CHAPTER XII

Slope versus Harding

Two or three days after the party, Mr. Harding received a note

begging him to call on Mr. Slope, at the palace, at an early hour on

the following morning. There was nothing uncivil in the communication,

and yet the tone of it was thoroughly displeasing. It was as follows:

MY DEAR MR. HARDING,

Will you favour me by calling on me at the palace to-morrow

morning at 9:30 A.M. The bishop wishes me to speak to you

touching the hospital. I hope you will excuse my naming so

early an hour. I do so as my time is greatly occupied. If,

however, it is positively inconvenient to you, I will change

it to 10. You will, perhaps, be kind enough to let me have a

note in reply.

Believe me to be,

My dear Mr. Harding,

Your assured friend,

OBH. SLOPE

The Palace, Monday morning,

20th August, 185--

Mr. Harding neither could nor would believe anything of the sort, and

he thought, moreover, that Mr. Slope was rather impertinent to call

himself by such a name. His assured friend, indeed! How many assured

friends generally fall to the lot of a man in this world? And by what

process are they made? And how much of such process had taken place

as yet between Mr. Harding and Mr. Slope? Mr. Harding could not help

asking himself these questions as he read and re-read the note before

him. He answered it, however, as follows:

DEAR SIR,

I will call at the palace to-morrow at 9:30 A.M. as you

desire.

Truly yours,

S. HARDING

High Street, Barchester, Monday

And on the following morning, punctually at half-past nine, he knocked

at the palace door and asked for Mr. Slope.

The bishop had one small room allotted to him on the ground-floor,

and Mr. Slope had another. Into this latter Mr. Harding was shown

and asked to sit down. Mr. Slope was not yet there. The ex-warden

stood up at the window looking into the garden, and could not help

thinking how very short a time had passed since the whole of that

house had been open to him, as though he had been a child of the

family, born and bred in it. He remembered how the old servants used

to smile as they opened the door to him; how the familiar butler

would say, when he had been absent a few hours longer than usual,

"A sight of you, Mr. Harding, is good for sore eyes;" how the fussy

housekeeper would swear that he couldn't have dined, or couldn't

have breakfasted, or couldn't have lunched. And then, above all, he

remembered the pleasant gleam of inward satisfaction which always

spread itself over the old bishop's face whenever his friend entered

his room.

A tear came into each eye as he reflected that all this was gone.

What use would the hospital be to him now? He was alone in the world,

and getting old; he would soon, very soon have to go and leave it all,

as his dear old friend had gone; go, and leave the hospital, and his

accustomed place in the cathedral, and his haunts and pleasures, to

younger and perhaps wiser men. That chanting of his! Perhaps, in truth,

the time for it was gone by. He felt as though the world were sinking

from his feet; as though this, this was the time for him to turn with

confidence to those hopes which he had preached with confidence to

others. "What," said he to himself, "can a man's religion be worth if

it does not support him against the natural melancholy of declining

years?" And as he looked out through his dimmed eyes into the bright

parterres of the bishop's garden, he felt that he had the support

which he wanted.

Nevertheless, he did not like to be thus kept waiting. If Mr. Slope

did not really wish to see him at half-past nine o'clock, why force

him to come away from his lodgings with his breakfast in his throat?

To tell the truth, it was policy on the part of Mr. Slope. Mr. Slope

had made up his mind that Mr. Harding should either accept the

hospital with abject submission, or else refuse it altogether, and

had calculated that he would probably be more quick to do the latter,

if he could be got to enter upon the subject in an ill-humour.

Perhaps Mr. Slope was not altogether wrong in his calculation.

It was nearly ten when Mr. Slope hurried into the room and, muttering

something about the bishop and diocesan duties, shook Mr. Harding's

hand ruthlessly and begged him to be seated.

Now the air of superiority which this man assumed did go against the

grain with Mr. Harding, and yet he did not know how to resent it.

The whole tendency of his mind and disposition was opposed to any

contra-assumption of grandeur on his own part, and he hadn't the

worldly spirit or quickness necessary to put down insolent pretensions

by downright and open rebuke, as the archdeacon would have done. There

was nothing for Mr. Harding but to submit, and he accordingly did so.

"About the hospital, Mr. Harding?" began Mr. Slope, speaking of it

as the head of a college at Cambridge might speak of some sizarship

which had to be disposed of.

Mr. Harding crossed one leg over another, and then one hand over the

other on the top of them, and looked Mr. Slope in the face; but he

said nothing.

"It's to be filled up again," said Mr. Slope. Mr. Harding said that

he had understood so.

"Of course, you know, the income will be very much reduced," continued

Mr. Slope. "The bishop wished to be liberal, and he therefore told the

government that he thought it ought to be put at not less than £450.

I think on the whole the bishop was right, for though the services

required will not be of a very onerous nature, they will be more

so than they were before. And it is, perhaps, well that the clergy

immediately attached to the cathedral town should be made as

comfortable as the extent of the ecclesiastical means at our disposal

will allow. Those are the bishop's ideas, and I must say mine also."

Mr. Harding sat rubbing one hand on the other, but said not a word.

"So much for the income, Mr. Harding. The house will, of course,

remain to the warden, as before. It should, however, I think, be

stipulated that he should paint inside every seven years, and outside

every three years, and be subject to dilapidations, in the event

of vacating, either by death or otherwise. But this is a matter on

which the bishop must yet be consulted."

Mr. Harding still rubbed his hands and still sat silent, gazing up

into Mr. Slope's unprepossessing face.

"Then, as to the duties," continued he, "I believe, if I am rightly

informed, there can hardly be said to have been any duties hitherto,"

and he gave a sort of half-laugh, as though to pass off the

accusation in the guise of a pleasantry.

Mr. Harding thought of the happy, easy years he had passed in his old

home; of the worn-out, aged men whom he had succoured; of his good

intentions; and of his work, which had certainly been of the lightest.

He thought of these things, doubting for a moment whether he did or did

not deserve the sarcasm. He gave his enemy the benefit of the doubt,

and did not rebuke him. He merely observed, very tranquilly, and

perhaps with too much humility, that the duties of the situation, such

as they were, had, he believed, been done to the satisfaction of the

late bishop.

Mr. Slope again smiled, and this time the smile was intended to

operate against the memory of the late bishop rather than against the

energy of the ex-warden; so it was understood by Mr. Harding. The

colour rose to his cheeks, and he began to feel very angry.

"You must be aware, Mr. Harding, that things are a good deal changed

in Barchester," said Mr. Slope.

Mr. Harding said that he was aware of it. "And not only in

Barchester, Mr. Harding, but in the world at large. It is not only

in Barchester that a new man is carrying out new measures and casting

away the useless rubbish of past centuries. The same thing is going

on throughout the country. Work is now required from every man who

receives wages, and they who have to superintend the doing of work,

and the paying of wages, are bound to see that this rule is carried

out. New men, Mr. Harding, are now needed and are now forthcoming in

the church, as well as in other professions."

All this was wormwood to our old friend. He had never rated very

high his own abilities or activity, but all the feelings of his heart

were with the old clergy, and any antipathies of which his heart was

susceptible were directed against those new, busy, uncharitable,

self-lauding men, of whom Mr. Slope was so good an example.

"Perhaps," said he, "the bishop will prefer a new man at the

hospital?"

"By no means," said Mr. Slope. "The bishop is very anxious that you

should accept the appointment, but he wishes you should understand

beforehand what will be the required duties. In the first place, a

Sabbath-day school will be attached to the hospital."

"What! For the old men?" asked Mr. Harding.

"No, Mr. Harding, not for the old men, but for the benefit of the

children of such of the poor of Barchester as it may suit. The

bishop will expect that you shall attend this school, and that the

teachers shall be under your inspection and care."

Mr. Harding slipped his topmost hand off the other and began to rub

the calf of the leg which was supported.

"As to the old men," continued Mr. Slope, "and the old women who are

to form a part of the hospital, the bishop is desirous that you shall

have morning and evening service on the premises every Sabbath, and

one weekday service; that you shall preach to them once at least on

Sundays; and that the whole hospital be always collected for morning

and evening prayer. The bishop thinks that this will render it

unnecessary that any separate seats in the cathedral should be

reserved for the hospital inmates."

Mr. Slope paused, but Mr. Harding still said nothing.

"Indeed, it would be difficult to find seats for the women; on the

whole, Mr. Harding, I may as well say at once, that for people of

that class the cathedral service does not appear to me the most

useful--even if it be so for any class of people."

"We will not discuss that, if you please," said Mr. Harding.

"I am not desirous of doing so; at least, not at the present moment.

I hope, however, you fully understand the bishop's wishes about the

new establishment of the hospital; and if, as I do not doubt, I shall

receive from you an assurance that you accord with his lordship's

views, it will give me very great pleasure to be the bearer from his

lordship to you of the presentation to the appointment."

"But if I disagree with his lordship's views?" asked Mr. Harding.

"But I hope you do not," said Mr. Slope.

"But if I do?" again asked the other.

"If such unfortunately should be the case, which I can hardly

conceive, I presume your own feelings will dictate to you the

propriety of declining the appointment."

"But if I accept the appointment and yet disagree with the bishop,

what then?"

This question rather bothered Mr. Slope. It was true that he had

talked the matter over with the bishop and had received a sort of

authority for suggesting to Mr. Harding the propriety of a Sunday

school and certain hospital services, but he had no authority for

saying that these propositions were to be made peremptory conditions

attached to the appointment. The bishop's idea had been that Mr.

Harding would of course consent and that the school would become,

like the rest of those new establishments in the city, under the

control of his wife and his chaplain. Mr. Slope's idea had been more

correct. He intended that Mr. Harding should refuse the situation,

and that an ally of his own should get it, but he had not conceived

the possibility of Mr. Harding openly accepting the appointment and

as openly rejecting the conditions.

"It is not, I presume, probable," said he, "that you will accept

from the hands of the bishop a piece of preferment with a fixed

predetermination to disacknowledge the duties attached to it."

"If I become warden," said Mr. Harding, "and neglect my duty, the

bishop has means by which he can remedy the grievance."

"I hardly expected such an argument from you, or I may say the

suggestion of such a line of conduct," said Mr. Slope with a great

look of injured virtue.

"Nor did I expect such a proposition."

"I shall be glad at any rate to know what answer I am to make to his

lordship," said Mr. Slope.

"I will take an early opportunity of seeing his lordship myself,"

said Mr. Harding.

"Such an arrangement," said Mr. Slope, "will hardly give his lordship

satisfaction. Indeed, it is impossible that the bishop should

himself see every clergyman in the diocese on every subject of

patronage that may arise. The bishop, I believe, did see you on the

matter, and I really cannot see why he should be troubled to do so

again."

"Do you know, Mr. Slope, how long I have been officiating as a

clergyman in this city?" Mr. Slope's wish was now nearly fulfilled.

Mr. Harding had become angry, and it was probable that he might

commit himself.

"I really do not see what that has to do with the question. You

cannot think the bishop would be justified in allowing you to regard

as a sinecure a situation that requires an active, man merely because

you have been employed for many years in the cathedral."

"But it might induce the bishop to see me, if I asked him to do so.

I shall consult my friends in this matter, Mr. Slope; but I mean

to be guilty of no subterfuge--you may tell the bishop that as I

altogether disagree with his views about the hospital, I shall

decline the situation if I find that any such conditions are attached

to it as those you have suggested;" and so saying, Mr. Harding took

his hat and went his way.

Mr. Slope was contented. He considered himself at liberty to accept

Mr. Harding's last speech as an absolute refusal of the appointment.

At least, he so represented it to the bishop and to Mrs. Proudie.

"That is very surprising," said the bishop.

"Not at all," said Mrs. Proudie; "you little know how determined the

whole set of them are to withstand your authority."

"But Mr. Harding was so anxious for it," said the bishop.

"Yes," said Mr. Slope, "if he can hold it without the slightest

acknowledgement of your lordship's jurisdiction."

"That is out of the question," said the bishop.

"I should imagine it to be quite so," said the chaplain.

"Indeed, I should think so," said the lady.

"I really am sorry for it," said the bishop.

"I don't know that there is much cause for sorrow," said the lady.

"Mr. Quiverful is a much more deserving man, more in need of it, and

one who will make himself much more useful in the close neighbourhood

of the palace."

"I suppose I had better see Quiverful?" said the chaplain.

"I suppose you had," said the bishop.