Part 5 (1/2)

”They act against the bishops,” said Bateman, not quite seeing whither he was going.

”And we act against the Pope,” said Sheffield.

”We say that the Pope isn't necessary,” said Bateman.

”And they say that bishops are not necessary,” returned Sheffield.

They were out of breath, and paused to see where they stood. Presently Bateman said, ”My good sir, this is a question of _fact_, not of argumentative cleverness. The question is, whether it is not _true_ that bishops are necessary to the notion of a Church, and whether it is not _false_ that Popes are necessary.”

”No, no,” cried Sheffield, ”the question is this, whether obedience to our bishops is not necessary to make Wesleyans one body with us, and obedience to their Pope necessary to make us one body with the Romanists. You maintain the one, and deny the other; I maintain both.

Maintain both, or deny both: I am consistent; you are inconsistent.”

Bateman was puzzled.

”In a word,” Sheffield added, ”succession is not unity, any more than doctrine.”

”Not unity? What then is unity?” asked Bateman.

”Oneness of polity,” answered Sheffield.

Bateman thought awhile. ”The idea is preposterous,” he said: ”here we have _possession_; here we are established since King Lucius's time, or since St. Paul preached here; filling the island; one continuous Church; with the same territory, the same succession, the same hierarchy, the same civil and political position, the same churches. Yes,” he proceeded, ”we have the very same fabrics, the memorials of a thousand years, doctrine stamped and perpetuated in stone; all the mystical teaching of the old saints. What have the Methodists to do with Catholic rites? with altars, with sacrifice, with rood-lofts, with fonts, with niches?--they call it all superst.i.tion.”

”Don't be angry with me, Bateman,” said Sheffield, ”and, before going, I will put forth a parable. Here's the Church of England, as like a Protestant Establishment as it can stare; bishops and people, all but a few like yourselves, call it Protestant; the living body calls itself Protestant; the living body abjures Catholicism, flings off the name and the thing, hates the Church of Rome, laughs at sacramental power, despises the Fathers, is jealous of priestcraft, is a Protestant reality, is a Catholic sham. This existing reality, which is alive and no mistake, you wish to top with a filagree-work of screens, dorsals, pastoral staffs, croziers, mitres, and the like. Now most excellent Bateman, will you hear my parable? will you be offended at it?”

Silence gave consent, and Sheffield proceeded.

”Why, once on a time a negro boy, when his master was away, stole into his wardrobe, and determined to make himself fine at his master's expense. So he was presently seen in the streets, naked as usual, but strutting up and down with a c.o.c.ked hat on his head, and a pair of white kid gloves on his hands.”

”Away with you! get out, you graceless, hopeless fellow!” said Bateman, discharging the sofa-bolster at his head. Meanwhile Sheffield ran to the door, and quickly found himself with Charles in the street below.

CHAPTER VIII.

Sheffield and Charles may go their way; but we must follow White and Willis out of Bateman's lodgings. It was a Saint's day, and they had no lectures; they walked arm-in-arm along Broad Street, evidently very intimate, and Willis found his voice: ”I can't bear that Freeborn,” said he, ”he's such a prig; and I like him the less because I am obliged to know him.”

”You knew him in the country, I think?” said White.

”In consequence, he has several times had me to his spiritual tea-parties, and has introduced me to old Mr. Grimes, a good, kind-hearted old _fogie_, but an awful evangelical, and his wife worse.

Grimes is the old original religious tea-man, and Freeborn imitates him.

They get together as many men as they can, perhaps twenty freshmen, bachelors, and masters, who sit in a circle, with cups and saucers in their hands and ha.s.socks at their knees. Some insufferable person of Capel Hall or St. Mark's, who hardly speaks English, under pretence of asking Mr. Grimes some divinity question, holds forth on original sin, or justification, or a.s.surance, monopolizing the conversation. Then tea-things go, and a portion of Scripture comes instead; and old Grimes expounds; very good it is, doubtless, though he is a layman. He's a good old soul; but no one in the room can stand it; even Mrs. Grimes nods over her knitting, and some of the dear brothers breathe very audibly.

Mr. Grimes, however, hears nothing but himself. At length he stops; his hearers wake up, and the ha.s.socks begin. Then we go; and Mr. Grimes and the St. Mark's man call it a profitable evening. I can't make out why any one goes twice; yet some men never miss.”

”They all go on faith,” said White: ”faith in Mr. Grimes.”

”Faith in old Grimes,” said Willis; ”an old half-pay lieutenant!”

”Here's a church open,” said White; ”that's odd; let's go in.”