Even when the bishop capitulated in favour of Princhester, that decision only opened a fresh trouble for him.Princhester wanted the palace to be a palace; it wanted to combine all the best points of Lambeth and Fulham with the marble splendours of a good modern bank.The bishop's architectural tastes, on the other hand, were rationalistic.He was all for building a useful palace in undertones, with a green slate roof and long horizontal lines.
What he wanted more than anything else was a quite remote wing with a lot of bright little bedrooms and a sitting-room and so on, complete in itself, examination hall and everything, with a long intricate connecting passage and several doors, to prevent the ordination candidates straying all over the place and getting into the talk and the tea.But the diocese wanted a proud archway --and turrets, and did not care a rap if the ordination candidates slept about on the carpets in the bishop's bedroom.
Ordination candidates were quite outside the sphere of its imagination.
And he disappointed Princhester with his equipage.Princhester had a feeling that it deserved more for coming over to the church from nonconformity as it was doing.It wanted a bishop in a mitre and a gilt coach.It wanted a pastoral crook.It wanted something to go with its mace and its mayor.And (obsessed by The Snicker)it wanted less of Lady Ella.The cruelty and unreason of these attacks upon his wife distressed the bishop beyond measure, and baffled him hopelessly.He could not see any means of checking them nor of defending or justifying her against them.
The palace was awaiting its tenant, but the controversies and bitternesses were still swinging and swaying and developing when King George was being crowned.Close upon that event came a wave of social discontent, the great railway strike, a curious sense of social and political instability, and the first beginnings of the bishop's ill health.
(4)
There came a day of exceptional fatigue and significance.
The industrial trouble was a very real distress to the bishop.
He had a firm belief that it is a function of the church to act as mediator between employer and employed.It was a common saying of his that the aim of socialism--the right sort of socialism --was to Christianize employment.Regardless of suspicion on either hand, regardless of very distinct hints that he should "mind his own business," he exerted himself in a search for methods of reconciliation.He sought out every one who seemed likely to be influential on either side, and did his utmost to discover the conditions of a settlement.As far as possible and with the help of a not very efficient chaplain he tried to combine such interviews with his more normal visiting.
At times, and this was particularly the case on this day, he seemed to be discovering nothing but the incurable perversity and militancy of human nature.It was a day under an east wind, when a steely-blue sky full of colourless light filled a stiff-necked world with whitish high lights and inky shadows.These bright harsh days of barometric high pressure in England rouse and thwart every expectation of the happiness of spring.And as the bishop drove through the afternoon in a hired fly along a rutted road of slag between fields that were bitterly wired against the Sunday trespasser, he fell into a despondent meditation upon the political and social outlook.
His thoughts were of a sort not uncommon in those days.The world was strangely restless.Since the passing of Victoria the Great there had been an accumulating uneasiness in the national life.It was as if some compact and dignified paper-weight had been lifted from people's ideas, and as if at once they had begun to blow about anyhow.Not that Queen Victoria had really been a paper-weight or any weight at all, but it happened that she died as an epoch closed, an epoch of tremendous stabilities.Her son, already elderly, had followed as the selvedge follows the piece, he had passed and left the new age stripped bare.In nearly every department of economic and social life now there was upheaval, and it was an upheaval very different in character from the radicalism and liberalism of the Victorian days.There were not only doubt and denial, but now there were also impatience and unreason.People argued less and acted quicker.There was a pride in rebellion for its own sake, an indiscipline and disposition to sporadic violence that made it extremely hard to negotiate any reconciliations or compromises.Behind every extremist it seemed stood a further extremist prepared to go one better....
The bishop had spent most of the morning with one of the big employers, a tall dark man, lean and nervous, and obviously tired and worried by the struggle.He did not conceal his opinion that the church was meddling with matters quite outside its sphere.
Never had it been conveyed to the bishop before how remote a rich and established Englishman could consider the church from reality.
"You've got no hold on them," he said."It isn't your sphere."And again: "They'll listen to you--if you speak well.But they don't believe you know anything about it, and they don't trust your good intentions.They won't mind a bit what you say unless you drop something they can use against us."The bishop tried a few phrases.He thought there might be something in co-operation, in profit-sharing, in some more permanent relationship between the business and the employee.
"There isn't," said the employer compactly."It's just the malice of being inferior against the man in control.It's just the spirit of insubordination and boredom with duty.This trouble's as old as the Devil.""But that is exactly the business of the church," said the bishop brightly, "to reconcile men to their duty.""By chanting the Athanasian creed at 'em, I suppose," said the big employer, betraying the sneer he had been hiding hitherto.
