“Of course,” said his lordship, readily enough, “a combination in defence of any article of the faith is a noble thing. My original idea was to get up a combination of High and Low and Broad Churchmen, and make a stand on purely legal grounds. For instance, how can the bishops, without previous explanation, consecrate one lying under the censure of their House? That is all. There is nothing offensive in that. We merely ask for an explanation: we offer no judgment: we state no prejudice. If Dr. Temple intends to withdraw his paper from Essays and Reviews—well and good. Personally, he bears the highest character. He would be, in many ways, an acquisition to the Church. But does he himself believe in the Church as a Divine institution—mark you, a Divine institution? Neither the Outs nor the Ins, I should think, could object to this question. Aumerle and the Executive, however, are dead against any proceedings at all. They think we ought to give our Association a more secular character. They say we are hampered by too vehement a religious tone. They say that broad Christian principles are more workable. Besides, the word Christian always attracts the Nonconformists in spite of themselves. They are bound to support you if you stick to the line of a believer in Christ—irrespective of particular doctrines. And so on and so on. I prefer something more hard and fast myself. Yet they may be right. One must go with the times.”
He shifted his chair several times during this speech, looking first at Orange and then at Sara for encouragement.
“Your Executive are poor creatures,” said Sara, with a curling lip; “your weak theologians have become flabby politicians—their one rule of action is to avoid everything which demands even the possibility of self-sacrifice or adverse criticism.”
“That is most unfair,” said Reckage hotly. “One must see where one is going.”
“The world,” said Sara, “in the long run, despises those who pander to it.”
“Yes, but it is in the long run, and no mistake! What a fellow you are, Robert! Why don't you suggest something? Are you trying to find the civilest thing you can say of the performance?”
“It is the system which you must attack in the present difficulty. The system is at fault—not Dr. Temple,” said Robert.
“No other system can be now looked to as a substitute,” answered Reckage impatiently. “The thing cannot be done away now, the danger is too near.”
“Exactly. The English can never deal with systems or ideas. They can only attack individuals—you depend in a crisis on the passions of men, never on their reason. Whereas if you overhauled their reason, worked it, and trained it, the passions, at the critical moment, would be roused with better effect, and would be properly organised. Organised passions are what you need for a strong public movement. Whirling emotions in contrary currents are utterly futile.”