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 eye-brows, 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 defense; and, below these, the decorous breeches, and neat black gaiters showing so admirably that well-turned leg, betokened the stability, the decency, the outward beauty and grace of our church establishment."
It is naturally in the Cathedral Series that clerical matters
most abound, but they appear in other volumes, especially
The Bertrams. Caroline Waddington, speaking
of vicars, makes an empiric induction:[1]
"I judge by what I see. They are generally fond of eating,
very cautious about their money, untidy in their own houses,
and apt to go to sleep after dinner."
George Bertram, author of The Romance of Scripture,
and The Fallacies of Early History, exponents of the Higher
Criticism, over which "there was a comfortable row at
Oxford," discusses religion with his cousin the curate.
The attitude of prayer, he says, is beautiful from the communion
it symbolizes. But imagine the attitude with no
such communion,—[2]
"You will at once run down the whole gamut of humanity
from Saint Paul to Pecksniff."
As to the practicability of freedom of thought, the
churchman argues,—
