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The Warden-Part27_Antony Trollope(1815-1882)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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and he did not now wish to consult with anyone as to the great

step which he had determined to take. As he had said to his



daughter, no one knows where the shoe pinches but the wearer.

There are some points on which no man can be contented to



follow the advice of another--some subjects on which a man

can consult his own conscience only. Our warden had made



up his mind that it was good for him at any cost to get rid of

this grievance; his daughter was the only person whose



concurrence appeared necessary to him, and she did concur with

him most heartily. Under such circumstances he would not,



if he could help it, consult anyone further, till advice would be

useless. Should the archdeacon catch him, indeed, there



would be much advice, and much consultation of a kind not

to be avoided; but he hoped better things; and as he felt that



he could not now converse on indifferent subjects, he resolved

to see no one till after his interview with the attorney-general.



He determined to take sanctuary in Westminster Abbey, so

he again went thither in an omnibus, and finding that the



doors were not open for morning service, he paid his twopence,

and went in as a sightseer. It occurred to him that he had no



definite place of rest for the day, and that he should be

absolutely worn out before his interview if he attempted to walk



about from 10 A.M. to 10 P.M., so he sat himself down on a

stone step, and gazed up at the figure of William Pitt, who



looks as though he had just entered the church for the first

time in his life and was anything but pleased at finding



himself there.

He had been sitting unmolested about twenty minutes when



the verger asked him whether he wouldn't like to walk round.

Mr Harding didn't want to walk anywhere, and declined,



merely observing that he was waiting for the morning service.

The verger, seeing that he was a clergyman, told him that the



doors of the choir were now open, and showed him into a seat.

This was a great point gained; the archdeacon would certainly



not come to morning service at Westminster Abbey, even

though he were in London; and here the warden could rest



quietly, and, when the time came, duly say his prayers.

He longed to get up from his seat, and examine the music-



books of the choristers, and the copy of the litany from which

the service was chanted, to see how far the little details at



Westminster corresponded with those at Barchester, and

whether he thought his own voice would fill the church well



from the Westminster precentor's seat. There would, however,

be impropriety in such meddling, and he sat perfectly



still, looking up at the noble roof, and guarding against the

coming fatigues of the day.



By degrees two or three people entered; the very same

damp old woman who had nearly obliterated him in the



omnibus, or some other just like her; a couple of young ladies

with their veils down, and gilt crosses conspicuous on their



prayer-books; an old man on crutches; a party who were

seeing the abbey, and thought they might as well hear the



service for their twopence, as opportunity served; and a young

woman with her prayer-book done up in her handkerchief,



who rushed in late, and, in her hurried entry, tumbled over

one of the forms, and made such a noise that everyone, even



the officiating minor canon, was startled, and she herself was

so frightened by the echo of her own catastrophe that she was



nearly thrown into fits by the panic.

Mr Harding was not much edified by the manner of the



service. The minor canon in question hurried in, somewhat

late, in a surplice not in the neatest order, and was followed by



a dozen choristers, who were also not as trim as they might

have been: they all jostled into their places with a quick



hurried step, and the service was soon commenced. Soon

commenced and soon over--for there was no music, and time



was not unnecessarily lost in the chanting. On the whole

Mr Harding was of opinion that things were managed better



at Barchester, though even there he knew that there was room

for improvement.



It appears to us a question whether any clergyman can go

through our church service with decorum, morning after morning,



in an immense building, surrounded by not more than a

dozen listeners. The best actors cannot act well before empty



benches, and though there is, of course, a higher motive in one

case than the other, still even the best of clergymen cannot but






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