CHAPTER VII

The Dean and Chapter Take Counsel

All Barchester was in a tumult. Dr. Grantly could hardly get himself

out of the cathedral porch before he exploded in his wrath. The

old dean betook himself silently to his deanery, afraid to speak,

and there sat, half-stupefied, pondering many things in vain. Mr.

Harding crept forth solitary and unhappy; and, slowly passing beneath

the elms of the close, could scarcely bring himself to believe

that the words which he had heard had proceeded from the pulpit of

Barchester cathedral. Was he again to be disturbed? Was his whole

life to be shown up as a useless sham a second time? Would he have

to abdicate his precentorship, as he had his wardenship, and to give

up chanting, as he had given up his twelve old bedesmen? And what

if he did! Some other Jupiter, some other Mr. Slope, would come

and turn him out of St. Cuthbert's. Surely he could not have been

wrong all his life in chanting the litany as he had done! He began,

however, to have his doubts. Doubting himself was Mr. Harding's

weakness. It is not, however, the usual fault of his order.

Yes! All Barchester was in a tumult. It was not only the clergy

who were affected. The laity also had listened to Mr. Slope's new

doctrine, all with surprise, some with indignation, and some with a

mixed feeling, in which dislike of the preacher was not so strongly

blended. The old bishop and his chaplains, the dean and his canons

and minor canons, the old choir, and especially Mr. Harding who was

at the head of it, had all been popular in Barchester. They had

spent their money and done good; the poor had not been ground down;

the clergy in society had neither been overbearing nor austere;

and the whole repute of the city was due to its ecclesiastical

importance. Yet there were those who had heard Mr. Slope with

satisfaction.

It is so pleasant to receive a fillip of excitement when suffering

from the dull routine of everyday life! The anthems and Te Deums

were in themselves delightful, but they had been heard so often! Mr.

Slope was certainly not delightful, but he was new, and, moreover,

clever. They had long thought it slow, so said now many of the

Barchesterians, to go on as they had done in their old humdrum way,

giving ear to none of the religious changes which were moving the

world without. People in advance of the age now had new ideas, and

it was quite time that Barchester should go in advance. Mr. Slope

might be right. Sunday had certainly not been strictly kept in

Barchester, except as regarded the cathedral services. Indeed the

two hours between services had long been appropriated to morning

calls and hot luncheons. Then, Sunday-schools! Really more ought

to have been done as to Sunday-schools--Sabbath-day schools Mr.

Slope had called them. The late bishop had really not thought of

Sunday-schools as he should have done. (These people probably did not

reflect that catechisms and collects are quite as hard work to the

young mind as bookkeeping is to the elderly, and that quite as little

feeling of worship enters into the one task as the other.) And then,

as regarded that great question of musical services, there might be

much to be said on Mr. Slope's side of the question. It certainly

was the fact that people went to the cathedral to hear the music, &c.

&c

And so a party absolutely formed itself in Barchester on Mr. Slope's

side of the question! This consisted, among the upper classes,

chiefly of ladies. No man--that is, no gentleman--could possibly be

attracted by Mr. Slope, or consent to sit at the feet of so abhorrent

a Gamaliel. Ladies are sometimes less nice in their appreciation of

physical disqualification; provided that a man speak to them well,

they will listen, though he speak from a mouth never so deformed

and hideous. Wilkes was most fortunate as a lover, and the damp,

sandy-haired, saucer-eyed, red-fisted Mr. Slope was powerful only

over the female breast.

There were, however, one or two of the neighbouring clergy who

thought it not quite safe to neglect the baskets in which for the

nonce were stored the loaves and fishes of the diocese of Barchester.

They, and they only, came to call on Mr. Slope after his performance

in the cathedral pulpit. Among these Mr. Quiverful, the rector of

Puddingdale, whose wife still continued to present him from year to

year with fresh pledges of her love, and so to increase his cares

and, it is to be hoped, his happiness equally. Who can wonder that

a gentleman with fourteen living children and a bare income of £400

a year should look after the loaves and fishes, even when they are

under the thumb of a Mr. Slope?

Very soon after the Sunday on which the sermon was preached, the

leading clergy of the neighbourhood held high debate together as

to how Mr. Slope should be put down. In the first place, he should

never again preach from the pulpit of Barchester cathedral. This was

Dr. Grantly's earliest dictum, and they all agreed, providing only

that they had the power to exclude him. Dr. Grantly declared that

the power rested with the dean and chapter, observing that no

clergyman out of the chapter had a claim to preach there, saving

only the bishop himself. To this the dean assented, but alleged that

contests on such a subject would be unseemly; to which rejoined a

meagre little doctor, one of the cathedral prebendaries, that the

contest must be all on the side of Mr. Slope if every prebendary

were always there ready to take his own place in the pulpit. Cunning

little meagre doctor, whom it suits well to live in his own cosy

house within Barchester close, and who is well content to have his

little fling at Dr. Vesey Stanhope and other absentees, whose Italian

villas, or enticing London homes, are more tempting than cathedral

stalls and residences!

To this answered the burly chancellor, a man rather silent indeed,

but very sensible, that absent prebendaries had their vicars, and

that in such case the vicar's right to the pulpit was the same as

that of the higher order. To which the dean assented, groaning

deeply at these truths. Thereupon, however, the meagre doctor

remarked that they would be in the hands of their minor canons, one

of whom might at any hour betray his trust. Whereon was heard from

the burly chancellor an ejaculation sounding somewhat like "Pooh,

pooh, pooh!" but it might be that the worthy man was but blowing

out the heavy breath from his windpipe. Why silence him at all?

suggested Mr. Harding. Let them not be ashamed to hear what any man

might have to preach to them, unless he preached false doctrine; in

which case, let the bishop silence him. So spoke our friend; vainly;

for human ends must be attained by human means. But the dean saw a

ray of hope out of those purblind old eyes of his. Yes, let them

tell the bishop how distasteful to them was this Mr. Slope: a new

bishop just come to his seat could not wish to insult his clergy

while the gloss was yet fresh on his first apron.

Then up rose Dr. Grantly and, having thus collected the scattered

wisdom of his associates, spoke forth with words of deep authority.

When I say up rose the archdeacon, I speak of the inner man, which

then sprang up to more immediate action, for the doctor had bodily

been standing all along with his back to the dean's empty fire-grate,

and the tails of his frock coat supported over his two arms. His

hands were in his breeches pockets.

"It is quite clear that this man must not be allowed to preach again

in this cathedral. We all see that, except our dear friend here, the

milk of whose nature runs so softly that he would not have the heart

to refuse the Pope the loan of his pulpit, if the Pope would come

and ask it. We must not, however, allow the man to preach again here.

It is not because his opinion on church matters may be different

from ours--with that one would not quarrel. It is because he has

purposely insulted us. When he went up into that pulpit last Sunday,

his studied object was to give offence to men who had grown old in

reverence of those things of which he dared to speak so slightingly.

What! To come here a stranger, a young, unknown, and unfriended

stranger, and tell us, in the name of the bishop his master, that we

are ignorant of our duties, old-fashioned, and useless! I don't know

whether most to admire his courage or his impudence! And one thing

I will tell you: that sermon originated solely with the man himself.

The bishop was no more a party to it than was the dean here. You

all know how grieved I am to see a bishop in this diocese holding

the latitudinarian ideas by which Dr. Proudie has made himself

conspicuous. You all know how greatly I should distrust the opinion

of such a man. But in this matter I hold him to be blameless. I

believe Dr. Proudie has lived too long among gentlemen to be guilty,

or to instigate another to be guilty, of so gross an outrage. No!

That man uttered what was untrue when he hinted that he was speaking

as the mouthpiece of the bishop. It suited his ambitious views at

once to throw down the gauntlet to us--at once to defy us here in the

quiet of our own religious duties--here within the walls of our own

loved cathedral--here where we have for so many years exercised our

ministry without schism and with good repute. Such an attack upon

us, coming from such a quarter, is abominable."

"Abominable," groaned the dean. "Abominable," muttered the meagre

doctor. "Abominable," re-echoed the chancellor, uttering the sound

from the bottom of his deep chest. "I really think it was," said Mr.

Harding.

"Most abominable and most unjustifiable," continued the archdeacon.

"But, Mr. Dean, thank God, that pulpit is still our own: your own,

I should say. That pulpit belongs solely to the dean and chapter

of Barchester Cathedral, and as yet Mr. Slope is no part of that

chapter. You, Mr. Dean, have suggested that we should appeal to

the bishop to abstain from forcing this man on us; but what if the

bishop allow himself to be ruled by his chaplain? In my opinion the

matter is in our own hands. Mr. Slope cannot preach there without

permission asked and obtained, and let that permission be invariably

refused. Let all participation in the ministry of the cathedral

service be refused to him. Then, if the bishop choose to interfere,

we shall know what answer to make to the bishop. My friend here has

suggested that this man may again find his way into the pulpit by

undertaking the duty of some of your minor canons, but I am sure that

we may fully trust to these gentlemen to support us, when it is known

that the dean objects to any such transfer."

"Of course you may," said the chancellor.

There was much more discussion among the learned conclave, all of

which, of course, ended in obedience to the archdeacon's commands.

They had too long been accustomed to his rule to shake it off so

soon, and in this particular case they had none of them a wish to

abet the man whom he was so anxious to put down.

Such a meeting as that we have just recorded is not held in such

a city as Barchester unknown and untold of. Not only was the fact

of the meeting talked of in every respectable house, including

the palace, but the very speeches of the dean, the archdeacon, and

chancellor were repeated; not without many additions and imaginary

circumstances, according to the tastes and opinions of the relaters.

All, however, agreed in saying that Mr. Slope was to be debarred from

opening his mouth in the cathedral of Barchester; many believed that

the vergers were to be ordered to refuse him even the accommodation

of a seat; and some of the most far-going advocates for strong

measures declared that his sermon was looked upon as an indictable

offence, and that proceedings were to be taken against him for

brawling.

The party who were inclined to defend him--the enthusiastically

religious young ladies and the middle-aged spinsters desirous of a

move--of course took up his defence the more warmly on account of

this attack. If they could not hear Mr. Slope in the cathedral, they

would hear him elsewhere; they would leave the dull dean, the dull

old prebendaries, and the scarcely less dull young minor canons to

preach to each other; they would work slippers and cushions and

hem bands for Mr. Slope, make him a happy martyr, and stick him up

in some new Sion or Bethesda, and put the cathedral quite out of

fashion.

Dr. and Mrs. Proudie at once returned to London. They thought it

expedient not to have to encounter any personal application from the

dean and chapter respecting the sermon till the violence of the storm

had expended itself; but they left Mr. Slope behind them nothing

daunted, and he went about his work zealously, flattering such as

would listen to his flattery, whispering religious twaddle into the

ears of foolish women, ingratiating himself with the few clergy who

would receive him, visiting the houses of the poor, inquiring into

all people, prying into everything, and searching with his minutest

eye into all palatial dilapidations. He did not, however, make any

immediate attempt to preach again in the cathedral.

And so all Barchester was by the ears.