"The parables of the mustard seed and the leaven do not express the whole thought of Christ. When the work of preparation is over, still men must brace themselves, as their Master did, to the last stroke of 'violence'--to a final effort of resolute, and, if need be, revolutionary action--to the 'violence' that brings ideas to birth and shapes them into deeds. "It was to 'violence' of this sacred sort that the Christian Church owed its beginning; and it is this same 'violence' that must, as the generations rise and fall, constantly maintain it among men. To cut away the old at need and graft in the new, requires the high courage and the resolute hand of faith. Only so can the Christian Life renew itself; only so can efficacy and movement return to powers exhausted or degenerate; only so 'can these dry bones live!'" Amid the throng as it moved outward into the bustle of Westminster, Flaxman found himself rubbing shoulders with Edward Norham. Norham walked with his eyes on the ground, smiling to himself. "A little persecution!" he said, rubbing his hands, as he looked up--"and how it would go!" "Well--the persecution begins this week--in the Court of Arches." "Persecution--nonsense! You mean 'propaganda.' I understand Meynell's defence will proceed on totally new lines. He means to argue each point on its merits?" "Yes. The Voysey judgment gave him his cue. You will remember, Voysey was attacked by the Lord Chancellor of the day--old Lord Hatherley--as a 'private clergyman,' who 'of his own mere will, not founding himself upon any critical inquiry, but simply upon his own taste and judgment' maintained certain heresies. Now Meynell, I imagine, will give his judges enough of 'critical inquiry' before they have done with him!" Norham shrugged his shoulders. "All very well! Why did he sign the Articles?" "He signed them at four-and-twenty!" said Flaxman hotly. "Will you maintain that a system which insists upon a man's beliefs at forty-four being identical with his beliefs at twenty-four is not condemned _ipso facto_!" "Oh I know what you say!--I know what you say!" cried Norham good-humouredly. "We shall all be saying it in Parliament presently--Good heavens! Well, I shall look into the court to-morrow, if I can possibly find an hour, and hear Meynell fire away." "As Home Secretary, you may get in!"--laughed Flaxman--"on no other terms. There isn't a seat to be had--there hasn't been for weeks." The trial came on. The three suits from the Markborough diocese took precedence, and were to be followed by half a dozen others--test cases--from different parts of England. But on the Markborough suits everything turned. The Modernist defendants everywhere had practically resolved on the same line of defence; on the same appeal from the mind of the sixteenth century to the mind of the twentieth; from creeds and formularies to history; from a dying to a living Church.