Troilus when Troilus +said:</p> + +<p>"That's your garden at the back, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Hacking admitted that it was.</p> + +<p>"It looks rather decent."</p> + +<p>Hacking allowed modestly that it wasn't bad.</p> + +<p>"My father's rather dead nuts on gardening. So's my +kiddy sister," he added.</p> + +<p>"I vote we go out there," Mark suggested.</p> + +<p>"Shall I give a yell to my kiddy sister?" asked Pandarus.</p> + +<p>"Good lord, no," Mark exclaimed. "Don't the Pomeroys +live next door to you? Look here, Hacking, I want to speak +to Cyril Pomeroy."</p> + +<p>"He was absent this morning."</p> + +<p>Mark considered Hacking as a possible adjutant to the +enterprise he was plotting. That he finally decided to admit +Hacking to his confidence was due less to the favourable +result of the scrutiny than to the fact that unless he confided +in Hacking he would find it difficult to communicate with +Cyril and impossible to manage his escape. Mark aimed as +high as this. His first impulse had been to approach the +Vicar of Meade Cantorum, but on second thoughts he had +rejected him in favour of Mr. Dorward, who was not so +likely to suffer from respect for paternal authority.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Hacking, will you swear not to say a word +about what I'm going to tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Hacking, who scenting a scandal would +have promised much more than this to obtain the details of it.</p> + +<p>"What will you swear by?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, anything," Hacking offered, without the least hesitation. +"I don't mind what it is."</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you consider the most sacred thing in the +world?"</p> + +<p>If Hacking had known himself, he would have said food; +not knowing himself, he suggested the Bible.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know that if you swear something on the +Bible and break your oath you can be put in prison?" Mark +demanded sternly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course."</p> + +<p>The oath was administered, and Hacking waited goggle-eyed +for the revelation.</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" he asked when Mark stopped.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's enough, isn't it? And now you've got to help +him to escape."</p> + +<p>"But I didn't swear I'd do that," argued Hacking.</p> + +<p>"All right then. Don't. I thought you'd enjoy it."</p> + +<p>"We should get into a row. There'd be an awful shine."</p> + +<p>"Who's to know it's us? I've got a friend in the country. +And I shall telegraph to him and ask if he'll hide Pomeroy."</p> + +<p>Mark was not sufficiently sure of Hacking's discretion or +loyalty to mention Dorward's name. After all this business +wasn't just a rag.</p> + +<p>"The first thing is for you to go out in the garden and +attract Pomeroy's attention. He's locked in his bedroom."</p> + +<p>"But I don't know which is his bedroom," Hacking +objected.</p> + +<p>"Well, you don't suppose the whole family are locked in +their bedrooms, do you?" asked Mark scornfully.</p> + +<p>"But how do you know his bedroom is on this side of the +house?"</p> + +<p>"I don't," said Mark. "That's what I want to find out. +If it's in the front of the house, I shan't want your help, +especially as you're so funky."</p> + +<p>Hacking went out into the garden, and presently he came +back with the news that Pomeroy was waiting outside to +talk to Mark over the wall.</p> + +<p>"Waiting outside?" Mark repeated. "What do you mean, +waiting outside? How can he be waiting outside when he's +locked in his bedroom?"</p> + +<p>"But he's not," said Hacking.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, when Mark went out he found Cyril astride +the party wall between the two gardens waiting for him.</p> + +<p>"You can't let your father drag you off to Australia like +this," Mark argued. "You'll go all to pieces there. You'll +lose your faith, and take to drink, and—you must refuse to +go."</p> + +<p>Cyril smiled weakly and explained to Mark that when once +his father had made up his mind to do something it was +impossible to stop him.</p> + +<p>Thereupon Mark explained his scheme.</p> + +<p>"I'll get an answer from Dorward to-night and you must +escape to-morrow afternoon as soon as it's dark. Have you +got a rope ladder?"</p> + +<p>Cyril smiled more feebly than ever.</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose you haven't. Then what you must do is +tear up your sheets and let yourself down into the garden. +Hacking will whistle three times if all's clear, and then you +must climb over into his garden and run as hard as you +can to the corner of the road where I'll be waiting for you +in a cab. I'll go up to London with you and see you off from +Waterloo, which is the station for Green Lanes where Father +Dorward lives. You take a ticket to Galton, and I expect +he'll meet you, or if he doesn't, it's only a seven mile walk. +I don't know the way, but you can ask when you get to +Galton. Only if you could find your way without asking it +would be better, because if you're pursued and you're seen +asking the way you'll be caught more easily. Now I must +rush off and borrow some money from Mr. Ogilvie. No, +perhaps it would rouse suspicions if I were absent from +afternoon school. My uncle would be sure to guess, and—though +I don't think he would—he might try to lock me up +in my room. But I say," Mark suddenly exclaimed in indignation, +"how on earth did you manage to come and talk to +me out here?"</p> + +<p>Cyril explained that he had only been locked in his bedroom +last night when his father was so angry. He had freedom +to move about in the house and garden, and, he added +to Mark's annoyance, there would be no need for him to +use rope ladders or sheets to escape. If Mark would tell +him what time to be at the corner of the road and would wait +for him a little while in case his father saw him going out +and prevented him, he would easily be able to escape.</p> + +<p>"Then I needn't have told Hacking," said Mark. "However, +now I have told him, he must do something, or else +he's sure to let out what he knows. I wish I knew where +to get the money for the fare."</p> + +<p>"I've got a pound in my money box."</p> + +<p>"Have you?" said Mark, a little mortified, but at the same +time relieved that he could keep Mr. Ogilvie from being +involved. "Well, that ought to be enough. I've got enough +to send a telegram to Dorward. As soon as I get his answer +I'll send you word by Hacking. Now don't hang about in +the garden all the afternoon or your people will begin to +think something's up. If you could, it would be a good +thing for you to be heard praying and groaning in your +room."</p> + +<p>Cyril smiled his feeble smile, and Mark felt inclined to +abandon him to his fate; but he decided on reflection that +the importance of vindicating the claims of the Church to a +persecuted son was more important than the foolishness and +the feebleness of the son.</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to do anything more?" Hacking asked.</p> + +<p>Mark suggested that Hacking's name and address should +be given for Mr. Dorward's answer, but this Hacking refused.</p> + +<p>"If a telegram came to our house, everybody would want +to read it. Why can't it be sent to you?"</p> + +<p>Mark sighed for his fellow-conspirator's stupidity. To this +useless clod he had presented a valuable bat.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said impatiently, "you needn't do anything +more except tell Pomeroy what time he's to be at the corner +of the road to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I'll do that, Lidderdale."</p> + +<p>"I should think you jolly well would," Mark exclaimed +scornfully.</p> + +<p>Mark spent a long time over the telegram to Dorward; in +the end he decided that it would be safer to assume that the +priest would shelter and hide Cyril rather than take the risk +of getting an answer. The final draft was as follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dorward Green Lanes Medworth Hants</p> + +<p>Am sending persecuted Catholic boy by 7.30 from Waterloo +Tuesday please send conveyance Mark Lidderdale.</p></div> + +<p>Mark only had eightpence, and this message would cost +tenpence. He took out the <i>am</i>, changed <i>by 7.30 from +Waterloo</i> to <i>arriving 9.35</i> and <i>send conveyance</i> to <i>meet</i>. If +he had only borrowed Cyril's sovereign, he could have been +more explicit. However, he flattered himself that he was +getting full value for his eightpence. He then worked out +the cost of Cyril's escape.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td> </td><td align="right">s.</td><td align="right">d.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Third Class single to Paddington</td><td align="right">1</td><td align="right">6 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Third Class return to Paddington (for self)</td><td align="right">2</td><td align="right">6 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Third Class single Waterloo to Galton</td><td align="right">3</td><td align="right">11 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Cab from Paddington to Waterloo</td><td align="right">3</td><td align="right">6?</td></tr> +<tr><td>Cab from Waterloo to Paddington (for self)</td><td align="right">3</td><td align="right">6?</td></tr> +<tr><td>Sandwiches for Cyril and Self</td><td align="right">1</td><td align="right">0 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Ginger-beer for Cyril and Self (4 bottles)</td><td align="right">8</td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">Total</td><td align="right" +style="border-top:1px solid black;">16</td><td align="right" +style="border-top:1px solid black;">7 </td></tr> +</table> + +<p>The cab of course might cost more, and he must take back +the eightpence out of it for himself. But Cyril would have +at least one and sixpence in his pocket when he arrived, +which he could put in the offertory at the Mass of thanksgiving +for his escape that he would attend on the following +morning. Cyril would be useful to old Dorward, and he +(Mark) would give him some tips on serving if they had +an empty compartment from Slowbridge to Paddington. +Mark's original intention had been to wait at the corner of +Cranborne Road in a closed cab like the proverbial postchaise +of elopements, but he discarded this idea for reasons of +economy. He hoped that Cyril would not get frightened on +the way to the station and turn back. Perhaps after all it +would be wiser to order a cab and give up the ginger-beer, +or pay for the ginger-beer with the money for the telegram. +Once inside a cab Cyril was bound to go on. Hacking might +be committed more completely to the enterprise by waiting +inside until he arrived with Cyril. It was a pity that Cyril +was not locked in his room, and yet when it came to it he +would probably have funked letting himself down from the +window by knotted sheets. Mark walked home with Hacking +after school, to give his final instructions for the following +day.</p> + +<p>"I'm telling you now," he said, "because we oughtn't to be +seen together at all to-morrow, in case of arousing suspicion. +You must get hold of Pomeroy and tell him to run to the +corner of the road at half-past-five, and jump straight into +the fly that'll be waiting there with you inside."</p> + +<p>"But where will you be?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be waiting outside the ticket barrier with the +tickets."</p> + +<p>"Supposing he won't?"</p> + +<p>"I'll risk seeing him once more. Go and ask if you can +speak to him a minute, and tell him to come out in the garden +presently. Say you've knocked a ball over or something and +will Master Cyril throw it back. I say, we might really put +a message inside a ball and throw it over. That was the way +the Duc de Beaufort escaped in <i>Twenty Years After</i>."</p> + +<p>Hacking looked blankly at Mark.</p> + +<p>"But it's dark and wet," he objected. "I shouldn't knock +a ball over on a wet evening like this."</p> + +<p>"Well, the skivvy won't think of that, and Pomeroy will +guess that we're trying to communicate with him."</p> + +<p>Mark thought how odd it was that Hacking should be so +utterly blind to the romance of the enterprise. After a few +more objections which were disposed of by Mark, Hacking +agreed to go next door and try to get the prisoner into the +garden. He succeeded in this, and Mark rated Cyril for not +having given him the sovereign yesterday.</p> + +<p>"However, bunk in and get it now, because I shan't see +you again till to-morrow at the station, and I must have some +money to buy the tickets."</p> + +<p>He explained the details of the escape and exacted from +Cyril a promise not to back out at the last moment.</p> + +<p>"You've got nothing to do. It's as simple as A B C. It's +too simple, really, to be much of a rag. However, as it isn't +a rag, but serious, I suppose we oughtn't to grumble. Now, +you are coming, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>Cyril promised that nothing but physical force should prevent +him.</p> + +<p>"If you funk, don't forget that you'll have betrayed your +faith and . . ."</p> + +<p>At this moment Mark in his enthusiasm slipped off the +wall, and after uttering one more solemn injunction against +backing out at the last minute he left Cyril to the protection +of Angels for the next twenty-four hours.</p> + +<p>Although he would never have admitted as much, Mark +was rather astonished when Cyril actually did present himself +at Slowbridge station in time to catch the 5.47 train up +to town. Their compartment was not empty, so that Mark +was unable to give Cyril that lesson in serving at the altar +which he had intended to give him. Instead, as Cyril seemed +in his reaction to the excitement of the escape likely to burst +into tears at any moment, he drew for him a vivid picture of +the enjoyable life to which the train was taking him.</p> + +<p>"Father Dorward says that the country round Green Lanes +is ripping. And his church is Norman. I expect he'll make +you his ceremonarius. You're an awfully lucky chap, you +know. He says that next Corpus Christi, he's going to have +Mass on the village green. Nobody will know where you +are, and I daresay later on you can become a hermit. You +might become a saint. The last English saint to be canonized +was St. Thomas Cantilupe of Hereford. But of course +Charles the First ought to have been properly canonized. +By the time you die I should think we should have got back +canonization in the English Church, and if I'm alive then I'll +propose your canonization. St. Cyril Pomeroy you'd be."</p> + +<p>Such were the bright colours in which Mark painted Cyril's +future; when he had watched him wave his farewells from +the window of the departing train at Waterloo, he felt as +if he were watching the bodily assumption of a saint.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been all the evening?" asked Uncle +Henry, when Mark came back about nine o'clock.</p> + +<p>"In London," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"Your insolence is becoming insupportable. Get away to +your room."</p> + +<p>It never struck Mr. Lidderdale that his nephew was telling +the truth.</p> + +<p>The hue and cry for Cyril Pomeroy began at once, and +though Mark maintained at first that the discovery of Cyril's +hiding-place was due to nothing else except the cowardice of +Hacking, who when confronted by a detective burst into tears +and revealed all he knew, he was bound to admit afterward +that, if Mr. Ogilvie had been questioned much more, he +would have had to reveal the secret himself. Mark was hurt +that his efforts to help a son of Holy Church should not be +better appreciated by Mr. Ogilvie; but he forgave his friend +in view of the nuisance that it undoubtedly must have been +to have Meade Cantorum beleaguered by half a dozen corpulent +detectives. The only person in the Vicarage who seemed +to approve of what he had done was Esther; she who had +always seemed to ignore him, even sometimes in a sensitive +mood to despise him, was full of congratulations.</p> + +<p>"How did you manage it, Mark?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I took a cab," said Mark modestly. "One from the +corner of Cranborne Road to Slowbridge, and another from +Paddington to Waterloo. We had some sandwiches, and a +good deal of ginger-beer at Paddington because we thought +we mightn't be able to get any at Waterloo, but at Waterloo +we had some more ginger-beer. I wish I hadn't told Hacking. +If I hadn't, we should probably have pulled it off. Old +Dorward was up to anything. But Hacking is a hopeless +ass."</p> + +<p>"What does your uncle say?"</p> + +<p>"He's rather sick," Mark admitted. "He refused to let +me go to school any more, which as you may imagine doesn't +upset me very much, and I'm to go into Hitchcock's office +after Christmas. As far as I can make out I shall be a kind +of servant."</p> + +<p>"Have you talked to Stephen about it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he's a bit annoyed with me about this kidnapping. +I'm afraid I have rather let him in for it. He says he doesn't +mind so much if it's kept out of the papers."</p> + +<p>"Anyway, I think it was a sporting effort by you," said +Esther. "I wasn't particularly keen on you until you brought +this off. I hate pious boys. I wish you'd told me beforehand. +I'd have loved to help."</p> + +<p>"Would you? I say, I am sorry. I never thought of you," +said Mark much disappointed at the lost opportunity. +"You'd have been much better than that ass Hacking. If you +and I had been the only people in it, I'll bet the detectives +would never have found him."</p> + +<p>"And what's going to happen to the youth now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, his father's going to take him to Australia as he +arranged. They sail to-morrow. There's one thing," Mark +added with a kind of gloomy relish. "He's bound to go to +the bad, and perhaps that'll be a lesson to his father."</p> + +<p>The hope of the Vicar of Meade Cantorum and equally +it may be added the hope of Mr. Lidderdale that the affair +would be kept out of the papers was not fulfilled. The day +after Mr. Pomeroy and his son sailed from Tilbury the following +communication appeared in <i>The Times</i>:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Sir,—The accompanying letter was handed to me by my +friend the Reverend Eustace Pomeroy to be used as I thought +fit and subject to only one stipulation—that it should not be +published until he and his son were out of England. As +President of the Society for the Protection of the English +Church against Romish Aggression I feel that it is my duty +to lay the facts before the country. I need scarcely add that +I have been at pains to verify the surprising and alarming +accusations made by a clergyman against two other clergymen, +and I earnestly request the publicity of your columns +for what I venture to believe is positive proof of the dangerous +conspiracy existing in our very midst to romanize the +Established Church of England. I shall be happy to produce +for any of your readers who find Mr. Pomeroy's story +incredible at the close of the nineteenth century the signed +statements of witnesses and other documentary evidence.</p> + +<p>I am, Sir,</p> + +<p>Your obedient servant,</p> + +<p>Danvers.</p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Right Honble. the Lord Danvers, P.C.</p> + +<p>President of the Society for the Protection of the English +Church against Romish Aggression.</p> + +<p>My Lord,</p> + +<p>I have to bring to your notice as President of the S.P.E. +C.R.A. what I venture to assert is one of the most daring +plots to subvert home and family life in the interests of +priestcraft that has ever been discovered. In taking this step +I am fully conscious of its seriousness, and if I ask your +lordship to delay taking any measures for publicity until the +unhappy principal is upon the high seas in the guardianship +of his even more unhappy father, I do so for the sake of the +wretched boy whose future has been nearly blasted by the +Jesuitical behaviour of two so-called Protestant clergymen.</p> + +<p>Four years ago, my lord, I retired from a lifelong career +as a missionary in New Guinea to give my children the +advantages of English education and English climate, and it +is surely hard that I should live to curse the day on which I +did so. My third son Cyril was sent to school at Haverton +House, Slowbridge, to an educational establishment kept by +a Mr. Henry Lidderdale, reputed to be a strong Evangelical +and I believe I am justified in saying rightly so reputed. At +the same time I regret that Mr. Lidderdale, whose brother +was a notorious Romanizer I have since discovered, should +not have exercised more care in the supervision of his +nephew, a fellow scholar with my own son at Haverton +House. It appears that Mr. Lidderdale was so lax as to +permit his nephew to frequent the services of the Reverend +Stephen Ogilvie at Meade Cantorum, where every excess +such as incense, lighted candles, mariolatry and creeping to +the cross is openly practised. The Revd. S. Ogilvie I may +add is a member of the S.S.C., that notorious secret society +whose machinations have been so often exposed and the +originators of that filthy book "The Priest in Absolution." +He is also a member of the Guild of All Souls which has for +its avowed object the restoration of the Romish doctrine of +Purgatory with all its attendant horrors, and finally I need +scarcely add he is a member of the Confraternity of the +"Blessed Sacrament" which seeks openly to popularize the +idolatrous and blasphemous cult of the Mass.</p> + +<p>Young Lidderdale presumably under the influence of this +disloyal Protestant clergyman sought to corrupt my son, and +was actually so far successful as to lure him to attend the +idolatrous services at Meade Cantorum church, which of +course he was only able to do by inventing lies and excuses +to his father to account for his absence from the simple +worship to which all his life he had been accustomed. Not +content with this my unhappy son was actually persuaded +to confess his sins to this self-styled "priest"! I wonder if +he confessed the sin of deceiving his own father to "Father" +Ogilvie who supplied him with numerous Mass books, several +of which I enclose for your lordship's inspection. You +will be amused if you are not too much horrified by these +puerile and degraded works, and in one of them, impudently +entitled "Catholic Prayers for Church of England People" +you will actually see in cold print a prayer for the "Pope of +Rome." This work emanates from that hotbed of sacerdotal +disloyalty, St. Alban's, Holborn.</p> + +<p>These vile books I discovered by accident carefully hidden +away in my son's bedroom. "Facilis descensus Averni!" +You will easily imagine the humiliation of a parent who, +having devoted his life to bring the Gospel of Jesus Christ +to the heathen, finds that his own son has fallen as low as +the lowest savage. As soon as I made my discovery, I removed +him from Haverton House, and warned the proprietor +of the risk he was running by not taking better care +of his pupils. Having been summoned to a conference of +missionaries in Sydney, N.S.W., I determined to take my +son with me in the hope that a long voyage in the company +of a loving parent, eager to help him back to the path of +Truth and Salvation from which he had strayed, might cure +him of his idolatrous fancies, and restore him to Jesus.</p> + +<p>What followed is, as I write this, scarcely credible to +myself; but however incredible, it is true. Young Lidderdale, +acting no doubt at the instigation of "Father" Ogilvie +(as my son actually called him to my face, not realizing +the blasphemy of according to a mortal clergyman the title +that belongs to God alone), entered into a conspiracy with +another Romanizing clergyman, the Reverend Oliver Dorward, +Vicar of Green Lanes, Hants, to abduct my son from +his own father's house, with what ultimate intention I dare +not think. Incredible as it must sound to modern ears, they +were so far successful that for a whole week I was in +ignorance of his whereabouts, while detectives were hunting +for him up and down England. The abduction was carried +out by young Lidderdale, with the assistance of a youth +called Hacking, so coolly and skilfully as to indicate that the +abettors behind the scenes are <small>USED TO SUCH ABDUCTIONS</small>. +This, my lord, points to a very grave state of affairs in our +midst. If the son of a Protestant clergyman like myself +can be spirited away from a populous but nevertheless comparatively +small town like Slowbridge, what must be going +on in great cities like London? Moreover, everything is done +to make it attractive for the unhappy youth who is thus lured +away from his father's hearth. My own son is even now +still impenitent, and I have the greatest fears for his moral +and religious future, so rapid has been the corruption set up +by evil companionship.</p> + +<p>These, my lord, are the facts set out as shortly as possible +and written on the eve of my departure in circumstances that +militate against elegance of expression. I am, to tell the +truth, still staggered by this affair, and if I make public my +sorrow and my shame I do so in the hope that the Society +of which your lordship is President, may see its way to take +some kind of action that will make a repetition of such an +outrage upon family life for ever impossible.</p> + +<p>Believe me to be,</p> + +<p>Your lordship's obedient servant,</p> + +<p>Eustace Pomeroy.</p></div> + +<p>The publication of this letter stirred England. <i>The Times</i> +in a leading article demanded a full inquiry into the alleged +circumstances. <i>The English Churchman</i> said that nothing +like it had happened since the days of Bloody Mary. Questions +were asked in the House of Commons, and finally when +it became known that Lord Danvers would ask a question in +the House of Lords, Mr. Ogilvie took Mark to see Lord Hull +who wished to be in possession of the facts before he rose +to correct some misapprehensions of Lord Danvers. Mark +also had to interview two Bishops, an Archdeacon, and a +Rural Dean. He did not realize that for a few weeks he was +a central figure in what was called <small>THE CHURCH CRISIS</small>. He +was indignant at Mr. Pomeroy's exaggeration and perversions +of fact, and he was so evidently speaking the truth that +everybody from Lord Hull to a reporter of <i>The Sun</i> was +impressed by his account of the affair, so that in the end the +Pomeroy Abduction was decided to be less revolutionary +than the Gunpowder Plot.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lidderdale, however, believed that his nephew had +deliberately tried to ruin him out of malice, and when two +parents seized the opportunity of such a scandal to remove +their sons from Haverton House without paying the terminal +fees, Mr. Lidderdale told Mark that he should recoup himself +for the loss out of the money left by his mother.</p> + +<p>"How much did she leave?" his nephew asked.</p> + +<p>"Don't ask impertinent questions."</p> + +<p>"But it's my money, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It will be your money in another six years, if you behave +yourself. Meanwhile half of it will be devoted to paying +your premium at the office of my friend Mr. Hitchcock."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want to be a solicitor. I want to be a priest," +said Mark.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry produced a number of cogent reasons that +would make his nephew's ambition unattainable.</p> + +<p>"Very well, if I can't be a priest, I don't want the money, +and you can keep it yourself," said Mark. "But I'm not +going to be a solicitor."</p> + +<p>"And what are you going to be, may I inquire?" asked +Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"In the end I probably <i>shall</i> be a priest," Mark prophesied. +"But I haven't quite decided yet how. I warn you that I +shall run away."</p> + +<p>"Run away," his uncle echoed in amazement. "Good +heavens, boy, haven't you had enough of running away over +this deplorable Pomeroy affair? Where are you going to +run to?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't tell you, could I, even if I knew?" Mark asked +as tactfully as he was able. "But as a matter of fact, I don't +know. I only know that I won't go into Mr. Hitchcock's +office. If you try to force me, I shall write to <i>The Times</i> +about it."</p> + +<p>Such a threat would have sounded absurd in the mouth of +a schoolboy before the Pomeroy business; but now Mr. +Lidderdale took it seriously and began to wonder if Haverton +House would survive any more of such publicity. When a +few days later Mr. Ogilvie, whom Mark had consulted about +his future, wrote to propose that Mark should live with him +and work under his superintendence with the idea of winning +a scholarship at Oxford, Mr. Lidderdale was inclined to treat +his suggestion as a solution of the problem, and he replied +encouragingly:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Haverton House,</p> + +<p>Slowbridge.</p> + +<p>Jan. 15.</p> + +<p>Dear Sir,</p> + +<p>Am I to understand from your letter that you are offering +to make yourself responsible for my nephew's future, for I +must warn you that I could not accept your suggestion unless +such were the case? I do not approve of what I assume will +be the trend of your education, and I should have to disclaim +any further responsibility in the matter of my nephew's +future. I may inform you that I hold in trust for him until +he comes of age the sum of £522 8s. 7d. which was left by +his mother. The annual interest upon this I have used until +now as a slight contribution to the expense to which I have +been put on his account; but I have not thought it right to +use any of the capital sum. This I am proposing to transfer +to you. His mother did not execute any legal document and +I have nothing more binding than a moral obligation. If you +undertake the responsibility of looking after him until such +time as he is able to earn his own living, I consider that +you are entitled to use this money in any way you think +right. I hope that the boy will reward your confidence more +amply than he has rewarded mine. I need not allude to the +Pomeroy business to you, for notwithstanding your public +denials I cannot but consider that you were as deeply implicated +in that disgraceful affair as he was. I note what you +say about the admiration you had for my brother. I wish +I could honestly say that I shared that admiration. But my +brother and I were not on good terms, for which state of +affairs he was entirely responsible. I am more ready to surrender +to you all my authority over Mark because I am only +too well aware how during the last year you have consistently +undermined that authority and encouraged my nephew's rebellious +spirit. I have had a great experience of boys during +thirty-five years of schoolmastering, and I can assure you +that I have never had to deal with a boy so utterly insensible +to kindness as my nephew. His conduct toward his aunt I +can only characterize as callous. Of his conduct towards me +I prefer to say no more. I came forward at a moment when +he was likely to be sunk in the most abject poverty, and my +reward has been ingratitude. I pray that his dark and stubborn +temperament may not turn to vice and folly as he grows +older, but I have little hope of its not doing so. I confess +that to me his future seems dismally black. You may have +acquired some kind of influence over his emotions, if he has +any emotions, but I am not inclined to suppose that it will +endure.</p> + +<p>On hearing from you that you persist in your offer to +assume complete responsibility for my nephew, I will hand +him over to your care at once. I cannot pretend that I shall +be sorry to see the last of him, for I am not a hypocrite. I +may add that his clothes are in rather a sorry state. I had +intended to equip him upon his entering the office of my old +friend Mr. Hitchcock and with that intention I have been +letting him wear out what he has. This, I may say, he has +done most effectually.</p> + +<p>I am, Sir,</p> + +<p>Yours faithfully,</p> + +<p>Henry Lidderdale.</p></div> + +<p>To which Mr. Ogilvie replied:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Vicarage,</p> + +<p>Meade Cantorum,</p> + +<p>Bucks.</p> + +<p>Jan. 16.</p> + +<p>Dear Mr. Lidderdale,</p> + +<p>I accept full responsibility for Mark and for Mark's +money. Send both of them along whenever you like. I'm +not going to embark on another controversy about the +"rights" of boys. I've exhausted every argument on this +subject since Mark involved me in his drastic measures of a +month ago. But please let me assure you that I will do my +best for him and that I am convinced he will do his best +for me.</p> + +<p>Yours truly,</p> + +<p>Stephen Ogilvie.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII" />CHAPTER XIII<br /> + +<small>WYCH-ON-THE-WOLD</small></h2> + + +<p>Mark rarely visited his uncle and aunt after he went +to live at Meade Cantorum; and the break was made +complete soon afterward when the living of Wych-on-the-Wold +was accepted by Mr. Ogilvie, so complete indeed that +he never saw his relations again. Uncle Henry died five +years later; Aunt Helen went to live at St. Leonard's, where +she took up palmistry and became indispensable to the success +of charitable bazaars in East Sussex.</p> + +<p>Wych, a large village on a spur of the Cotswold hills, was +actually in Oxfordshire, although by so bare a margin that +all the windows looked down into Gloucestershire, except +those in the Rectory; they looked out across a flat country +of elms and willow-bordered streams to a flashing spire in +Northamptonshire reputed to be fifty miles away. It was a +high windy place, seeming higher and windier on account of +the numbers of pigeons that were always circling round the +church tower. There was hardly a house in Wych that did +not have its pigeon-cote, from the great round columbary in +the Rectory garden to the few holes in a gable-end of some +steep-roofed cottage. Wych was architecturally as perfect as +most Cotswold villages, and if it lacked the variety of Wychford +in the vale below, that was because the exposed position +had kept its successive builders too intent on solidity to +indulge their fancy. The result was an austere uniformity +of design that accorded fittingly with a landscape whose +beauty was all of line and whose colour like the lichen on an +old wall did not flauntingly reveal its gradations of tint to +the transient observer. The bleak upland airs had taught the +builders to be sparing with their windows; the result of such +solicitude for the comfort of the inmates was a succession of +blank spaces of freestone that delighted the eye with an effect +of strength and leisure, of cleanliness and tranquillity.</p> + +<p>The Rectory, dating from the reign of Charles II, did not +arrogate to itself the right to retire behind trees from the +long line of the single village street; but being taller than +the other houses it brought the street to a dignified conclusion, +and it was not unworthy of the noble church which +stood apart from the village, a landmark for miles, upon +the brow of the rolling wold. There was little traffic on the +road that climbed up from Wychford in the valley of the +swift Greenrush five miles away, and there was less traffic +on the road beyond, which for eight miles sent branch after +branch to remote farms and hamlets until itself became no +more than a sheep track and faded out upon a hilly pasturage. +Yet even this unfrequented road only bisected the +village at the end of its wide street, where in the morning +when the children were at school and the labourers at work +in the fields the silence was cloistral, where one could stand +listening to the larks high overhead, and where the lightest +footstep aroused curiosity, so that one turned the head to +peep and peer for the cause of so strange a sound.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ogilvie's parish had a large superficial area; but his +parishioners were not many outside the village, and in that +country of wide pastures the whole of his cure did not include +half-a-dozen farms. There was no doctor and no +squire, unless Will Starling of Rushbrooke Grange could be +counted as the squire.</p> + +<p>Halfway to Wychford and close to the boundary of the +two parishes an infirm signpost managed with the aid of a +stunted hawthorn to keep itself partially upright and direct +the wayfarer to Wych Maries. Without the signpost nobody +would have suspected that the grassgrown track thus indicated +led anywhere except over the top of the wold.</p> + +<p>"You must go and explore Wych Maries," the Rector +had said to Mark soon after they arrived. "You'll find it +rather attractive. There's a disused chapel dedicated to St. +Mary the Virgin and St. Mary Magdalene. My predecessor +took me there when we drove round the parish on my first +visit; but I haven't yet had time to go again. And you ought +to have a look at the gardens of Rushbrooke Grange. The +present squire is away. In the South Seas, I believe. But +the housekeeper, Mrs. Honeybone, will show you round."</p> + +<p>It was in response to this advice that Mark and Esther +set out on a golden May evening to explore Wych Maries. +Esther had continued to be friendly with Mark after the +Pomeroy affair; and when he came to live at Meade Cantorum +she had expressed her pleasure at the prospect of +having him for a brother.</p> + +<p>"But you'll keep off religion, won't you?" she had demanded.</p> + +<p>Mark promised that he would, wondering why she should +suppose that he was incapable of perceiving who was and +who was not interested in it.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you've guessed my fear?" she had continued. +"Haven't you? Haven't you guessed that I'm frightened to +death of becoming religious?"</p> + +<p>The reassuring contradiction that one naturally gives to +anybody who voices a dread of being overtaken by some misfortune +might perhaps have sounded inappropriate, and +Mark had held his tongue.</p> + +<p>"My father was very religious. My mother is more or +less religious. Stephen is religious. Miriam is religious. +Oh, Mark, and I sometimes feel that I too must fall on my +knees and surrender. But I won't. Because it spoils life. +I shall be beaten in the end of course, and I'll probably get +religious mania when I am beaten. But until then—" +She did not finish her sentence; only her blue eyes glittered +at the challenge of life.</p> + +<p>That was the last time religion was mentioned between +Mark and Esther, and since both of them enjoyed the country +they became friends. On this May evening they stood by +the signpost and looked across the shimmering grass to where +the sun hung in his web of golden haze above the edge of +the wold.</p> + +<p>"If we take the road to Wych Maries," said Mark, "we +shall be walking right into the sun."</p> + +<p>Esther did not reply, but Mark understood that she +assented to his truism, and they walked on as silent as the +long shadows that followed them. A quarter of a mile from +the high road the path reached the edge of the wold and +dipped over into a wood which was sparse just below the +brow, but which grew denser down the slope with many dark +evergreens interspersed, and in the valley below became a +jungle. After the bare upland country this volume of May +verdure seemed indescribably rich and the valley beyond, +where the Greenrush flowed through kingcups toward the +sun, indescribably alluring. Esther and Mark forgot that +they were exploring Wych Maries and thinking only of +reaching that wide valley they ran down through the wood, +rejoicing in the airy green of the ash-trees above them and +shouting as they ran. But presently cypresses and sombre +yews rose on either side of the path, and the road to Wych +Maries was soft and silent, and the serene sun was lost, and +their whispering footsteps forbade them to shout any more. +At the bottom of the hill the trees increased in number and +variety; the sun shone through pale oak-leaves and the warm +green of sycamores. Nevertheless a sadness haunted the +wood, where the red campions made only a mist of colour +with no reality of life and flowers behind.</p> + +<p>"This wood's awfully jolly, isn't it?" said Mark, hoping +to gain from Esther's agreement the dispersal of his gloom.</p> + +<p>"I don't care for it much," she replied. "There doesn't +seem to be any life in it."</p> + +<p>"I heard a cuckoo just now," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"Yes, out of tune already."</p> + +<p>"Mm, rather out of tune. Mind those nettles," he warned +her.</p> + +<p>"I thought Stephen said he drove here."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we've come the wrong way. I believe the road +forked by the ash wood above. Anyway if we go toward the +sun we shall come out in the valley, and we can walk back +along the banks of the river to Wychford."</p> + +<p>"We can always go back through the wood," said Esther.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you don't mind going back the way you came."</p> + +<p>"Come on," she snapped. She was not going to be laughed +at by Mark, and she dared him to deny that he was not as +much aware as herself of an eeriness in the atmosphere.</p> + +<p>"Only because it seems dark in here after that dazzling +sunlight on the wold. Hark! I hear the sound of water."</p> + +<p>They struggled through the undergrowth toward the +sound; soon from a steep wooded bank they were gazing +down into a millpool, the surface of which reflected with a +gloomy deepening of their hue the colour but not the form +of the trees above. Water was flowing through a rotten +sluice gate down from the level of the stream upon a slimy +water-wheel that must have been out of action for many +years.</p> + +<p>"The dark tarn of Auber in the misty mid region of +Weir!" Mark exclaimed. "Don't you love <i>Ulalume</i>? I think +it's about my favourite poem."</p> + +<p>"Never heard of it," Esther replied indifferently. +He might have taken advantage of this confession to give +her a lecture on poetry, if the millpool and the melancholy +wood had not been so affecting as to make the least attempt +at literary exposition impertinent.</p> + +<p>"And there's the chapel," Mark exclaimed, pointing to a +ruined edifice of stone, the walls of which were stained with +the damp of years rising from the pool. "But how shall we +reach it? We must have come the wrong way."</p> + +<p>"Let's go back! Let's go back!" Esther exclaimed, surrendering +to the command of an intuition that overcame her +pride. "This place is unlucky."</p> + +<p>Mark looking at her wild eyes, wilder in the dark that +came so early in this overshadowed place, was half inclined +to turn round at her behest; but at that moment he perceived +a possible path through the nettles and briers at the +farther end of the pool and unwilling to go back to the +Rectory without having visited the ruined chapel of Wych +Maries he called on her to follow him. This she did fearfully +at first; but gradually regaining her composure she emerged +on the other side as cool and scornful as the Esther with +whom he was familiar.</p> + +<p>"What frightened you?" he asked, when they were standing +on a grassgrown road that wound through a rank pasturage +browsed on by a solitary black cow and turned the +corner by a clump of cedars toward a large building, the +presence of which was felt rather than seen beyond the trees.</p> + +<p>"I was bored by the brambles," Esther offered for explanation.</p> + +<p>"This must be the driving road," Mark proclaimed. "I +say, this chapel is rather ripping, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>But Esther had wandered away across the rank meadow, +where her meditative form made the solitary black cow +look lonelier than ever. Mark turned aside to examine the +chapel. He had been warned by the Rector to look at the +images of St. Mary the Virgin and St. Mary Magdalene that +had survived the ruin of the holy place of which they were +tutelary and to which they had given their name. The history +of the chapel was difficult to trace. It was so small as +to suggest that it was a chantry; but there was no historical +justification for linking its fortunes with the Starlings who +owned Rushbrooke Grange, and there was no record of any +lost hamlet here. That it was called Wych Maries might +show a connexion either with Wychford or with Wych-on-the-Wold; +it lay about midway between the two, and in days +gone by there had been controversy on this point between +the two parishes. The question had been settled by a squire +of Rushbrooke's buying it in the eighteenth century, since +when a legend had arisen that it was built and endowed by +some crusading Starling of the thirteenth century. There +was record neither of its glory nor of its decline, nor of +what manner of folk worshipped there, nor of those who +destroyed it. The roofless haunt of bats and owls, preserved +from complete collapse by the ancient ivy that covered its +walls, the mortar between its stones the prey of briers, its +floor a nettle bed, the chapel remained a mystery. Yet over +the arch of the west door the two Maries gazed heavenward +as they had gazed for six hundred years. The curiosity of +the few antiquarians who visited the place and speculated +upon its past had kept the images clear of the ivy that covered +the rest of the fabric. Mark did not put this to the credit of +the antiquarians; but now perceiving for the first time these +two austere shapes of divine women under conditions of +atmosphere that enhanced their austerity and unearthliness +he ascribed their freedom from decay to the interposition of +God. To Mark's imagination, fixed upon the images while +Esther wandered solitary in the field beyond the chapel, there +was granted another of those moments of vision which +marked like milestones his spiritual progress. He became +suddenly assured that he would neither marry nor beget +children. He was astonished to find himself in the grip of +this thought, for his mind had never until this evening occupied +itself with marriage or children, nor even with love. +Yet here he was obsessed by the conviction of his finite purpose +in the scheme of the world. He could not, he said to +himself, be considered credulous if he sought for the explanation +of his state of mind in the images of the two +Maries. He looked at them resolved to illuminate with reason's +eye the fluttering shadows of dusk that gave to the +stone an illusion of life's bloom.</p> + +<p>"Did their lips really move?" he asked aloud, and from +the field beyond the black cow lowed a melancholy negative. +Whether the stone had spoken or not, Mark accepted the +revelation of his future as a Divine favour, and thenceforth +he regarded the ruined chapel of Wych Maries as the place +where the vow he made on that Whit-sunday was accepted +by God.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you ever coming?" the voice of Esther called +across the field, and Mark hurried away to rejoin her on +the grassgrown drive that led round the cedar grove to +Rushbrooke Grange.</p> + +<p>"It's too late now to go inside," he objected.</p> + +<p>They were standing before the house.</p> + +<p>"It's not too late at all," she contradicted eagerly. "Down +here it seems later than it really is."</p> + +<p>Rushbrooke Grange lacked the architectural perfection of +the average Cotswold manor. Being a one-storied building +it occupied a large superficial area, and its tumbling irregular +roofs of freestone, the outlines of which were blurred by +the encroaching mist of vegetation that overhung them, gave +the effect of water, as if the atmosphere of this dank valley +had wrought upon the substance of the building and as if the +architects themselves had been confused by the rivalry of +the trees by which it was surrounded. The owners of Rushbrooke +Grange had never occupied a prominent position in +the county, and their estates had grown smaller with each +succeeding generation. There was no conspicuous author +of their decay, no outstanding gamester or libertine from +whose ownership the family's ruin could be dated. There +was indeed nothing of interest in their annals except an +attack upon the Grange by a party of armed burglars in the +disorderly times at the beginning of the nineteenth century, +when the squire's wife and two little girls were murdered +while the squire and his sons were drinking deep in the Stag +Inn at Wychford four miles away. Mark did not feel much +inclined to blunt his impression of the chapel by perambulating +Rushbrooke Grange under the guidance of Mrs. +Honeybone, the old housekeeper; but Esther perversely insisted +upon seeing the garden at any rate, giving as her +excuse that the Rector would like them to pay the visit. By +now it was a pink and green May dusk; the air was plumy +with moths' wings, heavy with the scent of apple blossom.</p> + +<p>"Well, you must explain who we are," said Mark while +the echoes of the bell died away on the silence within the +house and they waited for the footsteps that should answer +their summons. The answer came from a window above the +porch where Mrs. Honeybone's face, wreathed in wistaria, +looked down and demanded in accents that were harsh with +alarm who was there.</p> + +<p>"I am the Rector's sister, Mrs. Honeybone," Esther explained.</p> + +<p>"I don't care who you are," said Mrs. Honeybone. "You +have no business to go ringing the bell at this time of the +evening. It frightened me to death."</p> + +<p>"The Rector asked me to call on you," she pressed.</p> + +<p>Mark had already been surprised by Esther's using her +brother as an excuse to visit the house and he was still more +surprised by hearing her speak so politely, so ingratiatingly, +it seemed, to this grim woman embowered in wistaria.</p> + +<p>"We lost our way," Esther explained, "and that's why +we're so late. The Rector told me about the water-lily pool, +and I should so much like to see it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Honeybone debated with herself for a moment, until +at last with a grunt of disapproval she came downstairs and +opened the front door. The lily pool, now a lily pool only +in name, for it was covered with an integument of duckweed +which in twilight took on the texture of velvet, was an attractive +place set in an enclosure of grass between high grey +walls.</p> + +<p>"That's all there is to see," said Mrs. Honeybone.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Starling is abroad?" Esther asked.</p> + +<p>The housekeeper nodded.</p> + +<p>"And when is he coming back?" she went on.</p> + +<p>"That's for him to say," said the housekeeper disagreeably. +"He might come back to-night for all I know."</p> + +<p>Almost before the sentence was out of her mouth the hall +bell jangled, and a distant voice shouted:</p> + +<p>"Nanny, Nanny, hurry up and open the door!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Honeybone could not have looked more startled if +the voice had been that of a ghost. Mark began to talk of +going until Esther cut him short.</p> + +<p>"I don't think Mr. Starling will mind our being here so +much as that," she said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Honeybone had already hurried off to greet her +master; and when she was gone Mark looked at Esther, +saw that her face was strangely flushed, and in an instant +of divination apprehended either that she had already met +the squire of Rushbrooke Grange or that she expected to +meet him here to-night; so that, when presently a tall man +of about thirty-five with brick-dust cheeks came into the +close, he was not taken aback when Esther greeted him by +name with the assurance of old friendship. Nor was he +astonished that even in the wan light those brick-dust cheeks +should deepen to terra-cotta, those hard blue eyes glitter with +recognition, and the small thin-lipped mouth lose for a +moment its immobility and gape, yes, gape, in the amazement +of meeting somebody whom he never could have expected +to meet at such an hour in such a place.</p> + +<p>"You," he exclaimed. "You here!"</p> + +<p>By the way he quickly looked behind him as if to intercept +a prying glance Mark knew that, whatever the relationship +between Esther and the squire had been in the past, it had +been a relationship in which secrecy had played a part. In +that moment between him and Will Starling there was +enmity.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't have expected him to make a great fuss +about a boy," said Esther brutally on their way back to the +Rectory.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you think that's the reason why I don't like +him," said Mark. "I don't want him to take any notice +of me, but I think it's very odd that you shouldn't have said +a word about knowing him even to his housekeeper."</p> + +<p>"It was a whim of mine," she murmured. "Besides, I +don't know him very well. We met at Eastbourne once when +I was staying there with Mother."</p> + +<p>"Well, why didn't he say 'How do you do, Miss Ogilvie?' +instead of breathing out 'you' like that?"</p> + +<p>Esther turned furiously upon Mark.</p> + +<p>"What has it got to do with you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing whatever to do with me," he said deliberately. +"But if you think you're going to make a fool of me, you're +not. Are you going to tell your brother you knew him?"</p> + +<p>Esther would not answer, and separated by several yards +they walked sullenly back to the Rectory.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV" />CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>ST. MARK'S DAY</h3> + + +<p>Mark tried next day to make up his difference with +Esther; but she repulsed his advances, and the friendship +that had blossomed after the Pomeroy affair faded and +died. There was no apparent dislike on either side, nothing +more than a coolness as of people too well used to each +other's company. In a way this was an advantage for Mark, +who was having to apply himself earnestly to the amount of +study necessary to win a scholarship at Oxford. Companionship +with Esther would have meant considerable disturbance +of his work, for she was a woman who depended on the +inspiration of the moment for her pastimes and pleasures, +who was impatient of any postponement and always avowedly +contemptuous of Mark's serious side. His classical +education at Haverton House had made little of the material +bequeathed to him by his grandfather's tuition at Nancepean. +None of his masters had been enough of a scholar or enough +of a gentleman (and to teach Latin and Greek well one must +be one or the other) to educate his taste. The result was an +assortment of grammatical facts to which he was incapable +of giving life. If the Rector of Wych-on-the-Wold was not +a great scholar, he was at least able to repair the neglect of, +more than the neglect of, the positive damage done to Mark's +education by the meanness of Haverton House; moreover, +after Mark had been reading with him six months he did +find a really first-class scholar in Mr. Ford, the Vicar of +Little Fairfield. Mark worked steadily, and existence in +Oxfordshire went by without any great adventures of mind, +body, or spirit. Life at the Rectory had a kind of graceful +austerity like the well-proportioned Rectory itself. If Mark +had bothered to analyze the cause of this graceful austerity, +he might have found it in the personality of the Rector's elder +sister Miriam. Even at Meade Cantorum, when he was +younger, Mark had been fully conscious of her qualities; but +here they found a background against which they could display +themselves more perfectly. When they moved from +Buckinghamshire and the new rector was seeing how much +Miriam appreciated the new surroundings, he sold out some +stock and presented her with enough ready money to express +herself in the outward beauty of the Rectory's refurbishing. +He was luckily not called upon to spend a great deal on the +church, both his predecessors having maintained the fabric +with care, and the fabric itself being sound enough and magnificent +enough to want no more than that. Miriam, though +shaking one of those capable and well-tended fingers at her +beloved brother's extravagance, accepted the gift with an +almost childish determination to give full value of beauty in +return, so that there should not be a servant's bedroom nor a +cupboard nor a corridor that did not display the evidence of +her appreciation in loving care. The garden was handed over +to Mrs. Ogilvie, who as soon as May warmed its high enclosures +bloomed there like one of her own favourite peonies, +rosy of face and fragrant, ample of girth, golden-hearted.</p> + +<p>Outside the Rectory Mark spent most of his time with +Richard Ford, the son of the Vicar of Little Fairfield, with +whom he went to work in the autumn after his arrival in +Oxfordshire. Here again Mark was lucky, for Richard, +who was a year or two older than himself and a student at +Cooper's Hill whence he would emerge as a civil engineer +bound for India, was one of those entirely admirable young +men who succeed in being saintly without any rapture or +righteousness.</p> + +<p>Mark said one day:</p> + +<p>"Rector, you know, Richard Ford really is a saint; only +for goodness' sake don't tell him I said so, because he'd be +furious."</p> + +<p>The Rector stopped humming a joyful <i>Miserere</i> to give +Mark an assurance of his discretion. But Mark having +said so much in praise of Richard could say no more, and +indeed he would have found it hard to express in words +what he felt about his friend.</p> + +<p>Mark accompanied Richard on his visits to Wychford +Rectory where in this fortunate corner of England existed +a third perfect family. Richard was deeply in love with +Margaret Grey, the second daughter, and if Mark had ever +been intended to fall in love he would certainly have fallen +in love with Pauline, the youngest daughter, who was fourteen.</p> + +<p>"I could look at her for ever," he confided in Richard. +"Walking down the road from Wych-on-the-Wold this morning +I saw two blue butterflies on a wild rose, and they were +like Pauline's eyes and the rose was like her cheek."</p> + +<p>"She's a decent kid," Richard agreed fervently.</p> + +<p>Mark had had such a limited experience of the world +that the amenities of the society in which he found himself +incorporated did not strike his imagination as remarkable. +It was in truth one of those eclectic, somewhat exquisite, +even slightly rarefied coteries which are produced partly +by chance, partly by interests shared in common, but most +of all, it would seem, by the very genius of the place. The +genius of Cotswolds imparts to those who come beneath +his influence the art of existing appropriately in the houses +that were built at his inspiration. They do not boast of +their privilege like the people of Sussex. They are not living +up to a landscape so much as to an architecture, and their +voices lowered harmoniously with the sigh of the wind +through willows and aspens have not to compete with the sea-gales +or the sea.</p> + +<p>Mark accepted the manners of the society in which good +fortune had set him as the natural expression of an inward +orderliness, a traditional respect for beauty like the ritual +of Christian worship. That the three daughters of the +Rector of Wychford should be critical of those who failed +to conform to their inherited refinement of life did not strike +him as priggish, because it never struck him for a moment +that any other standard than theirs existed. He felt the +same about people who objected to Catholic ceremonies; their +dislike of them did not present itself to him as arising out +of a different religious experience from his own; but it +appeared as a propensity toward unmannerly behaviour, as +a kind of wanton disregard of decency and good taste. He +was indeed still at the age when externals possess not so +much an undue importance, but when they affect a boy as a +mould through which the plastic experience of his youth is +passed and whence it emerges to harden slowly to the ultimate +form of the individual. In the case of Mark there was +the revulsion from the arid ugliness of Haverton House +and the ambition to make up for those years of beauty withheld, +both of which urged him on to take the utmost advantage +of this opportunity to expose the blank surface of those +years to the fine etching of the present. Miriam at home, +the Greys at Wychford, and in some ways most of all +Richard Ford at Fairfield gave him in a few months the +poise he would have received more gradually from a public +school education.</p> + +<p>So Mark read Greek with the Vicar of Little Fairfield +and Latin with the Rector of Wych-on-the-Wold, who, +amiable and holy man, had to work nearly twice as hard as +his pupil to maintain his reserve of instruction. Mark took +long walks with Richard Ford when Richard was home in +his vacations, and long walks by himself when Richard was +at Cooper's Hill. He often went to Wychford Rectory, +where he learnt to enjoy Schumann and Beethoven and Bach +and Brahms.</p> + +<p>"You're like three Saint Cecilias," he told them. "Monica +is by Luini and Margaret is by Perugino and Pauline. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Oh, who am I by?" Pauline exclaimed, clapping her +hands.</p> + +<p>"I give it up. You're just Saint Cecilia herself at fourteen."</p> + +<p>"Isn't Mark foolish?" Pauline laughed.</p> + +<p>"It's my birthday to-morrow," said Mark, "so I'm allowed +to be foolish."</p> + +<p>"It's my birthday in a week," said Pauline. "And as I'm +two years younger than you I can be two years more foolish."</p> + +<p>Mark looked at her, and he was filled with wonder at +the sanctity of her maidenhood. Thenceforth meditating +upon the Annunciation he should always clothe Pauline in a +robe of white samite and set her in his mind's eye for that +other maid of Jewry, even as painters found holy maids in +Florence or Perugia for their bright mysteries.</p> + +<p>While Mark was walking back to Wych and when on +the brow of the first rise of the road he stood looking down +at Wychford in the valley below, a chill lisping wind from +the east made him shiver and he thought of the lines in +Keats' <i>Eve of St. Mark</i>:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>The chilly sunset faintly told</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Of unmatured green vallies cold,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Of the green thorny bloomless hedge,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Of rivers new with spring-tide sedge,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Of primroses by shelter'd rills,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>And daisies on the aguish hills.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The sky in the west was an unmatured green valley tonight, +where Venus bloomed like a solitary primrose; and +on the dark hills of Heaven the stars were like daisies. He +turned his back on the little town and set off up the hill again, +while the wind slipped through the hedge beside him in and +out of the blackthorn boughs, lisping, whispering, snuffling, +sniffing, like a small inquisitive animal. He thought of +Monica, Margaret, and Pauline playing in their warm, +candle-lit room behind him, and he thought of Miriam reading +in her tall-back chair before dinner, for Evensong would +be over by now. Yes, Evensong would be over, he +remembered penitently, and he ought to have gone this +evening, which was the vigil of St. Mark and of his birthday. +At this moment he caught sight of the Wych Maries signpost +black against that cold green sky. He gave a momentary +start, because seen thus the signpost had a human look; and +when his heart beat normally it was roused again, this time +by the sight of a human form indeed, the form of Esther, +the wind blowing her skirts before her, hurrying along the +road to which the signpost so crookedly pointed. Mark who +had been climbing higher and higher now felt the power of +that wind full on his cheeks. It was as if it had found what +it wanted, for it no longer whispered and lisped among the +boughs of the blackthorn, but blew fiercely over the wide +pastures, driving Esther before it, cutting through Mark like +a sword. By the time he had reached the signpost she had +disappeared in the wood.</p> + +<p>Mark asked himself why she was going to Rushbrooke +Grange.</p> + +<p>"To Rushbrooke Grange," he said aloud. "Why should I +think she is going to Rushbrooke Grange?"</p> + +<p>Though even in this desolate place he would not say it +aloud, the answer came back from this very afternoon when +somebody had mentioned casually that the Squire was come +home again. Mark half turned to follow Esther, but in the +moment of turning he set his face resolutely in the direction +of home. If Esther were really on her way to meet Will +Starling, he would do more harm than good by appearing +to pry.</p> + +<p>Esther was the flaw in Mark's crystal clear world. When +a year ago they had quarrelled over his avowed dislike of Will +Starling, she had gone back to her solitary walks and he +conscious, painfully conscious, that she regarded him as a +young prig, had with that foolish pride of youth resolved +to be so far as she was concerned what she supposed him +to be. His admiration for the Greys and the Fords had +driven her into jeering at them; throughout the year Mark +and she had been scarcely polite to each other even in public. +The Rector and Miriam probably excused Mark's rudeness +whenever he let himself give way to it, because their sister +did not spare either of them, and they were made aware +with exasperating insistence of the dullness of the country +and of the dreariness of everybody who lived in the neighbourhood. +Yet, Mark could never achieve that indifference +to her attitude either toward himself or toward other people +that he wished to achieve. It was odd that this evening he +should have beheld her in that relation to the wind, because +in his thoughts about her she always appeared to him like +the wind, restlessly sighing and fluttering round a comfortable +house. However steady the candle-light, however +bright the fire, however absorbing the book, however secure +one may feel by the fireside, the wind is always there; and +throughout these tranquil months Esther had always been +most unmistakably there.</p> + +<p>In the morning Mark went to Mass and made his Communion. +It was a strangely calm morning; through the +unstained windows of the clerestory the sun sloped quivering +ladders of golden light. He looked round with half a hope +that Esther was in the church; but she was absent, and +throughout the service that brief vision of her dark transit +across the cold green sky of yester eve kept recurring to his +imagination, so that for all the rich peace of this interior he +was troubled in spirit, and the intention to make this Mass +upon his seventeenth birthday another spiritual experience +was frustrated. In fact, he was worshipping mechanically, +and it was only when Mass was over and he was kneeling to +make an act of gratitude for his Communion that he began +to apprehend how he was asking fresh favours from God +without having moved a step forward to deserve them.</p> + +<p>"I think I'm too pleased with myself," he decided, "I think +I'm suffering from spiritual pride. I think. . . ."</p> + +<p>He paused, wondering if it was blasphemous to have an +intuition that God was about to play some horrible trick on +him. Mark discussed with the Rector the theological aspects +of this intuition.</p> + +<p>"The only thing I feel," said Mr. Ogilvie, "is that perhaps +you are leading too sheltered a life here and that the explanation +of your intuition is your soul's perception of this. +Indeed, once or twice lately I have been on the point of +warning you that you must not get into the habit of supposing +you will always find the onset of the world so gentle as here."</p> + +<p>"But naturally I don't expect to," said Mark. "I was quite +long enough at Haverton House to appreciate what it means +to be here."</p> + +<p>"Yes," the Rector went on, "but even at Haverton House +it was a passive ugliness, just as here it is a passive beauty. +After our Lord had fasted forty days in the desert, accumulating +reserves of spiritual energy, just as we in our poor +human fashion try to accumulate in Lent reserves of +spiritual energy that will enable us to celebrate Easter +worthily, He was assailed by the Tempter more fiercely than +ever during His life on earth. The history of all the early +Egyptian monks, the history indeed of any life lived without +losing sight of the way of spiritual perfection displays the +same phenomena. In the action and reaction of experience, +in the rise and fall of the tides, in the very breathing of the +human lungs, you may perceive analogies of the divine +rhythm. No, I fancy your intuition of this morning is nothing +more than one of those movements which warn us that +the sleeper will soon wake."</p> + +<p>Mark went away from this conversation with the Rector +dissatisfied. He wanted something more than analogies +taken from the experience of spiritual giants, Titans of +holiness whose mighty conquests of the flesh seemed as +remote from him as the achievements of Alexander might +appear to a captain of the local volunteers. What he had +gone to ask the Rector was whether it was blasphemous to +suppose that God was going to play a horrible trick on him. +He had not wanted a theological discussion, an academic +question and reply. Anything could be answered like that, +probably himself in another twenty years, when he had +preached some hundreds of sermons, would talk like that. +Moreover, when he was alone Mark understood that he had +not really wanted to talk about his own troubles to the Rector +at all, but that his real preoccupation had been and still was +Esther. He wondered, oh, how much he wondered, if her +brother had the least suspicion of her friendship with Will +Starling, or if Miriam had had the least inkling that Esther +had not come in till nine o'clock last night because she had +been to Wych Maries? Mark, remembering those wild eyes +and that windblown hair when she stood for a moment +framed in the doorway of the Rector's library, could not +believe that none of her family had guessed that something +more than the whim to wander over the hills had taken her +out on such a night. Did Mrs. Ogilvie, promenading so +placidly along her garden borders, ever pause in perplexity +at her daughter's behaviour? Calling them all to mind, their +attitudes, the expressions of their faces, the words upon their +lips, Mark was sure that none of them had any idea what +Esther was doing. He debated now the notion of warning +Miriam in veiled language about her sister; but such an +idea would strike Miriam as monstrous, as a mad and horrible +nightmare. Mark shivered at the mere fancy of the chill +that would come over her and of the disdain in her eyes. +Besides, what right had he on the little he knew to involve +Esther with her family? Superficially he might count himself +her younger brother; but if he presumed too far, with +what a deadly retort might she not annihilate his claim. Most +certainly he was not entitled to intervene unless he intervened +bravely and directly. Mark shook his head at the prospect +of doing that. He could not imagine anybody's tackling +Esther directly on such a subject. Seventeen to-day! He +looked out of the window and felt that he was bearing upon +his shoulders the whole of that green world outspread before +him.</p> + +<p>The serene morning ripened to a splendid noontide, and +Mark who had intended to celebrate his birthday by enjoying +every moment of it had allowed the best of the hours to slip +away in a stupor of indecision. More and more the vision +of Esther last night haunted him, and he felt that he could +not go and see the Greys as he had intended. He could not +bear the contemplation of the three girls with the weight of +Esther on his mind. He decided to walk over to Little +Fairfield and persuade Richard to make a journey of exploration +up the Greenrush in a canoe. He would ask Richard +his opinion of Will Starling. What a foolish notion! He +knew perfectly well Richard's opinion of the Squire, and to +lure him into a restatement of it would be the merest self-indulgence.</p> + +<p>"Well, I must go somewhere to-day," Mark shouted at +himself. He secured a packet of sandwiches from the +Rectory cook and set out to walk away his worries.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I go down to Wych Maries? I needn't +meet that chap. And if I see him I needn't speak to him. +He's always been only too jolly glad to be offensive to me."</p> + +<p>Mark turned aside from the high road by the crooked +signpost and took the same path down under the ash-trees as +he had taken with Esther for the first time nearly a year ago. +Spring was much more like Spring in these wooded hollows; +the noise of bees in the blossom of the elms was murmurous +as limes in June. Mark congratulated himself on the spot +in which he had chosen to celebrate this fine birthday, a day +robbed from time like the day of a dream. He ate his lunch +by the old mill dam, feeding the roach with crumbs until an +elderly pike came up from the deeps and frightened the +smaller fish away. He searched for a bullfinch's nest; but +he did not find one, though he saw several of the birds +singing in the snowberry bushes; round and ruddy as October +apples they looked. At last he went to the ruined chapel, +where after speculating idly for a little while upon its former +state he fell as he usually did when he visited Wych Maries +into a contemplation of the two images of the Blessed Virgin +and St. Mary Magdalene. While he sat on a hummock of +grass before the old West doorway he received an impression +that since he last visited these forms of stone they had ceased +to be mere relics of ancient worship unaccountably preserved +from ruin, but that they had somehow regained their importance. +It was not that he discerned in them any +miraculous quality of living, still less of winking or sweating +as images are reputed to wink and sweat for the faithful. +No, it was not that, he decided, although by regarding them +thus entranced as he was he could easily have brought himself +to the point of believing in a supernatural manifestation. He +was too well aware of this tendency to surrender to it; so, +rousing himself from the rapt contemplation of them and +forsaking the hummock of grass, he climbed up into the +branches of a yew-tree that stood beside the chapel, that there +and from that elevation, viewing the images and yet unviewed +by them directly, he could be immune from the magic of +fancy and discover why they should give him this impression +of having regained their utility, yes, that was the word, +utility, not importance. They were revitalized not from +within, but from without; and even as his mind leapt at this +explanation he perceived in the sunlight, beyond the shadowy +yew-tree in which he was perched, Esther sitting upon that +hummock of grass where but a moment ago he had himself +been sitting.</p> + +<p>For a moment, as if to contradict a reasonable explanation +of the strange impression the images had made upon him, +Mark supposed that she was come there for a tryst. This +vanished almost at once in the conviction that Esther's soul +waited there either in question or appeal. He restrained an +impulse to declare his presence, for although he felt that he +was intruding upon a privacy of the soul, he feared to destroy +the fruits of that privacy by breaking in. He knew that +Esther's pride would be so deeply outraged at having been +discovered in a moment of weakness thus upon her knees, +for she had by now fallen upon her knees in prayer, that it +might easily happen she would never in all her life pray more. +There was no escape for Mark without disturbing her, and +he sat breathless in the yew-tree, thinking that soon she must +perceive his glittering eye in the depths of the dark foliage as +in passing a hedgerow one may perceive the eye of a nested +bird. From his position he could see the images, and out of +the spiritual agony of Esther kneeling there, the force of +which was communicated to himself, he watched them close, +scarcely able to believe that they would not stoop from their +pedestals and console the suppliant woman with benediction +of those stone hands now clasped aspiringly to God, themselves +for centuries suppliant like the woman at their feet. +Mark could think of nothing better to do than to turn his +face from Esther's face and to say for her many <i>Paternosters</i> +and <i>Aves</i>. At first he thought that he was praying in a +silence of nature; but presently the awkwardness of his +position began to affect his concentration, and he found that +he was saying the words mechanically, listening the while to +the voices of birds. He compelled his attention to the +prayers; but the birds were too loud. The <i>Paternosters</i> and +the <i>Aves</i> were absorbed in their singing and chirping and +twittering, so that Mark gave up to them and wished for a +rosary to help his feeble attention. Yet could he have used +a rosary without falling out of the yew-tree? He took his +hands from the bough for a moment and nearly overbalanced. +<i>Make not your rosary of yew berries</i>, he found himself +saying. Who wrote that? <i>Make not your rosary of yew +berries.</i> Why, of course, it was Keats. It was the first +line of the <i>Ode to Melancholy</i>. Esther was still kneeling +out there in the sunlight. And how did the poem continue? +<i>Make not your rosary of yew berries.</i> What was the second +line? It was ridiculous to sit astride a bough and say +<i>Paternosters</i> and <i>Aves</i>. He could not sit there much longer. +And then just as he was on the point of letting go he saw +that Esther had risen from her knees and that Will Starling +was standing in the doorway of the chapel looking at her, +not speaking but waiting for her to speak, while he wound a +strand of ivy round his fingers and unwound it again, and +wound it round again until it broke and he was saying:</p> + +<p>"I thought we agreed after your last display here that +you'd give this cursed chapel the go by?"</p> + +<p>"I can't escape from it," Esther cried. "You don't understand, +Will, what it means. You never have understood."</p> + +<p>"Dearest Essie, I understand only too well. I've paid +pretty handsomely in having to listen to reproaches, in having +to dry your tears and stop your sighs with kisses. Your +damned religion is a joke. Can't you grasp that? It's not +my fault we can't get married. If I were really the scoundrel +you torment yourself into thinking I am, I would have +married and taken the risk of my strumpet of a wife turning +up. But I've treated you honestly, Essie. I can't help loving +you. I went away once. I went away again. And a third +time I went just to relieve your soul of the sin of loving me. +But I'm sick of suffering for the sake of a myth, a +superstition."</p> + +<p>Esther had moved close to him, and now she put a hand +upon his arm.</p> + +<p>"To you, Will. Not to me."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Essie," said her lover. "If you knew that +you were liable to these dreadful attacks of remorse and +penitence, why did you ever encourage me?"</p> + +<p>"How dare you say I encouraged you?"</p> + +<p>"Now don't let your religion make you dishonest," he +stabbed. "No man seduces a woman of your character without +as much goodwill as deserves to be called encouragement, +and by God <i>is</i> encouragement," he went on furiously. "Let's +cut away some of the cant before we begin arguing again +about religion."</p> + +<p>"You don't know what a hell you're making for me when +you talk like that," she gasped. "If I did encourage you, +then my sin is a thousand times blacker."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't exaggerate, my dear girl," he said wearily. "It +isn't a sin for two people to love each other."</p> + +<p>"I've tried my best to think as you do, but I can't. I've +avoided going to church. I've tried to hate religion, I've +mocked at God . . ." she broke off in despair of explaining +the force of grace, against the gift of which she had contended +in vain.</p> + +<p>"I always thought you were brave, Essie. But you're a +real coward. The reason for all this is your fear of being +pitchforked into a big bonfire by a pantomime demon with +horns and a long tail." He laughed bitterly. "To think that +you, my adored Essie, should really have the soul of a Sunday +school teacher. You, a Bacchante of passion, to be puling +about your sins. You! You! Girl, you're mad! I tell you +there is no such thing as damnation. It's a bogey invented +by priests to enchain mankind. But if there is and if that +muddle-headed old gentleman you call God really exists and +if he's a just God, why then let him damn me and let him +give you your harp and your halo while I burn for both. +Essie, my mad foolish frightened Essie, can't you understand +that if you give me up for this God of yours you'll drive me +to murder. If I must marry you to hold you, why then I'll +kill that cursed wife of mine. . . ."</p> + +<p>It was his turn now to break off in despair of being able +to express his will to keep Esther for his own, and because +argument seemed so hopeless he tried to take her in his +arms, whereupon Mark who was aching with the effort to +maintain himself unobserved upon the bough of the yew-tree +said his <i>Paternosters</i> and <i>Aves</i> faster than ever, that she +might have the strength to resist that scoundrel of Rushbrooke +Grange. He longed to have the eloquence to make +some wonderful prayer to the Blessed Virgin and St. Mary +Magdalene so that a miracle might happen and their images +point accusing hands at the blasphemer below.</p> + +<p>And then it seemed as if a miracle did happen, for out of +the jangle of recriminations and appeals that now signified +no more than the noise of trees in a storm he heard the voice +of Esther gradually gain its right to be heard, gradually win +from its rival silence until the tale was told.</p> + +<p>"I know that I am overcome by the saving grace of God," +she was saying. "And I know that I owe it to them." She +pointed to the holy women above the door. The squire shook +his fist; but he still kept silence. "I have run away from +God since I knew you, Will. I have loved you as much as +that. I have gone to church only when I had to go for my +brother's sake, but I have actually stuffed my ears with +cotton wool so that no word there spoken might shake my +faith in my right to love you. But it was all to no purpose. +You know that it was you who told me always to come to +our meetings through the wood and past the chapel. And +however fast I went and however tight I shut myself up in +thoughts of you and your love and my love I have always +felt that these images spoke to me reproachfully in passing. +It's not mere imagination, Will. Why, before we came to +Wych-on-the-Wold when you went away to the Pacific that +I might have peace of mind, I used always to be haunted by +the idea that God was calling me back to Him, and I would +run, yes, actually run through the woods until my legs have +been torn by brambles."</p> + +<p>"Madness! Madness!" cried Starling.</p> + +<p>"Let it be madness. If God chooses to pursue a human +soul with madness, the pursuit is not less swift and relentless +for that. And I shook Him off. I escaped from religion; I +prayed to the Devil to keep me wicked, so utterly did I love +you. Then when my brother was offered Wych-on-the-Wold +I felt that the Devil had heard my prayer and had indeed +made me his own. That frightened me for a moment. When +I wrote to you and said we were coming here and you hurried +back, I can't describe to you the fear that overcame me when +I first entered this hollow where you lived. Several times +I'd tried to come down before you arrived here, but I'd +always been afraid, and that was why the first night I brought +Mark with me."</p> + +<p>"That long-legged prig and puppy," grunted the squire.</p> + +<p>Mark could have shouted for joy when he heard this, +shouted because he was helping with his <i>Paternosters</i> and +his <i>Aves</i> to drive this ruffian out of Esther's life for ever, +shouted because his long legs were strong enough to hold on +to this yew-tree bough.</p> + +<p>"He's neither a prig nor a puppy," Esther said. "I've +treated him badly ever since he came to live with us, and +I treated him badly on your account, because whenever I was +with him I found it harder to resist the pursuit of God. Now +let's leave Mark out of this. Everything was in your favour, +I tell you. I was sure that the Devil. . . ."</p> + +<p>"The Devil!" Starling interrupted. "Your Devil, dear +Essie, is as ridiculous as your God. It's only your poor old +God with his face painted black like the bogey man of +childhood."</p> + +<p>"I was sure that the Devil," Esther repeated without seeming +to hear the blasphemy, "had taken me for his own and +given us to each other. You to me. Me to you, my darling. +I didn't care. I was ready to burn in Hell for you. So, +don't call me coward, for mad though you think me I was +ready to be damned for you, and <i>I</i> believe in damnation. +You don't. Yet the first time I passed by this chapel on my +way to meet you again after that endless horrible parting I +had to run away from the holy influence. I remember that +there was a black cow in the field near the gates of the +Grange, and I waited there while Mark poked about in this +chapel, waited in the twilight afraid to go back and tell him +to hurry in case I should be recaptured by God and meet you +only to meet you never more."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you thought my old Kerry cow was the Devil, +eh?" he sneered.</p> + +<p>She paid no attention, but continued enthralled by the +passion of her spiritual adventure.</p> + +<p>"It was no use. I couldn't come by here every day and +not go back. Why, once I opened the Bible at hazard just +to show my defiance and I read <i>Her sins which are many are +forgiven for she loved much.</i> This must be the end of our +love, my lover, for I can't go on. Those two stone Maries +have brought me back to God. No more with you, my own +beloved. No more, my darling, no more. And yet if even +now with one kiss you could give me strength to sin I should +rejoice. But they have made my lips as cold as their own, +and my arms that once knew how to clasp you to my heart +they have lifted up to Heaven like their own. I am going +into a convent at once, where until I die I shall pray for you, +my own love."</p> + +<p>The birds no longer sang nor twittered nor cheeped in +the thickets around, but all passion throbbed in the voice of +Esther when she spoke these words. She stood there with +her hair in disarray transfigured like a tree in autumn on +which the sunlight shines when the gale has died, but from +which the leaves will soon fall because winter is at hand. +Yet her lover was so little moved by her ordeal that he went +back to mouthing his blasphemies.</p> + +<p>"Go then," he shouted. "But these two stone dolls shall +not have power to drive my next mistress into folly. Wasn't +Mary Magdalene a sinner? Didn't she fall in love with +Christ? Of course, she did! And I'll make an example of +her just as Christians make an example of all women who +love much."</p> + +<p>The squire pulled himself up by the ivy and struck the +image of St. Mary Magdalene on the face.</p> + +<p>"When you pray for me, dear Essie, in your convent of +greensick women, don't forget that your patron saint was +kicked from her pedestal by your lover."</p> + +<p>Starling was as good as his word; but the effort he made +to overthrow the saint carried him with it; his foot catching +in the ivy fell head downward and striking upon a stone was +killed.</p> + +<p>Mark hesitated before he jumped down from his bough, +because he dreaded to add to Esther's despair the thought of +his having overheard all that went before. But seeing her +in the sunlight now filled again with the voices of birds, +seeing her blue eyes staring in horror and the nervous twitching +of her hands he felt that the shock of his irruption might +save her reason and in a moment he was standing beside her +looking down at the dead man.</p> + +<p>"Let me die too," she cried.</p> + +<p>Mark found himself answering in a kind of inspiration:</p> + +<p>"No, Esther, you must live to pray for his soul."</p> + +<p>"He was struck dead for his blasphemy. He is in Hell. +Of what use to pray for his soul?"</p> + +<p>"But Esther while he was falling, even in that second, he +had time to repent. Live, Esther. Live to pray for him."</p> + +<p>Mark was overcome with a desire to laugh at the stilted +way in which he was talking, and, from the suppression of +the desire, to laugh wildly at everything in the scene, and not +least at the comic death of Will Starling, even at the corpse +itself lying with a broken neck at his feet. By an effort of +will he regained control of his muscles, and the tension of +the last half hour finding no relief in bodily relaxation was +stamped ineffaceably upon his mind to take its place with +that afternoon in his father's study at the Lima Street +Mission which first inspired him with dread of the sexual +relation of man to woman, a dread that was now made permanent +by what he had endured on the bough of that yew-tree.</p> + +<p>Thanks to Mark's intervention the business was explained +without scandal; nobody doubted that the squire of Rushbrooke +Grange died a martyr to his dislike of ivy's +encroaching upon ancient images. Esther's stormy soul took +refuge in a convent, and there it seemed at peace.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV" />CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>THE SCHOLARSHIP</h3> + + +<p>The encounter between Esther and Will Starling had the +effect of strengthening Mark's intention to be celibate. +He never imagined himself as a possible protagonist in such +a scene; but the impression of that earlier encounter between +his mother and father which gave him a horror of human +love was now renewed. It was renewed, moreover, with +the light of a miracle to throw it into high relief. And this +miracle could not be explained away as a coincidence, but +was an old-fashioned miracle that required no psychical +buttressing, a hard and fast miracle able to withstand any +criticism. It was a pity that out of regard for Esther he +could not publish it for the encouragement of the faithful +and the confusion of the unbelievers.</p> + +<p>The miracle of St. Mary Magdalene's intervention on his +seventeenth birthday was the last violent impression of +Mark's boyhood. Thenceforward life moved placidly +through the changing weeks of a country calendar until the +date of the scholarship examination held by the group of +colleges that contained St. Mary's, the college he aspired to +enter, but for which he failed to win even an exhibition. Mr. +Ogilvie was rather glad, for he had been worried how Mark +was going to support himself for three or four years at an +expensive college like St. Mary's. But when Mark was no +more successful with another group of colleges, his tutors +began to be alarmed, wondering if their method of teaching +Latin and Greek lacked the tradition of the public school +necessary to success.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, it's obviously my fault," said Mark. "I expect +I go to pieces in examinations, or perhaps I'm not intended +to go to Oxford."</p> + +<p>"I beg you, my dear boy," said the Rector a little irritably, +"not to apply such a loose fatalism to your career. What +will you do if you don't go to the University?"</p> + +<p>"It's not absolutely essential for a priest to have been +to the University," Mark argued.</p> + +<p>"No, but in your case I think it's highly advisable. You +haven't had a public school education, and inasmuch as I +stand to you <i>in loco parentis</i> I should consider myself most +culpable if I didn't do everything possible to give you a fair +start. You haven't got a very large sum of money to launch +yourself upon the world, and I want you to spend what you +have to the best advantage. Of course, if you can't get a +scholarship, you can't and that's the end of it. But, rather +than that you should miss the University I will supplement +from my own savings enough to carry you through three +years as a commoner."</p> + +<p>Tears stood in Mark's eyes.</p> + +<p>"You've already been far too generous," he said. "You +shan't spend any more on me. I'm sorry I talked in that +foolish way. It was really only a kind of affectation of +indifference. I'm feeling pretty sore with myself for being +such a failure; but I'll have another shot and I hope I shall +do better."</p> + +<p>Mark as a last chance tried for a close scholarship at St. +Osmund's Hall for the sons of clergymen.</p> + +<p>"It's a tiny place of course," said the Rector. "But it's +authentic Oxford, and in some ways perhaps you would be +happier at a very small college. Certainly you'd find your +money went much further."</p> + +<p>The examination was held in the Easter vacation, and when +Mark arrived at the college he found only one other candidate +besides himself. St. Osmund's Hall with its miniature +quadrangle, miniature hall, miniature chapel, empty of +undergraduates and with only the Principal and a couple of +tutors in residence, was more like an ancient almshouse than +an Oxford college. Mark and his rival, a raw-boned youth +called Emmett who was afflicted with paroxysms of stammering, +moved about the precincts upon tiptoe like people +trespassing from a high road.</p> + +<p>On their first evening the two candidates were invited to +dine with the Principal, who read second-hand book +catalogues all through dinner, only pausing from their +perusal to ask occasionally in a courtly tone if Mr. Lidderdale +or Mr. Emmett would not take another glass of wine. After +dinner they sat in his library where the Principal addressed +himself to the evidently uncongenial task of estimating the +comparative fitness of his two guests to receive Mr. Tweedle's +bounty. The Reverend Thomas Tweedle was a benevolent +parson of the eighteenth century who by his will had provided +the money to educate the son of one indigent clergyman for +four years. Mark was shy enough under the Principal's +courtly inquisition, but poor Emmett had a paroxysm each +time he was asked the simplest question about his tastes or +his ambitions. His tongue appearing like a disturbed +mollusc waved its tip slowly round in an agonized endeavour +to give utterance to such familiar words as "yes" or "no." +Several times Mark feared that he would never get it back +at all and that Emmett would either have to spend the rest +of his life with it protruding before him or submit it to amputation +and become a mute. When the ordeal with the +Principal was over and the two guests were strolling back +across the quadrangle to their rooms, Emmett talked normally +and without a single paroxysm about the effect his stammer +must have had upon the Principal. Mark did his best to +reassure poor Emmett.</p> + +<p>"Really," he said, "it was scarcely noticeable to anybody +else. You noticed it, because you felt your tongue getting +wedged like that between your teeth; but other people would +hardly have noticed it at all. When the Principal asked you +if you were going to take Holy Orders yourself, I'm sure he +only thought you hadn't quite made up your mind yet."</p> + +<p>"But I'm sure he did notice something," poor Emmett +bewailed. "Because he began to hum."</p> + +<p>"Well, but he was always humming," said Mark. "He +hummed all through dinner while he was reading those book +catalogues."</p> + +<p>"It's very kind of you, Lidderdale," said Emmett, "to make +the best of it for me, but I'm not such a fool as I look, and +the Principal certainly hummed six times as loud whenever +he asked me a question as he did over those catalogues. I +know what I look like when I get into one of those states. +I once caught sight of myself in a glass by accident, and now +whenever my tongue gets caught up like that I'm wondering +all the time why everybody doesn't get up and run out of +the room."</p> + +<p>"But I assure you," Mark persisted, "that little things like +that—"</p> + +<p>"Little things like that!" Emmett interrupted furiously. +"It's all very well for you, Lidderdale, to talk about little +things like that. If you had a tongue like mine which seems +to get bigger instead of smaller every year, you'd feel very +differently."</p> + +<p>"But people always grow out of stammering," Mark +pointed out.</p> + +<p>"Thanks very much," said Emmett bitterly, "but where +shall I be by the time I've grown out of it? You don't suppose +I shall win this scholarship, do you, after they've seen +me gibbering and mouthing at them like that? But if only +I could manage somehow to get to Oxford I should have a +chance of being ordained, and—" he broke off, perhaps +unwilling to embarrass his rival by any more lamentations.</p> + +<p>"Do forget about this evening," Mark begged, "and come +up to my room and have a talk before you turn in."</p> + +<p>"No, thanks very much," said Emmett. "I must sit up +and do some work. We've got that general knowledge paper +to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"But you won't be able to acquire much more general +knowledge in one evening," Mark protested.</p> + +<p>"I might," said Emmett darkly. "I noticed a Whitaker's +almanack in the rooms I have. My only chance to get this +scholarship is to do really well in my papers; and though I +know it's no good and that this is my last chance, I'm not +going to neglect anything that could possibly help. I've got +a splendid memory for statistics, and if they'll only ask a few +statistics in the general knowledge paper I may have some +luck to-morrow. Good-night, Lidderdale, I'm sorry to have +inflicted myself on you like this."</p> + +<p>Emmett hurried away up the staircase leading to his room +and left his rival standing on the moonlit grass of the quadrangle. +Mark was turning toward his own staircase when he +heard a window open above and Emmett's voice:</p> + +<p>"I've found another Whitaker of the year before," it +proclaimed. "I'll read that, and you'd better read this year's. +If by any chance I did win this scholarship, I shouldn't like +to think I'd taken an unfair advantage of you, Lidderdale."</p> + +<p>"Thanks very much, Emmett," said Mark. "But I think +I'll have a shot at getting to bed early."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you're not worrying," said Emmett gloomily, retiring +from the window.</p> + +<p>When Mark was sitting by the fire in his room and thinking +over the dinner with the Principal and poor Emmett's +stammering and poor Emmett's words in the quad +afterwards, he began to imagine what it would mean to poor +Emmett if he failed to win the scholarship. Mark had not +been so successful himself in these examinations as to justify +a grand self-confidence; but he could not regard Emmett as +a dangerous competitor. Had he the right in view of Emmett's +handicap to accept this scholarship at his expense? +To be sure, he might urge on his own behalf that without it +he should himself be debarred from Oxford. What would +the loss of it mean? It would mean, first of all, that Mr. +Ogilvie would make the financial effort to maintain him for +three years as a commoner, an effort which he could ill afford +to make and which Mark had not the slightest intention of +allowing him to make. It would mean, next, that he should +have to occupy himself during the years before his ordination +with some kind of work among people. He obviously +could not go on reading theology at Wych-on-the-Wold until +he went to Glastonbury. Such an existence, however attractive, +was no preparation for the active life of a priest. +It would mean, thirdly, a great disappointment to his friend +and patron, and considering the social claims of the Church +of England it would mean a handicap for himself. There +was everything to be said for winning this scholarship, nothing +to be said against it on the grounds of expediency. On +the grounds of expediency, no, but on other grounds? Should +he not be playing the better part if he allowed Emmett to +win? No doubt all that was implied in the necessity for him +to win a scholarship was equally implied in the necessity for +Emmett to win one. It was obvious that Emmett was no +better off than himself; it was obvious that Emmett was +competing in a kind of despair. Mark remembered how a +few minutes ago his rival had offered him this year's Whitaker, +keeping for himself last year's almanack. Looked at +from the point of view of Emmett who really believed that +something might be gained at this eleventh hour from a study +of the more recent volume, it had been a fine piece of self-denial. +It showed that Emmett had Christian talents which +surely ought not to be wasted because he was handicapped +by a stammer.</p> + +<p>The spell that Oxford had already cast on Mark, the +glamour of the firelight on the walls and raftered ceiling of +this room haunted by centuries of youthful hope, did not +persuade him how foolish it was to surrender all this. On +the contrary, this prospect of Oxford so beautiful in the firelight +within, so fair in the moonlight without, impelled him +to renounce it, and the very strength of his temptation to +enjoy all this by winning the scholarship helped him to make +up his mind to lose it. But how? The obvious course was +to send in idiotic answers for the rest of his papers. Yet +examinations were so mysterious that when he thought he +was being most idiotic he might actually be gaining his best +marks. Moreover, the examiners might ascribe his answers +to ill health, to some sudden attack of nerves, especially if +his papers to-day had been tolerably good. Looking back +at the Principal's attitude after dinner that night, Mark could +not help feeling that there had been something in his manner +which had clearly shown a determination not to award the +scholarship to poor Emmett if it could possibly be avoided. +The safest way would be to escape to-morrow morning, put +up at some country inn for the next two days, and go back +to Wych-on-the-Wold; but if he did that, the college authorities +might write to Mr. Ogilvie to demand the reason for +such extraordinary behaviour. And how should he explain +it? If he really intended to deny himself, he must take care +that nobody knew he was doing so. It would give him an +air of unbearable condescension, should it transpire that he +had deliberately surrendered his scholarship to Emmett. +Moreover, poor Emmett would be so dreadfully mortified +if he found out. No, he must complete his papers, do them +as badly as he possibly could, and leave the result to the +wisdom of God. If God wished Emmett to stammer forth +His praises and stutter His precepts from the pulpit, God +would know how to manage that seemingly so intractable +Principal. Or God might hear his prayers and cure poor +Emmett of his impediment. Mark wondered to what saint +was entrusted the patronage of stammerers; but he could not +remember. The man in whose rooms he was lodging possessed +very few books, and those few were mostly detective +stories.</p> + +<p>It amused Mark to make a fool of himself next morning +in the general knowledge paper. He flattered himself that +no candidate for a scholarship at St. Osmund's Hall had ever +shown such black ignorance of the facts of every-day life. +Had he been dropped from Mars two days before, he could +scarcely have shown less knowledge of the Earth. Mark +tried to convey an impression that he had been injudiciously +crammed with Latin and Greek, and in the afternoon he +produced a Latin prose that would have revolted the easy +conscience of a fourth form boy. Finally, on the third day, +in an unseen passage set from the Georgics he translated +<i>tonsisque ferunt mantelia villis</i> by <i>having pulled down the +villas (i. e. literally shaved) they carry off the mantelpieces</i> +which he followed up with translating <i>Maeonii carchesia +Bacchi</i> as the <i>lees of Maeonian wine (i.e. literally carcases of +Maeonian Bacchus)</i>.</p> + +<p>"I say, Lidderdale," said Emmett, when they came out of +the lecture room where the examination was being held. "I +had a tremendous piece of luck this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Did you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've just been reading the fourth Georgics last term, +and I don't think I made a single mistake in that unseen."</p> + +<p>"Good work," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"I wonder when they'll let us know who's got the scholarship," +said Emmett. "But of course you've won," he added +with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"I did very badly both yesterday and to-day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're only saying that to encourage me," Emmett +sighed. "It sounds a dreadful thing to say and I ought not +to say it because it'll make you uncomfortable, but if I don't +succeed, I really think I shall kill myself."</p> + +<p>"All right, that's a bargain," Mark laughed; and when his +rival shook hands with him at parting he felt that poor Emmett +was going home to Rutland convinced that Mark was +just as hard-hearted as the rest of the world and just as +ready to laugh at his misfortune.</p> + +<p>It was Saturday when the examination was finished, and +Mark wished he could be granted the privilege of staying +over Sunday in college. He had no regrets for what he had +done; he was content to let this experience be all that he +should ever intimately gain of Oxford; but he should like +to have the courage to accost one of the tutors and to tell +him that being convinced he should never come to Oxford +again he desired the privilege of remaining until Monday +morning, so that he might crystallize in that short space of +time an impression which, had he been successful in gaining +the scholarship, would have been spread over four years. +Mark was not indulging in sentiment; he really felt that by +the intensity of the emotion with which he would live those +twenty-four hours he should be able to achieve for himself +as much as he should achieve in four years. So far as the +world was concerned, this experience would be valueless; for +himself it would be beyond price. So far as the world was +concerned, he would never have been to Oxford; but could +he be granted this privilege, Oxford would live for ever in +his heart, a refuge and a meditation until the grave. Yet this +coveted experience must be granted from without to make +it a perfect experience. To ask and to be refused leave to +stay till Monday would destroy for him the value of what +he had already experienced in three days' residence; even to +ask and to be granted the privilege would spoil it in retrospect. +He went down the stairs from his room and stood in +the little quadrangle, telling himself that at any rate he might +postpone his departure until twilight and walk the seven miles +from Shipcot to Wych-on-the-Wold. While he was on his +way to notify the porter of the time of his departure he met +the Principal, who stopped him and asked how he had got on +with his papers. Mark wondered if the Principal had been +told about his lamentable performance and was making +inquiries on his own account to find out if the unsuccessful +candidate really was a lunatic.</p> + +<p>"Rather badly, I'm afraid, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, I shall see you at dinner to-night," said the Principal +dismissing Mark with a gesture before he had time even +to look surprised. This was a new perplexity, for Mark +divined from the Principal's manner that he had entirely +forgotten that the scholarship examination was over and that +the candidates had already dined with him. He went into +the lodge and asked the porter's advice.</p> + +<p>"The Principal's a most absent-minded gentleman," said +the porter. "Most absent-minded, he is. He's the talk of +Oxford sometimes is the Principal. What do you think he +went and did only last term. Why, he was having some of +the senior men to tea and was going to put some coal on the +fire with the tongs and some sugar in his cup. Bothered if +he didn't put the sugar in the fire and a lump of coal in his +cup. It didn't so much matter him putting sugar in the fire. +That's all according, as they say. But fancy—well, I tell +you we had a good laugh over it in the lodge when the gentlemen +came out and told me."</p> + +<p>"Ought I to explain that I've already dined with him?" +Mark asked.</p> + +<p>"Are you in any what you might call immediate hurry to +get away?" the porter asked judicially.</p> + +<p>"I'm in no hurry at all. I'd like to stay a bit longer."</p> + +<p>"Then you'd better go to dinner with him again to-night +and stay in college over the Sunday. I'll take it upon myself +to explain to the Dean why you're still here. If it had been +tea I should have said 'don't bother about it,' but dinner's +another matter, isn't it? And he always has dinner laid for +two or more in case he's asked anybody and forgotten."</p> + +<p>Thus it came about that for the second time Mark dined +with the Principal, who disconcerted him by saying when he +arrived:</p> + +<p>"I remember now that you dined with me the night before +last. You should have told me. I forget these things. But +never mind, you'd better stay now you're here."</p> + +<p>The Principal read second-hand book catalogues all +through dinner just as he had done two nights ago, and he +only interrupted his perusal to inquire in courtly tones if +Mark would take another glass of wine. The only difference +between now and the former occasion was the absence of +poor Emmett and his paroxysms. After dinner with some +misgivings if he ought not to leave his host to himself Mark +followed him upstairs to the library. The principal was one +of those scholars who live in an atmosphere of their own +given off by old calf-bound volumes and who apparently can +only inhale the air of the world in which ordinary men move +when they are smoking their battered old pipes. Mark sitting +opposite to him by the fireside was tempted to pour +out the history of himself and Emmett, to explain how he +had come to make such a mess of the examination. Perhaps +if the Principal had alluded to his papers Mark would have +found the courage to talk about himself; but the Principal +was apparently unaware that his guest had any ambitions +to enter St. Osmund's Hall, and whatever questions he asked +related to the ancient folios and quartos he took down in turn +from his shelves. A clock struck ten in the moonlight without, +and Mark rose to go. He felt a pang as he walked +from the cloudy room and looked for the last time at that tall +remote scholar, who had forgotten his guest's existence at +the moment he ceased to shake his hand and who by the time +he had reached the doorway was lost again in the deeps of +the crabbed volume resting upon his knees. Mark sighed as +he closed the library door behind him, for he knew that he +was shutting out a world. But when he stood in the small +silver quadrangle Mark was glad that he had not given way +to the temptation of confiding in the Principal. It would +have been a feeble end to his first denial of self. He was sure +that he had done right in surrendering his place to Emmett, +for was not the unexpected opportunity to spend these few +more hours in Oxford a sign of God's approval? <i>Bright as +the glimpses of eternity to saints accorded in their mortal +hour.</i> Such was Oxford to-night.</p> + +<p>Mark sat for a long while at the open window of his room +until the moon had passed on her way and the quadrangle +was in shadow; and while he sat there he was conscious of +how many people had inhabited this small quadrangle and of +how they too had passed on their way like the moon, leaving +behind them no more than he should leave behind from this +one hour of rapture, no more than the moon had left of her +silver upon the dim grass below.</p> + +<p>Mark was not given to gazing at himself in mirrors, but +he looked at himself that night in the mirror of the tiny bedroom, +into which the April air came up sweet and frore from +the watermeadows of the Cherwell close at hand.</p> + +<p>"What will you do now?" he asked his reflection. "Yet, +you have such a dark ecclesiastical face that I'm sure you'll +be a priest whether you go to Oxford or not."</p> + +<p>Mark was right in supposing his countenance to be ecclesiastical. +But it was something more than that: it was +religious. Even already, when he was barely eighteen, the +high cheekbones and deepset burning eyes gave him an ascetic +look, while the habit of prayer and meditation had added to +his expression a steadfast purpose that is rarely seen in +people as young as him. What his face lacked were those +contours that come from association with humanity; the ripeness +that is bestowed by long tolerance of folly, the +mellowness that has survived the icy winds of disillusion. +It was the absence of these contours that made Mark think +his face so ecclesiastical; however, if at eighteen he had possessed +contours and soft curves, they would have been +nothing but the contours and soft curves of that rose, youth; +and this ecclesiastical bonyness would not fade and fall as +swiftly as that.</p> + +<p>Mark turned from the glass in sudden irritation at his +selfishness in speculating about his appearance and his future, +when in a short time he should have to break the news to +his guardian that he had thrown away for a kindly impulse +the fruit of so many months of diligence and care.</p> + +<p>"What am I going to say to Ogilvie?" he exclaimed. "I +can't go back to Wych and live there in pleasant idleness until +it's time to go to Glastonbury. I must have some scheme for +the immediate future."</p> + +<p>In bed when the light was out and darkness made the +most fantastic project appear practical, Mark had an inspiration +to take the habit of a preaching friar. Why should he +not persuade Dorward to join him? Together they would +tramp the English country, compelling even the dullest yokels +to hear the word of God . . . discalced . . . over hill, +down dale . . . telling stories of the saints and martyrs in +remote inns . . . deep lanes . . . the butterflies and the +birds . . . Dorward should say Mass in the heart of great +woods . . . over hill, down dale . . . discalced . . . +preaching to men of Christ. . . .</p> + +<p>Mark fell asleep.</p> + +<p>In the morning Mark heard Mass at the church of the +Cowley Fathers, a strengthening experience, because the +Gregorian there so strictly and so austerely chanted without +any consideration for sentimental humanity possessed that +very effect of liberating and purifying spirit held in the bonds +of flesh which is conveyed by the wind blowing through a +grove of pines or by waves quiring below a rocky shore.</p> + +<p>If Mark had had the least inclination to be sorry for himself +and indulge in the flattery of regret, it vanished in this +music. Rolling down through time on the billows of the +mighty Gregorian it were as grotesque to pity oneself as it +were for an Arctic explorer to build a snowman for company +at the North Pole.</p> + +<p>Mark came out of St. John's, Cowley, into the suburban +prettiness of Iffley Road, where men and women in their +Sunday best tripped along in the April sunlight, tripped along +in their Sunday best like newly hatched butterflies and beetles. +Mark went in and out of colleges all day long, forgetting +about the problem of his immediate future just as he forgot +that the people in the sunny streets were not really butterflies +and beetles. At twilight he decided to attend Evensong +at St. Barnabas'. Perhaps the folk in the sunny April streets +had turned his thoughts unconsciously toward the simple +aspirations of simple human nature. He felt when he came +into the warm candle-lit church like one who has voyaged far +and is glad to be at home again. How everybody sang together +that night, and how pleasant Mark found this +congregational outburst. It was all so jolly that if the organist +had suddenly turned round like an Italian organ-grinder +and kissed his fingers to the congregation, his action would +have seemed perfectly appropriate. Even during the +<i>Magnificat</i>, when the altar was being censed, the tinkling of +the thurible reminded Mark of a tambourine; and the lighting +and extinction of the candles was done with as much suppressed +excitement as if the candles were going to shoot red +and green stars or go leaping and cracking all round the +chancel.</p> + +<p>It happened this evening that the preacher was Father +Rowley, that famous priest of the Silchester College Mission +in the great naval port of Chatsea. Father Rowley was a +very corpulent man with a voice of such compassion and with +an eloquence so simple that when he ascended into the pulpit, +closed his eyes, and began to speak, his listeners involuntarily +closed their eyes and followed that voice whithersoever it led +them. He neither changed the expression of his face nor +made use of dramatic gestures; he scarcely varied his tone, +yet he could keep a congregation breathlessly attentive for +an hour. Although he seemed to be speaking in a kind of +trance, it was evident that he was unusually conscious of his +hearers, for if by chance some pious woman coughed or +turned the pages of a prayer-book he would hold up the +thread of his sermon and without any change of tone reprove +her. It was strange to watch him at such a moment, his eyes +still tightly shut and yet giving the impression of looking +directly at the offending member of the congregation. This +evening he was preaching about a naval disaster which had +lately occurred, the sinking of a great battleship by another +great battleship through a wrong signal. He was describing +the scene when the news reached Chatsea, telling of the +sweethearts and wives of the lost bluejackets who waited +hoping against hope to hear that their loved ones had escaped +death and hearing nearly always the worst news.</p> + +<p>"So many of our own dear bluejackets and marines, some +of whom only last Christmas had been eating their plum +duff at our Christmas dinner, so many of my own dear boys +whom I prepared for Confirmation, whose first Confession +I had heard, and to whom I had given for the first time the +Body and Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ."</p> + +<p>He spoke too of what it meant in the future of material +suffering on top of their mental agony. He asked for money +to help these women immediately, and he spoke fiercely of +the Admiralty red tape and of the obstruction of the official +commission appointed to administer the relief fund.</p> + +<p>The preacher went on to tell stories from the lives of these +boys, finding in each of them some illustration of a Christian +virtue and conveying to his listeners a sense of the extraordinary +preciousness of human life, so that there was no one +who heard him but was fain to weep for those young bluejackets +and marines taken in their prime. He inspired in +Mark a sense of shame that he had ever thought of people +in the aggregate, that he had ever walked along a crowded +street without perceiving the importance of every single +human being that helped to compose its variety. While he +sat there listening to the Missioner and watching the large +tears roll slowly down his cheeks from beneath the closed +lids, Mark wondered how he could have dared to suppose last +night that he was qualified to become a friar and preach the +Gospel to the poor. While Father Rowley was speaking, he +began to apprehend that before he could aspire to do that +he must himself first of all learn about Christ from those +very poor whom he had planned to convert.</p> + +<p>This sermon was another milestone in Mark's religious +life. It discovered in him a hidden treasure of humility, and +it taught him to build upon the rock of human nature. He +divined the true meaning of Our Lord's words to St. Peter: +<i>Thou art Peter and on this rock I will build my church and +the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it.</i> John was the +disciple whom Jesus loved, but he chose Peter with all his +failings and all his follies, with his weakness and his cowardice +and his vanity. He chose Peter, the bedrock of human +nature, and to him he gave the keys of Heaven.</p> + +<p>Mark knew that somehow he must pluck up courage to +ask Father Rowley to let him come and work under him at +Chatsea. He was sure that if he could only make him grasp +the spirit in which he would offer himself, the spirit of complete +humility devoid of any kind of thought that he was +likely to be of the least use to the Mission, Father Rowley +might accept his oblation. He would have liked to wait +behind after Evensong and approach the Missioner directly, +so that before speaking to Mr. Ogilvie he might know what +chance the offer had of being accepted; but he decided against +this course, because he felt that Father Rowley's compassion +might be embarrassed if he had to refuse his request, a point +of view that was characteristic of the mood roused in him +by the sermon. He went back to sleep for the last time in +an Oxford college, profoundly reassured of the rightness of +his action in giving up the scholarship to Emmett, although, +which was characteristic of his new mood, he had by this +time begun to tell himself that he had really done nothing +at all and that probably in any case Emmett would have been +the chosen scholar.</p> + +<p>If Mark had still any doubts of his behaviour, they would +have vanished when on getting into the train for Shipcot he +found himself in an otherwise empty third-class smoking +carriage opposite Father Rowley himself, who with a small +black bag beside him, so small that Mark wondered how it +could possibly contain the night attire of so fat a man, was +sitting back in the corner with a large pipe in his mouth. +He was wearing one of those square felt hats sometimes seen +on the heads of farmers, and if one had only seen his head +and hat without the grubby clerical attire beneath one might +have guessed him to be a farmer. Mark noticed now that his +eyes of a limpid blue were like a child's, and he realized +that in his voice while he was preaching there had been +the same sweet gravity of childhood. Just at this moment +Father Rowley caught sight of someone he knew on the +platform and shouting from the window of the compartment +he attracted the attention of a young man wearing an Old +Siltonian tie.</p> + +<p>"My dear man," he cried, "how are you? I've just made +a most idiotic mistake. I got it into my head that I should +be preaching here on the first Sunday in term and was looking +forward to seeing so many Silchester men. I can't think +how I came to make such a muddle."</p> + +<p>Father Rowley's shoulders filled up all the space of the +window, so that Mark only heard scattered fragments of +the conversation, which was mostly about Silchester and the +Siltonians he had hoped to see at Oxford.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, my dear man, good-bye," the Missioner +shouted, as the train moved out of the station. "Come down +and see us soon at Chatsea. The more of you men who +come, the more we shall be pleased."</p> + +<p>Mark's heart leapt at these words, which seemed of good +omen to his own suit. When Father Rowley was ensconced +in his corner and once more puffing away at his pipe, Mark +thought how ridiculous it would sound to say that he had +heard him preach last night at St. Barnabas' and that, having +been much moved by the sermon, he was anxious to be taken +on at St. Agnes' as a lay helper. He wished that Father +Rowley would make some remark to him that would lead +up to his request, but all that Father Rowley said was:</p> + +<p>"This is a slow train to Birmingham, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>This led to a long conversation about trains, and slow +though this one might be it was going much too fast for +Mark, who would be at Shipcot in another twenty minutes +without having taken any advantage of his lucky encounter.</p> + +<p>"Are you up at Oxford?" the priest at last inquired.</p> + +<p>It was now or never; and Mark took the opportunity given +him by that one question to tell Father Rowley twenty disjointed +facts about his life, which ended with a request to be +allowed to come and work at Chatsea.</p> + +<p>"You can come and see us whenever you like," said the +Missioner.</p> + +<p>"But I don't want just to come and pay a visit," said Mark. +"I really do want to be given something to do, and I shan't be +any expense. I only want to keep enough money to go to +Glastonbury in four years' time. If you'd only see how I +got on for a month. I don't pretend I can be of any help to +you. I don't suppose I can. But I do so tremendously want +you to help me."</p> + +<p>"Who did you say your father was?"</p> + +<p>"Lidderdale, James Lidderdale. He was priest-in-charge +of the Lima Street Mission, which belonged to St. Simon's, +Notting Hill, in those days. St. Wilfred's, Notting Dale, it is +now."</p> + +<p>"Lidderdale," Father Rowley echoed. "I knew him. I +knew him well. Lima Street. Viner's there now, a dear good +fellow. So you're Lidderdale's son?"</p> + +<p>"I say, here's my station," Mark exclaimed in despair, "and +you haven't said whether I can come or not."</p> + +<p>"Come down on Tuesday week," said Father Rowley. +"Hurry up, or you'll get carried on to the next station."</p> + +<p>Mark waved his farewell, and he knew, as he drove back +on the omnibus over the rolling wold to Wych that he had +this morning won something much better than a scholarship +at St. Osmund's Hall.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI" />CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>CHATSEA</h3> + + +<p>When Mark had been exactly a week at Chatsea he +celebrated his eighteenth birthday by writing a long +letter to the Rector of Wych:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>St. Agnes' House,</p> + +<p>Keppel Street,</p> + +<p>Chatsea.</p> + +<p>St. Mark's Day.</p> + +<p>My dear Rector,</p> + +<p>Thank you very much for sending me the money. I've +handed it over to a splendid fellow called Gurney who keeps +all the accounts (private or otherwise) in the Mission House. +Poor chap, he's desperately ill with asthma, and nobody +thinks he can live much longer. He suffers tortures, particularly +at night, and as I sleep in the next room I can hear +him.</p> + +<p>You mustn't think me inconsiderate because I haven't +written sooner, but I wanted to wait until I had seen a bit +of this place before I wrote to you so that you might have +some idea what I was doing and be able to realize that it is +the one and only place where I ought to be at the moment.</p> + +<p>But first of all before I say anything about Chatsea I +want to try to express a little of what your kindness has +meant to me during the last two years. I look back at myself +just before my sixteenth birthday when I was feeling +that I should have to run away to sea or do something mad +in order to escape that solicitor's office, and I simply gasp! +What and where should I be now if it hadn't been for you? +You have always made light of the burden I must have been, +and though I have tried to show you my gratitude I'm afraid +it hasn't been very successful. I'm not being very successful +now in putting it into words. I know my failure to gain a +scholarship at Oxford has been a great disappointment to +you, especially after you had worked so hard yourself to +coach me. Please don't be anxious about my letting my +books go to the wall here. I had a talk about this with +Father Rowley, who insisted that anything I am allowed to +do in the district must only be done when I have a good +morning's work with my books behind me. I quite realize +the importance of a priest's education. One of the assistant +priests here, a man called Snaith, took a good degree at +Cambridge both in classics and theology, so I shall have +somebody to keep me on the lines. If I stay here three years +and then have two years at Glastonbury I don't honestly +think that I shall start off much handicapped by having +missed both public school and university. I expect you're +smiling to read after one week of my staying here three +years! But I assure you that the moment I sat down to +supper on the evening of my arrival I felt at home. I think +at first they all thought I was an eager young Ritualist, but +when they found that they didn't get any rises out of ragging +me, they shut up.</p> + +<p>This house is a most extraordinary place. It is an old +Congregational chapel with a gallery all round which has +been made into cubicles, scarcely one of which is ever empty +or ever likely to be empty so far as I can see! I should +think it must be rather like what the guest house of a monastery +used to be like in the old days before the Reformation. +The ground floor of the chapel has been turned into a gymnasium, +and twice a week the apparatus is cleared away and +we have a dance. Every other evening it's used furiously +by Father Rowley's "boys." They're such a jolly lot, and +most of them splendid gymnasts. Quite a few have become +professional acrobats since they opened the gymnasium. +The first morning after my arrival I asked Father Rowley +if he'd got anything special for me to do and he told me +to catalogue the books in his library. Everybody laughed +at this, and I thought at first that some joke was intended, +but when I got to his room I found it really was in utter +confusion with masses of books lying about everywhere. So +I set to work pretty hard and after about three days I got +them catalogued and in good order. When I told him I had +finished he looked very surprised, and a solemn visit of inspection +was ordered. As the room was looking quite tidy +at last, I didn't mind. I've realized since that Father Rowley +always sets people the task of cataloguing and arranging his +books when he doubts if they are really worth their salt, +and now he complains that I have spoilt one of his best +ordeals for slackers. I said to him that he needn't be afraid +because from what I could see of the way he treated books +they would be just as untidy as ever in another week. +Everybody laughed, though I was afraid at first they might +consider it rather cheek my talking like this, but you've got +to stand up for yourself here because there never was such +a place for turning a man inside out. It's a real discipline, +and I think if I manage to deserve to stay here three years +I shall have the right to feel I've had the finest training for +Holy Orders anybody could possibly have.</p> + +<p>You know enough about Father Rowley yourself to +understand how impossible it would be for me to give any +impression of his personality in a letter. I have never felt +so strongly the absolute goodness of anybody. I suppose +that some of the great mediæval saints like St. Francis and +St. Anthony of Padua must have been like that. One reads +about them and what they did, but the facts one reads don't +really tell anything. I always feel that what we really depend +on is a kind of tradition of their absolute saintliness +handed on from the people who experienced it. I suppose +in a way the same applies to Our Lord. I always feel it +wouldn't matter a bit to me if the four Gospels were proved +to be forgeries to-morrow, because I should still be convinced +that Our Lord was God. I know this is a platitude, +but I don't think until I met Father Rowley that I ever +realized the force and power that goes with exceptional +goodness. There are so many people who are good because +they were born good. Richard Ford, for example, he +couldn't have ever been anything else but good, but I always +feel that people like him remain practically out of reach of +the ordinary person and that the goodness is all their own +and dies with them just as it was born with them. What I +feel about a man like Father Rowley is that he probably +had a tremendous fight to be good. Of course, I may be +perfectly wrong and he may have had no fight at all. I +know one of the people at the Mission House told me that, +though there is nobody who likes smoking better than he or +more enjoys a pint of beer with his dinner, he has given up +both at St. Agnes merely to set an example to weak people. +I feel that his goodness was with such energy fought for +that it now exists as a kind of complete thing and will go on +existing when Father Rowley himself is dead. I begin to +understand the doctrine of the treasury of merit. I remember +you once told me how grateful I ought to be to God +because I had apparently escaped the temptations that attack +most boys. I am grateful; but at the same time I can't +claim any merit for it! The only time in my life when I +might have acquired any merit was when I was at Haverton +House. Instead of doing that, I just dried up, and if I +hadn't had that wonderful experience at Whitsuntide in +Meade Cantorum church nearly three years ago I should be +spiritually dead by now.</p> + +<p>This is a very long letter, and I don't seem to have left +myself any time to tell you about St. Agnes' Church. It +reminds me of my father's mission church in Lima Street, +and oddly enough a new church is being built almost next +door just as one was being built in Lima Street. I went to +the children's Mass last Sunday, and I seemed to see him +walking up and down the aisle in his alb, and I thought to +myself that I had never once asked you to say Mass for his +soul. Will you do so now next time you say a black Mass? +This is a wretched letter, and it doesn't succeed in the least +in expressing what I owe to you and what I already owe to +Father Rowley. I used to think that the Sacred Heart was +a rather material device for attracting the multitude, but +I'm beginning to realize in the atmosphere of St. Agnes' that +it is a gloriously simple devotion and that it is human +nature's attempt to express the inexpressible. I'll write to +you again next week. Please give my love to everybody at +the Rectory.</p> + +<p>Always your most affectionate</p> + +<p>Mark.</p></div> + +<p>Father Rowley had been at St. Agnes' seven or eight years +when Mark found himself attached to the Mission, in which +time he had transformed the district completely. It was a +small parish (actually of course it was not a parish at all, +although it was fast qualifying to become one) of something +over a thousand small houses, few of which were less than a +century old. The streets were narrow and crooked, mostly +named after bygone admirals or forgotten sea-fights; the +romantic and picturesque quarter of a great naval port to the +casual glance of a passer-by, but heartbreaking to any except +the most courageous resident on account of its overcrowded +and tumbledown condition. Yet it lacked the dreariness of +an East End slum, for the sea winds blew down the narrowest +streets and alleys, sailors and soldiers were always +in view, and the windows of the pawnbrokers were filled with +the relics of long voyages, with idols and large shells, with +savage weapons and the handiwork of remote islands.</p> + +<p>When Mark came to live in Keppel Street, most of the +brothels and many of the public houses had been eliminated +from the district, and in their place flourished various clubs +and guilds. The services in the church were crowded: there +was a long roll of communicants; the civilization of the city +of God was visible in this Chatsea slum. One or two of the +lay helpers used to horrify Mark with stories of early days +there, and when he seemed inclined to regret that he had +arrived so late upon the scene, they used to tease him about +his missionary spirit.</p> + +<p>"If he can't reform the people," said Cartwright, one of +the lay helpers, a tall thin young man with a long nose and +a pleasant smile, "he still has us to reform."</p> + +<p>"Come along, Mark Anthony," said Warrender, another +lay helper, who after working for seven years among the +poor had at last been charily accepted by the Bishop for +ordination. "Come along. Why don't you try your hand on us?"</p> + +<p>"You people seem to think," said Mark, "that I've got a +mania for reforming. I don't mean that I should like to see +St. Agnes' where it was merely for my own personal amusement. +The only thing I'm sorry about is that I didn't actually +see the work being done."</p> + +<p>Father Rowley came in at this moment, and everybody +shouted that Mark was going to preach a sermon.</p> + +<p>"Splendid," said the Missioner whose voice when not +moved by emotion was rich in a natural unction that +encouraged everyone round to suppose he was being successfully +humorous, such a savour did it add to the most +innutritious chaff. Those who were privileged to share his +ordinary life never ceased to wonder how in the pulpit or +in the confessional or at prayer this unction was replaced +by a remote beauty of tone, a plangent and thrilling compassion +that played upon the hearts of all who heard him.</p> + +<p>"Now really, Father Rowley," Mark protested. "Do I +preach a great deal? I'm always being chaffed by Cartwright +and Warrender about an alleged mania for reforming people, +which only exists in their imagination."</p> + +<p>Indeed Mark had long ago grown out of the desire to +reform or to convert anybody, although had he wished to +keep his hand in, he could have had plenty of practice among +the guests of the Mission House. Nobody had ever succeeded +in laying down the exact number of casual visitors +that could be accommodated therein. However full it +appeared, there was always room for one more. Taking an +average, day in, day out through the year, one might fairly +say that there were always eight or nine casual guests in +addition to the eight or nine permanent residents, of whom +Mark was soon glad to be able to count himself one. The +company was sufficiently mixed to have been offered as a +proof to the sceptical that there was something after all in +simple Christianity. There would usually be a couple of +prefects from Silchester, one or two 'Varsity men, two or +three bluejackets or marines, an odd soldier or so, a naval +officer perhaps, a stray priest sometimes, an earnest seeker +after Christian example often, and often a drunkard who +had been dumped down at the door of St. Agnes' Mission +House in the hope that where everybody else had failed +Father Rowley might succeed. Then there were the tramps, +some who had heard of a comfortable night's lodging, some +who came whining and cringing with a pretence of religion. +This last class was discouraged as much as possible, for one +of the first rules of the Mission House was to show no favour +to any man who claimed to be religious, it being Father +Rowley's chief dread to make anybody's religion a paying +concern. Sometimes a jailbird just released from prison +would find in the Mission House an opportunity to recover +his self-respect. But whoever the guest was, soldier, sailor, +tinker, tailor, apothecary, ploughboy, or thief, he was judged +at the Mission House as a man. Some of the visitors repaid +their host by theft or fraud; but when they did, nobody +uttered proverbs or platitudes about mistaken kindness. If +one lame dog bit the hand that was helping him over the +stile, the next dog that came limping along was helped over +just as freely.</p> + +<p>"What right has one miserable mortal to be disillusioned +by another miserable mortal?" Father Rowley demanded. +"Our dear Lord when he was nailed to the cross said 'Father, +forgive them, for they know not what they do.' He did not +say, 'I am fed up with these people I have come down from +Heaven to save. I've had enough of it. Send an angel with +a pair of pincers to pull out these nails.'"</p> + +<p>If the Missioner's patience ever failed, it was when he had +to deal with High Church young men who made pilgrimages +to St. Agnes' because they had heard that this or that service +was conducted there with a finer relish of Romanism than +anywhere else at the moment in England. On one occasion +a pietistic young creature, who brought with him his own +lace cotta but forgot to bring his nightshirt, begged to be +allowed the joy of serving Father Rowley at early Mass next +morning. When they came back and were sitting round the +breakfast table, this young man simpered in a ladylike voice:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Father, couldn't you keep your fingers closed when +you give the <i>Dominus vobiscum</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Et cum spiritu tuo," shouted Father Rowley. "I can +keep my fingers closed when I box your ears."</p> + +<p>And he proved it.</p> + +<p>It was a real box on the ears, so hard a blow that the +ladylike young man burst into tears to the great indignation +of a Chief Petty Officer staying in the Mission House, who +declared that he was half in a mind to catch the young +swab such a snitch on the conk as really would give him +something to blubber about. Father Rowley evidently had +no remorse for his violence, and the young man went away +that afternoon saying how sorry he was that the legend of +the good work being done at St. Agnes' had been so much +exaggerated.</p> + +<p>Mark wrote an account of this incident, which had given +him intense pleasure, to Mr. Ogilvie. Perhaps the Rector +was afraid that Mark in his ambition to avoid "churchiness" +was inclining toward the opposite extreme; or perhaps, +charitable and saintly man though he was, he felt a pang of +jealousy at Mark's unbounded admiration of his new friend; +or perhaps it was merely that the east wind was blowing more +sharply than usual that morning over the wold into the +Rectory garden. Whatever the cause, his answering letter +made Mark feel that the Rector did not appreciate Father +Rowley as thoroughly as he ought.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Rectory,</p> + +<p>Wych-on-the-Wold.</p> + +<p>Oxon.</p> + +<p>Dec. 1.</p> + +<p>My dear Mark,</p> + +<p>I was glad to get your long and amusing letter of last +week. I am delighted to think that as the months go by +you are finding work among the poor more and more congenial. +I would not for the world suggest your coming back +here for Christmas after what you tell me of the amount of +extra work it will entail for everybody in the Mission House; +at the same time it would be useless to pretend that we shan't +all be disappointed not to see you until the New Year.</p> + +<p>On reading through your last letter again I feel just a +little worried lest, in the pleasure you derive from Father +Rowley's treatment of what was no doubt a very irritating +young man, you may be inclined to go to the opposite extreme +and be too ready to laugh at real piety when it is not +accompanied by geniality and good fellowship, or by an +obvious zeal for good works. I know you will acquit me +of any desire to defend extreme "churchiness," and I have +no doubt you will remember one or two occasions in the +past when I was rather afraid that you were tending that +way yourself. I am not in the least criticizing Father +Rowley's method of dealing with it, but I am a trifle uneasy +at the inordinate delight it seems to have afforded you. Of +course, it is intolerable for any young man serving a priest +at Mass to watch his fingers all the time, but I don't think +you have any right to assume because on this occasion the +young man showed himself so sensitive to mere externals +that he is always aware only of externals. Unfortunately +a very great deal of true and fervid piety exists under this +apparent passion for externals. Remember that the ordinary +criticism by the man in the street of Catholic ceremonies +and of Catholic methods of worship involves us all in this +condemnation. I suppose that you would consider yourself +justified, should the circumstances permit (which in this +case of course they do not), in protesting against a priest's +not taking the Eastward Position when he said Mass. I +was talking to Colonel Fraser the other day, and he was +telling me how much he had enjoyed the ministrations of +the Reverend Archibald Tait, the Leicestershire cricketer, +who throughout the "second service" never once turned his +back on the congregation, and, so far as I could gather from +the Colonel's description, conducted this "second service" +very much as a conjuror performs his tricks. When I ventured +to argue with the Colonel, he said to me: "That is +the worst of you High Churchmen, you make the ritual +more important than the Communion itself." All human +judgments, my dear Mark, are relative, and I have no doubt +that this unpleasant young man (who, as I have already said, +was no doubt justly punished by Father Rowley) may have +felt the same kind of feeling in a different degree that I +should feel if I assisted at the jugglery of the Reverend +Archibald Tait. At any rate you, my dear boy, are bound +to credit this young man with as much sincerity as yourself, +otherwise you commit a sin against charity. You must acquire +at least as much toleration for the Ritualist as I am +glad to notice you are acquiring for the thief. When you +are a priest yourself, and in a comparatively short time you +will be a priest, I do hope you won't, without his experience, +try to imitate Father Rowley too closely in his summary +treatment of what I have already I hope made myself quite +clear in believing to be in this case a most insufferable young +man. Don't misunderstand this letter. I have such great +hopes of you in the stormy days to come, and the stormy +days are coming, that I should feel I was wrong if I didn't +warn you of your attitude towards the merest trifles, for I +shall always judge you and your conduct by standards that +I should be very cautious of setting for most of my penitents.</p> + +<p>Your ever affectionate,</p> + +<p>Stephen Ogilvie.</p> + + +<p>My mother and Miriam send you much love. We miss you +greatly at Wych. Esther seems happy in her convent and +will soon be clothed as a novice.</p></div> + +<p>When Mark read this letter, he was prompt to admit himself +in the wrong; but he could not bear the least implied +criticism of Father Rowley.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>St. Agnes' House,</p> + +<p>Keppel Street,</p> + +<p>Chatsea.</p> + +<p>Dec. 3.</p> + +<p>My dear Mr. Ogilvie,</p> + +<p>I'm afraid I must have expressed myself very badly in my +last letter if I gave you the least idea that Father Rowley +was not always charity personified. He had probably come +to the conclusion that the young man was not much good +and no doubt he deliberately made it impossible for him to +stay on at the Mission House. We do get an awful lot of +mere loafers here; I don't suppose that anybody who keeps +open house can avoid getting them. After all, if the young +man had been worth anything he would have realized that +he had made a fool of himself and by the way he took his +snubbing have re-established himself. What he actually did +was to sulk and clear out with a sneer at the work done here. +I'm sorry I gave you the impression that I was triumphing +so tremendously over his discomfiture. By writing about it +I probably made the incident appear much more important +than it really was. I've no doubt I did triumph a little, and +I'm afraid I shall never be able not to feel rather glad when +a fellow like that is put in his place. I am not for a moment +going to try to argue that you can carry Christian charity +too far. The more one meditates on the words, and actions +of Our Lord, the more one grasps how impossible it is to +carry charity too far. All the same, one owes as much +charity to Father Rowley as to the young man. This sounds +now I have written it down as if I were getting in a hit at +you, and that is the worst of writing letters to justify oneself. +What I am trying to say is that if I were to have +taken up arms for the young man and supposed him to be +ill-used or misjudged I should be criticizing Father Rowley. +I think that perhaps you don't quite realize what a saint he +is in every way. This is my fault, no doubt, because in my +letters to you I have always emphasized anything that would +bring into relief his personality. I expect that I've been too +much concerned to draw a picture of him as a man, in doing +which I've perhaps been unsuccessful in giving you a picture +of him as a priest. It's always difficult to talk or write about +one's intimate religious feelings, and you've been the only +person to whom I ever have been able to talk about them. +However much I admire and revere Father Rowley I doubt +if I could talk or write to him about myself as I do to you.</p> + +<p>Until I came here I don't think I ever quite realized all +that the Blessed Sacrament means. I had accepted the Sacrifice +of the Mass as one accepts so much in our creed, +without grasping its full implication. If anybody were to +have put me through a catechism about the dogma I should +have answered with theological exactitude, without any +appearance of misapprehending the meaning of it; but it was +not until I came here that its practical reality—I don't know +if I'm expressing myself properly or not, I'm pretty sure +I'm not; I don't mean practical application and I don't mean +any kind of addition to my faith; perhaps what I mean is +that I've learnt to grasp the mystery of the Mass outside +myself, outside that is to say my own devotion, my own +awe, as a practical fact alive to these people here. Sometimes +when I go to Mass I feel as people who watched Our +Lord with His disciples and followers must have felt. I +feel like one of those people who ran after Him and asked +Him what they could do to be saved. I feel when I look at +what has been done here as if I must go to each of these +poor people in turn and beg them to bring me to the feet of +Christ, just as I suppose on the shores of the sea of Galilee +people must have begged St. Peter or St. Andrew or St. +James or St. John to introduce them, if one can use such a +word for such an occasion. This seems to me the great work +that Father Rowley has effected in this parish. I have only +had one rather shy talk with him about religion, and in the +course of it I said something in praise of what his personality +had effected.</p> + +<p>"My personality has effected nothing," he answered. +"Everything here is effected by the Blessed Sacrament."</p> + +<p>That is why he surely has the right without any consideration +for the dignity of churchy young men to box their +ears if they question his outward respect for the Blessed +Sacrament. Even Our Lord found it necessary at least on +one occasion to chase the buyers and sellers out of the +Temple, and though it is not recorded that He boxed the +ears of any Pharisee, it seems to me quite permissible to +believe that He did! He lashed them with scorn anyway.</p> + +<p>To come back to Father Rowley, you know the great cry +of the so-called Evangelical party "Jesus only"? Well, +Father Rowley has really managed to make out of what +was becoming a sort of ecclesiastical party cry something +that really is evangelical and at the same time Catholic. +These people are taught to make the Blessed Sacrament the +central fact of their lives in a way that I venture to say no +Welsh revivalist or Salvation Army captain has ever made +Our Lord the central fact in the lives of his converts, because +with the Blessed Sacrament continually before them, +Which is Our Lord Jesus Christ, their conversion endures. +I could fill a book with stories of the wonderful behaviour +of these poor souls. The temptation is to say of a man like +Father Rowley that he has such a natural spring of human +charity flowing from his heart that by offering to the world +a Christlike example he converts his flock. Certainly he does +give a Christlike example and undoubtedly that must have a +great influence on his people; but he does not believe, and +I don't believe, that a Christlike example is of any use without +Christ, and he gives them Christ. Even the Bishop of +Silchester had to admit the other day that Vespers of the +Blessed Sacrament as held at St. Agnes' is a perfectly scriptural +service. Father Rowley makes of the Blessed Sacrament +Christ Himself, so that the poor people may flock +round Him. He does not go round arguing with them, persuading +them, but in the crises of their lives, as the answer +to every question, as the solution of every difficulty and +doubt, as the consolation in every sorrow, he offers them +the Blessed Sacrament. All his prayers (and he makes a +great use of extempore prayer, much to the annoyance of +the Bishop, who considers it ungrammatical), all his sermons, +all his actions revolve round that one great fact. +"Jesus Christ is what you need," he says, "and Jesus Christ +is here in your church, here upon your altar."</p> + +<p>You can't go into the little church without finding fifty +people praying before the Blessed Sacrament. The other +day when the "King Harry" was sunk by the "Trafalgar," +the people here subscribed I forget how many pounds for +the widows and children of the bluejackets and marines of +the Mission who were drowned, and when it was finished and +the subscription list was closed, they subscribed all over again +to erect an altar at which to say Masses for the dead. And +the old women living in Father Rowley's free houses that +were once brothels gave up their summer outing so that the +money spent on them might be added to the fund. When +the Bishop of Silchester came here last week for Confirmation +he asked Father Rowley what that altar was.</p> + +<p>"That is the ugliest thing I've ever seen," he said. But +when Father Rowley told him about the poor people and +the old women who had no money of their own, he said: +"That is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."</p> + +<p>I am beginning to write as if it was necessary to convince +you of the necessity of making the Blessed Sacrament the +central feature of the religious life to-day and for ever until +the end of the world. But, I know you won't think I'm +doing anything of the kind, for really I am only trying to +show you how much my faith has been strengthened and +how much my outlook has deepened and how much more +than ever I long to be a priest to be able to give poor people +Jesus Christ in the Blessed Sacrament.</p> + +<p>Your ever affectionate</p> + +<p>Mark.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII" />CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>THE DRUNKEN PRIEST</h3> + + +<p>Gradually, Mark found to his pleasure and his pride +that he was becoming, if not indispensable to Father +Rowley (the Missioner found no human being indispensable) +at any rate quite evidently useful. Perhaps Father Rowley +though that in allowing himself to rely considerably upon +Mark's secretarial talent he was indulging himself in a +luxury to which he was not entitled. That was Father +Rowley's way. The moment he discovered himself enjoying +anything too much, whether it was a cigar or a secretary, he +cut himself off from it, and this not in any spirit of mortification +for mortification's sake, but because he dreaded the +possibility of putting the slightest drag upon his freedom +to criticize others. He had no doubt at all in his own mind +that he was perfectly justified in making use of Mark's intelligence +and energy. But in a place like the Mission House, +where everybody from lay helper to casual guest was supposed +to stand on his own feet, the Missioner himself felt +that he must offer an example of independence.</p> + +<p>"You're spoiling me, Mark Anthony," he said one day. +"There's nothing for me to do this evening."</p> + +<p>"I know," Mark agreed contentedly. "I want to give you +a rest for once."</p> + +<p>"Rest?" the priest echoed. "You don't seriously expect a +fat man like me to sit down in an armchair and rest, do you? +Besides, you've got your own reading to do, and you didn't +come to Chatsea as my punkah walla."</p> + +<p>Mark insisted that he was getting along in his own way +quite fast enough, and that he had plenty of time on his hands +to keep Father Rowley's correspondence in some kind of +order.</p> + +<p>"All these other people have any amount to do," said Mark. +"Cartwright has his boys every evening and Warrender has +his men."</p> + +<p>"And Mark Anthony has nothing but a fat, poverty-stricken, +slothful mission priest," Father Rowley gurgled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and you're more trouble than all the rest put together. +Look here, I've written to the Bishop's chaplain +about that confirmation; I explained why we wanted to hold +a special confirmation for these two boys we are emigrating, +and he has written back to say that the Bishop has no objection +to a special confirmation's being held by the Bishop of +Matabeleland when he comes to stay here next week. At the +same time, he says the Bishop doesn't want it to become a +precedent."</p> + +<p>"No. I can quite understand that," Father Rowley +chuckled. "Bishops are haunted by the creation of precedents. +A precedent in the life of a bishop is like an illegitimate +child in the life of a respectable churchwarden. No, +the only thing I fear is that if I devour all your spare time +you won't get quite what you wanted to get by coming to live +with us."</p> + +<p>He laid a fat hand on Mark's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Please don't bother about me," said Mark. "I get all I +want and more than I expected if I can be of the least use +to you. I know I'm rather disappointing you by not behaving +like half the people who come down here and want to +get up a concert on Monday, a dance on Tuesday, a conjuring +entertainment on Wednesday, a street procession on Thursday, +a day of intercession on Friday, and an amateur dramatic +entertainment on Saturday, not to mention acting as ceremonarius +on Sunday. I know you'd like me to propose all +sorts of energetic diversions, so that you could have the +pleasure of assuring me that I was only proposing them to +gratify my own vanity, which of course would be perfectly +true. Luckily I'm of a retiring disposition, and I don't want +to do anything to help the ten thousand benighted parishioners +of Saint Agnes', except indirectly by striving to help +in my own feeble way the man who really is helping them. +Now don't throw that inkpot at me, because the room's quite +dirty enough already, and as I've made you sit still for five +minutes I've achieved something this evening that mighty few +people have achieved in Keppel Street. I believe the only +time you really rest is in the confessional box."</p> + +<p>"Mark Anthony, Mark Anthony," said the priest, "you +talk a great deal too much. Come along now, it's bedtime."</p> + +<p>One of the rules of the Mission House was that every +inmate should be in bed by ten o'clock and all lights out by +a quarter past. The day began with Mass at seven o'clock +at which everybody was expected to be present; and from +that time onward everybody was so fully occupied that it +was essential to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Guests who +came down for a night or two were often apt to forget +how much the regular workers had to do and what a tax +it put upon the willing servants to manage a house of which +nobody could say ten minutes before a meal how many +would sit down to it, nor even until lights out for how many +people beds must be made. In case any guest should forget +this rule by coming back after ten o'clock, Father Rowley +made a point of having the front door bell to ring in his +bedroom, so that he might get out of bed at any hour of the +night and admit the loiterer. Guests were warned what +would be the effect of their lack of consideration, and it was +seldom that Father Rowley was disturbed.</p> + +<p>Among the guests there was one class of which a representative +was usually to be found at the Mission House. +This was the drunken clergyman, which sounds as if there +was at this date a high proportion of drunken clergymen in +the Church of England; but which means that when one did +come to St. Agnes' he usually stayed for a long time, because +he would in most cases have been sent there when everybody +else had despaired of him to see what Father Rowley could +effect.</p> + +<p>About the time when Mark was beginning to be recognized +as Father Rowley's personal vassal, it happened that +the Reverend George Edward Mousley who had been +handed on from diocese to diocese during the last five years +had lately reached the Mission House. For more than two +months now he had spent his time inconspicuously reading +in his own room, and so well had he behaved, so humbly +had he presented himself to the notice of his fellow guests, +that Father Rowley was moved one afternoon to dictate a +letter about him to Mark, who felt that the Missioner by +taking him so far into his confidence had surrendered to his +pertinacity and that thenceforth he might consider himself +established as his private secretary.</p> + +<p>"The letter is to the Lord Bishop Suffragan of Warwick, +St. Peter's Rectory, Warwick," Father Rowley began. "My +dear Bishop of Warwick, I have now had poor Mousley here +for two months. It is not a long time in which to effect a +lasting reformation of one who has fallen so often and so +grievously, but I think you know me well enough not to +accuse me of being too sanguine about drunken priests. I +have had too many of them here for that. In his case however +I do feel justified in asking you to agree with me in +letting him have an opportunity to regain the respect due to +himself and the reverence due to his priesthood by being +allowed once more to the altar. I should not dream of allowing +him to officiate without your permission, because his sad +history has been so much a personal burden to yourself. I'm +afraid that after the many disappointments he has inflicted +upon you, you will be doubtful of my judgment. Yet I do +think that the critical moment has arrived when by surprising +him thus we might clinch the matter of his future behaviour +once and for all. His conduct here has been so humble and +patient and in every way exemplary that my heart bleeds +for him. Therefore, my dear Bishop of Warwick, I hope +you will agree to what I firmly trust will be the completion +of his spiritual cure. I am writing to you quite impersonally +and informally, as you see, so that in replying to me you will +not be involving yourself in the affairs of another diocese. +You will, of course, put me down as much a Jesuit as ever +in writing to you like this, but you will equally, I know, +believe me to be, Yours ever affectionately in Our Blessed +Lord.</p> + +<p>"And I'll sign it as soon as you can type it out," Father +Rowley wound up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I do hope he will agree," Mark exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"He will," the Missioner prophesied. "He will because +he is a wise and tender and godly man and therefore will +never be more than a Bishop Suffragan as long as he lives. +Mark!"</p> + +<p>Mark looked up at the severity of the tone.</p> + +<p>"Mark! Correct me when I fall into the habit of sneering +at the episcopate."</p> + +<p>That night Father Rowley was attending a large temperance +demonstration in the Town Hall for the purpose of +securing if possible a smaller proportion of public houses +than one for every eighty of the population, which was the +average for Chatsea. The meeting lasted until nearly ten +o'clock; and it had already struck the hour when Father +Rowley with Mark and two or three others got back to +Keppel Street. There was nothing Father Rowley disliked so +much as arriving home himself after ten, and he hurried +up to his room without inquiring if everybody was in.</p> + +<p>Mark's window looked out on Keppel Street; and the +May night being warm and his head aching from the effects +of the meeting, he sat for nearly an hour at the open window +gazing down at the passers by. There was not much +to see, nothing more indeed than couples wandering home, +a bluejacket or two, an occasional cat, and a few women +carrying jugs of beer. By eleven o'clock even this slight +traffic had ceased, and there was nothing down the silent +street except a salt wind from the harbour that roused a +memory of the beach at Nancepean years ago when he had +sat there watching the glow-worm and decided to be a lighthouse-keeper +keeping his lamps bright for mariners homeward +bound. It was of streets like Keppel Street that they +would have dreamed, with the Stag Light winking to port, +and the west wind blowing strong astern. What a lighthouse-keeper +Father Rowley was! How except by the grace of +God could one explain such goodness as his? Fashions in +saintliness might change, but there was one kind of saint +that always and for every creed spoke plainly of God's +existence, such saints as St. Francis of Assisi or St. Anthony +of Padua, who were manifestly the heirs of Christ. With +what a tender cynicism Our Lord had called St. Peter to be +the foundation stone of His Church, with what a sorrowful +foreboding of the failure of Christianity. Such a choice +appeared as the expression of God's will not to be let down +again as He was let down by Adam. Jesus Christ, conscious +at the moment of what He must shortly suffer at the hands +of mankind, must have been equally conscious of the failure +of Christianity two thousand years beyond His Agony and +Bloody Sweat and Crucifixion. Why, within a short time +after His life on earth it was necessary for that light from +heaven to shine round about Saul on the Damascus road, +because already scoffers, while the disciples were still alive, +may have been talking about the failure of Christianity. It +must have been another of God's self-imposed limitations +that He did not give to St. John that capacity of St. Paul +for organization which might have made practicable the +Christianity of the master Who loved him. <i>Woman, behold +thy son! Behold thy mother!</i> That dying charge showed +that Our Lord considered John the most Christlike of His +disciples, and he remained the most Christlike man until +twelve hundred years later St. Francis was born at Assisi. +St. Paul, St. Augustine, St. Dominic, if Christianity could +only produce mighty individualists of Faith like them, it +could scarcely have endured as it had endured. <i>And now +abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of +these is charity.</i> There was something almost wistful in +those words coming from the mouth of St. Paul. It was +scarcely conceivable that St. John or St. Francis could ever +have said that; it would scarcely have struck either that the +three virtues were separable.</p> + +<p>Keppel Street was empty now. Mark's headache had been +blown away by the night wind with his memories and the +incoherent thoughts which had gathered round the contemplation +of Father Rowley's character. He was just going to +draw away from the window and undress when he caught +sight of a figure tacking from one pavement to the other up +Keppel Street. Mark watched its progress, amused at the +extraordinary amount of trouble it was giving itself, until +one tack was brought to a sharp conclusion by a lamp-post +to which the figure clung long enough to be recognized as +that of the Reverend George Edward Mousley, who had been +tacking like this to make the harbour of the Mission House. +Mark, remembering the letter which had been written to the +Bishop of Warwick, wondered if he could not at any rate +for to-night spare Father Rowley the disappointment of +knowing that his plea for re-instatement was already answered +by the drunken priest himself. He must make up +his mind quickly, because even with the zigzag course +Mousley was taking he would soon be ringing the bell of +the Mission House, which meant that Father Rowley would +be woken up and go down to let him in. Of course, he +would have to know all about it in the morning, but to-night +when he had gone to bed tired and full of hope for temperance +in general and the reformation of Mousley in particular +it was surely right to let him sleep in ignorance. +Mark decided to take it upon himself to break the rules of +the house, to open the door to Mousley, and if possible to get +him upstairs to bed quietly. He went down with a lighted +candle, crept across the gymnasium, and opened the door. +Mousley was still tacking from pavement to pavement and +making very little headway against a strong current of +drink. Mark thought he had better go out and offer his +services as pilot, because Mousley was beginning to sing an +extraordinary song in which the tune and the words of <i>Good-bye, +Dolly, I must leave you</i>, had got mixed up with <i>O happy +band of pilgrims</i>.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Mr. Mousley, you mustn't sing now," said +Mark taking hold of the arm with which the drunkard was +trying to beat time. "It's after eleven o'clock, and you're +just outside the Mission House."</p> + +<p>"I've been just outside the Mission House for an hour +and three quarters, old chap," said Mr. Mousley solemnly. +"Most incompatible thing I've ever known. I got back here +at a quarter past nine, and I was just going to walk in when +the house took two paces to the rear, and I've been walking +after it the whole evening. Most incompatible thing I've +ever known. Most incompatible thing that's ever happened +to me in my life, Lidderdale. If I were a superstitious man, +which I'm not, I should say the house was bewitched. If I +had a moment to spare, I should sit down at once and write +an account of my most incompatible experience to the Society +of Psychical Research, if I were a superstitious man, which +I'm not. Yes. . . ."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mousley tried to focus his glassy eyes upon the arcana +of spiritualism, rocking ambiguously the while upon the kerb. +Mark murmured something more about the need for going +in quietly.</p> + +<p>"It's very kind of you to come out and talk to me like +this," the drunken priest went on. "But what you ought to +have done was to have kept hold of the house for a minute +or two so as to give me time to get in quietly. Now we +shall probably both be out here all night trying to get in +quietly. It's impossible to keep warm by this lamp-post. +Most inadequate heating arrangement. It is a lamp-post, +isn't it? Yes, I thought it was. I had a fleeting impression +that it was my bedroom candle, but I see now that I was mistaken, +I see now perfectly clearly that it is a lamp-post, if +not two. Of course, that may account for my not being +able to get into the Mission House. I was trying to decide +which front door I should go in by, and while I was waiting +I think I must have gone in by the wrong one, for I hit my +nose a most severe blow on the nose. One has to remember +to be very careful with front doors. Of course, if it was +my own house I should have used a latch-key instanter; for +I inevitably, I mean invariably, carry a latch-key about with +me and when it won't open my front door I use it to wind +my watch. You know, it's one of those small keys you can +wind up watches with, if you know the kind of key I mean. +I'd draw you a picture of it if I had a pencil, but I haven't +got a pencil."</p> + +<p>"Now don't stay talking here," Mark urged. "Come along +back, and do try to come quietly. I keep telling you it's after +eleven o'clock, and you know Father Rowley likes everybody +to be in by ten."</p> + +<p>"That's what I've been saying to myself the whole evening," +said Mr. Mousley. "Only what happened, you see, +was that I met the son of a man who used to know my +father, a very nice fellow indeed, a very intellectual fellow. +I never remember spending a more intellectual evening in my +life. A feast of reason and a flowing bowl, I mean soul, +s-o-u-l, not b-o-u-l. Did I say bowl? Soul. . . . Soul. . . ."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Mark. "But if you've had such a jolly +evening, come in now and don't make a noise."</p> + +<p>"I'll come in whenever you like," Mr. Mousley offered. +"I'm at your disposition entirely. The only request I have +to make is that you will guarantee that the house stays where +it was built. It's all very fine for an ordinary house to behave +like this, but when a mission house behaves like this I +call it disgraceful. I don't know what I've done to the house +that it should conceive such a dislike to me. I say, Lidderdale, +have they been taking up the drains or something in +this street? Because I distinctly had an impression just then +that I put my foot into a hole."</p> + +<p>"The street's perfectly all right," said Mark. "Nothing +has been done to it."</p> + +<p>"There's no reason why they shouldn't take up the drains +if they want to, I'm not complaining. Drains have to be +taken up and I should be the last man to complain; but I +merely asked a question, and I'm convinced that they have +been taking up the drains. Yes, I've had a very intellectual +evening. My head's whirling with philosophy. We've talked +about everything. My friend talked a good deal about +Buddhism. And I made rather a good joke about Confucius +being so confusing, at which I laughed inordinately. Inordinately, +Lidderdale. I've had a very keen sense of humour +ever since I was a baby. I say, Lidderdale, you certainly +know your way about this street. I'm very much obliged to +me for meeting you. I shall get to know the street in time. +You see, my object was to get beyond the house, because +I said to myself 'the house is in Keppel Street, it can dodge +about <i>in</i> Keppel Street, but it can't be in any other street,' +so I thought that if I could dodge it into the corner of Keppel +Street—you follow what I mean? I may be talking a bit +above your head, we've been talking philosophy all the evening, +but if you concentrate you'll follow my meaning."</p> + +<p>"Here we are," said Mark, for by this time he had persuaded +Mr. Mousley to put his foot upon the step of the +front door.</p> + +<p>"You managed the house very well," said the clergyman. +"It's extraordinary how a house will take to some people and +not to others. Now I can do anything I like with dogs, and +you can do anything you like with houses. But it's no good +patting or stroking a house. You've got to manage a house +quite differently to that. You've got to keep a house's accounts. +You haven't got to keep a dog's accounts."</p> + +<p>They were in the gymnasium by now, which by the light +of Mark's small candle loomed as vast as a church.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk as you go upstairs," Mark admonished.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that a dog I see there?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, no," said Mark. "It's the horse. Come along."</p> + +<p>"A horse?" Mousley echoed. "Well, I can manage horses +too. Come here, Dobbin. If I'd known we were going to +meet a horse I should have brought back some sugar with +me. I suppose it's too late to go back and buy some sugar +now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Mark impatiently. "Much too late. Come +along."</p> + +<p>"If I had a piece of sugar he'd follow us upstairs. You'll +find a horse will go anywhere after a piece of sugar. It is a +horse, isn't it? Not a donkey? Because if it was a donkey +he would want a thistle, and I don't know where I can get +a thistle at this time of night. I say, did you prod me in the +stomach then with anything?" asked Mr. Mousley severely.</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Mark. "Come along, it was the parallel +bars."</p> + +<p>"I've not been near any bars to-night, and if you are suggesting +that I've been in bars you're making an insinuation +which I very much resent, an insinuation which I resent most +bitterly, an insinuation which I should not allow anybody to +make without first pointing out that it was an insinuation."</p> + +<p>"Do come down off that ladder," Mark said.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Lidderdale. I was under the impression +for the moment that I was going upstairs. I have really +been so confused by Confucius and by the extraordinary +behaviour of the house to-night, recoiling from me as it did, +that for the moment I was under the impression that I was +going upstairs."</p> + +<p>At this moment Mr. Mousley fell from the ladder, luckily +on one of the gymnasium mats.</p> + +<p>"I do think it's a most ridiculous habit," he said, "not to +place a doormat in what I might describe as a suitable cavity. +The number of times in my life that I've fallen over doormats +simply because people will not take the trouble to make the +necessary depression in the floor with which to contain such +a useful domestic receptacle you would scarcely believe. I +must have fallen over thousands of doormats in my life," he +shouted at the top of his voice.</p> + +<p>"You'll wake everybody up in the house," Mark exclaimed +in an agony. "For heaven's sake keep quiet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we are in the house, are we?" said Mr. Mousley. +"I'm very much relieved to hear you say that, Lidderdale. +For a brief moment, I don't know why, I was almost as +confused as Confucius as to where we were."</p> + +<p>At this moment, candle in hand, and in a white flannel +nightgown looking larger than ever, Father Rowley appeared +in the gallery above and leaning over demanded who was +there.</p> + +<p>"Is that Father Rowley?" Mr. Mousley inquired with +intense courtesy. "Or do my eyes deceive me? You'll +excuse me from replying to your apparently simple question, +Father Rowley, but I have met such a number of people +to-night including the son of a man who used to know my +father that I really don't know who <i>is</i> there, although I'm +inclined to think that <i>I</i> am here. But I've had a series of +such a remarkable series of adventures to-night that I should +like your advice about them. I've been spending a very intellectual +evening, Father Rowley."</p> + +<p>"Go to bed," said the mission priest severely. "I'll speak +to you in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Father Rowley isn't annoyed with me, is he?" Mr. +Mousley asked.</p> + +<p>"I think he's rather annoyed at your being so late," said +Mark.</p> + +<p>"Late for what?"</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Mark, down there?" asked the Missioner.</p> + +<p>"I'm lighting Mr. Mousley across the gymnasium," Mark +explained. "I think I'd better take him up to his room."</p> + +<p>"If your young friend is as clever at managing rooms as +he is at managing houses we shall get on splendidly, Father +Rowley. I have perfect confidence in his manner with rooms. +He soothed this house in the most remarkable way. It was +jumping about like a pea in a pod till he caught hold of the +reins."</p> + +<p>"Mark, go to bed. I will see Mr. Mousley to his room."</p> + +<p>"Several years ago," said the drunken priest. "I went +with an old friend to see Miss Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth. +The resemblance between Father Rowley and Miss Ellen +Terry is very remarkable. Good-night, Lidderdale, I am +perfectly comfortable on this mat. Good-night."</p> + +<p>In the gallery above Mark, who had not dared to disobey +Father Rowley's orders, asked him what was to be done to +get Mr. Mousley to bed.</p> + +<p>"Go and wake Cartwright and Warrender to help me to +get him upstairs," the Missioner commanded.</p> + +<p>"I can help you. . . ." Mark began.</p> + +<p>"Do what I say," said the Missioner curtly.</p> + +<p>In the morning Father Rowley sent for Mark to give his +account of what had happened the night before, and when +Mark had finished his tale, the priest sat for a while in +silence.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to send him away?" Mark asked.</p> + +<p>"Send him away?" Father Rowley repeated. "Where +would I send him? If he can't keep off drink in this house +and in these surroundings where else will he keep off drink? +No, I'm only amused at my optimism."</p> + +<p>There was a knock on the door.</p> + +<p>"I expect that is Mr. Mousley," said Mark. "I'll leave +you with him."</p> + +<p>"No, don't go away," said the Missioner. "If Mousley +didn't mind your seeing him as he was last night, there's no +reason why this morning he should mind your hearing my +comments upon his behaviour."</p> + +<p>The tap on the door was repeated.</p> + +<p>"Come in, come in, Mousley, and take a seat."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mousley walked timidly across the room and sat on +the very edge of the chair offered him by Father Rowley. +He was a quiet, rather drab little man, the kind of little man +who always loses his seat in a railway carriage and who +always gets pushed further up in an omnibus, one of life's +pawns. The presence of Mark did not seem to affect him, +for no sooner was he seated than he began to apologize with +suspicious rapidity, as if by now his apologies had been reduced +to a formula.</p> + +<p>"I really must apologize, Father Rowley, for my lateness +last night and for coming in, I fear, slightly the worse for +liquor. The fact is I had a little headache and went to the +chemist for a pick-me-up, on top of which I met an old college +friend, and though I don't think I had more than two +glasses of beer I may have had three. They didn't seem to +go very well with the pick-me-up. I assure you—"</p> + +<p>"Stop," said Father Rowley. "The only assurance of any +value to me will be your behaviour in the future."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then I'm not to leave this morning?" Mr. Mousley +gasped with open mouth.</p> + +<p>"Where would you go if you left here?"</p> + +<p>"Well, to tell you the truth," Mr. Mousley admitted, "I +have been rather worried over that little problem ever since +I woke up this morning. I scarcely expected that you would +tolerate my presence any longer in this house. You will +excuse me, Father Rowley, but I am rather overwhelmed +for the moment by your kindness. I scarcely know how to +express what I feel. I have usually found people so very +impatient of my weakness. Do you seriously mean I needn't +go away this morning?"</p> + +<p>"You have already been sufficiently punished, I hope," +said the Missioner, "by the humiliations you have inflicted +on yourself both outside and inside this house."</p> + +<p>"My thoughts are always humiliating," said Mr. Mousley. +"I think perhaps that nowadays these humiliating thoughts +are my chief temptation to drink. Since I have been here +and shared in your hospitality I have felt more sharply +than ever my disgrace. I have several times been on the +point of asking you to let me be given some kind of work, +but I have always been too much ashamed when it came to +the point to express my aspirations in words."</p> + +<p>"Only yesterday afternoon," said Father Rowley, "I wrote +to the Bishop of Warwick, who has continued to interest himself +in you notwithstanding the many occasions you have +disappointed him, yes, I wrote to the Bishop of Warwick to +say that since you came to St. Agnes' your behaviour had +justified my suggesting that you should once again be allowed +to say Mass."</p> + +<p>"You wrote that yesterday afternoon?" Mr. Mousley exclaimed. +"And the instant afterwards I went out and got +drunk?"</p> + +<p>"You mean you took a pick-me-up and two glasses of +beer," corrected Father Rowley.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no, it wasn't a pick-me-up. I went out and got +drunk on brandy quite deliberately."</p> + +<p>Father Rowley looked quickly across at Mark, who hastily +left the two priests together. He divined from the Missioner's +quick glance that he was going to hear Mr. Mousley's +confession. A week later Mr. Mousley asked Mark if he +would serve at Mass the next morning.</p> + +<p>"It may seem an odd request," he said, "but inasmuch as +you have seen the depths to which I can sink, I want you +equally to see the heights to which Father Rowley has raised +me."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII" />CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>SILCHESTER COLLEGE MISSION</h3> + + +<p>It was never allowed to be forgotten at St. Agnes' that +the Mission was the Silchester College Mission; and there +were few days in the year on which it was possible to visit +the Mission House without finding there some member of +the College past or present. Every Sunday during term two +or three prefects would sit down to dinner; masters turned +up during the holidays; even the mighty Provost himself paid +occasional visits, during which he put off most of his majesty +and became as nearly human as a facetious judge. Nor did +Father Rowley allow Silchester to forget that it had a Mission. +He was not at all content with issuing a half yearly +report of progress and expenses, and he had no intention +of letting St. Agnes' exist as a subject for an occasional +school sermon or a religious tax levied on parents. From the +first moment he had put foot in Chatsea he had done everything +he could to make St. Agnes' be what it was supposed +to be—the Silchester College Mission. He was particularly +anxious that the new church should be built and beautified +with money from Silchester sources, even if he also accepted +money for this purpose from outside. Soon after Mark had +become recognized as Father Rowley's confidential secretary, +he visited Silchester for the first time in his company.</p> + +<p>It was the custom during the summer for the various +guilds and clubs connected with the parish to be entertained +in turn at the College. It had never happened that Mark had +accompanied any of these outings, which in the early days +of St. Agnes' had been regarded with dread by the College +authorities, so many flowers were picked, so much fruit was +stolen, but which now were as orderly and respectable excursions +as you could wish to see. Mark's first visit to Silchester +was on the occasion of Father Rowley's terminal +sermon in the June after he was nineteen. He found the +experience intimidating, because he was not yet old enough +to have learnt self-confidence and he had never passed +through the ordeal either of a first term at a public school +or of a first term at the University. Boys are always critical, +and at Silchester with the tradition of six hundred years +to give them a corporate self-confidence, the judgment of +outsiders is more severe than anywhere in the world, unless +it might be in the New Hebrides. Added to their critical +regard was a chilling politeness which would have made +downright insolence appear cordial in comparison. Mark felt +like Gulliver in the presence of the Houyhnms. These noble +animals, so graceful, so clean, so condescending, appalled +him. Yet he had found the Silchester men who came to +visit the Mission easy enough to get on with. No doubt they, +without their background were themselves a little shy, +although their shyness never mastered them so far as to +make them ill at ease. Here, however, they seemed as imperturbable +and unbending as the stone saints, row upon row +on the great West front of the Cathedral. Mark apprehended +more clearly than ever the powerful personality of Father +Rowley when he found that these noble young animals +accorded to him the same quality of respect that they gave +to a popular master or even to a popular athlete. The Missioner +seemed able to understand their intimate and allusive +conversation, so characteristic of a small and highly developed +society; he seemed able to chaff them at the right +moment; to take them seriously when they ought to be taken +seriously; in a word to have grasped without being a Siltonian +the secret of Silchester. He and Mark were staying +at a house which possessed super-imposed upon the Silchester +tradition a tradition of its own extending over the forty years +during which the Reverend William Jex Monkton had been +a house master. It was difficult for Mark, who had nothing +but the traditions of Haverton House for a standard to +understand how with perfect respect the boys could address +their master by his second name without prejudice to discipline. +Yet everybody in Jex's house called him Jex; and +when you looked at that delightful old gentleman himself +with his criss-cross white tie and curly white hair, you +realized how impossible it was for him to be called anything +else except Jex.</p> + +<p>For the first time since Mark, brooding upon the moonlit +quadrangle of St. Osmund's Hall, bade farewell to Oxford, +he regretted for a while his surrender of the scholarship to +Emmett. What was Emmett doing now? Had his stammer +improved in the confidence that his success must surely have +brought him? Mark made an excuse to forsake the company +of the four or five men in whose charge he had been left. He +was tired of being continually rescued from drowning in +their conversation. Their intentional courtesy galled him. +He felt like a negro chief being shown the sights of England +by a tired equerry. It was a fine summer day, and he went +down to the playing fields to watch the cricket match. He +sat down in the shade of an oak tree on the unfrequented +side, unable in the mood he was in to ask against whom the +College was playing or which side was in. Players and spectators +alike appeared unreal, a mirage of the sunlight; the +very landscape ceased to be anything more substantial than +a landscape perceived by dreamers in the clouds. The trees +and towers of Silchester, the bald hills of Berkshire on the +horizon, the cattle in the meadows, the birds in the air exasperated +Mark with his inability to put himself in the picture. +The grass beneath the oak was scattered with a treasury of +small suns minted by the leaves above, trembling patens and +silver disks that Mark set himself to count.</p> + +<p>"Trying not to yearn and trying not to yawn," he muttered. +"Forty-four, forty-five, forty-six."</p> + +<p>"You're ten out," said a voice. "We want fifty-six to tie, +fifty-seven to win."</p> + +<p>Mark looked up and saw that a Silchester man whom he +remembered seeing once at the Mission was preparing to +sit down beside him. He was a tall youth, fair and freckled +and clear cut, perfectly self-possessed, but lacking any hint of +condescension in his manner.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you come over with Rowley?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>Mark was going to explain that he was working at the +Mission when it struck him that a Silchester man might have +the right to resent that, and he gave no more than a simple +affirmative.</p> + +<p>"I remember seeing you at the Mission," he went on. "My +name's Hathorne. Oh, well hit, sir, well hit!"</p> + +<p>Hathorne's approbation of the batsman made the match +appear even more remote. It was like the comment of a +passer-by upon a well-designed figure in a tapestry. It was +an expression of his own æsthetic pleasure, and bore no relation +to the player he applauded.</p> + +<p>"I've only been down to the Mission once," he continued, +turning to Mark. "I felt rather up against it there."</p> + +<p>"Well, I feel much more up against it in Silchester," +replied Mark.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can understand that," Hathorne nodded. "But +you're only up against form: I was up against matter. It +struck me when I was down there what awful cheek it was +for me to be calmly going down to Chatsea and supposing +that I had a right to go there, because I had contributed a +certain amount of money belonging to my father, to help +spiritually a lot of people who probably need spiritual help +much less than I do myself. Of course, with anybody else +except Rowley in charge the effect would be damnable. As +it is, he manages to keep us from feeling as if we'd paid to +go and look at the Zoo. You're a lucky chap to be working +there without the uncomfortable feeling that you're just being +tolerated because you're a Siltonian."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking," said Mark, "that I was only being tolerated +here because I happened to come with Rowley. It's +impossible to visit a place like this and not regret that one +must remain an outsider."</p> + +<p>"It depends on what you want to do," said Hathorne. +"I want to be a parson. I'm going up to the Varsity in +October, and I am beginning to wonder what on earth good +I shall be at the end of it all."</p> + +<p>He gave Mark an opportunity to comment on this announcement; +but Mark did not know what to say and +remained silent.</p> + +<p>"I see you're not in the mood to be communicative," +Hathorne went on with a smile. "I don't blame you. It's +impossible to be communicative in this place; but some time, +when I'm down at the Mission again, I'd like to have what +is called a heart-to-heart talk. That was a good boundary. +We shall win quite comfortably. So long!"</p> + +<p>The tall, fair youth passed on; and although Mark never +had that heart-to-heart talk with him in the Mission, because +he was killed in a mountaineering accident in Switzerland +that August, the memory of him sitting there under the oak +tree on that fine summer afternoon remained with Mark for +ever; and after that brief conversation he lost most of his +shyness, so that he came to enjoy his visits to Silchester as +much as the Missioner himself did.</p> + +<p>As the new church drew near its completion, Mark apprehended +why Father Rowley attached so much importance to +as much of the money for it as possible coming directly +from Silchester. He apprehended how the Missioner felt +that he was building Silchester in a Chatsea slum; and from +that moment that landscape like a mirage of the sunlight, +that landscape into which he had been unable to fit himself +when he first beheld it became his own, for now beyond the +chimneypots he could always see the bald hills of Berkshire +and the trees and towers of Silchester, and at the end of all +the meanest alleys there were cattle in the meadows and +birds in the air above.</p> + +<p>Silchester was not the only place that Mark visited with +Father Rowley. It became a recognized custom for him to +travel up to London whenever the Missioner was preaching, +and in London he was once more struck by the variety of +Father Rowley's worldly knowledge and secular friends. +One week-end will serve as a specimen of many. They left +Chatsea on a Saturday morning travelling up to town in a +third class smoker full of bluejackets and soldiers on leave. +None of them happened to know the Missioner, and for a +time they talked surlily in undertones, evidently viewing with +distaste the prospect of having a Holy Joe in their compartment +all the way to London; but when Father Rowley pulled +out his pipe, for always when he was away from St. Agnes' +he allowed himself the privilege of smoking, and began to +talk to them about their ships and their regiments with unquestionable +knowledge, they unbent, so that long before +Waterloo was reached it must have been the jolliest compartment +in the whole train. It was all done so easily, and yet +without any of that deliberate descent from a pedestal, which +is the democratic manner of so many parsons; there was none +of that Friar Tuck style of aggressive laymanhood, nor that +subtler way of denying Christ (of course with the best intentions) +which consists of salting the conversation with a few +"damns" and peppering it with a couple of "bloodies" to +show that a parson may be what is called human. Father +Rowley was simply himself; and a month later two of the +bluejackets in that compartment and one of the soldiers were +regular visitors to the Mission House, and what is more +regular visitors to the Blessed Sacrament.</p> + +<p>They reached London soon after midday and went to lunch +at a restaurant in Jermyn Street famous for a Russian salad +that Father Rowley sometimes spoke of with affection in +Chatsea. After lunch they went to a matinée of <i>Pelleas +and Mélisande</i>, the Missioner having been given two stalls +by an actor friend. Mark enjoyed the play and was being +stirred by the imagination of old, unhappy, far off things +until his companion began to laugh. Several clever women +who looked as if they had been dragged through a hedge said +"Hush!"; even Mark, compassionate of the players' feelings +should they hear Father Rowley laugh at the poignant nonsense +they were uttering on the stage, begged him to control +himself.</p> + +<p>"But this is most unending rubbish," he said. "I've never +heard anything so ridiculous in my life. Terrible."</p> + +<p>The curtain fell on the act at this moment, so that Father +Rowley was able to give louder voice to his opinions.</p> + +<p>"This is unspeakable bosh," he repeated. "I can't understand +anything at all that is going on. People run on and +run off again and make the most idiotic remarks. I really +don't think I can stand any more of this."</p> + +<p>The clever women rattled their beads and writhed their +necks like angry snakes without effect upon the Missioner.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I can stand any more of this," he repeated. +"I shall have apoplexy if this goes on."</p> + +<p>The clever women hissed angrily about the kind of people +that came to theatres nowadays.</p> + +<p>"This man Maeterlinck must have escaped from an +asylum," Father Rowley went on. "I never heard such deplorable +nonsense in my life."</p> + +<p>"I shall ask an attendant if we can change our seats," +snapped one of the clever women in front. "That's the +worst of coming to a Saturday afternoon performance, such +extraordinary people come up to town on Saturdays."</p> + +<p>"There you are," exclaimed Father Rowley loudly, "even +that poor woman in front thinks they're extraordinary."</p> + +<p>"She's talking about you," said Mark, "not about the +people in the play."</p> + +<p>"My good woman," said Father Rowley, leaning over and +tapping her on the shoulder. "You don't think that you +really enjoy this rubbish, do you?"</p> + +<p>One of her friends who was near the gangway called out +to a programme seller:</p> + +<p>"Attendant, attendant, is it possible for my friends and +myself to move into another row? We are being pestered +with a running commentary by that stout clergyman behind +that lady in green."</p> + +<p>"Don't disturb yourselves, you foolish geese," said Father +Rowley rising. "I'm not going to sit through another act. +Come along, Mark, come along, come along. I am not happy. +I am not happy," he cried in an absurd falsetto.</p> + +<p>Then roaring with laughter at his own imitation of +Mélisande, he went rolling out of the theatre and sniffed +contentedly the air of the Strand.</p> + +<p>"I told Lady Pechell we shouldn't arrive till tea-time, so +we'd better go and ride on the top of a bus as far as the +city."</p> + +<p>It was an exhilarating ride, although Mark found that +Father Rowley occupied much more than half of the seat +for two. About five o'clock they came to the shadowy house +in Portman Square in which they were to stay till Monday. +The Missioner was as much at home here as he was at +Silchester College or in a railway compartment full of bluejackets. +He knew as well how to greet the old butler as +Lady Pechell and her sister Mrs. Mannakay, to all of whom +equally his visit was an obvious delight. Not even Father +Rowley's bulk could dwarf the proportions of that double +drawing-room or of that heavy Victorian furniture. He took +his place among the cases of stuffed humming birds and +glass-topped tables of curios, among the brocade curtains +with shaped vallances and golden tassels, among the chandeliers +and lacquered cabinets and cages of avadavats, sitting +there like a great Buddha while he chatted to the two old +ladies of a society that seemed to Mark as remote as the +people in <i>Pelleas and Mélisande</i>. From time to time one of +the old ladies would try to draw Mark into the conversation; +but he preferred listening and let them think that his monosyllabic +answers signified a shyness that did not want to be +conspicuous. Soon they appeared to forget his existence. +Deep in the lap of an armchair covered with a glazed chintz +of Sèvres roses and sable he was enthralled by that chronicle +of phantoms, that frieze of ghosts passing before his eyes, +while the present faded away upon the growing quiet of the +London evening and became remote as the distant roar of +the traffic, which itself was remote as the sound of the sea in +a shell. Fox-hunting squires caracoled by with the air of +paladins; and there was never a lady mentioned that did +not take the fancy like a princess in an old tale.</p> + +<p>"He's universal," Mark thought. "And that's one of the +secrets of being a great priest. And that's why he can talk +about Heaven and make you feel that he knows what he's +talking about. And if I can discern what he is," Mark went +on to himself, "I can be what he is. And I will be," he +vowed in the rapture of a sudden revelation.</p> + +<p>On Sunday morning Father Rowley preached in the +fashionable church of St. Cyprian's, South Kensington, after +which they lunched at the vicarage. The Reverend Drogo +Mortemer was a dapper little bachelor (it would be inappropriate +to call such a worldly little fellow a celibate) who +considered himself the leader of the most advanced section +of the Catholic Party in the Church of England. He certainly +had a finger in the pie of every well-cooked intrigue, +knew everybody worth knowing in London, and had the +private ears of several bishops. No more skilful place-finder +existed, and any member of the advanced section who wanted +a place for himself or for a friend had recourse to Mortemer.</p> + +<p>"But the little man is all right," Father Rowley had told +Mark. "Many people would have used his talents to further +himself. He has every qualification for the episcopate except +one—he believes in the Sacraments."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mortemer was the only son of James Mortimer of +the famous firm of Hadley and Mortimer. His father had +become rich before he married the youngest daughter of an +ancient but impoverished house, and soon after his marriage +he died. Mrs. Mortemer brought up her son to forget that +his father had been a tradesman and to remember that he +was rich. In order to dissociate herself from a partnership +which now existed only in name above the plate glass of the +enormous shop in Oxford Street Mrs. Mortemer took to +spelling her name with an "e," which as she pointed out was +the original spelling. She had already gratified her romantic +fancy by calling her son Drogo. Harrow and Cambridge +completed what Mrs. Mortemer began, and if Drogo had +not developed what his mother spoke of as a "mania for +religion" there is no reason to suppose that he would not one +day have been a cabinet minister. However, as it was, Mrs. +Mortemer died cherishing with her last breath a profound +conviction that her son would soon be a bishop. That he +was not likely to become a bishop was due to the fact that +with all his worldliness, with all his wealth, with all his love +of wire-pulling, with all his respect for rank he held definite +opinions and was not afraid to belong to a minority unpopular +in high places. He had too a simple piety that made +his church a power in spite of fashionable weddings and +exorbitant pew rents.</p> + +<p>"The sort of thing we're trying to do here in a small way," +he said to Father Rowley at lunch, "is what the Jesuits are +doing at Farm Street. My two assistant priests are both +rather brilliant young people, and I'm always on the look out +to get more young men of the right type."</p> + +<p>"You'd better offer Lidderdale a title when he's ready to be +ordained."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I will," said the dapper little vicar with a +courteous smile for Mark. "Do take some more claret, +Father Rowley. It's rather a specialty of ours here. We +have a friend in Bordeaux who buys for us."</p> + +<p>It was typical of Mr. Mortemer to use the plural.</p> + +<p>"There you are, Mark Anthony. I've secured you a title."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Mortemer is only being polite," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"No, no, my dear boy, on the contrary I meant absolutely +what I said."</p> + +<p>He seemed worried by Mark's distrust of his sincerity, +and for the rest of lunch he laid himself out to entertain +his less important guest, talking with a slight excess of charm +about the lack of vitality, loss of influence, and oriental barbarism +of the Orthodox Church.</p> + +<p>"<i>Enfin</i>, Asiatic religion," he said. "Don't you agree with +me, Mr. Lidderdale? And our Philorthodox brethren who +would like to bring about reunion with such a Church . . . the +result would be dreadful . . . Eurasian . . . yes, I must +confess that sometimes I sympathize with the behaviour of +the Venetians in the Fourth Crusade."</p> + +<p>Father Rowley looked at his watch and announced that +it was time to start for Poplar, where he was to address +a large gathering of Socialists in the Town Hall. Mr. Mortemer +made a <i>moue</i>.</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless I'm bound to admit that you have a strong +case. Perhaps I'm like the young man with large possessions," +he burst out with a sudden intense gravity. "Perhaps +after all the St. Cyprian's religion isn't Christianity at +all. Just Catholicism. Nothing else."</p> + +<p>"You'd better come down to Poplar with Mark and me," +Father Rowley suggested.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Mortemer shook his head with a smile.</p> + +<p>The Poplar meeting was crowded. In an atmosphere of +good fellowship one speaker after another got up and denounced +the present order. It was difficult to follow the +arguments of the speakers, because the audience cheered so +many isolated statements. A number of people shook hands +with Father Rowley when he had finished his speech and +wished that there were more parsons like him. Father +Rowley had not indulged in political attacks, but had contented +himself with praise of the poor. He had spoken movingly, +but Mark was not moved by his words. He had a +vague feeling that Father Rowley was being exploited. He +was dazed by the exuberance of the meeting and was glad +when it was over and he was back in Portman Square talking +to Lady Pechell and Mrs. Mannakay while Father Rowley +rested for an hour before he walked round the corner to +preach in old Jamaica Chapel, a galleried Georgian conventicle +that was now the Church of the Visitation, but was +still generally known as Jamaica Chapel. Evensong was half +over when the preacher arrived, and the church being full +Mark was given a chair by the sidesman in a dark corner, +which presently became darker when Father Rowley went +up into the pulpit, for all the lights were lowered except those +above the preacher's head, and nothing was visible in the +church except the luminous crucifix upon the High Altar. +The warmth and darkness brought out the scent of the many +women gathered together; the atmosphere was charged with +human emotion so that Mark sitting in his corner could fancy +that he was lost in the sensuous glooms behind some <i>Mater +Addolorata</i> of the seventeenth century. He longed to be +back in Chatsea. He was dismayed at the prospect of one +day perhaps having to cope with this quality of devotion. +He shuddered at the thought, and for the first time he wondered +if he had not a vocation for the monastic life. But +was it a vocation if one longed to escape the world? Must +not a true vocation be a longing to draw nearer to God? Oh, +this nauseating bouquet of feminine perfumes . . . it was +impossible to pay attention to the sermon.</p> + +<p>Mark went to bed early with a headache; but in the +morning he woke refreshed with the knowledge that they +were going back to Chatsea, although before they reached +home the journey had to be broken at High Thorpe whither +Father Rowley had been summoned to an interview by the +Bishop of Silchester on account of refusing to communicate +some people at the mid-day celebration. Dr. Crawshay was +at that time so ill that he received the Chatsea Missioner in +bed, and on hearing that he was accompanied by a young +man who hoped to take Holy Orders the Bishop sent word +for Mark to come up to his bedroom, where he gave him his +blessing. Mark never forgot the picture of the Bishop lying +there under a chequered coverlet looking like an old ivory +chessman, a white bishop that had been taken in the game +and put off the board.</p> + +<p>"And now, Mr. Rowley," Dr. Crawshay began when he +had motioned Mark to a chair. "To return to the subject +under discussion between us. How can you justify by any +rubric of the Book of Common Prayer non-communicating +attendance?"</p> + +<p>"I don't justify it by any rubric," the Missioner replied.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I justify it by the needs of human nature," the Missioner +continued. "In order to provide the necessary three communicants +for the mid-day Mass. . . ."</p> + +<p>"One moment, Mr. Rowley," the Bishop interrupted. "I +beg you most earnestly to avoid that word. You know my +old-fashioned Protestant notions," he added, and his eyes so +tired with pain twinkled for a moment. "To me there is +always something distasteful about that word."</p> + +<p>"What shall I substitute, my lord?" the Missioner asked. +"Do you object to the word 'Eucharist'?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't object to that, though why you should want +a Greek name when we have a beautiful English name like +the Lord's Supper, why you should want to employ such a +barbarism as 'Eucharist' I don't know. However, if you +must use Eucharist, use Eucharist. And now, by wandering +off into a discussion of terminology I forget where we were. +Oh yes, you were on the point of justifying non-communicating +attendance by the needs of human nature."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid, my lord, that in a district like St. Agnes' +it is impossible always to ensure communicants for sometimes +as many as four early Lord's Suppers said by visiting +priests."</p> + +<p>The Bishop's eyes twinkled again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there you rather have me, Mr. Rowley. Four early +Lord's Suppers does sound, I must admit, a little odd."</p> + +<p>"Four early Eucharists followed by another for children +at half-past nine, and the parochial sung Mass—sung +Eucharist."</p> + +<p>"Children?" Dr. Crawshay repeated. "You surely don't +let children go to the Celebration?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them +not, for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven</i>," Father Rowley +reminded the Bishop.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I happen to have heard that text before. But +the devil, Mr. Rowley, can cite Scripture to his purpose."</p> + +<p>"In the last letter I wrote to your lordship about the +services at St. Agnes' I particularly mentioned our children's +Eucharist."</p> + +<p>"Did you, Mr. Rowley, did you? I had quite forgotten +that."</p> + +<p>Father Rowley turned to Mark for verification.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if Mr. Rowley remembers that he did write, there is +no need to call witnesses. I have had to complain a good +deal of him, but I have never had to complain of his frankness. +It must be my fault, but I certainly hadn't understood +that there was definitely a children's Eucharist. This then, +I fancy, must be the service at which those three ladies complained +of your treatment of them."</p> + +<p>"What three ladies?" asked the priest.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, I'm growing very unbusinesslike, I'm afraid. I +thought I had enclosed you a copy of their letter to me when +I wrote to invite an explanation of your high-handed action."</p> + +<p>The Bishop sighed. The details of these ecclesiastical +squabbles distracted him at a time when he should soon leave +this fretful earth behind him. He continued wearily:</p> + +<p>"These were the three ladies who were refused communion +by you at, as I understood, the mid-day Celebration, which +now turns out to be what you call the children's Eucharist."</p> + +<p>"It is perfectly true, my lord," Father Rowley admitted, +"that on Sunday week three women did present themselves +from a neighbouring parish."</p> + +<p>"Ah, they were not parishioners?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Which is a point in your favour."</p> + +<p>"Throughout the service they sat looking through opera-glasses +at Snaith who was officiating, and greatly scandalizing +the children, who are not used to such behaviour in +church."</p> + +<p>"Such behaviour was certainly most objectionable," the +Bishop agreed.</p> + +<p>"I happened to be sitting at the back of the church, thinking +out my sermon, and their behaviour annoyed me so much +that I sent for the sacristan to go and order a cab. I then +went up and whispered to them that inasmuch as they were +strangers it would be better if they went and made their +Communion in the next parish where the service would be +more lenient to their theory of worship. I took one of them +by the arm, led her gently down the aisle and out into the +street, and handed her into the cab. Her two companions +followed her; I paid the cabman; and that was the end of +the matter."</p> + +<p>The Bishop lay back on the pillows and thought for a +moment or two in silence.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said finally, "I think that in this case you were +justified. At the same time your justification by the Book +of Common Prayer lay in the fact that these women did not +give you notice beforehand of their intention to communicate. +I think I must insist that in future you make some arrangement +with your workers and helpers to secure the requisite +minimum of communicants for every celebration. Personally, +I think six on a Sunday and four on a week-day far too +many. I think the repetition has a tendency to cheapen the +Sacrament."</p> + +<p>"<i>By Him therefore let us offer the sacrifice of praise to +God continually</i>," Father Rowley quoted from the Epistle +to the Hebrews.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I know," said the Bishop. "But I wish you +wouldn't drag in these texts. They really have nothing +whatever to do with the point in question. Please realize, +Mr. Rowley, that I allow you a great deal of latitude at St. +Agnes' because I am aware of what a great influence for +good you have been among these poor people."</p> + +<p>"Your lordship has always been consideration itself."</p> + +<p>"If that be your opinion, I want you to obey my ruling in +this small matter. I am continually being involved in correspondence +on your account with Vigilance Societies of the +type of the Protestant Alliance, and I shall give myself the +pleasure of answering their complaints without at the same +time not, as I hope, impeding your splendid work. I wish +also, if God allows me to leave this bed again, to take the +next Confirmation in St. Agnes' myself. My presence there +will afford you a measure of official support which will not, +I venture to believe, be a disadvantage to your work. I do +not expect you to modify your method of conducting the +service too much. That would savour of hypocrisy, both on +your side and on mine. But there are one or two things +which I should prefer not to see again. Last time you dressed +a number of your choir-boys in red cassocks."</p> + +<p>"The servers, you mean, my lord?"</p> + +<p>"Whatever you call them, they wear red cassocks, red +slippers, and red skull caps. That I really cannot stand. You +must put them into black cassocks and leave their caps and +slippers in the vestry cupboard. Further, I do not wish that +most conspicuous processional crucifix to be carried about in +front of me wherever I go."</p> + +<p>"Would you like the crucifix to be taken down from the +altar as well?" Father Rowley asked.</p> + +<p>"No, that can stay: I shan't see that one."</p> + +<p>"What date will suit your lordship for the Confirmation?"</p> + +<p>"Ought not the question to have been rather what date +will suit you, for I have never yet been fortunate enough, +and I never hope to be fortunate enough, to fix upon a date +straight off that will suit you, Mr. Rowley. Let me know that +later. In any case, my presence must depend, alas, upon the +state of my health. Now, how are you getting on with your +new church?"</p> + +<p>"We shall be ready to open it in the spring of next year +if all goes well. Do you think that a new licence will be +required? The new St. Agnes' is joined to the present church +by the sacristy."</p> + +<p>The Bishop considered the question for a moment.</p> + +<p>"No, I think that the old licence will serve. There is no +prospect yet of making St. Agnes' into a parish, and I would +rather take advantage of the technicality, all things being +considered. Good-bye, Mr. Rowley. God bless you."</p> + +<p>The Bishop raised his thin arm.</p> + +<p>"God bless your lordship."</p> + +<p>"You are always in my prayers, Mr. Rowley. I think +much about you lying here on the threshold of Eternal Life."</p> + +<p>The Bishop turned to Mark who knelt beside the bed.</p> + +<p>"Young man, I would fain be spared long enough to ordain +you to the service of Almighty God, but you are still young +and I am very near to death. You could not have before you +a better example of a Christian gentleman than your friend +and my friend Mr. Rowley. I shall say nothing about his +example as a clergyman of the Church of England. Remember +me, both of you, in your prayers."</p> + +<p>The Bishop sank back exhausted, and his visitors went +quietly out of the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX" />CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>THE ALTAR FOR THE DEAD</h3> + + +<p>All went as well with the new St. Agnes' as the Bishop +had hoped. Columns of red brick were covered in +marble and alabaster by the votive offerings of individuals or +the subscriptions of different Silchester Houses; the +baldacchino was given by one rich old lady, the pavement of +the church by another; the Duke of Birmingham contributed +a thurible; Oxford Old Siltonians decorated the Lady +Chapel; Cambridge Old Siltonians found the gold mosaic for +the dome of the apse. Father Rowley begged money for the +fabric far and wide, and the architect, the contractors, and +the workmen, all Chatsea men, gave of their best and asked +as little as possible in return. The new church was to be +opened on Easter morning. But early in Lent the Bishop of +Silchester died in the bed from which he had never risen +since the day Father Rowley and Mark received his blessing. +The diocese mourned him, for he was a gentle scholar, wise +in his knowledge of men, simple and pious in his own life.</p> + +<p>Dr. Harvard Cheesman, the new Bishop, was translated +from the see of Ipswich to which he had been preferred from +the Chapel Royal in the Savoy. Bishop Cheesman possessed +all the episcopal qualities. He had the hands of a physician +and the brow of a scholar. He was filled with a sense of the +importance of his position, and in that perhaps was included +a sense of the importance of himself. He was eloquent in +public, grandiloquent in private. To him Father Rowley +wrote shortly after his enthronement.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>St. Agnes' House,</p> + +<p>Keppel Street,</p> + +<p>Chatsea.</p> + +<p>March 24.</p> + +<p>My Lord Bishop,</p> + +<p>I am unwilling to trouble you at a moment when you must +be unusually busy; but I shall be glad to hear from you +about the opening of the new church of the Silchester College +Mission, which was fixed for Easter Sunday. Your +predecessor, Bishop Crawshay, did not think that any new +licence would be necessary, because the new St. Agnes' +is joined by the sacristy to the old mission church. There +is no idea at present of asking you to constitute St. Agnes' +a parish and therefore the question of consecration does not +arise. I regret to say that Bishop Crawshay thoroughly +disapproved of our services and ritual, and I think he may +have felt unwilling to commit himself to endorsing them by +the formal grant of a new licence. May I hear from you +at your convenience, and may I respectfully add that your +lordship has the prayers of all my people?</p> + +<p>I am your lordship's obedient servant,</p> + +<p>John Rowley.</p></div> + +<p>To which the Lord Bishop of Silchester replied as +follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>High Thorpe Castle.</p> + +<p>March 26.</p> + +<p>Dear Mr. Rowley,</p> + +<p>As my predecessor Bishop Crawshay did not think a new +licence would be necessary I have no doubt that you can go +ahead with your plan of opening the new St. Agnes' on +Easter Sunday. At the same time I cannot help feeling that +a new licence would be desirable and I am asking Canon +Whymper as Rural Dean to pay a visit and make the necessary +report. I have heard much of your work, and I pray +that it may be as blessed in my time as it was in the time of +my predecessor. I am grateful to your people for their +prayers and I am, my dear Mr. Rowley,</p> + +<p>Yours very truly,</p> + +<p>Harvard Silton.</p></div> + +<p>Canon Whymper, the Rector of Chatsea and Rural Dean, +visited the new church on the Monday of Passion week. On +Saturday Father Rowley received the following letter from +the Bishop:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>High Thorpe Castle.</p> + +<p>April 9.</p> + +<p>Dear Mr. Rowley,</p> + +<p>I have just received Canon Whymper's report upon the +new church of the Silchester College Mission, and I think +before you open the church on Easter Sunday I should like +to talk over one or two comparatively unimportant details +with you personally. Moreover, it would give me pleasure +to make your acquaintance and hear something of your +method of work at St. Agnes'. Perhaps you will come to +High Thorpe on Monday. There is a train which arrives at +High Thorpe at 2.36. So I shall expect you at the Castle +at 2.42.</p> + +<p>Yours very truly,</p> + +<p>Harvard Silton.</p></div> + +<p>Mark paid his second visit to High Thorpe Castle on one +of those serene April mornings that sail like swans across +the lake of time. The episcopal standard on the highest turret +hung limp; the castle quivered in the sunlight; the lawns +wearing their richest green seemed as far from being walked +upon as the blue sky above them. Whether it was that Mark +was nervous about the result of the coming interview or +whether it was that his first visit to High Thorpe had been +the climax of so many new experiences, he was certainly +much more sharply aware on this occasion of what the Castle +stood for. Looking back to the morning when he and Father +Rowley sat with Bishop Crawshay in his bedroom, he realized +how much the personality of the dead bishop had +dominated his surroundings and how little all this dignity +and splendour, which must have been as imposing then as it +was now, had impressed his imagination. There came over +Mark, when he and Father Rowley were walking silently +along the drive, such a foreboding of the result of this visit +that he almost asked the priest why they bothered to continue +their journey, why they did not turn round immediately +and take the next train back to Chatsea. But before he had +time to say anything Father Rowley had pulled the chain of +the door bell, the butler had opened the door, and they were +waiting the Bishop's pleasure in a room that smelt of the +best leather and the best furniture polish. It was a room +that so long as Dr. Cheesman held the see of Silchester would +be given over to the preliminary nervousness of the diocesan +clergy, who would one after another look at that steel engraving +of Jesus Christ preaching by the Sea of Galilee, and who +when they had finished looking at that would look at those +two oil paintings of still life, those rich and sombre accumulations +of fish, fruit and game, that glowed upon the walls +with a kind of sinister luxury. Waiting rooms are all much +alike, the doctor's, the dentist's, the bishop's, the railway-station's; +they may differ slightly in externals, but they +all possess the same atmosphere of transitory discomfort. +They have all occupied human beings with the perusal of +books they would never otherwise have dreamed of opening, +with the observation of pictures they would never otherwise +have thought of regarding twice.</p> + +<p>"Would you step this way," the butler requested. "His +lordship is waiting for you in the library."</p> + +<p>The two culprits, for by this time Mark was oblivious of +every other emotion except one of profound guilt, guilt of +what he could not say, but most unmistakably guilt, walked +along toward the Bishop's library—Father Rowley like a fat +and naughty child who knows he is going to be reproved for +eating too many tarts.</p> + +<p>There was a studied poise in the attitude of the Bishop +when they entered. One shapely leg trailed negligently +behind his chair ready at any moment to serve as the pivot +upon which its owner could swing round again into the +every-day world; the other leg firmly wedged against the desk +supported the burden of his concentration. The Bishop +swung round on the shapely leg in attendance, and in a single +sweeping gesture blotted the last page of the letter he had +been writing and shook Father Rowley by the hand.</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to have an opportunity of meeting you, +Mr. Rowley," he began, and then paused a moment with an +inquiring look at Mark.</p> + +<p>"I thought you wouldn't mind, my lord, if I brought with +me young Lidderdale, who is reading for Holy Orders and +working with us at St. Agnes'. I am apt to forget sometimes +exactly to what I have and have not committed myself and +I thought your lordship would not object. . . ."</p> + +<p>"To a witness?" interposed the Bishop in a tone of courtly +banter. "Come, come, Mr. Rowley, had I known you were +going to be so suspicious of me I should have asked my +domestic chaplain to be present on my side."</p> + +<p>Mark, supposing that the Bishop was annoyed by his presence +at the interview, made a movement to retire, whereupon +the Bishop tapped him paternally upon the shoulder and +said:</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, non-sense, I was merely indulging in a mild +pleasantry. Sit down, Mr. Rowley. Mr. Lidderdale I think +you will find that chair quite comfortable. Well, Mr. +Rowley," he began, "I have heard much of you and your +work. Our friend Canon Whymper spoke of it with enthusiasm. +Yes, yes, with enthusiasm. I often regret that +in the course of my ministry I have never had the good +fortune to be called to work among the poor, the real poor. +You have been privileged, Mr. Rowley, if I may be allowed +to say so, greatly, immensely privileged. You find a wilderness, +and you make of it a garden. Wonderful. +Wonderful."</p> + +<p>Mark began to feel uncomfortable, and he thought by the +way Father Rowley was puffing his cheeks that he too was +beginning to feel uncomfortable. The Missioner looked as +if he was blowing away the lather of the soap that the Bishop +was using upon him so prodigally.</p> + +<p>"Some other time, Mr. Rowley, when I have a little leisure . . . +I perceive the need of making myself acquainted with +every side of my new diocese—a little leisure, yes . . . +sometime I should like to have a long talk with you about +all the details of your work at Chatsea, of which as I said +Canon Whymper has spoken to me most enthusiastically. +The question, however, immediately before us this morning +is the licence of your new church. Since writing to you first +I have thought the matter over most earnestly. I have given +the matter the gravest consideration. I have consulted Canon +Whymper and I have come to the conclusion that bearing +all the circumstances in mind it will be wiser for you to +apply, and I hope be granted, a new licence. With this decision +in my mind I asked Canon Whymper in his capacity +as Rural Dean to report upon the new church. Mr. Rowley, +his report is extremely favourable. He writes to me of the +noble fabric, noble is the actual epithet he employs, yes, the +very phrase. He expresses his conviction that you are to be +congratulated, most warmly congratulated, Mr. Rowley, upon +your vigorous work. I believe I am right in saying that all +the money necessary to erect this noble edifice has been raised +by yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Not all of it," said Father Rowley. "I still owe £3,000."</p> + +<p>"A mere trifle," said the Bishop, dismissing the sum with +the airy gesture of a conjurer who palms a coin. "A mere +trifle compared with what you have already raised. I know +that at the moment there is no question of constituting as a +parish what is at present merely a district; but such a contingency +must be borne in mind by both of us, and inasmuch +as that would imply consecration by myself I am unwilling +to prejudice any decision I might have to take later, should +the necessity for consecration arise, by allowing you at the +moment a wider latitude than I might be prepared to allow +you in the future. Yes, Canon Whymper writes most +enthusiastically of the noble fabric." The Bishop paused, +drummed with his fingers on the arm of his chair as if he +were testing the pitch of his instrument, and then taking a +deep breath boomed forth: "But Mr. Rowley, in his report +he informs me that in the middle of the south aisle exists an +altar or Holy Table expressly and exclusively designed for +what he was told are known as masses for the dead."</p> + +<p>"That is perfectly true," said Father Rowley.</p> + +<p>"Ah," said the Bishop, shaking his head gravely. "I did +not indeed imagine that Canon Whymper would be misinformed +about such an important feature; but I did not think +it right to act without ascertaining first from you that such +is indeed the case. Mr. Rowley, it would be difficult for me +to express how grievously it pains me to have to seem to +interfere in the slightest degree with the successful prosecution +of your work among the poor of Chatsea, especially to +make such interference one of the first of my actions in a +new diocese; but the responsibilities of a bishop are grave. +He cannot lightly endorse a condition of affairs, a method +of services which in his inmost heart after the deepest confederation +he feels is repugnant to the spirit of the Church +Of England. . . ."</p> + +<p>"I question that opinion, my lord," said the Missioner.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rowley, pray allow me to finish. We have little time +at our disposal for a theological argument which would in +any case be fruitless, for as I told you I have already examined +the question with the deepest consideration from every +standpoint. Though I may respect your opinions in my +private capacity, for I do not wish to impugn for one moment +the sincerity of your beliefs, in my episcopal, or what I may +call my public character, I can only condemn them utterly. +Utterly, Mr. Rowley, and completely."</p> + +<p>"But this altar, my lord," shouted Father Rowley, springing +to his feet, to the alarm of Mark, who thought he was +going to shake his fist in the Bishop's face, "this altar was +subscribed for by the poor of St. Agnes', by all the poor of +St. Agnes', as a memorial of the lives of sailors and marines +of St. Agnes' lost in the sinking of the <i>King Harry</i>. Your +predecessor, Bishop Crawshay, knew of its existence, actually +saw it and commented on its ugliness; yet when I told him +the circumstances in which it had been erected he was deeply +moved by the beautiful idea. This altar has been in use for +nearly three years. Masses for the dead have been said there +time after time. This altar is surrounded by memorials of +my dead people. It is one of the most vital factors in my +work there. You ask me to remove it, before you have been +in the diocese a month, before you have had time to see with +your own eyes what an influence for good it has on the daily +lives of the poor people who built it. My lord, I will not +remove the altar."</p> + +<p>While Father Rowley was speaking the Bishop of Silchester +had been looking like a man on a railway platform +who has been ambushed by a whistling engine.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rowley, Mr. Rowley," he said, "I pray you to control +yourself. I beg you to understand that this is not a mere +question of red tape, if I may use the expression, of one extra +altar or Holy Table, but it is a question of the services said +at that altar or Holy Table."</p> + +<p>"That is precisely what I am trying to point out to your +lordship," said Father Rowley angrily.</p> + +<p>"You yourself told me when you wrote to me that Bishop +Crawshay disapproved of much that was done at St. Agnes'. +It was you who put it into my head at the beginning of our +correspondence that you were not asking me formally to +open the new church, because you were doubtful of the effect +your method of worship might have upon me. I don't wish +for a moment to suggest that you were trying to bundle on +one side the question of the licence, before I had had a moment +to look round me in my new diocese, I say I do <i>not</i> +think this for a moment; but inasmuch as the question has +come before me officially, as sooner or later it must have +come before me officially, I cannot allow my future action to +be prejudiced by giving you liberties now that I may not +be prepared to allow you later on. Suppose that in three +years' time the question of consecrating the new St. Agnes' +arises and the legality of this third altar or Holy Table is +questioned, how should I be able to turn round and forbid +then what I have not forbidden now?"</p> + +<p>"Your lordship prefers to force me to resign?"</p> + +<p>"Force you to resign, Mr. Rowley?" the Bishop repeated +in aggrieved accents. "What can I possibly have said that +could lead you to suppose for one moment that I was desirous +of forcing you to resign? I make allowance for your natural +disappointment. I make every allowance. Otherwise Mr. +Rowley I should be tempted to characterize such a statement +as cruel. As cruel, Mr. Rowley."</p> + +<p>"What other alternative have I?"</p> + +<p>"I should have said, Mr. Rowley, that you have one other +very obvious alternative, and that is to accept my ruling upon +the subject of this third altar or Holy Table. When I shall +receive an assurance that you will do so, I shall with pleasure, +with great pleasure, give you a new licence."</p> + +<p>"I could not possibly do that," said the Missioner. "I could +not possibly go back to my people to-night and tell them this +Holy Week that what I have been teaching them for ten years +is a lie. I would rather resign a thousand times."</p> + +<p>"That is a far more accurate statement than your previous +assertion that I was forcing you to resign."</p> + +<p>"When will you have found a priest to take my place +temporarily?" the Missioner asked in a chill voice. "It is +unlikely that the Silchester College authorities will find another +missioner at once, and I think it rests with your lordship +to find a locum tenens. I do not wish to disappoint my people +about the date of the opening of their new church. They +have been looking forward to this Easter for so long now. +Poor dears!"</p> + +<p>Father Rowley sighed out the last ejaculation to himself, +and his sigh ran through the Bishop's opulent library like a +dull wind. Mark had a mad impulse to tell the Bishop the +story of his father and the Lima Street Mission. His father +had resigned on Palm Sunday. Oh, this ghastly dream. . . . +Father Rowley leave Chatsea! It was unimaginable. . . .</p> + +<p>But the Bishop was overthrowing the work of ten years +with apparently as little consciousness of the ruin he was +creating as a boar that has rooted up an ant-heap with his +snout.</p> + +<p>"Quite so. Quite so, Mr. Rowley. I certainly see your +point," the Bishop declared. "I will do my best to secure a +priest, but meanwhile . . . let me see. I need scarcely +say how painful your decision has been, what pain it has +caused me. Let me see, yes, in the circumstances I agree +with you that it would be inadvisable to postpone the opening. +I think from every point of view it would be wisest to proceed +according to schedule. Could not this altar or Holy Table +be railed off temporarily, I do not say muffled up, but could +not some indication be given of the fact that I do not sanction +its use? In that case I should have no objection, indeed on +the contrary I should be only too happy for you to carry on +with your work either until I can find a temporary substitute +or until the Silchester College authorities can appoint a new +missioner. Dear me, this is dreadfully painful for me."</p> + +<p>Father Rowley stared at the Bishop in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"You want me to continue?" he asked. "Really, my lord, +you will excuse my plain speaking if I tell you that I am +amazed at your point of view. A moment ago you told me +that I must either remove this altar or resign."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Mr. Rowley. I did not mention the word +'resign.'"</p> + +<p>"And now," the Missioner went on without paying any +attention to the interruption. "You are ready to let me stay +at St. Agnes' until a successor can conveniently be found. If +my teaching is as pernicious as you think, I cannot understand +your lordship's tolerating my officiating for another hour in +your diocese."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rowley, you are introducing into this unhappy affair +a great deal of extraneous feeling. I do not reproach you. +I know that you are labouring under the stress of strong +emotion. I overlook the manner which you have adopted +towards me. I overlook it, Mr. Rowley. Before we close +this interview, which I must once more assure you is as +painful for me as for you, I want you to understand how +deeply I regret having been forced to take the action I have. +I ask your prayers, Mr. Rowley, and please be sure that you +always have and always will have my prayers. Have you +anything more you would like to say? Do not let me give +you the impression from my alluding to the heavy work of +entering upon the duties and responsibilities of a new diocese +that I desire to hurry you in any way this afternoon. You +will want to catch the 4.10 back to Chatsea I have no doubt. +Too early perhaps for tea. Good-bye, Mr. Rowley. Good-bye, +Mr. . . ." the Bishop paused and looked inquiringly +at Mark. "Lidderdale, ah, yes," he said. "For the moment +I forgot. Good-bye, Mr. Lidderdale. A simple railing will, +I think be sufficient for the altar in question, Mr. Rowley. +I perfectly appreciate your motive in asking the Bishop of +Barbadoes to officiate at the opening. I quite see that you +did not wish to commit me to an approval of a ritual which +might be more advanced than I might consider proper in my +diocese. . . . Good-bye, good-bye."</p> + +<p>Father Rowley and Mark found themselves once more in +the drive. The episcopal standard floated in the wind, which +had sprung up while they were with the Bishop. They walked +silently to the railway station under a fast clouding sky.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX" />CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>FATHER ROWLEY</h3> + + +<p>The first episcopal act of the Bishop of Silchester drove +many poor souls away from God. It was a time of +deep emotional stress for all the St. Agnes' workers, and +Father Rowley could not show himself in Keppel Street without +being surrounded by a crowd of supplicants who with +tears and lamentations begged him to give up the new St. +Agnes' and to remain in the old mission church rather than +be lost to them for ever. There were some who even wished +him to surrender the Third Altar; but in his last sermon +preached on the Sunday night before he left Chatsea, he +spoke to them and said:</p> + +<p>"In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the +Holy Ghost. Amen. The 15th verse of the 21st Chapter of +the Holy Gospel according to Saint John: <i>Feed my lambs.</i></p> + +<p>"It is difficult for me, dear people, to preach to you this +evening for the last time as your missioner, to preach, moreover, +the last sermon that will ever be preached in this little +mission church which has meant so much to you and so +much to me. By the mercy of God man does not realize at +the moment all that is implied by an occasion like this. He +speaks with his mouth words of farewell; but his heart still +beats to what was and what is, rather than to what will be.</p> + +<p>"When I took as my text to-night those three words of +Our Lord to St. Peter, <i>Feed my Lambs</i>, I took them as +words that might be applied, first to the Lord Bishop of this +diocese, secondly to the priest who will take my place in this +Mission, and thirdly and perhaps most poignantly of all to +myself. I cannot bring myself to suppose that in this moment +of grief, in this moment of bitterness, almost of despair I +am able to speak fairly of the Bishop of Silchester's action in +compelling me to resign what has counted for all that is most +precious in my life on earth. And already, in saying that +the Bishop has compelled me to resign, I am not speaking +with perfect accuracy, inasmuch as if I had been willing to +surrender what I considered one of the essential articles of +our belief, the Bishop would have been glad to licence the +new St. Agnes' and to give his countenance and his support +to me, the unworthy priest in charge of it.</p> + +<p>"I want you therefore, dear people, to try to look at the +matter from the standpoint of the Bishop. I want you to +try to understand that in objecting to our little altar for the +dead he is objecting not so much to the altar itself as to the +services said at that altar. If it had merely been a question +between us of a third altar, whether here or in the new St. +Agnes', I should have found it possible, however unwillingly, +to ask you—you, who out of your hard-earned savings built +that altar—to allow it to be removed. Yes, I should have +been selfish enough to ask you to make that great sacrifice on +my account. But when the Bishop insisted that I and the +priests who have borne with me and worked with me and +preached with me and prayed with me all these years should +abstain from saying those Masses which we believe and which +you believe help our dear ones waiting for the Day of Judgment—why, +then, I felt that my surrender would have been +a denial of our dear Lord, such a denial as St. Peter himself +uttered in the hall of the high-priest's house. But the Bishop +does not believe that our prayers here below have any efficacy +or can in any way help the blessed dead. He does not believe +in such prayers, and he believes that those who do believe +in such prayers are wrong, not merely according to the teaching +of the Prayer Book, but also according to the revelation +of Almighty God. I do not want you to say, as you will be +tempted to say, that the Bishop of Silchester in condemning +our method of services at St. Agnes' is condemning them +with an eye to public opinion or to political advantage. Alas, +I have myself been tempted to say bitter words about him, +to think bitter thoughts; but at this moment, with that last +<i>Nunc Dimittis</i> ringing in my ears, <i>Lord now lettest Thou +Thy servant depart in peace</i>, I realize that the Bishop is +acting honestly and sincerely, however much he may be acting +wrongly and hastily. It is dreadful for me at this moment +of parting to feel that some of you here to-night may be +turned from the face of God because you are angered against +one of God's ministers. If any poor words of mine have +power to touch your hearts, I beg you to believe that in giving +us this great trial of our faith God is acting with that mysterious +justice and omniscience of which we speak idly +without in the least apprehending what He means. I shall +say no more in defence and explanation of the Bishop's +action, and if he should consider my defence and explanation +of it a piece of presumption I send him at this solemn moment +of farewell a message that I shall never cease to pray +that he may long guide you on the way that leads up to +eternal happiness.</p> + +<p>"I can speak more freely of what your attitude should +be towards Father Hungerford, the priest who is coming +to take my place and who is going with God's help to do +far more for you here than ever I have been able to do. +I want you all to put yourselves in his place; I want you all +to think of him to-night wondering, fearing, doubting, hoping, +and praying. I want you to imagine how difficult he +must be feeling the situation is for him. He will come here +to-morrow conscious that there is nobody in this district of +ours who does not feel, whether he be a communicant or not, +that the Bishop had no right to intervene so soon and without +greater knowledge of his new diocese in a district like ours. +I cannot help knowing how much I myself am to blame in +this particular; but, my dear people, it has been very hard +for me during these last two weeks always to be brave and +hopeful. Often I have found those entreaties on my doorstep +almost more than I could endure to hear, those letters +on my desk almost more than I could bear to read. So, if +you want to do the one thing that can comfort me in this +bitter hour of mine I entreat you to show Father Hungerford +that your faith and your hope and your love do not depend +on your affection for an unworthy priest, but upon that +deeper, greater, nobler affection for the word of God. There +is only one way in which you can show Father Hungerford +that Jesus Christ lives in your hearts, and that is by going +to Confession and to Communion and by hearing Mass as you +have done all this time. Show him by your behaviour in +the street, by your kindness and consideration at home, by +your devotion and reverence in church, that you appreciate +the mercies of God, that you appreciate what it means to +have Jesus Christ upon your altar, that you are, in a word, +Christians.</p> + +<p>"And now at last I must think of those words of our dear +Lord as they apply to myself: <i>Feed my lambs.</i> And as I +repeat them, I ask myself again if I have done right, for I +am troubled in spirit, and I wonder if I ought to have given +up that third altar and to have remained here. But even +as I wonder this, even as at this moment I stand in this pulpit +for the last time, a voice within me forbids me to doubt. +No, my clear folk, I cannot surrender that altar. I +cannot come to you and say that what I have been teaching +for ten years was of so little value, of so little importance, +of so little worth, that for the sake of policy it can be +abandoned with a stroke of the pen or a nod of the head. I +stand here looking out into the future, hearing like angelic +trumpets those three words sounding and resounding upon +the great void of time: <i>Feed my lambs!</i> I ask myself what +work lies before me, what lambs I shall have to feed elsewhere; +I ask myself in my misery whether God has found +me unworthy of the trust He gave me. I feel that if I leave +St. Agnes' to-morrow with the thought that you still cherish +angry and resentful feelings I shall sink to a lower depth of +humiliation and depression than I have yet reached. But +if I can leave St. Agnes' with the assurance that my work +here will go steadily forward to the glory of God from the +point at which I renounced it, I shall know that God must +have some other purpose for the remainder of my life, some +other mission to which He intends to call me. To you, my +dear people, to you who have borne with me patiently, to +you who have tolerated so sweetly my infirmities, to you +who have been kind to my failings, to you who have taught +me so much more of our dear Lord Jesus Christ than I have +been able to teach you, to you I say good-bye. I cannot harrow +your feelings or my own by saying any more. In the +name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. +Amen."</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding these words, the first episcopal act of the +Bishop of Silchester drove many poor souls away from God.</p> + +<p>The effect upon Mark, had his religion been merely a +pastime of adolescence, would have been disastrous. Owing +to human nature's respect for the conspicuous there is nothing +so demoralizing to faith as the failure of a leader of religion +to set forth in his own actions the word of God. Mark, however, +looked at the whole business more from an +ecclesiastical angle. He had reason to condemn the Bishop +for unchristian behaviour; but he preferred to condemn him +for uncatholic behaviour. Dr. Cheesman and the many other +Dr. Cheesmans of whom the Anglican episcopate was at this +period composed never succeeded in shaking his belief in +Christ; they did succeed in shaking for a short time his belief +in the Church of England. There are few Anglo-Catholics, +whether priests or laymen, who have never doubted the right +of their Church to proclaim herself a branch of the Holy +Catholic Church. This phase of doubt is indeed so common +that in ecclesiastical circles it has come to be regarded as +a kind of mental chicken-pox, not very alarming if it catches +the patient when young, but growing more dangerous in +proportion to the lateness of its attack. Mark had his attack +young. When Father Rowley left Chatsea, he was anxious +to accompany him on what he knew would be an exhausting +time of travelling round to preach and collect the necessary +money to pay off what was actually a personal debt. It +seemed that there must be something fundamentally wrong +with a Church that allowed a man to perambulate England in +an endeavour to pay off the debt upon a building from ministrating +in which he had been debarred. This debt, moreover, +was presumably going to be paid by people who fully subscribed +to teaching which had been officially condemned.</p> + +<p>When Mark commented on this, Father Rowley pointed +out that as a matter of fact a great deal of money had been +sent by people who admired the practical side, or what they +would have called the practical side of his work among the +poor, but who at the same time thoroughly disapproved of +its ecclesiastical form.</p> + +<p>"In justice to the poor old Church of England," he said +to Mark, "it must be pointed out that a good deal of this +money has been given by devout Anglicans under protest."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but that doesn't seriously affect the argument," said +Mark. "You collect I don't know how many thousands of +pounds to put up a magnificent church from which the Bishop +of Silchester sees fit to turn you out, but for the debt on +which you are still personally responsible. It's fantastic!"</p> + +<p>"Mark Anthony," the priest said with a laugh, "you lack +the legal mind. The Bishop did not turn me out. The +Bishop can perfectly well say I turned myself out."</p> + +<p>"It is all too subtle for me," said Mark. "But I'm not +going to worry you with any more arguments. You've had +enough of them to last you for ever. I do wish you'd let +me stick to you personally and help you in any way possible."</p> + +<p>"No, Mark Anthony," the priest replied. "I've done my +work at St. Agnes', and you've done yours. Your business +now is to take advantage of what has happened and to get +back to your books, which whatever you may say have been +more and more neglected lately. You'll find it of enormous +help to be a good theologian. I have never ceased to regret +my own shortcomings in that respect. Besides, I think you +ought to spend a certain amount of time with Ogilvie before +you go to Glastonbury. There is quite a lot of work to do +if you look for it in a country parish like—what's the name +of the place? Wych. Oh, yes, quite a lot of work. Don't +bother your head about Anglican Orders and Roman Claims +and the Catholicity of the Church of England. Your business +is to save souls, your own included. Go back and read +and get to know the people in Ogilvie's parish. Anybody +can tackle a district like St. Agnes'; anybody that is who has +the suitable personality. How many people can tackle an +English country parish? I hardly know one. I should like +to have you with me. I'm fond of you, and you're useful; +but at your age to travel round from town to town listening +to my begging would be all wrong. I might even go to +America. I've had most cordial invitations from several +American bishops, and if I can't raise the money in England +I shall have to go there. If God has any more work for me +to do I shall be offered a cure some day somewhere. I want +you to be one of my assistant priests, and if you're going to +be useful to me as an assistant priest, you really must have +some theology behind you. These bishops get more and more +difficult to deal with every year. Now, it's no good arguing. +My mind's made up. I won't take you with me."</p> + +<p>So Mark went back to Wych-on-the-Wold and brooded +upon the non-Catholic aspects of the Anglican Church.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI" />CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>POINTS OF VIEW</h3> + + +<p>Mark did not find that his guardian was much disturbed +by his doubts of the validity of Anglican Orders nor +much alarmed by his suspicion that the Establishment had no +right to be considered a branch of the Holy Catholic Church.</p> + +<p>"The crucial point in the Roman position is their doctrine +of intention," said Mr. Ogilvie. "It always seems to me that +this doctrine is a particularly dangerous one for them to +play with and one that may recoil at any moment upon their +own heads. There has been a great deal of super-subtle +dividing of intentions into actual, virtual, habitual, and interpretative; +but if you are going to take your stand on logic +you must be ready to face a logical conclusion. Let us agree +for a moment that Barlow and the other bishops who consecrated +Matthew Parker had no intention of consecrating him +as a bishop for the purpose of ordaining priests in the sense +in which Catholics understand the word priest. Do the +Romans expect us to believe that all their prelates in the +time of the Renaissance had a perfect intention when they +were consecrating? Or leave on one side for a moment the +sacrament of Orders; the validity of other sacraments is +affected by their extension of the doctrine beyond the interpretation +of St. Thomas Aquinas. However improbable it +may be that at one moment all the priests of the Catholic +Church should lack the intention let us say of absolution, it +<i>is</i> a <i>logical</i> possibility, in which case all the faithful would +logically speaking be damned. It was in order to guard +against this kind of logical catastrophe that the first split between +an actual intention and a virtual intention was made. +The Roman Church teaches that the virtual intention is +enough; but if we argue that a virtual intention might be +ascribed to the bishops who consecrated Parker, the Roman +controversialists present us with another subdivision—the +habitual intention, which is one that formerly existed, but +of the present continuance of which there is no trace. Now +really, my dear Mark, you must admit that we've reached a +point very near to nonsense if this kind of logical subtlety +is to control Faith."</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact," said Mark, "I don't think I should +ever want to 'vert over the question of the validity of +Anglican Orders. I haven't any doubts now of their validity, +and I think it's improbable that I shall have any doubts after +I'm ordained. At the same time, there <i>is</i> something wrong +with the Church of England if a situation like that in Chatsea +can be created by the whim of a bishop. Our unhappy union +between Church and State has created a class of bishops +which has no parallel anywhere else in Christendom. In +order to become a bishop in England, at any rate of the kind +that has a seat in the House of Lords, it is necessary to be +a gentleman, or rather to have the outward and visible signs +of being a gentleman, to be a scholar, or to be a diplomat. +Of course, there will be exceptions; but if you look at almost +all our bishops, you will find they have reached their dignity +by social attainments or by political utility or sometimes by +intellectual distinction, but hardly ever by religious fervour, +or spiritual honesty, or fearless opinion. I can sympathize +with the dissenters of the seventeenth century in blaming the +episcopate for all spiritual maladies. I expect there were a +good many Dr. Cheesmans in the days of Defoe. Look back +and see how the bishops have always voted in the House of +Lords with enthusiastic unanimity against every proposal of +reform that was ever put forward. I wonder what will happen +when they are called upon to face a real national crisis."</p> + +<p>"I'm perfectly ready to agree with everything you say +about bishops," the Rector volunteered. "But more or less, +I'm sorry to add, it is a criticism that can be applied to all +the orders of the priesthood everywhere in Christendom. +What can we, what dare we say in favour of priests when we +remember Our Lord?"</p> + +<p>"When a man does try to follow the Gospel a little more +closely than the rest," Mark raged, "the bishops down him. +They exist to maintain the safety of their class. They have +reached their present position by knowing the right people, +by condemning the wrong people, and by balancing their fat +bottoms on fences. Sometimes when their political patrons +quarrel over a pair of mediocrities, a saintly man who is +either very old or very ill like Bishop Crawshay is appointed +as a stop-gap."</p> + +<p>"Yes," the Rector agreed. "But our present bishops are +only one more aspect of Victorian materialism. The whole +of contemporary society can be criticized in the same way. +After all, we get the bishops we deserve, just as we get the +politicians we deserve and the generals we deserve and the +painters we deserve."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that's any excuse for the bishops. I sometimes +dream of worming myself up and stopping at nothing in +order to be made a bishop, and then when I have the mitre +at last of appearing in my true colours."</p> + +<p>"Our Protestant brethren think that is what many of our +right reverend fathers in God do now," the Rector laughed.</p> + +<p>These discussions might have continued for ever without +taking Mark any further. His failure to experience Oxford +had deprived him of the opportunity to whet his opinions +upon the grindstone of debate, and there had been no time +for academic argument in the three years of Keppel Street. +In Wych-on-the-Wold there never seemed much else to do +but argue. It was one of the effects of leaving, or rather +of seeing destroyed, a society that was obviously performing +useful work and returning to a society that, so far as Mark +could observe performed no kind of work whatever. He +was loath to criticize the Rector; but he felt that he was +moving along in a rut that might at any moment deepen to +a chasm in which he would be spiritually lost. He seemed +to be taking his priestly responsibilities too lightly, to be +content with gratifying his own desire to worship Almighty +God without troubling about his parishioners. Mark did +not like to make any suggestions about parochial work, because +he was afraid of the Rector's retorting with an implied +criticism of St. Agnes'; and that would have involved him +in a bitter argument for which he would afterward be sorry. +Nor was it only in his missionary duties that he felt his old +friend was allowing himself to rust. Three years ago the +Rector had said a daily Mass. Now he was content with one +on Thursdays except on festivals. Mark began to take walks +far afield, which was a sign of irritation with the inaction of +the life round him rather than the expression of an interest +in the life beyond. On one of these walks he found himself +at Wield in the diocese of Kidderminster thirty miles or more +away from home. He had spent the night in a remote Cotswold +village, and all the morning he had been travelling +through the level vale of Wield which, beautiful at the time +of blossom, was now at midsummer a landscape without line, +monotonously green, prosperous and complacent. While he +was eating his bread and cheese at the public bar of the principal +inn, he picked up one of the local newspapers and +reading it, as one so often reads in such surroundings, with +much greater particularity than the journal of a metropolis, +he came upon the following letter:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>To the Editor of the W<small>IELD</small> O<small>BSERVER AND</small> S<small>OUTH</small> W<small>ORCESTERSHIRE</small> +C<small>OURANT</small>,</p> + +<p>SIR,—The leader in your issue of last Tuesday upon my +sermon in St. Andrew's Church on the preceding Sunday +calls for some corrections. The action of the Bishop of +Kidderminster in inhibiting Father Rowley from accepting +an invitation to preach in my church is due either to his +ignorance of the facts of the case, to his stupidity in appreciating +them, or, I must regretfully add, to his natural bias +towards persecution. These are strong words for a parish +priest to use about his diocesan; but the Bishop of Kidderminster's +consistent support of latitudinarianism and his consistent +hostility towards any of his clergy who practise the +forms of worship which they feel they are bound to practise +by the rubrics of the Book of Common Prayer call for strong +words. The Bishop in correspondence with me declined to +give any reason for his inhibition of Father Rowley beyond +a general disapproval of his teaching. I am informed +privately that the Bishop is suffering from a delusion that +Father Rowley disobeyed the Bishop of Silchester, which is +of course perfectly untrue and which is only one more sign +of how completely out of accord our bishops are with what +is going on either in their own diocese or in any other. My +own inclination was frankly to defy his Lordship and insist +upon Father Rowley's fulfilling his engagement. I am not +sure that I do not now regret that I allowed my church-wardens +to overpersuade me on this point. I take great +exception to your statement that the offertories both in the +morning and in the evening were sent by me to Father +Rowley regardless of the wishes of my parishioners. That +there are certain parishioners of St. Andrew's who objected +I have no doubt. But when I send you the attached list of +parishioners who subscribed no less than £18 to be added to +the two collections, you will I am sure courteously admit +that in this case the opinion of the parishioners of St. +Andrew's was at one with the opinion of their Vicar.—I am, +Sir, your obedient servant,</p> + +<p>ADRIAN FORSHAW.</p></div> + +<p>Mark was so much delighted by this letter that he went +off at once to call on Mr. Forshaw, but did not find him at +home; he was amused to hear from the housekeeper that +his reverence had been summoned to an interview with the +Bishop of Kidderminster. Mark fancied that it would be +the prelate who would have the unpleasant quarter of an +hour. Presently he began to ponder what it meant for such +a letter to be written and published; his doubts about the +Church of England returned; and in this condition of mind +he found himself outside a small Roman Catholic church +dedicated to St. Joseph, where hopeful of gaining the Divine +guidance within he passed through the door. It may be that +he was in a less receptive mood than he thought, for what +impressed him most was the Anglican atmosphere of this +Italian outpost. The stale perfume of incense on stone could +not eclipse that authentic perfume of respectability which +has been acquired by so many Roman Catholic churches in +England. There were still hanging on the pillars the framed +numbers of Sunday's hymns. Mark pictured the choir boy +who must have slipped the cards in the frame with anxious +and triumphant and immemorial Anglican zeal; and while +he was contemplating this symbolical hymn-board, over his +shoulder floated an authentic Anglican voice, a voice that +sounded as if it was being choked out of the larynx by the +clerical collar. It was the Rector, a stumpy little man with +the purple stock of a monseigneur, who showed the stranger +round his church and ended by inviting him to lunch. Mark, +wondering if he had reached a crossroad in his progress, +accepted the invitation, and prepared himself reverently to +hear the will of God. Monseigneur Cripps lived in a little +Gothic house next to St. Joseph's, a trim little Gothic house +covered with the oiled curls of an ampelopsis still undyed by +autumn's henna.</p> + +<p>"You've chosen a bad day to come to lunch," said Monseigneur +with a warning shake of the head. "It's Friday, +you know. And it's hard to get decent fish away from the +big towns."</p> + +<p>While his host went off to consult the housekeeper about +the extra place for lunch, a proceeding which induced him +to make a joke about extra 'plaice' and extra 'place,' at which +he laughed heartily, Mark considered the most tactful way +of leading up to a discussion of the position of the Anglican +Church in regard to Roman claims. It should not be difficult, +he supposed, because Monseigneur at the first hint of +his guest's desire to be converted would no doubt welcome +the topic. But when Monseigneur led the way to his little +Gothic dining-room full of Arundel prints, Mark soon apprehended +that his host had evidently not had the slightest +notion of offering an <i>ad hoc</i> hospitality. He paid no attention +to Mark's tentative advances, and if he was willing to talk +about Rome, it was only because he had just paid a visit there +in connexion with a school of which he was a trustee and out +of which he wanted to make one kind of school and the +Roman Catholic Bishop of Dudley wanted to make another.</p> + +<p>"I had to take the whole question to headquarters," Monseigneur +explained impressively. "But I was disappointed +by Rome, oh yes, I was very disappointed. When I was a +young man I saw it <i>couleur de rose</i>. I did enjoy one thing +though, and that was going round the Vatican. Yes, they +looked remarkably smart, the Papal Guards; as soon as they +saw I was <i>Monsignore</i>, they turned out and presented arms. +I'm bound to admit that I <i>was</i> impressed by that. But on +the way down I lost my pipe in the train. And do you think +I could buy a decent pipe in Rome? I actually had to pay +five <i>lire</i>—or was it six?—for this inadequate tube."</p> + +<p>He produced from his pocket the pipe he had been compelled +to buy, a curved briar all varnish and gold lettering.</p> + +<p>"I've been badly treated in Wield. Certainly, they made +me Monseigneur. But then they couldn't very well do less +after I built this church. We've been successful here. And +I venture to think popular. But the Bishop is in the hands +of the Irish. He cannot grasp that the English people will +not have Irish priests to rule them. They don't like it, and +I don't blame them. You're not Irish, are you?"</p> + +<p>Mark reassured him.</p> + +<p>"This plaice isn't bad, eh? I ordered turbot, but you +never get the fish you order in these Midland towns. It +always ends in my having plaice, which is good for the soul! +Ha-ha! I hate the Irish myself. This school of which I +am the chief trustee was intended to be a Catholic reformatory. +That idea fell through, and now my notion is to turn +it into a decent school run by secular clergy. All the English +Catholic schools are in the hands of the regular clergy, which +is a mistake. It puts too much power in the hands of the +Benedictines and the Jesuits and the rest of them. After all, +the great strength of the Catholic Church in England will +always be the secular clergy. And what do we get now? A +lot of objectionable Irishmen in Trilby hats. Last time I saw +the Bishop I gave him my frank opinion of his policy. I +told him my opinion to his face. He won't get me to kowtow +to him. Yes, I said to him that, if he handed over this +school to the Dominicans, he was going to spoil one of the +finest opportunities ever presented of educating the sons of +decent English gentlemen to be simple parish priests. But +the Bishop of Dudley is an Irishman himself. He can't think +of anything educationally better than Ushaw. And, as I was +telling you, I saw there was nothing for it but to take the +whole matter right up to headquarters, that is to Rome. Did +I tell you that the Papal Guards turned out and presented +arms? Ah, I remember now, I did mention it. I was extraordinarily +impressed by them. A fine body. But generally +speaking, Rome disappointed me after many years. Of +course we English Catholics don't understand that way of +worshipping. I'm not criticizing it. I realize that it suits +the Italians. But suppose I started clearing my throat in the +middle of Mass? My congregation would be disgusted, and +rightly. It's an astonishing thing that I couldn't buy a good +pipe in Rome, don't you think? I must have lost mine when +I got out of the carriage to look at the leaning tower of Pisa, +and my other one got clogged up with some candle grease. +I couldn't get the beastly stuff out, so I had to give the pipe +to a porter. They're keen on English pipes, those Italian +porters. Poor devils, I'm not surprised. Of course, I need +hardly say that in Rome they promised to do everything for +me; but you can't trust them when your back is turned, and +I need hardly add that the Bishop was pulling strings all +the time. They showed me one of his letters, which was a +tissue of mis-statements—a regular tissue. Now, suppose +you had a son and you wanted him to be a priest? You don't +necessarily want him to become a Jesuit or a Benedictine or +a Dominican. Where can you send him now? Stonyhurst, +Downside, Beaumont. There isn't a single decent school +run by the secular clergy. You know what I mean? A +school for the sons of gentlemen—a public school. We've +got magnificent buildings, grounds, everything you could +wish. I've been promised all the money necessary, and then +the Bishop of Dudley steps in and says that these Dominicans +ought to take it on."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I've somehow given you a wrong impression," +Mark interposed when Monseigneur Cripps at last filled his +mouth with plaice. "I'm not a Roman Catholic."</p> + +<p>"Oh, aren't you?" said Monseigneur indifferently. "Never +mind, I expect you see my point about the necessity for the +school to be run by secular clergy. Did I tell you how I +got the land for my church here? That's rather an interesting +story. It belonged to Lord Evesham who, as perhaps +you may know, is very anti-Catholic, but a thorough good +sportsman. We always get on capitally together. Well, one +day I said to his agent, Captain Hart: 'What about this +land, Hart? Don't you think you could get it out of his +lordship?' 'It's no good, Father Cripps,' said Hart—I wasn't +Monseigneur then of course—'It's no good,' he said, 'his +lordship absolutely declines to let his land be used for a +Catholic church.' 'Come along, Hart,' I said, 'let's have a +round of golf.' Well, when we got to the eighteenth hole we +were all square, and we'd both of us gone round three better +than bogie and broken our own records. I was on the green +with my second shot, and holed out in three. 'My game,' +I shouted because Hart had foozled his drive and wasn't on +the green. 'Not at all,' he said. 'You shouldn't be in such +a hurry. I may hole out in one,' he laughed. 'If you do,' I +said, 'you ought to get Lord Evesham to give me that land.' +'That's a bargain,' he said, and he took his mashie. Will +you believe it? He did the hole in two, sir, won the game, +and beat the record for the course! And that's how I got +the land to build my church. I was delighted! I was delighted! +I've told that story everywhere to show what +sportsmen are. I told it to the Bishop, but of course he being +an Irishman didn't see anything funny in it. If he could +have stopped my being made Monseigneur, he'd have done so. +But he couldn't."</p> + +<p>"You seem to have as much trouble with your bishops as +we do with ours in the Anglican Church," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"We shouldn't, if we made the right men bishops," said +Monseigneur. "But so long as they think at Westminster +that we're going to convert England with a tagrag and bobtail +mob of Irish priests, we never shall make the right men. +You were looking round my church just now. Didn't it +remind you of an English church?"</p> + +<p>Mark agreed that it did very much.</p> + +<p>"That's my secret: that's why I've been the most successful +mission priest in this diocese. I realize as an Englishman +that it is no use to give the English Irish Catholicism. When +I was in Rome the other day I was disgusted, I really was. +I was disgusted. I thoroughly sympathize with Protestants +who go there and are disgusted. You cannot expect a decent +English family to confess to an Irish peasant. It's not reasonable. +We want to create an English tradition."</p> + +<p>"What between the Roman party in the Anglican Church +and the Anglican party in the Roman Church," said Mark, +"It seems a pity that some kind of reunion cannot be effected."</p> + +<p>"So it could," Monseigneur declared. "So it could, if it +wasn't for the Irish. Look at the way we treat our English +converts. The clergy, I mean. Why? Because the Irish do +not want England to be converted."</p> + +<p>Mark did not raise with Monseigneur Cripps the question +of his doubts. Indeed, before the plaice had been taken +away he had decided that they no longer existed. It became +clear to him that the English Church was England; and although +he knew in his heart that Monseigneur Cripps was +suffering from a sense of grievance and that his criticism +of Roman policy was too obviously biased, it pleased him +to believe that it was a fair criticism.</p> + +<p>Mark thanked Monseigneur Cripps for his hospitality and +took a friendly leave of him. An hour later he was walking +back through the pleasant vale of Wield toward the Cotswolds. +As he went his way among the green orchards, he +thought over his late impulse to change allegiance, marvelling +at it now and considering it irrational, like one astonished at +his own behaviour in a dream. There came into his mind +a story of George Fox who drawing near to the city of +Lichfield took off his shoes in a meadow and cried three times +in a loud voice "Woe unto the bloody city of Lichfield," after +which he put on his shoes again and proceeded into the +town. Mark looked back in amazement at his lunch with +Monseigneur Cripps and his own meditated apostasy. To +his present mood that intention to forsake his own Church +appeared as remote from actuality as the malediction of +George Fox upon the city of Lichfield.</p> + +<p>Here among these green orchards in the heart of England +Roman Catholicism presented itself to Mark's imagination +as an exotic. The two words "Roman Catholicism" uttered +aloud in the quiet June sunlight gave him the sensation of +an allamanda or of a gardenia blossoming in an apple-tree. +People who talked about bringing the English Church into +line with the trend of Western Christianity lacked a sense +of history. Apart from the question whether the English +Church before the Reformation had accepted the pretensions +of the Papacy, it was absurd to suppose that contemporary +Romanism had anything in common with English Catholicism +of the early sixteenth century. English Catholicism long +before the Reformation had been a Protestant Catholicism, +always in revolt against Roman claims, always preserving its +insularity. It was idle to question the Catholic intentions of +a priesthood that could produce within a century of the +Reformation such prelates as Andrews and Ken. It was +ridiculous at the prompting of the party in the ascendancy +at Westminster to procure a Papal decision against English +Orders when two hundred and fifty years ago there was a +cardinal's hat waiting for Laud if he would leave the Church +of England. And what about Paul IV and Elizabeth? Was +he not willing to recognize English Orders if she would +recognize his headship of Christendom?</p> + +<p>But these were controversial arguments, and as Mark +walked along through the pleasant vale of Wield with the +Cotswold hills rising taller before him at every mile he +apprehended that his adhesion to the English Church had +been secured by the natural scene rather than by argument. +Nevertheless, it was interesting to speculate why Romanism +had not made more progress in England, why even now with +a hierarchy and with such a distinguished line of converts +beginning with Newman it remained so completely out of +touch with the national life of the country. While the +Romans converted one soul to Catholicism, the inheritors of +the Oxford Movement were converting twenty. Catholicism +must be accounted a disposition of mind, an attitude toward +life that did not necessarily imply all that was implied by +Roman Catholicism. What was the secret of the Roman +failure? Everywhere else in the world Roman Catholicism +had known how to adapt itself to national needs; only in +England did it remain exotic. It was like an Anglo-Indian +magnate who returns to find himself of no importance in +his native land, and who but for the flavour of his curries +and perhaps a black servant or two would be utterly inconspicuous. +He tries to fit in with the new conditions of his +readopted country, but he remains an exotic and is regarded +by his neighbours as one to whom the lesson must be taught +that he is no longer of importance. What had been the cause +of this breach in the Roman Catholic tradition, this curious +incompetency, this Anglo-Indian conservatism and pretentiousness? +Perhaps it had begun when in the seventeenth +century the propagation of Roman Catholicism in England +was handed over to the Jesuits, who mismanaged the country +hopelessly. By the time Rome had perceived that the conversion +of England could not be left to the Jesuits the harm +was done, so that when with greater toleration the time was +ripe to expand her organization it was necessary to recruit +her priests in Ireland. What the Jesuits had begun the Irish +completed. It had been amusing to listen to the lamentations +of Monseigneur Cripps; but Monseigneur Cripps had expressed, +however ludicrous his egoism, the failure of his +Church in England.</p> + +<p>Mark's statement of the Anglican position with nobody +to answer his arguments except the trees and the hedgerows +seemed flawless. The level road, the gentle breeze in the +orchards on either side, the scent of the grass, and the busy +chirping of the birds coincided with the main point of his +argument that England was most inexpressibly Anglican and +that Roman Catholicism was most unmistakably not. His +arguments were really hasty foot-notes to his convictions; +if each one had separately been proved wrong, that would +have had no influence on the point of view he had reached. +He forgot that this very landscape that was seeming incomparable +England herself had yesterday appeared complacent +and monotonous. In fact he was as bad as George Fox, +who after taking off his shoes to curse the bloody city of +Lichfield should only have put them on again to walk away +from it.</p> + +<p>The grey road was by now beginning to climb the foothills +of the Cotswolds; a yellow-hammer, keeping always a +few paces ahead, twittered from quickset boughs nine encouraging +notes that drowned the echoes of ancient +controversies. In such a countryside no claims papal or +episcopal possessed the least importance; and Mark dismissed +the subject from his mind, abandoning himself to the pleasure +of the slow ascent. Looking back after a while he could +see the town of Wield riding like a ship in a sea of verdure, +and when he surveyed thus England asleep in the sunlight, +the old ambition to become a preaching friar was kindled +again in his heart. He would re-establish the extinct and +absolutely English Order of St. Gilbert so that there should +be no question of Roman pretensions. Doubtless, St. +Francis himself would understand a revival of his Order +without reference to existing Franciscans; but nobody else +would understand, and it would be foolish to insist upon +being a Franciscan if the rest of the Order disowned him +and his followers. If anybody had asked Mark at that moment +why he wanted to restore the preaching friars, he might +have found it difficult to answer. He was by no means +imbued with the missionary spirit just then; his experience +at Chatsea had made him pessimistic about missionary effort +in the Church of England. If a man like Father Rowley had +failed to win the support of his ecclesiastical superiors, Mark, +who possessed more humility than is usual at twenty-one, +did not fancy that he should be successful. The ambition +to become a friar was revived by an incomprehensible, or +if not incomprehensible, certainly by an inexplicable impulse +to put himself in tune with the landscape, to proclaim as it +were on behalf of that dumb heart of England beating down +there in the flowery Vale of Wield: <i>God rest you merry +gentlemen, let nothing you dismay!</i> There was revealed to +him with the assurance of absolute faith that all the sorrows, +all the ugliness, all the soullessness (no other word could +be found) of England in the first year of the twentieth century +was due to the Reformation; the desire to become a +preaching friar was the dramatic expression of this inspired +conviction. Before his journey through the Vale of Wield +Mark in any discussion would have been ready to argue the +mistake of the Reformation: but now there was no longer +room for argument. What formerly he thought now he +knew. The song of the yellow-hammer was louder in the +quickset hedge; the trees burned with a sharper green; the +road urged his feet.</p> + +<p>"If only everybody in England could move as I am moving +now," he thought. "If only I could be granted the power to +show a few people, so that they could show others, and those +others show all the world. How confidently that yellow-hammer +repeats his song! How well he knows that his song +is right! How little he envies the linnet and how little the +linnet envies him! The fools that talk of nature's cruelty, +the blind fatuous sentimental coxcombs!"</p> + +<p>Thus apostrophizing, Mark came to a wayside inn; discovering +that he was hungry, he took his seat at a rustic table +outside and called for bread and cheese and beer. While he +was eating, a vehicle approached from the direction in which +he would soon be travelling. He took it at first for a caravan +of gipsies, but when it grew near he saw that it was painted +over with minatory texts and was evidently the vehicle of +itinerant gospellers. Two young men alighted from the +caravan when it pulled up before the door of the inn. They +were long-nosed sallow creatures with that expression of +complacency which organized morality too often produces, +and in this quiet countryside they gave an effect of being +overgrown Sunday-school scholars upon their annual outing. +Having cast a censorious glance in the direction of Mark's +jug of ale, they sat down at the farther end of the bench and +ordered food.</p> + +<p>"The preaching friars of to-day," Mark thought gloomily.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," said one of the gospellers. "I notice you've +been looking very hard at our van. Excuse me, but are you +saved?"</p> + +<p>"No, are you?" Mark countered with an angry blush.</p> + +<p>"We are," the gospeller proclaimed. "Or I and Mr. +Smillie here," he indicated his companion, "wouldn't be +travelling round trying to save others. Here, read this +tract, my friend. Don't hurry over it. We can wait all day +and all night to bring one wandering soul to Jesus."</p> + +<p>Mark looked at the young men curiously; perceiving that +they were sincere, he accepted the tract and out of courtesy +perused it. The tale therein enfolded reminded him of a +narrative testifying to the efficacy of a patent medicine. The +process of conversation followed a stereotyped formula.</p> + +<p><i>For three and a half years I was unable to keep down +any sins for more than five minutes after I had committed +the last one. I had a dizzy feeling in the heart and a sharp +pain in the small of the soul. A friend of mine recommended +me to try the good minister in the slum. . . . After the +first text I was able to keep down my sins for six minutes . . . +after twenty-two bottles I am as good as I ever was. . . . +I ascribe my salvation entirely to</i>. . . . Mark +handed back the tract with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Do you convert many people with this literature?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"We don't often convert a soul right off," said Mr. Smillie. +"But we sow the good seed, if you follow my meaning; and +we leave the rest to Jesus. Mr. Bullock and I have handed +over seven hundred tracts in three weeks, and we know that +they won't all fall on stony ground or be choked by tares +and thistles."</p> + +<p>"Do you mind my asking you a question?" Mark said.</p> + +<p>The gospel bearers craned their necks like hungry fowls +in their eagerness to peck at any problems Mark felt inclined +to scatter before them. A ludicrous fancy passed through his +mind that much of the good seed was pecked up by the +scatterers.</p> + +<p>"What are you trying to convert people to?" Mark solemnly +inquired.</p> + +<p>"What are we trying to convert people to?" echoed Mr. +Bullock and Mr. Smillie in unison. Then the former became +eloquent. "We're trying to wash ignorant people in the blood +of the Lamb. We're converting them from the outer darkness, +where there is weeping and wailing and gnashing of +teeth, to be rocked safe for ever in the arms of Jesus. If +you'd have read that tract I handed you a bit more slowly +and a bit more carefully, you wouldn't have had any call to +ask a question like that."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I framed my question rather badly," Mark admitted. +"I understand that you want to bring people to +believe in Our Lord; but when by a tract or by a personal +exhortation or by an emotional appeal you've induced them +to suppose that they are converted, or as you put it saved, +what more do you give them?"</p> + +<p>"What more do we give them?" Mr. Smillie shrilled. +"What more can we give them after we've given them Christ +Jesus? We're sitting here offering you Christ Jesus at this +moment. You're sitting there mocking at us. But Mr. +Bullock and me don't mind how much you mock. We're +ready to stay here for hours if we can bring you safe to the +bosom of Emmanuel."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but suppose I told you that I believe in Our Lord +Jesus Christ without any persuasion from you?" Mark +inquired.</p> + +<p>"Well, then you're saved," said Mr. Bullock decidedly. +"And you can ask the landlord for our bill, Mr. Smillie."</p> + +<p>"But is nothing more necessary?" Mark persisted.</p> + +<p>"<i>By faith are ye justified</i>," Mr. Bullock and Mr. Smillie +shouted simultaneously.</p> + +<p>Mark paused for a moment to consider whether argument +was worth while, and then he returned to the attack.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I think that people like you do a great deal +of damage to Christianity. You only flatter human conceit. +You get hold of some emotional creature and work upon his +feelings until in an access of self-absorption he feels that +the universe is standing still while the necessary measures +are taken to secure his personal salvation. You flatter this +poor soul, and then you go away and leave him to work out +his own salvation."</p> + +<p>"If you're dwelling in Christ Jesus and Christ Jesus is +dwelling in you, you haven't got to work out your own salvation. +He worked out your salvation on the Cross," said Mr. +Bullock contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"And you think that nothing more is necessary from a +man? It seems to me that the religion you preach is fatal +to human character. I'm not trying to be offensive when +I tell you that it's the religion of a tapeworm. It's a religion +for parasites. It's a religion which ignores the Holy Ghost."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'll explain your assertion a little more fully?" +Mr. Bullock invited with a scowl.</p> + +<p>"What I mean is that, if Our Lord's Atonement removed +all responsibility from human nature, there doesn't seem +much for the Holy Ghost to do, does there?"</p> + +<p>"Well, as it happens," said Mr. Bullock sarcastically, "Mr. +Smillie and I here do most of our work with the help of the +Holy Ghost, so you've hit on a bad example to work off your +sneers on."</p> + +<p>"I'm not trying to sneer," Mark protested. "But strangely +enough just before you came along I was thinking to myself +how much I should like to travel over England preaching +about Our Lord, because I think that England has need of +Him. But I also think, now you've answered my question, +that <i>you</i> are doing more harm than good by your interpretation +of the Holy Ghost."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Smillie," interrupted Mr. Bullock in an elaborately +off-hand voice, "if you've counted the change and it's all correct, +we'd better get a move on. Let's gird up our loins, +Mr. Smillie, and not sit wrestling here with infidels."</p> + +<p>"No, really, you must allow me," Mark persisted. "You've +had it so much your own way with your tracts and your +talks this last few weeks that by now you must be in need +of a sermon yourselves. The gospel you preach is only going +to add to the complacency of England, and England is too +complacent already. All Northern nations are, which is why +they are Protestant. They demand a religion which will +truckle to them, a religion which will allow them to devote +six days of the week to what is called business and on the +seventh day to rest and praise God that they are not as other +men."</p> + +<p>"<i>Render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's and unto +God the things that are God's</i>," said Mr. Smillie, putting the +change in his pocket and untying the nosebag from the horse.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ye cannot serve God and mammon</i>," Mark retorted. +"And I wish you'd let me finish my argument."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Smillie and I aren't touring the Midlands trying to +find grapes on thorns and figs on thistles," said Mr. Bullock +scathingly. "We'd have given you a chance, if you'd have +shown any fruits of the Spirit."</p> + +<p>"You've just said you weren't looking for grapes or figs," +Mark laughed. "I'm sorry I've made you so cross. But you +began the argument by asking me if I was saved. Think how +annoyed you would have been if I had begun a conversation +by asking you if you were washed."</p> + +<p>"My last words to you is," said Mr. Bullock solemnly, +looking out of the caravan window, "my last words to you +are," he corrected himself, "is to avoid beer. You can +touch up the horse, Mr. Smillie."</p> + +<p>"I'll come and touch you up, you big-mouthed Bible +thumpers," a rich voice shouted from the inn door. "Yes, +you sit outside my public-house and swill minerals when +you're so full of gas already you could light a corporation +gasworks. Avoid beer, you walking bellows? Step down +out of that travelling menagerie, and I'll give you 'avoid +beer.' You'll avoid more than beer before I've finished with +you."</p> + +<p>But the gospel bearers without paying any attention to the +tirade went on their way; and Mark who did not wait to +listen to the innkeeper's abuse of all religion and all religious +people went on his way in the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>Swinging homeward over the Cotswolds Mark flattered +himself on a victory over heretics, and he imagined his adversaries +entering Wield that afternoon, the prey of doubt and +mortification. At the highest point of the road he even ventured +to suppose that they might find themselves at Evensong +outside St. Andrew's Church and led within by the grace +of the Holy Spirit that they might renounce their errors +before the altar. Indeed, it was not until he was back in +the Rectory that the futility of his own bearing overwhelmed +him with shame. Anxious to atone for his self-conceit, Mark +gave the Rector an account of the incident.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that I behaved very feebly, don't you +think?"</p> + +<p>"That kind of fellow is a hard nut to crack," the Rector +said consolingly. "And you can't expect just by quoting text +against text to effect an instant conversion. Don't forget +that your friends are in their way as great enthusiasts probably +as yourself."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but it's humiliating to be imagining oneself leading +a revival of the preaching friars and then to behave like that. +What strikes me now, when it's too late, is that I ought to +have waited and taken the opportunity to tackle the innkeeper. +He was just the ordinary man who supposes that +religion is his natural enemy. You must admit that I missed +a chance there."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to check your missionary zeal," said the +Rector. "But I really don't think you need worry yourself +about an omission of that kind so long before you are +ordained. If I didn't know you as well as I do, I might even +be inclined to consider such a passion for souls at your age +a little morbid. I wish with all my heart you'd gone to +Oxford," he added with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Well, really, do you know," said Mark, "I don't regret +that. Whatever may be the advantages of a public school +and university, the education hampers one. One becomes +identified with a class; and when one has finished with that +education, the next two or three years have to be spent +in discovering that public school and university men form a +very small proportion of the world's population. Sometimes +I almost regret that my mother did not let me acquire that +Cockney accent. You can say a lot of things in a Cockney +accent which said without any accent sound priggish. You +must admit, Rector, that your inner comment on my tale +of the gospellers and the innkeeper is 'Dear me! I am afraid +Mark's turning into a prig.'"</p> + +<p>"No, no. I laid particular stress on the point that if I +didn't know you as well as I do I might perhaps have thought +that," the Rector protested.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I am a prig," Mark went on slowly. "I +don't think I have enough confidence in myself to be a prig. +I think the way I argued with Mr. Bullock and Mr. Smillie +was a bit priggish, because at the back of my head all the +time I was talking I felt in addition to the arrogance of faith +a kind of confounded snobbishness; and this sense of +superiority came not from my being a member of the Church, +but from feeling myself more civilized than they were. +Looking back now at the conversation, I can remember that +actually at the very moment I was talking of the Holy Ghost +I was noticing how Mr. Bullock's dicky would keep escaping +from his waistcoat. I wonder if the great missionary saints +of the middle ages had to contend with this accumulation of +social conventions with which we are faced nowadays. It +seems to me that in everything—in art, in religion, in mere +ordinary everyday life and living—man is adding daily to +the wall that separates him from God."</p> + +<p>"H'm, yes," said the Rector, "all this only means that you +are growing up. The child is nearer to God than the man. +Wordsworth said it better than I can say it. Similarly, the +human race must grow away from God as it takes upon +itself the burden of knowledge. That surely is inherent in +the fall of man. No philosopher has yet improved upon the +first chapter of Genesis as a symbolical explanation of +humanity's plight. When man was created—or if you like +to put it evolved—there must have been an exact moment at +which he had the chance of remaining where he was—in +other words, in the Garden of Eden—or of developing +further along his own lines with free will. Satan fell from +pride. It is natural to assume that man, being tempted by +Satan, would fall from the same sin, though the occasion, +of his fall might be the less heroic sin of curiosity. Yes, +I think that first chapter of Genesis, as an attempt to sum +up the history of millions of years, is astoundingly complete. +Have you ever thought how far by now the world would +have grown away from God without the Incarnation?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mark, "and after nineteen hundred years how +little nearer it has grown."</p> + +<p>"My dear boy," said the Rector, "if man has not even yet +got rid of rudimentary gills or useless paps he is not going +to grow very visibly nearer to God in nineteen hundred years +after growing away from God for ninety million. Yet such +is the mercy of our Father in Heaven that, infinitely remote +as we have grown from Him, we are still made in His image, +and in childhood we are allowed a few years of blessed +innocency. To some children—and you were one of them—God +reveals Himself more directly. But don't, my dear +fellow, grow up imagining that these visions you were +accorded as a boy will be accorded to you all through your +life. You may succeed in remaining pure in act, but you +will find it hard to remain pure in heart. To me the most +frightening beatitude is <i>Blessed are the pure in heart, for +they shall see God.</i> What your present state of mind really +amounts to is lack of hope, for as soon as you find yourself +unable to be as miraculously eloquent as St. Anthony of +Padua you become the prey of despair."</p> + +<p>"I am not so foolish as that," Mark replied. "But surely, +Rector, it behoves me during these years before my ordination +to criticize myself severely."</p> + +<p>"As severely as you like," the Rector agreed, "provided +that you only criticize yourself, and don't criticize Almighty +God."</p> + +<p>"But surely," Mark went on, "I ought to be asking myself +now that I am twenty-one how I shall best occupy the next +three years?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," the Rector assented. "Think it over, and be +sure that, when you have thought it over and have made +your decision with the help of prayer, I shall be the first +to support that decision in every way possible. Even if you +decide to be a preaching friar," he added with a smile. "And +now I have some news for you. Esther arrives here tomorrow +to stay with us for a fortnight before she is professed."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII" />CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>SISTER ESTHER MAGDALENE</h3> + + +<p>Esther's novitiate in the community of St. Mary Magdalene, +Shoreditch, had lasted six months longer than +was usual, because the Mother Superior while never doubting +her vocation for the religious life had feared for her +ability to stand the strain of that work among penitents to +which the community was dedicated. In the end, her perseverance +had been rewarded, and the day of her profession +was at hand.</p> + +<p>During the whole of her nearly four years' novitiate +Esther had not been home once; although Mark and she had +corresponded at long intervals, their letters had been nothing +more than formal records of minor events, and on St. John's +eve he drove with the dogcart to meet her, wondering all +the way how much she would have changed. The first thing +that struck him when he saw her alight from the train on +Shipcot platform was her neatness. In old days with windblown +hair and clothes flung on anyhow she had belonged so +unmistakably to the open air. Now in her grey habit and +white veil of the novice she was as tranquil as Miriam, and +for the first time Mark perceived a resemblance between the +sisters. Her complexion, which formerly was flushed and +much freckled by the open air, was now like alabaster; and +although her auburn hair was hidden beneath the veil Mark +was aware of it like a hidden fire. He had in the very +moment of welcoming her a swift vision of that auburn hair +lying on the steps of the altar a fortnight hence, and he was +filled with a wild desire to be present at her profession and +gathering up the shorn locks to let them run through his +fingers like flames. He had no time to be astonished at himself +before they were shaking hands.</p> + +<p>"Why, Esther," he laughed, "you're carrying an umbrella."</p> + +<p>"It was raining in London," she said gravely.</p> + +<p>He was on the point of exclaiming at such prudence in +Esther when he blushed in the remembrance that she was a +nun. During the drive back they talked shyly about the +characters of the village and the Rectory animals.</p> + +<p>"I feel as if you'd just come back from school for the +holidays," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I feel as if I'd been at school," she agreed. "How +sweet the country smells."</p> + +<p>"Don't you miss the country sometimes in Shoreditch?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head and looked at him with puzzled eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why should I miss anything in Shoreditch?"</p> + +<p>Mark was abashed and silent for the rest of the drive, +because he fancied that Esther might have supposed that he +was referring to the past, rather than give which impression +he would have cut out his tongue. When they reached the +Rectory, Mark was moved almost to tears by the greetings.</p> + +<p>"Dear little sister," Miriam murmured. "How happy we +are to have you with us again."</p> + +<p>"Dear child," said Mrs. Ogilvie. "And really she does +look like a nun."</p> + +<p>"My dearest girl, we have missed you every moment of +these four years," said the Rector, bending to kiss her. +"How cold your cheek is."</p> + +<p>"It was quite chilly driving," said Mark quickly, for there +had come upon him a sudden dismay lest they should think +she was a ghost. He was relieved when Miriam announced +tea half an hour earlier than usual in honour of Esther's +arrival; it seemed to prove that to her family she was still +alive.</p> + +<p>"After tea I'm going to Wych Maries to pick St. John's +wort for the church. Would you like to walk as far?" Mark +suggested, and then stood speechless, horrified at his want of +tact. He had the presence of mind not to excuse himself, +and he was grateful to Esther when she replied in a calm +voice that she should like a walk after tea.</p> + +<p>When the opportunity presented itself, Mark apologized +for his suggestion.</p> + +<p>"By why apologize?" she asked. "I assure you I'm not +at all tired and I really should like to walk to Wych Maries."</p> + +<p>He was amazed at her self-possession, and they walked +along with unhastening conventual steps to where the St. +John's wort grew amid a tangle of ground ivy in the open +spaces of a cypress grove, appearing most vividly and richly +golden like sunlight breaking from black clouds in the western +sky.</p> + +<p>"Gather some sprays quickly, Sister Esther Magdalene," +Mark advised. "And you will be safe against the demons +of this night when evil has such power."</p> + +<p>"Are we ever safe against the demons of the night?" she +asked solemnly. "And has not evil great power always?"</p> + +<p>"Always," he assented in a voice that trembled to a sigh, +like the uncertain wind that comes hesitating at dusk in the +woods. "Always," he repeated.</p> + +<p>As he spoke Mark fell upon his knees among the holy +flowers, for there had come upon him temptation; and the +sombre trees standing round watched him like fiends with +folded wings.</p> + +<p>"Go to the chapel," he cried in an agony.</p> + +<p>"Mark, what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Go to the chapel. For God's sake, Esther, don't wait."</p> + +<p>In another moment he felt that he should tear the white +veil from her forehead and set loose her auburn hair.</p> + +<p>"Mark, are you ill?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do what I ask," he begged. "Once I prayed for you +here. Pray for me now."</p> + +<p>At that moment she understood, and putting her hands +to her eyes she stumbled blindly toward the ruined church of +the two Maries, heavily too, because she was encumbered by +her holy garb. When she was gone and the last rustle of her +footsteps had died away upon the mid-summer silence, Mark +buried his body in the golden flowers.</p> + +<p>"How can I ever look any of them in the face again?" he +cried aloud. "Small wonder that yesterday I was so futile. +Small wonder indeed! And of all women, to think that I +should fall in love with Esther. If I had fallen in love with +her four years ago . . . but now when she is going to be +professed . . . suddenly without any warning . . . without +any warning . . . yet perhaps I did love her in those days +. . . and was jealous. . . ."</p> + +<p>And even while Mark poured forth his horror of himself +he held her image to his heart.</p> + +<p>"I thought she was a ghost because she was dead to me, +not because she was dead to them. She is not a ghost to +them. And is she to me?"</p> + +<p>He leapt to his feet, listening.</p> + +<p>"Should she come back," he thought with beating heart. +"Should she come back . . . I love her . . . she hasn't +taken her final vows . . . might she not love me? No," he +shouted at the top of his voice. "I will not do as my father +did . . . I will not . . . I will not. . . ."</p> + +<p>Mark felt sure of himself again: he felt as he used to +feel as a little boy when his mother entered on a shaft of +light to console his childish terrors. When he came to the +ruined chapel and saw Esther standing with uplifted palms +before the image of St. Mary Magdalene long since put back +upon the pedestal from which it had been flung by the squire +of Rushbrooke Grange, Mark was himself again.</p> + +<p>"My dear," Esther cried, impulsively taking his hand. +"You frightened me. What was the matter?"</p> + +<p>He did not answer for a moment or two, because he wanted +her to hold his hand a little while longer, so much time was +to come when she would never hold it.</p> + +<p>"Whenever I dip my hand in cold water," he said at last, +"I shall think of you. Why did you say that about the +demons of the night?"</p> + +<p>She dropped his hand in comprehension.</p> + +<p>"You're disgusted with me," he murmured. "I'm not +surprised."</p> + +<p>"No, no, you mustn't think of me like that. I'm still a +very human Esther, so human that the Reverend Mother +has made me wait an extra year to be professed. But, Mark +dear, can't you understand, you who know what I endured +in this place, that I am sometimes tempted by memories of +him, that I sometimes sin by regrets for giving him up, my +dead lover so near to me in this place. My dead love," she +sighed to herself, "to whose memory in my pride of piety I +thought I should be utterly indifferent."</p> + +<p>A spasm of jealousy had shaken Mark while Esther was +speaking, but by the time she had finished he had fought it +down.</p> + +<p>"I think I must have loved you all this time," he told her.</p> + +<p>"Mark dear, I'm ten years older than you. I'm going to +be a nun for what of my life remains. And I can never love +anybody else. Don't make this visit of mine a misery to me. +I've had to conquer so much and I need your prayers."</p> + +<p>"I wish you needed my kisses."</p> + +<p>"Mark!"</p> + +<p>"What did I say? Oh, Esther, I'm a brute. Tell me one +thing."</p> + +<p>"I've already told you more than I've told anyone except +my confessor."</p> + +<p>"Have you found happiness in the religious life?"</p> + +<p>"I have found myself. The Reverend Mother wanted me +to leave the community and enter a contemplative order. She +did not think I should be able to help poor girls."</p> + +<p>"Esther, what a stupid woman! Why surely you would +be wonderful with them?"</p> + +<p>"I think she is a wise woman," said Esther. "I think since +we came picking St. John's wort I understand how wise +she is."</p> + +<p>"Esther, dear dear Esther, you make me feel more than +ever ashamed of myself. I entreat you not to believe what +the Reverend Mother says."</p> + +<p>"You have only a fortnight to convince me," said Esther.</p> + +<p>"And I will convince you."</p> + +<p>"Mark, do you remember when you made me pray for his +soul telling me that in that brief second he had time to +repent?"</p> + +<p>Mark nodded grimly.</p> + +<p>"You still do think that, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do. He must have repented."</p> + +<p>She thanked him with her eyes; and Mark looking into +their depths of hope unfathomable put away from him the +thought that the damned soul of Will Starling was abroad +to-night with power of evil. Yes, he put this thought behind +him; but carrying an armful of St. John's wort to hang in +sprays above the doors of the church he could not rid himself +of the fancy that his arms were filled with Esther's auburn +hair.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII" />CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>MALFORD ABBEY</h3> + + +<p>Mark left Wych-on-the-Wold next day; although he did +not announce that he should be absent from home so +long, he intended not to return until Esther had gone back +to Shoreditch. He hoped that he was not being cowardly in +thus running away; but after having assured Esther that +she could count on his behaving normally for the rest of her +visit, he found his sleep that night so profoundly disturbed +by feverish visions that when morning came he dreaded his +inability to behave as both he would wish himself and she +would wish him to behave. Flight seemed the only way to +find peace. He was shocked not so much by being in love +with Esther, but by the suddenness with which his desires +had overwhelmed him, desires which had never been roused +since he was born. If in an instant he could be turned upside +down like that, could he be sure that upon the next +occasion, supposing that he fell in love with somebody more +suitable, he should be able to escape so easily? His father +must have married his mother out of some such violent +impulse as had seized himself yesterday afternoon, and resentiment +about his weakness had spoilt his whole life. And +those dreams! How significant now were the words of the +Compline hymn, and how much it behoved a Christian soul +to vanquish these ill dreams against beholding which the +defence of the Creator was invoked. He had vowed celibacy; +yet already, three months after his twenty-first birthday, after +never once being troubled with the slightest hint that the +vow he had taken might be hard to keep, his security had +been threatened. How right the Rector had been about that +frightening beatitude.</p> + +<p>Mark had taken the direction of Wychford, and when he +reached the bridge at the bottom of the road from Wych-on-the-Wold +he thought he would turn aside and visit the Greys +whom he had not seen for a long time. He was conscious +of a curiosity to know if the feelings aroused by Esther +could be aroused by Monica or Margaret or Pauline. He +found the dear family unchanged and himself, so far as they +were concerned, equally unchanged and as much at his ease +as he had ever been.</p> + +<p>"And what are you going to do now?" one of them asked.</p> + +<p>"You mean immediately?"</p> + +<p>Mark could not bring himself to say that he did not know, +because such a reply would have seemed to link him with +the state of mind in which he had been thrown yesterday +afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Well, really, I was thinking of going into a monastery," +he announced.</p> + +<p>Pauline clapped her hands.</p> + +<p>"Now I think that is just what you ought to do," she said.</p> + +<p>Then followed questions about which Order he proposed +to join; and Mark ashamed to go back on what he had said +lest they should think him flippant answered that he thought +of joining the Order of St. George.</p> + +<p>"You know—Father Burrowes, who works among soldiers."</p> + +<p>When Mark was standing by the cross-roads above Wychford +and was wondering which to take, he decided that +really the best thing he could do at this moment was to try +to enter the Order of St. George. He might succeed in being +ordained without going to a theological college, or if the +Bishop insisted upon a theological course and he found that +he had a vocation for the religious life, he could go to Glastonbury +and rejoin the Order when he was a priest. It was +true that Father Rowley disapproved of Father Burrowes; +but he had never expressed more than a general disapproval, +and Mark was inclined to attribute his attitude to the prejudice +of a man of strong personality and definite methods +against another man of strong personality and definite +methods working on similar lines among similar people. +Mark remembered now that there had been a question at one +time of Father Burrowes' opening a priory in the next parish +to St. Agnes'. Probably that was the reason why Father +Rowley disapproved of him. Mark had heard the monk +preach on one occasion and had liked him. Outside the +pulpit, however, he knew nothing more of him than what he +had heard from soldiers staying in the Keppel Street Mission +House, who from Aldershot had visited Malford Abbey, the +mother house of the Order. The alternative to Malford was +Clere Abbey on the Berkshire downs where Dom Cuthbert +Manners ruled over a small community of strict Benedictines. +Had Mark really been convinced that he was likely to remain +a monk for the rest of his life, he would have chosen the +Benedictines; but he did not feel justified in presenting himself +for admission to Clere on what would seem impulse. +He hoped that if he was accepted by the Order of St. George +he should be given an opportunity to work at one of the +priories in Aldershot or Sandgate, and that the experience +he might expect to gain would help him later as a parish +priest. He could not confide in the Rector his reason for +wanting to subject himself to monastic discipline, and he +expected a good deal of opposition. It might be better to +write from whatever village he stayed in to-night and make +the announcement without going back at all. And this is +what in the end he decided to do.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Sun Inn,</p> + +<p>Ladingford.</p> + +<p>June 24.</p> + +<p>My dear Rector,</p> + +<p>I expect you gathered from our talk the day before yesterday +that I was feeling dissatisfied with myself, and you +must know that the problem of occupying my time wisely +before I am ordained has lately been on my mind. I don't +feel that I could honestly take up a profession to which I +had no intention of sticking, and though Father Rowley +recommended me to stay at home and work with the village +people I don't feel capable of doing that yet. If it was a +question of helping you by taking off your shoulders work +that I could do it would be another matter. But you've +often said to me that you had more time on your hands than +you cared for since you gave up coaching me for an Oxford +scholarship, and so I don't think I'm wrong in supposing +that you would find it hard to discover for me any parochial +routine work. I'm not old enough yet to fish for souls, and +I have no confidence in my ability to hook them. Besides, +I think it would bore you if I started "missionizing" in +Wych-on-the-Wold.</p> + +<p>I've settled therefore to try to get into the Order of St. +George. I don't think you know Father Burrowes personally, +but I've always heard that he does a splendid work +among soldiers, and I'm hoping that he will accept me as a +novice.</p> + +<p>Latterly, in fact since I left Chatsea, I've been feeling +the need of a regular existence, and, though I cannot pretend +that I have a vocation for the monastic life in the highest +sense, I do feel that I have a vocation for the Order of St. +George. You will wonder why I have not mentioned this +to you, but the fact is—and I hope you'll appreciate my +frankness—I did not think of the O.S.G. till this morning. +Of course they may refuse to have me. But I shall present +myself without a preliminary letter, and I hope to persuade +Father Burrowes to have me on probation. If he once does +that, I'm sure that I shall satisfy him. This sounds like +the letter of a conceited clerk. It must be the fault of this +horrible inn pen, which is like writing with a tooth-pick +dipped in a puddle! I thought it was best not to stay at +the Rectory, with Esther on the verge of her profession. +It wouldn't be fair to her at a time like this to make my +immediate future a matter of prime importance. So do +forgive my going off in this fashion. I suppose it's just +possible that some bishop will accept me for ordination from +Malford, though no doubt it's improbable. This will be a +matter to discuss with Father Burrowes later.</p> + +<p>Do forgive what looks like a most erratic course of procedure. +But I really should hate a long discussion, and if +I make a mistake I shall have had a lesson. It really is +essential for me to be tremendously occupied. I cannot say +more than this, but I do beg you to believe that I'm not +taking this apparently unpremeditated step without a very +strong reason. It's a kind of compromise with my ambition +to re-establish in the English Church an order of preaching +friars. I haven't yet given up that idea, but I'm sure that I +ought not to think about it seriously until I'm a priest.</p> + +<p>I'm staying here to-night after a glorious day's tramp, +and to-morrow morning I shall take the train and go by +Reading and Basingstoke to Malford. I'll write to you as +soon as I know if I'm accepted. My best love to everybody, +and please tell Esther that I shall think about her on St. +Mary Magdalene's Day.</p> + +<p>Yours always affectionately,</p> + +<p>Mark.</p></div> + +<p>To Esther he wrote by the same post:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>My dear Sister Esther Magdalene,</p> + +<p>Do not be angry with me for running away, and do not +despise me for trying to enter a monastery in such a mood. +I'm as much the prey of religion as you are. And I am +really horrified by the revelation of what I am capable of. +I saw in your eyes yesterday the passion of your soul for +Divine things. The memory of them awes me. Pray for +me, dear sister, that all my passion may be turned to the +service of God. Defend me to your brother, who will not +understand my behaviour.</p> + +<p>Mark.</p></div> + +<p>Three days later Mark wrote again to the Rector:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Abbey,</p> + +<p>Malford,</p> + +<p>Surrey.</p> + +<p>June 27th.</p> + +<p>My dear Rector,</p> + +<p>I do hope that you're not so much annoyed with me that +you don't want to hear anything about my monastic adventures. +However, if you are you can send back this long +letter unopened. I believe that is the proper way to show +one's disapproval by correspondence.</p> + +<p>I reached Malford yesterday afternoon, and after a jolly +walk between high hazel hedges for about two miles I +reached the Abbey. It doesn't quite fulfil one's preconceived +ideas of what an abbey should look like, but I suppose +it is the most practicable building that could be erected +with the amount of money that the Order had to spare for +what in a way is a luxury for a working order like this. +What it most resembles is three tin tabernacles put together +to form three sides of a square, the fourth and empty side +of which is by far the most beautiful, because it consists +of a glorious view over a foreground of woods, a middle-distance +of park land, and on the horizon the Hampshire +downs.</p> + +<p>I am an authority on this view, because I had to gaze +at it for about a quarter of an hour while I was waiting for +somebody to open the Abbey door. At last the porter, +Brother Lawrence, after taking a good look at me through +the grill, demanded what I wanted. When I said that I +wanted to be a monk, he looked very alarmed and hurried +away, leaving me to gaze at that view for another ten +minutes. He came back at last and let me in, informing me +in a somewhat adenoidish voice that the Reverend Brother +was busy in the garden and asking me to wait until he came +in. Brother Lawrence has a large, pock-marked face, and +while he is talking to anybody he stands with his right hand +in his left sleeve and his left hand in his right sleeve like +a Chinese mandarin or an old washer-woman with her arms +folded under her apron. You must make the most of my +descriptions in this letter, because if I am accepted as a +probationer I shan't be able to indulge in any more personalities +about my brethren.</p> + +<p>The guest-room like everything else in the monastery is +match-boarded; and while I was waiting in it the noise was +terrific, because some corrugated iron was being nailed on +the roof of a building just outside. I began to regret that +Brother Lawrence had opened the door at all and that he +had not left me in the cloisters, as by the way I discovered +that the space enclosed by the three tin tabernacles is called! +There was nothing to read in the guest-room except one +sheet of a six months' old newspaper which had been spread +on the table presumably for a guest to mend something with +glue. At last the Reverend Brother, looking most beautiful +in a white habit with a zucchetto of mauve velvet, came in +and welcomed me with much friendliness. I was surprised +to find somebody so young as Brother Dunstan in charge +of a monastery, especially as he said he was only a novice +as yet. It appears that all the bigwigs—or should I say +big-cowls?—are away at the moment on business of the +Order and that various changes are in the offing, the most +important being the giving up of their branch in Malta and +the consequent arrival of Brother George, of whom Brother +Dunstan spoke in a hushed voice. Father Burrowes, or the +Reverend Father as he is called, is preaching in the north +of England at the moment, and Brother Dunstan tells me +it is quite impossible for him to say anything, still less to do +anything, about my admission. However, he urged me to +stay on for the present as a guest, an invitation which I +accepted without hesitation. He had only just time to show +me my cell and the card of rules for guests when a bell rang +and, drawing his cowl over his head, he hurried off.</p> + +<p>After perusing the rules, I discovered that this was the +bell which rings a quarter of an hour before Vespers for +solemn silence. I hadn't the slightest idea where the chapel +was, and when I asked Brother Lawrence he glared at me +and put his finger to his mouth. I was not to be discouraged, +however, and in the end he showed me into the +ante-chapel which is curtained off from the quire. There +was only one other person in the ante-chapel, a florid, well-dressed +man with a rather mincing and fussy way of worshipping. +The monks led by Brother Lawrence (who is +not even a novice yet, but a postulant and wears a black +habit, without a hood, tied round the waist with a rope) +passed from the refectory through the ante-chapel into the +quire, and Vespers began. They used an arrangement called +"The Day Hours of the English Church," but beyond a few +extra antiphons there was very little difference from ordinary +Evening Prayer. After Vespers I had a simple and solemn +meal by myself, and I was wondering how I should get +hold of a book to pass away the evening, when Brother +Dunstan came in and asked me if I'd like to sit with the +brethren in the library until the bell rang for simple silence +a quarter of an hour before Compline at 9.15, after which +everybody—guests and monks—are expected to go to bed +in solemn silence. The difference between simple silence +and solemn silence is that you may ask necessary questions +and get necessary replies during simple silence; but as far +as I can make out, during solemn silence you wouldn't be +allowed to tell anybody that you were dying, or if you did +tell anybody, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it +until solemn silence was over.</p> + +<p>The other monks are Brother Jerome, the senior novice +after Brother Dunstan, a pious but rather dull young man +with fair hair and a squashed face, and Brother Raymond, +attractive and bird-like, and considered a great Romanizer +by the others. There is also Brother Walter, who is only +a probationer and is not even allowed wide sleeves and a +habit like Brother Lawrence, but has to wear a very moth-eaten +cassock with a black band tied round it. Brother +Walter had been marketing in High Thorpe (I wonder what +the Bishop of Silchester thought if he saw him in the neighbourhood +of the episcopal castle!) and having lost himself +on the way home he had arrived back late for Vespers and +was tremendously teased by the others in consequence. +Brother Walter is a tall excitable awkward creature with +black hair that sticks up on end and wide-open frightened +eyes. His cassock is much too short for him both in the +arms and in the legs; and as he has very large hands and +very large feet, his hands and feet look still larger in consequence. +They didn't talk about much that was interesting +during recreation. Brother Dunstan and Brother Raymond +were full of monkish jokes, at all of which Brother Walter +laughed in a very high voice—so loudly once that Brother +Jerome asked him if he would mind making less noise, as +he was reading Montalembert's Monks of the West, at which +Brother Walter fell into an abashed gloom.</p> + +<p>I asked who the visitor in the ante-chapel was and was +told that he was a Sir Charles Horner who owns the whole +of Malford and who has presented the Order with the +thirty acres on which the Abbey is built. Sir Charles is +evidently an ecclesiastically-minded person and, I should +imagine, rather pleased to be able to be the patron of a +monastic order.</p> + +<p>I will write you again when I have seen Father Burrowes. +For the moment I'm inclined to think that Malford is rather +playing at being monks; but as I said, the bigwigs are all +away. Brother Dunstan is a delightful fellow, yet I +shouldn't imagine that he would make a successful abbot +for long.</p> + +<p>I enjoyed Compline most of all my experiences during +the day, after which I retired to my cell and slept without +turning till the bell rang for Lauds and Prime, both said +as one office at six o'clock, after which I should have liked a +conventual Mass. But alas, there is no priest here and I +have been spending the time till breakfast by writing you +this endless letter.</p> + +<p>Yours ever affectionately,</p> + +<p>Mark.</p> + +<p>P.S. They don't say Mattins, which I'm inclined to think +rather slack. But I suppose I oughtn't to criticize +so soon.</p></div> + +<p>To those two letters of Mark's, the Rector replied as +follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Rectory,</p> + +<p>Wych-on-the-Wold,</p> + +<p>Oxon.</p> + +<p>June 29th.</p> + +<p>My dear Mark,</p> + +<p>I cannot say frankly that I approve of your monastic +scheme. I should have liked an opportunity to talk it over +with you first of all, and I cannot congratulate you on your +good manners in going off like that without any word. +Although you are technically independent now, I think it +would be a great mistake to sink your small capital of £500 +in the Order of St. George, and you can't very well make +use of them to pass the next two or three years without +contributing anything.</p> + +<p>The other objection to your scheme is that you may not +get taken at Glastonbury. In any case the Glastonbury +people will give the preference to Varsity men, and I'm not +sure that they would be very keen on having an ex-monk. +However, as I said, you are independent now and can choose +yourself what you do. Meanwhile, I suppose it is possible +that Burrowes may decide you have no vocation, in which +case I hope you'll give up your monastic ambitions and come +back here.</p> + +<p>Yours affectionately,</p> + +<p>Stephen Ogilvie.</p></div> + +<p>Mark who had been growing bored in the guest-room of +Malford Abbey nearly said farewell to it for ever when he +received the Rector's letter. His old friend and guardian +was evidently wounded by his behaviour, and Mark considering +what he owed him felt that he ought to abandon his +monastic ambitions if by doing so he could repay the Rector +some of his kindness. His hand was on the bell that should +summon the guest-brother (when the bell was working and +the guest-brother was not) in order to tell him that he had +been called away urgently and to ask if he might have the +Abbey cart to take him to the station; but at that moment +Sir Charles Horner came in and began to chat affably to +Mark.</p> + +<p>"I've been intending to come up and see you for the last +three days. But I've been so confoundedly busy. They +wonder what we country gentlemen do with ourselves. By +gad, they ought to try our life for a change."</p> + +<p>Mark supposed that the third person plural referred to +the whole body of Radical critics.</p> + +<p>"You're the son of Lidderdale, I hear," Sir Charles went +on without giving Mark time to comment on the hardship of +his existence. "I visited Lima Street twenty-five years ago, +before you were born that was. Your father was a great +pioneer. We owe him a lot. And you've been with Rowley +lately? That confounded bishop. He's our bishop, you +know. But he finds it difficult to get at Burrowes except by +starving him for priests. The fellow's a time-server, a +pusher . . ."</p> + +<p>Mark began to like Sir Charles; he would have liked anybody +who would abuse the Bishop of Silchester.</p> + +<p>"So you're thinking of joining my Order," Sir Charles +went on without giving Mark time to say a word. "I call it +my Order because I set them up here with thirty acres of +uncleared copse. It gives the Tommies something to do +when they come over here on furlough from Aldershot. +You've never met Burrowes, I hear."</p> + +<p>Mark thought that Sir Charles for a busy man had managed +to learn a great deal about an unimportant person like +himself.</p> + +<p>"Will Father Burrowes be here soon?" Mark inquired.</p> + +<p>"'Pon my word, I don't know. Nobody knows when he'll +be anywhere. He's preaching all over the place. He begs +the deuce of a lot of money, you know. Aren't you a friend +of Dorward's? You were asking Brother Dunstan about +him. His parish isn't far from here. About fifteen miles, +that's all. He's an amusing fellow, isn't he? Has tremendous +rows with his squire, Philip Iredale. A pompous ass +whose wife ran away from him a little time ago. Served him +right, Dorward told me in confidence. You must come and +have lunch with me. There's only Lady Landells. I can't +afford to live in the big place. Huge affair with Doric portico +and all that, don't you know. It's let to Lord Middlesborough, +the shipping man. I live at Malford Lodge. Quite +a jolly little place I've made of it. Suits me better than that +great gaunt Georgian pile. You'd better walk down with +me this morning and stop to lunch."</p> + +<p>Mark, who was by now growing tired of his own company +in the guest-room, accepted Sir Charles' invitation with +alacrity; and they walked down from the Abbey to the village +of Malford, which was situated at the confluence of the +Mall and the Nodder, two diminutive tributaries of the Wey, +which itself is not a mighty stream.</p> + +<p>"A rather charming village, don't you think?" said Sir +Charles, pointing with his tasselled cane to a particularly +attractive rose-hung cottage. "It was lucky that the railway +missed us by a couple of miles; we should have been festering +with tin bungalows by now on any available land, which +means on any land that doesn't belong to me. I don't offer +to show you the church, because I never enter it."</p> + +<p>Mark had paused as a matter of course by the lychgate, +supposing that with a squire like Sir Charles the inside should +be of unusual interest.</p> + +<p>"My uncle most outrageously sold the advowson to the +Simeon Trustees, it being the only part of my inheritance he +could alienate from me, whom he loathed. He knew nothing +would enrage me more than that, and the result is that I've +got a fellow as vicar who preaches in a black gown and has +evening communion twice a month. That is why I took such +pleasure in planting a monastery in the parish; and if only +that old time-server the Bishop of Silchester would licence a +chaplain to the community, I should get my Sunday Mass +in my own parish despite my uncle's simeony, as I call it. +As it is with Burrowes away all the time raising funds, I +don't get a Mass at the Abbey and I have to go to the next +parish, which is four miles away and appears highly undignified +for the squire."</p> + +<p>"And you can't get him out?" said Mark.</p> + +<p>"If I did get him out, I should be afflicted with another +one just as bad. The Simeon Trustees only appoint people +of the stamp of Mr. Choules, my present enemy. He's a +horrid little man with a gaunt wife six feet high who beats +her children and, if village gossip be true, her husband as +well. Now you can see Malford Place, which is let to +Middlesborough, as I told you."</p> + +<p>Mark looked at the great Georgian house with its lawns +and cedars and gateposts surmounted by stone wyverns. He +had seen many of these great houses in the course of his +tramping; but he had never thought of them before except +as natural features in the landscape; the idea that people +could consider a gigantic building like that as much a home +as the small houses in which Mark had spent his life came +over him now with a sense of novelty.</p> + +<p>"Ghastly affair, isn't it?" said the owner contemptuously. +"I'd let it stand empty rather than live in it myself. It reeks +of my uncle's medicine and echoes with his gouty groans. +Besides what is there in it that's really mine?"</p> + +<p>Mark who had been thinking what an easy affair life must +be for Sir Charles was struck by his tone of disillusionment. +Perhaps all people who inherited old names and old estates +were affected by their awareness of transitory possession. +Sir Charles could not alienate even a piece of furniture. A +middle-aged bachelor and a cosmopolitan, he would have +moved about the corridors and halls of that huge house with +less permanency than Lord Middlesborough who paid him +so well to walk about in it in his stead, and who was no more +restricted by the terms of his lease than was his landlord by +the conditions of the entail. Mark began to feel sorry for +him; but without cause, for when Sir Charles came in sight +of Malford Lodge where he lived, he was full of enthusiasm. +It was indeed a pretty little house of red brick, dating from +the first quarter of the nineteenth century and like so many +houses of that period built close to the road, surrounded too +on three sides by a verandah of iron and copper in the +pagoda style, thoroughly ugly, but by reason of the mellow +peacock hues time had given its roof, full of personality and +charm. They entered by a green door in the brick wall and +crossed a lawn sloping down to the little river to reach the +shade of a tulip tree in full bloom, where seated in one of +those tall wicker garden chairs shaped like an alcove was +an elderly lady as ugly as Priapus.</p> + +<p>"There's Lady Landells, who's a poetess, you know," said +Sir Charles gravely.</p> + +<p>Mark accepted the information with equal gravity. He +was still unsophisticated enough to be impressed at hearing +a woman called a poetess.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lidderdale is going to have lunch with us, Lady +Landells," Sir Charles announced.</p> + +<p>"Oh, is he?" Lady Landells replied in a cracked murmur +of complete indifference.</p> + +<p>"He's a great admirer of your poems," added Sir Charles, +hearing which Lady Landells looked at Mark with her cod's +eyes and by way of greeting offered him two fingers of her +left hand.</p> + +<p>"I can't read him any of my poems to-day, Charles, so +pray don't ask me to do so," the poetess groaned.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to show Mr. Lidderdale some of our pictures +before lunch," said Sir Charles.</p> + +<p>Lady Landells paid no attention; Mark, supposing her to +be on the verge of a poetic frenzy, was glad to leave her in +that wicker alcove under the tulip tree and to follow Sir +Charles into the house.</p> + +<p>It was an astonishing house inside, with Gothic carving +everywhere and with ancient leaded casements built inside +the sashed windows of the exterior.</p> + +<p>"I took an immense amount of trouble to get this place +arranged to my taste," said Sir Charles; and Mark wondered +why he had bothered to retain the outer shell, since that was +all that was left of the original. In every room there were +copies, excellently done of pictures by Botticelli and Mantegna +and other pre-Raphaelite painters; the walls were rich +with antique brocades and tapestries; the ceilings were gilded +or elaborately moulded with fan traceries and groining; great +candlesticks stood in every corner; the doors were all old +with floriated hinges and huge locks—it was the sort of house +in which Victor Hugo might have put on his slippers and +said, "I am at home."</p> + +<p>"I admit nothing after 1520," said Sir Charles proudly.</p> + +<p>Mark wondered why so fastidious a medievalist allowed +the Order of St. George to erect those three tin tabernacles +and to matchboard the interior of the Abbey. But perhaps +that was only another outer shell which would gradually be +filled.</p> + +<p>Lunch was a disappointment, because when Sir Charles +began to talk about the monastery, which was what Mark +had been wanting to talk about all the morning, Lady Landells +broke in:</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Charles, but I'm afraid that I must beg for +complete silence at lunch, as I'm in the middle of a sonnet."</p> + +<p>The poetess sighed, took a large mouthful of food, and +sighed again.</p> + +<p>After lunch Sir Charles took Mark to see his library, +which reminded him of a Rossetti interior and lacked only +a beautiful long-necked creature, full-lipped and auburn-haired, +to sit by the casement languishing over a cithern or +gazing out through bottle-glass lights at a forlorn and foreshortened +landscape of faerie land.</p> + +<p>"Poor Lady Landells was a little tiresome at lunch," said +Sir Charles half to himself. "She gets moods. Women +seem never to grow out of getting moods. But she has +always been most kind to me, and she insists on giving me +anything I want for my house. Last year she was good +enough to buy it from me as it stands, so it's really her +house, although she has left it back to me in her will. She +took rather a fancy to you by the way."</p> + +<p>Mark, who had supposed that Lady Landells had regarded +him with aversion and scorn, stared at this.</p> + +<p>"Didn't she give you her hand when you said good-bye?" +asked Sir Charles.</p> + +<p>"Her left hand," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she never gives her right hand to anybody. She has +some fad about spoiling the magnetic current of Apollo or +something. Now, what about a walk?"</p> + +<p>Mark said he should like to go for a walk very much, but +wasn't Sir Charles too busy?</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, I've nothing to do at all."</p> + +<p>Yet only that morning he had held forth to Mark at great +length on the amount of work demanded for the management +of an estate.</p> + +<p>"Now, why do you want to join Burrowes?" Sir Charles +inquired presently.</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope to be a priest, and I think I should like to +spend the next two years out of the world."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is all very well," said Sir Charles, "but I don't +know that I altogether recommend the O.S.G. I'm not satisfied +with the way things are being run. However, they tell +me that this fellow Brother George has a good deal of +common-sense. He has been running their house in Malta, +where he's done some good work. I gave them the land to +build a mother house so that they could train people for +active service, as it were; but Burrowes keeps chopping and +changing and sending untrained novices to take charge of an +important branch like Sandgate, and now since Rowley left +he talks of opening a priory in Chatsea. That's all very well, +and it's quite right of him to bear in mind that the main object +of the Order is to work among soldiers; but at the same +time he leaves this place to run itself, and whenever he does +come down here he plans some hideous addition, to pay for +which he has to go off preaching for another three months, +so that the Abbey gets looked after by a young novice of +twenty-five. It's ridiculous, you know. I was grumbling at +the Bishop; but really I can understand his disinclination to +countenance Burrowes. I have hopes of Brother George, +and I shall take an early opportunity of talking to him."</p> + +<p>Mark was discouraged by Sir Charles' criticism of the +Order; and that it could be criticized like this through the +conduct of its founder accentuated for him the gulf that lay +between the English Church and the rest of Catholic +Christendom.</p> + +<p>It was not much solace to remember that every Benedictine +community was an independent congregation. One +could not imagine the most independent community's being +placed in charge of a novice of twenty-five. It made Mark's +proposed monastic life appear amateurish; and when he +was back in the matchboarded guest-room the impulse to +abandon his project was revised. Yet he felt it would be +wrong to return to Wych-on-the-Wold. The impulse to come +here, though sudden, had been very strong, and to give it up +without trial might mean the loss of an experience that one +day he should regret. The opinion of Sir Charles Horner +might or might not be well founded; but it was bound to be +a prejudiced opinion, because by constituting himself to the +extent he had a patron of the Order he must involuntarily +expect that it should be conducted according to his views. +Sir Charles himself, seen in perspective, was a tolerably +ridiculous figure, too much occupied with the paraphernalia +of worship, too well pleased with himself, a man of rank +and wealth who judged by severe standards was an old maid, +and like all old maids critical, but not creative.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV" />CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>THE ORDER OF ST. GEORGE</h3> + + +<p>The Order of St. George was started by the Reverend +Edward Burrowes six years before Sir Charles +Horner's gift of land for a Mother House led him to suppose +that he had made his foundation a permanent factor in +the religious life of England.</p> + +<p>Edward Burrowes was the only son of a band-master in +the Royal Artillery who at an impressionable moment in +the life of his son was stationed at Malta. The religious +atmosphere of Malta combined with the romantic associations +of chivalry and the influence of his mother determined the +boy's future. The band-master was puzzled and irritated +by his son's ecclesiastical bias. He thought that so much +church-going argued an unhealthy preoccupation, and as for +Edward's rhapsodies about the Auberge of Castile, which +sheltered the Messes of the Royal Artillery and the Royal +Engineers, they made him sick, to use his own expression.</p> + +<p>"You make me sick, Ted," he used to declare. "The +sooner I get quit of Malta and quartered at Woolwich again, +the better I shall be pleased."</p> + +<p>When at last the band-master was moved to Woolwich, he +hoped that the effect of such prosaic surroundings would +put an end to Ted's mooning, and that he would settle down +to a career more likely to reward him in this world rather +than in that ambiguous world beyond to which his dreams +aspired. Edward, who was by this time seventeen and who +had so far submitted to his father's wishes as to be working +in a solicitor's office, found that the effect of being banished +from Malta was to stimulate him into a practical attempt to +express his dreams of religious devotion. He hired a small +room over a stable in a back street and started a club for +the sons of soldiers. The band-master would not have +minded this so much, especially when he was congratulated on +his son's enterprise by the wife of the Colonel. Unfortunately +this was not enough for Edward, who having got the +right side of an unscrupulously romantic curate persuaded +him to receive his vows of a Benedictine oblate. The band-master, +proud and fond though he might be of his own +uniform, objected to his son's arriving home from business +and walking about the house in a cassock. He objected +equally to finding that his own musical gifts had with his son +degenerated into a passion for playing Gregorian chants on a +vile harmonium. It was only consideration for his delicate +wife that kept the band-master from pitching both cassock +and harmonium into the street. The amateur oblate regretted +his father's hostility; but he persevered with the manner of +life he had marked out for himself, finding much comfort +and encouragement in reading the lives of the saintly founders +of religious orders.</p> + +<p>At last, after a long struggle against the difficulties that +friends and father put in his way, Edward Burrowes managed +at the age of twenty-seven to get ordained in Canada, +whither, in despair of escaping otherwise from the solicitor's +office, he had gone to seek his own fortune. He took with +him the oblate's cassock; but he left behind the harmonium, +which his father kicked to pieces in rage at not being able to +kick his son. Burrowes worked as a curate in a dismal lakeside +town in Ontario, consoling himself with dreams of +monasticism and chivalry, and gaining a reputation as a +preacher. His chief friend was a young farmer, called +George Harvey, whom he succeeded in firing with his own +enthusiasm and whom he managed to persuade—which shows +that Burrowes must have had great powers of persuasion—to +wear the habit of a Benedictine novice, when he came to +spend Saturday night to Monday morning with his friend. +By this time Burrowes had passed beyond the oblate stage, +for having found a Canadian bishop willing to dispense him +from that portion of the Benedictine rule which was incompatible +with his work as a curate in Jonesville, Ontario, he +got himself clothed as a novice. About this period a third +man joined Burrowes and Harvey in their spare-time monasticism. +This was John Holcombe, who had emigrated from +Dorsetshire after an unfortunate love affair and who had +been taken on by George Harvey as a carter. Holcombe was +the son of a yeoman farmer that owned several hundred acres +of land. He had been educated at Sherborne, and soon by +his capacity and attractive personality he made himself so +indispensable to his employer that George Harvey's farm was +turned into a joint concern. No doubt Harvey's example was +the immediate cause of Holcombe's associating himself with +the little community: but it still says much for Burrowes' +powers of persuasion that he should have been able to impress +this young Dorset farmer with the serious possibility of +leading the monastic life in Ontario.</p> + +<p>When another year had passed, an opportunity arose of +acquiring a better farm in Alberta. It was the Bishop of +Alberta who had been so sympathetic with Burrowes' +monastic aspirations; and, when Harvey and Holcombe decided +to move to Moose Rib, Burrowes gave up his curacy +to lead a regular monastic life, so far as one could lead a +regular monastic life on a farm in the North-west.</p> + +<p>Two more years had gone by when a letter arrived from +England to tell George Harvey that he was the heir to +£12,000. Burrowes had kept all his influence over the young +farmer, and he was actually able to persuade Harvey to +devote this fortune to founding the Order of St. George for +mission work among soldiers. There was some debate +whether Father Burrowes, Brother George, and Brother +Birinus should take their final vows immediately; but in the +end Father Burrowes had his way, and they were all three +professed by the sympathetic Bishop of Alberta, who granted +them a constitution subject to the ratification of the Archbishop +of Canterbury. Father Burrowes was elected Father +Superior, Brother George was made Assistant Superior, and +Brother Birinus had to concentrate in his person various +monastic offices just as on the Moose Rib Farm he had combined +in his person the duties of the various hands.</p> + +<p>The immediate objective of the new community was Malta, +where it was proposed to open their first house and where, +in despite of the outraged dignity of innumerable real monks +already there, they made a successful beginning. A second +house was opened at Gibraltar and put in charge of Brother +Birinus. Neither Malta nor Gibraltar provided much of a +field for reinforcing the Order, which, if it was to endure, +required additional members. Father Burrowes proposed +that he should go to England and open a house at Aldershot, +and that, if he could obtain a hearing as a preacher, he should +try to raise enough funds for a house at Sandgate as well. +Brother George and Brother Birinus in a solemn chapter of +three accepted the proposal; the house at Gibraltar was given +up; the Father Superior went to seek the fortunes of the +Order in England, while the other two remained at their +work in Malta. Father Burrowes was even more successful +as a preacher than he hoped; ascribing the steady flow of +offertories to Divine favour, he instituted during the next +four years, priories at Aldershot and Sandgate. He began +to feel the need of a Mother House, having now more than +enough candidates for the Order of Saint George, where the +novices could be suitably trained to meet the stress of active +mission work. One of his moving appeals for this object +was heard by Sir Charles Horner who, for reasons he had +already explained to Mark and because underneath all his +ecclesiasticism there did exist a genuine desire for the glory +of God, had presented the land at Malford to the Order. +Father Burrowes preached harder than ever, addressed drawing-room +meetings, and started a monthly magazine called +<i>The Dragon</i> to raise the necessary money to build a mighty +abbey. Meanwhile, he had to be contented with those three +tin tabernacles. Brother George, who had remained all these +years in Malta, suggested that it was time for somebody else +to take his place out there, and the Father Superior, although +somewhat unwillingly, had agreed to his coming to Malford. +Not having heard of anybody whom at the moment he considered +suitable to take charge of what was now a distant +outpost of the Order, he told Brother George to close the +house. It was at this stage in the history of the Order that +Mark presented himself as a candidate for admission.</p> + +<p>Father Burrowes arrived unexpectedly two days after the +lunch at Malford Lodge; and presently Brother Dunstan +came to tell Mark that the Reverend Father would see him +in the Abbott's Parlour immediately after Nones. Mark +thought that Sir Charles might have given a mediæval lining +to this room at least, which with its roll-top desk looked like +the office of the clerk of the works.</p> + +<p>"So you want to be a monk?" said Father Burrowes contemptuously. +"Want to dress up in a beautiful white +habit, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I really don't mind what I wear," said Mark, trying not +to appear ruffled by the imputation of wrong motives. "But +I do want to be a monk, yes."</p> + +<p>"You can't come here to play at it," said the Superior, +looking keenly at Mark from his bright blue eyes and lighting +up a large pipe.</p> + +<p>"Curiously enough," said Mark, who had forgotten the +Benedictine injunction to discourage newcomers that seek to +enter a community, "I wrote to my guardian a few days ago +that my impression of Malford Abbey was rather that it was +playing at being monks."</p> + +<p>The Superior flushed to a vivid red. He was a burly man +of fair complexion, inclined to plumpness, and with a large +mobile mouth eloquent and sensual. His hands were definitely +fat, the backs of them covered with golden hairs and +freckles.</p> + +<p>"So you're a critical young gentleman, are you? I suppose +we're not Catholic enough for you. Well," he snapped, +"I'm afraid you won't suit us. We don't want you. Sorry."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry too," said Mark. "But I thought you would +prefer frankness. If you will spare me a few minutes, I'll +explain why I want to join the Order of St. George. If +when you've heard what I have to say you still think that +I'm not suitable, I shall recognize your right to be of that +opinion from your experience of many young men like myself +who have been tried and found wanting."</p> + +<p>"Did you learn that speech by heart?" the Superior inquired, +raising his eyebrows mockingly.</p> + +<p>"I see you're determined to find fault," Mark laughed. +"But, Reverend Father, surely you will listen to my reasons +before deciding against them or me?"</p> + +<p>"My instinct tells me you'll be no good to us. But if you +insist on wasting my time, fire ahead. Only please remember +that, though I may be a monk, I'm a very busy man."</p> + +<p>Mark gave a full account of himself until the present and +wound up by saying:</p> + +<p>"I don't think I have any sentimental reasons for wanting +to enter a monastery. I like working among soldiers and +sailors. I am ready to put down £200 and I hope to be of +use. I wish to be a priest, and if you find or I find that when +the time comes for me to be ordained I shall make a better +secular priest, at any rate, I shall have had the advantage of +a life of discipline and you, I promise, will have had a novice +who will have regarded himself as such, but yet will have +learnt somehow to have justified your confidence."</p> + +<p>The Superior looked down at his desk pondering. Presently +he opened a letter and threw a quick suspicious glance +at Mark.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me that you had an introduction +from Sir Charles Horner?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know that I had," Mark answered in some +astonishment. "I only met him here a few days ago for the +first time. He invited me to lunch, and he was very pleasant; +but I never asked him to write to you, nor did he suggest +doing so."</p> + +<p>"Have you any vices?" Father Burrowes asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"I don't think—what do you mean exactly?" Mark inquired.</p> + +<p>"Drink?"</p> + +<p>"No, certainly not."</p> + +<p>"Women?"</p> + +<p>Mark flushed.</p> + +<p>"No." He wondered if he should speak of the episode +of St. John's eve such a short time ago; but he could not +bring himself to do so, and he repeated the denial.</p> + +<p>"You seem doubtful," the Superior insisted.</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact," said Mark, "since you press this +point I ought to tell you that I took a vow of celibacy when +I was sixteen."</p> + +<p>Father Burrowes looked at him sharply.</p> + +<p>"Did you indeed? That sounds very morbid. Don't you +like women?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think a priest ought to marry. I was told by Sir +Charles that you vowed yourself to the monastic life when +you were not much more than seventeen. Was that morbid?"</p> + +<p>The Superior laughed boisterously, and Mark glad to have +put him in a good humour laughed with him. It was only +after the interview was over that the echo of that laugh +sounded unpleasantly in the caves of memory, that it rang +false somehow like a denial of himself.</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose we must try you as a probationer at any +rate," said the Superior. And suddenly his whole manner +changed. He became affectionate and sentimental as he put +his hand on Mark's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I hope, dear lad, that you will find a vocation to serve +our dear Lord in the religious life. God bless you and give +you endurance in the path you have chosen."</p> + +<p>Mark reproached himself for his inclination to dislike the +Reverend Father to whom he now owed filial affection, piety, +and respect, apart from what he owed him as a Christian of +Christian charity. He should gain but small spiritual benefit +from his self-chosen experiment if this was the mood in +which he was beginning his monastic life; and when Brother +Jerome, who was acting novice-master, began to instruct him +in his monastic duty, he made up his mind to drive out that +demon of criticism or rather to tame it to his own service +by criticizing himself. He wrote on markers for his favourite +devotional books:</p> + +<p><i>Observe at every moment of the day the good in others, +the evil in thyself; and when thou liest awake in the night +remember only what good thou hast found in others, what +evil in thyself.</i></p> + +<p>This was Mark's addition to Thomas a Kempis, to Mother +Juliana of Norwich, to Jeremy Taylor and William Law; +this was Mark's sprout of holy wisdom among the Little +Flowers of Saint Francis.</p> + +<p>The Rule of Malford was not a very austere adaptation of +the Rule of Saint Benedict; and, with the Reverend Father +departing after Mark had been admitted as a probationer +and leaving the administration of the Abbey to the priority +of Brother Dunstan, a good deal of what austerity had been +retained was now relaxed.</p> + +<p>The Night Office was not said at Malford, where the +liturgical worship of the day began with Lauds and Prime +at six. On Mark devolved the duty of waking the brethren +in the morning, which was done by striking the door of +each cell with a hammer and saying: <i>The Lord be with you</i>, +whereupon the sleeping brother must rise from his couch +and open the door of his cell to make the customary response. +After Lauds and Prime, which lasted about half an hour, +the brethren retired to their cells to put them in order for +the day and to meditate until seven o'clock, unless they had +been given tasks out of doors. At seven o'clock, if there was +a priest in the monastery, Mass was said; otherwise meditation +and study was prolonged until eight o'clock, when breakfast +was eaten. Those who had work in the fields or about +the house departed after breakfast to their tasks. At nine +Terce was said, which was not attended by the brethren +working out of doors; at twelve Sext was said attended by +all the brethren, and at twelve-fifteen dinner was eaten. +After dinner, the brethren retired to their cells and meditated +until one o'clock, when their various duties were resumed, +interrupted only in the case of those working indoors by the +office of None at three o'clock. At a quarter to five the bell +rang for tea. Simple silence was relaxed, and the brethren +enjoyed their recreation until six-fifteen when the bell rang +for a quarter of an hour's solemn silence before Vespers. +Supper was eaten after Vespers, and after supper, which was +finished about eight o'clock, there was reading and recreation +until the bell rang for Compline at nine-fifteen. This +office said, solemn silence was not broken until the response +to the <i>dominus vobiscum</i> in the morning. The rule of simple +silence was not kept very strictly at this period. Two +brethren working in the garden in these hot July days found +that permitted conversation about the immediate matter in +hand, say the whereabouts of a trowel or a hoe, was easily +extended into observations about the whereabouts of Brother +So-and-So during Terce or the way Brother Somebody-else +was late with the antiphon. From the little incidents of the +Abbey's daily round the conversation was easily extended +into a discussion of the policy of the Order in general. +Speculations where the Reverend Father was preaching that +evening or that morning and whether his offertories would +be as large during the summer as they had been during the +spring were easily amplified from discussions about the general +policy of the Order into discussions about the general +policy of Christendom, the pros and cons of the Roman +position, the disgraceful latitudinarianism of bishops and +deans; and still more widely amplified from remarks upon +the general policy of Christendom into arguments about the +universe and the great philosophies of humanity. Thus +Mark, who was an ardent Platonist, would find himself at +odds with Brother Jerome who was an equally ardent Aristotelian, +while the weeds, taking advantage of the philosophic +contest, grew faster than ever.</p> + +<p>Whatever may have been Brother Dunstan's faults of indulgence, +they sprang from a debonair and kindly personality +which shone like a sun upon the little family and made +everybody good-humoured, even Brother Lawrence, who was +apt to be cross because he had been kept a postulant longer +than he expected. But perhaps the happiest of all was +Brother Walter, who though still a probationer was now the +senior probationer, a status which afforded him the most +profound satisfaction and gave him a kindly feeling toward +Mark who was the cause of promotion.</p> + +<p>"And the Reverend Father has promised me that I shall +be clothed as a postulant on August 10th when Brother +Lawrence is to be clothed as a novice. The thought makes +me so excited that I hardly know what to do sometimes, and +I still don't know what saint's name I'm going to take. You +see, there was some mystery about my birth, and I was called +Walter because I was found by a policeman in Walter Street, +and as ill-luck would have it there's no St. Walter. Of +course, I know I have a very wide choice of names, but that +is what makes it so difficult. I had rather a fancy to be +Peter, but he's such a very conspicuous saint that it struck +me as being a little presumptuous. Of course, I have no +doubt whatever that St. Peter would take me under his protection, +for if you remember he was a modest saint, a very +modest saint indeed who asked to be crucified upside down, +not liking to show the least sign of competition with our dear +Lord. I should very much like to call myself Brother Paul, +because at the school I was at we were taken twice a year +to see St. Paul's Cathedral and had toffee when we came +home. I look back to those days as some of the happiest of +my life. There again it does seem to be putting yourself up +rather to take the name of a great saint like St. Paul. Then +I thought of taking William after the little St. William of +Norwich who was murdered by the Jews. That seems going +to the other extreme, doesn't it, for though I know that out +of the mouths of babes and sucklings shall come forth praise, +one would like to feel one had for a patron saint somebody +a little more conspicuous than a baby. I wish you'd give me +a word of advice. I think about this problem until sometimes +my head's in a regular whirl, and I lose my place in +the Office. Only yesterday at Sext, I found myself saying +the antiphon proper to St. Peter a fortnight after St. Peter's +day had passed and gone, which seems to show that my mind +is really set upon being Brother Peter, doesn't it? And yet +I don't know. He is so very conspicuous all through the +Gospels, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you compromise," suggested Mark, "and +call yourself Brother Simon?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a splendid idea!" Brother Walter exclaimed, +clapping his hands. "Oh, thank you, Brother Mark. That +has solved all my difficulties. Oh, do let me pull up that +thistle for you."</p> + +<p>Brother Walter the probationer resumed his weeding with +joyful ferocity of purpose, his mind at peace in the expectation +of shortly becoming Brother Simon the postulant.</p> + +<p>What Mark enjoyed most in his personal relations with +the community were the walks on Sunday afternoons. Sir +Charles Horner made a habit of joining these to obtain the +Abbey gossip and also because he took pleasure in hearing +himself hold forth on the management of his estate. Most +of his property was woodland, and the walks round Malford +possessed that rich intimacy of the English countryside at +its best. Mark was not much interested in what Sir Charles +had to ask or in what Sir Charles had to tell or in what Sir +Charles had to show, but to find himself walking with his +monastic brethren in their habits down glades of mighty +oaks, or through sparse plantations of birches, beneath which +grew brakes of wild raspberries that would redden with the +yellowing corn, gave him as assurance of that old England +before the Reformation to which he looked back as to a +Golden Age. Years after, when much that was good and +much that was bad in his monastic experience had been forgotten, +he held in his memory one of these walks on a fine +afternoon at July's end within the octave of St. Mary Magdalene. +It happened that Sir Charles had not accompanied +the monks that Sunday; but in his place was an old priest +who had spent the week-end as a guest in the Abbey and who +had said Mass for the brethren that morning. This had +given Mark deep pleasure, because it was the Sunday after +Esther's profession, and he had been able to make his intention +her present joy and future happiness. He had been +silent throughout the walk, seeming to listen in turn to +Brother Dunstan's rhapsodies about the forthcoming arrival +of Brother George and Brother Birinus with all that it meant +to him of responsibility more than he could bear removed +from his shoulders; or to Brother Raymond's doubts if it +should not be made a rule that when no priest was in the +Abbey the brethren ought to walk over to Wivelrod, the +church Sir Charles attended four miles away, or to Brother +Jerome's disclaimer of Roman sympathies in voicing his +opinion that the Office should be said in Latin. Actually he +paid little attention to any of them, his thoughts being far +away with Esther. They had chosen Hollybush Down for +their walk that Sunday, because they thought that the view +over many miles of country would please the ancient priest. +Seated on the short aromatic grass in the shade of a massive +hawthorn full-berried with tawny fruit, the brethren looked +down across a slope dotted with junipers to the view outspread +before them. None spoke, for it had been warm work +in their habits to climb the burnished grass. It would have +been hard to explain the significance of that group, unless it +were due to some haphazard achievement of perfect form; +yet somehow for Mark that moment was taken from time and +placed in eternity, so that whenever afterward in his life he +read about the Middle Ages he was able to be what he read, +merely by re-conjuring that monkish company in the shade +of that hawthorn tree.</p> + +<p>On their way back to the Abbey Mark found himself +walking with Mr. Lamplugh, the ancient priest, who turned +out to have known his father.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, are you really the son of James Lidderdale? +Why, I used to go and preach at Lima Street in old days +long before your father married. And so you're Lidderdale's +son. Now I wonder why you want to be a monk."</p> + +<p>Mark gave an account of himself since he left school and +tried to give some good reasons why he was at Malford.</p> + +<p>"And so you were with Rowley? Well, really you ought +to know something about missions by now. But perhaps +you're tired of mission work already?" the old priest inquired +with a quick glance at Mark as if he would see how +much of the real stuff existed underneath that probationer's +cassock.</p> + +<p>"This is an active Order, isn't it?" Mark countered. "Of +course, I'm not tired of mission work. But after being with +Father Rowley and being kept busy all the time I found +that being at home in the country made me idle. I told the +Reverend Father that I hoped to be ordained as a secular +priest and that I did not imagine I had any vocation for +the contemplative life. I have as a matter of fact a great +longing for it. But I don't think that twenty-one is a good +age for being quite sure if that longing is not mere sentiment. +I suppose you think I'm just indulging myself with +the decorative side of religion, Father Lamplugh? I really +am not. I can assure you that I'm far too much accustomed +to the decorative side to be greatly influenced by it."</p> + +<p>The old priest laid a thin hand on Mark's sleeve.</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth, my dear boy, I was on the verge of +violating the decencies of accepted hospitality by criticizing +the Order of which you have become a probationer. I am +just a little doubtful about the efficacy of its method of training +young men. However, it really is not my business, and +I hope that I am wrong. But I <i>am</i> a little doubtful if all +these excellent young brethren are really desirous . . . no, +I'll not say another word, I've already disgracefully exceeded +the limitations to criticism that courtesy alone demands of +me. I was carried away by my interest in you when I heard +whose son you were. What a debt we owe to men like your +father and Rowley! And here am I at seventy-six after a +long and useless life presuming to criticize other people. God +forgive me!" The old man crossed himself.</p> + +<p>That afternoon and evening recreation was unusually +noisy, and during Vespers one or two of the brethren were +seized with an attack of giggles because Brother Lawrence, +who was in a rapt condition of mind owing to the near +approach of St. Lawrence's day when he was to be clothed +as a novice, tripped while he was holding back the cope during +the censing of the <i>Magnificat</i> and falling on his knees +almost upset Father Lamplugh. There was no doubt that +the way Brother Lawrence stuck out his lower jaw when he +was self-conscious was very funny; but Mark wished that the +giggling had not occurred in front of Father Lamplugh. He +wished too that during recreation after supper Brother Raymond +would be less skittish and Brother Dunstan less arch in +the manner of reproving him.</p> + +<p>"Holy simplicity is all very well," Mark thought. "But +holy imbecility is a great bore, especially when there is a +stranger present."</p> + +<p>Luckily Father Burrowes came back the following week, +and Mark's deepening impression of the monastery's futility +was temporarily obliterated by the exciting news that the +Bishop of Alberta whom the brethren were taught to reverence +as a second founder would be the guest of the Order +on St. Lawrence's day and attend the profession of Brother +Anselm. Mark had not yet seen Brother Anselm, who was +the brother in charge of the Aldershot priory, and he welcomed +the opportunity of witnessing those solemn final vows. +He felt that he should gain much from meeting Brother +Anselm, whose work at Aldershot was considered after the +Reverend Father's preaching to be the chief glory of the +Order. Brother Lawrence was a little jealous that his name +day, on which he was to be clothed in Chapter as a novice, +should be chosen for the much more important ceremony, and +he spoke sharply to poor Brother Walter when the latter +rejoiced in the added lustre Brother Anselm's profession +would shed upon his own promotion.</p> + +<p>"You must remember, Brother," he said, "that you'll probably +remain a postulant for a very long time."</p> + +<p>"But not for ever," replied poor Brother Walter in a +depressed tone of voice.</p> + +<p>"There may not be time to attend to you," said Brother +Lawrence spitefully. "You may have to wait until the +Bishop has gone."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, oh dear," sighed Brother Walter looking woeful. +"Brother Mark, do you hear what they say?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Mark, "we'll take our final vows together +when Brother Lawrence is still a doddering old +novice."</p> + +<p>Brother Lawrence clicked his tongue and bit his under lip +in disgust at such a flippant remark.</p> + +<p>"What a thing to say," he muttered, and burying his hands +in his sleeves he walked off disdainfully, his jaw thrust +before him.</p> + +<p>"Like a cow-catcher," Mark thought with a smile.</p> + +<p>The Bishop of Alberta was a dear old gentleman with +silvery hair and a complexion as fresh and pink as a boy's. +With his laced rochet and purple biretta he lent the little +matchboarded chapel an exotic splendour when he sat in a +Glastonbury chair beside the altar during the Office. The +more ritualistic of the brethren greatly enjoyed giving him +reverent genuflexions and kissing his episcopal ring. Brother +Raymond's behaviour towards him was like that of a child +who has been presented with a large doll to play with, a +large doll that can be dressed and undressed at the pleasure +of its owner with nothing to deter him except a faint squeak +of protest such as the Bishop himself occasionally emitted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV" />CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>SUSCIPE ME, DOMINE</h3> + + +<p>Brother Anselm was to arrive on the vigil of St. +Lawrence. Normally Brother Walter would have been +sent to meet him with the Abbey cart at the station three +miles away. But Brother Walter was in a state of such +excitement over his near promotion to postulant that it was +not considered safe to entrust him with the pony. So Mark +was sent in his place. It was a hot August evening with +thunder clouds lying heavy on the Malford woods when Mark +drove down the deep lanes to the junction, wondering what +Brother Anselm would be like and awed by the imagination +of Brother Anselm's thoughts in the train that was bringing +him from Aldershot to this momentous date of his life's +history. Almost before he knew what he was saying Mark +was quoting from <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i15"><i>My mind misgives</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Shall bitterly begin his fearful date</i><br /></span> +<span><i>With this night's revels.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Now why should I have thought that?" he asked himself, +and he was just deciding that it was merely a verbal sequence +of thought when the first far-off peal of thunder muttered +a kind of menacing contradiction of so easy an explanation. +It would be raining soon; Mark thumped the pony's angular +haunches, and tried to feel cheerful in the oppressive air.</p> + +<p>Brother Anselm did not appear as Mark had pictured him. +Instead of the lithe enthusiast with flaming eyes he saw a +heavily built man with blunted features, wearing powerful +horn spectacles, his expression morose, his movements ungainly. +He had, however, a mellow and strangely sympathetic +voice, in which Mark fancied that he perceived the +power he was reputed to wield over the soldiers for whose +well-being he fought so hard. Mark would have liked to +ask him about life in the Aldershot priory; perhaps if +Brother Anselm had been less taciturn, he would have broken +if not the letter at any rate the spirit of the Rule by begging +the senior to ask for his services in the Priory. But no +sooner were they jogging back to Malford than the rain +came down in a deluge, and Brother Anselm, pulling the hood +of his frock over his head, was more unapproachable than +ever. Mark wished that he had a novice's frock and hood, +for the rain was pouring down the back of his neck and the +threadbare cassock he wore was already drenched.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Brother," said the new-comer when the Abbey +was attained.</p> + +<p>It was dark by now, and, with nothing visible of the +speaker except his white habit in the gloom, the voice might +have been the voice of a heavenly visitant, so rarely sweet, +so gentle and harmonious were the tones. Mark was much +moved by that brief recognition of himself.</p> + +<p>The wind rose high during the night; listening to it roaring +through the coppice in which the Abbey was built, Mark +lay awake for a long time in mute prayer that Brother +Anselm might find peace and felicity in his new state. And +while he prayed for Brother Anselm he prayed for Esther +in Shoreditch. In the morning when Mark went from cell +to cell, rousing the brethren from sleep with his hammer +and salutation, the sun was climbing a serene and windless +sky. The familiar landscape was become a mountain top. +Heaven was very near.</p> + +<p>Mark was glad that the day was so fair for the profession +of Brother Anselm, and at Lauds the antiphon, versicle, and +response proper to St. Lawrence appealed to him by their +fitness to the occasion,</p> + +<p><i>Gold is tried in the fire: and acceptable men in the furnace +of adversity</i>.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>V. The Righteous shall grow as a lily.</i><br /></span> +<span><i>R. He shall flourish for ever before the Lord</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mark concerned himself less with his own reception as a +postulant. The distinction between a probationer and a +postulant was very slight, really an arbitrary one made by +Father Burrowes for his own convenience, and until he had +to decide whether he should petition to be clothed as a novice +Mark did not feel that he was called upon to take himself +too seriously as a monk. For that reason he did not change +his name, but preferred to stay Brother Mark. The little +ceremony of reception was carried through in Chapter before +the brethren went into the Oratory to say Terce, and Brother +Walter was so much excited when he heard himself addressed +as Brother Simon that for a moment it seemed doubtful if +he would be sufficiently calm to attend the profession of +Brother Anselm at the conventual Mass. However, during +the clothing of Brother Lawrence as a novice Brother Simon +quieted down, and even gave over counting the three knots +in the rope with which he had been girdled. Ordinarily, +Brother Lawrence would have been clothed after Mass, but +this morning it was felt that such a ceremony coming after +the profession of Brother Anselm would be an anti-climax, +and it was carried through in Chapter. It took Brother +Lawrence all he had ever heard and read about humility and +obedience not to protest at the way his clothing on his own +saint's day, for which he had been made to wait nearly a +year, was being carried through in such a hole in the corner +fashion. But he fixed his mind upon the torments of the +blessed archdeacon on the gridiron and succeeded in keeping +his temper.</p> + +<p>Mark felt that the profession of Brother Anselm lost some +of its dignity by the absence of Brother George and Brother +Birinus, the only other professed members of the Order +apart from Father Burrowes himself. It struck him as +slightly ludicrous that a few young novices and postulants +should represent the venerable choir-monks whom one pictured +at such a ceremony from one's reading of the Rule of +St. Benedict. Moreover, Father Burrowes never presented +himself to Mark's imagination as an authentic abbot. Nor +indeed was he such. Malford Abbey was a courtesy title, +and such monastic euphemisms as the Abbot's Parlour and +the Abbot's Lodgings to describe the matchboarded apartments +sacred to the Father Superior, while they might please +such ecclesiastical enthusiasts as Brother Raymond, appealed +to Mark as pretentious and somewhat silly. In fact, if it had +not been for the presence of the Bishop of Alberta in cope +and mitre Mark would have found it hard, when after Terce +the brethren assembled in the Chapter-room to hear Brother +Anselm make his final petition, to believe in the reality of +what was happening, to believe, when Brother Anselm in +reply to the Father Superior's exhortation chose the white +cowl and scapular (which in the Order of St. George differentiated +the professed monk from the novice) and rejected +the suit of dittos belonging to his worldly condition, that he +was passing through moments of greater spiritual importance +than any since he was baptized or than any he would pass +through before he stood upon the threshold of eternity.</p> + +<p>But this was a transient scepticism, a fleeting discontent, +which vanished when the brethren formed into procession +and returned to the oratory singing the psalm: <i>In Convertendo</i>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>When the Lord turned again the captivity of Sion: then +were we like unto them, that dream.</i></p> + +<p><i>Then was our mouth filled with laughter: and our tongue +with joy.</i></p> + +<p><i>Then said they among the heathen: The Lord hath done +great things for them.</i></p> + +<p><i>Yea, the Lord hath done great things for us already: +whereof we rejoice.</i></p> + +<p><i>Turn our captivity, O Lord: as the rivers in the south.</i></p> + +<p><i>They that sow in tears: shall reap in joy.</i></p> + +<p><i>He that now goeth on his way weeping, and beareth forth +good seed: shall doubtless come again with joy, and bring +his sheaves with him.</i></p></div> + +<p>The Father Superior of the Order sang the Mass, while +the Bishop of Alberta seated in his Glastonbury chair suffered +with an expression of childlike benignity the ritualistic +ministrations of Brother Raymond, the ceremonial doffing and +donning of his mitre. It was very still in the little Oratory, +for it was the season when birds are hushed; and even Sir +Charles Horner who was all by himself in the ante-chapel did +not fidget or try to peep through the heavy brocaded curtains +that shut out the quire. Mark dared not look up when at +the offertory Brother Anselm stood before the Altar and +answered the solemn interrogations of the Father Superior, +question after question about his faith and endurance in the +life he desired to enter. And to every question he answered +clearly <i>I will</i>. The Father Superior took the parchment on +which were written the vows and read aloud the document. +Then it was placed upon the Altar, and there upon that +sacrificial stone Brother Anselm signed his name to a contract +with Almighty God. The holy calm that shed itself +upon the scene was like a spell on every heart that was +beating there in unison with the heart of him who was drawing +nearer to Heaven. Prostrating himself, the professed +monk prayed first to God the Father:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>O receive me according to thy word that I may live; +and let me not be disappointed of my hope.</i></p></div> + +<p>The hearts that beat in unison with his took up the prayer, +and the voices of his brethren repeated it word for word. +And now the professed monk prayed to God the Son:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>O receive me according to thy word that I may live; +and let me not be disappointed of my hope.</i></p></div> + +<p>Once more his brethren echoed the entreaty.</p> + +<p>And lastly the professed monk prayed to God the Holy +Ghost:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>O receive me according to thy word that I may live; +and let me not be disappointed of my hope.</i></p></div> + +<p>For the third time his brethren echoed the entreaty, and then +one and all in that Oratory cried:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy +Ghost; as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever +shall be, world without end. Amen.</i></p></div> + +<p>There followed prayers that the peace of God might be +granted to the professed monk to enable him worthily to +perform the vows which he had made, and before the blessing +and imposition of the scapular the Bishop rose to speak in +tones of deep emotion:</p> + +<p>"Brethren, I scarcely dared to hope, when, now nearly ten +years ago, I received the vows of your Father Superior as +a novice, that I should one day be privileged to be present +at this inspiring ceremony. Nor even when five years ago +in the far north-west of Canada I professed your Father +Superior and those two devoted souls who will soon be with +you, now that their work in Malta is for the time finished, +did I expect to find myself in this beautiful Oratory which +your Order owes to the generosity of a true son of the +Church. My heart goes out to you, and I thank God humbly +that He has vouchsafed to hear my prayers and bless the +enterprise from which I had indeed expected much, but which +Almighty God has allowed to prosper more, far more, than +I ventured to hope. All my days I have longed to behold the +restoration of the religious life to our country, and now when +my eyes are dim with age I am granted the ineffable joy of +beholding what for too long in my weakness and lack of faith +I feared was never likely to come to pass.</p> + +<p>"The profession of our dear brother this morning is, I +pray, an earnest of many professions at Malford. May these +first vows placed upon the Altar of this Oratory be blessed +by Almighty God! May our brother be steadfast and happy +in his choice! Brethren, I had meant to speak more and +with greater eloquence, but my heart is too full. The Lord +be with you."</p> + +<p>Now Brother Anselm was clothed in the blessed habit while +the brethren sang:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>And lighten with celestial fire.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Father Superior of the Order gave him the paternal +kiss. He begged the prayers of his brethren there assembled, +and drawing the hood of his cowl over his head prostrated +himself again before the Altar. The Mass proceeded.</p> + +<p>If the strict Benedictine usage had been followed at Malford, +Brother Anselm would have remained apart from the +others for three days ofter his profession, wrapped in his +cowl, alone with God. But he was anxious to go back to +Aldershot that very afternoon, excusing himself because +Brother Chad, left behind in charge of the Priory, would be +overwhelmed by his various responsibilities. Brother +Dunstan, who had wept throughout the ceremony of the profession, +was much upset by Brother Anselm's departure. He +had hoped to achieve great exaltation of spirit by Brother +Anselm's silent presence. He began to wonder if the newly +professed monk appreciated his position. Had himself been +granted what Brother Anselm had been granted, he should +have liked to spend a week in contemplation of the wonder +which had befallen him. Brother Dunstan asked himself if +his thoughts were worthy of a senior novice, of one who had +for a while acted as Prior and been accorded the address of +Reverend Brother. He decided that they were not, and as +a penance he begged for the nib with which Brother Anselm +had signed his profession. This he wore round his neck as +an amulet against unbrotherly thoughts and as a pledge of +his own determination to vow himself eternally to the service +of God.</p> + +<p>Mark was glad that Brother Anselm was going back so +soon to his active work. It was an assurance that the Order +of St. George did have active work to do; and when he was +called upon to drive Brother Anselm to the station he made +up his mind to conquer his shyness and hint that he should +be glad to serve the Order in the Priory at Aldershot.</p> + +<p>This time, notwithstanding that he had a good excuse to +draw his hood close, Brother Anselm showed himself more +approachable.</p> + +<p>"If the Reverend Father suggests your name," he promised +Mark, "I shall be glad to have you with us. Brother Chad is +simply splendid, and the Tommies are wonderful. It's quite +right of course to have a Mother House, but. . . ." He +broke off, disinclined to criticize the direction of the Order's +policy to a member so junior as Mark.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not asking you to do anything yet awhile," Mark +explained. "I quite realize that I have a great deal to learn +before I should be any use at Aldershot or Sandgate. I hope +you don't mind my talking like this. But until this morning +I had not really intended to remain in the Order. My hope +was to be ordained as soon as I was old enough. Now since +this morning I feel that I do long for the spiritual support of +a community for my own feeble aspirations. The Bishop's +words moved me tremendously. It wasn't what he said so +much, but I was filled with all his faith and I could have +cried out to him a promise that I for one would help to carry +on the restoration. At the same time, I know that I'm more +fitted for active work, not by any good I expect to do, but for +the good it will do me. I suppose you'd say that if I had +a true vocation I shouldn't be thinking about what part I was +going to play in the life of the Order, but that I should be +content to do whatever I was told. I'm boring you?" Mark +broke off to inquire, for Brother Anselm was staring in front +of him through his big horn spectacles like an owl.</p> + +<p>"No, no," said the senior. "But I'm not the novice-master. +Who is, by the way?"</p> + +<p>"Brother Jerome."</p> + +<p>The other did not comment on this information, but Mark +was sure that he was trying not to look contemptuous.</p> + +<p>Soon the junction came in sight, and from down the line +the white smoke of a train approaching.</p> + +<p>"Hurry, Brother, I don't want to miss it."</p> + +<p>Mark thumped the haunches of the pony and drove up +just in time for Brother Anselm to escape.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Brother," said that same voice which yesterday, +only yesterday night, had sounded so rarely sweet. Here +on this mellow August afternoon it was the voice of the +golden air itself, and the shriek of the engine did not drown +its echoes in Mark's soul where all the way back to Malford +it was chiming like a bell.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI" />CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>ADDITION</h3> + + +<p>Mark's ambition to go and work at Aldershot was +gratified before the end of August, because Brother +Chad fell ill, and it was considered advisable to let him spend +a long convalescence at the Abbey.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Priory,</p> + +<p>17, Farnborough Villas,</p> + +<p>Aldershot.</p> + +<p>St. Michael and All Angels.</p> + +<p>My dear Rector,</p> + +<p>I don't think you'll be sorry to read from the above +address that I've been transferred from Malford to one +of the active branches of the Order. I don't accept your +condemnation of the Abbey as pseudo-monasticism, though +I can quite well understand that my account of it might +lead you to make such a criticism. The trouble with me is +that my emotions and judgment are always quarrelling. I +suppose you might say that is true of most people. It's +like the palmist who tells everybody that he is ruled by his +head or his heart, as the case may be. But when one approaches +the problem of religion (let alone what is called +the religious life) one is terribly perplexed to know which +is to be obeyed. I don't think that you can altogether rule +out emotion as a touchstone of truth. The endless volumes +of St. Thomas Aquinas, through which I've been wading, +do not cope with the fact that the whole of his vast intellectual +and severely logical structure is built up on the +assumption of faith, which is the gift of emotion, not judgment. +The whole system is a petitio principii really.</p> + +<p>I did not mean to embark on a discussion of the question +of the Ultimate Cause of religion, but to argue with you +about the religious life! The Abbot Paphnutius told Cassian +that there were three sorts of vocation—ex Deo, per hominem, +and ex necessitate. Now suppose I have a vocation, +mine is obviously per hominem. I inherit the missionary +spirit from my father. That spirit was fostered by association +with Rowley. My main object in entering the Order +of St. George was to work among soldiers, not because I +felt that soldiers needed "missionizing" more than any other +class, but because the work at Chatsea brought me into +contact with both sailors and soldiers, and turned my +thoughts in their direction. I also felt the need of an +organization behind my efforts. My first impulse was to be +a preaching friar, but that would have laid too much on me +as an individual, and from lack of self-confidence, youthfulness, +want of faith perhaps, I was afraid. Well, to come +back to the Abbot Paphnutius and his three vocations—it +seems fairly clear that the first, direct from God, is a better +vocation than the one which is inspired by human example, +or the third, which arises from the failure of everything +else. At the same time they ARE all three genuine vocations. +What applies to the vocation seems to me to apply equally +to the community. What you stigmatize as our pseudo-monasticism +is still experimental, and I think I can see the +Reverend Father's idea. He has had a great deal of experience +with an Order which began so amateurishly, if I may +use the word, that nobody could have imagined that it would +grow to the size and strength it has reached in ten years. +The Bishop of Alberta revealed much to us of our beginnings +during his stay at the Abbey, and after I had listened +to him I felt how presumptuous it was for me to criticize +the central source of the religious life we are hoping to +spread. You see, Rector, I must have criticized it implicitly +in my letters to you, for your objections are simply the +expression of what I did not like to say, but what I managed +to convey through the medium of would-be humorous +description. One hears of the saving grace of humour, but +I'm not sure that humour is a saving grace. I rather wish +that I had no sense of humour. It's a destructive quality. +All the great sceptics have been humourists. Humour is really +a device to secure human comfort. Take me. I am inspired +to become a preaching friar. I instantly perceive the funny +side of setting out to be a preaching friar. I tell myself +that other people will perceive the funny side of it, and that +consequently I shall do no good as a preaching friar. Yes, +humour is a moisture which rusts everything except gold. +As a nation the Jews have the greatest sense of humour, and +they have been the greatest disintegrating force in the history +of mankind. The Scotch are reputed to have no sense of +humour, and they are morally the most impressive nation +in the world. What humour is allowed them is known as +dry humour. The corroding moisture has been eliminated. +They are still capable of laughter, but never so as to interfere +with their seriousness in the great things of life. I remember +I once heard a tiresome woman, who was striving to be +clever, say that Our Lord could not have had much sense of +humour or He would not have hung so long on the Cross. +At the time I was indignant with the silly blasphemy, but +thinking it over since I believe that she was right, and that, +while her only thought had been to make a remark that +would create a sensation in the room, she had actually hit on +the explanation of some of Our Lord's human actions. And +his lack of humour is the more conspicuous because he was +a Jew. I was reading the other day a book of essays by +one of our leading young latitudinarian divines, in which +he was most anxious to prove that Our Lord had all the +graces of a well-bred young man about town, including a +pretty wit. He actually claimed that the pun on Peter's +name was an example of Our Lord's urbane and genial +humour! It gives away the latitudinarian position completely. +They're really ashamed of Christianity. They want +to bring it into line with modern thought. They hope by +throwing overboard the Incarnation, the Resurrection of the +Body, and the Ascension, to lighten the ship so effectually +that it will ride buoyantly over the billows of modern knowledge. +But however lightly the ship rides, she will still be +at sea, and it would be the better if she struck on the rock +of Peter and perished than that she should ride buoyantly +but aimlessly over the uneasy oceans of knowledge.</p> + +<p>I've once more got a long way from the subject of my +letter, but I've always taken advantage of your patience to +air my theories, and when I begin to write to you my pen +runs away with me. The point I want to make is that unless +there is a mother house which is going to create a reserve +of spiritual energy, the active work of the Order is going +to suffer. The impulse to save souls might easily exhaust +itself in the individual. A few disappointments, unceasing +hard work, the interference of a bishop, the failure of financial +support, a long period in which his work seems to have +come to a standstill, all these are going to react on the +individual missioner who depends on himself. Looking +back now at the work done by my father, and by Rowley +at Chatsea, I'm beginning to understand how dangerous it +is for one man to make himself the pivot of an enterprise. +I only really know about my father's work at second hand, +but look at Chatsea. I hear now that already the work is +falling to pieces. Although that may not justify the Bishop +of Silchester, I'm beginning to see that he might argue that +if Rowley had shown himself sufficiently humble to obey +the forces of law and order in the Church, he would have +had accumulated for him a fresh store of energy from which +he might have drawn to consolidate his influence upon the +people with whom he worked. Anyway, that's what I'm +going to try to acquire from the pseudo-monasticism of +Malford. I'm determined to dry up the critical and humorous +side of myself. Half of it is nothing more than +arrogance. I'm grateful for being sent to Aldershot, but +I'm going to make my work here depend on the central +source of energy and power. I'm going to say that my +work is per hominem, but that the success of my work is +ex Deo. You may tell me that any man with the least conception +of Christian Grace would know that. Yes, he may +know it intellectually, but does he know it emotionally? I +confess I don't yet awhile. But I do know that if the Order +of St. George proves itself a real force, it will not be per +hominem, it will not be by the Reverend Father's eloquence +in the pulpit, but by the vocation of the community ex Deo.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, here I am at Aldershot. Brother Chad, whose +place I have taken, was a character of infinite sweetness and +humility. All our Tommies speak of him in a sort of protective +way, as if he were a little boy they had adopted. +He had—has, for after all he's only gone to the Abbey to +get over a bad attack of influenza on top of months of hard +work—he has a strangely youthful look, although he's nearly +thirty. He hails from Lichfield. I wonder what Dr. Johnson +would have made of him. I've already told you about +Brother Anselm. Well, now that I've seen him at home, as +it were, I can't discover the secret of his influence with our +men. He's every bit as taciturn with them as he was with +me on that drive from the station, and yet there is not one +of them that doesn't seem to regard him as an intimate +friend. He's extraordinarily good at the practical side of +the business. He makes the men comfortable. He always +knows just what they're wanting for tea or for supper, and +the games always go well when Brother Anselm presides, +much better than they do when I'm in charge! I think +perhaps that's because I play myself, and want to win. It +infects the others. And yet we ought to want to win a +game—otherwise it's not worth playing. Also, I must admit +that there's usually a row in the billiard room on my nights +on duty. Brother Anselm makes them talk better than I +do, and I don't think he's a bit interested in their South +African experiences. I am, and they won't say a word about +them to me. I've been here a month now, so they ought to +be used to me by this time.</p> + +<p>We've just heard that the guest-house for soldiers at the +Abbey will be finished by the middle of next month, so we're +already discussing our Christmas party. The Priory, which +sounds so grand and gothic, is really the corner house of a +most depressing row of suburban villas, called Glenview +and that sort of thing. The last tenant was a traveller in +tea and had a stable instead of the usual back-garden. This +we have converted into a billiard room. An officer in one +of the regiments quartered here told us that it was the only +thing in Aldershot we had converted. The authorities aren't +very fond of us. They say we encourage the men to grumble +and give them too great idea of their own importance. +Brother Anselm asked a general once with whom we fell out +if it was possible to give a man whose profession it was to +defend his country too great an idea of his own importance. +The general merely blew out his cheeks and looked choleric. +He had no suspicion that he had been scored off. We don't +push too much religion into the men at present. We've +taught them to respect the Crucifix on the wall in the dining-room, +and sometimes they attend Vespers. But they're still +rather afraid of chaff, such as being called the Salvation +Army by their comrades. Well, here's an end to this long +letter, for I must write now to Brother Jerome, whose +name-day it is to-morrow. Love to all at the Rectory.</p> + +<p>Your ever affectionate</p> + +<p>Mark.</p></div> + +<p>Mark remained at Aldershot until the week before Christmas, +when with a party of Tommies he went back to the +Abbey. He found that Brother Chad's convalescence had +been seriously impeded in its later stages by the prospect +of having to remain at the Abbey as guest-master, and +though Mark was sorry to leave Aldershot he saw by the +way the Tommies greeted their old friend that he was dear +to their hearts. When after Christmas Brother Chad took +the party back, Mark made up his mind that the right person +was going.</p> + +<p>Mark found many changes at the Abbey during the four +months he had been away. The greatest of all was the +presence of Brother George as Prior. The legend of him +had led Mark to expect someone out of the ordinary; but he +had not been prepared for a personality as strong as this. +Brother George was six feet three inches tall, with a presence +of great dignity and much personal beauty. He had an +aquiline nose, strong chin, dark curly hair and bright imperious +eyes. His complexion, burnt by the Mediterranean +sun, made him seem in his white habit darker than he really +was. His manner was of one accustomed to be immediately +obeyed. Mark could scarcely believe when he saw Brother +Dunstan beside Brother George that only last June Brother +Dunstan was acting as Prior. As for Brother Raymond, +who had always been so voluble at recreation, one look from +Brother George sent him into a silence that was as solemn +as the disciplinary silence imposed by the rule. Brother +Birinus, who was Brother George's right hand in the Abbey +as much as he had been his right hand on the Moose Rib +farm, was even taller than the Prior; but he was lanky and +raw-boned, and had not the proportions of Brother George. +He was of a swarthy complexion, not given to talking much, +although when he did speak he always spoke to the point. +He and Brother George were hard at work ploughing up +some derelict fields which they had persuaded Sir Charles +Horner to let to the Abbey rent free on condition that they +were put back into cultivation. The patron himself had gone +away for the winter to Rome and Florence, and Mark was +glad that he had, for he was sure that otherwise his inquisitiveness +would have been severely snubbed by the Prior. +Father Burrowes went away as usual to preach after Christmas; +but before he went Mark was clothed as a novice +together with two other postulants who had been at Malford +since September. Of these Brother Giles was a former +school-master, a dried-up, tobacco-coloured little man of +about fifty, with a quick and nervous, but always precise +manner. Mark liked him, and his manual labour was done +under the direction of Brother Giles, who had been made +gardener, a post for which he was well suited. The other +new novice was Brother Nicholas whom, had Mark not been +the fellow-member of a community, he would have disliked +immensely. Brother Nicholas was one of those people who +are in a perpetual state of prurient concern about the sexual +morality of the human race. He was impervious to snubs, +of which he received many from Brother George, and he had +somehow managed to become a favourite of the Reverend +Father, so that he had been appointed guest-master, a post +that was always coveted, and one for which nobody felt +Brother Nicholas was suited.</p> + +<p>Besides the increase of numbers there had been considerable +additions made to the fabric of the Abbey, if such a +word as fabric may be applied to matchboard, felt, and corrugated +iron. Mention has already been made of the new +Guest-house, which accommodated not only soldiers invited +to spend their furloughs at the Abbey, but also tramps who +sought a night's lodging. Mark, as Porter, found his time +considerably taken up with these casuals, because as soon as +the news spread of a comfortable lodging they came begging +for shelter in greater numbers than had been anticipated. +A rule was made that they should pay for their entertainment +by doing a day's work, and it was one of Mark's duties to +report on the qualifications of these casuals to Brother +George, whose whole life was occupied with the farm that +he was creating out of those derelict fields.</p> + +<p>"There's a black man just arrived, Reverend Brother. He +says he lost his ship at Southampton through a boiler explosion, +and is tramping to Cardiff," Mark would report.</p> + +<p>"Can he plough a straight furrow?" the Prior would +demand.</p> + +<p>"I doubt it," Mark would answer with a smile. "He can't +walk straight across the dormitory."</p> + +<p>"What's he been drinking?"</p> + +<p>"Rum, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"Why did you let him in?"</p> + +<p>"It's such a stormy night."</p> + +<p>"Well, send him along to me to-morrow after Lauds, and +I'll put him to cleaning out the pigsties."</p> + +<p>Mark only had to deal with these casuals. Regular guests +like the soldiers, who were always welcome, and +ecclesiastically minded inquirers were looked after by Brother +Nicholas. One of the things for which Mark detested +Brother Nicholas was the habit he had of showing off his +poor casuals to the paying guests. It took Mark a stern +reading of St. Benedict's Rule and the observations therein +upon humility and obedience not to be rude to Brother +Nicholas sometimes.</p> + +<p>"Brother," he asked one day. "Have you ever read what +our Holy Father says about gyrovagues and sarabaites?"</p> + +<p>Brother Nicholas, who always thought that any long word +with which he was unfamiliar referred to sexual perversion, +asked what such people were.</p> + +<p>"You evidently haven't," said Mark. "Our Holy Father +disapproves of them."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so should I, Brother Mark," said Brother Nicholas +quickly. "I hate anything like that."</p> + +<p>"It struck me," Mark went on, "that most of our paying +guests are gyrovagues and sarabaites."</p> + +<p>"What an accusation to make," said Brother Nicholas, +flushing with expectant curiosity and looking down his long +nose to give the impression that it was the blush of innocence +and modesty.</p> + +<p>When, an hour or so later, he had had leisure to discover +the meaning of both terms, he came up to Mark and +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Oh, brother, how could you?"</p> + +<p>"How could I what?" Mark asked.</p> + +<p>"How could you let me think that it meant something much +worse? Why, it's nothing really. Just wandering monks."</p> + +<p>"They annoyed our Holy Father," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they did seem to make him a bit ratty. Perhaps the +translation softened it down," surmised Brother Nicholas. +"I'll get a dictionary to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The bell for solemn silence clanged, and Brother Nicholas +must have spent his quarter of an hour in most unprofitable +meditation.</p> + +<p>Another addition to the buildings was a wide, covered +verandah, which had been built on in front of the central +block, and which therefore extended the length of the Refectory, +the Library, the Chapter Room, and the Abbot's +Parlour. The last was now the Prior's Parlour, because +lodgings for Father Burrowes were being built in the Gatehouse, +the only building of stone that was being erected.</p> + +<p>This Gatehouse was to be finished as an Easter offering +to the Father Superior from devout ladies, who had been +dismayed at the imagination of his discomfort. The verandah +was granted the title of the Cloister, and the hours of +recreation were now spent here instead of in the Library as +formerly, which enabled studious brethren to read in peace.</p> + +<p>The Prior made a rule that every Sunday afternoon all +the brethren should assemble in the Cloister at tea, and spend +the hour until Vespers in jovial intercourse. He did not +actually specify that the intercourse was to be jovial, but he +look care by judicious teazing to see that it was jovial. In +his anxiety to bring his farm into cultivation, Brother George +was apt to make any monastic duty give way to manual +labour on those thistle-grown fields, and it was seldom that +there were more than a couple of brethren to say the Office +between Lauds and Vespers. The others had to be content +with crossing themselves when they heard the bell for Terce +or None, and even Sext was sparingly attended after the +Prior instituted the eating of the mid-day meal in the fields +on fine days. Hence the conversation in the Cloister on +Sunday afternoons was chiefly agricultural.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to help me drill the ten-acre field tomorrow, +Brother Giles?" the Prior asked one grey Sunday +afternoon in the middle of March.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm certainly not, Reverend Brother, unless you put +me under obedience to do so."</p> + +<p>"Then I think I shall," the Prior laughed.</p> + +<p>"If you do, Reverend Brother," the gardener retorted, +"you'll have to put my peas under obedience to sow +themselves."</p> + +<p>"Peas!" the Prior scoffed. "Who cares about peas?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Reverend Brother!" cried Brother Simon, his hair +standing up with excitement. "We couldn't do without +peas."</p> + +<p>Brother Simon was assistant cook nowadays, a post he +filled tolerably well under the supervision of the one-legged +soldier who was cook.</p> + +<p>"We couldn't do without oats," said Brother Birinus +severely.</p> + +<p>He spoke so seldom at these gatherings that when he did +few were found to disagree with him, because they felt his +words must have been deeply pondered before they were +allowed utterance.</p> + +<p>"Have you any flowers in the garden for St. Joseph?" +asked Brother Raymond, who was sacristan.</p> + +<p>"A few daffodils, that's all," Brother Giles replied.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't think that St. Joseph would like daffodils," +exclaimed Brother Raymond. "He's so fond of white +flowers, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Good gracious!" the Prior thundered. "Are we a girls' +school or a company of able-bodied men?"</p> + +<p>"Well, St. Joseph is always painted with lilies, Reverend +Brother," said the sacristan, rather sulkily.</p> + +<p>He disapproved of the way the Prior treated what he +called his pet saints.</p> + +<p>"We're not an agricultural college either," he added +in an undertone to Brother Dunstan, who shook his finger +and whispered "hush."</p> + +<p>"I doubt if we ought to keep St. Joseph's Day," said the +Prior truculently. There was nothing he enjoyed better on +these Sunday afternoons than showing his contempt for +ecclesiasticism.</p> + +<p>"Reverend Brother!" gasped Brother Dunstan. "Not keep +St. Joseph's Day?"</p> + +<p>"He's not in our calendar," Brother George argued. "If +we're going to keep St. Joseph, why not keep St. Alo—what's +his name and Philip Neri and Anthony of Padua and +Bernardine of Sienna and half-a-dozen other Italian +saints?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Brother Raymond. "At any rate we +have to keep my patron, who was a dear, even if he was a +Spaniard."</p> + +<p>The Prior looked as if he were wondering if there was +a clause in the Rule that forbade a prior to throw anything +within reach at an imbecile sacristan.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you can put St. Joseph in the same class +as the saints you have just mentioned," pompously interposed +Brother Jerome, who was cellarer nowadays and fancied that +the continued existence of the Abbey depended on himself.</p> + +<p>"Until you can learn to harness a pair of horses to +the plough," said the Prior, "your opinions on the relative +importance of Roman saints will not be accepted."</p> + +<p>"I've never been used to horses," said Brother Jerome.</p> + +<p>"And you have been used to saints?" the Prior laughed, +raising his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>Brother Jerome was silent.</p> + +<p>"Well, Brother Lawrence, what do you say?"</p> + +<p>Brother Lawrence stuck out his lower jaw and assumed +the expression of the good boy in a Sunday School class.</p> + +<p>"St. Joseph was the foster-father of Our Blessed Lord, +Reverend Brother," he said primly. "I think it would be +most disrespectful both to Our Blessed Lord and to Our +Blessed Lady if we didn't keep his feast-day, though I am +sure St. Joseph would have no objection to daffodils. No +objections at all. His whole life and character show him +to have been a man of the greatest humility and forbearance."</p> + +<p>The Prior rocked with laughter. This was the kind of +speech that sometimes rewarded his teasing.</p> + +<p>"We always kept St. Joseph's day at the Visitation, +Hornsey," Brother Nicholas volunteered. "In fact we always +made it a great feature. We found it came as such a +relief in Lent."</p> + +<p>The Prior nodded his head mockingly.</p> + +<p>"These young folk can teach us a lot about the way to +worship God, Brother Birinus," he commented.</p> + +<p>Brother Birinus scowled.</p> + +<p>"I broke three shares ploughing that bad bit of ground +by the fir trees," he announced gloomily. "I think I'll drill +in the oats to-morrow in the ten-acre. It's no good ploughing +deep," he added reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Well, I believe in deep ploughing," the Prior argued.</p> + +<p>Mark realized that Brother Birinus had deliberately +brought back the conversation to where it started in order +to put an end to the discussion about St. Joseph. He was +glad, because he himself was the only one of the brethren +who had not yet been called upon to face the Prior's contemptuous +teasing. He wondered if he should have had the +courage to speak up for St. Joseph's Day. He should have +found it difficult to oppose Brother George, whom he liked +and revered. But in this case he was wrong, and perhaps he +was also wrong to make the observation of St. Joseph's Day +a cudgel with which to belabour the brethren.</p> + +<p>The following afternoon Mark had two casuals who he +fancied might be useful to the Prior, and leaving the ward of +the gate to Brother Nicholas he took them down with him +through the coppice to where over the bleak March furrows +Brother George was ploughing that rocky strip of bad land +by the fir trees. The men were told to go and report themselves +to Brother Birinus, who with Brother Dunstan to +feed the drill was sowing oats a field or two away.</p> + +<p>"I don't think Brother Birinus will be sorry to let Brother +Dunstan go back to his domestic duties," the Prior commented +sardonically.</p> + +<p>Mark was turning to go back to <i>his</i> domestic duties when +Brother George signed to him to stop.</p> + +<p>"I suppose that like the rest of them you think I've no +business to be a monk?" Brother George began.</p> + +<p>Mark looked at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe that anybody thinks that," he said; but +even as he spoke he looked at the Prior and wondered why +he had become a monk. He did not appear, standing there in +breeches and gaiters, his shirt open at the neck, his hair +tossing in the wind, his face and form of the soil like a +figure in one of Fred Walker's pictures, no, he certainly did +not appear the kind of man who could be led away by Father +Burrowes' eloquence and persuasiveness into choosing the +method of life he had chosen. Yes, now that the question +had been put to him Mark wondered why Brother George +was a monk.</p> + +<p>"You too are astonished at me," said the Prior. "Well, +in a way I don't blame you. You've only seen me on the +land. This comes of letting myself be tempted by Horner's +offer to give us this land rent free if I would take it in hand. +And after all," he went on talking to the wide grey sky +rather than to Mark, "the old monks were great tillers of the +soil. It's right that we should maintain the tradition. Besides, +all those years in Malta I've dreamed just this. +Brother Birinus and I have stewed on those sun-baked heights +above Valetta and dreamed of this. What made you join +our Order?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>Mark told him about himself.</p> + +<p>"I see, you want to keep your hand in, eh? Well, I suppose +you might have done worse for a couple of years. Now, +I've never wanted to be a priest. The Reverend Father +would like me to be ordained, but I don't think I should make +a good priest. I believe if I were to become a priest, I should +lose my faith. That sounds a queer thing to say, and I'd +rather you didn't repeat it to any of those young men up +there."</p> + +<p>The monastery bell sounded on the wind.</p> + +<p>"Three o'clock already," exclaimed the Prior. And crossing +himself he said the short prayer offered to God instead +of the formal attendance at the Office.</p> + +<p>"Well, I mustn't let the horses get chilled. You'd better +get back to your casuals. By the way, I'm going to have +Brother Nicholas to work out here awhile, and I want you to +act as guest-master. Brother Raymond will be porter, and +I'm going to send Brother Birinus off the farm to be +sacristan. I shall miss him out here, of course."</p> + +<p>The Prior put his hand once more to the plough, and Mark +went slowly back to the Abbey. On the brow of the hill +before he plunged into the coppice he turned to look down +at the distant figure moving with slow paces across the field +below.</p> + +<p>"He's wrestling with himself," Mark thought, "more than +he's wrestling with the soil."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII" />CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>MULTIPLICATION</h3> + + +<p>At Easter the Abbey Gatehouse was blessed by the Father +Superior, who established himself in the rooms above +and allowed himself to take a holiday from his labour of +preaching. Mark expected to be made porter again, but the +Reverend Father did not attempt to change the posts assigned +to the brethren by the Prior, and Mark remained guest-master, +a duty that was likely to give him plenty of occupation +during the summer months now close at hand.</p> + +<p>On Low Sunday the Father Superior convened a full +Chapter of the Order, to which were summoned Brother +Dominic, the head of the Sandgate house, and Brother +Anselm. When the brethren, with the exception of Brother +Simon, who was still a postulant, were gathered together, +the Father Superior addressed them as follows:</p> + +<p>"Brethren, I have called this Chapter of the Order of +St. George to acquaint you with our financial position, and +to ask you to make a grave decision. Before I say any more +I ought to explain that our three professed brethren considered +that a Chapter convened to make a decision such as I +am going to ask you to make presently should not include +the novices. I contended that in the present state of our +Order where novices are called upon to fill the most responsible +positions it would be unfair to exclude them; and our +professed brethren, like true sons of St. Benedict, have +accepted my ruling. You all know what great additions to +our Mother House we have made during the past year, and +you will all realize what a burden of debt this has laid upon +the Order and on myself what a weight of responsibility. +The closing of our Malta Priory, which was too far away +to interest people in England, eased us a little. But if we are +going to establish ourselves as a permanent force in modern +religious life, we must establish our Mother House before +anything. You may say that the Order of St. George is an +Order devoted to active work among soldiers, and that we +are not concerned with the establishment of a partially contemplative +community. But all of you will recognize the +advantage it has been to you to be asked to stay here and +prepare yourselves for active work, to gather within yourselves +a great store of spiritual energy, and hoard within +your hearts a mighty treasure of spiritual strength. +Brethren, if the Order of St. George is to be worthy of its +name and of its claim we must not rest till we have a priory +in every port and garrison, and in every great city where +soldiers are stationed. Even if we had the necessary funds +to endow these priories, have we enough brethren to take +charge of them? We have not. I cannot help feeling that +I was too hasty in establishing active houses both at Aldershot +and at Sandgate, and I have convened you to-day to +ask you to vote in Chapter that the house at Sandgate be +temporarily given up, great spiritual influence though it has +proved itself under our dear Brother Dominic with the men +of Shorncliffe Camp, not only that we may concentrate our +resources and pay our debts, but also that we may have +the help of Brother Dominic himself, and of Brother +Athanasius, who has remained behind in charge and is not +here today."</p> + +<p>The Father Superior then read a statement of the Order's +financial liabilities, and invited any Brother who wished, to +speak his mind. All waited for the Prior, who after a short +silence rose:</p> + +<p>"Reverend Father and Brethren, I don't think that there +is much to say. Frankly, I am not convinced that we ought +to have spent so much on the Abbey, but having done so, +we must obviously try and put ourselves on a sound financial +basis. I should like to hear what Brother Dominic has to +say."</p> + +<p>Brother Dominic was a slight man with black hair and +a sallow complexion, whose most prominent feature was an, +immense hooked nose with thin nostrils. Whether through +the associations with his name saint, or merely by his personality, +Mark considered that he looked a typical inquisitor. +When he spoke, his lips seemed to curl in a sneer. The +expression was probably quite accidental, perhaps caused +by some difficulty in breathing, but the effect was sinister, +and his smooth voice did nothing to counteract the unpleasant +grimace. Mark wondered if he was really successful with +the men at Shorncliffe.</p> + +<p>"Reverend Father, Reverend Brother, and Brethren," said +Brother Dominic, "you can imagine that it is no easy matter +for me to destroy with a few words a house that in a small +way I had a share in building up."</p> + +<p>"The lion's share," interposed the Father Superior.</p> + +<p>"You are too generous, Reverend Father," said Brother +Dominic. "We could have done very little at Sandgate if +you had not worked so hard for us throughout the length +and breadth of England. And that is what personally I do +feel, Brethren," he continued in more emphatic tones. "I +do feel that the Reverend Father knows better than we what +is the right policy for us to adopt. I will not pretend that +I shall be anything but loath to leave Sandgate, but the future +of the whole order depends on the ability of brethren like +myself," Brother Dominic paused for the briefest instant to +flash a quick glance at Brother Anselm, "to recognize that +our usefulness to the soldiers among whom we are proud +and happy to spend our lives is bounded by our usefulness to +the Order of St. George. I give my vote without hesitation +in favour of closing the Priory at Sandgate, and abandoning +temporarily the work at Shorncliffe Camp."</p> + +<p>Nobody else spoke when Brother Dominic sat down, and +everybody voted in favour of the course of action proposed +by the Father Superior.</p> + +<p>Brother Dominic, in addition to his other work, had been +editing <i>The Dragon</i>, the monthly magazine of the Order, +and it was now decided to print this in future at the Abbey, +some constant reader having presented a fount of type. The +opening of a printing-press involved housing room, and it +was decided to devote the old kitchens to this purpose, so +that new kitchens could be built, a desirable addition in view +of the increasing numbers in the Abbey and the likelihood +of a further increase presently.</p> + +<p>Mark had not been touched by the abandonment of the +Sandgate priory until Brother Athanasius arrived. Brother +Athanasius was a florid young man with bright blue eyes, +and so much pent-up energy as sometimes to appear blustering. +He lacked any kind of ability to hide his feelings, and +he was loud in his denunciation of the Chapter that abolished +his work. His criticisms were so loud, aggressive, and +blatant, that he was nearly ordered to retire from the Order +altogether. However, the Father Superior went away to +address a series of drawing-room meetings in London, and +Brother George, with whom Brother Athanasius, almost +alone of the brethren, never hesitated to keep his end up, +discovering that he was as ready to stick up to horses and +cows, did not pay attention to the Father Superior's threat +that, if Brother Athanasius could not keep his tongue quiet, +he must be sent away. Mark made friends with him, and +when he found that, in spite of all his blatancy and self-assertion, +Brother Athanasius could not keep the tears from +his bright blue eyes whenever he spoke of Shorncliffe, he was +sorry for him and vexed with himself for accepting the surrender +of Sandgate priory so much as a matter of course, +because he had no personal experience of its work.</p> + +<p>"But was Brother Dominic really good with the men?" +Mark asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Brother Dominic was all right. Don't you try and +make me criticize Brother Dominic. He bought the gloves +and I did the fighting. Good man of business was Brother +D. I wish we could have some boxing here. Half the +brethren want punching about in my opinion. Old Brother +Jerome's face is squashed flat like a prize-fighter's, but I +bet he's never had the gloves on in his life. I'm fond of +old Brother J. But, my word, wouldn't I like to punch into +him when he gives us that pea-soup more than four times +a week. Chronic, I call it. Well, if he doesn't give us a +jolly good blow out on my name-day next week I really will +punch into him. Old Brother Flatface, as I called him the +other day. And he wasn't half angry either. Didn't we have +sport last second of May! I took a party of them all round +Hythe and Folkestone. No end of a spree!"</p> + +<p>Mark was soon too much occupied with his duties as +guestmaster to lament with Brother Athanasius the end of +the Sandgate priory. The Reverend Father's drawing-room +addresses were sending fresh visitors down every week to +see for themselves the size of the foundation that required +money, and more money, and more money still to keep it +going. In the old Chatsea days guests who visited the Mission +House were expected to provide entertainment for their +hosts. It mattered not who they were, millionaires or +paupers, parsons or laymen, undergraduates or board-school +boys, they had to share the common table, face the common +teasing, and help the common task. Here at the Abbey, +although the guests had much more opportunity of intercourse +with the brethren than would have been permitted in +a less novel monastic house, they were definitely guests, from +whom nothing was expected beyond observance of the rules +for guests. They were of all kinds, from the distinguished +lay leaders of the Catholic party to young men who thought +emotionally of joining the Order.</p> + +<p>Mark tried to conduct himself as impersonally as possible, +and in doing so he managed to impress all the visitors with +being a young man intensely preoccupied with his vocation, +and as such to be treated with gravity and a certain amount +of deference. Mark himself was anxious not to take advantage +of his position, and make friends with people that +otherwise he might not have met. Had he been sure that he +was going to remain in the Order of St. George, he would +have allowed himself a greater liberty of intercourse, because +he would not then have been afraid of one day seeing +these people in the world. He desired to be forgotten when +they left the Abbey, or if he was remembered to be remembered +only as a guestmaster who tried to make the +Monastery guests comfortable, who treated them with +courtesy, but also with reserve.</p> + +<p>None of the young men who came down to see if they +would like to be monks got as far as being accepted as a +probationer until the end of May, when a certain Mr. Arthur +Yarrell, an undergraduate from Keble College, Oxford, +whose mind was a dictionary of ecclesiastical terms, was +accepted and a month later became a postulant as Brother +Augustine, to the great pleasure of Brother Raymond, who +said that he really thought he should have been compelled +to leave the Order if somebody had not joined it with an +appreciation of historic Catholicism. Early in June Sir +Charles Horner introduced another young man called Aubrey +Wyon, whom he had met at Venice in May.</p> + +<p>"Take a little trouble over entertaining him," Sir Charles +counselled. And then, looking round to see that no thieves +or highwaymen were listening, he whispered to Mark that +Wyon had money. "He would be an asset, I fancy. And +he's seriously thinking of joining you," the baronet declared.</p> + +<p>To tell the truth, Sir Charles who was beginning to be +worried by the financial state of the Order of St. George, +would at this crisis have tried to persuade the Devil to become +a monk if the Devil would have provided a handsome dowry. +He had met Aubrey Wyon at an expensive hotel, had noticed +that he was expensively dressed and drank good wine, had +found that he was interested in ecclesiastical religion, and, +having bragged a bit about the land he had presented to the +Order of St. George, had inspired Wyon to do some bragging +of what he had done for various churches.</p> + +<p>"If I could find happiness at Malford," Wyon had said, "I +would give them all that I possess."</p> + +<p>Sir Charles had warned the Father Superior that he would +do well to accept Wyon as a probationer, should he propose +himself; and the Father Superior, who was by now as +anxious for money as a company-promoter, made himself as +pleasant to Wyon as he knew how, flattering him carefully +and giving voice to his dreams for the great stone Abbey to +be built here in days to come.</p> + +<p>Mark took an immediate and violent dislike to the newcomer, +which, had he been questioned about it, he would +have attributed to his elaborate choice of socks and tie, or to +his habit of perpetually tightening the leather belt he wore +instead of braces, as if he would compel that flabbiness of +waist caused by soft living to vanish; but to himself he +admitted that the antipathy was deeper seated.</p> + +<p>"It's like the odour of corruption," he murmured, though +actually it was the odour of hair washes and lotions and scents +that filled the guest's cell.</p> + +<p>However, Aubrey Wyon became for a week a probationer, +ludicrously known as Brother Aubrey, after which he remained +a postulant only a fortnight before he was clothed +as a novice, having by then taken the name of Anthony, +alleging that the inspiration to become a monk had been due +to the direct intervention of St. Anthony of Padua on +June 13th.</p> + +<p>Whether Brother Anthony turned the Father Superior's +head with his promises of what he intended to give the Order +when he was professed, or whether having once started he +was unable to stop, there was continuous building all that +summer, culminating in a decision to begin the Abbey Church.</p> + +<p>Mark wondered why Brother George did not protest +against the expenditure, and he came to the conclusion that +the Prior was as much bewitched by ambition for his farm +as the head of the Order was by his hope of a mighty fane.</p> + +<p>Thus things drifted during the summer, when, since the +Father Superior was not away so much, his influence was +exerted more strongly over the brethren, though at the same +time he was not attracting as much money as was now always +required in ever increasing amounts.</p> + +<p>Such preaching as he did manage later on during the +autumn was by no means so financially successful as his +campaign of the preceding year at the same time. Perhaps +the natural buoyancy of his spirit led Father Burrowes in +his disappointment to place more trust than he might otherwise +have done in Brother Anthony's plan for the benefit of +the Order. The cloister became like Aladdin's Cave whenever +there were enough brethren assembled to make an +audience for his luscious projects and prefigurations. Sundays +were the days when Brother Anthony was particularly eloquent, +and one Sunday in mid-September—it was the Feast +of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross—he surpassed himself.</p> + +<p>"My notion would be to copy," he proclaimed, "with of +course certain improvements, the buildings on Monte Cassino. +We are not quite so high here; but then on the other hand +that is an advantage, because it will enable us to allot less +space to the superficial area. Yes, I have a very soft spot +for the cloisters of Monte Cassino."</p> + +<p>Brother Anthony gazed round for the approbation of the +assembled brethren, none of whom had the least idea what +the cloisters of Monte Cassino looked like.</p> + +<p>"And I think some of our altar furniture is a little mean," +Brother Anthony continued. "I'm not advocating undue ostentation; +but there is room for improvement. They +understood so well in the Middle Ages the importance of a +rich equipment. If I'd only known when I was in Sienna +this spring that I was coming here, I should certainly have +bought a superb reredos that was offered to me comparatively +cheap. The columns were of malachite and porphyry, and +the panels of <i>rosso antico</i> with scrolls of <i>lumachella</i>. They +only asked 15,000 lire. It was absurdly cheap. However, +perhaps it would be wiser to wait till we finish the Abbey +Church before we decide on the reredos. I'm very much in +favour of beaten gold for the tabernacle. By the way, Reverend +Father, have you decided to build an ambulatory round +the clerestory? I must say I think it would be effective, and +of course for meditation unique. I shall have to find if my +money will run to it. Oh, and Brother Birinus, weren't you +saying the other day that the green vestments were rather +faded? Don't worry. I'm only waiting to make up my mind +between velvet and brocade for the purple set to order a +completely new lot, including a set in old rose damask for +mid-Lent. It always seems to me such a mistake not to take +advantage of that charming use."</p> + +<p>Father Burrowes was transported to the days of his youth +at Malta when his own imagination was filled with visions +of precious metals, of rare fabrics and mighty architecture.</p> + +<p>"A silver chalice of severe pattern encrusted round the +stem with blue zircons," Brother Anthony was chanting in +his melodious voice, his eyes bright with the reflection of +celestial splendours. "And perhaps another in gold with the +sacred monogram wrought on the cup in jacinths and orange +tourmalines. Yes, I'll talk it over with Sir Charles and get +him to approve the design."</p> + +<p>The next morning two detectives came to Malford Abbey, +and arrested Aubrey Wyon alias Brother Anthony for obtaining +money under false pretences in various parts of the +world. With them he departed to prison and a life more +ascetic than any he had hitherto known. Brother Anthony +departed indeed, but he was not discredited until it was too +late. His grandiose projects and extravagant promises had +already incited Father Burrowes to launch out on several new +building operations that the Order could ill afford.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the cloister had been less like the Cave of Aladdin +than the Cave of the Forty Thieves.</p> + +<p>After Christmas another Chapter was convened, to which +Brother Anselm and Brother Chad were both bidden. The +Father Superior addressed the brethren as he had addressed +them a year ago, and finished up his speech by announcing +that, deeply as he regretted it, he felt bound to propose that +the Aldershot priory should be closed.</p> + +<p>"What?" shouted Brother Anselm, leaping to his feet, +his eyes blazing with wrath through his great horn spectacles.</p> + +<p>The Prior quickly rose to say that he could not agree to +the Reverend Father's suggestion. It was impossible for +them any longer to claim that they were an active Order if +they confined themselves entirely to the Abbey. He had not +opposed the shutting down of the Sandgate priory, nor, he +would remind the Reverend Father, had he offered any resistance +to the abandonment of Malta. But he felt obliged +to give his opinion strongly in favour of making any sacrifice +to keep alive the Aldershot priory.</p> + +<p>Brother George had spoken with force, but without eloquence; +and Mark was afraid that his speech had not carried +much weight.</p> + +<p>The next to rise was Brother Birinus, who stood up as tall +as a tree and said:</p> + +<p>"I agree with Brother George."</p> + +<p>And when he sat down it was as if a tree had been +uprooted.</p> + +<p>There was a pause after this, while every brother looked +at his neighbour, waiting for him to rise at this crisis in the +history of the Order. At last the Father Superior asked +Brother Anselm if he did not intend to speak.</p> + +<p>"What can I say?" asked Brother Anselm bitterly. "Last +year I should have been true to myself and voted against +the closing of the Sandgate house. I was silent then in my +egoism. I am not fit to defend our house now."</p> + +<p>"But I will," cried Brother Chad, rising. "Begging your +pardon, Reverend Father and Brethren, if I am speaking too +soon, but I cannot believe that you seriously consider closing +us down. We're just beginning to get on well with the +authorities, and we've a regular lot of communicants now. +We began as just a Club, but we're something more than a +Club now. We're bringing men to Our Lord, Brethren. +You will do a great wrong if you let those poor souls think +that for the sake of your own comfort you are ready to forsake +them. Forgive me, Reverend Father. Forgive me, dear +Brethren, if I have said too much and spoken uncharitably."</p> + +<p>"He has not spoken uncharitably enough," Brother +Athanasius shouted, rising to his feet, and as he did so unconsciously +assuming the attitude of a boxer. "If I'd been +here last year, I should have spoken much more uncharitably. +I did not join this Order to sit about playing with vestments. +I wanted to bring soldiers to God. If this Order is to be +turned into a kind of male nunnery, I'm off to-morrow. I'm +boiling over, that's what I am, boiling over. If we can't +afford to do what we should be doing, we can't afford to +build gatehouses, and lay out flower-beds, and sit giggling +in tin cloisters. It's the limit, that's what it is, the limit."</p> + +<p>Brother Athanasius stood there flushed with defiance, until +the Father Superior told him to sit down and not make a fool +of himself, a command which, notwithstanding that the feeling +of the Chapter had been so far entirely against the head +of the Order, such was the Father Superior's authority, +Brother Athanasius immediately obeyed.</p> + +<p>Brother Dominic now rose to try, as he said, to bring an +atmosphere of reasonableness into the discussion.</p> + +<p>"I do not think that I can be accused of inconsistency," +he pointed out smoothly, "when we look back to our general +Chapter of a year ago. Whatever my personal feelings were +about closing the Sandgate priory, I recognized at once that +the Reverend Father was right. There is really no doubt +that we must be strong at the roots before we try to grow +into a tall tree. However flourishing the branches, they will +wither if the roots are not fed. The Reverend Father has +no desire, as I understand him, to abandon the activity of the +Order. He is merely anxious to establish us on a firm basis. +The Reverend Brother said that we should make any sacrifice +to maintain the Aldershot house. I have no desire to +accuse the Reverend Brother of inconsistency, but I would +ask him if he is willing to give up the farm, which, as you +know, has cost so far a great deal more than we could afford. +But of course the Reverend Brother would give up the farm. +At the same time, we do not want him to give it up. We +realize that under his capable guidance that farm will presently +be a source of profit. Therefore, I beg the Reverend +Brother to understand that I am making a purely rhetorical +point when I ask him if he is prepared to give up the farm. +I repeat, we do not want the farm given up.</p> + +<p>"Another point which I feel has been missed. In giving +up Aldershot, we are not giving up active work entirely. +We have a good deal of active work here. We have our +guest-house for casuals, and we are always ready to +feed, clothe, and shelter any old soldiers who come to us. +We are still young as an Order. We have only four professed +monks, including the Reverend Father. We want to +have more than that before we can consider ourselves established. +I for one should hesitate to take my final vows until +I had spent a long time in strict religious preparation, which +in the hurry and scurry of active work is impossible. We +have listened to a couple of violent speeches, or at any rate +to one violent speech by a brother who was for a year in +close touch with myself. I appeal to him not to drag the +discussion down to the level of lay politics. We are free, +we novices, to leave to-morrow. Let us remember that, and +do not let us take advantage of our freedom to impart to this +Mother House of ours the atmosphere of the world to which +we may return when we will.</p> + +<p>"And let us remember when we oppose the judgment of +the Reverend Father that we are exalting ourselves without +reason. Let us remember that it is he who by his eloquence +and by his devotion and by his endurance and by his personality, +has given us this wonderful house. Are we to turn +round and say to him who has worked so hard for us that +we do not want his gifts, that we are such wonderful fishers +of men that we can be independent of him? Oh, my dear +Brethren, let me beg you to vote in favour of abandoning +all our dependencies until we are ourselves no longer dependent +on the Reverend Father's eloquence and devotion +and endurance and personality. God has blessed us infinitely. +Are we to fling those blessings in His face?"</p> + +<p>Brother Dominic sat down; after him in succession Brother +Raymond, Brother Dunstan, Brother Lawrence, Brother +Jerome, Brother Nicholas, and Brother Augustine spoke in +support of the Father Superior. Brother Giles refused to +speak, and though Mark's heart was thundering in his mouth +with unuttered eloquence, at the moment he should rise he +could not find a word, and he indicated with a sign that like +Brother Giles, he had nothing to say.</p> + +<p>"The voting will be by ballot," the Reverend Father announced. +"It is proposed to give up the Priory at Aldershot. +Let those brethren who agree write Yes on a strip of paper. +Let those who disagree write No."</p> + +<p>All knelt in silent prayer before they inscribed their will; +after which they advanced one by one to the ballot-box, into +which under the eyes of a large crucifix they dropped their +papers. The Father Superior did not vote. Brother Simon, +who was still a postulant, and not eligible to sit in Chapter, +was fetched to count the votes. He was much excited at his +task, and when he announced that seven papers were inscribed +Yes, that six were inscribed No, and that one paper was +blank, his teeth were chattering.</p> + +<p>"One paper blank?" somebody repeated.</p> + +<p>"Yes, really," said Brother Simon. "I looked everywhere, +and there's not a mark on it."</p> + +<p>All turned involuntarily toward Mark, whose paper in +fact it was, although he gave no sign of being conscious of +the ownership.</p> + +<p>"<i>In a General Chapter of the Order of St. George, held +upon the Vigil of the Epiphany of our Lord Jesus Christ, +in the year of Grace, 1903, it was resolved to close the Priory +of the Order in the town of Aldershot.</i>"</p> + +<p>The Reverend Father, having invoked the Holy Trinity, +declared the Chapter dissolved.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII" />CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>DIVISION</h3> + + +<p>Mark was vexed with himself for evading the responsibility +of recording his opinion. His vote would not +have changed the direction of the policy; but if he had voted +against giving up the house at Aldershot, the Father Superior +would have had to record the casting vote in favour of his +own proposal, and whatever praise or blame was ultimately +awarded to the decision would have belonged to him alone, +who as head of the Order was best able to bear it. Mark's +whole sympathy had been on the side of Brother George, +and as one who had known at first hand the work in Aldershot, +he did feel that it ought not to be abandoned so easily. +Then when Brother Athanasius was speaking, Mark, in his +embarrassment at such violence of manner and tone, picked +up a volume lying on the table by his elbow that by reading +he might avoid the eyes of his brethren until Brother +Athanasius had ceased to shout. It was the Rule of St. +Benedict which, with a print of Fra Angelico's Crucifixion +and an image of St. George, was all the decoration allowed +to the bare Chapter Room, and the page at which Mark +opened the leather-bound volume was headed: DE PRAEPOSITO +MONASTERII.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>"It happens too often that through the appointment of +the Prior grave scandals arise in monasteries, since some +there be who, puffed up with a malignant spirit of pride, +imagining themselves to be second Abbots, and assuming +unto themselves a tyrannous authority, encourage scandals +and create dissensions in the community. . . .</i></p> + +<p><i>"Hence envy is excited, strife, evil-speaking, jealousy, +discord, confusion; and while the Abbot and the Prior run +counter to each other, by such dissension their souls must +of necessity be imperilled; and those who are under them, +when they take sides, are travelling on the road to perdition. . . .</i></p> + +<p><i>"On this account we apprehend that it is expedient for +the preservation of peace and good-will that the management +of his monastery should be left to the discretion of the +Abbot. . . .</i></p> + +<p><i>"Let the Prior carry out with reverence whatever shall be +enjoined upon him by his Abbot, doing nothing against the +Abbot's will, nor against his orders. . . ."</i></p></div> + +<p>Mark could not be otherwise than impressed by what he +read.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Ii qui sub ipsis sunt, dum adulantur partibus, eunt in +perditionem. . . .</i></p> + +<p><i>Nihil contra Abbatis voluntatem faciens. . . .</i></p></div> + +<p>Mark looked up at the figure of St. Benedict standing in +that holy group at the foot of the Cross.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Ideoque nos proevidemus expedire, propter pacis caritatisque +custodiam, in Abbatis pendere arbitrio ordinationem +monasterii sui. . . .</i></p></div> + +<p>St. Benedict had more than apprehended; he had actually +foreseen that the Abbot ought to manage his own monastery. +It was as if centuries ago, in the cave at Subiaco, he had +heard that strident voice of Brother Athanasius in this matchboarded +Chapter-room, as if he had beheld Brother Dominic, +while apparently he was striving to persuade his brethren to +accept the Father Superior's advice, nevertheless taking sides, +and thereby travelling along the road that leads toward +destruction. This was the thought that paralyzed Mark's +tongue when it was his turn to speak, and this was why he +would not commit himself to an opinion. Afterward, his +neutrality appeared to him a weak compromise, and he regretted +that he had not definitely allied himself with one +party or the other.</p> + +<p>The announcement in <i>The Dragon</i> that the Order had been +compelled to give up the Aldershot house produced a large +sum of sympathetic contributions; and when the Father +Superior came back just before Lent, he convened another +Chapter, at which he told the Community that it was imperative +to establish a priory in London before they tried to +reopen any houses elsewhere. His argument was cogent, and +once again there was the appearance of unanimity among +the Brethren, who all approved of the proposal. It had +always been the custom of Father Burrowes to preach his +hardest during Lent, because during that season of self-denial +he was able to raise more money than at any other +time, but until now he had never failed to be at the Abbey +at the beginning of Passion Week, nor to remain there until +Easter was over.</p> + +<p>The Feast of St. Benedict fell upon the Saturday before +the fifth Sunday in Lent, and the Father Superior, who had +travelled down from the North in order to be present, announced +that he considered it would be prudent, so freely +was the money flowing in, not to give up preaching this year +during Passion Week and Holy Week. Naturally, he did +not intend to leave the Community without a priest at such +a season, and he had made arrangements with the Reverend +Andrew Hett to act as chaplain until he could come back +into residence himself.</p> + +<p>Brother Raymond and Brother Augustine were particularly +thrilled by the prospect of enjoying the ministrations +of Andrew Hett, less perhaps because they would otherwise +be debarred from their Easter duties than because they looked +forward to services and ceremonies of which they felt they +had been robbed by the austere Anglicanism of Brother +George.</p> + +<p>"Andrew Hett is famous," declared Brother Raymond at +the pitch of exultation. "It was he who told the Bishop of +Ipswich that if the Bishop made him give up Benediction he +would give up singing Morning and Evening Prayer."</p> + +<p>"That must have upset the Bishop," said Mark. "I suppose +he resigned his bishopric."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought that you, Brother Mark, would +have been the last one to take the part of a bishop when he +persecutes a Catholic priest!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not taking the part of the Bishop," Mark replied. +"But I think it was a silly remark for a curate to make. It +merely put him in the wrong, and gave the Bishop an opportunity +to score."</p> + +<p>The Prior had questioned the policy of engaging Andrew +Hett as Chaplain, even for so brief a period as a month. +He argued that, inasmuch as the Bishop of Silchester had +twice refused to licence him to parishes in the diocese, it +would prejudice the Bishop against the Order of St. George, +and might lead to his inhibiting the Father Superior later +on, should an excuse present itself.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, my dear Brother George," said the Reverend +Father. "He won't know anything about it officially, and in +any case ours is a private oratory, where refusals to licence +and episcopal inhibitions have no effect."</p> + +<p>"That's not my point," argued Brother George. "My point +is that any communication with a notorious ecclesiastical outlaw +like this fellow Hett is liable to react unfavourably upon +us. Why can't we get down somebody else? There must be +a number of unemployed elderly priests who would be glad +of the holiday."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid that I've offered Hett the job now, so let us +make up our minds to be content."</p> + +<p>Mark, who was doing secretarial work for the Reverend +Father, happened to be present during this conversation, +which distressed him, because it showed him that the Prior +was still at variance with the Abbot, a state of affairs that +was ultimately bound to be disastrous for the Community. +He withdrew almost immediately on some excuse to the +Superior's inner room, whence he intended to go downstairs +to the Porter's Lodge until the Prior was gone. Unfortunately, +the door of the inner room was locked, and before he +could explain what had happened, a conversation had begun +which he could not help overhearing, but which he dreaded +to interrupt.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid, dear Brother George," the Reverend Father +was saying, "I'm very much afraid that you are beginning +to think I have outlived my usefulness as Superior of the +Order."</p> + +<p>"I've never suggested that," Brother George replied +angrily.</p> + +<p>"You may not have meant to give that impression, but +certainly that is what you have succeeded in making me feel +personally," said the Superior.</p> + +<p>"I have been associated with you long enough to be entitled +to express my opinion in private."</p> + +<p>"In private, yes. But are you always careful only to do +so in private? I'm not complaining. My only desire is the +prosperity and health of the Order. Next Christmas I am +ready to resign, and let the brethren elect another Superior-general."</p> + +<p>"That's talking nonsense," said the Prior. "You know as +well as I do that nobody else except you could possibly be +Superior. But recently I happen to have had a better opportunity +than you to criticize our Mother House, and frankly +I'm not satisfied with the men we have. Few of them will +be any use to us. Birinus, Anselm, Giles, Chad, Athanasius +if properly suppressed, Mark, these in varying degrees, have +something in them, but look at the others! Dominic, ambitious +and sly, Jerome, a pompous prig, Dunstan, a nincompoop, +Raymond, a milliner, Nicholas, a—well, you know what +I think Nicholas is, Augustine, another nincompoop, Lawrence, +still at Sunday School, and poor Simon, a clown. I've +had a dozen probationers through my hands, and not one of +them was as good as what we've got. I'm afraid I'm less +hopeful of the future than I was in Canada."</p> + +<p>"I notice, dear Brother George," said the Father Superior, +"that you are prejudiced in favour of the brethren who follow +your lead with a certain amount of enthusiasm. That is +very natural. But I'm not so pessimistic about the others +as you are. Perhaps you feel that I am forgetting how much +the Order owes to your generosity in the past. Believe me, I +have forgotten nothing. At the same time, you gave your +money with your eyes open. You took your vows without +being pressed. Don't you think you owe it to yourself, if +not to the Order or to me personally, to go through with +what you undertook? Your three vows were Chastity, Poverty, +and Obedience."</p> + +<p>There was no answer from the Prior; a moment later he +shut the door behind him, and went downstairs alone. Mark +came into the room at once.</p> + +<p>"Reverend Father," he said. "I'm sorry to have to tell +you that I overheard what you and the Reverend Brother +were saying." He went on to explain how this had happened, +and why he had not liked to make his presence known.</p> + +<p>"You thought the Reverend Brother would not bear the +mortification with as much fortitude as myself?" the Father +Superior suggested with a faint smile.</p> + +<p>It struck Mark how true this was, and he looked in astonishment +at Father Burrowes, who had offered him the key +to his action.</p> + +<p>"Well, we must forget what we heard, my son," said the +Father Superior. "Sit down, and let's finish off these +letters."</p> + +<p>An hour's work was done, at the end of which the Reverend +Father asked Mark if his had been the blank paper +when the votes were counted in Chapter, and when Mark +admitted that it had been, he pressed him for the reason of +his neutrality.</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure that it oughtn't to be called indecision," said +Mark. "I was personally interested in the keeping on of +Aldershot, because I had worked there."</p> + +<p>"Then why not have voted for doing so?" the Superior +asked, in accents that were devoid of the least grudge +against Mark for disagreeing with himself.</p> + +<p>"I tried to get rid of my personal opinion," Mark explained. +"I tried to look at the question strictly from the +standpoint of the member of a community. As such I felt +that the Reverend Brother was wrong to run counter to his +Superior. At the same time, if you'll forgive me for saying +so, I felt that you were wrong to give up Aldershot. I simply +could not arrive at a decision between the two opinions."</p> + +<p>"I do not blame you, my son, for your scrupulous cast of +mind. Only beware of letting it chill your enthusiasm. +Satan may avail himself of it one day, and attack your faith. +Solomon was just. Our Blessed Lord, by our cowardly +standards, was unjust. Remembering the Gadarene swine, +the barren fig-tree, the parable of the wedding-guest without +a garment, Martha and Mary. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Martha and Mary!" interrupted Mark. "Why, that +was really the point at issue. And the ointment that might +have been sold for the benefit of the poor. Yes, Judas would +have voted with the Reverend Brother."</p> + +<p>"And Pontius Pilate would have remained neutral," added +Father Burrowes, his blue eyes glittering with delight at the +effect upon Mark of his words.</p> + +<p>But when Mark was walking back to the Abbey down the +winding drive among the hazels, he wished that he and not +the Reverend Father had used that illustration. However, +useless regrets for his indecision in the matter of the priory +at Aldershot were soon obliterated by a new cause of division, +which was the arrival of the Reverend Andrew Hett on the +Vigil of the Annunciation, just in time to sing first Vespers.</p> + +<p>It fell to Mark's lot to entertain the new chaplain that evening, +because Brother Jerome who had become guest-master +when Brother Anselm took his place as cellarer was in the +infirmary. Mark was scarcely prepared for the kind of personality +that Hett's proved to be. He had grown accustomed +during his time at the Abbey to look down upon the protagonists +of ecclesiastical battles, so little else did any of +the guests who visited them want to discuss, so much awe +was lavished upon them by Brother Raymond and Brother +Augustine. It did not strike Mark that the fight at St. +Agnes' might appear to the large majority of people as much +a foolish squabble over trifles, a cherishing of the letter +rather than the spirit of Christian worship, as the dispute +between Mr. So-and-so and the Bishop of Somewhere-or-other +in regard to his use of the Litany of the Saints in +solemn procession on high days and holy days.</p> + +<p>Andrew Hett revived in Mark his admiration of the bigot, +which would have been a dangerous thing to lose in one's +early twenties. The chaplain was a young man of perhaps +thirty-five, tall, raw-boned, sandy-haired, with a complexion +of extreme pallor. His light-blue eyes were very red round +the rims, and what eyebrows he possessed slanted up at a +diabolic angle. His voice was harsh, high, and rasping as a +guinea fowl's. When Mark brought him his supper, Hett +asked him several questions about the Abbey time-table, and +then said abruptly:</p> + +<p>"The ugliness of this place must be soul-destroying."</p> + +<p>Mark looked at the Guest-chamber with new eyes. There +was such a force of assertion in Hett's tone that he could +not contradict him, and indeed it certainly was ugly.</p> + +<p>"Nobody can live with matchboarded walls and ceilings +and not suffer for it," Hett went on. "Why didn't you buy +an old tithe barn and live in that? It's an insult to Almighty +God to worship Him in such surroundings."</p> + +<p>"This is only a beginning," Mark pointed out.</p> + +<p>"A very bad beginning," Hett growled. "Such brutalizing +ugliness would be inexcusable if you were leading an active +life. But I gather that you claim to be contemplative here. +I've been reading your ridiculous monthly paper <i>The Dragon</i>. +Full of sentimental bosh about bringing back the glories of +monasticism to England. Tintern was not built of tin. How +can you contemplate Almighty God here? It's not possible. +What Divine purpose is served by collecting men under hundreds +of square feet of corrugated iron? I'm astonished at +Charles Horner. I thought he knew better than to encourage +this kind of abomination."</p> + +<p>There was only one answer to make to Hett, which was +that the religious life of the Community did not depend upon +any externals, least of all upon its lodging; but when Mark +tried to frame this answer, his lips would not utter the +words. In that moment he knew that it was time for him +to leave Malford and prepare himself to be a priest elsewhere, +and otherwise than by what the Rector had stigmatized as the +pseudo-monastic life.</p> + +<p>Mark wondered when he had left the chaplain to his +ferocious meditations what would have been the effect of +that diatribe upon some of his brethren. He smiled to himself, +as he sat over his solitary supper in the Refectory, +to picture the various expressions he could imagine upon their +faces when they came hotfoot from the Guest-chamber with +the news of what manner of priest was in their midst. And +while he was sipping his bowl of pea-soup, he looked up at +the image of St. George and perceived that the dragon's +expression bore a distinct resemblance to that of the Reverend +Andrew Hett. That night it seemed to Mark, in one +of those waking trances that occur like dreams between one +disturbed sleep and another, that the presence of the chaplain +was shaking the flimsy foundations of the Abbey with +such ruthlessness that the whole structure must soon collapse.</p> + +<p>"It's only the wind," he murmured, with that half of his +mind which was awake. "March is going out like a dragon."</p> + +<p>After Mass next day, when Mark was giving the chaplain +his breakfast, the latter asked who kept the key of the +tabernacle.</p> + +<p>"Brother Birinus, I expect. He is the sacristan."</p> + +<p>"It ought to have been given to me before Mass. Please +go and ask for it," requested the chaplain.</p> + +<p>Mark found Brother Birinus in the Sacristy, putting away +the white vestments in the press. When Mark gave him the +chaplain's message, Brother Birinus told him that the Reverend +Brother had the key.</p> + +<p>"What does he want the key for?" asked Brother George +when Mark had repeated to him the chaplain's request.</p> + +<p>"He probably wishes to change the Host," Mark suggested.</p> + +<p>"There is no need to do that. And I don't believe that +is the reason. I believe he wants to have Benediction. He's +not going to have Benediction here."</p> + +<p>Mark felt that it was not his place to argue with the +Reverend Brother, and he merely asked him what reply he +was to give to the chaplain.</p> + +<p>"Tell him that the key of the Tabernacle is kept by me +while the Reverend Father is away, and that I regret I cannot +give it to him."</p> + +<p>The priest's eyes blazed with anger when Mark returned +without the key.</p> + +<p>"Who is the Reverend Brother?" he rasped.</p> + +<p>"Brother George."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but what is he? Apothecary, tailor, ploughboy, +what?"</p> + +<p>"Brother George is the Prior."</p> + +<p>"Well, please tell the Prior that I should like to speak to +him instantly."</p> + +<p>When Mark found Brother George he had already doffed +his habit, and was dressed in his farmer's clothes to go working +on the land.</p> + +<p>"I'll speak to Mr. Hett before Sext. Meanwhile, you can +assure him that the key of the Tabernacle is perfectly safe. +I wear it round my neck."</p> + +<p>Brother George pulled open his shirt, and showed Mark +the golden key hanging from a cord.</p> + +<p>On receiving the Prior's message, the chaplain asked for +a railway time-table.</p> + +<p>"I see there is a fast train at 10.30. Please order the +trap."</p> + +<p>"You're not going to leave us?" Mark exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose, Brother Mark, that no bishop in the +Establishment will receive me in his diocese because I am +accustomed to give way? I should not have asked for the +key of the Tabernacle unless I thought that it was my duty +to ask for it. I cannot take it from the Reverend Brother's +neck. I will not stay here without its being given up to me. +Please order the trap in time to catch the 10.30 train."</p> + +<p>"Surely you will see the Reverend Brother first," Mark +urged. "I should have made it clear to you that he is out +in the fields, and that all the work of the farm falls upon +his shoulders. It cannot make any difference whether you +have the key now or before Sext. And I'm sure the Reverend +Brother will see your point of view when you put it +to him."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to argue about the custody of God," said +the chaplain. "I should consider such an argument blasphemy, +and I consider the Prior's action in refusing to give +up the key sacrilege. Please order the trap."</p> + +<p>"But if you sent a telegram to the Reverend Father . . . +Brother Dominic will know where he is . . . I'm sure that +the Reverend Father will put it right with Brother George, +and that he will at once give you the key."</p> + +<p>"I was summoned here as a priest," said the chaplain. "If +the amateur monk left in charge of this monastery does not +understand the prerogatives of my priesthood, I am not concerned +to teach him except directly."</p> + +<p>"Well, will you wait until I've found the Reverend Brother +and told him that you intend to leave us unless he gives you +the key?" Mark begged, in despair at the prospect of what +the chaplain's departure would mean to a Community already +too much divided against itself.</p> + +<p>"It is not one of my prerogatives to threaten the prior +of a monastery, even if he is an amateur," said the chaplain. +"From the moment that Brother George refuses to recognize +my position, I cease to hold that position. Please order the +trap."</p> + +<p>"You won't have to leave till half-past nine," said Mark, +who had made up his mind to wrestle with Brother George +on his own initiative, and if possible to persuade him to surrender +the key to the chaplain of his own accord. With this +object he hurried out, to find Brother George ploughing that +stony ground by the fir-trees. He was looking ruefully at +a broken share when Mark approached him.</p> + +<p>"Two since I started," he commented.</p> + +<p>But he was breaking more precious things than shares, +thought Mark, if he could but understand.</p> + +<p>"Let the fellow go," said Brother George coldly, when +Mark had related his interview with the chaplain.</p> + +<p>"But, Reverend Brother, if he goes we shall have no priest +for Easter."</p> + +<p>"We shall be better off with no priest than with a fellow +like that."</p> + +<p>"Reverend Brother," said Mark miserably, "I have no right +to remonstrate with you, I know. But I must say something. +You are making a mistake. You will break up the Community. +I am not speaking on my own account now, because +I have already made up my mind to leave, and get +ordained. But the others! They're not all strong like you. +They really are not. If they feel that they have been deprived +of their Easter Communion by you . . . and have you +the right to deprive them? After all, Father Hett has reason +on his side. He is entitled to keep the key of the Tabernacle. +If he wishes to hold Benediction, you can forbid him, or at +least you can forbid the brethren to attend. But the key of +the Tabernacle belongs to him, if he says Mass there. +Please forgive me for speaking like this, but I love you and +respect you, and I cannot bear to see you put yourself in +the wrong."</p> + +<p>The Prior patted Mark on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, Brother," he said. "You mustn't mind if I +think that I know better than you what is good for the Community. +I have had a longer time to learn, you must remember. +And so you're going to leave us?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I don't want to talk about that now," Mark said.</p> + +<p>"Nor do I," said Brother George. "I want to get on with +my ploughing."</p> + +<p>Mark saw that it was as useless to argue with him as +attempt to persuade the chaplain to stay. He turned sadly +away, and walked back with heavy steps towards the Abbey. +Overhead, the larks, rising and falling upon their fountains +of song, seemed to mock the way men worshipped Almighty +God.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX" />CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>SUBTRACTION</h3> + + +<p>Mark had not spent a more unhappy Easter since the +days of Haverton House. He was oppressed by the +sense of excommunication that brooded over the Abbey, and +on the Saturday of Passion Week the versicles and responses +of the proper Compline had a dreadful irony.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>V. O King most Blessed, govern Thy servants in the right way.</i><br /></span> +<span><i>R. Among Thy Saints, O King most Blessed.</i><br /></span> +<span><i>V. By holy fasts to amend our sinful lives.</i><br /></span> +<span><i>R. O King most Blessed, govern Thy Saints in the right way.</i><br /></span> +<span><i>V. To duly keep Thy Paschal Feast.</i><br /></span> +<span><i>R. Among Thy Saints, O King most Blessed.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Brother Mark," said Brother Augustine, on the morning +of Palm Sunday, "<i>did</i> you notice that ghastly split infinitive +in the last versicle at Compline? <i>To duly keep.</i> I can't think +why we don't say the Office in Latin."</p> + +<p>Mark felt inclined to tell Brother Augustine that if nothing +more vital than an infinitive was split during this holy season, +the Community might have cause to congratulate itself. +Here now was Brother Birinus throwing away as useless the +bundle of palms that lacked the blessing of a priest, throwing +them away like dead flowers.</p> + +<p>Sir Charles Horner, who had been in town, arrived at the +Abbey on the Tuesday, and announced that he was going to +spend Holy Week with the Community.</p> + +<p>"We have no chaplain," Mark told him.</p> + +<p>"No chaplain!" Sir Charles exclaimed. "But I understood +that Andrew Hett had undertaken the job while Father +Burrowes was away."</p> + +<p>Mark did not think that it was his duty to enlighten Sir +Charles upon the dispute between Brother George and the +chaplain. However, it was not long before he found out +what had occurred from the Prior's own lips and came +fuming back to the Guest-chamber.</p> + +<p>"I consider the whole state of affairs most unsatisfactory," +he said. "I really thought that when Brother George took +charge here the Abbey would be better managed."</p> + +<p>"Please, Sir Charles," Mark begged, "you make it very +uncomfortable for me when you talk like that about the +Reverend Brother before me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I must give my opinion. I have a right to +criticize when I am the person who is responsible for the +Abbey's existence here. It's all very fine for Brother George +to ask me to notify Bazely at Wivelrod that the brethren +wish to go to their Easter duties in his church. Bazely is +a very timid man. I've already driven him into doing more +than he really likes, and my presence in his church doesn't +alarm the parishioners. In fact, they rather like it. But +they won't like to see the church full of monks on Easter +morning. They'll be more suspicious than ever of what they +call poor Bazely's innovations. It's not fair to administer +such a shock to a remote country parish like Wivelrod, +especially when they're just beginning to get used to the +vestments I gave them. It seems to me that you've deliberately +driven Andrew Hett away from the Abbey, and I +don't see why poor Bazely should be made to suffer. How +many monks are you now? Fifteen? Why, fifteen bulls in +Wivelrod church would create less dismay!"</p> + +<p>Sir Charles's protest on behalf of the Vicar of Wivelrod +was effective, for the Prior announced that after all he had +decided that it was the duty of the Community to observe +Easter within the Abbey gates. The Reverend Father would +return on Easter Tuesday, and their Easter duties would be +accomplished within the Octave. Withal, it was a gloomy +Easter for the brethren, and when they began the first Vespers +with the quadruple Alleluia, it seemed as if they were +still chanting the sorrowful antiphons of Good Friday.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>My spirit is vexed within Me: and My heart within Me is +desolate.</i></p> + +<p><i>Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by: behold and see if +there be any sorrow like unto My sorrow, which is done unto +Me.</i></p> + +<p><i>What are these wounds in Thy Hands: Those with which +I was wounded in the house of My friends.</i></p></div> + +<p>Nor was there rejoicing in the Community when at Lauds +of Easter Day they chanted:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>V. In Thy Resurrection, O Christ.</i><br /></span> +<span><i>R. Let Heaven and earth rejoice, Alleluia.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Nor when at Prime and Terce and Sext and None they +chanted:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice +and be glad in it.</i></p></div> + +<p>And when at the second Vespers the Brethren declared:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>V. Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us, therefore let us keep the Feast.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>R. Not with the old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness; but with the unleavened Bread of sincerity and truth. Alleluia.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>scarcely could they who chanted the versicle challenge with +their eyes those who hung down their heads when they gave +the response.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The hour of recreation before Compline, which upon great +Feasts was wont to be so glad, lay heavily upon the brethren +that night, so that Mark could not bear to sit in the Cloister; +there being no guests in the Abbey for his attention, he sat +in the library and wrote to the Rector.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Abbey,</p> + +<p>Malford, Surrey.</p> + +<p>Easter Sunday.</p> + +<p>My dear Rector,</p> + +<p>I should have written before to wish you all a happy +Easter, but I've been making up my mind during the last +fortnight to leave the Order, and I did not want to write +until my mind was made up. That feat is now achieved. +I shall stay here until St. George's Day, and then the next +day, which will be St. Mark's Eve, I shall come home to +spend my birthday with you. I do not regret the year and +six months that I have spent at Malford and Aldershot, +because during that time, if I have decided not to be a monk, +I am none the less determined to be a priest. I shall be 23 +this birthday, and I hope that I shall find a Bishop to ordain +me next year and a Theological College to accept responsibility +for my training and a beneficed priest to give me a +title. I will give you a full account of myself when we meet +at the end of the month; but in this letter, written in sad +circumstances, I want to tell you that I have learnt with the +soul what I have long spoken with the lips—the need of God. +I expect you will tell me that I ought to have learnt that +lesson long ago upon that Whit-Sunday morning in Meade +Cantorum church. But I think I was granted then by God +to desire Him with my heart. I was scarcely old enough +to realize that I needed Him with my soul. "You're not so +old now," I hear you say with a smile. But in a place like +this one learns almost more than one would learn in the +world in the time. One beholds human nature very intimately. +I know more about my fellow-men from association +with two or three dozen people here than I learnt at St. +Agnes' from association with two or three hundred. This +much at least my pseudo-monasticism has taught me.</p> + +<p>We have passed through a sad time lately at the Abbey, +and I feel that for the Community sorrows are in store. +You know from my letters that there have been divisions, +and you know how hard I have found it to decide which +party I ought to follow. But of course the truth is that +from the moment one feels the inclination to side with a +party in a community it is time to leave that community. +Owing to an unfortunate disagreement between Brother +George and the Reverend Andrew Hett, who came down to +act as chaplain during the absence of the Reverend Father, +Andrew Hett felt obliged to leave us. The consequence is +we have had no Mass this Easter, and thus I have learned +with my soul to need God. I cannot describe to you the +torment of deprivation which I personally feel, a torment +that is made worse by the consciousness that all my brethren +will go to their cells to-night needing God and not finding +Him, because they like myself are involved in an earthly +quarrel, so that we are incapable of opening our hearts to +God this night. You may say that if we were in such a +state we should have had no right to make our Easter Communion. +But that surely is what Our Blessed Lord can do +for us with His Body and Blood. I have been realizing +that all this Holy Week. I have felt as I have never felt +before the consciousness of sinning against Him. There has +not been an antiphon, not a versicle nor a response, that has +not stabbed me with a consciousness of my sin against His +Divine Love.</p> + +<p>"What are these wounds in Thy Hands: Those with +which I was wounded in the house of My friends."</p> + +<p>But if on Easter eve we could have confessed our sins +against His Love, and if this morning we could have partaken +of Him, He would have been with us, and our hearts +would have been fit for the presence of God. We should +have been freed from this spirit of strife, we should have +come together in Jesus Christ. We should have seen how +to live "with the unleavened Bread of sincerity and truth." +God would have revealed His Will, and we, submitting our +Order to His Will, should have ceased to think for ourselves, +to judge our brethren, to criticize our seniors, to +suspect that brother of personal ambition, this brother of +toadyism. The Community is being devoured by the Dragon +and, unless St. George comes to the rescue of his Order on +Thursday week, it will perish. Perhaps I have not much +faith in St. George. He has always seemed to me an unreal, +fairy-tale sort of a saint. I have more faith in St. Benedict +and his Holy Rule. But I have no vocation for the contemplative +life. I don't feel that my prayers are good enough +to save my own soul, let alone the souls of others. I <i>must</i> +give Jesus Christ to my fellow-men in the Blessed Sacrament. +I long to be a priest for that service. I don't feel +that I want by my own efforts to make people better, or to +relieve poverty, or to thunder against sin, or to preach them +up to and through Heaven's gates. I want to give them the +Blessed Sacrament, because I know that nothing else will be +the slightest use to them. I know it more positively to-night +than I have ever known it, because as I sit here writing to +you I am starved. God has given me the grace to understand +why I am starved. It is my duty to bring Our Lord to +souls who do not know why they are starved. And if after +nearly two years of Malford this passion to bring the Sacraments +to human beings consumes me like a fire, then I have +not wasted my time, and I can look you in the face and ask +for your blessing upon my determination to be a priest.</p> + +<p>Your ever affectionate</p> + +<p>Mark.</p></div> + +<p>When Mark had written this letter, and thus put into +words what had hitherto been a more or less nebulous intention, +and when in addition to that he had affixed a date to +the carrying out of his intention, he felt comparatively at ease. +He wasted no time in letting the Father Superior know that +he was going to leave; in fact he told him after he had confessed +to him before making his Communion on Easter +Thursday.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to lose you, my dear boy," said Father Burrowes. +"Very sorry. We are just going to open a priory +in London, though that is a secret for the moment, please. +I shall make the announcement at the Easter Chapter. Yes, +some kind friends have given us a house in Soho. Splendidly +central, which is important for our work. I had planned +that you would be one of the brethren chosen to go there."</p> + +<p>"It's very kind of you, Reverend Father," said Mark. +"But I'm sure that you understand my anxiety not to lose +any time, now that I feel perfectly convinced that I want +to be a priest."</p> + +<p>"I had my doubts about you when you first came to us. +Let me see, it was nearly two years ago, wasn't it? How +time flies! Yes, I had my doubts about you. But I was +wrong. You seem to possess a real fixity of purpose. I remember +that you told me then that you were not sure you +wanted to be a monk. Rare candour! I could have professed +a hundred monks, had I been willing to profess them +within ten minutes of their first coming to see me."</p> + +<p>The Father Superior gave Mark his blessing and dismissed +him. Nothing had been said about the dispute between the +Prior and the Chaplain, and Mark began to wonder if Father +Burrowes thought the results of it would tell more surely +in favour of his own influence if he did not allude to it nor +make any attempt to adjudicate upon the point at issue. +Now that he was leaving Malford in little more than a week, +Mark felt that he was completely relieved of the necessity +of assisting at any conventual legislation, and he would gladly +have absented himself from the Easter Chapter, which was +held on the Saturday within the Octave, had not Father +Burrowes told him that so long as he wore the habit of a +novice of the Order he was expected to share in every side +of the Community's life.</p> + +<p>"Brethren," said the Father Superior, "I have brought you +back news that will gladden your hearts, news that will show I +you how by the Grace of God your confidence in my judgment +was not misplaced. Some kind friends have taken for +us the long lease of a splendid house in Soho Square, so that +we may have our priory in London, and resume the active +work that was abandoned temporarily last Christmas. Not +only have these kind friends taken for us this splendid house, +but other kind friends have come forward to guarantee the +working expenses up to £20 a week. God is indeed good to +us, brethren, and when I remember that next Thursday is +the Feast of our great Patron Saint, my heart is too full for +words. During the last three or four months there have been +unhappy differences of opinion in our beloved Order. Do let +me entreat you to forget all these in gratitude for God's +bountiful mercies. Do let us, with the arrival once more of +our patronal festival, resolve to forget our doubts and our +hesitations, our timidity and our rashness, our suspicions +and our jealousies. I blame myself for much that has happened, +because I have been far away from you, dear brethren, +in moments of great spiritual distress. But this year I hope +by God's mercy to be with you more. I hope that you will +never again spend such an Easter as this. I have only one +more announcement to make, which is that I have appointed +Brother Dominic to be Prior of St. George's Priory, Soho +Square, and Brother Chad and Brother Dunstan to work with +him for God and our soldiers."</p> + +<p>In the morning, Brother Simon, whose duty it was nowadays +to knock with the hammer upon the doors of the cells +and rouse the brethren from sleep with the customary salutation, +went running from the dormitory to the Prior's cell, +his hair standing even more on end than it usually did at +such an hour.</p> + +<p>"Reverend Brother, Reverend Brother," he cried. "I've +knocked and knocked on Brother Anselm's door, and I've +said 'The Lord be with you' nine times and shouted 'The +Lord be with you' twice, but there's no answer, and at last I +opened the door, though I know it's against the Rule to open +the door of a brother's cell, but I thought he might be dead, +and he isn't dead, but he isn't there. He isn't there, Reverend +Brother, and he isn't anywhere. He's nowhere, Reverend +Brother, and shall I go and ring the fire-alarm?"</p> + +<p>Brother George sternly bade Brother Simon be quiet; but +when the Brethren sat in choir to sing Lauds and Prime, they +saw that Brother Anselm's stall was empty, and those who +had heard Brother Simon's clamour feared that something +terrible had happened.</p> + +<p>After Mass the Community was summoned to the Chapter +room to learn from the lips of the Father Superior that +Brother Anselm had broken his vows and left the Order. +Brother Dunstan, who wore round his neck the nib with +which Brother Anselm signed his profession, burst into +tears. Brother Dominic looked down his big nose to avoid +the glances of his brethren. If Easter Sunday had been +gloomy, Low Sunday was gloomier still, and as for the Feast +of St. George nobody had the courage to think what that +would be like with such a cloud hanging over the Community.</p> + +<p>Mark felt that he could not stay even until the patronal +festival. If Brother George or Brother Birinus had broken +his vows, he could have borne it more easily, for he had not +witnessed their profession; fond he might be of the Prior, +but he had worked for human souls under the orders of +Brother Anselm. He went to Father Burrowes and begged +to leave on Monday.</p> + +<p>"Brother Athanasius and Brother Chad are leaving tomorrow," +said the Father Superior, "Yes, you may go."</p> + +<p>Brother Simon drove them to the station. Strange figures +they seemed to each other in their lay clothes.</p> + +<p>"I've been meaning to go for a long time," said Brother +Athanasius, who was now Percy Wade. "And it's my belief +that Brother George and Brother Birinus won't stay long."</p> + +<p>"I hoped never to go," said Brother Chad, who was now +Cecil Masters.</p> + +<p>"Then why are you going?" asked the late Brother +Athanasius. "I never do anything I don't want to do."</p> + +<p>"I think I shall be more help to Brother Anselm than to +soldiers in London," said the late Brother Chad.</p> + +<p>Mark beamed at him.</p> + +<p>"That's just like you, Brother. I am so glad you're going +to do that."</p> + +<p>The train came in, and they all shook hands with Brother +Simon, who had been cheerful throughout the drive, and +even now found great difficulty in looking serious.</p> + +<p>"You seem very happy, Brother Simon," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am very happy, Brother Mark. I should say Mr. +Mark. The Reverend Father has told me that I'm to be +clothed as a novice on Wednesday. All last week when we +sung, '<i>The Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared unto +Simon</i>,' I knew something wonderful was going to happen. +That's what made me so anxious when Brother Anselm didn't +answer my knock."</p> + +<p>The train left the station, and the three ex-novices settled +themselves to face the world. They were all glad that +Brother Simon at least was happy amid so much unhappiness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX" />CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>THE NEW BISHOP OF SILCHESTER</h3> + + +<p>The Rector of Wych thought that Mark's wisest plan if +he wished to be ordained was to write and ask the +Bishop of Silchester for an interview.</p> + +<p>"The Bishop of Silchester?" Mark exclaimed. "But he's +the last bishop I should expect to help me."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," said the Rector, "you have lived in his +diocese for more than five years, and if you repair to another +bishop, he will certainly wonder why you didn't go first to the +Bishop of Silchester."</p> + +<p>"But I don't suppose that the Bishop of Silchester is likely +to help me," Mark objected. "He wasn't so much enamoured +of Rowley as all that, and I don't gather that he has +much affection or admiration for Burrowes."</p> + +<p>"That's not the point; the point is that you have devoted +yourself to the religious life, both informally and formally, +in his diocese. You have shown that you possess some +capacity for sticking to it, and I fancy that you will find the +Bishop less unsympathetic than you expect."</p> + +<p>However, Mark was not given an opportunity to put the +Bishop of Silchester's good-will to the test, for no sooner +had he made up his mind to write to him than the news came +that he was seriously ill, so seriously ill that he was not expected +to live, which in fact turned out a true prognostication, +for on the Feast of St. Philip and St. James the prelate died +in his Castle of High Thorpe. He was succeeded by the +Bishop of Warwick, much to Mark's pleasure and surprise, +for the new Bishop was an old friend of Father Rowley and +a High Churchman, one who might lend a kindly ear to +Mark's ambition. Father Rowley had been in the United +States for nearly two years, where he had been treated with +much sympathy and where he had collected enough money +to pay off the debt upon the new St. Agnes'. He had arrived +home about a week before Mark left Malford, and in answer +to Mark he wrote immediately to Dr. Oliphant, the new +Bishop of Silchester, to enlist his interest. Early in June +Mark received a cordial letter inviting him to visit the Bishop +at High Thorpe.</p> + +<p>The promotion of Dr. Aylmer Oliphant to the see of Silchester +was considered at the time to be an indication that +the political party then in power was going mad in preparation +for its destruction by the gods. The Press in commenting +upon the appointment did not attempt to cast a slur +upon the sanctity and spiritual fervour of the new Bishop, +but it felt bound to observe that the presence of such a man +on the episcopal bench was an indication that the party in +power was oblivious of the existence of an enraged electorate +already eager to hurl them out of office. At a time when +thinking men and women were beginning to turn to the +leaders of the National Church for a social policy, a government +worn out by eight years of office that included a costly +war was so little alive to the signs of the times as to select +for promotion a prelate conspicuously identified with the +obscurantist tactics of that small but noisy group in the +Church of England which arrogated to itself the presumptuous +claim to be the Catholic party. Dr. Oliphant's learning +was indisputable; his liturgical knowledge was profound; +his eloquence in the pulpit was not to be gainsaid; his life, +granted his sacerdotal eccentricities, was a noble example to +his fellow clergy. But had he shown those qualities of statesmanship, +that capacity for moderation, which were so marked +a feature of his predecessor's reign? Was he not identified +with what might almost be called an unchristian agitation to +prosecute the holy, wise, and scholarly Dean of Leicester for +appearing to countenance an opinion that the Virgin Birth +was not vital to the belief of a Christian? Had he not denounced +the Reverend Albert Blundell for heresy, and +thereby exhibited himself in active opposition to his late +diocesan, the sagacious Bishop of Kidderminster, who had +been compelled to express disapproval of his Suffragan's +bigotry by appointing the Reverend Albert Blundell to be one +of his examining chaplains?</p> + +<p>"We view with the gravest apprehension the appointment +of Dr. Aylmer Oliphant to the historic see of Silchester," +said one great journal. "Such reckless disregard, such contempt +we might almost say, for the feelings of the English +people demonstrates that the present government has ceased +to enjoy the confidence of the electorate. We have for Dr. +Oliphant personally nothing but the warmest admiration. +We do not venture for one moment to impugn his sincerity. +We do not hesitate to affirm most solemnly our disbelief that +he is actuated by any but the highest motives in lending his +name to persecutions that recall the spirit of the Star Chamber. +But in these days when the rapid and relentless march +of Scientific Knowledge is devastating the plain of Theological +Speculation we owe it to our readers to observe that +the appointment of Dr. Aylmer Oliphant to the Bishopric of +Silchester must be regarded as an act of intellectual cowardice. +Not merely is Dr. Oliphant a notorious extremist in +religious matters, one who for the sake of outworn forms +and ceremonies is inclined to keep alive the unhappy dissensions +that tear asunder our National Church, but he is also +what is called a Christian Socialist of the most advanced +type, one who by his misreading of the Gospel spreads the +unwholesome and perilous doctrine that all men are equal. +This is not the time nor the place to break a controversial +lance with Dr. Oliphant. We shall content ourselves with +registering a solemn protest against the unparagoned cynicism +of a Conservative government which thus gambles not +merely with its own security, but what is far more unpardonable +with the security of the Nation and the welfare of +the State."</p> + +<p>The subject of this ponderous censure received Mark in +the same room where two and a half years ago the late Bishop +had decided that the Third Altar in St. Agnes' Church was an +intolerable excrescence. Nowadays the room was less +imposing, not more imposing indeed than the room of a +scholarly priest who had been able to collect a few books and +buy such pieces of ancient furniture as consorted with his +severe taste. Dr. Oliphant himself, a tall spare man, seeming +the taller and more spare in his worn purple cassock, +with clean-shaven hawk's face and black bushy eyebrows +most conspicuous on account of his grey hair, stood before +the empty summer grate, his long lean neck out-thrust, his +arms crossed behind his back, like a gigantic and emaciated +shadow of Napoleon. Mark felt no embarrassment in genuflecting +to salute him; the action was spontaneous and was +not dictated by any ritualistic indulgence. Dr. Oliphant, as +he might have guessed from the anger with which his appointment +had been received, was in outward semblance all +that a prelate should be.</p> + +<p>"Why do you want to be a priest?" the Bishop asked him +abruptly.</p> + +<p>"To administer the Sacraments," Mark replied without +hesitation.</p> + +<p>The Bishop's head and neck wagged up and down in grave +approbation.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rowley, as no doubt he has told you, wrote to me +about you. And so you've been with the Order of St. George +lately? Is it any good?"</p> + +<p>Mark was at a loss what to reply to this. His impulse was +to say firmly and frankly that it was no good; but after not +far short of two years at Malford it would be ungrateful +and disloyal to criticize the Order, particularly to the Bishop +of the diocese.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it is much good yet," Mark said. He felt +that he simply could not praise the Order without qualification. +"But I expect that when they've learnt how to combine +the contemplative with the active side of their religious life +they will be splendid. At least, I hope they will."</p> + +<p>"What's wrong at present?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that anything's exactly wrong."</p> + +<p>Mark paused; but the Bishop was evidently waiting for +him to continue, and feeling that this was perhaps the best +way to present his own point of view about the life he had +chosen for himself he plunged into an account of life at +Malford.</p> + +<p>"Capital," said the Bishop when the narrative was done. +"You have given me a very clear picture of the present state +of the Order and incidentally a fairly clear picture of yourself. +Well, I'm going to recommend you to Canon Havelock, +the Principal of the Theological College here, and if he reports +well of you and you can pass the Cambridge Preliminary +Theological Examination, I will ordain you at Advent +next year, or at any rate, if not in Advent, at Whitsuntide."</p> + +<p>"But isn't Silchester Theological College only for graduates?" +Mark asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I'm going to suggest that Canon Havelock +stretches a point in your favour. I can, if you like, write to +the Glastonbury people, but in that case you would be out of +my diocese where you have spent so much of your time and +where I have no doubt you will easily find a beneficed priest +to give you a title. Moreover, in the case of a young man +like yourself who has been brought up from infancy upon +Catholic teaching, I think it is advisable to give you an opportunity +of mixing with the moderate man who wishes to take +Holy Orders. You can lose nothing by such an association, +and it may well happen that you will gain a great deal. Silchester +Theological College is eminently moderate. The +lecturers are men of real learning, and the Principal is a +man whom it would be impertinent for me to praise for his +devout and Christian life."</p> + +<p>"I hardly know how to thank you, my lord," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"Do you not, my son?" said the Bishop with a smile. Then +his head and neck wagged up and down. "Thank me by the +life you lead as a priest."</p> + +<p>"I will try, my lord," Mark promised.</p> + +<p>"Of that I am sure. By the way, didn't you come across a +priest at St. Agnes' Mission House called Mousley?"</p> + +<p>"Oh rather, I remember him well."</p> + +<p>"You'll be glad to hear that he has never relapsed since I +sent him to Rowley. In fact only last week I had the satisfaction +of recommending him to a friend of mine who had a +living in his gift."</p> + +<p>Mark spent the three months before he went to Silchester +at the Rectory where he worked hard at Latin and Greek and +the history of the Church. At the end of August he entered +Silchester Theological College.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI" />CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>SILCHESTER THEOLOGICAL COLLEGE</h3> + + +<p>The theological students of Silchester were housed in a +red-brick alley of detached Georgian houses, both ends +of which were closed to traffic by double gates of beautifully +wrought iron. This alley known as Vicar's Walk had formerly +been inhabited by the lay vicars of the Cathedral, +whose music was now performed by minor canons.</p> + +<p>There were four little houses on either side of the broad +pavement, the crevices in which were gay with small rock +plants, so infrequent were the footsteps that passed over +them. Each house consisted of four rooms and each room +held one student. Vicar's Walk led directly into the Close, +a large green space surrounded by the houses of dignitaries, +from a quiet road lined with elms, which skirted the wall of +the Deanery garden and after several twists and turns +among the shadows of great Gothic walls found its way +downhill into the narrow streets of the small city. One of +the houses in the Close had been handed over to the Theological +College, the Principal of which usually occupied a +Canon's stall in the Cathedral. Here were the lecture-rooms, +and here lived Canon Havelock the Principal, Mr. Drakeford +the Vice-Principal, Mr. Brewis the Chaplain, and Mr. Moore +and Mr. Waters the Lecturers.</p> + +<p>There did not seem to be many arduous rules. Probably +the most ascetic was one that forbade gentlemen to smoke +in the streets of Silchester. There was no early Mass except +on Saints' days at eight; but gentlemen were expected, unless +prevented by reasonable cause, to attend Matins in the Cathedral +before breakfast and Evensong in the College Oratory +at seven. A mutilated Compline was delivered at ten, after +which gentlemen were requested to retire immediately to their +rooms. Academic Dress was to be worn at lectures, and +Mark wondered what costume would be designed for him. +The lectures took place every morning between nine and +one, and every afternoon between five and seven. The Principal +lectured on Dogmatic Theology and Old Testament history; +the Vice-Principal on the Old and New Testament set +books; the Chaplain on Christian worship and Church history; +Mr. Moore on Pastoralia and Old Testament Theology; +and Mr. Waters on Latin, Greek, and Hebrew.</p> + +<p>As against the prevailing Gothic of the mighty Cathedral +Vicar's Walk stood out with a simple and fragrant charm of +its own, so against the prevailing Gothic of Mark's religious +experience life at the Theological College remained in his +memory as an unvexed interlude during which flesh and spirit +never sought to trouble each other. Perhaps if Mark had not +been educated at Haverton House, had not experienced conversion, +had not spent those years at Chatsea and Malford, +but like his fellow students had gone decorously from public +school to University and still more decorously from University +to Theological College, he might with his temperament +have wondered if this red-brick alley closed to traffic at +either end by beautifully wrought iron gates was the best +place to prepare a man for the professional service of Jesus +Christ.</p> + +<p>Sin appeared very remote in that sunny lecture-room where +to the sound of cawing rooks the Principal held forth upon +the strife between Pelagius and Augustine, when prevenient +Grace, operating Grace, co-operating Grace and the <i>donum +perseverantiae</i> all seemed to depend for their importance so +much more upon a good memory than upon the inscrutable +favours of Almighty God. Even the Confessions of St. +Augustine, which might have shed their own fierce light of +Africa upon the dark problem of sin, were scarcely touched +upon. Here in this tranquil room St. Augustine lived in +quotations from his controversial works, or in discussions +whether he had not wrongly translated ἐφ᾽ ῷ πἁντεϛ ἢμαρτου +in the Epistle to the Romans by <i>in quo omnes peccaverunt</i> +instead of like the Pelagians by <i>propter quod omnes peccaverunt</i>. +The dim echoes of the strife between Semipelagian +Marseilles and Augustinian Carthage resounded faintly in +Mark's brain; but they only resounded at all, because he +knew that without being able to display some ability to convey +the impression that he understood the Thirty-Nine +Articles he should never be ordained. Mark wondered what +Canon Havelock would have done or said if a woman taken +in adultery had been brought into the lecture-room by the +beadle. Yet such a supposition was really beside the point, +he thought penitently. After all, human beings would soon +be degraded to wax-works if they could be lectured upon +individually in this tranquil and sunny room to the sound of +rooks cawing in the elms beyond the Deanery garden.</p> + +<p>Mark made no intimate friendships among his fellows. +Perhaps the moderation of their views chilled him into an +exceptional reserve, or perhaps they were an unusually dull +company that year. Of the thirty-one students, eighteen were +from Oxford, twelve from Cambridge, and the thirty-first +from Durham. Even he was looked at with a good deal of +suspicion. As for Mark, nothing less than God's prevenient +grace could explain his presence at Silchester. Naturally, inasmuch +as they were going to be clergymen, the greatest +charity, the sweetest toleration was shown to Mark's unfortunate +lack of advantages; but he was never unaware that +intercourse with him involved his companions in an effort, a +distinct, a would-be Christlike effort to make the best of +him. It was the same kind of effort they would soon be +making when as Deacons they sought for the sick, poor, and +impotent people of the Parish. Mark might have expected +to find among them one or two of whom it might be prophesied +that they would go far. But he was unlucky. All the +brilliant young candidates for Ordination must have betaken +themselves to Cuddesdon or Wells or Lichfield that year.</p> + +<p>Of the eighteen graduates from Oxford, half took their +religion as a hot bath, the other half as a cold one. Nine +resembled the pale young curates of domestic legend, nine +the muscular Christian that is for some reason attributed to +the example of Charles Kingsley. Of the twelve graduates +from Cambridge, six treated religion as a cricket match +played before the man in the street with God as umpire, six +regarded it as a respectable livelihood for young men with +normal brains, social connexions, and weak digestions. The +young man from Durham looked upon religion as a more +than respectable livelihood for one who had plenty of brains, +an excellent digestion, and no social connexions whatever.</p> + +<p>Mark wondered if the Bishop of Silchester's design in placing +him amid such surroundings was to cure him for ever +of moderation. As was his custom when he was puzzled, he +wrote to the Rector.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Theological College,</p> + +<p>Silchester.</p> + +<p>All Souls, '03.</p> + +<p>My dear Rector,</p> + +<p>My first impressions have not undergone much change. +The young men are as good as gold, but oh dear, the gold +is the gold of Mediocritas. The only thing that kindles +a mild phosphorescence, a dim luminousness as of a bedside +match-tray in the dark, in their eyes is when they hear of +somebody's what they call conspicuous moderation. I suppose +every deacon carries a bishop's apron in his sponge-bag +or an archbishop's crosier among his golf-clubs. But in this +lot I simply cannot perceive even an embryonic archdeacon. +I rather expected when I came here that I should be up +against men of brains and culture. I was looking forward +to being trampled on by ruthless logicians. I hoped that +latitudinarian opinions were going to make my flesh creep +and my hair stand on end. But nothing of the kind. I've +always got rather angry when I've read caricatures of +curates in books with jokes about goloshes and bath-buns. +Yet honestly, half my fellows might easily serve as models +to any literary cheapjack of the moment. I'm willing to +admit that probably most of them will develop under the +pressure of life, but a few are bound to remain what they +are. I know we get some eccentrics and hotheads and a +few sensual knaves among the Catholic clergy, but we do +not get these anæmic creatures. I feel that before I came +here I knew nothing about the Church of England. I've +been thrown all my life with people who had rich ideas and +violent beliefs and passionate sympathies and deplorable +hatreds, so that when I come into contact with what I am +bound to accept as the typical English parson in the making +I am really appalled.</p> + +<p>I've been wondering why the Bishop of Silchester told +me to come here. Did he really think that the spectacle of +moderation in the moulding was good for me? Did he fancy +that I was a young zealot who required putting in his place? +Or did he more subtly realize from the account I gave him +of Malford that I was in danger of becoming moderate, +even luke-warm, even tepid, perhaps even stone-cold? Did +he grasp that I must owe something to party as well as mankind, +if I was to give up anything worth giving to mankind? +But perhaps in my egoism I am attributing much more to +his lordship's paternal interest, a keener glance to his episcopal +eye, than I have any right to attribute. Perhaps, after +all, he merely saw in me a young man who had missed the +advantages of Oxford, etc., and wished out of regard for +my future to provide me with the best substitute.</p> + +<p>Anyway, please don't think that I live in a constant state +of criticism with a correspondingly dangerous increase of +self-esteem. I really am working hard. I sometimes wonder +if the preparation of a "good" theological college is the best +preparation for the priesthood. But so long as bishops +demand the knowledge they do, it is obvious that this form +of preparation will continue. There again though, I daresay +if I imagined myself an inspired pianist I should grumble at +the amount of scales I was set to practice. I'm not, once I've +written down or talked out some of my folly, so very foolish +at bottom.</p> + +<p>Beyond a slight inclination to flirt with the opinions of +most of the great heresiarchs in turn, but only with each one +until the next comes along, I'm not having any intellectual +adventures. One of the excitements I had imagined beforehand +was wrestling with Doubt. But I have no wrestles. +Shall I always be spared?</p> + +<p>Your ever affectionate,</p> + +<p>Mark.</p></div> + +<p>Gradually, as the months went by, either because the +students became more mellow in such surroundings or because +he himself was achieving a wider tolerance, Mark lost +much of his capacity for criticism and learned to recognize +in his fellows a simple goodness and sincerity of purpose +that almost frightened him when he thought of that great +world outside, in the confusion and complexity of which +they had pledged themselves to lead souls up to God. He felt +how much they missed by not relying rather upon the Sacraments +than upon personal holiness and the upright conduct +of the individual. They were obsessed with the need of +setting a good example and of being able from the pulpit +to direct the wandering lamb to the Good Shepherd. Mark +scarcely ever argued about his point of view, because he was +sure that perception of what the Sacraments could do for +human nature must be given by the grace of God, and that +the most exhaustive process of inductive logic would not +avail in the least to convince somebody on whom the fact had +not dawned in a swift and comprehensive inspiration of his +inner life. Sometimes indeed Mark would defend himself +from attack, as when it was suggested that his reliance upon +the Sacraments was only another aspect of Justification by +Faith Alone, in which the effect of a momentary conversion +was prolonged by mechanical aids to worship.</p> + +<p>"But I should prefer my idolatry of the outward form to +your idolatry of the outward form," he would maintain.</p> + +<p>"What possible idolatry can come from the effect upon a +congregation of a good sermon?" they protested.</p> + +<p>"I don't claim that a preacher might not bring the whole +of his congregation to the feet of God," Mark allowed. "But +I must have less faith in human nature than you have, for +I cannot believe that any preacher could exercise a permanent +effect without the Sacraments. You all know the person who +says that the sound of an organ gives him holy thoughts, +makes him feel good, as the cant phrase goes? I've no doubt +that people who sit under famous preachers get the same kind +of sensation Sunday after Sunday. But sooner or later they +will be worshipping the outward form—that is to say the +words that issue from the preacher's mouth and produce +those internal moral rumblings in the pit of the soul which +other listeners get from the diapason. Have your organs, +have your sermons, have your matins and evensong; but +don't put them on the same level as the Blessed Sacrament. +The value of that is absolute, and I refuse to consider It +from the point of view of pragmatic philosophy."</p> + +<p>All would protest that Mark was putting a wrong interpretation +upon their argument; what they desired to avoid +was the substitution of the Blessed Sacrament for the Person +of the Divine Saviour.</p> + +<p>"But I believe," Mark argued, "I believe profoundly with +the whole of my intellectual, moral, and emotional self that +the Blessed Sacrament <i>is</i> our Divine Saviour. I maintain +that only through the Blessed Sacrament can we hope to form +within our own minds the slightest idea of the Person of the +Divine Saviour. In the pulpit I would undertake to present +fifty human characters as moving as our Lord; but when I +am at the Altar I shall actually give Him to those who will +take Him. I shall know that I am doing as much for the +lowest savage as for the finest product of civilization. All +are equal on the altar steps. Elsewhere man remains divided +into classes. You may rent the best pew from which to see +and hear the preacher; but you cannot rent a stone on which +to kneel at your Communion."</p> + +<p>Mark rarely indulged in these outbursts. On him too +Silchester exerted a mellowing influence, and he gained from +his sojourn there much of what he might have carried away +from Oxford; he recaptured the charm of that June day +when in the shade of the oak-tree he had watched a College +cricket match, and conversed with Hathorne the Siltonian +who wished to be a priest, but who was killed in the Alps +soon after Mark met him.</p> + +<p>The bells chimed from early morning until sombre eve; +ancient clocks sounded the hour with strikes rusty from +long service of time; rooks and white fantail-pigeons spoke +with the slow voice of creatures that are lazily content with +the slumbrous present and undismayed by the sleepy morrow. +In Summer the black-robed dignitaries and white choristers, +themselves not more than larger rooks and fantails, passed +slowly across the green Close to their dutiful worship. In +Winter they battled with the wind like the birds in the sky. +In Autumn there was a sound of leaves along the alleys and +in the Gothic entries. In Spring there were daisies in the +Close, and daffodils nodding among the tombs, and on the +grey wall of the Archdeacon's garden a flaming peacock's +tail of Japanese quince.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Mark was overwhelmed by the tyranny of the +past in Silchester; sometimes it seemed that nothing was +worth while except at the end of living to have one's effigy +in stone upon the walls of the Cathedral, and to rest there +for ever with viewless eyes and cold prayerful hands, oneself +in harmony at last with all that had gone before.</p> + +<p>"Yet this peace is the peace of God," he told himself. +"And I who am privileged for a little time to share in it must +carry away with me enough to make a treasure of peace in +my own heart, so that I can give from that treasure to those +who have never known peace."</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep +your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, +and of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord; and the blessing of +God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be +amongst you and remain with you always.</i></p></div> + +<p>When Mark heard these words sound from the altar far +away in the golden glooms of the Cathedral, it seemed to him +that the building bowed like a mighty couchant beast and +fell asleep in the security of God's presence.</p> + +<p>After Mark had been a year at the Theological College he +received a letter from the Bishop:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>High Thorpe Castle.</p> + +<p>Sept. 21, '04.</p> + +<p>Dear Lidderdale,</p> + +<p>I have heard from Canon Havelock that he considers you +are ready to be ordained at Advent, having satisfactorily +passed the Cambridge Preliminary Theological Examination. +If therefore you succeed in passing my examination +early in November, I am willing to ordain you on December +18. It will be necessary of course for you to obtain a title, +and I have just heard from Mr. Shuter, the Vicar of St. +Luke's, Galton, that he is anxious to make arrangements for +a curate. You had better make an appointment, and if I +hear favourably from him I will licence you for his church. +It has always been the rule in this diocese that non-graduate +candidates for Holy Orders should spend at least two years +over their theological studies, but I am not disposed to +enforce this rule in your case.</p> + +<p>Yours very truly,</p> + +<p>Aylmer Silton.</p></div> + +<p>This expression of fatherly interest made Mark anxious +to show his appreciation of it, and whatever he had thought +of St. Luke's, Galton, or of its incumbent he would have +done his best to secure the title merely to please the Bishop. +Moreover, his money was coming to an end, and another +year at the Theological College would have compelled him to +borrow from Mr. Ogilvie, a step which he was most anxious +to avoid. He found that Galton, which he remembered from +the days when he had sent Cyril Pomeroy there to be met +by Dorward, was a small county town of some eight or nine +thousand inhabitants and that St. Luke's was a new church +which had originally been a chapel of ease to the parish +church, but which had acquired with the growth of a poor +population on the outskirts of the town an independent +parochial status of its own. The Reverend Arnold Shuter, +who was the first vicar, was at first glance just a nervous +bearded man, though Mark soon discovered that he possessed +a great deal of spiritual force. He was a widower and lived +in the care of a housekeeper who regarded religion as the +curse of good cooking. Latterly he had suffered from +acute neurasthenia, and three or four of his wealthier +parishioners—they were only relatively wealthy—had clubbed +together to guarantee the stipend of a curate. Mark was +to live at the Vicarage, a detached villa, with pointed windows +and a front door like a lychgate, which gave the impression +of having been built with what material was left +over from building the church.</p> + +<p>"You may think that there is not much to do in Galton," +said Mr. Shuter when he and Mark were sitting in his study +after a round of the parish.</p> + +<p>"I hope I didn't suggest that," Mark said quickly.</p> + +<p>The Vicar tugged nervously at his beard and blinked at +his prospective curate from pale blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"You seem so full of life and energy," he went on, half +to himself, as though he were wondering if the company of +this tall, bright-eyed, hatchet-faced young man might not +prove too bracing for his worn-out nerves.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I'm glad I do strike you that way," Mark laughed. +"After dreaming at Silchester I'd begun to wonder if I +hadn't grown rather too much into a type of that sedate and +sleepy city."</p> + +<p>"But there is plenty of work," Mr. Shuter insisted. "We +have the hop-pickers at the end of the summer, and I've tried +to run a mission for them. Out in the hop-gardens, you +know. And then there's Oaktown."</p> + +<p>"Oaktown?" Mark echoed.</p> + +<p>"Yes. A queer collection of people who have settled on a +derelict farm that was bought up and sold in small plots by +a land-speculator. They'll give plenty of scope for your +activity. By the way, I hope you're not too extreme. We +have to go very slowly here. I manage an early Eucharist +every Sunday and Thursday, and of course on Saints' days; +but the attendance is not good. We have vestments during +the week, but not at the mid-day Celebration."</p> + +<p>Mark had not intended to attach himself to what he considered +a too indefinite Catholicism; but inasmuch as the +Bishop had found him this job he made up his mind to give +to it at any rate his deacon's year and his first year as a +priest.</p> + +<p>"I've been brought up in the vanguard of the Movement," +he admitted. "But you can rely on me, sir, to be loyal to +your point of view, even if I disagreed with it. I can't +pretend to believe much in moderation; but I should always +be your curate before anything else, and I hope very much +indeed that you will offer me the title."</p> + +<p>"You'll find me dull company," Mr. Shuter sighed. "My +health has gone all to pieces this last year."</p> + +<p>"I shall have a good deal of reading to do for my priest's +examination," Mark reminded him. "I shall try not to +bother you."</p> + +<p>The result of Mark's visit to Galton was that amongst the +various testimonials and papers he forwarded two months +later to the Bishop's Registrar was the following:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>To the Right Reverend Aylmer, Lord Bishop of +Silchester.</p> + +<p>I, Arnold Shuter, Vicar of St. Luke's, Galton, in the +County of Southampton, and your Lordship's Diocese of +Silchester, do hereby nominate Mark Lidderdale, to perform +the office of Assistant Curate in my Church of St. +Luke aforesaid; and do promise to allow him the yearly +stipend of £120 to be paid by equal quarterly instalments; +And I do hereby state to your Lordship that the said Mark +Lidderdale intends to reside in the said Parish in my +Vicarage; and that the said Mark Lidderdale does not intend +to serve any other Parish as Incumbent or Curate.</p> + +<p>Witness my hand this fourteenth day of November; in +the year of our Lord, 1904.</p> + +<p>Arnold Shuter,</p> + +<p>St. Luke's Vicarage,</p> + +<p>Galton,</p> + +<p>Hants.</p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I, Arnold Shuter, Incumbent of St. Luke's, Galton, in the +County of Southampton, bonâ fide undertake to pay Mark +Lidderdale, of the Rectory, Wych-on-the-Wold, in the +County of Oxford, the annual sum of one hundred and +twenty pounds as a stipend for his services as Curate, and +I, Mark Lidderdale, bonâ fide intend to receive the whole +of the said stipend. And each of us, Arnold Shuter and +Mark Lidderdale, declare that no abatement is to be made +out of the said stipend in respect of rent or consideration +for the use of the Glebe House; and that I, Arnold Shuter, +undertake to pay the same, and I, Mark Lidderdale, intend +to receive the same, without any deduction or abatement +whatsoever.</p> + +<p>Arnold Shuter,</p> + +<p>Mark Lidderdale.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII" />CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>EMBER DAYS</h3> + + +<p>Mark, having been notified that he had been successful +in passing the Bishop's examination for Deacons, was +summoned to High Thorpe on Thursday. He travelled down +with the other candidates from Silchester on an iron-grey +afternoon that threatened snow from the louring North, and +in the atmosphere of High Thorpe under the rule of Dr. +Oliphant he found more of the spirit of preparation than he +would have been likely to find in any other diocese at this +date. So many of the preliminaries to Ordination had consisted +of filling up forms, signing documents, and answering +the questions of the Examining Chaplain that Mark, when +he was now verily on the threshold of his new life, reproached +himself with having allowed incidental details and +petty arrangements to make him for a while oblivious of the +overwhelming fact of his having been accepted for the service +of God. Luckily at High Thorpe he was granted a day to +confront his soul before being harassed again on Ember +Saturday with further legal formalities and signing of documents. +He was able to spend the whole of Ember Friday in +prayer and meditation, in beseeching God to grant him grace +to serve Him worthily, strength to fulfil his vows, and that +great <i>donum perseverantiæ</i> to endure faithful unto death.</p> + +<p>"Not everyone that saith unto me, Lord, Lord," Mark +remembered in the damasked twilight of the Bishop's Chapel, +where he was kneeling. "Let me keep those words in my +heart. Not everyone," he repeated aloud. Then perversely +as always come volatile and impertinent thoughts when the +mind is concentrated on lofty aspirations Mark began to +wonder if he had quoted the text correctly. He began to be +almost sure that he had not, and on that to torment his brain +in trying to recall what was the exact wording of the text +he desired to impress upon his heart. "Not everyone that +saith unto me, Lord, Lord," he repeated once more aloud.</p> + +<p>At that moment the tall figure of the Bishop passed by.</p> + +<p>"Do you want me, my son?" he asked kindly.</p> + +<p>"I should like to make my confession, reverend father in +God," said Mark.</p> + +<p>The Bishop beckoned him into the little sacristy, and putting +on rochet and purple stole he sat down to hear his +penitent.</p> + +<p>Mark had few sins of which to accuse himself since he +last went to his duties a month ago. However, he did have +upon his conscience what he felt was a breach of the Third +Commandment in that he had allowed himself to obscure +the mighty fact of his approaching ordination by attaching +too much importance to and fussing too much about the preliminary +formalities.</p> + +<p>The Bishop did not seem to think that Mark's soul was in +grave peril on that account, and he took the opportunity to +warn Mark against an over-scrupulousness that might lead +him in his confidence to allow sin to enter into his soul by +some unguarded portal which he supposed firmly and for +ever secure.</p> + +<p>"That is always the danger of a temperament like yours?" +he mused. "By all means keep your eyes on the high ground +ahead of you; but do not forget that the more intently you +look up, the more liable you are to slip on some unnoticed +slippery stone in your path. If you abandoned yourself to +the formalities that are a necessary preliminary to Ordination, +you did wisely. Our Blessed Lord usually gave practical +advice, and some of His miracles like the turning of +water into wine at Cana were reproofs to carelessness in +matters of detail. It was only when people worshipped utility +unduly that He went to the other extreme as in His rebuke to +Judas over the cruse of ointment."</p> + +<p>The Bishop raised his head and gave Mark absolution. +When they came out of the sacristy he invited him to come +up to his library and have a talk.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad that you are going to Galton," he said, wagging +his long neck over a crumpet. "I think you'll find your +experience in such a parish extraordinarily useful at the +beginning of your career. So many young men have an idea +that the only way to serve God is to go immediately to a +slum. You'll be much more discouraged at Galton than you +can imagine. You'll learn there more of the difficulties of a +clergyman's life in a year than you could learn in London in +a lifetime. Rowley, as no doubt you've heard, has just +accepted a slum parish in Shoreditch. Well, he wrote to me +the other day and suggested that you should go to him. But +I dissented. You'll have an opportunity at Galton to rely +upon yourself. You'll begin in the ruck. You'll be one of +many who struggle year in year out with an ordinary parish. +There won't be any paragraphs about St. Luke's in the +Church papers. There won't be any enthusiastic pilgrims. +There'll be nothing but the thought of our Blessed Lord to +keep you struggling on, only that, only our Blessed Lord +Jesus Christ."</p> + +<p>The Bishop's head wagged slowly to and fro in the silence +that succeeded his words, and Mark pondering them in that +silence felt no longer that he was saying "Lord, Lord," but +that he had been called to follow and that he was ready without +hesitation to follow Him whithersoever He should lead.</p> + +<p>The quiet Ember Friday came to an end, and on the Saturday +there were more formalities, of which Mark dreaded +most the taking of the oath before the Registrar. He had +managed with the help of subtle High Church divines to persuade +himself that he could swear he assented to the Thirty-nine +Articles without perjury. Nevertheless he wished that +he was not bound to take that oath, and he was glad that +the sense in which the Thirty-nine Articles were to be accepted +was left to the discretion of him who took the oath. +Of one thing Mark was positive. He was assuredly not +assenting to those Thirty-nine Articles that their compilers +intended when they framed them. However, when it came +to it, Mark affirmed:</p> + +<p>"I, Mark Lidderdale, about to be admitted to the Holy +Order of Deacons, do solemnly make the following declaration:—I +assent to the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion, and +to the Book of Common Prayer, and the ordering of Bishops, +Priests, and Deacons. I believe the doctrine of the Church +of England, as therein set forth, to be agreeable to the Word +of God; and in Public Prayer and Administration of the +Sacraments I will use the Form in the said Book prescribed, +and none other, except so far as shall be ordered by lawful +authority.</p> + +<p>"I, Mark Lidderdale, about to be admitted to the Holy +Order of Deacons, do swear that I will be faithful and bear +true Allegiance to His Majesty King Edward, his heirs and +successors according to law.</p> + +<p>"So help me God."</p> + +<p>"But the strange thing is," Mark said to one of his fellow +candidates, "nobody asks us to take the oath of allegiance to +God."</p> + +<p>"We do that when we're baptized," said the other, a +serious young man who feared that Mark was being flippant.</p> + +<p>"Personally," Mark concluded, "I think the solemn profession +of a monk speaks more directly to the soul."</p> + +<p>And this was the feeling that Mark had throughout the +Ordination of the Deacons notwithstanding that the Bishop +of Silchester in cope and mitre was an awe-inspiring figure +in his own Chapel. But when Mark heard him say:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Receive the Holy Ghost for the office and work of a +Priest in the Church of God</i>,</p></div> + +<p>he was caught up to the Seventh Heaven and prayed that, +when a year hence he should be kneeling thus to hear those +words uttered to him and to feel upon his head those hands +imposed, he should receive the Holy Ghost more worthily +than lately he had received authority to execute the office of +a Deacon in the Church of God.</p> + +<p>Suddenly at the back of the chapel Mark caught sight of +Miriam, who must have travelled down from Oxfordshire +last night to be present at his Ordination. His mind went +back to that Whit-Sunday in Meade Cantorum nearly ten +years ago. Miriam's plume of grey hair was no longer +visible, for all her hair was grey nowadays; but her face +had scarcely altered, and she sat there at this moment with +that same expression of austere sweetness which had been +shed like a benison upon Mark's dreary boyhood. How dear +of Miriam to grace his Ordination, and if only Esther too +could have been with him! He knelt down to thank God +humbly for His mercies, and of those mercies not least for +the Ogilvies' influence upon his life.</p> + +<p>Mark could not find Miriam when they came out from the +chapel. She must have hurried away to catch some slow +Sunday train that would get her back to Wych-on-the-Wold +to-night. She could not have known that he had seen her, +and when he arrived at the Rectory to-morrow as glossy as +a beetle in his new clerical attire, Miriam would listen to his +account of the Ordination, and only when he had finished +would she murmur how she had been present all the time.</p> + +<p>And now there was still the oath of canonical obedience +to take before lunch; but luckily that was short. Mark was +hungry, since unlike most of the candidates he had not eaten +an enormous breakfast that morning.</p> + +<p>Snow was falling outside when the young priests and +deacons in their new frock coats sat down to lunch; and +when they put on their sleek silk hats and hurried away to +catch the afternoon train back to Silchester, it was still +falling.</p> + +<p>"Even nature is putting on a surplice in our honour," Mark +laughed to one of his companions, who not feeling quite sure +whether Mark was being poetical or profane, decided that he +was being flippant, and looked suitably grieved.</p> + +<p>It was dusk of that short winter day when Mark reached +Silchester, and wandered back in a dream toward Vicar's +Walk. Usually on Sunday evenings the streets of the city +pattered with numerous footsteps; but to-night the snow +deadened every sound, and the peace of God had gone out +from the Cathedral to shed itself upon the city.</p> + +<p>"It will be Christmas Day in a week," Mark thought, +listening to the Sabbath bells muffled by the soft snow-laden +air. For the first time it occurred to him that he should probably +have to preach next Sunday evening.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.</i></p></div> + +<p>That should be his text, Mark decided; and, passing from +the snowy streets, he sat thinking in the golden glooms of +the Cathedral about his sermon.</p> + + +<p>EXPLICIT PRÆLUDIUM</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14739 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |