The Altar Steps | Page 4

parish
church visited the object of their charity, and those that did venture
seldom came twice. Lidderdale did not consider that it was part of the
Lima Street religion to be polite to well-dressed explorers of the slum;
in fact he rather encouraged Lima Street to suppose the contrary.
"I don't like these dressed up women in my church," he used to tell his
vicar. "They distract my people's attention from the altar."
"Oh, I quite see your point," Thurston would agree.
"And I don't like these churchy young fools who come simpering down
in top-hats, with rosaries hanging out of their pockets. Lima Street
doesn't like them either. Lima Street is provoked to obscene comment,
and that just before Mass. It's no good, Vicar. My people are savages,
and I like them to remain savages so long as they go to their duties,
which Almighty God be thanked they do."
On one occasion the Archdeacon, who had been paying an official visit
to St. Simon's, expressed a desire to see the Lima Street Mission.
"Of which I have heard great things, great things, Mr. Thurston," he
boomed condescendingly.
The Vicar was doubtful of the impression that the Archdeacon's gaiters
would make on Lima Street, and he was also doubtful of the impression
that the images and prickets of St. Wilfred's would make on the
Archdeacon. The Vicar need not have worried. Long before Lima
Street was reached, indeed, halfway down Strugwell Terrace, which
was the main road out of respectable Notting Hill into the Mission area,
the comments upon the Archdeacon's appearance became so
embarrassing that the dignitary looked at his watch and remarked that
after all he feared he should not be able to spare the time that afternoon.

"But I am surprised," he observed when his guide had brought him
safely back into Notting Hill. "I am surprised that the people are still so
uncouth. I had always understood that a great work of purification had
been effected, that in fact--er--they were quite--er--cleaned up."
"In body or soul?" Thurston inquired.
"The whole district," said the Archdeacon vaguely. "I was referring to
the general tone, Mr. Thurston. One might be pardoned for supposing
that they had never seen a clergyman before. Of course one is
loath--very loath indeed--to criticize sincere effort of any kind, but I
think that perhaps almost the chief value of the missions we have
established in these poverty-stricken areas lies in their capacity for
civilizing the poor people who inhabit them. One is so anxious to bring
into their drab lives a little light, a little air. I am a great believer in
education. Oh, yes, Mr. Thurston, I have great hopes of popular
education. However, as I say, I should not dream of criticizing your
work at St. Wilfred's."
"It is not my work. It is the work of one of my curates. And," said the
Vicar to Lidderdale, when he was giving him an account of the
projected visitation, "I believe the pompous ass thought I was ashamed
of it."
Thurston died soon after this, and, his death occurring at a moment
when party strife in the Church was fiercer than ever, it was considered
expedient by the Lord Chancellor, in whose gift the living was, to
appoint a more moderate man than the late vicar. Majendie, the new
man, when he was sure of his audience, claimed to be just as advanced
as Thurston; but he was ambitious of preferment, or as he himself put it,
he felt that, when a member of the Catholic party had with the exercise
of prudence and tact an opportunity of enhancing the prestige of his
party in a higher ecclesiastical sphere, he should be wrong to neglect it.
Majendie's aim therefore was to avoid controversy with his
ecclesiastical superiors, and at a time when, as he told Lidderdale, he
was stepping back in order to jump farther, he was anxious that his
missioner should step back with him.

"I'm not suggesting, my dear fellow, that you should bring St. Wilfred's
actually into line with the parish church. But the Asperges, you know. I
can't countenance that. And the Adoration of the Cross on Good Friday.
I really think that kind of thing creates unnecessary friction."
Lidderdale's impulse was to resign at once, for he was a man who
found restraint galling where so much passion went to his belief in the
truth of his teaching. When, however, he pondered how little he had
done and how much he had vowed to do, he gave way and agreed to
step back with his vicar. He was never convinced that he had taken the
right course at this crisis, and he spent hours in praying for an answer
by God to a question already answered by himself. The