Old Likeman began to speak and had a fit of coughing. "Some of
these texts--whuff, whuff--like a conjuror's hat--whuff--
make 'em--fit anything."
A man-servant appeared and handed a silver box of lozenges into
which the old
bishop dipped with a trembling hand.
"Tricks of that sort," he said, "won't do, Scrope--among
professionals.
"And besides," he was inspired; "true religion is old wine--
as old as the soul.
"You are a
bishop in the Church of Christ on Earth," he summed
it up. "And you want to become a detached and wandering Ancient
Mariner from your
shipwreck of faith with something to explain--
that nobody wants to hear. You are going out I suppose you have
means?"
The old man awaited the answer to his
abrupt enquiry with a
handful of lozenges.
"No," said the Bishop of Princhester, "practically--I
haven't."
"My dear boy!" it was as if they were once more
rector and
curate. "My dear brother! do you know what the value of an
ex-
bishop is in the ordinary labour market?"
"I have never thought of that."
"Evidently. You have a wife and children?"
"Five daughters."
"And your wife married you--I remember, she married you soon
after you got that living in St. John's Wood. I suppose she took
it for granted that you were fixed in an
ecclesiastical career.
That was implicit in the transaction."
"I haven't looked very much at that side of the matter yet,"
said the Bishop of Princhester.
"It shouldn't be a
decisive factor," said Bishop Likeman, "not
decisive. But it will weigh. It should weigh...."
The old man opened out fresh
aspects of the case. His argument
was for delay, for
deliberation. He went on to a wider set of
considerations. A man who has held the position of a
bishop for
some years is, he held, no longer a free man in matters of
opinion. He has become an official part of a great
edifice which
supports the faith of multitudes of simple and dependant
believers. He has no right to
indulge recklessly in intellectual
and moral integrities. He may understand, but how is the flock to
understand? He may get his own soul clear, but what will happen
to them? He will just break away their supports,
astonish them,
puzzle them,
distress them,
deprive them of confidence, convince
them of nothing.
"Intellectual egotism may be as grave a sin," said Bishop
Likeman, "as
physical selfishness.
"Assuming even that you are
absolutely right," said Bishop
Likeman, "aren't you still rather in the position of a man who
insists upon Swedish exercises and a strengthening dietary on a
raft?"
"I think you have made out a case for delay," said his hearer.
"Three months."
The Bishop of Princhester conceded three months.
"Including every sort of service. Because, after all, even
supposing it is damnable to repeat prayers and creeds you do not
believe in, and
administer sacraments you think superstition,
nobody can be
damned but yourself. On the other hand if you
express doubts that are not yet
perfectly digested--you
experiment with the souls of others...."
(5)
The
bishop found much to
ponder in his old friend's counsels.
They were discursive and many-fronted, and
whenever he seemed to
be penetrating or defeating the particular
considerations under
examination the others in the
background had a way of appearing
invincible. He had a strong
persuasion that Likeman was wrong--
and unanswerable. And the true God now was no more than the
memory of a very
vividly realized idea. It was clear to the
bishop that he was no longer a
churchman or in the generally
accepted sense of the word a Christian, and that he was bound to
come out of the church. But all sense of urgency had gone. It was
a matter demanding
deliberation and very great
consideration for
others.
He took no more of Dale's stuff because he felt
bodily sound
and slept well. And he was now a little shy of this
potent fluid.
He went down to Princhester the next day, for his
compromise of