CHAPTER LXII.
MR. CRAWLEY'S LETTER TO THE DEAN.
Mr. Crawley, when he got home after his walk to Silverbridge, deniedthat he was at all tired. "The man at Silverbridge, whom I went tosee administered refreshment to me;--nay, he administered it withsalutary violence," he said, affecting even to laugh. "And I ambound to speak well of him on behalf of mercies over and beyond thatexhibited by the persistent tender of some wine. That I should findhim judicious I had expected. What little I have known of him taughtme so to think of him. But I found with him also a softness of heartfor which I had not looked."
"And you will not give up the living, Josiah?"
"Most certainly I will. A duty, when it is clear before a man, shouldnever be made less so by any tenderness in others." He was stillthinking of Giles Hoggett. "It's dogged as does it." The poor womancould not answer him. She knew well that it was vain to argue withhim. She could only hope that in the event of his being acquittedat the trial, the dean, whose friendship she did not doubt, mightre-endow him with the small benefice which was their only source ofbread.
On the following morning there came by post a short note from Dr.Tempest. "My dear Mr. Crawley," the note ran,
I implore you, if there be yet time, to do nothing rashly. And even although you should have written to the bishop or to the dean, your letters need have no effect, if you will allow me to make them inoperative. Permit me to say that I am a man much older than you, and one who has mixed much both with clergymen and with the world at large. I tell you with absolute confidence, that it is not your duty in your present position to give up your living. Should your conduct ever be called in question on this matter you will be at perfect liberty to say that you were guided by my advice. You should take no step till after the trial. Then, if the verdict be against you, you should submit to the bishop's judgment. If the verdict be in your favour, the bishop's interference will be over.
And you must remember that if it is not your duty as a clergyman to give up your living, you can have no right, seeing that you have a wife and family, to throw it away as an indulgence to your pride. Consult any other friend you please;--Mr. Robarts, or the dean himself. I am quite sure that any friend who knows as many of the circumstances as I know will advise you to hold the living, at any rate till after the trial. You can refer any such friend to me.
Believe me to be, yours very truly,
MORTIMER TEMPEST.
Mr. Crawley walked about again with this letter in his pocket, buton this occasion he did not go in the direction of Hoggle End. FromHoggle End he could hardly hope to pick up further lessons of wisdom.What could any Giles Hoggett say to him beyond what he had said tohim already? If he were to read the doctor's letter to Hoggett, andto succeed in making Hoggett understand it all, Hoggett could onlycaution him to be dogged. But it seemed to him that Hoggett and hisnew friend at Silverbridge did not agree in their doctrines, and itmight be well that he should endeavour to find out which of them hadmost of justice on his side. He was quite sure that Hoggett wouldadvise him to adhere to his project of giving up the living,--if onlyHoggett could be made to understand the circumstances.
He had written, but had not as yet sent away his letter to the dean.
His letter to the bishop would be but a note, and he had postponedthe writing of that till the other should be copied and madecomplete.
He had sat up late into the night composing and altering his letterto his old friend, and now that the composition was finished he wasloth to throw it away. Early in this morning, before the postman hadbrought to him Dr. Tempest's urgent remonstrance, he had shown to hiswife the draught of his letter to the dean. "I cannot say that it isnot true," she had said.
"It is certainly true."
"But I wish, dear, you would not send it. Why should you take anystep till the trial be over?"
"I shall assuredly send it," he had replied. "If you will peruse itagain, you will see that the epistle would be futile were it kepttill I shall have been proved to be a thief."
"Oh, Josiah, such words kill me."
"They are not pleasant, but it will be well that you should becomeused to them. As for the letter, I have taken some trouble to expressmyself with perspicuity, and I trust that I may have succeeded." Atthat time Hoggett was altogether in the ascendant; but now, as hestarted on his walk, his mind was somewhat perturbed by the contraryadvice of one, who after all, might be as wise as Hoggett. Therewould be nothing dogged in the conduct recommended to him by Dr.Tempest. Were he to follow the doctor's advice, he would be trimminghis sails, so as to catch any slant of a breeze that might befavourable to him. There could be no doggedness in a character thatwould submit to such trimming.
The postman came to Hogglestock but once in a day, so that he couldnot despatch his letter till the next morning,--unless, indeed, hechose to send it a distance of four miles to the nearest post-office.As there was nothing to justify this, there was another night forthe copying of his letter,--should he at last determine to sendit. He had declared to Dr. Tempest that he would send it. He hadsworn to his wife that it should go. He had taken much trouble withit. He believed in Hoggett. But, nevertheless, this incumbency ofHogglestock was his all in the world. It might be that he could stillhold it, and have bread at least for his wife to eat. Dr. Tempest hadtold him that he would be probably acquitted. Dr. Tempest knew asmuch of all the circumstances as did he himself, and had told himthat he was not guilty. After all Dr. Tempest knew more about it thanHoggett knew.
If he resigned the living, what would become of him,--of him,--of himand of his wife? Whither would they first go when they turned theirback upon the door inside which there had at any rate been shelterfor them for many years? He calculated everything that he had, andfound that at the end of April, even when he should have received hisrent-charge, there would not be five pounds in hand among them. Asfor his furniture, he still owed enough to make it impossible that heshould get anything out of that. And these thoughts all had referenceto his position if he should be acquitted. What would become of hiswife if he should be convicted? And as for himself, whither should hego when he came out of prison?
He had completely realized the idea that Hoggett's counsel wasopposed to that given to him by Dr. Tempest; but then it mightcertainly be the case that Hoggett had not known all the facts. A manshould, no doubt, be dogged when the evils of life are insuperable;but need he be so when the evils can be overcome? Would not Hoggetthimself undergo any treatment which he believed to be specific forrheumatism? Yes; Hoggett would undergo any treatment that was not initself opposed to his duty. The best treatment for rheumatism mightbe to stay away from the brick-field on a rainy day; but if so,there would be no money to keep the pot boiling, and Hoggett wouldcertainly go to the brick-field, rheumatism and all, as long as hislimbs would carry him there. Yes; he would send his letter. It washis duty, and he would do it. Men looked askance at him, and pointedat him as a thief. He would send the letter, in spite of Dr. Tempest.Let justice be done, though the heaven may fall.
He had heard of Lady Lufton's offer to his wife. The offers of theLady Luftons of the world had been sorely distressing to his spirit,since it had first come to pass that such offers had reached him inconsequence of his poverty. But now there was something almost ofrelief to him in the thought that the Lady Luftons would, after somefashion, save his wife and children from starvation--would save hiswife from the poorhouse, and enable his children to have a start inthe world. For one of his children a brilliant marriage might beprovided,--if only he himself were out of the way. How could he takehimself out of the way? It had been whispered to him that he might beimprisoned for two months,--or for two years. Would it not be a grandthing if the judge would condemn him to be imprisoned for life? Wasthere ever a man whose existence was so purposeless, so useless, sodeleterious, as his own? And yet he knew Hebrew well, whereas thedean knew but very little Hebrew. He could make Greek iambics, anddoubted whether the
bishop knew the difference between an iambusand a trochee. He could disport himself with trigonometry, feelingconfident that Dr. Tempest had forgotten his way over the asses'bridge. He knew "Lycidas" by heart; and as for Thumble, he feltquite sure that Thumble was incompetent of understanding a singleallusion in that divine poem. Nevertheless, though all this wealth ofacquirement was his, it would be better for himself, better for thosewho belonged to him, better for the world at large, that he should beput an end to. A sentence of penal servitude for life, without anytrial, would be of all things the most desirable. Then there would beample room for the practice of that virtue which Hoggett had taughthim.
When he returned home the Hoggethan doctrine prevailed, and heprepared to copy his letter. But before he commenced his task, hesat down with his youngest daughter, and read,--or made her readto him,--a passage out of a Greek poem, in which are described thetroubles and agonies of a blind giant. No giant would have beenmore powerful,--only that he was blind, and could not see to avengehimself on those who had injured him. "The same story is alwayscoming up," he said, stopping the girl in her reading. "We have it invarious versions, because it is so true to life.
Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him Eyeless in Gaza, at the mill with slaves.
It is the same story. Great power reduced to impotence, great gloryto misery, by the hand of Fate,--Necessity, as the Greeks calledher; the goddess that will not be shunned! At the mill with slaves!People, when they read it, do not appreciate the horror of thepicture. Go on, my dear. It may be a question whether Polyphemushad mind enough to suffer; but, from the description of his power,I should think that he had. 'At the mill with slaves!' Can anypicture be more dreadful than that? Go on, my dear. Of course youremember Milton's Samson Agonistes. Agonistes indeed!" His wife wassitting stitching at the other side of the room; but she heard hiswords,--heard and understood them; and before Jane could again getherself into the swing of the Greek verse, she was over at herhusband's side, with her arms round his neck. "My love!" she said."My love!"
He turned to her, and smiled as he spoke to her. "These are oldthoughts with me. Polyphemus and Belisarius, and Samson and Milton,have always been pets of mine. The mind of the strong blind creaturemust be so sensible of the injury that has been done to him! Theimpotency, combined with his strength, or rather the impotencywith the memory of former strength and former aspirations, is soessentially tragic!"
She looked into his eyes as he spoke, and there was something ofthe flash of old days, when the world was young to them, and whenhe would tell her of his hopes, and repeat to her long passagesof poetry, and would criticize for her advantage the works of oldwriters. "Thank God," she said, "that you are not blind. It may yetbe all right with you."
"Yes,--it may be," he said.
"And you shall not be at the mill with slaves."
"Or, at any rate, not eyeless in Gaza, if the Lord is good to me.Come, Jane, we will go on." Then he took up the passage himself, andread it on with clear, sonorous voice, every now and then explainingsome passage or expressing his own ideas upon it, as though he werereally happy with his poetry.
It was late in the evening before he got out his small stock of bestletter-paper, and sat down to work at his letter. He first addressedhimself to the bishop; and what he wrote to the bishop was asfollows:--
Hogglestock Parsonage, April llth, 186--.
MY LORD BISHOP,
I have been in communication with Dr. Tempest, of Silverbridge, from whom I have learned that your lordship has been pleased to appoint a commission of inquiry,--of which commission he is the chairman,--with reference to the proceedings which it may be necessary that you should take, as bishop of this diocese, after my forthcoming trial at the approaching Barchester assizes. My lord, I think it right to inform you, partly with a view to the comfort of the gentlemen named on that commission, and partly with the purport of giving you that information which I think that a bishop should possess in regard to the clerical affairs of his own diocese, that I have by this post resigned my preferment at Hogglestock into the hands of the Dean of Barchester, by whom it was given to me. In these circumstances, it will, I suppose, be unnecessary for you to continue the commission which you have set in force; but as to that, your lordship will, of course, be the only judge.
I have the honour to be, my Lord Bishop, Your most obedient and very humble servant,
JOSIAH CRAWLEY, Perpetual Curate of Hogglestock
The Right Reverend The Bishop of Barchester, &c. &c. &c. The Palace, Barchester.
But the letter which was of real importance,--which was intended tosay something,--was that to the dean, and that also shall be given tothe reader. Mr. Crawley had been for a while in doubt how he shouldaddress his old friend in commencing this letter, understanding thatits tone throughout must, in a great degree, be made conformable withits first words. He would fain, in his pride, have begun "Sir." Thequestion was between that and "My dear Arabin." It had once betweenthem always been "Dear Frank" and "Dear Joe;" but the occasions for"Dear Frank" and "Dear Joe" between them had long been past. Crawleywould have been very angry had he now been called Joe by the dean,and would have bitten his tongue out before he would have called thedean Frank. His better nature, however, now prevailed, and he beganhis letter, and completed it as follows:--
MY DEAR ARABIN,
Circumstances, of which you have probably heard something, compel me to write to you, as I fear, at some length. I am sorry that the trouble of such a letter should be forced upon you during your holidays;--
Mr. Crawley, as he wrote this, did not forget to remind himself thathe never had any holidays;
--but I think you will admit, if you will bear with me to the end, that I have no alternative.
I have been accused of stealing a cheque for twenty pounds, which cheque was drawn by my Lord Lufton on his London bankers, and was lost out of his pocket by Mr. Soames, his lordship's agent, and was so lost, as Mr. Soames states,--not with an absolute assertion,--during a visit which he made to my parsonage here at Hogglestock. Of the fact that I paid the cheque to a tradesman in Silverbridge there is no doubt. When questioned about it, I first gave an answer which was so manifestly incorrect that it has seemed odd to me that I should not have had credit for a mistake from those who must have seen that detection was so evident. The blunder was undoubtedly stupid, and it now bears heavy on me. I then, as I have learned, made another error,--of which I am aware that you have been informed. I said that the cheque had come to me from you, and in saying so, I thought that it had formed a portion of that alms which your open-handed benevolence bestowed upon me when I attended on you, not long before your departure, in your library. I have striven to remember the facts. It may be,--nay, it probably is the case,--that such struggles to catch some accurate glimpse of bygone things do not trouble you. Your mind is, no doubt, clearer and stronger than mine, having been kept to its proper tune by greater and fitter work. With me, memory is all but gone, and the power of thinking is on the wane! I struggled to remember, and I thought that the cheque had been in the envelope which you handed to me,--and I said so. I have since learned, from tidings received, as I am told, direct from yourself, that I was as wrong in the second statement as I had been in the first. The double blunder has, of course, been very heavy on me.
I was taken before the magistrates at Silverbridge, and was by them committed to stand my trial at the assizes to be holden in Barchester on the 28th of this month. Without doubt, the magistrates had no alternative but to commit me, and I am indebted to them that they have allowed me my present liberty upon bail. That my sufferings in all this should have been grievous, you will understand. But on that head I should not touch, were it not that I am bound to explain to you that my troubles in reference to this parish of Hogglestock, to which I was appointed by you, have not been the sli
ghtest of those sufferings. I felt at first, believing then that the world around me would think it unlikely that such a one as I had wilfully stolen a sum of money, that it was my duty to maintain myself in my church. I did so maintain myself against an attack made upon me by the bishop, who sent over to Hogglestock one Mr. Thumble, a gentleman doubtless in holy orders, though I know nothing and can learn nothing of the place of his cure, to dispossess me of my pulpit and to remove me from my ministrations among my people. To Mr. Thumble I turned a deaf ear, and would not let him so much as open his mouth inside the porch of my church. Up to this time I myself have read the services, and have preached to the people, and have continued, as best I could, my visits to the poor and my labours in the school, though I know,--no one knows as well,--how unfitted I am for such work by the grief which has fallen upon me.
Then the bishop sent for me, and I thought it becoming on my part to go to him. I presented myself to his lordship at his palace, and was minded to be much governed in my conduct by what he might say to me, remembering that I am bound to respect the office, even though I may not approve the man; and I humbled myself before his lordship, waiting patiently for any directions which he in his discretion might think it proper to bestow on me. But there arose up between us that very pestilent woman, his wife,--to his dismay, seemingly, as much as to mine,--and she would let there be place for no speech but her own. If there be aught clear to me in ecclesiastical matters, it is this,--that no authority can be delegated to a female. The special laws of this and of some other countries do allow that women shall sit upon the temporal thrones of the earth, but on the lowest step of the throne of the Church no woman has been allowed to sit as bearing authority, the romantic tale of the woman Pope notwithstanding. Thereupon, I left the palace in wrath, feeling myself aggrieved that a woman should have attempted to dictate to me, and finding it hopeless to get a clear instruction from his lordship,--the woman taking up the word whenever I put a question to my lord the bishop. Nothing, therefore, came of that interview but fruitless labour to myself, and anger, of which I have since been ashamed.
Since that time I have continued in my parish,--working, not without zeal, though in truth, almost without hope,--and learning even from day to day that the opinions of men around me have declared me to be guilty of the crime imputed to me. And now the bishop has issued a commission as preparatory to proceeding against me under the Act for the punishment of clerical offences. In doing this, I cannot say that the bishop has been ill-advised, even though the advice may have come from that evil-tongued lady, his wife. And I hold that a woman may be called on for advice, with most salutary effect, in affairs as to which any show of female authority would be equally false and pernicious. With me it has ever been so, and I have had a counsellor by me as wise as she has been devoted.
It must be noticed that in the draught copy of his letter which Mr.Crawley gave to his wife to read this last sentence was not inserted.Intending that she should read his letter, he omitted it till he madethe fair copy.
Over this commission his lordship has appointed Dr. Tempest of Silverbridge to preside, and with him I have been in communication. I trust that the labours of the gentlemen of whom it is composed may be brought to a speedy close; and, having regard to their trouble, which in such a matter is, I fear, left without remuneration, I have informed Dr. Tempest that I should write this letter to you with the intent and assured purpose of resigning the perpetual curacy of Hogglestock into your hands.
You will be good enough, therefore, to understand that I do so resign the living, and that I shall continue to administer the services of the church only till some clergyman, certified to me as coming from you or from the bishop, may present himself in the parish, and shall declare himself prepared to undertake the cure. Should it be so that Mr. Thumble be sent hither again, I will sit under him, endeavouring to catch improvement from his teaching, and striving to overcome the contempt which I felt for him when he before visited this parish. I annex beneath my signature a copy of the letter which I have written to the bishop on this subject.
And now it behoves me, as the guardianship of the souls of those around me was placed in my hands by you, to explain to you as shortly as may be possible the reasons which have induced me to abandon my work. One or two whose judgment I do not discredit,--and I am allowed to name Dr. Tempest of Silverbridge as one,--have suggested to me that I should take no step myself till after my trial. They think that I should have regard to the chance of the verdict, so that the preferment may still be mine should I be acquitted; and they say, that should I be acquitted, the bishop's action against me must of necessity cease. That they are right in these facts I do not doubt; but in giving such advice they look only to facts, having no regard to the conscience. I do not blame them. I should give such advice myself, knowing that a friend may give counsel as to outer things, but that a man must satisfy his inner conscience by his own perceptions of what is right and what is wrong.
I find myself to be ill-spoken of, to be regarded with hard eyes by those around me, my people thinking that I have stolen this money. Two farmers in this parish have, as I am aware, expressed opinions that no jury could acquit me honestly, and neither of these men have appeared in my church since the expression of that opinion. I doubt whether they have gone to other churches; and if not they have been deterred from all public worship by my presence. If this be so, how can I with a clear conscience remain among these men? Shall I take from their hands wages for those administrations, which their deliberately formed opinions will not allow them to accept from my hands?
And yet, though he thus pleaded against himself, he knew that the twomen of whom he was speaking were thick-headed dolts who were alwaystipsy on Saturday nights, and who came to church perhaps once inthree weeks.
Your kind heart will doubtless prompt you to tell me that no clergyman could be safe in his parish if he were to allow the opinion of chance parishioners to prevail against him; and you would probably lay down for my guidance that grand old doctrine, "Nil conscire sibi, nulla pallescere culpa." Presuming that you may do so, I will acknowledge such guidance to be good. If my mind were clear in this matter, I would not budge an inch for any farmer,--no, nor for any bishop, further than he might by law compel me! But my mind is not clear. I do grow pale, and my hair stands on end with horror, as I confess to myself that I do not know whether I stole this money or no! Such is the fact. In all sincerity I tell you that I know not whether I be guilty or innocent. It may be that I picked up the cheque from the floor of my room, and afterwards took it out and used it, not knowing whence it had come to me. If it be so, I stole it, and am guilty before the laws of my country. If it be so, I am not fit to administer the Lord's sacraments to these people. When the cup was last in my hand and I was blessing them, I felt that I was not fit, and I almost dropped the chalice. That God will know my weakness and pardon me the perplexity of my mind,--that is between Him and His creature.
As I read my letter over to myself I feel how weak are my words, and how inefficient to explain to you the exact position in which I stand; but they will suffice to convince you that I am assuredly purposed to resign this parish of Hogglestock, and that it is therefore incumbent on you, as patron of the living, to nominate my successor to the benefice. I have only further to ask your pardon for this long letter, and to thank you again for the many and great marks of friendship which you have conferred on me. Alas, could you have foreseen in those old days how barren of all good would have been the life of him you then esteemed, you might perhaps have escaped the disgrace of being called the friend of one whom no one now regards with esteem.
Nevertheless, I may still say that I am, With all affection, yours truly,
&
nbsp; JOSIAH CRAWLEY.
The last paragraph of the letter was also added since his wife hadread it. When he had first composed his letter, he had been somewhatproud of his words, thinking that he had clearly told his story. Butwhen, sitting alone at his desk, he read it again, filling his mindas he went on with ideas which he would fain have expressed to hisold friend, were it not that he feared to indulge himself with toomany words, he began to tell himself that his story was anything butwell told. There was no expression there of the Hoggethan doctrine.In answer to such a letter as that the dean might well say, "Thinkagain of it. Try yet to save yourself. Never mind the two farmers, orMr. Thumble, or the bishop. Stick to the ship while there is a plankabove the water." Whereas it had been his desire to use words thatshould make the dean clearly understand that the thing was decided.He had failed,--as he had failed in everything throughout his life;but nevertheless the letter must go. Were he to begin again he wouldnot do it better. So he added to what he had written a copy of hisnote to the bishop, and the letter was fastened and sent.
Mrs. Crawley might probably have been more instant in her effortsto stop the letter, had she not felt that it would not decideeverything. In the first place it was not improbable that the lettermight not reach the dean till after his return home,--and Mrs.Crawley had long since made up her mind that she would see the deanas soon as possible after his return. She had heard from Lady Luftonthat it was not doubted in Barchester that he would be back at anyrate before the judges came into the city. And then, in the nextplace, was it probable that the dean would act upon such a letter byfilling up the vacancy, even if he did get it? She trusted in thedean, and knew that he would help them, if any help were possible.Should the verdict go against her husband, then indeed it might bethat no help would be possible. In such case she thought that thebishop with his commission might prevail. But she still believedthat the verdict would be favourable,--if not with an assured belief,still with a hope that was sufficient to stand in lieu of a belief.No single man, let alone no twelve men, could think that her husbandhad intended to appropriate that money dishonestly. That he hadtaken it improperly,--without real possession,--she herself believed;but he had not taken it as a thief, and could not merit a thief'spunishment.
After two days he got a reply from the bishop's chaplain, in whichthe chaplain expressed the bishop's commendation of Mr. Crawley'spresent conduct. "Mr. Thumble shall proceed from hence to Hogglestockon next Sunday," said the chaplain, "and shall relieve you for thepresent from the burden of your duties. As to the future status ofthe parish, it will perhaps be best that nothing shall be done tillthe dean returns,--or perhaps till the assizes shall be over. This isthe bishop's opinion." It need hardly be explained that the promisedvisit of Mr. Thumble to Hogglestock was gall and wormwood to Mr.Crawley. He had told the dean that should Mr. Thumble come, he wouldendeavour to learn something even from him. But it may be doubtedwhether Mr. Crawley in his present mood could learn anything usefulfrom Mr. Thumble. Giles Hoggett was a much more effective teacher.
"I will endure even that," he said to his wife, as she handed to himback the letter from the bishop's chaplain.