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Page 20
"For heaven's sake, don't let us have division in the camp," replied
the archdeacon: "let us have a long pull and a strong pull, but above
all a pull all together; come, warden, come; don't be afraid of your
duty."
Mr Harding was afraid; he was afraid that he was being led to do that
which was not his duty; he was not, however, strong enough to resist,
so he got up and followed his son-in-law.
The old men were assembled in groups in the quadrangle--eleven of them
at least, for poor old Johnny Bell was bed-ridden, and couldn't come;
he had, however, put his mark to the petition, as one of Handy's
earliest followers. 'Tis true he could not move from the bed where
he lay; 'tis true he had no friend on earth, but those whom the
hospital contained; and of those the warden and his daughter were
the most constant and most appreciated; 'tis true that everything was
administered to him which his failing body could require, or which his
faint appetite could enjoy; but still his dull eye had glistened for a
moment at the idea of possessing a hundred pounds a year "to his own
cheek," as Abel Handy had eloquently expressed it; and poor old Johnny
Bell had greedily put his mark to the petition.
When the two clergymen appeared, they all uncovered their heads.
Handy was slow to do it, and hesitated; but the black coat and
waistcoat of which he had spoken so irreverently in Skulpit's room,
had its effect even on him, and he too doffed his hat. Bunce,
advancing before the others, bowed lowly to the archdeacon, and with
affectionate reverence expressed his wish, that the warden and Miss
Eleanor were quite well; "and the doctor's lady," he added, turning
to the archdeacon, "and the children at Plumstead, and my lord;" and
having made his speech, he also retired among the others, and took
his place with the rest upon the stone benches.
As the archdeacon stood up to make his speech, erect in the middle of
that little square, he looked like an ecclesiastical statue placed
there, as a fitting impersonation of the church militant here on
earth; his shovel hat, large, new, and well-pronounced, a churchman's
hat in every inch, declared the profession as plainly as does the
Quaker's broad brim; his heavy eyebrows, large open eyes, and full
mouth and chin expressed the solidity of his order; the broad chest,
amply covered with fine cloth, told how well to do was its estate; one
hand ensconced within his pocket, evinced the practical hold which our
mother church keeps on her temporal possessions; and the other, loose
for action, was ready to fight if need be in her defence; and, below
these, the decorous breeches, and neat black gaiters showing so
admirably that well-turned leg, betokened the decency, the outward
beauty and grace of our church establishment.
"Now, my men," he began, when he had settled himself well in his
position, "I want to say a few words to you. Your good friend, the
warden here, and myself, and my lord the bishop, on whose behalf I
wish to speak to you, would all be very sorry, very sorry indeed,
that you should have any just ground of complaint. Any just ground
of complaint on your part would be removed at once by the warden, or
by his lordship, or by me on his behalf, without the necessity of
any petition on your part." Here the orator stopped for a moment,
expecting that some little murmurs of applause would show that
the weakest of the men were beginning to give way; but no such
murmurs came. Bunce, himself, even sat with closed lips, mute and
unsatisfactory. "Without the necessity of any petition at all," he
repeated. "I'm told you have addressed a petition to my lord." He
paused for a reply from the men, and after a while, Handy plucked up
courage and said, "Yes, we has."
"You have addressed a petition to my lord, in which, as I am informed,
you express an opinion that you do not receive from Hiram's estate all
that is your due." Here most of the men expressed their assent. "Now
what is it you ask for? What is it you want that you hav'n't got
here? What is it--"
"A hundred a year," muttered old Moody, with a voice as if it came out
of the ground.
"A hundred a year!" ejaculated the archdeacon militant, defying the
impudence of these claimants with one hand stretched out and closed,
while with the other he tightly grasped, and secured within his
breeches pocket, that symbol of the church's wealth which his own
loose half-crowns not unaptly represented. "A hundred a year!
Why, my men, you must be mad; and you talk about John Hiram's will!
When John Hiram built a hospital for worn-out old men, worn-out old
labouring men, infirm old men past their work, cripples, blind,
bed-ridden, and such like, do you think he meant to make gentlemen of
them? Do you think John Hiram intended to give a hundred a year to
old single men, who earned perhaps two shillings or half-a-crown a day
for themselves and families in the best of their time? No, my men,
I'll tell you what John Hiram meant: he meant that twelve poor old
worn-out labourers, men who could no longer support themselves, who
had no friends to support them, who must starve and perish miserably
if not protected by the hand of charity;--he meant that twelve such
men as these should come in here in their poverty and wretchedness,
and find within these walls shelter and food before their death, and a
little leisure to make their peace with God. That was what John Hiram
meant: you have not read John Hiram's will, and I doubt whether those
wicked men who are advising you have done so. I have; I know what his
will was; and I tell you that that was his will, and that that was his
intention."
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