THE OFFICE AND WORK OF A BISHOP. T HE Bishop of
London took occasion the other day to describe his episcopal work in terms which have possibly caused some surprise. Certainly it is not at all what episcopal work is sometimes supposed to be. There is no note of sustained spirituality in his description, no mention of high authority fitly exercised under a deep sense of responsibility to the Church at large, no reference to great purposes greatly accomplished. Any conception of a Bishop's life which includes these elements is far removed from the Bishop of London's account of his day. Yet that day begins soon and ends late. He constantly leaves Fulham by an early train and does not return till 11 o'clock at night, and the interval has been mainly spent in writing letters and talking about matters in which he is "not particularly interested." This is the- picture which he evidently regards as an accurate - presentment of his ordinary life, though, nee dless to say,. it is not a picture which he himself considers as in any way satisfactory. The days pass in writing uninteresting letters and in listening to uninteresting conversations.
It may be said, no doubt, that this is nothing more than the lot of every professional man. What else has the- barrister or the doctor to occupy him than these same two things ? The barrister, indeed, has his sensational cases or his intricate pleadings, the doctor has his hand-to-hand conflicts with death. But these are not nearly numerous - enough to fill their whole time. The barrister has to - spend hours over technical details, of which he knows and wishes to know no more than will admit of being reproduced in argument when the cause comes on for trial. The doctor has to attend patients who are not really ill, and to give up time which he might devote to advancing medical science, to listening to hypochondriacal reminiscences. Why is a Bishop any worse off than these ? There is one reason, which we will state at once lest we should be anticipated in giving it by a cynical reader. Routine work of the professional kind is less uninteresting than routine work of the official kind because it helps to build up the worker's income. How- ever dull the day's labour may be, it has brought in by - the time that it is over an appreciable number of guineas. It is even possible that it brings in a larger number than work of a more absorbing character. But this is not the point of difference which we have in view. That has to do with the special nature of a Bishop's work. There are, as we hold, reasons which make routine peculiarly bad for a Bishop because it exercises an unwholesome in- fluence on his other work. A doctor does not pay leas attention to a critical case, nor is he less qualified to deal with it, because he has many others which make no demands on his powers. A barrister is not less alive to the points of an important trial, or less able to put them clearly before the Judge, because his table has for weeks been burdened with columns of figures from which he has to construct a foundation for the con. elusion to which he wishes to lead the Court. But with a Bishop it is, or at least may be, different. In the first place, the success of episcopal work depends to a great extent upon episcopal character, and character is largely formed by the intellectual and moral atmosphere in which we live. A Bishop has to think of his clergy, of their several circumstances and difficulties, of their fitness for the duties they have to perform, of the opportunities he is likely to have for making that fitness greater. He has to think of the laity of whom his clergy have charge, to consider what he can do to protect them against the mistakes and neglect which they sometimes experience at their hands. He has to think of particular cases,—cases in which many conflicting considerations have to he weighed against one another, cases in which every course that is open to him bristles with objections, while, nevertheless, it is imperatively necessary to do some- thing. And then besides all these matters there are larger questions. A Bishop is not merely the chief officer of a particular diocese. He is also .a. member of a not very large Committee whose decisions may gravely affect the state and fortunes of the whole Church. In the framing of these decisions each individual Bishop has a share, depending in part on the amount of thought he has been able to bestow on the subjects to which they relate. There are men whose insight is so keen and their judgment so unerring that they need little or no preparation for such work as this. The moment the issue is stated they have made up their minds, and made them up rightly. But these are rare qualities. To more ordinary men time is of the essence of a useful decision. They want to look at the matter in many lights, to calculate the consequences of this and that mode of dealing with it, to live with it, so to say, until they have seen it presented to them in various moods. These are the processes by which opinions not perhaps very valuable at first become valuable as the result of good, honest labour,—the labour of a man determined to do his best, and leaving no means unused which may make that best better.
All these several aspects of a Bishop's work have this in common,—that to do it thoroughly well needs some time for thought and some time for study, needs, that is to say, the felt presence of that spiritual and intellectual back- bone which only thought and study can give. The sub- jects to which thisthought and study are devoted may be as different as possible. A Bishop is not a seminarist to whom a specific preparation is prescribed by a superior authority. But the point which they will all have in common is that they touch the best things in the man, the things which call out and develop his finest qualities. Now, thought and study unfortunately are processes to which the cir- cumstances of modern life are seldom very favourable, and still more unfortunately they are processes to which the circumstances of episcopal life, as described by the Bishop of London, are specially unfavourable. Innumerable letters,—which of us does not know something of what this means? The makin g, and still more the altering, of appoint- ments, the answering of questions which need never have been asked, or at all events need have been asked only once, the brushing away of stupid misunderstandings which a little more sense or a little less sensitiveness on the part of your correspondent would easily have avoided, the soothing down of pompous people whose co-operation is wanted, but not wanted quite on their own terms, the bringing to book of careless people who never remember a day or an hour correctly,—it is not in these, or in a hundred other forms of epistolary weakness or epistolary folly, that a Bishop can hope to develop the higher aspects either of his own character or of the characters of those on whom be has influence. They are at best the materials that go to make a good man of business,—the man whose necessary aim, and in the end his highest ideal, is to answer the day's letters in the day. And when we turn to the other half of the Bishop's occupations— the endless talking about matters which do not greatly interest him—we shall find him no better off. Interviews are but vird voce letters. They deal with the same subject-matter, they are usually much harder to keep within bounds, they add the friction of personal contact to the friction of mental intercourse.
We have seen, then, that the two main occupations of a Bishop's day are precisely those which leave him least fitted for the higher sides of his work, whether intellectual or spiritual. But a moment's reflection will show that these two main occupations cannot be safely neglected. If the business of the diocese is to be got through there must be somebody to answer trifling letters, to make, and keep, unnecessary appointments, to listen to people who have nothing to say, to settle questions which those who bring them forward might as well have settled for them- selves. While the world lasts these things will have to be done. But does it follow that it is the Bishop who *lust do them ? To our thinking this does not follow at all ; they might be done just as well by some one else. Indeed, we shall probably not be far wrong if we say that Bishops are perpetually trying to get some one else to do them, and perpetually finding that, do what they will, the burden comes back on their own shoulders. The reason of this failure is to be looked for, we fancy, in the fact that the official on whom it is sought to devolve these routine duties is wanting in dignity of position. If there are men who will not take " No " for an answer, even from a Bishop, there are many more who will not take " No " for an answer from a Bishop's chaplain or a. Bishop's secretary. What is wanted, therefore—at least so it seems to us—is either the revival of the office of Vicar-General or a complete reconstruction of the office of Archdeacon. It should be for one or other of these dignitaries to leave home by an early train and not to return till 11 o'clock at night, to spend his days writing uninteresting letters and in listening to uninteresting con- versations. It is not, we admit, an inviting prospect, and we would not suggest that it should be held by the same man for very long. It is eminently one of the cases in which the military rule of five-year appointments might be applied with advantage. For that time, and with the prospect of other and more interesting work in the future, it is not likely that there would be any difficulty in getting the places filled, and filled with immense advantage to the Bishop, who would thus be enabled to attend to other and more important sides of his work.
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