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Barchester Towers

A >> Anthony Trollope >> Barchester Towers




It may be thought singular that Mrs Proudie's friendship for the
young clergyman should remain firm after such an affair; but, to
tell the truth, she had known nothing of it. Though very fond of Mr
Slope herself, she had never conceived the idea that either of her
daughters would become so, and remembering that their high birth
and social advantages, expected for them matches of a different
sort. Neither the gentleman nor the lady found it necessary to
enlighten her. Olivia's two sisters had each known of the affair,
so had all the servants, so had all the people living in the
adjoining houses on either side; but Mrs Proudie had been kept in
the dark.

Mr Slope soon comforted himself with the reflection that, as he had
been selected as chaplain to the bishop, it would probably be in
his power to get the good things in the bishop's gift, without
troubling himself with the bishop's daughter; and he found himself
able to endure the pangs of rejected love. As he sat himself down
in the railway carriage, confronting the bishop and Mrs Proudie, as
they started on their first journey to Barchester, he began to form
in his own mind a plan of his future life. He knew well his
patron's strong points, but he knew the weak ones as well. He
understood correctly enough to what attempts the new bishop's high
spirit would soar, and he rightly guessed that public life would
better suit the great man's taste, than the small details of
diocesan duty.

He, therefore, he, Mr Slope, would in effect be bishop of
Barchester. Such was his resolve; and to give Mr Slope his due, he
had both courage and spirit to bear him out in his resolution. He
knew that he should have a hard battle to fight, for the power and
patronage of the see would be equally coveted by another great
mind--Mrs Proudie would also choose to be bishop of Barchester. Mr
Slope, however, flattered himself that he could outmanoeuvre the
lady. She must live much in London, while he would always be on the
spot. She would necessarily remain ignorant of much while he would
know everything belonging to the diocese. At first, doubtless, he
must flatter and cajole, perhaps yield in some things; but he did
not doubt of ultimate triumph. If all other means failed, he could
join the bishop against the wife, inspire courage into the unhappy
man, lay an axe to the rock of the woman's power, and emancipate
the husband.

Such were his thoughts as he sat looking at the sleeping pair in
the railway carriage, and Mr Slope is not the man to trouble
himself with such thoughts for nothing. He is possessed of more
than average abilities, and is of good courage. Though he can stoop
to fawn, and stoop low indeed, if need be, he has still within him
the power to assume the tyrant; and with the power he has certainly
the wish. His acquirements are not of the highest order, but such
as they are they are completely under control, and he knows the use
of them. He is gifted with a certain kind of pulpit eloquence, not
likely, indeed, to be persuasive with men, but powerful with the
softer sex. In his sermons he deals greatly in denunciations,
excites the minds of his weaker hearers with a not unpleasant
terror, and leaves an impression on their minds that all mankind
are in a perilous state, and all womankind too, except those who
attend regularly to the evening lectures in Baker Street. His looks
and tones are extremely severe, so much so that one cannot but
fancy that he regards the greater part of the world as being
infinitely too bad for his care. As he walks through the streets,
his very face denotes his horror of the world's wickedness; and
there is always an anathema lurking in the corner of his eye.

In doctrine, he, like his patron, is tolerant of dissent, if so
strict a mind can be called tolerant of anything. With
Wesleyan-Methodists he has something in common, but his soul
trembles in agony at the iniquities of the Puseyites. His aversion
is carried to things outward as well as inward. His gall rises at a
new church with a high pitched roof; a full-breasted black silk
waistcoat is with him a symbol of Satan; and a profane jest-book
would not, in his view, more foully desecrate the church seat of a
Christian, than a book of prayer printed with red letters, and
ornamented with a cross on the back. Most active clergymen have
their hobby, and Sunday observances are his. Sunday, however, is a
word which never pollutes his mouth--it is always 'the Sabbath'.
The 'desecration of the Sabbath' as he delights to call it, is to
him meat and drink:--he thrives upon that as policemen do on the
general evil habits of the community. It is the loved subject of
all his evening discourses, the source of all his eloquence, the
secret of his power over the female heart. To him, the revelation
of God appears in that one law given for Jewish observance. To him
the mercies of our Saviour speak in vain, to him in vain has been
preached that sermon that fell from the divine lips on the
mountain--'Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the
earth'--'Blessed are the merciful, for the they shall obtain
mercy'. To him the New Testament is comparatively of little moment,
for from it can he draw no fresh authority for that dominion which
he loves to exercise over at least a seventh part of man's allotted
time here below.

Mr Slope is tall, and not ill made. His feet and hands are large,
as has ever been the case, with all his family, but he has a broad
chest and wide shoulders to carry off these excrescences, and on
the whole his figure is good. His countenance, however, is not
specially prepossessing. His hair is lank, and of a dull pale
reddish hue. It is always formed into three straight lumpy masses,
each brushed with admirable precision, and cemented with much
grease; two of them adhere closely to the sides of his face, and
the other lies at right angles above them. He wears no whiskers,
and is always punctiliously shaven. His face is nearly of the same
colour as his hair, though perhaps a little redder: it is not
unlike beef,--beef, however, one would say, of a bad quality. His
forehead is capacious and high, but square and heavy, and
unpleasantly shining. His mouth is large, though his lips are thin
and bloodless; and his big, prominent, pale brown eyes inspire
anything but confidence. His nose, however, is his redeeming
feature: it is pronounced straight and well-formed; though I myself
should have liked it better if it did not possess a somewhat
spongy, porous appearance, as though it had been cleverly formed
out of a red coloured cork.

I never could endure to shake hands with Mr Slope. A cold, clammy
perspiration always exudes from him, the small drops are ever to be
seen standing on his brow, and his friendly grasp is unpleasant.

Such is Mr Slope--such is the man who has suddenly fallen into the
midst of Barchester Close, and is destined there to assume the
station which has heretofore been filled by the son of the late
bishop. Think, oh, my meditative reader, what an associate we have
here for those comfortable prebendaries, those gentlemanlike
clerical doctors, those happy well-used, well-fed minor canons, who
have grown into existence at Barchester under the kindly wings of
Bishop Grantly!

But not as a mere associate for those does Mr Slope travel down to
Barchester with the bishop and his wife. He intends to be, if not
their master, at least the chief among them. He intends to lead,
and to have followers; he intends to hold the purse strings of the
diocese, and draw round him an obedient herd of his poor and hungry
brethren.

And here we can hardly fail to draw a comparison between the
archdeacon and our new private chaplain; and despite the manifold
faults of the former, one can hardly fail to make it much to his
advantage.

Both men are eager, much too eager, to support and increase the
power of their order. Both are anxious that the world should be
priest-governed, though they have probably never confessed as much,
even to themselves. Both begrudge any other kind of dominion held
by man over man. Dr Grantly, if he admits the Queen's supremacy in
things spiritual, only admits it as being due to the quasi
priesthood conveyed on the consecrating qualities of her
coronation; and he regards things temporal as being by their nature
subject to those which are spiritual. Mr Slope's ideas of
sacerdotal rule are of a quite different class. He cares nothing,
one way or the other, for the Queen's supremacy; these to his ears
are empty words, meaning nothing. Forms he regards but little, and
such titular expressions of supremacy, consecration, ordination,
and the like, convey of themselves no significance to him. Let him
be supreme who can. The temporal king, judge, or gaoler, can work
but on the body. The spiritual master, if he have the necessary
gifts, and can duly use them, has a wider field of empire. He works
upon the soul. If he can make himself be believed, he can be all
powerful over those who listen. If he is careful to meddle with
none who are too strong in intellect, or too weak in flesh, he may
indeed be supreme. And such was the ambition of Mr Slope.

Dr Grantly interfered very little with the worldly doings of those
who were in any way subject to him. I do not mean to say that he
omitted to notice misconduct among his clergy, immorality in his
parish, or omissions in his family; but he was not anxious to do so
where the necessity could be avoided. He was not troubled with a
propensity to be curious, and as long as those around him were
tainted with no heretical leaning towards dissent, as long as they
fully and freely admitted the efficacy of Mother Church, he was
willing that that mother should be merciful and affectionate, prone
to indulgence, and unwilling to chastise. He himself enjoyed the
good things of this world, and liked to let it be known that he did
so. He cordially despised any brother rector who thought harm of
dinner-parties, or dreaded the dangers of a moderate claret-jug;
consequently dinner-parties and claret-jugs were common in the
diocese. He liked to give laws and to be obeyed in them implicitly,
but he endeavoured that his ordinances should be within the compass
of the man, and not unpalatable to the gentleman. He had ruled
among his clerical neighbours now for sundry years, and as he had
maintained his power without becoming unpopular, it may be presumed
that he had exercised some wisdom.

Of Mr Slope's conduct much cannot be said, as his grand career is
yet to commence; but it may be presumed that his tastes will be
very different from those of the archdeacon. He conceives it to be
his duty to know all the private doings and desires of the flock
entrusted to his care. From the poorer classes he exacted and
unconditional obedience to set rules of conduct, and if disobeyed
he has recourse, like his great ancestor, to the fulminations of an
Ernulfus: 'Thou shalt be damned in thy going in and in thy coming
out--in thy eating and thy drinking,' &c &c &c. With the rich,
experience has already taught him a different line of action is
necessary. Men in the upper walks of life do not mind being cursed,
and the women, presuming that it be done in delicate phrase, rather
like it. But he has not, therefore, given up so important a portion
of believing Christians. With the men, indeed, he is generally at
variance; they are hardened sinners, on whom the voice of priestly
charmer often falls in vain; but with the ladies, old and young,
firm and frail, devout and dissipated, he is, as he conceives, all
powerful. He can reprove faults with so much flattery, and utter
censure in so caressing a manner, that the female heart, if it glow
with a spark of low church susceptibility, cannot withstand him. In
many houses he is thus an admired guest: the husbands, for their
wives' sake, are fain to admit him; and when once admitted it is
not easy to shake him off. He has, however, a pawing, greasy way
with him, which does not endear him to those who do not value him
for their souls' sake, and he is not a man to make himself at once
popular in a large circle such as is now likely to surround him at
Barchester.




CHAPTER V

A MORNING VISIT

It was known that Dr Proudie would immediately have to reappoint to
the wardenship of the hospital under the act of Parliament to which
allusion has been made; but no one imagined that any choice was
left to him--no one for a moment thought that he could appoint any
other than Mr Harding. Mr Harding himself, when he heard how the
matter had been settled, without troubling himself much on the
subject, considered it as certain that he would go back to his
pleasant house and garden. And though there would be much that was
melancholy, nay, almost heartrending, in such a return, he still
was glad that it was to be so. His daughter might probably be
persuaded to return there with him. She had, indeed, all but
promised to do so, though she still entertained an idea that the
greatest of mortals, that important atom of humanity, that little
god upon earth, Johnny Bold her baby, ought to have a house of his
own over his head.

Such being the state of Mr Harding's mind in the matter, he did not
feel any peculiar personal interest in the appointment of Dr
Proudie to the bishopric. He, as well as others at Barchester,
regretted that a man should be sent among them who, they were
aware, was not of their way of thinking; but Mr Harding himself was
not a bigoted man on points of church doctrine, and he was quite
prepared to welcome Dr Proudie to Barchester in a graceful and
becoming manner. He had nothing to seek and nothing to fear; he
felt that it behoved him to be on good terms with his bishop, and
he did not anticipate any obstacle that would prevent it.

In such a frame of mind he proceeded to pay his respects at the
palace the second day after the arrival of the bishop and his
chaplain. But he did not go alone. Dr Grantly proposed to accompany
him, and Mr Harding was not sorry to have a companion, who would
remove from his shoulders the burden of conversation in such an
interview. In the affair of the consecration of Dr Grantly had been
introduced to the bishop, and Mr Harding had also been there. He
had, however, kept himself in the background, and he was now to be
presented to the great man for the first time.

The archdeacon's feelings were of a much stronger nature. He was
not exactly the man to overlook his own slighted claims, or to
forgive the preference shown to another. Dr Proudie was playing
Venus to his Juno, and he was prepared to wage an internecine war
against the owner of the wished for apple, and all his satellites
private chaplains, and others.

Nevertheless, it behoved him also to conduct himself towards the
intruder as an old archdeacon should conduct himself to an incoming
bishop; and though he was well aware of all Dr Proudie's abominable
opinions as regarded dissenters, church reform, the hebdomadal
council, and such like; though he disliked the man, and hated the
doctrines, still he was prepared to show respect to the station of
the bishop. So he and Mr Harding called together at the palace.

His lordship was at home, and the two visitors were shown through
the accustomed hall into the well-known room, where the good old
bishop used to sit. The furniture had been bought at a valuation,
and every chair and table, every bookshelf against the wall, and
every square in the carpet, was as well known to each of them as
their own bedrooms. Nevertheless they at once felt that they were
strangers there. The furniture was for the most part the same, yet
the place had been metamorphosed. A new sofa had been introduced,
and horrid chintz affair, most unprelatical and almost irreligious;
such a sofa as never yet stood in the study of any decent high
church clergyman of the Church of England. The old curtains had
also given away. They had, to be sure, become dingy, and that which
had been originally a rich and goodly ruby had degenerated into a
reddish brown. Mr Harding, however, thought the old reddish brown
much preferable to the gaudy buff-coloured trumpery moreen which
Mrs Proudie had deemed good enough for her husband's own room in
the provincial city of Barchester.

Our friends found Dr Proudie sitting on the old bishop's chair,
looking very nice in his new apron; they found, too, Mr Slope
standing on the hearthrug, persuasive and eager, just as the
archdeacon used to stand; but on the sofa they also found Mrs
Proudie, an innovation for which a precedent might be in vain be
sought in all the annals of the Barchester bishopric!

There she was, however, and they could only make the best of her.
The introductions were gone through in much form. The archdeacon
shook hands with the bishop and named Mr Harding, who received such
an amount of greeting as was due from a bishop to a precentor. His
lordship then presented them to his lady wife; the archdeacon
first, with archidiaconal honours, and then the precentor with
diminished parade. After this Mr Slope presented himself. The
bishop, it is true, did mention his name, and so did Mrs Proudie
too, in a louder tone; but Mr Slope took it upon himself the chief
burden of his own introduction. He had great pleasure in making
himself acquainted with Dr Grantly; he had heard much of the
archdeacon's good works in that part of the diocese in which his
duties as archdeacon had been exercised (thus purposely ignoring
the archdeacon's hitherto unlimited dominion over the diocese at
large). He was aware that his lordship depended greatly on the
assistance which Dr Grantly would be able to give him in that
portion of the diocese. He then thrust out his hand, and grasping
that of his new foe, bedewed it unmercifully. Dr Grantly in return
bowed, looked stiff, contracted his eyebrows, and wiped his hand
with his pocket-handkerchief. Nothing abashed, Mr Slope then
noticed the precentor, and descended to the grade of the lower
clergy. He gave him a squeeze of the hand, damp indeed, but
affectionate, and was very glad to make the acquaintance of Mr -;
oh, yes, Mr Harding; he had not exactly caught the name--
'Precentor in the cathedral' surmised Mr Slope. Mr Harding
confessed that such was the humble sphere of his work. 'Some parish
duties as well,' suggested Mr Slope. Mr Harding acknowledged the
diminutive incumbency of St Cuthbert's. Mr Slope then left him
alone, having condescended sufficiently, and joined the
conversation among the higher powers.

There were four persons there, each of whom considered himself the
most important personage in the diocese; himself indeed, or
herself, as Mrs Proudie was one of them; and with such a difference
of opinion it was not probable that they would get on pleasantly
together. The bishop himself actually wore the visible apron, and
trusted mainly to that--to that and to his title, both being facts
which could not be overlooked. The archdeacon knew his subject, and
really understood the business of bishoping, which the others did
not; and this was his strong ground. Mrs Proudie had her sex to
back her, and her habit of command, and was nothing daunted by the
high tone of Dr Grantly's face and figure. Mr Slope had only
himself and his own courage and tact to depend on, but he
nevertheless was perfectly self-assured, and did not doubt but that
he should soon get the better of weak men who trusted so much to
externals, as both bishop and archdeacon appeared to do.

'Do you reside in Barchester, Dr Grantly?' asked the lady with the
sweetest smile.

Dr Grantly explained that he lived in his own parish of Plumstead
Episcopi, a few miles out of the city. Whereupon the lady hoped
that the distance was not too great for country visiting, as she
would be so glad to make the acquaintance of Mrs Grantly. She would
take the earliest opportunity, after the arrival of her horses at
Barchester; their horses were at present in London; their horses
were not immediately coming down, as the bishop would be obliged in
a few days, to return to town. Dr Grantly was no doubt aware that
the bishop was at present much called upon by the 'University
Improvement Committee': indeed, the Committee could not well
proceed without him, as their final report had now to be drawn up.
The bishop had also to prepare a scheme for the 'Manufacturing
Towns Morning and Evening Sunday School Society', of which he was a
patron, or president, or director, and therefore the horses would
not come down to Barchester at present; but whenever the horses did
come down, she would take the earliest opportunity of calling at
Plumstead Episcopi, providing the distance was not too great for
country visiting.

The archdeacon made his fifth bow: he had made one at each mention
of the horses; and promised that Mrs Grantly would do herself the
honour of calling at the palace on an early day. Mrs Proudie
declared that she would be delighted: she hadn't liked to ask, not
being quite sure whether Mrs Grantly had horses; besides, the
distance might have been &c, &c.

Dr Grantly again bowed, but said nothing. He could have bought
every single individual possession of the whole family of the
Proudies, and have restored them as a gift, without much feeling
the loss; and had kept a separate pair of horses for the exclusive
use of his wife since the day of their marriage; whereas Mrs
Proudie had been hitherto jobbed about the streets of London at so
much a month during the season; and at other times had managed to
walk, or hire a smart fly from the livery stables.

'Are the arrangements with reference to the Sabbath-day schools
generally pretty good in your archdeaconry?'

'Sabbath-day schools!' repeated the archdeacon with an affectation
of surprise. 'Upon my word, I can't tell; it depends mainly on the
parson's wife and daughters. There is none at Plumstead.'

This was almost a fib on the part of the Archdeacon, for Mrs
Grantly has a very nice school. To be sure it is not a Sunday
School exclusively, and is not so designated; but that exemplary
lady always attends there an hour before church, and hears the
children say their catechism, and sees that they are clean and tidy
for church, with their hands washed, and their shoes tied; and
Grisel and Florinda, her daughters, carry thither a basket of large
buns, baked on the Saturday afternoon, and distribute them to all
the children not especially under disgrace, which buns are carried
home after church with considerable content, and eaten hot at tea,
being then split and toasted. The children of Plumstead would
indeed open their eyes if they heard their venerated pastor declare
that there were no Sunday schools in the parish.

Mr Slope merely opened his eyes wider, and slightly shrugged his
shoulders. He was not, however, prepared to give up his darling
project.

'I fear there is a great deal of Sabbath travelling here,' said he,
'on looking at the 'Bradshaw', I see that there are three trains in
and three trains out every Sabbath. Could nothing be done to induce
the company to withdraw them? Don't you think, Dr Grantly, that a
little energy might diminish the evil?'

'Not being a director, I really can't say. But if you can withdraw
the passengers, their company, I dare say, will withdraw the
trains,' said the doctor. 'It's merely a question of dividends.'

'But surely, Dr Grantly,' said the lady, 'surely we should look at
it differently. You and I, for instance, in our position: surely we
should do all that we can to control so grievous a sin. Don't you
think so, Mr Harding?' and she turned to the precentor, who was
sitting mute and unhappy.

Mr Harding thought that all porters and stokers, guards, breaksmen,
pointsmen ought to have an opportunity of going to church, and he
hoped that they all had.

'But surely, surely,' continued Mrs Proudie, 'surely that is not
enough. Surely that will not secure such an observance of the
Sabbath as we are taught to conceive is not only expedient by
indispensable; surely--'

Come what come might, Dr Grantly was not to be forced into a
dissertation on a point of doctrine with Mrs Proudie, nor yet with
Mr Slope; so without much ceremony he turned his back upon the
sofa, and began to hope that Dr Proudie had found the palace
repairs had been such as to meet his wishes.

'Yes, yes,' said his lordship; upon the whole he thought so--upon
the whole, he didn't know that there was much ground for complaint;
the architect, perhaps, might have--but his double, Mr Slope, who
had sidled over to the bishop's chair, would not allow his lordship
to finish his ambiguous speech.

'There is one point I would like to mention, Mr Archdeacon. His
lordship asked me to step through the premises, and I see that the
stalls in the second stable are not perfect.'

'Why--there's standing for a dozen horses,'said the archdeacon.

'Perhaps so,' said the other; 'indeed, I've no doubt of it; but
visitors, you know, often require so much accommodation. There are
many of the bishop's relatives who always bring their own horses.'

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