'I will allow that much attention is due from a clergyman to pastoral advice given to him by his bishop. On that head I must first express to your lordship my full understanding that your letter has not been intended to convey advice, but an order;--an inhibition, as your messenger, the Reverend Mr Thumble, has expressed it. There might be a case certainly in which I should submit myself to counsel, though I should resist command. No counsel, however, has been given--except indeed that I should receive your messenger in a proper spirit, which I hope I have done. No other advice has been given me, and therefore there is now no such case as that I have imagined. But in this matter, my lord, I could not have accepted advice from a living man, no, not though the hands of the apostles themselves had made him bishop who tendered it to me, and had set him over me for my guidance. I am in a terrible strait. Trouble, and sorrow, and danger are upon me and mine. It may well be, as your lordship says, that the bitter waters of the present hour may pass over my head and destroy me. I thank your lordship for telling me whither I am to look for assistance. Truly I know not whether there is any to be found for me on earth. But the deeper my troubles, the greater my sorrow, the more pressing any danger, the stronger is my need that Ishould carry myself in these days with that outward respect of self which will teach those around me to know that, let who will condemn me, I have not condemned myself. Were I to abandon my pulpit, unless forced to do so by legal means, I should in doing so be putting a plea of guilty against myself upon the record. This, my lord, I will not do.
'I have the honour to be, my lord, 'Your lordship's most obedient servant, 'JOSIAH CRAWLEY' When he had finished writing his letter he read it over slowly, and then handed it to Mr Thumble. The act of writing, and the current of the thoughts through his brain, and the feeling that in every word written he was getting the better of the bishop--all this joined to a certain manly delight in warfare against authority, lighted up the man's face and gave to his eyes an expression which had been long wanting to them.
His wife at that moment came into the room and he looked at her with an air of triumph as he handed the letter to Mr Thumble. 'If you will give that to his lordship with an assurance of my duty to his lordship in all things proper, I will thank you kindly, craving your pardon for the great delay to which you have been subjected.'
'As to the delay, it is nothing,' said Mr Thumble.
'It has been much; but you as a clergyman will feel that it has been incumbent upon me to speak my mind fully.'
'Oh, yes; of course.' Mr Crawley was standing up, as also was Mrs Crawley. It was evident to Mr Thumble that they both expected that he should go. But he had been especially enjoined to be firm, and he doubted whether hitherto he had been firm enough. As far as this morning's work had as yet gone, it seemed to him that Mr Crawley had had the play to himself, and that he, Mr Thumble, had not had his innings.
He, from the palace, had been, as it were, cowed by this man, who had been forced to plead his own poverty. It was certainly incumbent upon him, before he went, to speak up, not only for the bishop, but for himself also. 'Mr Crawley,' he said, 'hitherto I have listened to you patiently.'
'Nay,' said Mr Crawley, smiling, 'you have indeed been patient, and Ithank you; but my words have been written, not spoken.'
'You have told me that you intend to disobey the bishop's inhibition.'
'I have told the bishop so, certainly.'
'May I ask you now to listen to me for a few minutes?'
Mr Crawley, still smiling, still having in his eyes the unwonted triumph which had lighted them up, paused a moment, and then answered him.
'Reverend sir, you must excuse me if I say no--not on this subject.'
'You will not let me speak?'
'No; not on this matter, which is very private to me. What should you think if I went into your house and inquired of you as to those things which were particularly near to you?'
'But the bishop sent me.'
'Though ten bishops sent me--a council of archbishops if you will!' Mr Thumble started back, appalled by the energy of the words used to him.
'Shall a man have nothing of his own;--no sorrow in his heart, no care in his family, no thought in his breast so private and special to him, but that, if he happen to be a clergyman, the bishop may touch it with his thumb?'
'I am not the bishop's thumb,' said Mr Thumble, drawing himself up.
'I intended not to hint anything personally objectionable to yourself.
I will regard you as one of the angels of the church.' Mr Thumble, when he heard this, began to be sure that Mr Crawley was mad; he knew of no angels that could ride about the Barsetshire lanes on grey ponies. 'And as much as I respect you; but I cannot discuss with you the matter of the bishop's message.'
'Oh, very well. I will tell his lordship.'
'I will pray you to do so.'
'And his lordship, should he so decide, will arm me with such power on my next coming as will enable me to carry out his lordship's wishes.'
'His lordship will abide by the law, as will you also.' In speaking these last words he stood with the door in his hand, and Mr Thumble, not knowing how to increase or even maintain his firmness, thought it best to pass out, and mount his grey pony and ride away.
'The poor man thought that you were laughing at him when you called him an angel of the church,' said Mrs Crawley, coming up to him and smiling on him.
'Had I told him he was simply a messenger, he would have taken it worse;--poor fool! When they have rid themselves of me they may put him here, in my church; but not yet--not yet. Where is Jane? Tell her that Iam ready to commence the Seven against Thebes with her.' Then Jane was immediately sent for out of the school, and the Seven against Thebes was commenced with great energy. Often during the next hour and a half Mrs Crawley from the kitchen would hear him reading out, or rather saying by rote, with sonorous rolling voice, great passages from some chorus, and she was very thankful to the bishop, who had sent over to them a message and messenger which had been so salutary in their effect upon her husband. 'In truth an angel of the church,' she said to herself as she chopped up the onions for the mutton-broth; and ever afterwards she regarded Mr Thumble as an 'angel'.
