第127章

'I had better add, that Lord - cannot as yet know of this piece of preferment having fallen in, or rather of the certainty of falling (for poor dear Dr Trefoil is past hope). Should Lord - first hear it from you, that might probably bee thought to give you a fair claim to express your opinion.

'Of course our grand object is, that we should all be of one opinion in church matters. This is most desirable at Barchester; it is this that makes our good bishop so anxious about it. You may probably think it expedient to point this out to Lord - if it shall be in your power to oblige me by mentioning the subject to his lordship.

'Believe me, my dear Sir Nicholas, 'Your most faithful servant, OBADIAH SLOPE.'

His letter to Mr Towers was written in quite a different strain. Mr Slope conceived that he completely understood the difference in character and position of the two men whom he addressed. He knew that for such a man as Sir Nicholas Fitzwhiggin a little flummery was necessary, and that it might be of the easy everyday description. Accordingly, his letter to Sir Nicholas was written currente calamo, with very little trouble. But to such a man as Mr Towers it was not so easy to write a letter that should be effective and yet not offensive, that should carry its point without undue interference. It was not difficult to flatter Dr Proudie, or Sir Nicholas Fitzwhiggin, but very difficult to flatter Mr Towers without letting the flattery declare itself. This, however, had to be done. Moreover, this letter must in appearance at least, be written without effort, and be fluent, unconstrained, and demonstrative of no doubt or fear on the part of the writer.

Therefor the epistle to Mr Towers was studied, and recopied, and elaborated at the cost of so many minutes, that Mr Slope had hardly time to dress himself and reach Dr Stanhope's that evening.

When dispatched it ran as follows:-

'Barchester, Sept 185- (He purposely omitted any allusion to the 'palace', thinking that Mr Towers might not like it. A great man, he remembered, had been once much condemned for dating a letter from Windsor Castle.)'(Private)

'My dear Sir,--We were all a good deal shocked here this morning by hearing that poor old Dean Trefoil had been stricken with apoplexy.

The fit took him about 9am. I am writing now to save the post, and he is still alive, but past all hope, or possibility, I believe, of living. Sir Omicron Pie is here, or will be very shortly; but all that even Sir Omicron can do, is to ratify the sentence of his less distinguished brethren that nothing can be done. Poor Dr Trefoil's race on this side of the grave is run. I do not know whether you knew him. He was a good, quiet, charitable man, of the old school of course, as any clergyman over seventy years of age must necessarily be.

'But I do not write merely with the object of sending you such news as this: doubtless some one of your Mercuries will have seen and heard and reported so much; I write, as you usually do yourself, rather with a view to the future than to the past.