Part 5 (2/2)

”You really made me think some awful thing had happened. Only a brawl in church?”

”I am very sorry, my dear,” he answered quickly; ”I fear I have shown a great want of tact. I did not know. I forgot, that is, that you don't quite see these things as we do. You don't realise what it means.”

”Shall I give you some chicken, Father?” Agatha said, looking at a dish of mayonnaise before her. She thought that there had been quite a fuss made about nothing.

Lord Huddersfield sighed. He felt that he was in a thoroughly uncongenial atmosphere, though he was sorry for the alarm he had caused.

Once his eye fell in mild wonder upon his guest. How unlike her brother she was, he thought.

There was an awkward silence, which James broke at length.

”I always thought,” he said, ”that there would be trouble soon. The days for locking clergymen up have pa.s.sed by, but Protestant feeling is bound to have its outlet.”

His quick brain had seized upon the main point at once.

”Well, there will be more work for the lawyers,” he continued.

Lord Huddersfield frowned a little. ”Of course, I can't expect you to see the thing as I do, James,” he said. ”To me such a public insult to our Lord is terrible. It almost frightens one. What poor Blantyre must have felt, what every Catholic there must have felt, is most painful to imagine.”

”I'm sure Mr. Poyntz has sympathy with any body of people whose most sacred moment has been roughly disturbed,” the chaplain said. ”Whatever a man's convictions may be, he must feel that. But the thing is over and nothing can put it right. What I fear is, that this is only the beginning of a series of sacrilegious acts which may do the Church incalculable harm.”

”The newspaper report, which appeared everywhere but in the _Times_,”

Lord Huddersfield replied, ”stated that it was only the beginning of a campaign. All the reports were identical and apparently supplied to the papers by the same person, probably the brawlers themselves--who appear to be people of no consequence whatever.”

”There will be a service of reparation?” asked the chaplain.

”Yes, to-morrow,” answered Lord Huddersfield. ”I am going down to Hornham and shall be present. We must discuss everything with Blantyre and settle exactly what lines the _Church Standard_ will take up.”

”Of course, Mr. Blantyre will prosecute?” James said.

”Oh, yes. My telegram told me that the summons had already been issued.

The law is quite clear, I suppose, on the point, James?”

”Quite. Brawling in church is a grave offence. But these people will, of course, pose as martyrs. Public opinion will be with them, a nominal fine will be inflicted, and they'll find themselves heroes. I'm afraid the Ritualists are going to have a bad time. In '68, the Martin _v._ Mackonochie judgment was very plain, and in '71 the judicial committee of the Privy Council was plainer still in the case of Herbert _v._ Punchas. Then, after the Public Wors.h.i.+p Regulation Act, the Risdale judgment clinched the whole thing. That was at the beginning of it all.

Now, though prosecutions have been almost discontinued, the few cases that have been heard before the ecclesiastical courts are all the same.

So far as I can see, if this pleasant little habit of getting up and brawling protests in church becomes popular, a big fire will be lighted and the advanced men will have to draw in their horns.”

Lord Huddersfield smiled. He attempted no argument or explanation. He had thrashed out these questions with his son long ago. Father Saltus spoke instead.

”If this really spreads into a movement, as it may,” he said, ”ignorant public opinion will be with the protestors for a month or two. But that is all. The man in the street will say that every one has a right to hold whatever religious opinions he pleases, and to convert others to his views--if he can--by the ordinary methods of propagandism. But he will also say that no one has a right to air his opinions by disturbing the devotions of those who don't happen to agree with him. And what is more, no religious cause was ever advanced by these means. I have no doubt that these people will boast and brag that they are vindicating the cause of law in the Church of England. But if they knew anything of the history of that Protestantism they champion--which, of course, they _don't_, for they know nothing whatever--they would know that the law is the most impotent of all weapons to crush a religious movement.”

James nodded. ”It is a truism of history,” he agreed.

”Exactly. To call in the aid of the law to counteract the spread of any religious doctrine or ceremonial is to adopt the precise means that sent the Oxford martyrs to the stake and lighted the Smithfield fires. From the days when the High Priests called in the law's aid to nip Christianity in the bud, the appeal to the law has never been anything but an appeal to the spirit of intolerance and persecution against the freedom of religious belief and wors.h.i.+p.”

Agatha rose from the table. ”Come along, Lucy dear,” she said; ”'all's well that ends well,' and your brother's not going to have a bomb thrown at him just yet. You will be in the thick of the disturbance in a few days; meanwhile, make the most of the river and the suns.h.i.+ne! Jim, come and punt us to the Eyot.”

She kissed her father and fluttered away singing happily a s.n.a.t.c.h of an old song, _Green Grow the Rushes O!_

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