The Altar Steps by Compton MacKenzie

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"And now, Mr. Rowley," Dr. Crawshay began when he had motioned Mark to a
chair. "To return to the subject under discussion between us. How can
you justify by any rubric of the Book of Common Prayer non-communicating
attendance?"

"I don't justify it by any rubric," the Missioner replied.

"Oh, you don't, don't you?"

"I justify it by the needs of human nature," the Missioner continued.
"In order to provide the necessary three communicants for the mid-day
Mass. . . ."

"One moment, Mr. Rowley," the Bishop interrupted. "I beg you most
earnestly to avoid that word. You know my old-fashioned Protestant
notions," he added, and his eyes so tired with pain twinkled for a
moment. "To me there is always something distasteful about that word."

"What shall I substitute, my lord?" the Missioner asked. "Do you object
to the word 'Eucharist'?"

"No, I don't object to that, though why you should want a Greek name
when we have a beautiful English name like the Lord's Supper, why you
should want to employ such a barbarism as 'Eucharist' I don't know.
However, if you must use Eucharist, use Eucharist. And now, by wandering
off into a discussion of terminology I forget where we were. Oh yes, you
were on the point of justifying non-communicating attendance by the
needs of human nature."

"I am afraid, my lord, that in a district like St. Agnes' it is
impossible always to ensure communicants for sometimes as many as four
early Lord's Suppers said by visiting priests."

The Bishop's eyes twinkled again.

"Yes, there you rather have me, Mr. Rowley. Four early Lord's Suppers
does sound, I must admit, a little odd."

"Four early Eucharists followed by another for children at half-past
nine, and the parochial sung Mass--sung Eucharist."

"Children?" Dr. Crawshay repeated. "You surely don't let children go to
the Celebration?"

"_Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for of
such is the Kingdom of Heaven_," Father Rowley reminded the Bishop.

"Yes, yes, I happen to have heard that text before. But the devil, Mr.
Rowley, can cite Scripture to his purpose."

"In the last letter I wrote to your lordship about the services at St.
Agnes' I particularly mentioned our children's Eucharist."

"Did you, Mr. Rowley, did you? I had quite forgotten that."

Father Rowley turned to Mark for verification.

"Oh, if Mr. Rowley remembers that he did write, there is no need to call
witnesses. I have had to complain a good deal of him, but I have never
had to complain of his frankness. It must be my fault, but I certainly
hadn't understood that there was definitely a children's Eucharist. This
then, I fancy, must be the service at which those three ladies
complained of your treatment of them."

"What three ladies?" asked the priest.

"Dear me, I'm growing very unbusinesslike, I'm afraid. I thought I had
enclosed you a copy of their letter to me when I wrote to invite an
explanation of your high-handed action."

The Bishop sighed. The details of these ecclesiastical squabbles
distracted him at a time when he should soon leave this fretful earth
behind him. He continued wearily:

"These were the three ladies who were refused communion by you at, as I
understood, the mid-day Celebration, which now turns out to be what you
call the children's Eucharist."

"It is perfectly true, my lord," Father Rowley admitted, "that on Sunday
week three women did present themselves from a neighbouring parish."

"Ah, they were not parishioners?"

"Certainly not, my lord."

"Which is a point in your favour."

"Throughout the service they sat looking through opera-glasses at Snaith
who was officiating, and greatly scandalizing the children, who are not
used to such behaviour in church."

"Such behaviour was certainly most objectionable," the Bishop agreed.

"I happened to be sitting at the back of the church, thinking out my
sermon, and their behaviour annoyed me so much that I sent for the
sacristan to go and order a cab. I then went up and whispered to them
that inasmuch as they were strangers it would be better if they went and
made their Communion in the next parish where the service would be more
lenient to their theory of worship. I took one of them by the arm, led
her gently down the aisle and out into the street, and handed her into
the cab. Her two companions followed her; I paid the cabman; and that
was the end of the matter."

The Bishop lay back on the pillows and thought for a moment or two in
silence.

"Yes," he said finally, "I think that in this case you were justified.
At the same time your justification by the Book of Common Prayer lay in
the fact that these women did not give you notice beforehand of their
intention to communicate. I think I must insist that in future you make
some arrangement with your workers and helpers to secure the requisite
minimum of communicants for every celebration. Personally, I think six
on a Sunday and four on a week-day far too many. I think the repetition
has a tendency to cheapen the Sacrament."

"_By Him therefore let us offer the sacrifice of praise to God
continually_," Father Rowley quoted from the Epistle to the Hebrews.

"Yes, yes, I know," said the Bishop. "But I wish you wouldn't drag in
these texts. They really have nothing whatever to do with the point in
question. Please realize, Mr. Rowley, that I allow you a great deal of
latitude at St. Agnes' because I am aware of what a great influence for
good you have been among these poor people."

"Your lordship has always been consideration itself."

"If that be your opinion, I want you to obey my ruling in this small
matter. I am continually being involved in correspondence on your
account with Vigilance Societies of the type of the Protestant Alliance,
and I shall give myself the pleasure of answering their complaints
without at the same time not, as I hope, impeding your splendid work. I
wish also, if God allows me to leave this bed again, to take the next
Confirmation in St. Agnes' myself. My presence there will afford you a
measure of official support which will not, I venture to believe, be a
disadvantage to your work. I do not expect you to modify your method of
conducting the service too much. That would savour of hypocrisy, both on
your side and on mine. But there are one or two things which I should
prefer not to see again. Last time you dressed a number of your
choir-boys in red cassocks."

"The servers, you mean, my lord?"

"Whatever you call them, they wear red cassocks, red slippers, and red
skull caps. That I really cannot stand. You must put them into black
cassocks and leave their caps and slippers in the vestry cupboard.
Further, I do not wish that most conspicuous processional crucifix to be
carried about in front of me wherever I go."

"Would you like the crucifix to be taken down from the altar as well?"
Father Rowley asked.

"No, that can stay: I shan't see that one."

"What date will suit your lordship for the Confirmation?"

"Ought not the question to have been rather what date will suit you, for
I have never yet been fortunate enough, and I never hope to be fortunate
enough, to fix upon a date straight off that will suit you, Mr. Rowley.
Let me know that later. In any case, my presence must depend, alas, upon
the state of my health. Now, how are you getting on with your new
church?"

"We shall be ready to open it in the spring of next year if all goes
well. Do you think that a new licence will be required? The new St.
Agnes' is joined to the present church by the sacristy."

The Bishop considered the question for a moment.

"No, I think that the old licence will serve. There is no prospect yet
of making St. Agnes' into a parish, and I would rather take advantage of
the technicality, all things being considered. Good-bye, Mr. Rowley. God
bless you."

The Bishop raised his thin arm.

"God bless your lordship."

"You are always in my prayers, Mr. Rowley. I think much about you lying
here on the threshold of Eternal Life."

The Bishop turned to Mark who knelt beside the bed.

"Young man, I would fain be spared long enough to ordain you to the
service of Almighty God, but you are still young and I am very near to
death. You could not have before you a better example of a Christian
gentleman than your friend and my friend Mr. Rowley. I shall say nothing
about his example as a clergyman of the Church of England. Remember me,
both of you, in your prayers."

The Bishop sank back exhausted, and his visitors went quietly out of the
room.

CHAPTER XIX

THE ALTAR FOR THE DEAD

All went as well with the new St. Agnes' as the Bishop had hoped.
Columns of red brick were covered in marble and alabaster by the votive
offerings of individuals or the subscriptions of different Silchester
Houses; the baldacchino was given by one rich old lady, the pavement of
the church by another; the Duke of Birmingham contributed a thurible;
Oxford Old Siltonians decorated the Lady Chapel; Cambridge Old
Siltonians found the gold mosaic for the dome of the apse. Father Rowley
begged money for the fabric far and wide, and the architect, the
contractors, and the workmen, all Chatsea men, gave of their best and
asked as little as possible in return. The new church was to be opened
on Easter morning. But early in Lent the Bishop of Silchester died in
the bed from which he had never risen since the day Father Rowley and
Mark received his blessing. The diocese mourned him, for he was a gentle
scholar, wise in his knowledge of men, simple and pious in his own life.

Dr. Harvard Cheesman, the new Bishop, was translated from the see of
Ipswich to which he had been preferred from the Chapel Royal in the
Savoy. Bishop Cheesman possessed all the episcopal qualities. He had the
hands of a physician and the brow of a scholar. He was filled with a
sense of the importance of his position, and in that perhaps was
included n sense of the importance of himself. He was eloquent in
public, grandiloquent in private. To him Father Rowley wrote shortly
after his enthronement.

St. Agnes' House,

Keppel Street,

Chatsea.

March 24.

My Lord Bishop,

I am unwilling to trouble you at a moment when you must be
unusually busy; but I shall be glad to hear from you about the
opening of the new church of the Silchester College Mission, which
was fixed for Easter Sunday. Your predecessor, Bishop Crawshay, did
not think that any new licence would be necessary, because the new
St. Agnes' is joined by the sacristy to the old mission church.
There is no idea at present of asking you to constitute St. Agnes'
a parish and therefore the question of consecration does not arise.
I regret to say that Bishop Crawshay thoroughly disapproved of our
services and ritual, and I think he may have felt unwilling to
commit himself to endorsing them by the formal grant of a new
licence. May I hear from you at your convenience, and may I
respectfully add that your lordship has the prayers of all my
people?

I am your lordship's obedient servant,

John Rowley.

To which the Lord Bishop of Silchester replied as follows:

High Thorpe Castle.

March 26.

Dear Mr. Rowley,

As my predecessor Bishop Crawshay did not think a new licence would
be necessary I have no doubt that you can go ahead with your plan
of opening the new St. Agnes' on Easter Sunday. At the same time I
cannot help feeling that a new licence would be desirable and I am
asking Canon Whymper as Rural Dean to pay a visit and make the
necessary report. I have heard much of your work, and I pray that
it may be as blessed in my time as it was in the time of my
predecessor. I am grateful to your people for their prayers and I
am, my dear Mr. Rowley,

Yours very truly,

Harvard Silton.

Canon Whymper, the Rector of Chatsea and Rural Dean, visited the new
church on the Monday of Passion week. On Saturday Father Rowley received
the following letter from the Bishop:

High Thorpe Castle.

April 9.

Dear Mr. Rowley,

I have just received Canon Whymper's report upon the new church of
the Silchester College Mission, and I think before you open the
church on Easter Sunday I should like to talk over one or two
comparatively unimportant details with you personally. Moreover, it
would give me pleasure to make your acquaintance and hear something
of your method of work at St. Agnes'. Perhaps you will come to High
Thorpe on Monday. There is a train which arrives at High Thorpe at
2.36. So I shall expect you at the Castle at 2.42.

Yours very truly,

Harvard Silton.

Mark paid his second visit to High Thorpe Castle on one of those serene
April mornings that sail like swans across the lake of time. The
episcopal standard on the highest turret hung limp; the castle quivered
in the sunlight; the lawns wearing their richest green seemed as far
from being walked upon as the blue sky above them. Whether it was that
Mark was nervous about the result of the coming interview or whether it
was that his first visit to High Thorpe had been the climax of so many
new experiences, he was certainly much more sharply aware on this
occasion of what the Castle stood for. Looking back to the morning when
he and Father Rowley sat with Bishop Crawshay in his bedroom, he
realized how much the personality of the dead bishop had dominated his
surroundings and how little all this dignity and splendour, which must
have been as imposing then as it was now, had impressed his imagination.
There came over Mark, when he and Father Rowley were walking silently
along the drive, such a foreboding of the result of this visit that he
almost asked the priest why they bothered to continue their journey, why
they did not turn round immediately and take the next train back to
Chatsea. But before he had time to say anything Father Rowley had pulled
the chain of the door bell, the butler had opened the door, and they
were waiting the Bishop's pleasure in a room that smelt of the best
leather and the best furniture polish. It was a room that so long as Dr.
Cheesman held the see of Silchester would be given over to the
preliminary nervousness of the diocesan clergy, who would one after
another look at that steel engraving of Jesus Christ preaching by the
Sea of Galilee, and who when they had finished looking at that would
look at those two oil paintings of still life, those rich and sombre
accumulations of fish, fruit and game, that glowed upon the walls with a
kind of sinister luxury. Waiting rooms are all much alike, the doctor's,
the dentist's, the bishop's, the railway-station's; they may differ
slightly in externals, but they all possess the same atmosphere of
transitory discomfort. They have all occupied human beings with the
perusal of books they would never otherwise have dreamed of opening,
with the observation of pictures they would never otherwise have thought
of regarding twice.

"Would you step this way," the butler requested. "His lordship is
waiting for you in the library."

The two culprits, for by this time Mark was oblivious of every other
emotion except one of profound guilt, guilt of what he could not say,
but most unmistakably guilt, walked along toward the Bishop's
library--Father Rowley like a fat and naughty child who knows he is
going to be reproved for eating too many tarts.

There was a studied poise in the attitude of the Bishop when they
entered. One shapely leg trailed negligently behind his chair ready at
any moment to serve as the pivot upon which its owner could swing round
again into the every-day world; the other leg firmly wedged against the
desk supported the burden of his concentration. The Bishop swung round
on the shapely leg in attendance, and in a single sweeping gesture
blotted the last page of the letter he had been writing and shook Father
Rowley by the hand.

"I am delighted to have an opportunity of meeting you, Mr. Rowley," he
began, and then paused a moment with an inquiring look at Mark.

"I thought you wouldn't mind, my lord, if I brought with me young
Lidderdale, who is reading for Holy Orders and working with us at St.
Agnes'. I am apt to forget sometimes exactly to what I have and have not
committed myself and I thought your lordship would not object. . . ."

"To a witness?" interposed the Bishop in a tone of courtly banter.
"Come, come, Mr. Rowley, had I known you were going to be so suspicious
of me I should have asked my domestic chaplain to be present on my
side."

Mark, supposing that the Bishop was annoyed by his presence at the
interview, made a movement to retire, whereupon the Bishop tapped him
paternally upon the shoulder and said:

"Nonsense, non-sense, I was merely indulging in a mild pleasantry. Sit
down, Mr. Rowley. Mr. Lidderdale I think you will find that chair quite
comfortable. Well, Mr. Rowley," he began, "I have heard much of you and
your work. Our friend Canon Whymper spoke of it with enthusiasm. Yes,
yes, with enthusiasm. I often regret that in the course of my ministry I
have never had the good fortune to be called to work among the poor, the
real poor. You have been privileged, Mr. Rowley, if I may be allowed to
say so, greatly, immensely privileged. You find a wilderness, and you
make of it a garden. Wonderful. Wonderful."

Mark began to feel uncomfortable, and he thought by the way Father
Rowley was puffing his cheeks that he too was beginning to feel
uncomfortable. The Missioner looked as if he was blowing away the lather
of the soap that the Bishop was using upon him so prodigally.

"Some other time, Mr. Rowley, when I have a little leisure. . . . I
perceive the need of making myself acquainted with every side of my new
diocese--a little leisure, yes . . . sometime I should like to have a
long talk with you about all the details of your work at Chatsea, of
which as I said Canon Whymper has spoken to me most enthusiastically.
The question, however, immediately before us this morning is the licence
of your new church. Since writing to you first I have thought the matter
over most earnestly. I have given the matter the gravest consideration.
I have consulted Canon Whymper and I have come to the conclusion that
bearing all the circumstances in mind it will be wiser for you to apply,
and I hope be granted, a new licence. With this decision in my mind I
asked Canon Whymper in his capacity as Rural Dean to report upon the new
church. Mr. Rowley, his report is extremely favourable. He writes to me
of the noble fabric, noble is the actual epithet he employs, yes, the
very phrase. He expresses his conviction that you are to be
congratulated, most warmly congratulated, Mr. Rowley, upon your vigorous
work. I believe I am right in saying that all the money necessary to
erect this noble edifice has been raised by yourself?"

"Not all of it," said Father Rowley. "I still owe L3,000."

"A mere trifle," said the Bishop, dismissing the sum with the airy
gesture of a conjurer who palms a coin. "A mere trifle compared with
what you have already raised. I know that at the moment there is no
question of constituting as a parish what is at present merely a
district; but such a contingency must be borne in mind by both of us,
and inasmuch as that would imply consecration by myself I am unwilling
to prejudice any decision I might have to take later, should the
necessity for consecration arise, by allowing you at the moment a wider
latitude than I might be prepared to allow you in the future. Yes, Canon
Whymper writes most enthusiastically of the noble fabric." The Bishop
paused, drummed with his fingers on the arm of his chair as if he were
testing the pitch of his instrument, and then taking a deep breath
boomed forth: "But Mr. Rowley, in his report he informs me that in the
middle of the south aisle exists an altar or Holy Table expressly and
exclusively designed for what he was told are known as masses for the
dead."

"That is perfectly true," said Father Rowley.

"Ah," said the Bishop, shaking his head gravely. "I did not indeed
imagine that Canon Whymper would be misinformed about such an important
feature; but I did not think it right to act without ascertaining first
from you that such is indeed the case. Mr. Rowley, it would be difficult
for me to express how grievously it pains me to have to seem to
interfere in the slightest degree with the successful prosecution of
your work among the poor of Chatsea, especially to make such
interference one of the first of my actions in a new diocese; but the
responsibilities of a bishop are grave. He cannot lightly endorse a
condition of affairs, a method of services which in his inmost heart
after the deepest confederation he feels is repugnant to the spirit of
the Church Of England. . . ."

"I question that opinion, my lord," said the Missioner.

"Mr. Rowley, pray allow me to finish. We have little time at our
disposal for a theological argument which would in any case be
fruitless, for as I told you I have already examined the question with
the deepest consideration from every standpoint. Though I may respect
your opinions in my private capacity, for I do not wish to impugn for
one moment the sincerity of your beliefs, in my episcopal, or what I may
call my public character, I can only condemn them utterly. Utterly, Mr.
Rowley, and completely."

"But this altar, my lord," shouted Father Rowley, springing to his feet,
to the alarm of Mark, who thought he was going to shake his fist in the
Bishop's face, "this altar was subscribed for by the poor of St. Agnes',
by all the poor of St. Agnes', as a memorial of the lives of sailors and
marines of St. Agnes' lost in the sinking of the _King Harry_. Your
predecessor, Bishop Crawshay, knew of its existence, actually saw it and
commented on its ugliness; yet when I told him the circumstances in
which it had been erected he was deeply moved by the beautiful idea.
This altar has been in use for nearly three years. Masses for the dead
have been said there time after time. This altar is surrounded by
memorials of my dead people. It is one of the most vital factors in my
work there. You ask me to remove it, before you have been in the diocese
a month, before you have had time to see with your own eyes what an
influence for good it has on the daily lives of the poor people who
built it. My lord, I will not remove the altar."

While Father Rowley was speaking the Bishop of Silchester had been
looking like a man on a railway platform who has been ambushed by a
whistling engine.

"Mr. Rowley, Mr. Rowley," he said, "I pray you to control yourself. I
beg you to understand that this is not a mere question of red tape, if I
may use the expression, of one extra altar or Holy Table, but it is a
question of the services said at that altar or Holy Table."

"That is precisely what I am trying to point out to your lordship,"
said Father Rowley angrily.

"You yourself told me when you wrote to me that Bishop Crawshay
disapproved of much that was done at St. Agnes'. It was you who put it
into my head at the beginning of our correspondence that you were not
asking me formally to open the new church, because you were doubtful of
the effect your method of worship might have upon me. I don't wish for a
moment to suggest that you were trying to bundle on one side the
question of the licence, before I had had a moment to look round me in
my new diocese, I say I do _not_ think this for a moment; but inasmuch
as the question has come before me officially, as sooner or later it
must have come before me officially, I cannot allow my future action to
be prejudiced by giving you liberties now that I may not be prepared to
allow you later on. Suppose that in three years' time the question of
consecrating the new St. Agnes' arises and the legality of this third
altar or Holy Table is questioned, how should I be able to turn round
and forbid then what I have not forbidden now?"

"Your lordship prefers to force me to resign?"

"Force you to resign, Mr. Rowley?" the Bishop repeated in aggrieved
accents. "What can I possibly have said that could lead you to suppose
for one moment that I was desirous of forcing you to resign? I make
allowance for your natural disappointment. I make every allowance.
Otherwise Mr. Rowley I should be tempted to characterize such a
statement as cruel. As cruel, Mr. Rowley."

"What other alternative have I?"

"I should have said, Mr. Rowley, that you have one other very obvious
alternative, and that is to accept my ruling upon the subject of this
third altar or Holy Table. When I shall receive an assurance that you
will do so, I shall with pleasure, with great pleasure, give you a new
licence."

"I could not possibly do that," said the Missioner. "I could not
possibly go back to my people to-night and tell them this Holy Week that
what I have been teaching them for ten years is a lie. I would rather
resign a thousand times."

"That is a far more accurate statement than your previous assertion
that I was forcing you to resign."

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