When Dr.Ledsmar finally spoke, it was in a kindlier tone than the young minister had looked for."I had half a notion of going to hear you preach the other evening," he said;"but at the last minute I backed out.I daresay I shall pluck up the courage, sooner or later, and really go.
It must be fully twenty years since I last heard a sermon, and I had supposed that that would suffice for the rest of my life.But they tell me that you are worth while;and, for some reason or other, I find myself curious on the subject."Involved and dubious though the compliment might be, Theron felt himself flushing with satisfaction.He nodded his acknowledgment, and changed the topic.
"I was surprised to hear Father Forbes say that he did not preach," he remarked.
"Why should he?" asked the doctor, indifferently.
"I suppose he hasn't more than fifteen parishioners in a thousand who would understand him if he did, and of these probably twelve would join in a complaint to his Bishop about the heterodox tone of his sermon.
There is no point in his going to all that pains, merely to incur that risk.Nobody wants him to preach, and he has reached an age where personal vanity no longer tempts him to do so.What IS wanted of him is that he should be the paternal, ceremonial, authoritative head and centre of his flock, adviser, monitor, overseer, elder brother, friend, patron, seigneur--whatever you like--everything except a bore.They draw the line at that.
You see how diametrically opposed this Catholic point of view is to the Protestant.""The difference does seem extremely curious to me,"said Theron."Now, those people in the hall--""Go on," put in the doctor, as the other faltered hesitatingly.
"I know what you were going to say.It struck you as odd that he should let them wait on the bench there, while he came up here to smoke."Theron smiled faintly."I WAS thinking that my--my parishioners wouldn't have taken it so quietly.
But of course--it is all so different!"
"As chalk from cheese!" said Dr.Ledsmar, lighting a fresh cigar."I daresay every one you saw there had come either to take the pledge, or see to it that one of the others took it.That is the chief industry in the hall, so far as I have observed.Now discipline is an important element in the machinery here.Coming to take the pledge implies that you have been drunk and are now ashamed.
Both states have their values, but they are opposed.
Sitting on that bench tends to develop penitence to the prejudice of alcoholism.But at no stage would it ever occur to the occupant of the bench that he was the best judge of how long he was to sit there, or that his priest should interrupt his dinner or general personal routine, in order to administer that pledge.Now, I daresay you have no people at all coming to 'swear off.'"The Rev.Mr.Ware shook his head."No; if a man with us got as bad as all that, he wouldn't come near the church at all.He'd simply drop out, and there would be an end to it.""Quite so," interjected the doctor."That is the voluntary system.But these fellows can't drop out.
There's no bottom to the Catholic Church.Everything that's in, stays in.If you don't mind my saying so--of course I view you all impartially from the outside--but it seems logical to me that a church should exist for those who need its help, and not for those who by their own profession are so good already that it is they who help the church.Now, you turn a man out of your church who behaves badly: that must be on the theory that his remaining in would injure the church, and that in turn involves the idea that it is the excellent character of the parishioners which imparts virtue to the church.
The Catholics' conception, you see, is quite the converse.
Such virtue as they keep in stock is on tap, so to speak, here in the church itself, and the parishioners come and get some for themselves according to their need for it.
Some come every day, some only once a year, some perhaps never between their baptism and their funeral.But they all have a right here, the professional burglar every whit as much as the speckless saint.The only stipulation is that they oughtn't to come under false pretences:
the burglar is in honor bound not to pass himself off to his priest as the saint.But that is merely a moral obligation, established in the burglar's own interest.It does him no good to come unless he feels that he is playing the rules of the game, and one of these is confession.
If he cheats there, he knows that he is cheating nobody but himself, and might much better have stopped away altogether."Theron nodded his head comprehendingly.He had a great many views about the Romanish rite of confession which did not at all square with this statement of the case, but this did not seem a specially fit time for bringing them forth.
There was indeed a sense of languid repletion in his mind, as if it had been overfed and wanted to lie down for awhile.
He contented himself with nodding again, and murmuring reflectively, "Yes, it is all strangely different."His tone was an invitation to silence; and the doctor turned his attention to the cigar, studying its ash for a minute with an air of deep meditation, and then solemnly blowing out a slow series of smoke-rings.Theron watched him with an indolent, placid eye, wondering lazily if it was, after all, so very pleasant to smoke.
There fell upon this silence--with a softness so delicate that it came almost like a progression in the hush--the sound of sweet music.For a little, strain and source were alike indefinite--an impalpable setting to harmony of the mellowed light, the perfumed opalescence of the air, the luxury and charm of the room.Then it rose as by a sweeping curve of beauty, into a firm, calm, severe melody, delicious to the ear, but as cold in the mind's vision as moonlit sculpture.It went on upward with stately collectedness of power, till the atmosphere seemed all alive with the trembling consciousness of the presence of lofty souls, sternly pure and pitilessly great.
