Framley Parsonage: Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Mr. Harold Smith's Lecture

On the whole the party at Chaldicotes was very pleasant, and the
time passed away quickly enough. Mr. Robarts's chief friend there,
independently of Mr. Sowerby, was Miss Dunstable, who seemed to
take a great fancy to him, whereas she was not very accessible to
the blandishments of Mr. Supplehouse, nor more specially courteous
even to her host than good manners required of her. But then Mr.
Supplehouse and Mr. Sowerby were both bachelors, while Mark Robarts
was a married man. With Mr. Sowerby Robarts had more than one
communication respecting Lord Lufton and his affairs, which he would
willingly have avoided had it been possible. Sowerby was one of those
men who are always mixing up business with pleasure, and who have
usually some scheme in their mind which requires forwarding. Men of
this class have, as a rule, no daily work, no regular routine of
labour; but it may be doubted whether they do not toil much more
incessantly than those who have.

"Lufton is so dilatory," Mr. Sowerby said. "Why did he not arrange
this at once, when he promised it? And then he is so afraid of that
old woman at Framley Court. Well, my dear fellow, say what you will;
she is an old woman, and she'll never be younger. But do write to
Lufton, and tell him that this delay is inconvenient to me; he'll
do anything for you, I know." Mark said that he would write, and,
indeed, did do so; but he did not at first like the tone of the
conversation into which he was dragged. It was very painful to him to
hear Lady Lufton called an old woman, and hardly less so to discuss
the propriety of Lord Lufton's parting with his property. This was
irksome to him, till habit made it easy. But by degrees his feelings
became less acute, and he accustomed himself to his friend Sowerby's
mode of talking.

And then on Saturday afternoon they all went over to Barchester.
Harold Smith during the last forty-eight hours had become crammed
to overflowing with Sarawak, Labuan, New Guinea, and the Salomon
Islands. As is the case with all men labouring under temporary
specialities, he for the time had faith in nothing else, and was
not content that any one near him should have any other faith. They
called him Viscount Papua and Baron Borneo; and his wife, who headed
the joke against him, insisted on having her title. Miss Dunstable
swore that she would wed none but a South Sea islander; and to Mark
was offered the income and duties of Bishop of Spices. Nor did the
Proudie family set themselves against these little sarcastic quips
with any overwhelming severity. It is sweet to unbend oneself at the
proper opportunity, and this was the proper opportunity for Mrs.
Proudie's unbending. No mortal can be seriously wise at all hours;
and in these happy hours did that usually wise mortal, the bishop,
lay aside for awhile his serious wisdom.

"We think of dining at five to-morrow, my Lady Papua," said the
facetious bishop; "will that suit his lordship and the affairs of
State? he! he! he!" And the good prelate laughed at the fun. How
pleasantly young men and women of fifty or thereabouts can joke and
flirt and poke their fun about, laughing and holding their sides,
dealing in little innuendoes and rejoicing in nicknames, when they
have no Mentors of twenty-five or thirty near them to keep them in
order! The vicar of Framley might perhaps have been regarded as such
a Mentor, were it not for that capability of adapting himself to the
company immediately around him on which he so much piqued himself.
He therefore also talked to my Lady Papua, and was jocose about
the Baron,--not altogether to the satisfaction of Mr. Harold Smith
himself. For Mr. Harold Smith was in earnest, and did not quite
relish these jocundities. He had an idea that he could in about three
months talk the British world into civilizing New Guinea, and that
the world of Barsetshire would be made to go with him by one night's
efforts. He did not understand why others should be less serious, and
was inclined to resent somewhat stiffly the amenities of our friend
Mark.

"We must not keep the Baron waiting," said Mark, as they were
preparing to start for Barchester.

"I don't know what you mean by the Baron, sir," said Harold Smith.
"But perhaps the joke will be against you, when you are getting up
into your pulpit to-morrow, and sending the hat round among the
clod-hoppers of Chaldicotes."

"Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones; eh, Baron?"
said Miss Dunstable. "Mr. Robarts's sermon will be too near akin to
your lecture to allow of his laughing."

"If we can do nothing towards instructing the outer world till it's
done by the parsons," said Harold Smith, "the outer world will have
to wait a long time, I fear."

"Nobody can do anything of that kind short of a member of Parliament
and a would-be minister," whispered Mrs. Harold. And so they were all
very pleasant together, in spite of a little fencing with edge-tools;
and at three o'clock the _cort�ge_ of carriages started for
Barchester, that of the bishop, of course, leading the way. His
lordship, however, was not in it.

"Mrs. Proudie, I'm sure you'll let me go with you," said Miss
Dunstable, at the last moment, as she came down the big stone steps.
"I want to hear the rest of that story about Mr. Slope." Now this
upset everything. The bishop was to have gone with his wife, Mrs.
Smith, and Mark Robarts; and Mr. Sowerby had so arranged matters that
he could have accompanied Miss Dunstable in his phaeton. But no one
ever dreamed of denying Miss Dunstable anything. Of course Mark gave
way; but it ended in the bishop declaring that he had no special
predilection for his own carriage, which he did in compliance with
a glance from his wife's eye. Then other changes of course followed,
and, at last, Mr. Sowerby and Harold Smith were the joint occupants
of the phaeton. The poor lecturer, as he seated himself, made some
remark such as those he had been making for the last two days--for
out of a full heart the mouth speaketh. But he spoke to an impatient
listener. "D---- the South Sea islanders," said Mr. Sowerby.
"You'll have it all your own way in a few minutes, like a bull in a
china-shop; but for Heaven's sake let us have a little peace till
that time comes." It appeared that Mr. Sowerby's little plan of
having Miss Dunstable for his companion was not quite insignificant;
and, indeed, it may be said that but few of his little plans were
so. At the present moment he flung himself back in the carriage
and prepared for sleep. He could further no plan of his by a
_t�te-�-t�te_ conversation with his brother-in-law. And then Mrs.
Proudie began her story about Mr. Slope, or rather recommenced it.
She was very fond of talking about this gentleman, who had once been
her pet chaplain, but was now her bitterest foe; and in telling the
story, she had sometimes to whisper to Miss Dunstable, for there
were one or two fie-fie little anecdotes about a married lady, not
altogether fit for young Mr. Robarts's ears. But Mrs. Harold Smith
insisted on having them out loud, and Miss Dunstable would gratify
that lady in spite of Mrs. Proudie's winks.

"What, kissing her hand, and he a clergyman!" said Miss Dunstable.
"I did not think they ever did such things, Mr. Robarts."

"Still waters run deepest," said Mrs. Harold Smith.

"Hush-h-h," looked, rather than spoke, Mrs. Proudie. "The grief
of spirit which that bad man caused me nearly broke my heart, and
all the while, you know, he was courting--" and then Mrs. Proudie
whispered a name.

"What, the dean's wife!" shouted Miss Dunstable, in a voice which
made the coachman of the next carriage give a chuck to his horses as
he overheard her.

"The archdeacon's sister-in-law!" screamed Mrs. Harold Smith.

"What might he not have attempted next?" said Miss Dunstable.

"She wasn't the dean's wife then, you know," said Mrs. Proudie,
explaining.

"Well, you've a gay set in the chapter, I must say," said Miss
Dunstable. "You ought to make one of them in Barchester, Mr.
Robarts."

"Only perhaps Mrs. Robarts might not like it," said Mrs. Harold
Smith.

"And then the schemes which he tried on with the bishop!" said Mrs.
Proudie.

"It's all fair in love and war, you know," said Miss Dunstable.

"But he little knew whom he had to deal with when he began that,"
said Mrs. Proudie.

"The bishop was too many for him," suggested Mrs. Harold Smith, very
maliciously.

"If the bishop was not, somebody else was; and he was obliged to
leave Barchester in utter disgrace. He has since married the wife of
some tallow-chandler."

"The wife!" said Miss Dunstable. "What a man!"

"Widow, I mean; but it's all one to him."

"The gentleman was clearly born when Venus was in the ascendant,"
said Mrs. Smith. "You clergymen usually are, I believe, Mr. Robarts."
So that Mrs. Proudie's carriage was by no means the dullest as they
drove into Barchester that day; and by degrees our friend Mark became
accustomed to his companions, and before they reached the palace he
acknowledged to himself that Miss Dunstable was very good fun. We
cannot linger over the bishop's dinner, though it was very good of
its kind; and as Mr. Sowerby contrived to sit next to Miss Dunstable,
thereby overturning a little scheme made by Mr. Supplehouse, he again
shone forth in unclouded good humour. But Mr. Harold Smith became
impatient immediately on the withdrawal of the cloth. The lecture was
to begin at seven, and according to his watch that hour had already
come. He declared that Sowerby and Supplehouse were endeavouring to
delay matters in order that the Barchesterians might become vexed
and impatient; and so the bishop was not allowed to exercise his
hospitality in true episcopal fashion.

"You forget, Sowerby," said Supplehouse, "that the world here for the
last fortnight has been looking forward to nothing else."

"The world shall be gratified at once," said Mrs. Harold, obeying a
little nod from Mrs. Proudie. "Come, my dear," and she took hold of
Miss Dunstable's arm, "don't let us keep Barchester waiting. We shall
be ready in a quarter of an hour, shall we not, Mrs. Proudie?" and so
they sailed off.

"And we shall have time for one glass of claret," said the bishop.

"There; that's seven by the cathedral," said Harold Smith, jumping
up from his chair as he heard the clock. "If the people have come it
would not be right in me to keep them waiting, and I shall go."

"Just one glass of claret, Mr. Smith, and we'll be off," said the
bishop.

"Those women will keep me an hour," said Harold, filling his glass,
and drinking it standing. "They do it on purpose," He was thinking
of his wife, but it seemed to the bishop as though his guest were
actually speaking of Mrs. Proudie.

It was rather late when they all found themselves in the big room of
the Mechanics' Institute; but I do not know whether this on the whole
did them any harm. Most of Mr. Smith's hearers, excepting the party
from the palace, were Barchester tradesmen with their wives and
families; and they waited, not impatiently, for the big people. And
then the lecture was gratis, a fact which is always borne in mind
by an Englishman when he comes to reckon up and calculate the way
in which he is treated. When he pays his money, then he takes his
choice; he may be impatient or not as he likes. His sense of justice
teaches him so much, and in accordance with that sense he usually
acts. So the people on the benches rose graciously when the palace
party entered the room. Seats for them had been kept in the front.
There were three arm-chairs, which were filled, after some little
hesitation, by the bishop, Mrs. Proudie, and Miss Dunstable--Mrs.
Smith positively declining to take one of them; though, as she
admitted, her rank as Lady Papua of the islands did give her some
claim. And this remark, as it was made quite out loud, reached Mr.
Smith's ears as he stood behind a little table on a small raised
dais, holding his white kid gloves; and it annoyed him and rather put
him out. He did not like that joke about Lady Papua. And then the
others of the party sat upon a front bench covered with red cloth.
"We shall find this very hard and very narrow about the second hour,"
said Mr. Sowerby, and Mr. Smith on his dais again overheard the
words, and dashed his gloves down to the table. He felt that all the
room would hear it.

And there were one or two gentlemen on the second seat who shook
hands with some of our party. There was Mr. Thorne, of Ullathorne,
a good-natured old bachelor, whose residence was near enough
to Barchester to allow of his coming in without much personal
inconvenience; and next to him was Mr. Harding, an old clergyman
of the chapter, with whom Mrs. Proudie shook hands very graciously,
making way for him to seat himself close behind her if he would so
please. But Mr. Harding did not so please. Having paid his respects
to the bishop he returned quietly to the side of his old friend Mr.
Thorne, thereby angering Mrs. Proudie, as might easily be seen by her
face. And Mr. Chadwick also was there, the episcopal man of business
for the diocese; but he also adhered to the two gentlemen above
named. And now that the bishop and the ladies had taken their places,
Mr. Harold Smith relifted his gloves and again laid them down, hummed
three times distinctly, and then began.

"It was," he said, "the most peculiar characteristic of the present
era in the British islands that those who were high placed before the
world in rank, wealth, and education were willing to come forward
and give their time and knowledge without fee or reward, for the
advantage and amelioration of those who did not stand so high in the
social scale." And then he paused for a moment, during which Mrs.
Smith remarked to Miss Dunstable that that was pretty well for a
beginning; and Miss Dunstable replied, "that as for herself she felt
very grateful to rank, wealth, and education." Mr. Sowerby winked
to Mr. Supplehouse, who opened his eyes very wide and shrugged his
shoulders. But the Barchesterians took it all in good part and gave
the lecturer the applause of their hands and feet. And then, well
pleased, he recommenced--"I do not make these remarks with reference
to myself--"

"I hope he's not going to be modest," said Miss Dunstable.

"It will be quite new if he is," replied Mrs. Smith.

"--so much as to many noble and talented lords and members of the
lower House who have lately from time to time devoted themselves to
this good work." And then he went through a long list of peers and
members of Parliament, beginning, of course, with Lord Boanerges, and
ending with Mr. Green Walker, a young gentleman who had lately been
returned by his uncle's interest for the borough of Crewe Junction,
and had immediately made his entrance into public life by giving a
lecture on the grammarians of the Latin language as exemplified at
Eton School. "On the present occasion," Mr. Smith continued, "our
object is to learn something as to those grand and magnificent
islands which lie far away, beyond the Indies, in the Southern Ocean;
the lands of which produce rich spices and glorious fruits, and whose
seas are embedded with pearls and corals,--Papua and the Philippines,
Borneo and the Moluccas. My friends, you are familiar with your maps,
and you know the track which the equator makes for itself through
those distant oceans." And then many heads were turned down, and
there was a rustle of leaves; for not a few of those "who stood not
so high in the social scale" had brought their maps with them, and
refreshed their memories as to the whereabouts of these wondrous
islands.

And then Mr. Smith also, with a map in his hand, and pointing
occasionally to another large map which hung against the wall, went
into the geography of the matter. "We might have found that out from
our atlases, I think, without coming all the way to Barchester,"
said that unsympathizing helpmate, Mrs. Harold, very cruelly--most
illogically too, for there be so many things which we could find out
ourselves by search, but which we never do find out unless they be
specially told us; and why should not the latitude and longitude of
Labuan be one--or rather two of these things? And then, when he had
duly marked the path of the line through Borneo, Celebes, and Gilolo,
through the Macassar Strait and the Molucca passage, Mr. Harold
Smith rose to a higher flight. "But what," said he, "avails all
that God can give to man, unless man will open his hand to receive
the gift? And what is this opening of the hand but the process of
civilization--yes, my friends, the process of civilization? These
South Sea islanders have all that a kind Providence can bestow on
them; but that all is as nothing without education. That education
and that civilization it is for you to bestow upon them--yes, my
friends, for you; for you, citizens of Barchester as you are." And
then he paused again, in order that the feet and hands might go to
work. The feet and hands did go to work, during which Mr. Smith took
a slight drink of water. He was now quite in his element, and had
got into the proper way of punching the table with his fists. A few
words dropping from Mr. Sowerby did now and again find their way to
his ears, but the sound of his own voice had brought with it the
accustomed charm, and he ran on from platitude to truism, and from
truism back to platitude, with an eloquence that was charming to
himself.

"Civilization," he exclaimed, lifting up his eyes and hands to the
ceiling. "O Civilization--"

"There will not be a chance for us now for the next hour and a half,"
said Mr. Supplehouse, groaning. Harold Smith cast one eye down at
him, but it immediately flew back to the ceiling.

"O Civilization! thou that ennoblest mankind and makest him equal to
the gods, what is like unto thee?" Here Mrs. Proudie showed evident
signs of disapprobation, which no doubt would have been shared by
the bishop, had not that worthy prelate been asleep. But Mr. Smith
continued unobservant; or at any rate regardless. "What is like unto
thee? Thou art the irrigating stream which makest fertile the barren
plain. Till thou comest all is dark and dreary; but at thy advent the
noontide sun shines out, the earth gives forth her increase; the deep
bowels of the rocks render up their tribute. Forms which were dull
and hideous become endowed with grace and beauty, and vegetable
existence rises to the scale of celestial life. Then, too, Genius
appears clad in a panoply of translucent armour, grasping in his
hand the whole terrestrial surface, and making every rood of earth
subservient to his purposes;--Genius, the child of Civilization, the
mother of the Arts!" The last little bit, taken from the "Pedigree
of Progress," had a great success, and all Barchester went to work
with its hands and feet;--all Barchester, except that ill-natured
aristocratic front-row together with the three arm-chairs at the
corner of it. The aristocratic front row felt itself to be too
intimate with civilization to care much about it; and the three
arm-chairs, or rather that special one which contained Mrs.
Proudie, considered that there was a certain heathenness, a pagan
sentimentality almost amounting to infidelity, contained in the
lecturer's remarks, with which she, a pillar of the Church, could not
put up, seated as she was now in public conclave.

"It is to civilization that we must look," continued Mr. Harold
Smith, descending from poetry to prose as a lecturer well knows how,
and thereby showing the value of both--"for any material progress in
these islands; and--"

"And to Christianity," shouted Mrs. Proudie, to the great amazement
of the assembled people, and to the thorough wakening of the bishop,
who, jumping up in his chair at the sound of the well-known voice,
exclaimed, "Certainly, certainly."

"Hear, hear, hear," said those on the benches who particularly
belonged to Mrs. Proudie's school of divinity in the city, and among
the voices was distinctly heard that of a new verger in whose behalf
she had greatly interested herself.

"Oh, yes, Christianity of course," said Harold Smith, upon whom the
interruption did not seem to operate favourably.

"Christianity and Sabbath-day observance," exclaimed Mrs. Proudie,
who, now that she had obtained the ear of the public, seemed well
inclined to keep it. "Let us never forget that these islanders can
never prosper unless they keep the Sabbath holy." Poor Mr. Smith,
having been so rudely dragged from his high horse, was never able
to mount it again, and completed the lecture in a manner not at all
comfortable to himself. He had there, on the table before him, a huge
bundle of statistics, with which he had meant to convince the reason
of his hearers, after he had taken full possession of their feelings.
But they fell very dull and flat. And at the moment when he was
interrupted, he was about to explain that that material progress to
which he had alluded could not be attained without money; and that it
behoved them, the people of Barchester before him, to come forward
with their purses like men and brothers. He did also attempt this;
but from the moment of that fatal onslaught from the arm-chair,
it was clear to him, and to every one else, that Mrs. Proudie was
now the hero of the hour. His time had gone by, and the people of
Barchester did not care a straw for his appeal. From these causes
the lecture was over full twenty minutes earlier than any one had
expected, to the great delight of Messrs. Sowerby and Supplehouse,
who, on that evening, moved and carried a vote of thanks to Mrs.
Proudie. For they had gay doings yet before they went to their beds.

"Robarts, here one moment," Mr. Sowerby said, as they were standing
at the door of the Mechanics' Institute. "Don't you go off with Mr.
and Mrs. Bishop. We are going to have a little supper at the Dragon
of Wantly, and, after what we have gone through, upon my word we want
it. You can tell one of the palace servants to let you in." Mark
considered the proposal wistfully. He would fain have joined the
supper party had he dared; but he, like many others of his cloth, had
the fear of Mrs. Proudie before his eyes. And a very merry supper
they had; but poor Mr. Harold Smith was not the merriest of the
party.

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