CHAPTER XLI

THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY--QUEEN ALEXANDRA

When the Radical rages against the House of Lords he commonly selects as the most deserving object of his wrath the Lords Spiritual. Wicked as the Lords Temporal are, their episcopal comrades are more wicked still. This is, or was, more peculiarly the Nonconformist point of view. A Dissenter exists in order to hate a Bishop. He hates him as a rival in religion; a successful rival. He hates him as the visible sign of that social ascendancy of the Church which is to the Dissenter not less odious than its political and ecclesiastical primacy.

He hates him also because he is rich, or is supposed to be so. The Archbishop of Canterbury's £15,000 a year, his Palace at Lambeth, and his Old Palace at Canterbury are all alike to the true Dissenter so many proofs of the Devil's handiwork. The Archbishop of York is a sinner of less degree only because his Devil's pension is less by £5000 a year. The Bishop of London has the same salary as the Archbishop of York, and his iniquity, though he is only a Bishop, is therefore {390} the same. There is, then, a descending scale of financial depravity. Beginning, next after London, with the Bishop of Durham at £7000, we come to the Bishop of Ely with £5500, the Bishops of Oxford, of Bath and Wells, and of Salisbury with £5000 each, and so, by easy stages of lessening vice, to the pauper Bishop of Sodor and Man who gets but a pittance of £1500 a year.

Our Dissenting friend waxes hotter as he reflects that one Archbishop is paid three times as much as a Prime Minister, and the other twice as much, while three or four more Bishops receive stipends larger than the present colleague of Mr. Lloyd-George and Mr. Winston Churchill. These episcopal salaries are even higher than is that of Mr. Lloyd-George, or that of Mr. Winston Churchill, who has to content himself with £5000 a year while discharging not a few of the duties of the Prime Minister, on the platform and, if all reports be true, in the Cabinet itself.

This, perhaps, is rather incidental. I was explaining why the Dissenter hates the Bishop. The attitude of the Bishops to the vital question of Education augments the animosity of the Dissenter. Their conservatism in general politics inflames their opponents still further. To the Nonconformist orator they are an unfailing target, and he ought to be very much obliged to them for supplying him with ammunition, but is not. Mr. Bright thundered against them and their "adulterous origin." Mr. Bright's wrath, whether rightly directed or {391} not, was in itself a noble thing; the passion of a great soul greatly stirred.

Just at present the Bishops are a little less obnoxious to the Radical than usual, because they followed the Radical lead on the Licensing Bill. That Bill evoked animosities not less bitter than the Education Bill. The Bishops made it a question of temperance, holding that by higher licensing fees and heavier taxes on public-houses and on liquor the consumption of spirits would be lessened. They argued that if there were fewer public-houses there would be fewer drinkers and drunkards. They applauded Mr. Asquith when he proposed that on Sundays a man should walk six miles before he could have a glass of beer; for that is what the _bona fide_ traveller clause came to. If they had the influence with their fellow-Peers they are supposed to have they could have prevented the rejection of the Licensing Bill. But they could not do that. Then the Radicals turned on them because they could not control a House where their very presence is to the Radical a continuing offence. "The Brewers are stronger than the Bishops!" cried the Radical, to whose happiness a victim of one kind or another is essential.

The Archbishop of Canterbury led his brethren of the Episcopal Bench in this matter of Temperance, as he has led them on other matters. He is their natural leader. He is the Primate of all England; the Head of the Church, next after the King. His abilities and character are of a kind to fit him for leadership. I suppose it may sound {392} like a paradox if I suggest that for him who holds the highest ecclesiastical post in the land the first requisite is that he should be a man of the world. But it is true, and it is equally true of all Bishops. It was true of the late Bishop Potter, who was not only the most eminent dignitary of the American Episcopal Church, but almost the first citizen of New York. The Bishops have to administer each his own diocese, and a diocese is a province. They must understand how to govern. They must understand men and, so far as possible, women. They must be men of affairs. Whether they know much Greek or Hebrew is of quite secondary importance. Knowledge of that kind is ornamental; the other kind is essential. They ought to be diplomatists also; skilled not so much in controversy as in avoiding controversy.

The present Archbishop is all this. His public career proves it, and if you come to know him he will leave a very distinct personal impression on your mind. It was my fortune to meet him at Dalmeny House not many years ago, while he was still Bishop of Winchester. His visit lasted some days, and there have not been many days more interesting. Except for his clothes, and perhaps for a certain sweetness of manner, you need not have supposed him to be a Bishop. He did not talk shop. He talked as others talk who are not of the Church. At once you saw he was broad-minded. I do not use the word broad in its ecclesiastical sense. There was not a suggestion of the apostolic or missionary attitude. That {393} was for another place and other circumstances. _Nihil humani_ might have been his motto, if he had a motto. He talked well, clearly, picturesquely, and in the tone which any guest in a country house might use. He did not require you to remember that he was a Bishop, or even a priest. He was just himself. His knowledge and good sense and felicity of thought and speech were his own.

Queen Alexandra came to tea. The Archbishop, as the Rev. Randall Davidson, had been for eight years Dean of Windsor, and naturally had seen much of the Royal Family. I suppose I may say that he had in time become a trusted friend of the Queen, perhaps her most trusted adviser. People who opposed his promotion called him a courtier, as any man who lives much in the atmosphere of courts may be. It was easy to see from the Queen's manner how much she liked the Bishop and looked to him for counsel. If a point were in question, it was to him she turned. The Princess Victoria was with the Queen, and there too was a friendship.

Those were days when affairs in the United States were in a critical state, or seemed to be, and when we were beginning to think that the good-will of other countries might be important to us; as it was, and always will be, as ours is to them. So I hope I shall not do amiss if I repeat now a word which the Queen then said to me:

"I hope all the news from your own country is good. We all hope that."

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That expressed the Queen's personal, womanly sympathy, and something more. Far gone were the days when English sympathies were for our enemies. They are now for us, and Queen Victoria was our friend and Queen Alexandra and the late King were our friends. They shared the friendship of their people. The Queen spoke for herself and for them. The Bishop stood by Her Majesty's side as she said it. His face brightened. He knew, as well as anybody, how much it meant.

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