So he is. It will be a lay sermon. It was always the custom here with
the clerical tutors to address their men once a term before Communion
Sunday, and some years ago, when Grey first became tutor, he
determined, though he was a layman, to carry on the practice. It was an
extraordinary effort, for he is a man to whom words on such a subject
are the coining of his heart’s blood, and he has repeated it very
rarely. It is two years now since his last address.’
Of course I should like to go,’ said Robert, with eagerness. Is it
open?’
‘Strictly it is for his Greats pupils, but I can take you in. It is
hardly meant for freshmen; but--well, you are far enough on to make it
interesting to you.’
‘The lad will take to Grey’s influence like a fish to water,’ thought
the tutor to himself when he was alone, not without strange reluctance.
‘Well, no one can say I have not given him his opportunity to be
“earnest.”’
The sarcasm of the last word was the kind of sarcasm which a man of his
type in an earlier generation might have applied to the ‘earnestness’ of
an Arnoldian Rugby.
At eight o’clock that evening Robert found himself crossing the
quadrangle with Langham on the way to one of the larger lecture-rooms,
which was to be the scene of the address. The room when they got in
was already nearly full, all the working fellows of the college were
present, and a body of some thirty men besides, most of them already
far on in their University career. A minute or two afterward Mr.
Grey entered. The door opening on to the quadrangle, where the trees,
undeterred by east wind, were just bursting into leaf, was shut; and the
little assembly knelt, while Mr. Grey’s voice with its broad intonation,
in which a strong native homeliness lingered under the gentleness of
accent, recited the collect ‘Lord of all power and might,’ a silent
pause following the last words. Then the audience settled itself, and
Mr. Grey, standing by a small deal table with the gaslight behind him,
began his address.
All the main points of the experience which followed stamped themselves
on Robert’s mind with extraordinary intensity. Nor did he ever lose the
memory of the outward scene. In after-years, memory could always recall
to him at will the face and figure of the speaker, the massive head, the
deep eyes sunk under the brows, the Midland accent, the make of limb
and feature which seemed to have some suggestion in them of the rude
strength and simplicity of a peasant ancestry; and then the nobility,
the fire, the spiritual beauty flashing through it all! Here, indeed,
was a man on whom his fellows might lean, a man in whom the generation
of spiritual force was so strong and continuous that it overflowed
of necessity into the poorer, barrener lives around him, kindling and
enriching. Robert felt himself seized and penetrated, filled with a
fervor and an admiration which he was too young and immature to analyze,
but which was to be none the less potent and lasting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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