He cocked his head, smiling at the audience who mostly smiled back and murmured agreement.
“You’ll find this excellent walkin’ and climbin’ country, gentlemen, and we have a very decent little trout-stream in the grounds. So study hard, and learn how to pray and preach and perhaps learn to practise what you preach, hey?” — (Another pause for smiles and amused murmurs) — “But gentlemen, don’t neglect the body God gave you. Mens sano incorpore sane. A healthy mind and healthy body will help you avoid the pitfalls of papish superstition on one side and the blue devils of Methodist fanaticism on the other. And a word of warning. Many of you are Welsh so know how quickly gossip travels in rural areas. I do not want to hear of anyone drinkin’ in a local pothouse before he has learned to carry his liquor like a gentleman.”
Nothing in the Principal’s speech had amused Henry James Prince and the widespread approving response left him feeling lonely. The first lectures and the communal evening meal left him lonelier still. He went despondently to his room. Though as small as a monk’s cell it was plainly but sufficiently carpeted, wallpapered and furnished. A small fireplace had a grate with coals laid above sticks and papers. He knelt on the hearthrug, lit the fire and was about to continue kneeling in prayer when someone tapped the door. He opened it and saw a young man with a creased, leathery, solemn face who said, “Good evening. My name is Arthur Rees. My room is next door.”
“Henry James Prince,” said Prince, bowing slightly. “Would you care to take tea with me?”
“Yes thanks,” said Rees entering, “but what I’d like most is a word with you. We seem the oldest of the new lot.”
“I am twenty-six,” said Prince closing the door. “I trained as a doctor before deciding to come here. Please sit down.”
He placed a kettle of water on a hob attached to the grate and poked the fire. Rees said, “I was a seaman.”
“Indeed?”
“A sailor in peril on the deep. Trivial danger of broken bones and drowning of course, but I encountered worse perils. Know what I mean?”
“I suppose you refer to sins. As a doctor I have encountered most forms of evil, Mr Rees, so know the sin most dangerous to seamen. Not drunkenness, eh?” asked Prince, smiling thinly. “Not drunkenness, no. O no.”
“Since you are obviously earnest about your soul’s salvation I am very pleased to meet you.”
Prince brought utensils from a corner cupboard and made tea. As they drank it Rees said, “If you will allow the question, Mr Prince, what brings you here?”
“Many things, Mr Rees. As a child I was taught to love God by an unusually sincere Christian. Then my medical work in London and Bath showed me how little can be done to help sick bodies, how much is not done to help sick souls. I also became very ill, nearly died last year and was advized to recuperate through rest and a change of air. I went north and lived for a while with my brother — he is a vicar at Shincliffe, near Durham. This experience shocked me more than my recent surgical operation! No doubt in London and Bath I had met many infidels, but the churches where I worshipped were always well attended. My brother’s church was never more than a quarter full. The colliers in his parish openly despized it. They drank deep, swore loudly and fought hard. Their Sunday mornings were chiefly spent in brutal fisticuffs that continued quarrels begun in previous Sundays. Men loved their puppies more than their wives, who were regularly beaten as often as the men got drunk. Their employers were no better, for such gentry spent the Sabbath shooting, fishing or riding to hounds. I wish I could say that my brother’s parishioners hated him for being a true Christian. Alas, I cannot say so. The Church, I saw, stood in dire need of sincere priests. Something I could not deny urged me to become one. That something — I hope and pray — was God’s Holy Spirit. What brought you here, Mr Rees?”
“My sins.”
“O?”
There was a silence then Rees added, “I fear I am more naturally vicious than most men — certainly most of my appetites are vicious. By frequent prayer I hardly ever indulge them, but have known for years that my one chance of salvation is in coming closer to God. None of the ministers I have so far met have brought me closer. By saving every spare penny I can now pay the fees of this college which may teach me to come closer.”
“May I shake your hand, Rees?” said Henry, and they shook hands warmly.
Then Rees asked diffidently, “What’s your impression of the other students, Prince?”
“I am vexed by their levity, Rees. God forgive me if I’m wrong but some seem educating for the stage rather than the pulpit.”
“Dry bones! Dry bones the lot of them!”
“God can give life to dry bones,” said Prince, reprovingly.
“Yes, we must pray for that.”
“Will we pray for it now?”, said Prince, staring at him. Rees, nodding, smiled radiantly back. Prince chuckled and nodded also. They knelt facing each other on the hearthrug, half a yard apart, heads bowed, hands clasped on stomachs. In a low voice Prince asked, “Shall I begin? After The Lord’s Prayer?” “Yes, after The Lord’s Prayer.”
They said that prayer in unison and then, with Prince leading, spoke alternately as the spirit moved them, begging Almighty God to give special help to the moral state of the college, to its Principal, its lecturers, its students and, lastly, to themselves.
At first their prayers had no obvious effect. All students observed a decent gravity during communal prayers, services and lectures, but between these facetious levity was the most obvious mood. The tutor of Greek, despite a dry manner, did not discourage some levity in his classroom. He said, “Thucydides now describes the sporting customs of the Spartans. Will you translate Mr Rees? Egoom-no-they-san tay protoy kai —?”
With much hesitation Rees said, “They were the first also who. . stripped themselves and. . pulling off their clothes in public, anointed themselves with fat for, for, for athletic exercizes. Whereas. . formerly. . even in the Olympic Games the wrestlers used to fight wearing. . exontes, exontes. .”
“Skirts,” said the tutor, “Girdles. Belts.”
Hurriedly Rees muttered, “. . used to fight with belts round their loins which shows that the primitive Greeks lived like the barbarians of the present day.”
“Yes,” said the tutor urbanely, “The custom of sporting nudity was started by Orsippus of Megara, who accidentally lost his girdle in the Olympic stadium and consequently won the race. Greek notions of barbarism you see, were in some matters the reverse of ours. You look as if you wish to say something, Mr Prince.”
“Yes. Can you tell me sir how knowledge of Greek depravity will help our study to administer Christ’s Gospels?”
“I can. You are here to learn the original language of the Gospels, Mr Prince, which was first written in Greek. But it was written by Jews whose Greek dialect, though adequate, was provincial, and to understand a language well it is always wise to start by studying those who wrote it best. You should therefore learn to construe Aristotle and Thucydides before giving your minds to the less definite subject of pastoral theology. Anything pernicious you acquire from these great writers and reasononers is your responsibility, not mine, and so Mr Prince please translate what Thucydides says about early cities, piracy and the foundations of capital.”
After a pause Prince said in a low voice, “I will not.”
“Oho! It goes against your conscience, sir?”