Chapter VI: Appendix: 241 (5)

For a long time I had been trying to organise the shop-assistants in the town. Would you believe it that, even now, Portsmouth has no weekly half-holiday, no early closing? The vast majority of the better shops, in our part of the town, do not close till 7.30 the first four nights in the week, on Fridays at 10, on Saturdays at midnight. The little shops never seem to close at all, day or night. There is something particularly pitiful in the class of shop-assistants. As a rule they will not help themselves. There is very little _esprit_ amongst them, and a great deal of snobbishness. If some went on strike, their places would be filled within twenty-four hours, and one class will not mix with another. If you will not help yourself, God cannot help you, far less man. So, practically, one was fighting an impossible battle, for one or two large shopkeepers stood in the way of all reform. In the middle of the agitation, to my utter astonishment, I was told that the new minister of the Lake Road Baptist Chapel, Mr. Joseph, would be very glad to come and see me about it. I knew many of the Nonconformist ministers in the town were in sympathy with me, for several of them had written to me, when I resigned, in 1890, to say how sorry they were, and how they earnestly prayed that I would not leave Portsmouth. I felt that if Mr. Joseph was willing to stand by me, not only on the platform of shop-assistants, but with regard to the drink question too, I had indeed gained a most important ally. The congregation at Lake Road has more men in it than any church in Portsmouth--surely that is the best test of a Christian Church--and I knew that their minister was a true representative of his congregation. After many talks with him and some of his brethren, there was no doubt at all left in our minds that the Drink Question lay at the root of every evil in Portsmouth. With a population of 159,255 we had 1040 licences, or one licence to 153 people; or, deducting infants and total abstainers, 25 per cent. of the population, one licence for every 115 people. This is enormously above the average of almost all the large towns in England, the great seaport towns, or even the other Dockyard towns. In several Bills for the revision of the Licensing Question, submitted to Parliament, it has been proposed that licences should be granted in towns in the ratio of one per thousand; that would mean the reduction of licences, in Portsmouth, from one thousand and forty to one hundred and sixty.

I have no quarrel with the publican. I have known many of them to be the most respectable people, whose righteous souls were vexed, day by day, by the circumstances under which they and their children were forced to live; and yet, because they had invested their little all in a public-house, they had no other chance of a livelihood. In Portsmouth, too, the publican seems to suffer far more than in other towns, for the transfers are much more frequent--that is, a man invests his savings in a public-house, finds it does not pay, and has oftentimes to leave it, realising very little of the money which he put into it. Almost all the houses in Portsmouth are tied houses--that is, the publican has to sell, exclusively, the beer of the brewer who owns the house; and if he does not sell a sufficient quantity he is soon reminded of it, for the brewer’s profit is far more largely made out of the profits from the beer than from the rent of the house. There is only a certain amount of legitimate drinking in any town--that is, drinking because a man actually needs the drink. If the drinking were limited to this, an enormous number of houses would close without any interference of the magistrate. And so the publican has to do all sorts and kinds of things to induce men to stay in his house and drink. Everyone knows that there are innumerable ways of adulterating or faking up drink; that, if gambling and betting are allowed, men will congregate; that, if bad characters fill the bar, certain men will stay there; that, if the singing of vulgar songs is allowed, it is a great attraction, and makes men who roar the choruses all the more thirsty. Many publicans, of course, are too high-minded to employ these methods; but many who see starvation facing themselves and their children, do use them. Needs must when the devil drives; and certainly, in this case, the devil is the driver. Then it is very hard to refuse drink to a man who has already had too much, not only because you lose the price of the glass, but very likely his custom, as well as his friends’. However diligent and efficient the police are, it is utterly impossible for them to see that every public-house is conducted on legitimate lines. A large public-house, with a big trade and hardly any seats, where people take their drink and go out again, does, comparatively speaking, little harm. In towns with slums like Portsmouth, nearly all the harm is done by the little public-house. And these little houses are not scattered over the whole town; they are gathered, as a rule, into little districts. In Portsmouth proper, for instance, with a population of 6933, there are 75 public-houses; in Portsea, with a population of 15,260, there are 145. And these are really the diseased spots which fester and corrupt, where germs of every kind of disease collect--the places where our soldiers and sailors mostly spend their time. And the public-house is never by itself. Close to it--perhaps on either side of it--are houses of shame and evil. I would to God that the doctors in the naval and military hospitals could let their opinion of these places be known by the thinking people in England.

At any rate, I soon discovered that the Nonconformist ministers were only too anxious to move with me, with a view to drawing attention to these and other evils, which we considered to be a perpetual menace to the true health of our town. And then, to my greater joy, I found that Canon Jacob, and many of the Church clergy, too, were most anxious to join in the matter, and in a short time a Vigilance Committee had been appointed, which practically represented all that was best in every church and chapel, trade and profession, in the town of Portsmouth. Canon Jacob, who has since become Bishop of Newcastle, was elected chairman of that Committee, and I have never known anyone discharge duties--very difficult duties--with greater tact and earnestness.

On March 15th, 1894, the Town Council received a deputation from the Vigilance Committee upon the state of the streets in the town, and the Watch Committee, to whom the questions were referred, gave instructions to the Chief Constable, and the effect in a very short time was very manifest. The outward visible signs of the evil largely disappeared, and it was quite possible for people to walk through the streets without having their ears filled with the most disgusting language, and their sense of shame continually wounded. The lighting too of many streets, and especially of Southsea Common, by electricity, had a most desirable effect. But the real gain of the whole question was a deepening, in the minds of thoughtful men, of their duty in seeing that the authorities of the town did all that lay in their power to prevent temptation being forced on unwilling persons, and to make it possible for any lad or girl to go through any of the streets without being molested. When the town realises this duty, the authorities will soon see that that which is necessary is done.

On 18th August, 1894, the Society presented to the Licensing Justices an Open Letter, from which I have already quoted some statistics. This letter, at any rate, convinced the people of two facts: first, that the public-houses were altogether out of proportion to the population; secondly, that practically the monopoly of the drink traffic was held by a very few firms of brewers. When first I went to Portsmouth, and discovered how very undesirable many of the public-houses in my district were, I realised that it was utterly impossible that the brewers could know the character of the places in which their money was made, and I was particularly anxious that they should send their wives, or a lady of their acquaintance, dressed simply, to stay in their public-houses from 8.30 till the closing hour. I was told that this was an utterly preposterous demand. I cannot for the life of me see why it should be. The brewer makes his money, which his wife spends, out of the public-house. It is of vital importance that he should see, through the eyes of someone he can trust, how the money is made. If it is a place where he will not allow his wife to go, surely it is not a place where he wishes any other man’s wife to go, or indeed any woman’s husband, or indeed any other man or woman. And that is just the point I have never been able to understand about brewers. Many of them are most religious, excellent men, many of them even philanthropists, and doubtless these do see that all their public-houses are well-conducted. Some brewers say to me, “So long as the police do not interfere, it is no business of mine.” But surely that is not a true basis on which to work. The publican is the servant of the brewer, very often the tied and bound servant, and the brewer has no more right to make a penny out of a house where there is any wrong going on, than he has to steal. I am perfectly sure that, if every brewer, putting aside for a moment his business manager and agent, would make either in his own person, or in the person of someone whom he really trusts and whom the publican does not know, an examination of his own houses, many of them would be shut up.

In Lent, 1894, I was asked to preach in London on the subject of sailors, and I expressed pretty freely my own views, saying that most naval towns, Portsmouth among them, were sinks of iniquity. I had said the same thing over and over again in Portsmouth, and so I was utterly astonished when I arrived at the railway station, on my return, to discover the extraordinary storm my words had created. Underlying all this righteous indignation there was a certain amount of selfishness. Southsea, the favoured infant of the Corporation, for whose sake Kingston and Landport are sometimes starved, was endangered. If these words preached in London, and reported throughout the kingdom in the public press, were believed, it might hinder the influx of visitors, and so injure hotels, boarding-houses, and shopkeepers. When a scare from want of proper drainage or water has injured a health resort, is it wiser to try and hush the matter up, and blame the man who has dragged the nuisance to light, or to cure the nuisance, and render the town really healthy? That was the question which the Mayor ought to have answered, though, indeed, that part of it had never entered into my head. I only wanted to make England at large realise the cruel injury which was done to her noblest and best sons by the depravity which reigns in those very spots where, for her sake, the truest and noblest of her children are compelled to live. The Mayor’s defence of the town was most splendid. I venture to copy a few words from one of his speeches.

* * * * *

“After this stigma has been thrown upon us, I have considered it
my duty, within the last twenty-four hours, to visit that part
of the town which has been spoken of so much--for there is no
doubt what part was meant in this gentleman’s sermon. I started
last night at 9.40, in company with an inspector of police, and
I have in my hand a report which I shall be pleased to hand to
the rev. gentleman. I visited 50 public-houses and beerhouses
in the worst part of the borough, between the hours of 9.40 and
11 p.m. At each house I took the number of persons drinking, or
sitting down, or talking, and in the 50 houses there were 460
men and women. Where would you send these people to? Are you
going to let them walk about in the streets? The upper ten can
afford to belong to a club, and may not the working man go and
have his glass of beer and enjoy it? In the whole of these 50
houses I may tell you--and tell you honestly, because I have two
witnesses to corroborate what I say--there was not one drunken
man on the premises, and during the time we were out we saw in
the streets only one man who was “jolly,” and we cannot say he
was drunk. Surely with 10,000 sailors in port and nearly 6000
troops in garrison, I am not saying too much when I say we are
proud of our town. And I feel I must compliment the brewers
and the occupiers of public-houses and beerhouses of the town
for the admirable manner in which those houses are conducted.
Do not let it go forth that I just opened the doors and looked
in. We went into the bars, the taprooms, and the singing-rooms,
and there was nothing whatever that any man need be ashamed of
seeing. I maintain that if the rev. gentleman or anyone else
would only take the trouble, as I did last night, to go round
to these houses and see the way in which they are conducted, we
should have no trouble in removing in a moment the scandal and
stigma which has been thrown on this borough. You may leave the
matter in the hands of your representatives, and I feel sure
that they will uphold the dignity of the ancient borough of
Portsmouth and look after your interests, and that they will do
all they can, as they have done before, to answer those who talk
to draw money to raise churches and other buildings. We have
to determine in our own minds whether this sermon, to which I
have referred, was preached in order to raise money to build a
church; if so, I would say that I should be sorry to go and pray
in a church built from money raised by stigmatising a town as
this clergyman has done.”

I was threatened with a public indignation meeting in the Town Hall. I only wish that Mr. Joseph and myself had had the chance of addressing such a meeting. We wanted to ask the Mayor whether there was any other town in England in which, between the hours of 9.40 p.m. and 11 p.m.--that is eighty minutes--fifty public-houses could be entered, let alone thoroughly visited; whether he knew anything of the character of the houses which he passed in going from public to public; whether it could be desirable for the inhabitants to have so many licensed premises so close together; and whether he believed that there were fifty other publics anywhere in England which, at that hour in the evening, were without people whom he would call “jolly.” Surely his defence was the very best proof possible of my allegation. However, the public meeting never came off; discretion was the better part of valour.

I believe myself that the row did the town a great deal of good, and I am thankful to think that when I left it two years after I received from all kinds and sorts of people the most appreciative letters, one of the very kindest being from one of the largest brewers. There is one splendid thing about English rows, that, though we hit as hard as ever we can, we do not seem to bear any malice. I hope everyone will believe that it was with the purest intention of trying to remedy evils, the removal of which will only make Portsmouth more glorious, a better home for our soldiers and sailors, a more attractive spot in which to make all patriotic Englishmen learn to value the magnificence of their own country, that I spoke every word that I ventured to say.

XI.

=Our Battles Ecclesiastical.=

It has been easy to write of our battles with the brewers and brothel-keepers, for their attacks were in the open; but of our battles with our Bishops it is much more difficult to write, there being a dread in my own mind whether I have been able to judge perfectly fairly concerning their attitude towards us. And therefore I think it right to print in full the whole of the last correspondence between the Bishop of Winchester and myself, as nothing would distress me more than to put a wrong interpretation upon his action. Before I came there had been in the public press, and even at meetings, very violent attacks made upon Dr. Linklater. Portsmouth is a very Protestant town, and I had not been in it a week before I discovered that one must expect many attacks. Almost every week there were several very angry letters in the local press, and from time to time a big indignation meeting. The Protestant Hall had just been built, and it was evidently felt that it was a pity not to use it. But the letters and the meetings were about on an equality of common sense and charity, and I am quite sure we pursued the right method in never answering such attacks upon us. Sometimes the attack would be about ritual, sometimes about doctrine. I tried as far as I could in instructions in church to explain everything we did, but I do not suppose our opponents cared to come to our church, and therefore they were not benefited. I have often since then thanked God for this opposition, because it was the reason why we took such pains with our own people.

I felt, however, that upon some subjects, like Confession, very plain words must be spoken. Of course, amongst the boys and men in a parish like ours, it was the most needed of all church discipline, and it was just the one upon which the most horrid and untruthful things were being said. So I took heart of grace, and advertised throughout the town that on Sunday afternoon I would preach on the subject of Confession to men alone. I think I felt a little nervous, when I got into church and found it crammed from end to end, men even standing in the aisles, but I found that the vast majority, at any rate, were prepared to give me fair play, and they soon silenced those who had come merely to create a disturbance. I think what astonished them most was to hear that Confessions were heard in public, and that anybody who pleased could be in church at the time. I showed them exactly where the priest sat and where the penitent knelt, and I remember quite well saying, “If any of you, while coming from your work on Friday afternoon, look in, you will very likely see me hear a Confession.” Accepting my advice, on the next Friday many people looked in at the door. I know that when they talked it all over in the Dockyard afterwards the verdict was arrived at, that, even if I was mistaken, I was straight and honest.

After a time, it was in 1887, we heard of a petition to the Bishop, signed at a large meeting, at which a gentleman from London had made a very violent attack on me, ending up with the magnificent peroration, “If we had a clergyman like Mr. Dolling in our neighbourhood, we would soon take him by the back of the neck, and kick him out of the parish.” Before the meeting had time to applaud this most Christian sentiment, some lad, who had got into the gallery, shouted out, “He weighs fifteen stone, and you might find it difficult.” The meeting collapsed in roars of laughter, but the petition was forwarded. I never thought for a moment that any reasonable person would have taken any notice of such proceedings, but, to my amazement, a few days afterwards I received a letter from Bishop Harold Browne, in which, beginning--“No doubt you are aware that there have been paragraphs and letters in various newspapers about your proceedings at S. Agatha’s, and that there was an indignation meeting at the ‘Protestant Hall,’ with resolutions, etc., all of which have been sent to me with strong appeals. I do not think the persons appealing to me have any _locus standi_”--he desired that I would restrain my services to “the confessedly legal ritual of the Church of England,” and also offered me the following considerations:

i. I am told that your own people generally, though attached to
you, would prefer a less pronounced ritual.

ii. I believe with good reason that those clergy in Portsea who
are doing great work in formerly neglected regions, feel that
the scare produced by advanced ritual is seriously detrimental
to them.

I wrote back that, if he ordered me, I was perfectly willing to obey the Prayer Book, and to have no other services, but that I felt my duty to my people made it incumbent upon me to impress the fact upon him that such change of services would mean a great diminution in the congregations, especially on the week-days, when the services complained of were used, and that I should like to know who had been his informant, as regards the wishes of my parish, and the opinion of my brethren in Portsmouth. His answer was, “I know that many of the clergy, by whom I certainly do not mean Mr. Young or Mr. Aldwell, regret your action, as calculated to throw suspicion upon all Church work. I do not wish to define legal ritual, but to suggest that you should be satisfied with what is purely Anglican, as sufficient for all purposes of devotion, and not liable to create suspicion, or to stir up strife. Stations of the cross, acolytes in crimson cassocks, incensing the Magnificat, and the like, certainly excite bitter animosity in an eminently Protestant town like Portsmouth. I have had no appeal from your own immediate district.”

I know many people think that ritual rows have generally been the result of a clergyman endeavouring to intrude his own methods upon an unwilling congregation, but I give these extracts from the Bishop’s letters to show that at S. Agatha’s that has never been the case. No complaint has ever come from one singleparishioner. The complaints that have come have been made either by ignorant Protestants, or by my brethren the clergy.

However, at the end of 1889, the Bishop again wrote to us on the subject of ritual, and the following letter from the Bishop of Guildford, which, though it was marked “private,” he has kindly allowed me to print, will show the five points to which the Bishop took exception.

“THE CLOSE, WINCHESTER,
“_December 9, 1889_.

“MY DEAR MR. DOLLING,

“I am looking forward with much hopefulness to our interview
with the Bishop on Thursday next. I did not go into any
particulars in reply to your letter, in which you expressed your
readiness to obey the Bishop if you were told by him to obey
the P. Book, but that that would involve your reducing your
services to a most dreary type. I am sure that on reflection
you will have seen that the Bishop could never bring himself to
make any recommendation which would bring down your services to
such a low level as you suggest. But may there not be a _via
media_? My object in writing to you, however, now (without
the Bishop’s cognisance, and, therefore, without knowing whether
he would agree with me) is to ask you whether, at his request,
you would be willing to give up using

“i. Incense at Celebrations and at the Magnificat.

ii. Service of Compline, in which, as far as I can
gather, the choir practically absolve the priest.

iii. Extempore prayer.

iv. Vespers of the Blessed Sacrament in Cope.

v. Vespers for the Dead.

“If I could think that you would be ready to meet the Bishop
with these concessions, it seems to me that you would still
have your service with all its essential ritual and beauty, with
only certain excrescences, as it seems to me, lopped off; and I
am sure that you would find our Bishop most anxious to meet you
in any way he could, and only too glad to be able to show his
appreciation of your unwearied labours in our Master’s cause. It
seemed to me so sad that there should be any misunderstanding
keeping you apart from our Bishop, that I have ventured thus
to act as a sort of go-between, and earnestly to express my
hope--nay, my prayer--that God may bring good out of our meeting
on Thursday. I am sure you will be happier in your work, if even
some things have to be given up, if you gain, on the other hand,
your Bishop’s approval of your work.

“Always I am,
“Your very faithful friend,
“GEORGE HENRY GUILDFORD.

“REV. R. DOLLING.”

In a succeeding chapter you will read the reasons why I introduced these services, and why I felt I could not possibly surrender them. The objections to Compline and extempore prayer seemed to me most extraordinary, but I am especially glad to insert the letter, because it is a proof of the great kindness with which Bishop Harold Browne and his Suffragan always treated us, and to show that even though we differed, there was never anything but the most cordial good-will between us.

I think I have said that I was in the habit of preaching to men alone on Sunday afternoons. Osborne, my fellow-priest, and I thought that the time had come now for striving to get the ear of at least some of the thousands of Dockyard-men who passed our church on week-days, and so we asked the Guild of S. Matthew to send us down a set of preachers for the six Sundays in the Lent of 1890. Mr. Stewart Headlam was the first of these preachers. Osborne and I listened to the sermon with very great attention, and we did not discover in it anything different from the lectures which he and I had been continually delivering in S. Agatha’s. To our utter astonishment we received almost immediately the letter from the Bishop which I print.

“FARNHAM CASTLE, SURREY,
“_February 28, 1890_.

“MY DEAR MR. DOLLING,

“After what passed between us here some weeks ago, I was hardly
anticipating that I should have to remonstrate with you on a
farther and far more serious cause for difference between us.

“Without any intimation to me you invite a clergyman to teach
in your chapel, who has been inhibited by his own Bishop for
teaching on the very subject on which you advertise him as a
preacher. Anything more contrary to every law of the Church
Catholic or the Church of England it is difficult to imagine.

“If the report in the newspaper be correct, he, Mr. Stewart
Headlam, delivered a highly inflammatory political address,
calculated to set class against class, and drawing down from an
excited audience frequent expressions of applause, in a building
devoted to Christian worship and called by you S. Agatha’s
Church.

“The teaching, according to _The Evening News_, was of this
kind. Mr. Headlam represented our Lord’s mission, not as
intended to lead men to heaven, nor, apparently, to convert
them to greater holiness, nor to reveal to them great spiritual
truths, nor even to set up a great _spiritual_ kingdom upon
earth; but to establish a commonwealth in which there should be
social equality and community of wealth (or poverty), from the
good-will of all the members if possible, but, if not so, then
from compulsion exercised by the many on the few.

“I have tried hard to see if the words can mean anything but
this. I cannot possibly interpret them otherwise. The evil of
such teaching appears to me incalculable. It is the substituting
of a Political Christ for the loving Saviour of the world, a
carnal kingdom for the great spiritual kingdom of the Church,
earthly hopes and aspirations for divine and heavenly, and
instead of love of the brethren springing from love of their
Lord, a great probability, at least, of a system of plunder and
terrorising such as prevailed in the French Revolution, and
has been threatened of late by Nihilists and Communists. The
theory that our Blessed Lord was a Social Reformer with a tinge
of religious fanaticism is the favourite theory of political
unbelievers. I do not mean to charge Mr. Headlam with holding
this. But his teaching plays into the hands of such. I have
always thought it to be the only theory which unbelievers can
advance, with any appearance of plausibility, to account for
the teaching and the success of Christ. The danger, therefore,
of giving standing ground for such a theory is not easily
exaggerated.

“I am not indifferent to varieties of ritual and the like; but
tapers, and incense, and red-vested acolytes, nay! Romanism,
Methodism, and any other varieties of Christian worship may be
compatible with true faith in Christ and true love to Him and
His. This so-called Christian Socialism, as exhibited in the
report of Mr. Headlam’s address, in the writings of Count Leo
Tolstoi and others, appears to me to strike at the very root of
all Christianity. I have, as you know, declined to interfere
with your proceedings, lest I should mar your Mission work. If
you are to introduce teachers of such strange doctrines into
a church or chapel, which you hold by virtue of my license, I
must consider whether the good of our Mission is not more than
neutralised by the evil of those whom you associate with you;
and whether I can suffer it to go on under my authority. I am
very sorry to write so strongly, but I dare not be indifferent.

“I am, dear Mr. Dolling,
“Very truly yours,
“G. H. WINTON.”

In my answer I tried to point out to the Bishop, first, that Mr. Headlam had never been inhibited, and, secondly, that while I would, in deference to him, have the lectures delivered in the gymnasium instead of in the church, I must protest against the way in which he had spoken of the lecturers. Several other letters passed between us, but in the meantime Canon Jacob had written to the Headmaster of Winchester (I insert a letter he wrote to me), had withdrawn his subscription from the Mission, and had written to the Bishop to say what he had done.

“PORTSEA VICARAGE,
“_March 3rd, 1890_.

“DEAR MR. DOLLING,

“I have read with much pain, in the _Hampshire Post_ and
the _Hants Telegraph_, the report of Mr. Stewart Headlam’s
sermon at S. Agatha’s. I sent a copy of the former paper on
Friday to Dr. Fearon, and told him my extreme pain at finding my
Old School Mission identified with such doctrines.

“I have gone on subscribing £1 1s. a year to your work through
the Old Wykehamist Mission, in spite of much that I could not
approve, but this has reached a limit which makes it necessary
for me to reconsider the whole position. I do not wish to take
any action inconsiderately, or without careful thought. It may
be that you have explanations to offer. But I think it right to
tell you at once that I am deeply pained to find how much you
have added to our already sad and unhappy divisions.

“I am, faithfully yours,
“EDGAR JACOB.”

I also received from the Warden of Winchester College letters of the strongest condemnation, letters, the first of which is signed “Warden,” in which he says Mr. Headlam is a Socialist in the bad sense of the word; and of myself, that, with my ultra High Church proclivities on the one hand, and Socialist teaching on the other, no sober and loyal-minded citizens can be expected to support the Mission, and that his connection with it must be severed, so long as I remained the head of it.

I felt that Canon Jacob and the Warden must be taken in a large measure to represent Wykehamical feeling, not, perhaps, just those few who knew me and S. Agatha’s well, but that large number who supported the Mission, and that, therefore, there was no alternative left me but to resign. So on Sunday morning I preached a sermon defending the line I had taken, and at the same time telling the people that I thought for peace it was better for me to leave. Never can I forget the kindness of Dr. Fearon, other Winchester masters, and old Wykehamists during the next week. Letters from all kinds and sorts of people, whom we had never heard of, came to us, hoping that we would not resign, and presently I received a letter from the Warden, in which he told me that he had only written in his private capacity, and that he did not represent either the school or anybody else but himself. I felt very strongly, too, not only the kindness of people outside, but the devotion of our people at home; and it seemed to me a plain duty that, if Winchester wished me to remain, I should do so. This duty was rendered all the more imperative by the very great desire expressed by the Bishop himself that I should remain.

As we have no legal status, the Mission not being a parish, a change of Bishops is a matter of great importance, and I looked forward with some anxiety to Bishop Thorold’s coming. So it was with much thanksgiving that I received this answer from him, soon after his appointment, to a letter of mine about confirmation.

“BUTE HOUSE, CAMPDEN HILL, W.,
“_16th January, 1891_.

“DEAR MR. DOLLING,

“I am glad to hear from you, for I have heard much of you and
your duty.

“Soon I hope to ask you here to dine and sleep, that we may
have some talk about your difficult work, which has a charm and
interest for me. We have eight such missions in South London,
and I have fostered them as with a father’s love.

“We will see about the Confirmation, but I prefer to do my work
myself, if in my power.

“When you write again, perhaps you will be able to write all
your letter yourself, ‘a lot of time’ for preparation is
scarcely classical.

“May the blessing of the Holy Spirit rest upon you, and the
sheep in the wilderness.

“Ever truly yours,
“A. W. ROFFEN.”

Dr. Harold Browne had always refused to come to S. Agatha’s, but he had allowed us to choose the Bishop who, from year to year, confirmed our people. But here was a Bishop who was not only coming himself, but who evidently was going to throw himself, heart and soul, into our work, and with the sufficient humour which just enables a man to slide over the difficulties of life. This goodness towards us, and endeavour to help us, never once ceased during the four years in which he ruled our diocese. My heart is often sorry for hard words I may have said about him.

In a week or two he asked me to stay with him in London, and we talked for many hours. He drew out from me every detail of our work, approving or disapproving, but ever ready to hear reasons, telling me quite plainly that there was much he liked, much he disliked. Especially was he interested in our schools--he thought we had been very brave in gaining them--in our house, in which he hoped soon to stay; and, above all, in our temporary church, and the manner of our memorials, the lists of soldiers, sailors, emigrants, the confirmed, and the blessed dead; and this led to explaining to him how we used the Holy Communion as our best and most prevailing intercession. He had been delighted when I told him that at our prayer meetings these names were read out, but I am quite sure that at first, at any rate, he was shocked at people coming to the celebrations for intercession and not for communion. I explained to him how impossible it was for our people to communicate frequently, the stress of their business and their ignorance making preparation very difficult; and, I think, from words he let fall, that he considered we were in some sense lowering the dignity of the Blessed Sacrament by permitting it to be used for any other purpose but communion, though he told me himself how often his best intercessions were made when he was receiving communion. This did not apply to intercessions for the dead. He evidently disbelieved in any such being beneficial to them, or helpful to the persons making them; but we prayed long in his study, after family prayers were over, and I felt that I had gained one who, whatever our differences were, would act towards me as a real father. The next morning, walking round and round his beautiful garden--a wonderful oasis in the overcrowded desert of Kensington, alas! now pulled down and turned into flats; I could almost cry as I look at it, when I pass Campden Hill each Sunday morning this Lent--he talked over the matter again and again, specially desirous that I should discontinue the Mass for the Dead, and that I should never have a celebration without communicants. I told him--I hope with all dutifulness--that these two requests were impossible; the first because I considered I was exercising one of the greatest privileges of my priesthood, and because this special office for the dead had been a wonderful help to many of our poor people--an act of real reparation for stumbling-blocks they had put in the way of companions now beyond their reach by any other method, and also because the remembrance of the dead kindles and draws out, even in the most brutish, an understanding of the supernatural, which becomes a realisation of hope otherwise impossible; the second because it would be impossible for the clergy and workers to bear the burden of toil and responsibility that rested upon us every hour of the day, if it were not for the help of those daily morning celebrations, and that the only method by which that rubric as to communicants could be obeyed, would be by compelling my workers to take turns--three on Monday, three on Tuesday, &c.--however much indisposed they might feel at the moment to make their communions. He said at once that this would be a most hateful method, and I left him knowing that we were going to continue these two things of which he disapproved; but he did not forbid them, and his last words showed me that he was fully prepared to trust us. I think what pleased him most was what he called our straightforwardness and honesty; and I thank God that neither then nor since have I ever hid anything from him.

His stay with us, when he came to confirm, very considerably deepened our mutual affection. The confirmation was to be at eight p.m. The people began to come into church at seven, according to their custom. I always delighted in this hour before the confirmation as giving an opportunity by extempore prayers, by heads for intercession, and by singing hymns, of getting the friends of the candidates into a proper frame of mind. The candidates knew exactly their places, for they had sat in them at the three previous Sunday nights’ Mission services. They knew exactly, too, in what order they were to go up to the Bishop. Many a confirmation--indeed, many a first communion too--has lost all its grace from want of preparation, not of the heart, but of the mode of reception. The Bishop had been quite hurt when he found that only a curate had been sent to meet him; but I think when he opened the west door of S. Agatha’s, and saw the church quite full, people in the aisles as well as in the seats, kneeling in humble prayer between each verse of “When I survey the wondrous cross,” he forgave me for not meeting him. In the vestry I said to him, “The service, of course, is yours. You will make whatever arrangement you like about acolytes, &c.” He asked those in red cassocks to take them off, and when I told him that a crucifix was always carried in the procession, he asked that it might be put away; but when I told him that there was one on the high altar, he said, “Oh, I shall not see that one!” No words of mine can fittingly express his tenderness towards those he confirmed. More than half of them were grown men and women, many of them, whose former lives could hardly be told about, drawn from the lowest slums by the attractive power of the Cross, with a real and true belief in the grace which they were about to receive at his hands, with a humility and yet perfect trust which the soul, conscious of its own weakness and of Christ’s power to save, alone experiences.

Meanwhile in our own house small difficulties had arisen. The Bishop, whose digestion even at that time was greatly impaired, had kindly sent us on a little sheet of paper his _menu_, headed, “What I desire to eat,” a morsel of fish, a mutton chop, a rice pudding. But he had not told us that he was going to bring a servant, and would use some particular kind of sheets. When I got in I heard that Mary was disturbed, and the disturbance of Mary was no small matter in our household, because, finding the servant putting on these sheets, her honour was grievously wounded, she deeming the Bishop thought that the beds in our house were dirty. However, things righted themselves. Our rule of common food had to be broken through, as the servant objected to meal with the Bishop, and fed somewhere by himself. One could see how utterly overtired Bishop Thorold was, but he put that altogether on one side, and evinced the kindest interest in all our inmates, until at last, when he could speak not another word, he went off to bed; and yet I never shall forget how fatigue was conquered in the long, earnest, loving intercession he offered to Almighty God for me and mine.

The next morning he examined the old church very attentively, remarked upon what he considered the ugliness of our little altar, on which there were painted in panels a priest in black vestments saying Mass for the Dead; and a soul being carried by angels into paradise; again told us he disapproved altogether of prayers for the dead, and yet more of Masses, but never said one word to forbid them, and then drove off to the garrison church, where he was going to confirm. I had looked forward with considerable dread to his coming. I knew he wanted to like us, but I was terribly afraid of the ordeal. But after the visit I believed that through his episcopate there would be nothing but peace between us. However, the enemy was not going to give us peace, and in November, 1892, we noticed a gentleman attending the children’s Mass armed with a pair of opera-glasses. I urged him to go into the front pew, where he would not have to use them, thereby disturbing the congregation. Very shortly afterwards I received from the Bishop a long document sent to him by the Protestant Alliance, and asking me particulars about the service, and to send him the children’s Mass book. On December 16th I received the following letter from him.

“FARNHAM CASTLE, SURREY,
“_December 16, 1892_.

“DEAR MR. DOLLING,

“With respect to the Sunday School Book now in use at S.
Agatha’s Mission Chapel, I do not feel that this is a moment
when I can equitably press upon you to withdraw it from use.

“My opinion, however, as to the grave inconsistency of its
contents with our Anglican standards remains unchanged, and
though it may be a matter of indifference to you, it is a matter
of real concern to me that the influence and development of
a mission conducted with such zeal and self-denial should be
in any way prejudiced in the eyes of those whose prayers and
sympathy ought not to go for nothing in your eyes, by the use
of a manual not vital to your ministrations, and but scantily
adopted in the Church.

“It is my hope and desire that you will consider the wisdom and
duty of quietly discontinuing it, when you can do so without
loss of self-respect, or feeling of giving way to ignorant
clamour; and I shall hope to hear from you before Trinity Sunday
that you have found yourself able to comply with this advice.

“Very truly yours,
“A. WINTON.”

I answered back at once, that I was quite ready to withdraw the book, and to substitute another in its place, but that for my own sake I should like to prove to him that there was no expression in it which might not be discovered in the writings of the great Anglican divines, and he wrote that he would be very glad to receive such a catena. Dear Osborne at once set to work on a library of the Anglo-Catholic Fathers, which we bought for the purpose, and submitted a defence to the Bishop. Indeed the Bishop was kind enough to ask both of us to go to Farnham. I think he was rather astonished when we arrived with a large trunk full of books, but he was very patient while Osborne, who is a theologian, which I am not, expounded out of Bramhall, Andrewes, and others, that there has been a continual witness, oftentimes on the part of the most learned prelates and authorities in the Church of England, to the right to believe and to teach within its fold the doctrine of pleading the Blessed Sacrament for the living and the dead, as was taught in the little book.

This very characteristic letter left only one course possible to us, the writing of a new book, which we did at once.

“FARNHAM CASTLE, SURREY,
“_January 21, 1893_.

“DEAR MR. DOLLING,

“I have now read, and with much interest, the extracts from the
writings of eminent Anglican divines on Eucharistic doctrine,
which you have collected with so much industry and laudable
anxiety to justify your own position.

“While I cannot admit--and in this you will doubtless concur
with me--that the _ipse dixit_ of any individual, eminent
and learned though he be, can accurately be quoted as the
mind of the Church at large, I have no wish to demur to the
authorities you quote as undeserving of great reverence and
consideration. It is also particularly agreeable to me, though
I have never expressed any doubt on the subject, to be assured
that your great desire is to be loyal to Anglican standards and
teaching, and that you have not knowingly transgressed them in
this instance.

“You will remember that on your own teaching I pronounced
no opinion whatever. It was the book used at S. Agatha’s
that seemed to deserve, and I still think deserves, my grave
remonstrance.

“After thinking it well over, I am clear that I should prefer
the withdrawal of the book, and your substituting for it one of
your own compiling. You will not be unwilling to introduce into
such a book, nor ashamed of so doing, more of the exact language
of our Prayer Book and of our Lord Himself. While it would be
inconsistent for me to sanction a book which from your own point
of view might in some of its statements widely diverge from that
I hold to be sound teaching, I could at least protect you in the
use of it. The last thing in the world I intend or desire is
to limit in the very least degree the liberty of the clergy to
hold and teach what may equitably be held to be supported and
countenanced by our standards. You know me well enough to trust
me when I say that I value your work, recognise your sacrifices,
cherish your friendship, and will gladly, so far as I can,
strengthen your hands.

“Your friend and father in God,

“A. WINTON.”

But in the meanwhile, to his astonishment as well as ours, a letter not intended for publication, which he had written to the Secretary of the Protestant Alliance, appeared in the papers:

“FARNHAM CASTLE, SURREY.

“SIR,--Since acknowledging your memorial, I have
procured and examined the S. Agatha’s Sunday School Book, and
have also referred it to one of my examining chaplains, in
whose learning and judgment I have great confidence. While I
do not consider that all the passages in it on which you have
animadverted can be accurately pronounced to be as distinctly
Roman in doctrine as you have not unreasonably conceived them to
be, the general substance of the book is, in my opinion, quite
irreconcilable with the Eucharistic teaching of the Church of
England; nay, I have no hesitation in saying that I consider the
general atmosphere and phraseology of the volume to be even more
objectionable and dangerous, than any of the precise expressions
which have caused you such intelligible offence.

“It is right, however, that I should here explain that, if I am
correctly informed, the officiating clergyman, when this book is
used, himself says nothing except what is in the Common Prayer
Book.

“At the present moment I am in correspondence with Mr. Dolling
on the subject; but I wish at once to observe that his work at
S. Agatha’s, though disfigured by errors and eccentricities,
which, in common with not a few of his truest friends, I
sincerely deprecate, is of a kind which very few other men are
capable of accomplishing, and reaches a class of society too
frequently left to itself out of sheer helplessness and despair.

“I have twice confirmed in S. Agatha’s Chapel, and have stayed
a night under Mr. Dolling’s roof, and have given myself ample
opportunity for observing and gauging the nature of his work,
and the measure of his personal influence in the neighbourhood
where he resides. In my opinion, the substantial good he is
enabled to effect by his self-denying and Christian activities
far outweighs by its usefulness any distress that may be caused
to those who are gravely alarmed by doctrines and practices
which they consider to be quite inconsistent with the standards
of the Reformed Church.

“With this view I hope to be able to continue to him my support
and countenance, in the belief that he will again be ready, as
he has already shown himself to be ready, to accept my fatherly
direction, when responsibly and kindly offered. Hereby he will
move out of the way of his undisputed usefulness causes of
offence which alienate outside sympathy and disappoint sincere
well-wishers on the spot, and will also, if at the sacrifice of
some cherished convictions, strengthen his own cause, and help
the work he loves.

“I am, your faithful servant,
“A. WINTON.”

At first it seemed that, in justice to ourselves, it would be necessary to print the whole of our correspondence with the Bishop, and our defence of the little book. But, after thinking the matter over, it seemed best to leave things as they were. After all, it was no business of the public, and the question would only have opened up a controversy which would have done more harm than good. But the Bishop, with extraordinary generosity, sent me a letter, which he allowed me, if I thought it would serve a good purpose, to print:

“FARNHAM CASTLE, SURREY,
“_February 6, 1893_.

“DEAR MR. DOLLING,

“It was as disappointing to me as it must have been distressing
to you, that my reply to the complaint of the Secretary to the
Protestant Alliance, in which I do not find a syllable about
his intention to publish it, should have been sent to the papers
without my knowledge or sanction. But for our friendship all
hopes of arrangement might have been wrecked.