“I daresay. I hoped we might make such efforts as to fix a lasting impression on both Houses that the State appointment of bishops, coupled with the farce of a congé d'élire, is rank blasphemy. This outrage on good taste ought to occupy the attention of every man. It is quite enough to fill the minds of all.”
“It won't,” said Robert. “You must remember that whatever strikes the mind of an average man, as the result of his own observation and discovery, makes always the strongest impression upon him. Now the average man is not engaged in studying Church government. He will not thank you for calling his attention to it.”
“Then what do you want Beauclerk to do?” asked Sara.
“He must fight just the same, of course. I merely wish him to see what he has to encounter. By dragging the clergy into the movement you make it savour—to the popular intelligence—of professional jealousy. By making Dr. Temple your example, you render those who respect his character powerless to express their opinion. Given the system, he is unquestionably the fittest man to profit by it.”
Reckage took many turns round the room.
“The personal character of Dean Ethbin,” he said, at last, “is not exactly square. He acts a trimming part. But now and again he sums up a situation. He says that the English people do not choose to keep up an Established Church which shall be independent of its Sovereign and Legislature. I have seen most of the bishops and archdeacons. They are against Temple; they say very little about the system. Even men with nothing to gain by it,” he added, ingenuously, “don't appear to criticise it.”
“For all that, the Church must deliver her conscience at whatever risk. She ought to assert her will—even against her interest—in order to show England that she is her own mistress!”
“You mean that ironically! What does for Rome, however, doesn't do for us. The Church of England is It—not She—to most people. As for Rome, nothing in her belongs to humanity, except the Vatican discipline—the life of which, I confess, is a permanent miracle!”
“My best friends,” entreated Sara gaily, “do not—do not fight. Be nice to each other and listen to me. The English never read history. Why not get up a kind of Historical Commission and examine the validity of the Anglican Orders? There you can work at the roots of things. After that, introduce a Bill for the admission of clergymen to Parliament. You have spiritual peers, why not spiritual Commons?”
“One at a time,” said Reckage; “what ideas you have! Say them again. I believe they are not half bad. But do go more slowly.”