No More Learning

More idealistic minds find something revolting in Trollope's method
of work. He exulted in his own capacity for plodding, and could
not understand George Eliot's shudders when he boasted of his
twenty pages a week, and two hundred and fifty words a page,-
which, sick or well, he forced himself to accomplish. "To me it
would not be more absurd if the shoemaker were to wait for inspi-
ration, or the tallow-chandler for the divine moment of melting," he
maintained. This hard-and-fast system, although conducive to quan-
tity, was somewhat deleterious to quality. Anthony Trollope was
very prolific. He wrote many magazine sketches, short stories, and
books of travel; and did a great deal of editorial work in connec-
tion with the Cornhill Magazine and the Fortnightly Magazine, in
-


## p. 15034 (#618) ##########################################

15034
ANTHONY TROLLOPE
addition to about thirty novels. But of all his works perhaps only
'The Parliamentary Series,' 'The Chronicles of Barset,' and 'Orley
Farm,'-by many considered his best story,- have permanent quali-
ties of merit. Phineas Finn,' 'Phineas Redux,' 'Can You Forgive
Her? The Duke's Children,' 'The Prime Minister,' afford an inti-
mate acquaintance with London life and the complications of Eng-
lish politics; and are full of brilliant character sketches. But for
simple human interest they are inferior to the 'Chronicles. ' Wan-
dering about Salisbury one day, Anthony Trollope conceived the idea
of 'The Warden,' - the first and shortest of the five included in this
series. Its reception showed him that he had learned at last how
to gratify the public. The imaginary county of Barset became very
real to novel readers. Gentle Bishop Proudie, impotent under the
rule of his shrewish wife; the impressive but shallow archdeacon,
his good sensible wife, and his wife's relations, with their exagger-
ated respect for ecclesiastical precedences, involving petty squabbles,
-form the background for pleasant romances. Trollope delights in
pretty, sensible, spirited girls. Grace Crawley, Lily Dale, Mary Thorne,
and their sisterhood, are fine warm-hearted young women. Perhaps
the most lovable character in all Trollope's works is mild Mr. Har-
ding, a pure-minded and simple Christian, loving his faith, and try-
ing his best to live it consistently.
Trollope never forces a moral. His tales were written for the
recreation of others, although it was a matter of pride with him that
the pleasure he furnished was always wholesome.
Trollope saw the world as a sphere of many satisfactions, much
pleasure, and little joy. Most people, it seemed to him, struggling
more or less cheerfully through difficulties, find life something of a
makeshift. This truth he shows, and emphasizes in a rich volumi-
nous style, like that of a ready talker with a copious vocabulary at
command.
It is pleasant to remember that after his hard youth, Anthony
Trollope passed years of comfort and congenial companionship. His
frank delight in the Garrick Club - where he met Dickens, Thack-
eray, Wilkie Collins, and other gifted men-compensated his solitary
boyhood. Another enduring pleasure was hunting. He kept fine
horses, and followed the hounds clumsily but enthusiastically almost
to the time of his death in 1882.
Jone
Grosvenor Cooke.
-
-


## p. 15035 (#619) ##########################################

ANTHONY TROLLOPE
15035
WAR
From Barchester Towers'
"G
OOD heavens! " exclaimed the archdeacon, as he placed his
foot on the gravel walk of the close, and raising his hat
with one hand, passed the other somewhat violently over
his now grizzled locks. Smoke issued forth from the uplifted
beaver as it were a cloud of wrath; and the safety-valve of his
anger opened, and emitted a visible steam, preventing positive
explosion and probable apoplexy. "Good heavens! "— and the
archdeacon looked up to the gray pinnacles of the cathedral
tower, making a mute appeal to that still living witness which
had looked down on the doings of so many bishops of Bar-
chester.
"I don't think I shall ever like that Mr. Slope," said Mr.
Harding.
"Like him! " roared the archdeacon, standing still for a mo-
ment to give more force to his voice; "like him! " All the
ravens of the close cawed their assent. The old bells of the
tower, in chiming the hour, echoed the words; and the swallows
flying out from their nests mutely expressed a similar opinion.
Like Mr. Slope! Why no, it was not very probable that any
Barchester-bred living thing should like Mr. Slope!
"Nor Mrs. Proudie either," said Mr. Harding.
The archdeacon hereupon forgot himself. I will not follow
his example, nor shock my readers by transcribing the term in
which he expressed his feeling as to the lady who had been
named. The ravens and the last lingering notes of the clock
bells were less scrupulous, and repeated in corresponding echoes
the very improper exclamation. The archdeacon again raised his
hat, and another salutary escape of steam was effected.
There was a pause, during which the precentor tried to real-
ize the fact that the wife of a bishop of Barchester had been
thus designated, in the close of the cathedral, by the lips of its
own archdeacon; but he could not do it.
"The bishop seems to be a quiet man enough," suggested Mr.
Harding, having acknowledged to himself his own failure.
"Idiot! " exclaimed the doctor, who for the nonce was not
capable of more than such spasmodic attempts at utterance.
«< Well, he did not seem very bright," said Mr. Harding;
"and yet he has always had the reputation of a clever man. I


## p. 15036 (#620) ##########################################

15036
ANTHONY TROLLOPE
suppose he's cautious and not inclined to express himself very
freely. "
The new bishop of Barchester was already so contemptible a
creature in Dr. Grantly's eyes that he could not condescend to
discuss his character. He was a puppet to be played by others;
a mere wax doll, done up in an apron and a shovel hat, to be
stuck on a throne or elsewhere, and pulled about by wires as
others chose. Dr. Grantly did not choose to let himself down low
enough to talk about Dr. Proudie; but he saw that he would
have to talk about the other members of his household, the co-
adjutor bishops, who had brought his Lordship down, as it were,
in a box, and were about to handle the wires as they willed. This
in itself was a terrible vexation to the archdeacon. Could he
have ignored the chaplain, and have fought the bishop, there
would have been, at any rate, nothing degrading in such a con-
test. Let the Queen make whom she would bishop of Barchester:
a man, or even an ape, when once a bishop, would be a respect-
able adversary, if he would but fight, himself. But what was
such a person as Dr. Grantly to do, when such another person as
Mr. Slope was put forward as his antagonist?
If he, our archdeacon, refused the combat, Mr. Slope would
walk triumphant over the field, and have the diocese of Barches
ter under his heel.
If, on the other hand, the archdeacon accepted as his enemy
the man whom the new puppet bishop put before him as such,
he would have to talk about Mr. Slope, and write about Mr.
Slope, and in all matters treat with Mr. Slope, as a being stand-
ing in some degree on ground similar to his own. He would
have to meet Mr. Slope; to- Bah! the idea was sickening. He
could not bring himself to have to do with Mr. Slope.
"He is the most thoroughly bestial creature that ever I set
my eyes upon," said the archdeacon.
"Who - the bishop? " asked the other innocently.
"Bishop! no;-I'm not talking about the bishop. How on
earth such a creature got ordained! They'll ordain anybody
now, I know: but he's been in the Church these ten years; and
they used to be a little careful ten years ago. "
"Oh! you mean Mr. Slope. "
"Did
>>>
you ever see any animal less like a gentleman ?
Dr. Grantly.
"I can't say I felt myself much disposed to like him. "
asked


## p. 15037 (#621) ##########################################

ANTHONY TROLLOPE
15037
"Like him! " again shouted the doctor, and the assenting
ravens again cawed an echo. "Of course you don't like him.
It's not a question of liking. But what are we to do with him? "
"Do with him? " asked Mr. Harding.
"Yes; - what are we to do with him? How are we to treat
him? There he is, and there he'll stay. He has put his foot in
that palace, and he will never take it out again till he's driven.
How are we to get rid of him? "
"I don't suppose he can do us much harm. "
"Not do harm! -Well: I think you'll find yourself of a dif-
ferent opinion before a month is gone.
What would you say
now if he got himself put into the hospital ? Would that be
harm? "
Mr. Harding mused awhile, and then said he didn't think the
new bishop would put Mr. Slope into the hospital.
"If he doesn't put him there, he'll put him somewhere else
where he'll be as bad. I tell you that that man, to all intents
and purposes, will be bishop of Barchester. " Then again Dr.
Grantly raised his hat, and rubbed his hand thoughtfully and
sadly over his head.
"Impudent scoundrel! " he continued after a while. "To dare
to cross-examine me about the Sunday schools in the diocese,-
and Sunday traveling too. I never in my life met his equal for
sheer impudence. Why, he must have thought we were two can-
didates for ordination! "
"I declare I thought Mrs. Proudie was the worst of the two,"
said Mr. Harding.
«< When a woman is impertinent, one must only put up with
it, and keep out of her way in future. But I am not inclined to
put up with Mr. Slope. Sabbath traveling! " and the doctor
attempted to imitate the peculiar drawl of the man he so much
disliked: "Sabbath traveling! ' Those are the sort of men who
will ruin the Church of England, and make the profession of a
clergyman disreputable. It is not the dissenters or the papists
that we should fear, but the set of canting, low-bred hypocrites
who are wriggling their way in among us; men who have no
fixed principle, no standard ideas of religion or doctrine, but who
take up some popular cry, as this fellow has done about 'Sab-
bath traveling. '"
Dr. Grantly did not again repeat the question aloud, but he did
so constantly to himself, "What were they to do with Mr. Slope ? »


## p. 15038 (#622) ##########################################

15038
ANTHONY TROLLOPE
How was he openly, before the world, to show that he utterly
disapproved of and abhorred such a man?
Hitherto Barchester had escaped the taint of any extreme
rigor of church doctrine. The clergymen of the city and neigh-
borhood, though very well inclined to promote high-class princi-
ples, privileges, and prerogatives, had never committed themselves
to tendencies which are somewhat too loosely called Puseyite prac-
tices. They all preached in their black gowns, as their fathers
had done before them; they wore ordinary black cloth waistcoats;
they had no candles on their altars, either lighted or unlighted;
they made no peculiar genuflexions, and were contented to con-
fine themselves to such ceremonial observances as had been in
vogue for the last hundred years. The services were decently
and demurely read in their parish churches, chanting was con-
fined to the cathedral, and the science of intoning was unknown.
One young man who had come direct from Oxford as a curate
to Plumstead had, after the lapse of two or three Sundays,
made a faint attempt, much to the bewilderment of the poorer
part of the congregation. Dr. Grantly had not been present on
the occasion; but Mrs. Grantly, who had her own opinion on the
subject, immediately after the service expressed a hope that the
young gentleman had not been taken ill, and offered to send
him all kinds of condiments supposed to be good for a sore throat.
After that there had been no more intoning at Plumstead Epis-
copi.
But now the archdeacon began to meditate on some strong
measures of absolute opposition. Dr. Proudie and his crew were
of the lowest possible order of Church of England clergymen;
and therefore it behoved him, Dr. Grantly, to be of the very
highest. Dr. Proudie would abolish all forms and ceremonies;
and therefore Dr. Grantly felt the sudden necessity of multiply.
ing them. Dr. Proudie would consent to deprive the Church of
all collective authority and rule; and therefore Dr. Grantly would
stand up for the full power of convocation, and the renewal of
all its ancient privileges.
It was true that he could not himself intone the service; but
he could procure the co-operation of any number of gentleman-
like curates well trained in the mystery of doing so. He would
not willingly alter his own fashion of dress; but he could people
Barchester with young clergymen dressed in the longest frocks,
and in the highest-breasted silk waistcoats. He certainly was not


## p. 15039 (#623) ##########################################

ANTHONY TROLLOPE
15039
prepared to cross himself, or to advocate the real presence; but
without going this length, there were various observances, by
adopting which he could plainly show his antipathy to such men
as Dr. Proudie and Mr. Slope.
All these things passed through his mind as he paced up and
down the close with Mr. Harding. War, war, internecine war
was in his heart. He felt that, as regarded himself and Mr.
Slope, one of the two must be annihilated as far as the city of
Barchester was concerned; and he did not intend to give way
until there was not left to him an inch of ground on which he
could stand. He still flattered himself that he could make Bar-
chester too hot to hold Mr. Slope; and he had no weakness of
spirit to prevent his bringing about such a consummation if it
were in his power.
"I suppose Susan must call at the palace," said Mr. Harding.
"Yes, she shall call there; but it shall be once and once
only. I dare say 'the horses' won't find it convenient to come
out to Plumstead very soon, and when that once is done the
matter may drop. "
"I don't suppose Eleanor need call. I don't think Eleanor
would get on at all well with Mrs. Proudie. "
"Not the least necessity in life," replied the archdeacon, re-
flecting that a ceremony which was necessary for his wife might
not be at all binding on the widow of John Bold. "Not the
slightest reason on earth why she should do so, if she doesn't
like it. For myself, I don't think that any decent young woman
should be subjected to the nuisance of being in the same room
with that man. "
And so the two clergymen parted; Mr. Harding going to his
daughter's house, and the archdeacon seeking the seclusion of his
brougham.
The new inhabitants of the palace did not express any higher
opinion of their visitors than their visitors had expressed of
them. Though they did not use quite such strong language as
Dr. Grantly had done, they felt as much personal aversion, and
were quite as well aware as he was that there would be a battle
to be fought, and that there was hardly room for Proudieism in
Barchester as long as Grantlyism was predominant.
Indeed, it may be doubted whether Mr. Slope had not already
within his breast a better prepared system of strategy, a more
accurately defined line of hostile conduct, than the archdeacon.


## p. 15040 (#624) ##########################################

15040
ANTHONY TROLLOPE
Dr. Grantly was going to fight because he found that he hated
the man. Mr. Slope had predetermined to hate the man because
he foresaw the necessity of fighting him.
When he had first re-
viewed the carte du pays, previous to his entry into Barchester,
the idea had occurred to him of conciliating the archdeacon, of
cajoling and flattering him into submission, and of obtaining the
upper hand by cunning instead of courage. A little inquiry,
however, sufficed to convince him that all his cunning would fail
to win over such a man as Dr. Grantly to such a mode of action
as that to be adopted by Mr. Slope; and he then determined to
fall back upon his courage.
He at once saw that open battle
against Dr. Grantly and all Dr. Grantly's adherents was a neces-
sity of his position, and he deliberately planned the most expedi-
ent methods of giving offense.
Soon after his arrival, the bishop had intimated to the dean
that with the permission of the canon then in residence, his
chaplain would preach in the cathedral on the next Sunday.
The canon in residence happened to be the Hon. and Rev. Dr.
Vesey Stanhope, who at this time was very busy on the shores
of the Lake of Como, adding to that unique collection of butter-
flies for which he is so famous. Or rather, he would have been
in residence but for the butterflies and other such summer-day
considerations; and the vicar-choral, who was to take his place
in the pulpit, by no means objected to having his work done for
him by Mr. Slope.
Mr. Slope accordingly preached; and if a preacher can have
satisfaction in being listened to, Mr. Slope ought to have been
gratified. I have reason to think that he was gratified, and that
he left the pulpit with the conviction that he had done what he
intended to do when he entered it.
On this occasion the new bishop took his seat for the first
time in the throne allotted to him. New scarlet cushions and
drapery had been prepared, with new gilt binding and new
fringe. The old carved oak-wood of the throne, ascending with
its numerous grotesque pinnacles half-way up to the roof of the
choir, had been washed, and dusted, and rubbed, and it all looked
very smart.
Ah! how often sitting there, in happy early days,
on those lowly benches in front of the altar, have I whiled
away the tedium of a sermon in considering how best I might
thread my way up amidst those wooden towers, and climb safely
to the topmost pinnacle!


## p. 15041 (#625) ##########################################

ANTHONY TROLLOPE
15041
All Barchester went to hear Mr. Slope; - either for that or
to gaze at the new bishop. All the best bonnets of the city were
there, and moreover all the best glossy clerical hats. Not a stall
but had its fitting occupant; for though some of the prebendaries
might be away in Italy or elsewhere, their places were filled by
brethren who flocked into Barchester on the occasion. The dean
was there, a heavy old man, now too old indeed to attend fre-
quently in his place,- and so was the archdeacon. So also were
the chancellor, the treasurer, the precentor, sundry canons and
minor canons, and every lay member of the choir, prepared to
sing the new bishop in with due melody and harmonious ex-
pression of sacred welcome.
The service was certainly very well performed.
Such was
always the case at Barchester, as the musical education of the
choir had been good, and the voices had been carefully selected.
The psalms were beautifully chanted; the Te Deum was magnifi-
cently sung; and the litany was given in a manner which is still
to be found at Barchester, but, if my taste be correct, is to be
found nowhere else. The litany in Barchester cathedral has long
been the special task to which Mr. Harding's skill and voice have
been devoted. Crowded audiences generally make good per-
formers; and though Mr. Harding was not aware of any extraor-
dinary exertion on his part, yet probably he rather exceeded his
usual mark. Others were doing their best, and it was natural
that he should emulate his brethren. So the service went on,
and at last Mr. Slope got into the pulpit.
He chose for his text a verse from the precepts addressed by
St. Paul to Timothy, as to the conduct necessary in a spiritual
pastor and guide; and it was immediately evident that the good
clergy of Barchester were to have a lesson.
"Study to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that
needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth. "
These were the words of his text; and with such a subject in
such a place, it may be supposed that such a preacher would be
listened to by such an audience. He was listened to with breath-
less attention, and not without considerable surprise. Whatever
opinion of Mr. Slope might have been held in Barchester before
he commenced his discourse, none of his hearers, when it was
over, could mistake him either for a fool or a coward.
It would not be becoming were I to travesty a sermon, or
even to repeat the language of it in the pages of a novel. In
XXV-941
-


## p. 15042 (#626) ##########################################

ANTHONY TROLLOPE
15042
endeavoring to depict the characters of the persons of whom I
write, I am to a certain extent forced to speak of sacred things.
I trust, however, that I shall not be thought to scoff at the pul-
pit, though some may imagine that I do not feel all the rever-
ence that is due to the cloth. I may question the infallibility of
the teachers, but I hope that I shall not therefore be accused of
doubt as to the thing to be taught.
Mr. Slope, in commencing his sermon, showed no slight tact
in his ambiguous manner of hinting that, humble as he was him-
self, he stood there as the mouthpiece of the illustrious divine
who sat opposite to him; and having premised so much, he gave
forth a very accurate definition of the conduct which that prelate
would rejoice to see in the clergymen now brought under his
jurisdiction. It is only necessary to say that the peculiar points
insisted upon were exactly those which were most distasteful to
the clergy of the diocese, and most averse to their practice and
opinions; and that all those peculiar habits and privileges which
have always been dear to high-church priests, to that party which
is now scandalously called the high-and-dry church, were ridi-
culed, abused, and anathematized. Now, the clergymen of the
diocese of Barchester are all of the high-and-dry church.
Having thus, according to his own opinion, explained how a
clergyman should show himself approved unto, God, as a work-
man that needeth not to be ashamed, he went on to explain how
the word of truth should be divided; and here he took a rather
narrow view of the question, and fetched his arguments from
afar. His object was to express his abomination of all ceremoni-
ous modes of utterance, to cry down any religious feeling which
might be excited, not by the sense, but by the sound of words,
and in fact to insult cathedral practices. Had St. Paul spoken of
rightly pronouncing instead of rightly dividing the word of truth,
this part of his sermon would have been more to the purpose;
but the preacher's immediate object was to preach Mr. Slope's
doctrine, and not St. Paul's, and he contrived to give the neces-
sary twist to the text with some skill.
He could not exactly say, preaching from a cathedral pulpit,
that chanting should be abandoned in cathedral services.
By
such an assertion, he would have overshot his mark and ren-
dered himself absurd,-to the delight of his hearers. He could,
however, and did,- allude with heavy denunciations to the prac
tice of intoning in parish churches, although the practice was
-


## p. 15043 (#627) ##########################################

ANTHONY TROLLOPE
15043
all-but unknown in the diocese; and from thence he came round
to the undue preponderance which, he asserted, music had over
meaning in the beautiful service which they had just heard. He
was aware, he said, that the practices of our ancestors could not
be abandoned at a moment's notice; the feelings of the aged
would be outraged, and the minds of respectable men would be
shocked. There were many, he was aware, of not sufficient cali-
bre of thought to perceive, of not sufficient education to know,
that a mode of service which was effective when outward cere-
monies were of more moment than inward feelings, had become
all-but barbarous at a time when inward conviction was every-
thing, when each word of the minister's lips should fall intelli-
gibly into the listener's heart. Formerly the religion of the
multitude had been an affair of the imagination. Now, in these
latter days, it had become necessary that a Christian should have
a reason for his faith; should not only believe, but digest - not
only hear, but understand. The words of our morning service,-
how beautiful, how apposite, how intelligible they were, when
read with simple and distinct decorum! but how much of the
meaning of the words was lost when they were produced with
all the meretricious charms of melody! etc. , etc.
Here was a sermon to be preached before Mr. Archdeacon
Grantly, Mr. Precentor Harding, and the rest of them! before a
whole dean and chapter assembled in their own cathedral! before
men who had grown old in the exercise of their peculiar serv-
ices, with a full conviction of their excellence for all intended
purposes! This too from such a man, a clerical parvenu, a man
without a cure, a mere chaplain, an intruder among them; a fel-
low raked up, so said Dr. Grantly, from the gutters of Maryle-
bone! They had to sit through it. None of them, not even Dr.
Grantly, could close his ears, nor leave the house of God during
the hours of service. They were under an obligation of listen-
ing, and that too without any immediate power of reply.
There is perhaps no greater hardship at present inflicted on
mankind, in civilized and free countries, than the necessity of
listening to sermons. No one but a preaching clergyman has, in
these realms, the power of compelling an audience to sit silent
and be tormented. No one but a preaching clergyman can
revel in platitudes, truisms, and untruisms, and yet receive, as
his undisputed privilege, the same respectful demeanor as though
words of impassioned eloquence or persuasive logic fell from his


## p. 15044 (#628) ##########################################

ANTHONY TROLLOPE
15044
lips. Let a professor of law or physic find his place in a lecture-
room, and there pour forth jejune words and useless empty
phrases, and he will pour them forth to empty benches. Let a
barrister attempt to talk without talking well, and he will talk
but seldom. A judge's charge need be listened to perforce by
none but the jury, prisoner, and jailer. A Member of Parlia-
ment can be coughed down or counted out. Town councilors
can be tabooed. But no one can rid himself of the preaching
clergyman. He is the bore of the age, the old man whom we
Sindbads cannot shake off, the nightmare that disturbs our Sun-
day's rest, the incubus that overloads our religion and makes
God's service distasteful. We are not forced into church! No;
but we desire more than that. We desire not to be forced to
stay away. We desire, nay, we are resolute, to enjoy the com-
fort of public worship: but we desire also that we may do so
without an amount of tedium which ordinary human nature can-
not endure with patience; that we may be able to leave the
house of God without that anxious longing for escape which is
the common consequence of common sermons.
With what complacency will a young parson deduce false con-
clusions from misunderstood texts, and then threaten us with all
the penalties of Hades if we neglect to comply with the injunc-
tions he has given us! Yes, my too self-confident juvenile friend,
I do believe in those mysteries which are so common in your
mouth; I do believe in the unadulterated Word which you hold
there in your hand: but you must pardon me if, in some things,
I doubt your interpretation. The Bible is good, the Prayer-Book
is good; nay, you yourself would be acceptable, if you would read
to me some portion of those time-honored discourses which our
great divines have elaborated in the full maturity of their powers.
But you must excuse me, my insufficient young lecturer, if I yawn
over your imperfect sentences, your repeated phrases, your false
pathos, your drawlings and denouncings, your humming and
hawing, your oh-ing and ah-ing, your black gloves and your white
handkerchief. To me, it all means nothing; and hours are too
precious to be so wasted- if one could only avoid it.
And here I must make a protest against the pretense, so
often put forward by the working clergy, that they are over-
burdened by the multitude of sermons to be preached. We are
all too fond of our own voices, and a preacher is encouraged in
the vanity of making his heard by the privilege of a compelled
-


## p. 15045 (#629) ##########################################

ANTHONY TROLLOPE
15045
audience. His sermon is the pleasant morsel of his life, his deli-
cious moment of self-exaltation. "I have preached nine sermons
this week," said a young friend to me the other day, with hand
languidly raised to his brow, the picture of an overburdened
martyr. "Nine this week, seven last week, four the week before.
I have preached twenty-three sermons this month. It is really
too much. " "Too much indeed," said I, shuddering; "too much
for the strength of any one. " "Yes," he answered meekly,
"indeed it is; I am beginning to feel it painfully. " "Would,"
said I, «< 'you could feel it; would that you could be made to feel
it. "
But he never guessed that my heart was wrung for the
poor listeners.
There was, at any rate, no tedium felt in listening to Mr.
Slope on the occasion in question. His subject came too home
to his audience to be dull; and to tell the truth, Mr. Slope had
the gift of using words forcibly. He was heard through his
thirty minutes of eloquence with mute attention and open ears;
but with angry eyes, which glared round from one enraged par-
son to another, with wide-spread nostrils from which already
burst forth fumes of indignation, and with many shufflings of
the feet and uneasy motions of the body, which betokened minds
disturbed, and hearts not at peace with all the world.
At last the bishop, who, of all the congregation, had been
most surprised, and whose hair almost stood on end with terror,
gave the blessing in a manner not at all equal to that in which
he had long been practicing it in his own study, and the congre-
gation was free to go their way.
THE BISHOP OF BARCHESTER IS CRUSHED
From The Last Chronicle of Barset >
WHO
HO inquires why it is that a little greased flour rubbed in
among the hair on a footman's head,- just one dab here
and another there, gives such a tone of high life to the
family? And seeing that the thing is so easily done, why do not
more people attempt it? The tax on hair-powder is but thirteen.
shillings a year. It may indeed be that the slightest dab in the
world justifies the wearer in demanding hot meat three times.
a day, and wine at any rate on Sundays. I think, however, that
a bishop's wife may enjoy the privilege without such heavy
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15046
ANTHONY TROLLOPE
attendant expense; otherwise the man who opened the bishop's
door to Mr. Crawley would hardly have been so ornamented.
The man asked for a card. "My name is Mr. Crawley," said
our friend. "The bishop has desired me to come to him at this
hour. Will you be pleased to tell him that I am here. " The
man again asked for a card. "I am not bound to carry with me
my name printed on a ticket," said Mr. Crawley. "If you can-
not remember it, give me pen and paper, and I will write it. "
The servant, somewhat awed by the stranger's manner, brought
the pen and paper, and Mr. Crawley wrote his name.
«THE REV. JOSIAH CRAWLEY, M. A. ,
Perpetual Curate of Hogglestock. »
He was then ushered into a waiting-room; but to his dis-
appointment, was not kept there waiting long. Within three
minutes he was ushered into the bishop's study, and into the
presence of the two great luminaries of the diocese. He was at
first somewhat disconcerted by finding Mrs. Proudie in the room.
In the imaginary conversation with the bishop which he had
been preparing on the road, he had conceived that the bishop
would be attended by a chaplain, and he had suited his words to
the joint discomfiture of the bishop and of the lower clergyman;
but now the line of his battle must be altered. This was no
doubt an injury, but he trusted to his courage and readiness to
enable him to surmount it. He had left his hat behind him in
the waiting-room, but he kept his old short cloak still upon his
shoulders; and when he entered the bishop's room his hands and
arms were hid beneath it. There was something lowly in this
constrained gait. It showed at least that he had no idea of
being asked to shake hands with the august persons he might
meet. And his head was somewhat bowed, though his great,
bald, broad forehead showed itself so prominent, that neither the
bishop nor Mrs. Proudie could drop it from their sight during the
whole interview. He was a man who when seen could hardly be
forgotten. The deep, angry, remonstrant eyes, the shaggy eye-
brows, telling tales of frequent anger,-of anger frequent but
generally silent,― the repressed indignation of the habitual frown,
the long nose and large powerful mouth, the deep furrows on
the cheek, and the general look of thought and suffering, all
combined to make the appearance of the man remarkable, and
to describe to the beholders at once his true character. No one


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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
15047
ever on seeing Mr. Crawley took him to be a happy man, or a
weak man, or an ignorant man, or a wise man.
"You are very punctual, Mr. Crawley," said the bishop. Mr.
Crawley simply bowed his head, still keeping his hands beneath.
his cloak. "Will you not take a chair nearer to the fire? " Mr.
Crawley had not seated himself, but had placed himself in front
of a chair at the extreme end of the room, resolved that he
would not use it unless he were duly asked. Now he seated
himself, still at a distance.
-
"Thank you, my lord," he said: "I am warm with walking,
and if you please, will avoid the fire. "
"You have not walked, Mr. Crawley? "
"Yes, my lord. I have been walking. "
"Not from Hogglestock! "
Now, this was a matter which Mr. Crawley certainly did not
mean to discuss with the bishop. It might be well for the bishop
to demand his presence in the palace, but it could be no part of
the bishop's duty to inquire how he got there. "That, my lord,
is a matter of no moment," said he. "I am glad at any rate
that I have been enabled to obey your Lordship's order in coming
hither on this morning. "
Hitherto Mrs. Proudie had not said a word. She stood
back in the room, near the fire,- more backward a good deal
than she was accustomed to do when clergymen made their ordi-
nary visits.
On such occasions she would come forward and
shake hands with them graciously,- graciously even if proudly:
but she felt that she must do nothing of that kind now; there
must be no shaking hands with a man who had stolen a cheque
for twenty pounds! It might probably be necessary to keep
Mr. Crawley at a distance; and therefore she had remained in
the background. But Mr. Crawley seemed to be disposed to keep
himself in the background, and therefore she could speak. "I
hope your wife and children are well, Mr. Crawley? " she said.
"Thank you, madam, my children are well, and Mrs. Crawley
suffers no special ailment at present. "
"That is much to be thankful for, Mr. Crawley. " Whether
he were or were not thankful for such mercies as these, was no
business of the bishop or the bishop's wife. That was between
him and his God. So he would not even bow to this civility,
but sat with his head erect, and with a great frown on his heavy
brow.