Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1889-06-08
A LITERARY VENTURE.


rible business Of her novel and the dire pains
and penalties that resulted from it were en-
tirely due to the bishop of Crowborough, and
to the bishop alone. She admitted she was en-
couraged by Anthony Trollope and other liter
airy swells, who all wrote articles proving con-
vincingly that literature was the easiest and
most lucrative trade in the world if you only
hit the right vein, but it was the bishop who
first started her on that untoward literary ven-
ture. Every time she told the story (and dur
ing the subsequent thirty years Of her life she
certainly told it hundred times) she deepened
the turpitude of the bishop and the blood
thirsty character of his conduct until her hus-
band, the Rev. Aubrey Lowell "a hilarious
country rector, with a tremendous voice),
would shout out in his genial way: Now, Nell
lie, my love, the bishop had really very little to
do with it, and behaved very nicely, think;
it was all your ridiculous vanity and greed"
It is necessary to clear the ground by telling
you something Of the bishop and Mrs. Lowell
The bishop of Crowborough was the oldest pre-
late on the bench. He was appointed to the
see in the days when q scholarly edition of
Juvenal or Euripides was most direct road to
a mitre.
His appointment dated 80 far back in the
past that no one living exactly knew what par
ticular service to scholarship obtained for DR..
Octavius Mackereth the see of Crowborough.
He had held it for forty-five years, and for the
greater portion Of that period the bishop had
been engaged on gigantic book, profound
but little-read history of the monks of the
1hebald, volume appearing at intervals OF
about six years.
AS no one ever bought the book, far less
read it, the publication cost the learned author
| small fortune. The bishop was not only
cellbate, but a confirmed woman-hater, or, per-
haps, one might say a woman ignorer-he
seemed to realize the sex with an effort. What
| larly once in the life Of each of his Thebaid
monks, but they were all mere dream women,
emlssarles OF Satan sent in vision to tempt that
particular monk back to the pomps and vanities
OF the world. This, the bishop perceived, was
evidently the chief function of woman. Mean
while, the bishop being permanently engaged
In the Libyan desert, the diocese fell into q
lamentable state of decay; dissent -four
lshed and waxed fat, yea, even under the
shadow of the cathedral itself. Twice a
year the bishop emerged from historical
research and gave a reception at the pal
ace, but, of course, he had no wife, no
ladies came. The bishop never had the least
idea how many of his clergy would come and
made random preparations OF helpless kind
the fare provided being of the meagsrest de-
scription. Some stringy sandwiches, some
weak negus, and parboiled tea formed the
episcopal menu. The high church clergy
struggled fiercely for the negus and the low
church Tapped up the weak tea. Nobody under
the rank of prebend had the least chance Of
securing spoon to himself. The bishop was
practically stranger to four-fifths of his
clergy. At the beginning of these lamentable
receptions he tried to identify his guests and
say something appropriate to each; but he
soon gave that task up and adopted a stereo-
nod div Ito to ah hay,
shake. This was far safer plan, as the poor
bishop had a dreadful habit of cheerfully in
quiring after newl y-buried wives; and to this
day they tell the story of his asking cid Canon
jenkins after his wife when all the diocese WIS
ringing with the news Of her elopement with
his curate.
So much for the bishop, now for Mrs. Lowell.
She was woman of about forty, the ordinary
healthy type of English matron, quite ignorant
OF art and literature, but entirely satisfied with
herself, her children and husband She was
ambitious In kindly way. and tried to push
her husband up in the world, but this pushing
business was herculean task, for her excellent
husband was quite without any upward tend
encies, being of the steady, slow, easygoing
order, that quietly holds on and always ends in
being an archdeacon. AS regards herself, Mrs.
Lowell used to say:
Il don't pretend to be clever or learned,
but do consider 1 write a very good let
ter"
She said this so often and with such an air of
conviction that all her friends grew to think SO
too. Now, there was grain Of truth in this
claim. She wrote a thoroughly reckless, rat
ting, feminine letter; she could not have de-
scribed sunset or landscape to save her life,
but give her bit of village gossip and she
would dress and touch it up till it became a
very lifelike and amusing sketch then she
touched off all her friends peCuliarites with
such a good natured and lively pen that every
one said when they heard letter of hers read
aloud: What very amusing person that Mrs.
Lowell must bel"
1t happened just about now that, by an odd
chance, the bishops brother, who was an old
literary bachelor living in the Albany, went on
visit of three days to the palace at Crowbor-
ough. The brothers became dmly conscious Of
each others existence about once in five years.
then the bishop asked the Albany bachelor to
visit Crowborough, and the latter went, al
ways limiting his stay to exactly three days; he
used to say at the athenRum: The first day is
chastened affection, the second indifference
and WEAKNESS, the third hatred and despair; if
l staid fourth should murder the bishop or
die myself
During his visit he pumped into the bishop
all the gossip of the clubs and all the literary
news, though of course neither the one nor the
other mixed at all well with the monks of the
Thebaid; but the Albany brother said it was his
duty to post the bishop up to date. 1t was just
at this time that the Life Of George Eliot" ap-
peared
Inc bishop had the very vaguest OF notions
as to George Eliot and her achievements, but
he knew that she was a woman, though It puz-
zled him beyond measure why q woman should
assume a mans name.
That woman should write books was one
astonishing fact; that any one should read them
was another; and the third and most astonish-
ing fact of all was that any publisher should
pay 1000, as his brother assured him had
been paid for one Of her books. The bishops
experience of publishers and the public was SO
altogether different.
The week after the Albany brother left, the
bishop, by the most unusual combination Of
circumstances, had to go to lunch at Mr.. Low
ellis to meet another bishop; he loathed that
other bishop, who was stirring, enthusiastic
creature of quite modern creation and very
modern ideas.
He hated, too, the very thought Of the lunch,
but he had to go. How to provide polite con-
versation for two hours the bishop did not
know. SO as he drove along he tried to recall
few topics that might be appropriate and in
teresting, and he endeavored to recollect and
make use of the London gossip his brother had
told HIM, but the sole thing he could recall
was q few details about George Eliot and
chiefly that she actually had had $1,000 for
writing one book.
He launched this fact at Mrs. Lovells head,
he dilated upon it, he returned to it again and
again. 1t had astonished the bishop, and it
astonished Mrs. Lowell.
When the bishop had left Mrs. Lowell sat and
thought Seven thousand pounds for one book!
Why, the bishop only got $4,000 for being a
~. - Ia