CHAPTER I
Ā Ā Hiram's Hospital
Ā Ā The Rev. Septimus Harding was, a few years since, a
beneficed clergyman residing in the cathedral town of - -; let us
call it Barchester. Were we to name Wells or Salisbury, Exeter,
Hereford, or Gloucester, it might be presumed that something
personal was intended; and as this tale will refer mainly to the
cathedral dignitaries of the town in question, we are anxious that
no personality may be suspected. Let us presume that Barchester is
a quiet town in the West of England, more remarkable for the beauty
of its cathedral and the antiquity of its monuments than for any
commercial prosperity; that the west end of Barchester is the
cathedral close, and that the aristocracy of Barchester are the
bishop, dean, and canons, with their respective wives and
daughters.
Ā Ā Early in life Mr Harding found himself located at
Barchester. A fine voice and a taste for sacred music had decided
the position in which he was to exercise his calling, and for many
years he performed the easy but not highly paid duties of a minor
canon. At the age of forty a small living in the close vicinity of
the town increased both his work and his income, and at the age of
fifty he became precentor of the cathedral.
Ā Ā Mr Harding had married early in life, and was the
father of two daughters. The eldest, Susan, was born soon after his
marriage; the other, Eleanor, not till ten years later.
Ā Ā At the time at which we introduce him to our readers
he was living as precentor at Barchester with his youngest
daughter, then twenty-four years of age; having been many years a
widower, and having married his eldest daughter to a son of the
bishop a very short time before his installation to the office of
precentor.
Ā Ā Scandal at Barchester affirmed that had it not been
for the beauty of his daughter, Mr Harding would have remained a
minor canon, but here probably Scandal lied, as she so often does;
for even as a minor canon no one had been more popular among his
reverend brethren in the close than Mr Harding; and Scandal, before
she had reprobated Mr Harding for being made precentor by his
friend the bishop, had loudly blamed the bishop for having so long
omitted to do something for his friend Mr Harding. Be this as it
may, Susan Harding, some twelve years since, had married the Rev.
Dr Theophilus Grantly, son of the bishop, archdeacon of Barchester,
and rector of Plumstead Episcopi, and her father became, a few
months later, precentor of Barchester Cathedral, that office being,
as is not usual, in the bishop's gift.
Ā Ā Now there are peculiar circumstances connected with
the precentorship which must be explained. In the year 1434 there
died at Barchester one John Hiram, who had made money in the town
as a wool-stapler, and in his will he left the house in which he
died and certain meadows and closes near the town, still called
Hiram's Butts, and Hiram's Patch, for the support of twelve
superannuated wool-carders, all of whom should have been born and
bred and spent their days in Barchester; he also appointed that an
alms-house should be built for their abode, with a fitting
residence for a warden, which warden was also to receive a certain
sum annually out of the rents of the said butts and patches. He,
moreover, willed, having had a soul alive to harmony, that the
precentor of the cathedral should have the option of being also
warden of the almshouses, if the bishop in each case approved.
Ā Ā From that day to this the charity had gone on and
prospered - at least, the charity had gone on, and the estates had
prospered. Wool-carding in Barchester there was no longer any; so
the bishop, dean, and warden, who took it in turn to put in the old
men, generally appointed some hangers-on of their own; worn-out
gardeners, decrepit grave-diggers, or octogenarian sextons, who
thankfully received a comfortable lodging and one shilling and
fourpence a day, such being the stipend to which, under the will of
John Hiram, they were declared to be entitled. Formerly, indeed -
that is, till within some fifty years of the present time - they
received but sixpence a day, and their breakfast and dinner was
found them at a common table by the warden, such an arrangement
being in stricter conformity with the absolute wording of old
Hiram's will: but this was thought to be inconvenient, and to suit
the tastes of neither warden nor bedesmen, and the daily one
shilling and fourpence was substituted with the common consent of
all parties, including the bishop and the corporation of
Barchester. Such was the condition of Hiram's twelve old men when
Mr Harding was appointed warden; but if they may be considered as
well-to-do in the world according to their condition, the happy
warden was much more so. The patches and butts which, in John
Hiram's time, produced hay or fed cows, were now covered with rows
of houses; the value of the property had gradually increased from
year to year and century to century, and was now presumed by those
who knew anything about it, to bring in a very nice income; and by
some who knew nothing about it, to have increased to an almost
fabulous extent.
Ā Ā The property was farmed by a gentleman in
Barchester, who also acted as the bishop's steward - a man whose
father and grandfather had been stewards to the bishops of
Barchester, and farmers of John Hiram's estate. The Chadwicks had
earned a good name in Barchester; they had lived respected by
bishops, deans, canons, and precentors; they had been buried in the
precincts of the cathedral; they had never been known as griping,
hard men, but had always lived comfortably, maintained a good
house, and held a high position in Barchester society. The present
Mr Chadwick was a worthy scion of a worthy stock, and the tenants
living on the butts and patches, as well as those on the wide
episcopal domains of the see, were well pleased to have to do with
so worthy and liberal a steward.
Ā Ā For many, many years - records hardly tell how many,
probably from the time when Hiram's wishes had been first fully
carried out - the proceeds of the estate had been paid by the
steward or farmer to the warden, and by him divided among the
bedesmen; after which division he paid himself such sums as became
his due. Times had been when the poor warden got nothing but his
bare house, for the patches had been subject to floods, and the
land of Barchester butts was said to be unproductive; and in these
hard times the warden was hardly able to make out the daily dole
for his twelve dependents. But by degrees things mended; the
patches were drained, and cottages began to rise upon the butts,
and the wardens, with fairness enough, repaid themselves for the
evil days gone by. In bad times the poor men had had their due, and
therefore in good times they could expect no more. In this manner
the income of the warden had increased; the picturesque house
attached to the hospital had been enlarged and adorned, and the
office had become one of the most coveted of the snug clerical
sinecures attached to our church. It was now wholly in the bishop's
gift, and though the dean and chapter, in former days, made a stand
on the subject, they had thought it more conducive to their honour
to have a rich precentor appointed by the bishop, than a poor one
appointed by themselves. The stipend of the precentor of Barchester
was eighty pounds a year. The income arising from the wardenship of
the hospital was eight hundred, besides the value of the house.
Murmurs, very slight murmurs, had been heard in Barchester - few
indeed, and far between - that the proceeds of John Hiram's
property had not been fairly divided: but they can hardly be said
to have been of such a nature as to have caused uneasiness to
anyone: still the thing had been whispered, and Mr Harding had
heard it. Such was his character in Barchester, so universal was
his popularity, that the very fact of his appointment would have
quieted louder whispers than those which had been heard; but Mr
Harding was an open-handed, just-minded man, and feeling that there
might be truth in what had been said, he had, on his instalment,
declared his intention of adding twopence a day to each man's
pittance, making a sum of sixty-two pounds eleven shillings and
fourpence, which he was to pay out of his own pocket. In doing so,
however, he distinctly and repeatedly observed to the men, that
though he promised for himself, he could not promise for his
successors, and that the extra twopence could only be looked on as
a gift from himself, and not from the trust. The bedesmen, however,
were most of them older than Mr Harding, and were quite satisfied
with the security on which their extra income was based.
Ā Ā This munificence on the part of Mr Harding had not
been unopposed. Mr Chadwick had mildly but seriously dissuaded him
from it; and his strong-minded son-in-law, the archdeacon, the man
of whom alone Mr Harding stood in awe, had urgently, nay,
vehemently, opposed so impolitic a concession: but the warden had
made known his intention to the hospital before the archdeacon had
been able to interfere, and the deed was done.
Ā Ā Hiram's Hospital, as the retreat is called, is a
picturesque building enough, and shows the correct taste with which
the ecclesiastical architects of those days were imbued. It stands
on the banks of the little river, which flows nearly round the
cathedral close, being on the side furthest from the town. The
London road crosses the river by a pretty one-arched bridge, and,
looking from this bridge, the stranger will see the windows of the
old men's rooms, each pair of windows separated by a small
buttress. A broad gravel walk runs between the building and the
river, which is always trim and cared for; and at the end of the
walk, under the parapet of the approach to the bridge, is a large
and well-worn seat, on which, in mild weather, three or four of
Hiram's bedesmen are sure to be seen seated. Beyond this row of
buttresses, and further from the bridge, and also further from the
water which here suddenly bends, are the pretty oriel windows of Mr
Harding's house, and his well-mown lawn. The entrance to the
hospital is from the London road, and is made through a ponderous
gateway under a heavy stone arch, unnecessary, one would suppose,
at any time, for the protection of twelve old men, but greatly
conducive to the good appearance of Hiram's charity. On passing
through this portal, never closed to anyone from 6 A.M. till 10
P.M., and never open afterwards, except on application to a huge,
intricately hung mediaeval bell, the handle of which no uninitiated
intruder can possibly find, the six doors of the old men's abodes
are seen, and beyond them is a slight iron screen, through which
the more happy portion of the Barchester elite pass into the
Elysium of Mr Harding's dwelling.
Ā Ā Mr Harding is a small man, now verging on sixty
years, but bearing few of the signs of age; his hair is rather
grizzled, though not gray; his eye is very mild, but clear and
bright, though the double glasses which are held swinging from his
hand, unless when fixed upon his nose, show that time has told upon
his sight; his hands are delicately white, and both hands and feet
are small; he always wears a black frock coat, black knee-breeches,
and black gaiters, and somewhat scandalises some of his more
hyperclerical brethren by a black neck-handkerchief.
Ā Ā Mr Harding's warmest admirers cannot say that he was
ever an industrious man; the circumstances of his life have not
called on him to be so; and yet he can hardly be called an idler.
Since his appointment to his precentorship, he has published, with
all possible additions of vellum, typography, and gilding, a
collection of our ancient church music, with some correct
dissertations on Purcell, Crotch, and Nares. He has greatly
improved the choir of Barchester, which, under his dominion, now
rivals that of any cathedral in England. He has taken something
more than his fair share in the cathedral services, and has played
the violoncello daily to such audiences as he could collect, or,
faute de mieux, to no audience at all.
Ā Ā We must mention one other peculiarity of Mr Harding.
As we have before stated, he has an income of eight hundred a year,
and has no family but his one daughter; and yet he is never quite
at ease in money matters. The vellum and gilding of 'Harding's
Church Music' cost more than any one knows, except the author, the
publisher, and the Rev. Theophilus Grantly, who allows none of his
father-in-law's extravagances to escape him. Then he is generous to
his daughter, for whose service he keeps a small carriage and pair
of ponies. He is, indeed, generous to all, but especially to the
twelve old men who are in a peculiar manner under his care. No
doubt with such an income Mr Harding should be above the world, as
the saying is; but, at any rate, he is not above Archdeacon
Theophilus Grantly, for he is always more or less in debt to his
son-in-law, who has, to a certain extent, assumed the arrangement
of the precentor's pecuniary affairs.
CHAPTER II
The Barchester Reformer Mr Harding has been now precentor of Barchester for ten years; and, alas, the murmurs respecting the proceeds of Hiram's estate are again becoming audible. It is not that any one begrudges to Mr Harding the income which he enjoys, and the comfortable place which so well becomes him; but such matters have begun to be talked of in various parts of England. Eager pushing politicians have asserted in the House of Commons, with very telling indignation, that the grasping priests of the Church of England are gorged with the wealth which the charity of former times has left for the solace of the aged, or the education of the young. The well-known case of the Hospital of St Cross has even come before the law courts of the country, and the struggles of Mr Whiston, at Rochester, have met with sympathy and support. Men are beginning to say that these things must be looked into.
Mr Harding, whose conscience in the matter is clear, and who has never felt that he had received a pound from Hiram's will to which he was not entitled, has naturally taken the part of the church in talking over these matters with his friend, the bishop, and his son-in-law, the archdeacon. The archdeacon, indeed, Dr Grantly, has been somewhat loud in the matter. He is a personal friend of the dignitaries of the Rochester Chapter, and has written letters in the public press on the subject of that turbulent Dr Whiston, which, his admirers think, must wellnigh set the question at rest. It is also known at Oxford that he is the author of the pamphlet signed 'Sacerdos' on the subject of the Earl of Guildford and St Cross, in which it is so clearly argued that the manners of the present times do not admit of a literal adhesion to the very words of the founder's will, but that the interests of the church for which the founder was so deeply concerned are best consulted in enabling its bishops to reward those shining lights whose services have been most signally serviceable to Christianity. In answer to this, it is asserted that Henry de Blois, founder of St Cross, was not greatly interested in the welfare of the reformed church, and that the masters of St Cross, for many years past, cannot be called shining lights in the service of Christianity; it is, however, stoutly maintained, and no doubt felt, by all the archdeacon's friends, that his logic is conclusive, and has not, in fact, been answered.
With such a tower of strength to back both his arguments and his conscience, it may be imagined that Mr Harding has never felt any compunction as to receiving his quarterly sum of two hundred pounds. Indeed, the subject has never presented itself to his mind in that shape. He has talked not unfrequently, and heard very much about the wills of old founders and the incomes arising from their estates, during the last year or two; he did even, at one moment, feel a doubt (since expelled by his son-in-law's logic) as to whether Lord Guildford was clearly entitled to receive so enormous an income as he does from the revenues of St Cross; but that he himself was overpaid with his modest eight hundred pounds - he who, out of that, voluntarily gave up sixty-two pounds eleven shillings and fourpence a year to his twelve old neighbours - he who, for the money, does his precentor's work as no precentor has done it before, since Barchester Cathedral was built, - such an idea has never sullied his quiet, or disturbed his conscience.
Nevertheless, Mr Harding is becoming uneasy at the rumour which he knows to prevail in Barchester on the subject. He is aware that, at any rate, two of his old men have been heard to say, that if everyone had his own, they might each have their hundred pounds a year, and live like gentlemen, instead of a beggarly one shilling and sixpence a day; and that they had slender cause to be thankful for a miserable dole of twopence, when Mr Harding and Mr Chadwick, between them, ran away with thousands of pounds which good old John Hiram never intended for the like of them. It is the ingratitude of this which stings Mr Harding. One of this discontented pair, Abel Handy, was put into the hospital by himself; he had been a stone-mason in Barchester, and had broken his thigh by a fall from a scaffolding, while employed about the cathedral; and Mr Harding had given him the first vacancy in the hospital after the occurrence, although Dr Grantly had been very anxious to put into it an insufferable clerk of his at Plumstead Episcopi, who had lost all his teeth, and whom the archdeacon hardly knew how to get rid of by other means. Dr Grantly has not forgotten to remind Mr Harding how well satisfied with his one-and-sixpence a day old Joe Mutters would have been, and how injudicious it was on the part of Mr Harding to allow a radical from the town to get into the concern. Probably Dr Grantly forgot at the moment, that the charity was intended for broken-down journeymen of Barchester.
There is living at Barchester, a young man, a surgeon, named John Bold, and both Mr Harding and Dr Grantly are well aware that to him is owing the pestilent rebellious feeling which has shown itself in the hospital; yes, and the renewal, too, of that disagreeable talk about Hiram's estates which is now again prevalent in Barchester. Nevertheless, Mr Harding and Mr Bold are acquainted with each other; we may say, are friends, considering the great disparity in their years. Dr Grantly, however, has a holy horror of the impious demagogue, as on one occasion he called Bold, when speaking of him to the precentor; and being a more prudent far-seeing man than Mr Harding, and possessed of a stronger head, he already perceives that this John Bold will work great trouble in Barchester. He considers that he is to be regarded as an enemy, and thinks that he should not be admitted into the camp on anything like friendly terms. As John Bold will occupy much of our attention we must endeavour to explain who he is, and why he takes the part of John Hiram's bedesmen.
John Bold is a young surgeon, who passed many of his boyish years at Barchester. His father was a physician in the city of London, where he made a moderate fortune, which he invested in houses in that city. The Dragon of Wantly inn and posting- house belonged to him, also four shops in the High Street, and a moiety of the new row of genteel villas (so called in the advertisements), built outside the town just beyond Hiram's Hospital. To one of these Dr Bold retired to spend the evening of his life, and to die; and here his son John spent his holidays, and afterwards his Christmas vacation when he went from school to study surgery in the London hospitals. Just as John Bold was entitled to write himself surgeon and apothecary, old Dr Bold died, leaving his Barchester property to his son, and a certain sum in the three per cents. to his daughter Mary, who is some four or five years older than her brother.
John Bold determined to settle himself at Barchester, and look after his own property, as well as the bones and bodies of such of his neighbours as would call upon him for assistance in their troubles. He therefore put up a large brass plate with 'John Bold, Surgeon' on it, to the great disgust of the nine practitioners who were already trying to get a living out of the bishop, dean, and canons; and began house-keeping with the aid of his sister. At this time he was not more than twenty- four years old; and though he has now been three years in Barchester, we have not heard that he has done much harm to the nine worthy practitioners. Indeed, their dread of him has died away; for in three years he has not taken three fees.
Nevertheless, John Bold is a clever man, and would, with practice, be a clever surgeon; but he has got quite into another line of life. Having enough to live on, he has not been forced to work for bread; he has declined to subject himself to what he calls the drudgery of the profession, by which, I believe, he means the general work of a practising surgeon; and has found other employment. He frequently binds up the bruises and sets the limbs of such of the poorer classes as profess his way of thinking - but this he does for love. Now I will not say that the archdeacon is strictly correct in stigmatising John Bold as a demagogue, for I hardly know how extreme must be a man's opinions before he can be justly so called; but Bold is a strong reformer. His passion is the reform of all abuses; state abuses, church abuses, corporation abuses (he has got himself elected a town councillor of Barchester, and has so worried three consecutive mayors, that it became somewhat difficult to find a fourth), abuses in medical practice, and general abuses in the world at large. Bold is thoroughly sincere in his patriotic endeavours to mend mankind, and there is something to be admired in the energy with which he devotes himself to remedying evil and stopping injustice; but I fear that he is too much imbued with the idea that he has a special mission for reforming. It would be well if one so young had a little more diffidence himself, and more trust in the honest purposes of others - if he could be brought to believe that old customs need not necessarily be evil, and that changes may possibly be da...