The Last Chronicle of Barset

  CHAPTER XXI.

  MR. ROBARTS ON HIS EMBASSY.

  Mr. Robarts was not altogether easy in his mind as he approached Mr.Crawley's house. He was aware that the task before him was a verydifficult one, and he had not confidence in himself,--that he wasexactly the man fitted for the performance of such a task. He was alittle afraid of Mr. Crawley, acknowledging tacitly to himself thatthe man had a power of ascendancy with which he would hardly be ableto cope successfully. In old days he had once been rebuked by Mr.Crawley, and had been cowed by the rebuke; and though there was notouch of rancour in his heart on this account, no slightest remainingvenom,--but rather increased respect and friendship,--still hewas unable to overcome the remembrance of the scene in which theperpetual curate of Hogglestock had undoubtedly had the masteryof him. So, when two dogs have fought and one has conquered, theconquered dog will always show an unconscious submission to theconqueror.

  He hailed a boy on the road as he drew near to the house, knowingthat he would find no one at the parsonage to hold his horse for him,and was thus able without delay to walk through the garden and knockat the door. "Papa was not at home," Jane said. "Papa was at theschool. But papa could certainly be summoned. She herself would runacross to the school if Mr. Robarts would come in." So Mr. Robartsentered, and found Mrs. Crawley in the sitting-room. Mr. Crawleywould be in directly, she said. And then, hurrying on to the subjectwith confused haste, in order that a word or two might be spokenbefore her husband came back, she expressed her thanks and his forthe good things which had been sent to them at Christmas-tide.

  "It's old Lady Lufton's doings," said Mr. Robarts, trying to laughthe matter over.

  "I knew that it came from Framley, Mr. Robarts, and I know how goodyou all are there. I have not written to thank Lady Lufton. I thoughtit better not to write. Your sister will understand why, if no oneelse does. But you will tell them from me, I am sure, that it was, asthey intended, a comfort to us. Your sister knows too much of us forme to suppose that our great poverty can be secret from her. And, asfar as I am concerned, I do not now much care who knows it."

  "There is no disgrace in not being rich," said Mr. Robarts.

  "No; and the feeling of disgrace which does attach itself to being sopoor as we are is deadened by the actual suffering which such povertybrings with it. At least it has become so with me. I am not ashamedto say that I am very grateful for what you all have done for us atFramley. But you must not say anything to him about that."

  "Of course I will not, Mrs. Crawley."

  "His spirit is higher than mine, I think, and he suffers more fromthe natural disinclination which we all have to receiving alms. Areyou going to speak to him about this affair of the--cheque, Mr.Robarts?"

  "I am going to ask him to put his case into some lawyer's hands."

  "Oh! I wish he would!"

  "And will he not?"

  "It is very kind of you, your coming to ask him, but--"

  "Has he so strong an objection?"

  "He will tell you that he has no money to pay a lawyer."

  "But, surely, if he were convinced that it was absolutely necessaryfor the vindication of his innocence, he would submit to chargehimself with an expense so necessary, not only for himself, but forhis family?"

  "He will say it ought not to be necessary. You know, Mr. Robarts,that in some respects he is not like other men. You will not let whatI say of him set you against him?"

  "Indeed, no."

  "It is most kind of you to make the attempt. He will be heredirectly, and when he comes I will leave you together."

  While she was yet speaking his step was heard along the gravel-path,and he hurried into the room with quick steps. "I crave your pardon,Mr. Robarts," he said, "that I should keep you waiting." Now Mr.Robarts had not been there ten minutes, and any such asking ofpardon was hardly necessary. And, even in his own house, Mr.Crawley affected a mock humility, as though, either throughhis own debasement, or because of the superior station of theother clergyman, he were not entitled to put himself on an equalfooting with his visitor. He would not have shaken hands with Mr.Robarts,--intending to indicate that he did not presume to do sowhile the present accusation was hanging over him,--had not theaction been forced upon him. And then there was something of aprotest in his manner, as though remonstrating against a thing thatwas unbecoming to him. Mr. Robarts, without analysing it, understoodit all, and knew that behind the humility there was a crushingpride,--a pride which, in all probability, would rise up and crushhim before he could get himself out of the room again. It was,perhaps, after all, a question whether the man was not served rightlyby the extremities to which he was reduced. There was somethingradically wrong within him, which had put him into antagonism withall the world, and which produced these never-dying grievances. Therewere many clergymen in the country with incomes as small as thatwhich had fallen to the lot of Mr. Crawley, but they managed toget on without displaying their sores as Mr. Crawley displayed his.They did not wear their old rusty cloaks with all that ostentatiousbitterness of poverty which seemed to belong to that garment whendisplayed on Mr. Crawley's shoulders. Such, for a moment, were Mr.Robarts' thoughts, and he almost repented himself of his presentmission. But then he thought of Mrs. Crawley, and remembering thather sufferings were at any rate undeserved, determined that he wouldpersevere.

  Mrs. Crawley disappeared almost as soon as her husband appeared,and Mr. Robarts found himself standing in front of his friend, whoremained fixed on the spot, with his hands folded over each otherand his neck slightly bent forward, in token also of humility. "Iregret," he said, "that your horse should be left there, exposed tothe inclemency of the weather; but--"

  "The horse won't mind it a bit," said Mr. Robarts. "A parson's horseis like a butcher's, and knows that he mustn't be particular aboutwaiting in the cold."

  "I never have had one myself," said Mr. Crawley. Now Mr. Robarts hadhad more horses than one before now, and had been thought by someto have incurred greater expense than was befitting in his stablecomforts. The subject, therefore, was a sore one, and he was worrieda little. "I just wanted to say a few words to you, Crawley," hesaid, "and if I am not occupying too much of your time--"

  "My time is altogether at your disposal. Will you be seated?"

  Then Mr. Robarts sat down, and, swinging his hat between hislegs, bethought himself how he should begin his work. "We had thearchdeacon over at Framley the other day," he said. "Of course youknow the archdeacon?"

  "I never had the advantage of any acquaintance with Dr. Grantly. Ofcourse I know him well by name, and also personally,--that is, bysight."

  "And by character?"

  "Nay; I can hardly say so much as that. But I am aware that his namestands high with many of his order."

  "Exactly; that is what I mean. You know that his judgment is thoughtmore of in clerical matters than that of any other clergyman in thecounty."

  "By a certain party, Mr. Robarts."

  "Well, yes. They don't think much of him, I suppose, at the palace.But that won't lower him in your estimation."

  "I by no means wish to derogate from Dr. Grantly's high positionin his own archdeaconry,--to which, as you are aware, I am notattached,--nor to criticize his conduct in any respect. It would beunbecoming in me to do so. But I cannot accept it as a point in aclergyman's favour, that he should be opposed to his bishop."

  Now this was too much for Mr. Robarts. After all that he had heard ofthe visit paid by Mr. Crawley to the palace,--of the venom displayedby Mrs. Proudie on that occasion, and of the absolute want ofsubordination to episcopal authority which Mr. Crawley himself wassupposed to have shown,--Mr. Robarts did feel it hard that his friendthe archdeacon should be snubbed in this way because he was deficientin reverence for his bishop! "I thought, Crawley," he said, "thatyou yourself were inclined to dispute orders coming to you from thepalace. The world at least says as much concerning you."

  "What the world says of me I have learned to disregard very much, Mr.Robarts. But I hope
that I shall never disobey the authority of theChurch when properly and legally exercised."

  "I hope with all my heart you never will; nor I either. And thearchdeacon, who knows, to the breadth of a hair, what a bishop oughtto do and what he ought not, and what he may do and what he may not,will, I should say, be the last man in England to sin in that way."

  "Very probably. I am far from contradicting you there. Prayunderstand, Mr. Robarts, that I bring no accusation against thearchdeacon. Why should I?"

  "I didn't mean to discuss him at all."

  "Nor did I, Mr. Robarts."

  "I only mentioned his name, because, as I said, he was over with usthe other day at Framley, and we were all talking about your affair."

  "My affair!" said Mr. Crawley. And then came a frown upon his brow,and a gleam of fire into his eyes, which effectually banished thatlook of extreme humility which he had assumed. "And may I ask why thearchdeacon was discussing--my affair?"

  "Simply from the kindness which he bears to you."

  "I am grateful for the archdeacon's kindness, as a man is bound to befor any kindness, whether displayed wisely or unwisely. But it seemsto me that my affair, as you call it, Mr. Robarts, is of that naturethat they who wish well to me will better further their wishes bysilence than by any discussion."

  "Then I cannot agree with you." Mr. Crawley shrugged his shoulders,opened his hands a little and then closed them, and bowed his head.He could not have declared more clearly by any words that he differedaltogether from Mr. Robarts, and that as the subject was one sopeculiarly his own he had a right to expect that his opinion shouldbe allowed to prevail against that of any other person. "If you cometo that, you know, how is anybody's tongue to be stopped?"

  "That vain tongues cannot be stopped, I am well aware. I do notexpect that people's tongues should be stopped. I am not saying whatmen will do, but what good wishes should dictate."

  "Well, perhaps you'll hear me out for a minute." Mr. Crawley againbowed his head. "Whether we were wise or unwise, we were discussingthis affair."

  "Whether I stole Mr. Soames's money?"

  "No; nobody supposed for a moment you had stolen it."

  "I cannot understand how they should suppose anything else, knowing,as they do, that the magistrates have committed me for the theft.This took place at Framley, you say, and probably in Lord Lufton'spresence."

  "Exactly."

  "And Lord Lufton was chairman at the sitting of the magistrates atwhich I was committed. How can it be that he should think otherwise?"

  "I am sure he has not an idea that you were guilty. Nor yet has Dr.Thorne, who was also one of the magistrates. I don't suppose one ofthem then thought so."

  "Then their action, to say the least of it, was very strange."

  "It was all because you had nobody to manage it for you. I thoroughlybelieve that if you had placed the matter in the hands of a goodlawyer, you would never have heard a word more about it. That seemsto be the opinion of everybody I speak to on the subject."

  "Then in this country a man is to be punished or not, according tohis ability to fee a lawyer!"

  "I am not talking about punishment."

  "And presuming an innocent man to have the ability and not the willto do so, he is to be punished, to be ruined root and branch, selfand family, character and pocket, simply because, knowing his owninnocence, he does not choose to depend on the mercenary skill of aman whose trade he abhors for the establishment of that which shouldbe clear as the sun at noon-day! You say I am innocent, and yet youtell me I am to be condemned as a guilty man, have my gown takenfrom me, be torn from my wife and children, be disgraced before theeyes of all men, and be made a byword and a thing horrible to bementioned, because I will not fee an attorney to fee another manto come and lie on my behalf, to browbeat witnesses, to make falseappeals, and perhaps shed false tears in defending me. You have cometo me asking me to do this, if I understand you, telling me that thearchdeacon would so advise me."

  "That is my object." Mr. Crawley, as he had spoken, had in hisvehemence risen from his seat, and Mr. Robarts was also standing.

  "Then tell the archdeacon," said Mr. Crawley, "that I will have noneof his advice. I will have no one there paid by me to obstruct thecourse of justice or to hoodwink a jury. I have been in courts oflaw, and know what is the work for which these gentlemen are hired.I will have none of it, and I will thank you to tell the archdeaconso, with my respectful acknowledgments of his consideration andcondescension. I say nothing as to my own innocence, or my own guilt.But I do say that if I am dragged before that tribunal, an innocentman, and am falsely declared to be guilty, because I lack money tobribe a lawyer to speak for me, then the laws of this country deservebut little of that reverence which we are accustomed to pay to them.And if I be guilty--"

  "Nobody supposes you to be guilty."

  "And if I be guilty," continued Mr. Crawley, altogether ignoring theinterruption, except by the repetition of his words, and a slightraising of his voice, "I will not add to my guilt by hiring any oneto prove a falsehood or to disprove a truth."

  "I'm sorry that you should say so, Mr. Crawley."

  "I speak according to what light I have, Mr. Robarts; and if I havebeen over-warm with you,--and I am conscious that I have been infault in that direction,--I must pray you to remember that I amsomewhat hardly tried. My sorrows and troubles are so great that theyrise against me and disturb me, and drive me on,--whither I would notbe driven."

  "But, my friend, is not that just the reason why you should trust inthis matter to some one who can be more calm than yourself?"

  "I cannot trust to any one,--in a matter of conscience. To do as youwould have me is to me wrong. Shall I do wrong because I am unhappy?"

  "You should cease to think it wrong when so advised by persons youcan trust."

  "I can trust no one with my own conscience;--not even the archdeacon,great as he is."

  "The archdeacon has meant only well to you."

  "I will presume so. I will believe so. I do think so. Tell thearchdeacon from me that I humbly thank him;--that, in a matter ofchurch question, I might probably submit my judgment to his; eventhough he might have no authority over me, knowing as I do that insuch matters his experience has been great. Tell him also, thatthough I would fain that this unfortunate affair might burden thetongue of none among my neighbours,--at least till I shall have stoodbefore the judge to receive the verdict of the jury, and, if needful,his lordship's sentence--still I am convinced that in what he hasspoken, as also in what he has done, he has not yielded to theidleness of gossip, but has exercised his judgment with intendedkindness."

  "He has certainly intended to do you a service; and as for its notbeing talked about, that is out of the question."

  "And for yourself, Mr. Robarts, whom I have ever regarded as a friendsince circumstances brought me into your neighbourhood,--for you,whose sister I love tenderly in memory of past kindness, though nowshe is removed so far above my sphere, as to make it unfit that Ishould call her my friend--"

  "She does not think so at all."

  "For yourself, as I was saying, pray believe me that though from theroughness of my manner, being now unused to social intercourse, Iseem to be ungracious and forbidding, I am grateful and mindful, andthat in the tablets of my heart I have written you down as one inwhom I could trust,--were it given to me to trust in men and women."Then he turned round with his face to the wall and his back to hisvisitor, and so remained till Mr. Robarts had left him. "At any rateI wish you well through your trouble," said Robarts; and as he spokehe found that his own words were nearly choked by a sob that wasrising in his throat.

  He went away without another word, and got out to his gig withoutseeing Mrs. Crawley. During one period of the interview he had beenvery angry with the man,--so angry as to make him almost declare tohimself that he would take no more trouble on his behalf. Then hehad been brought to acknowledge that Mr. Walker was right, and thatCrawley was certainly mad. He was so mad, so far remo
ved from thedominion of sound sense, that no jury could say that he was guiltyand that he ought to be punished for his guilt. And, as he soresolved, he could not but ask himself the question, whether thecharge of the parish ought to be left in the hands of such a man? Butat last, just before he went, these feelings and these convictionsgave way to pity, and he remembered simply the troubles which seemedto have been heaped on the head of this poor victim to misfortune.As he drove home he resolved that there was nothing left for him todo, but to write to the dean. It was known to all who knew them both,that the dean and Mr. Crawley had lived together on the closestintimacy at college, and that that friendship had been maintainedthrough life;--though, from the peculiarity of Mr. Crawley'scharacter, the two had not been much together of late years. Seeinghow things were going now, and hearing how pitiful was the plight inwhich Mr. Crawley was placed, the dean would, no doubt, feel it to behis duty to hasten his return to England. He was believed to be atthis moment in Jerusalem, and it would be long before a letter couldreach him; but there still wanted three months to the assizes, andhis return might be probably effected before the end of February.

  "I never was so distressed in my life," Mark Robarts said to hiswife.

  "And you think you have done no good?"

  "Only this, that I have convinced myself that the poor man is notresponsible for what he does, and that for her sake as well asfor his own, some person should be enabled to interfere for hisprotection." Then he told Mrs. Robarts what Mr. Walker had said; alsothe message which Mr. Crawley had sent to the archdeacon. But theyboth agreed that that message need not be sent on any further.