Free The Fall of Doctor Onslow by Frances Vernon Page B

idea. Yes, he is exactly what we need – another bishop prepared to spend his time taking those who disagree with his views to law with all possible publicity.’
    ‘You are quite right, he would be a second Philpotts,’ said Dr Tait, who appeared to have taken Primrose’s suggestion seriously. ‘I hope we are spared – but in all honesty I cannot think it likely the question will arise.’
    ‘I suppose now that he has been vindicated by the judicial committee there will be no holding him even in Convocation, one dreads to think what he might do in the House of Lords,’ said Primrose.
    ‘I heard that his parishioners dragged his carriage home themselves after the decision,’ said Onslow. ‘Is it true, or a mere rumour?’
    ‘True, I believe,’ replied Dr Tait. ‘I sincerely wish the prosecution had never been begun – he has been made to look a martyr to Low Church and dissenting bigotry, and nothing could be more unfortunate.’
    ‘No, indeed!’ said the young clergyman.
    Primrose said happily: ‘But I am so glad that in spite of the legal decision in his favour the purely doctrinal question remains effectively undecided. I don’t mean that I have the least sympathy with the Archdeacon’s view of the sacrament or anything else, but latitude is the glory of the Church of England – exactly the view he was trying to combat, of course.’
    Dr Tait saw that Onslow was frowning, and said:
    ‘Do you like matters to be a little more clear-cut, Dr Onslow?’
    In general, Onslow did: but he was glad that thanks to the muddled case of Archdeacon Denison, it was now possible to hold that the sacrament could be inwardly received by the wicked as well as the faithful. Though he doubted its Anglican legitimacy, that view was a comfort to him. He told Dr Tait:
    ‘It comes of having been a schoolmaster for fourteen years. Latitude and lessons do not mix well – one learns to demand exactness in all things.’
    ‘Oh come,’ said Primrose, ‘in Dr Arnold’s case latitude and lessons mixed perfectly.’
    ‘Martin,’ said Onslow suddenly, ‘do you never think that even Dr Arnold had his faults?’
    ‘Faults?’ said Primrose.
    Since the beginning of Primrose’s visit to Charton two weeks before, Onslow had listened to constant praise of Arnold, and had agreed with every word of it.
    ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Consider his temper – remember March.’
    March was a boy whom Arnold had flogged harshly and unjustly in 1832; a scandal had been made of the case in the newspapers.
    ‘But – think how noble was his apology, his public apology to him when he discovered he had not lied and it was all a dreadful mistake! The Northampton Herald took up the case out of dislike for his politics – you cannot deny it!’ exclaimed Primrose.
    Onslow looked at the decanter in front of him.
    ‘No, I don’t deny it. But he had no business to lose his temper in such a way. A flogging of eighteen strokes is impermissible in even the worst cases.’ Like Arthur’s incorrigible idleness, he thought, and flushed. The light in the room was too dim for others to notice his changed complexion.
    ‘I agree with you,’ said Dr Tait.
    ‘I am glad of it,’ Onslow told him.
    ‘None of us is perfect,’ said Primrose unwillingly. ‘And a hasty temper is a very natural failing – his nature was passionate, not cold like –’ He stopped: he had been about to say ‘like yours’. Onslow guessed it, and his lips twisted in a kind of smile. After a moment’s pause, he said, finishing his port:
    ‘You must not think I do not reverence him as I ever did. I have tried not to share his faults, but I do not share his virtues either – and if I could only have the half of them, I would willingly have ten times his faults. Believe me.’
    ‘I believe you,’ said Primrose.
    One of the laymen, a member of Parliament, said:
    ‘I was a fag at Rugby when you and Dr Onslow were in the Sixth, Mr Primrose. A very grubby urchin! I lived in mortal