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T h e Ox f o r d H a n d b o o k o f
T H E SY N OP T IC
G O SP E L S
The Oxford Handbook of
THE SYNOPTIC
GOSPELS
Edited by
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780190887452.001.0001
Notes on Contributors ix
Introduction xv
Stephen P. Ahearne-Kroll
PA RT I T H E P ROB L E M A N D NAT U R E OF
T H E SY N OP T IC G O SP E L S
1. The History and Prospects of the Synoptic Problem 3
John S. Kloppenborg
2. The Minor Sources and Their Role in the Synoptic Problem 27
Paul Foster
3. The Use of Sources in Ancient Compositions 44
James W. Barker
4. Ancient Rhetoric as an Evaluative Tool for Literary Dependence 63
Alexander Damm
5. Paul’s Possible Influence on the Synoptics 81
Cameron Evan Ferguson
6. Oral Tradition, Writing, and the Synoptic Problem:
Media Dualism and Gospel Origins 100
Alan Kirk
7. Oral Performance of the Synoptics 119
Lee A. Johnson
8. Narrative Design of the Synoptics 136
Michal Beth Dinkler
9. Manuscripts: The Problem with the Synoptic Problem 152
Brent Nongbri
vi Contents
10. The Publication of the Synoptics and the Problem of Dating 175
Matthew Larsen
11. The Synoptic Gospels and Apocryphal Narratives 204
Janet E. Spittler
12. The Gospel of Thomas and the Synoptics 223
Melissa Harl Sellew
PA RT I I PA RT IC U L A R F E AT U R E S I N
C OM PA R I S ON
13. Suffering and Sacrifice 245
Candida R. Moss
14. Violent Imaginaries 260
Sarah E. Rollens
15. Kingdom, Authority, and Power 278
Michael Peppard
16. Wealth, Poverty, Economy 296
Thomas R. Blanton IV
17. Travel and Itinerancy 320
Timothy Luckritz Marquis
18. Food and Meals 338
Soham Al-Suadi
19. Healing and Exorcism 355
Meghan Henning
20. Sacred Space 372
Karen Wenell
21. History 392
Eve-Marie Becker
22. Apocalyptic Eschatology 412
Robyn J. Whitaker
Contents vii
Index 585
Notes on Contributors
Stephen P. Ahearne-Kroll is the Sundet Family Chair in New Testament and Christian
Studies at the University of Minnesota. He is the author of The Psalms of Lament in
Mark’s Gospel (2007); coeditor, with P. A. Holloway and J. A. Kelhoffer, of Women and
Gender in Ancient Religion (2010); and author of many essays and articles on the Gospel
of Mark, including the commentary on Mark in The Jerome Biblical Commentary for
the Twenty-First Century (2022). He is currently writing A Chord of Gods: Corinthian
Reception of Paul’s God and the Origins of the Jesus Movement.
Soham Al-Suadi is Professor of New Testament Studies at the University of Rostock
(Germany). She has published on early Christian rituals with a focus on meals. She is
member of the steering committee of the SBL Seminar “Meals in the Greco-Roman
World.” Her most recent book is Ritual, Emotion, and Materiality in the Early Christian
World (2021).
James W. Barker is Associate Professor of New Testament at Western Kentucky
University. He is a recipient of the Paul J. Achtemeier Award for New Testament
Scholarship (2014) and the author of John’s Use of Matthew (2015) and Tatian’s
Diatessaron: Composition, Redaction, Recension, and Reception (2021). He is currently
writing a book on John’s use of the Synoptics.
Eve-Marie Becker is Professor of New Testament at the University of Münster and au-
thor of numerous books, articles, and essays on a variety of topics in New Testament
studies. Most recently, she is author of Paul on Humility (2020), Der Philipperbrief des
Paulus: Vorarbeiten zu einem Kommentar (2020), and The Birth of Christian History:
Memory and Time from Mark to Luke-Acts (2017).
Thomas R. Blanton IV is Associated Fellow at the Max Weber Centre for Advanced
Cultural and Social Studies, University of Erfurt. The author of A Spiritual Economy:
Gift Exchange in the Letters of Paul of Tarsus (Yale University Press, 2017) and coeditor,
with Raymond Pickett, of Paul and Economics: A Handbook (Fortress Press, 2017), he is
currently writing a monograph on Abraham and circumcision for the Anchor Yale Bible
Reference Library.
Alexander Damm is Instructor in the Department of Religion and Culture, Wilfrid
Laurier University, Ontario. He is author of Ancient Rhetoric and the Synoptic Problem
(2013) and editor of Religions and Education in Antiquity (2018) and Gandhi in a
Canadian Context (2016).
x Notes on Contributors
Michal Beth Dinkler is Associate Professor of New Testament at Yale Divinity School.
Recent publications include Influence: On Rhetoric and Biblical Interpretation (Brill)
and Literary Theory and the New Testament (Yale University Press). She is currently
writing How to Do Things with Stories: Early Christian Narrative as Rhetoric and The
Gospel of Luke; New International Greek Testament Series, as well as coediting The Oxford
Handbook of the Gospel of Luke and Acts of the Apostles with Gregory Sterling.
Susan E. Docherty is Professor of New Testament and Early Judaism at Newman
University, Birmingham. She is Chair of the Annual (Hawarden) Seminar on the Use
of the OT in the NT and has published widely on the interpretation of scripture in
early Jewish and early Christian literature. Her recent publications include The Jewish
Pseudepigrapha (Fortress, 2015) and, with Beate Kowalski, Let My People Go: The
Reception of Exodus Motifs in Jewish and Christian Literature (Brill, 2021). Her substan-
tial studies “Israel’s Scriptures in the Dead Sea Scrolls” and “Biblical Interpretation in
the Apocrypha” are forthcoming.
Cameron Evan Ferguson is Area Coordinator and adjunct faculty at Carroll College.
He is the author of A New Perspective on the Use of Paul in the Gospel of Mark (Routledge,
2021). He is co-editor with Calvin Roetzel of Paul: The Man and the Myth, Revised and
Expanded Edition (forthcoming), and a translator for the forthcoming New Tyndale
Version (NTV).
Paul Foster is Professor of New Testament and Early Christianity in the School of
Divinity at the University of Edinburgh. Recent publications include Colossians, BNTC
(2016) and The Gospel of Peter: Introduction, Critical Edition and Commentary, TENT 4
(2010). He is currently completing a book on the Apostolic Fathers and writing a com-
mentary on the Gospel of Matthew.
Joshua D. Garroway is Sol and Arlene Bronstein Professor of Judaeo-Christian Studies
at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, Los Angeles. He is author of The
Beginning of the Gospel: Paul, Philippi, and the Origins of Christianity (2018) and Paul’s
Gentile-Jews: Neither Jew nor Gentile, but Both (2012).
Meghan Henning is Associate Professor of Christian Origins at the University of
Dayton. She is author of Educating Early Christians through the Rhetoric of Hell: Weeping
and Gnashing of Teeth in Matthew and the Early Church (2014) and Hell Hath No Fury:
Gender, Disability, and the Invention of Damned Bodies in Early Christian Literature
(2021). Her forthcoming books are Vivid Rhetoric in the New Testament: Visual
Persuasion and Ekphrasis in Early Christian Literature (coauthor Nils Neumann) and
Apocalypse of Peter: A Commentary (Hermeneia).
Lee A. Johnson is Associate Professor of Religious Studies at East Carolina University,
Greenville, NC. She is the author of numerous articles related to the interface be-
tween written texts and oral culture, published in the Oral History Journal of South
Africa, Catholic Biblical Quarterly, and Biblical Theology Bulletin and is completing a
Notes on Contributors xi
Investigator on the Arts and Humanities Research Council Network Grant “Women,
Faith, and Humanitarian Interventions,” part of the Global Challenges Research Fund.
Robyn J. Whitaker is Senior Lecturer in New Testament at Pilgrim Theological College,
University of Divinity, Parkville, Australia. She is author of Ekphrasis, Vision and
Persuasion in the Book of Revelation (2015) and has published several articles on the
Synoptic Gospels. She is currently coediting a volume of feminist essays on terror and
violence in the Bible and writing a book on biblical hermeneutics.
Magnus Zetterholm is Senior Lecturer and Associate Professor of New Testament
Studies at Lund University, Sweden. He is coeditor of Paul within Judaism: Restoring
the First-Century Context to the Apostle (with Mark D. Nanos, 2015) and The Making of
Christianity: Conflicts, Contacts, and Constructions (with Samuel Byrskog, 2012); author
of Approaches to Paul (2009); and author of numerous articles and essays on the inter-
section of early Judaism and the early Jesus movement.
Introduction
The field of Synoptic studies traditionally has had two basic foci. The question of how
Matthew, Mark, and Luke are related to each other, what their sources are, and how
the Gospels use their sources constitutes the first focus. Collectively, scholarship on
the Synoptic Problem has tried to address these issues, and recent years have seen
renewed interest and rigorous debate about some of the traditional approaches to
the Synoptic Problem and how these approaches might inform the understanding of
the origins of the early Jesus movement. The second focus involves thematic studies
across the three Gospels. These are usually, but not exclusively, performed for theo-
logical purposes to tease out the early Jesus movement’s thinking about the nature of
Jesus, the motivations for his actions, the meaning of his death and resurrection, and
his relationship to God. These studies pay less attention to the particular voices of the
three individual Synoptic Gospels because they are trying to get to the overall theo-
logical character of Jesus.
This book takes a different approach to the study of the Synoptics. Instead of the two
traditional foci just described, its two parts are titled “The Problem and Nature of the
Synoptics” and “Particular Features in Comparison.” A few of the essays in Part I include
discussion of the sources for the Synoptics, literary dependence, and the development
of the written forms of these Gospels (Kloppenborg, Foster, and Barker [to a certain ex-
tent], chapters 1–3 here). At the most basic level, the Synoptic Problem assumes a stable
text tradition, usually starting with the Gospel of Mark, although there have been and re-
main some challenges to Mark’s temporal primacy. The work of theorizing dependence
happens at the level of individual words, phrases, and pericopae, with the arguments
for certain use of one text by another being quite detailed and intricate. Teasing out
solutions to the Synoptic problem usually dominates this area of research, and in recent
years, there has been an uptick in debate about the Synoptic problem and its solutions.
While some form of the two-source hypothesis still holds sway with most scholars, there
has been an effort to revisit earlier theories that question the existence of Q and/or the
independence of Matthew and Luke.
Other interesting questions have arisen regarding the tools used to evaluate literary
dependence beyond that of traditional source criticism and redaction criticism, while
xvi Introduction
maintaining the value of these methods. Creative studies have been performed on the
way that sources were used by other ancient authors to contextualize how the Synoptic
authors might be using their sources (Barker, c hapter 3 here). In addition, ancient rhet-
oric has been studied as a model for how the gospels present their stories in relation
to each other as a way of detecting or confirming dependence (Damm, c hapter 4).
Therefore, the study of ancient composition practices holds a great deal of potential for
providing a deeper understanding of the relationships among Matthew, Mark, and Luke,
and so several essays address these issues. The oral nature of the Synoptics also raises
questions about the arguments for literary dependence, and the interrelation of orality
and writing is precisely the topic of Kirk’s essay (chapter 6), while Johnson explores the
oral performance of the Synoptics as an integral part of their nature (chapter 7). Two
essays take up the analysis of the literary design of the Synoptics and its ramifications for
their nature. Ferguson (chapter 5) develops a distinct way of understanding Paul’s pos-
sible influence on the Gospel of Mark, which in turn affects Matthew’s and Luke’s appro-
priation of the Pauline tradition, assuming traditional Synoptic relations along the lines
of the two-source hypothesis. And Dinkler (chapter 8) addresses the literary design of
the Synoptics through the tools of New Formalism, which focuses its attention on narra-
tive form and structure, while addressing critiques of formalism’s earlier iterations.
One also can recognize that the plurality of manuscript traditions has to come into
play when thinking about literary dependence and the Synoptic Problem. There has
been some creative new work about how to think about the end of the publication pro-
cess of the Gospels, which Larsen (chapter 10) addresses, and the work of text criti-
cism in this question, which Nongbri (chapter 9) explores. With the plurality of “final”
versions a clear phenomenon, what can be said about literary dependence must be raised
as a fundamental question regarding Synoptic relationships and the Synoptic Problem.
Larsen’s and Nongbri’s work poses the most fundamental challenges to the Synoptic
Problem, along with Kirk’s and Johnson’s, because all these essays either directly chal-
lenge the stability of the early versions of the text or rightly recognize the fluidity of
orality as a characteristic of the tradition. Finally, taking the Synoptics a generation or
two into the future, Spittler’s and Sellew’s essays discuss the noncanonical Gospels in re-
lation to the Synoptics to see what light they might shed on the compositional processes
(Spittler, chapter 11) and the content of both (in comparison to the Gospel of Thomas;
Sellew, chapter 12). While the essays in Part I recognize the importance of the history
of scholarship on Synoptic relations, the various ways of understanding the nature of
the Synoptics demonstrated in these essays show the complexity of these traditions
about Jesus that needs to be grappled with in order to understand more fully the na-
ture of their relationship. This complexity shows that scholars cannot rely on the tradi-
tional assumptions that ground the theories of literary dependence in trying to solve the
Synoptic Problem.
The studies in Part II fall under the general rubric of thematic studies of the Synoptic
Gospels. Traditionally, topics like Jesus, discipleship, justice, love, parables, miracles,
and so on are treated thematically across the Synoptics without much attention to the
ways that each Synoptic author expresses his own voice through the use of these topics.
Introduction xvii
In addition, there is usually little attention paid to the greater context of the Synoptics
in Judaism and Greek and Roman culture. This gives the impression that the Synoptics
were written in a vacuum or that they were major literary works of the ancient world.
Neither of these impressions is close to reality, of course, because the Synoptics were
minority writings within a minority sect of Judaism, which itself was a diverse minority
culture within the dominant Roman culture of the time. Part II takes a different ap-
proach to the way topics are handled in Synoptic studies. Most of the essays in Part II
are comparative in two ways—among each Gospel and between the Gospels and other
expressions of the topic in Jewish, Greek, and Roman contexts. But the essays that keep
the discussion mostly on the Synoptics also give voice to each individual Gospel to
convey the diversity of expression and preserve the author’s perspective as much as pos-
sible. Overall, the idea is to capture the similarities and differences in the presentation of
the topics in each Gospel, and to situate the Gospels in a wider frame of reference.
The topics reflect a combination of some traditional categories and some less tra-
ditional categories. Early on a decision was made not to cover many of the tradi-
tional categories often found in books on the Synoptics (e.g., parables, discipleship,
Christology, etc.). These traditional topics are important to understand, but it was felt
that there was already so much written on them that is easily accessible in other books
that this book would risk redundancy by including them. Where the essays in Part II do
cover more traditional topics (kingdom, suffering, healing, resurrection and afterlife,
etc.), the authors have worked to come at the topics in a comparative way that sheds new
light on how these features of the Synoptics are not monoliths inserted into the litera-
ture but particular expressions of these general topics (e.g., Henning, Whitaker, Somov,
chapters 19, 22, 23). And this particularity grounds all of the essays in Part II. Instead of
mining the Synoptics for evidence to build abstracted notions of the themes, there is a
real and consistent effort in these essays to describe the evidence in the Synoptics in its
own context. Each essay topic performs an interesting analysis that brings out the dis-
tinct voices of each Gospel, alongside the similarities that exist across the Gospels.
There is a richness to Part II that shows the power of the approach the authors have
taken in exploring the Synoptics from a number of different perspectives. They raise
important questions of power (Rollens, Peppard, c hapters 14 and 15) and the social
consequences of it (Moss, Blanton, Luckritz Marquis, and Al-Suadi, c hapters 13, 16, 17,
and 18). They address the social nature of these traditions (Kampen, Zetterholm, and
Reno and Ahearne-Kroll, chapters 25, 26, and 29) and the literary expression of these
social realities (Rollens, Myers, Reno and Ahearne-Kroll, and Moore, c hapters 14, 28, 29,
and 30). And they explore in depth how the traditions of Israel have shaped the concerns
of the Synoptic authors (Whitaker, Garroway, Kampen, Zetterholm, and Docherty,
chapters 22, 24, 25, 26, and 27). As a whole, the essays in Part II beg the question whether
or not “Synoptic” is the best way to describe these three Gospels.
The book as a whole provides thirty studies that substantially contribute to the field
of Synoptic studies, moving it forward in interesting ways and providing the ground-
work for a new generation of scholars to pursue the directions initiated by the book’s
contributors.
xviii Introduction
Many of the essays in this book were written and edited during the deadly global pan-
demic originating in late 2019 and continuing on up through the final stages of the pro-
duction of the book. The difficulties the pandemic presented for finishing this book in a
timely manner were substantial, and I am deeply thankful to the contributors for their
excellent scholarship, prompt responses, and patient endurance as we completed this
book. I am also very grateful to Kristofer Coffman and Kristi Lee, who helped a great
deal in the formatting and editing of the manuscript. Their futures are bright in Synoptic
studies and in the study of religion within the broad landscape of ancient culture.
While Kristofer, Kristi, and all the contributors persevered in their excellent work
throughout the pandemic, our efforts do not compare to those of the millions who have
suffered and endured real hardship across the globe since late 2019, from the frontline
workers of all statuses, who have helped care for, feed, and clothe victims and de-
velop therapies and vaccines, to those who have contracted the virus and struggled for
their lives and health. Their work far outshines any scholarship, no matter the level of
excellence.
And so this book is dedicated to all those affected by this modern plague, especially
the millions who have lost their lives and millions more of their family members who
keep their memories alive.
Pa rt I
T H E P ROB L E M A N D
NAT U R E OF T H E
SY N OP T IC G O SP E L S
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such a good chap! He might give this Southerner many a hint. But the
Coopers won't have a word to say to him, because he has a weekly
Eucharist, and makes the schoolchildren attend."
Helston listened with sinkings of the heart. This did not sound like a
household in which Melicent would be happy. But report is often one-sided.
He determined to judge for himself.
CHAPTER XIV
The following day Sir Joseph and Lady Burmester, with their guests,
duly attended the ugly little church in Fransdale.
There had been a church there since the dawnings of English history.
But, as the Reformed Church lost her grip upon the strong, narrow minds of
the Dalesmen, it had been allowed to fall in ruins. Then had come the
disastrous "churchwarden" restoration, which had abolished all landmarks.
A stumpy little box-like structure now stood among the ancient graves, in a
velvet-smooth meadow overshadowed by the frowning hills which closed
round the head of the Dale.
Mrs. Cooper had been duly informed by Tommy of the meeting with the
gentlemen from the Grange, and of the fact that one of them seemed to be a
great friend of Melicent's. There was no valid reason why this news should
displease her; but it did. She was vexed that her insignificant niece should
have so many friends. The passion of jealousy was smouldering deep down
in her heart, among other dormant forces of which she was unaware. Like
many parents, while constantly assuring herself and her children that looks
were nothing, she nevertheless expected the girls to be admired and sought
out. When first she saw Millie, she had experienced relief at the thought
that such a thin, pale shrimp of a girl could never prove a rival to her own.
That she should be thrust forth to the notice of the Burmesters, so early in
her sojourn at Fransdale, was most displeasing; she told herself that it must
give the poor child a totally false idea of her own importance.
However, forewarned is forearmed. She was ready after service with the
sweetest smiles of the amiable aunt, to be presented to the Helstons, and
thank them suitably for their care of "poor darling Melicent."
Lady Burmester was not a tactful person. She did not like the Coopers,
whom she thought pompous and prosy. She proceeded to ask Mrs. Cooper
to come to lunch the following day, and to bring her niece with her. She did
not include any of the vicar's daughters in her invitation.
Mrs. Cooper smiled, and gushed, and seemed so delighted with the
invitation, that her ladyship was conscious of a slight shock when she found
that she was refusing it. It was early days yet, and would be unsettling for
dear Melicent, who must get a little more used to English ways before she
could bring her out. She knew dear Lady Burmester would understand. She
suggested instead, that the two ladies from the Grange should come to tea at
the Vicarage one afternoon; suppose they were to say Wednesday?
"O-o-oh! So that was where the shoe pinched," said her ladyship,
surprised.
"I daresay that supplies a second reason for her aunt's refusal!" said her
friend, amused. "You and Mr. Helston have a very high opinion of that
funny little white-faced girl, have you not?"
"Does he strike you," asked Lady Burmester, "as being the kind of man
to find out?"
Mrs. Helston hesitated.
"I fear not; he struck me as a dense kind of man. I heard Harry ask him,
after service, whether this church were on the site of the old one—whether
any of the old material had been built in; and he replied that he did not
know, and had never inquired. I am afraid that will settle him, in Harry's
estimation!" They both laughed gaily. "Harry looked," said his wife, "much
as he might have done, had the vicar said that he did not know who his
mother was, and had never inquired."
"Yes; was he not interesting yesterday? I shall not soon forget that
wonderful church on the verge of the precipice. One feels that one knows
the true meaning of sermons in stones when you have heard him talk of
Ilberston. He knows every stone in his church, and every heart in his
parish."
* * * * * * * *
It was on Monday that Alfred Dow, riding down the Dale, came, as he
passed the inn, upon Millie as she stood in the road with her cousins,
waiting for Tommy, who had gone into the Post Office.
Upon this scene the vicar came, emerging from a vexatious interview
with a stiff-necked churchwarden; and he was not pleased.
"If Mrs. Dow is kind enough to second your invitation, perhaps she
would write direct to Mrs. Cooper," said the vicar, still more gelid. "I cannot
say what her plans are for this week."
Dow turned slightly away, looked down at Millie, and deliberately shut
one eye. Yet she could see that he was angry too.
The vicar walked back with Miss Lathom and the six girls.
"You will, please," said he to the governess, "when you have occasion to
enter a shop, take Melicent with you. I thought I had told you that she is
never to be left with her cousins. She is wholly untrustworthy. After ten
years in this parish I have more or less succeeded in showing these people
that their free and easy ways are not for me; and now I am to come and find
my niece and daughters unchaperoned in the public street, laughing and
joking with a dissenting farmer! I will not have it!"
Tommy was abject. She trembled before him; but when he sent for
Millie into the study, it was a different thing. He asked her what excuse she
had for her behaviour. She asked in wonder:
"What behaviour?"
He explained the enormity of her conduct, adding that he was under the
impression that he had told her, on the day of her arrival, that in England,
social distinctions must be observed.
"Do you mean that you may not even speak to anyone who is not your
social equal?"
"Certainly I mean it! When Mr. Dow greeted you to-day, you should
have merely bowed, and turned to speak to one of your cousins; then he
would have been obliged to pass on."
"In Africa," said his niece, "we should think that contemptible."
"As you know, that is just the point. We are not in Africa, but in
England, where a social code exists."
"As long as you live with me, you will do as I tell you."
"Thank you for explaining that to me. I am afraid I shall not be able to
stay with you," she said simply.
"I beg your pardon; I am sorry I am foolish, and I did not mean to be
rude. Is that all you wanted to say to me?"
"To Mr. and Mrs. Helston," she replied unhesitatingly. "They have told
Mr. Mayne that they would like to have me."
"Well, upon my word!" The vicar was well-nigh jolted out of his
composure. He pulled himself together only by a strong effort. "Leave the
room," he said. "Apologise, and leave the room."
"I have not been impertinent," she said, "and I shall not apologise. I
think you in the wrong."
She walked out of the room, leaving an angry man behind her.
* * * * * * * *
The vicar's quiet insolence had aroused Alfred Dow, as it roused all his
parishioners, to a feeling of active hostility. He felt a desire to get the better
of him, if he could.
He sent a man next day with a note from Mrs. Dow to Mrs. Cooper—a
note which the old lady had written with many protests, telling her son he
was "nobbut a giddy fool" to be asking such a thing of her. Why should she
make her best cheese-cakes for "them loompin' lasses o' passon's?"—when
madam treated all dissenters as the dirt beneath her feet?
Mrs. Cooper was very undecided as to what answer she should return,
when the unwelcome note arrived. On the one hand, she detested the Dows,
and did not like to be indebted to them. They had never invited her girls
before; she felt that this invitation was really on Melicent's account.
Furthermore, Melicent was in disgrace, and did not deserve a treat. On the
other hand, she knew that her five, who were never asked out, longed to go.
It would be a sign to the whole village of a splendid condescension, did she
allow it. Also, the fact of their being engaged to go to Crow Yat, would
furnish an excuse, should Lady Burmester arrive on Wednesday, as seemed
likely, with more invitations to Melicent. The vicar was for refusing; but he
was disregarded. Melicent must be taught the difference between
condescending to drink tea with one's inferiors and addressing them, when
you met them, as equals.
The girls were wild with delight when they heard they were to go. They
all walked to Bensdale Post Office that afternoon, and Gwen posted a letter.
Lady Burmester and Mrs. Helston duly came to tea at the Vicarage on
Wednesday, and were received by Mrs. Cooper in the gaunt drawing-room
—where she gave them what the girls were wont to call "pretence tea," as
opposed to a solid, dining-room table arrangement—in elegant seclusion.
Her flow of amiable small-talk was so unceasing, that they had been
there some twenty minutes before Lady Burmester, warned by recent error,
could get in a request to see "your girls and Miss Lutwyche."
"Melicent, I have news for you," she said—"news which I think you
will be glad to hear. We are not leaving Fransdale when we leave the
Grange. Sir Joseph has let to us, furnished, for a month, the sweetest cottage
you ever saw."
"Then I can come and see you," she began; but, checking herself,
sighed. "That is, if Aunt Minna lets me. But she is so curious. She treats me
like a prisoner. I am never allowed to go out alone. Are all English girls like
that? Do you know, it does irritate me so."
"A lovely view from this window, isn't it?" said the suave voice of Aunt
Minna, just behind. "Melicent, darling, go and fetch that curious photo of
Slabbert's Poort to show Lady Burmester."
Melicent, with one glance at her friend, went off as desired. Mrs.
Cooper beamed upon her visitor, and spoke confidentially.
"I feel sure you realise how hard it must be for a girl who has been the
mainstay of a delicate father for years, to bear restraint."
"We know, don't we," cooed Mrs. Cooper, with her little eyes almost
shut, "that obedience is the foundation-stone of all training."
"I come with an invitation from Sir Joseph, which I must deliver," she
said. "We are all going to Clairvaulx Priory Ruins on Monday, as Mr. and
Mrs. Helston leave us the following day. Sir Joseph hopes to see yourself,
the vicar, your three elder girls and Miss Lutwyche. We will send the
waggonette and pair for you at half-past ten, unless it is wet."
"I believe to be excellent, but it must give way sometimes," replied her
darling boy. "It is of primary importance that we should be on good terms
with the Grange. You had your way about the Dow invitation. Let me have
mine about this."
"Well, at any rate," said his wife, after a pause, "I have taught her
ladyship not to invite my niece and exclude my daughters! A little firmness,
dear Aidmund, as I often tell you, works wonders!"
CHAPTER XV
A CLEVESHIRE TEA-PARTY
"And how came Miss Matilda not to marry him?" asked I.
"Oh, I don't know. She was willing enough, I think; but you know, Cousin Thomas
would not have been enough of a gentleman for the rector and Miss Jenkyns."
"No; but they did not like Miss Matty to marry below her rank. You know, she was the
rector's daughter, and somehow they are related to Sir Peter Arley; Miss Jenkyns thought a
deal of that."
The despotism of Mrs. Cooper was growing hard for Melicent to bear.
What she exacted was submission: nothing more. She did not desire to
convince her children's understandings; only to hinder them from giving
expression to their thoughts. As they sat in empty silence around her, while
she prattled of trivialities, she congratulated herself on their docility. Like
the Roman conquerors of old—"she made a solitude, and called it peace."
Miss Lathom had had the wit to see, within a week of her first arrival,
the kind of service which was required of her. It was not asked that she
should approve Mrs. Cooper's judgment; merely that she should not
question it. So long as she kept the girls at lessons for the required number
of hours, it did not matter how little they learned.
The animal side of these big, country-bred, well-fed girls was strongly
developed, and cried for a vent. Their starved minds gave them no contrast,
no resources. They were without the influences of dancing, drilling, tennis,
cycling—without the stimulus of sheer hard brain-work, the thrilling
interests of school-life and girl-friendships. There was nothing to stem the
flood of their growing consciousness of sex. Gwen especially, vigorous and
full-blooded, had arrived at a dangerous crisis.
From the moment of the arrival of Mrs. Dow's invitation, her cousins
discussed Lance Burmester, Alfred Dow, and young Freshfield, from
morning to night, except for those monosyllabic portions of time which
they spent under their parents' eye. They talked of the way these young men
walked, the colour of their eyes, the shape of their collars, the sound of their
voices, their little manners and expressions. They meant no harm. They
only needed an outlet for that natural craving for romance, which their
mother thought proper to ignore.
Melicent laboured hard to find a field for her own superfluous energy.
On the first morning after her arrival, she had risen early, made her bed,
aired her room, borrowed the housemaid's brush, swept and dusted.
Her aunt did not, for two or three days, discover what she was doing.
But when she did, she was scandalised. What would the servants think?
Millie showed herself inclined to esteem but lightly the possible amazement
of the two clumsy girls who formed the Vicarage staff. But her domestic
efforts were straitly forbidden.
But that day, Mrs. Cooper discovered the new pursuit; and it was
stopped.
Millie, however, was not to be defeated. She next turned her attention to
her cousin's dress; and, finding some stuff which had been lying in the
house for months, cut out and made up blouses for Maddie and Gwen. This
last matutinal pursuit found more favour; and henceforth the girl's fingers
were fully occupied, though her mind continued to crave.
It was in wild spirits that the party started for Crow Yat, which was a
fine old house, standing much lower down the Dale, and for a wonder, built
of red brick, and not grey stone. It had been the shooting-lodge and toy of a
baronet of George II.'s time, who had tired of it, and sold it to Alfred Dow's
ancestor.
He led them through the garden, gathering late roses and dahlias with a
lavish hand; then in among the deep lush orchard grass, filling their hands
with delicious apples. He sent a boy up the meadow to gather mushrooms
for them to take home; but on Melicent's vehemently expressed wish,
laughingly allowed them to do it for themselves.
Then, at the clanging of a great bell, they came back to the house,
where, in the elegant, panelled dining-parlour, sat Mrs. Dow, presiding over
a real Cleveshire tea—jam tarts, cheese-cakes, currant sandwiches,
cartwheels, turnovers—pastry in all its forms; ham that must be tasted to be
thoroughly appreciated, cut in wafer slices; heather honey in the comb;
peaches, great, luscious, Victoria plums, black Hamburg grapes, the despair
of Sir Joseph's head gardener, who every year saw "they Dows" take the
prize over his head at the annual show.
Had Melicent been a little older, she would have been amused at the
keenness of the old lady's scrutiny—her suspicious glances from one to the
other in search of charms which should explain her son's sudden interest in
the Vicarage lasses, an idea fully as repugnant to her as it could have been
to the outraged Mrs. Cooper.
To look at the fine young man, with his good physique, excellent morals
and clean ancestry, was to make one wonder what better fate would be
likely to await one of these ordinary, ill-educated girls, samples of
thousands of their kind scattered over the land. And, had the vicar's niece
read "Cranford," she might have thought of the silent tragedy of Thomas
Holbrook and little Miss Matty.
All tea-time young Dow was trying to draw her out, a task which was
never easy; but every time he coaxed her out of a statement about Boers and
their ways, he roared with appreciation of her crisp, incisive style.
Tea was half over when a horse was heard to clatter into the stable-yard.
Melicent, who happened to be seated exactly opposite Gwen, saw her face
suddenly suffused with an overwhelming, unbecoming blush. A minute
later, a shadow darkened the window, and a voice called in greeting. It was
Freshfield.
The conversation flagged, somehow. The rules under which they lived
made the girls tongue-tied when in company. Madeline, at nearly eighteen,
had no glimmering of the necessity that is laid upon the well-bred to set
others at their ease. They were all gauche and heavy, and ate largely.
Tea over, a move was made to the fold-yard to see the beasts; and this
done, someone suggested hide-and-seek. Miss Lathom demurred at this; she
was uneasy at Freshfield's coming, though she had been privy to his being
apprised of their whereabouts. She said with some decision that she was
quite sure the vicar would not like it.
"Well, then, look here, Tommy," said Mr. Freshfield, with engaging
familiarity, "the vicar must jolly well not be told. See? I hear from all those
girls what a trump you are."
Under this pressure, Tommy yielded. But to the surprise of all, Millie
declined it altogether.
"If you are sure Uncle Edmund would not like it, I shall not do it," she
said simply. "I am always doing what he doesn't like unintentionally, but I
won't do it on purpose."
She quietly went indoors to old Mrs. Dow, whose dignity and good
sense had attracted her. This was a nature she could understand, a woman
who thought no household work beneath her. Mrs. Dow, flattered, offered to
show her the dairy. She had made no doubt that so small and pale a thing
was town-bred, and was soon filled with astonishment at the knowledge and
capacity displayed by the girl. Alfred, coming in, found them discussing the
rival methods of African and English farms with much vigour. He came to
ask Millie to go and look at some new plantations which, just now, were his
particular delight. But as soon as they were out of hearing, he turned to her
as if seizing a chance, and said:
"I'm not angry," said Millie; "but I know nothing about it. I can't tell you
anything."
He took off his cap to run his fingers through his curls, which was a
habit Millie had seen her cousins mimic.
"I had a mind to ask you to warn her; think she'd take it?" he asked.
"Warn her that he's not in earnest; he's just playing. She's raw and doesn't
see over-many young men. But I know for a fact that he's engaged to a girl
with a bit o' money."
"It shows my uncle to have been right in holding a low opinion of him,"
was the contemptuous verdict.
"Eh, but you hit straight!" he returned, in admiration. "Only, if he'd been
better treated the cur wouldn't bite."
They had no chance to say more, for two of the girls, all shyness now
wholly cast aside, came charging down the path, and with shrieks warned
them to make a dash for home.
Melicent was left in great discomfort. She had knowledge which she
could not tell what to do with. She felt, rather than knew, that to warn Gwen
would be worse than futile; especially now, when her refusal to play hide-
and-seek had irritated all the girls against her, as well as Tommy, whose
conscience was sore, and who consequently was for once downright ill-
tempered.
Melicent had a dreary walk home. She would have been utterly
discouraged but for the fact that she was to see the Helstons again on
Monday; and some chance there must be that day for her to tell her friends
all that was in her heart.
Life at the Vicarage was too aimless. She had one hundred pounds of
her very own, and she was determined somehow to make this yield her two
years' good schooling.
CHAPTER XVI
Melicent's little bedroom was her sole refuge; and this her aunt, in her
petty tyranny, denied her as often as she could. It was her theory that
solitude was bad for girls. She liked them to be always herded together,
under the eye of Tommy or one of their parents. Melicent must work, write,
read, in the constant babble and racket of the schoolroom. The first time she
found her niece curled up in the window-seat of her own room with a book,
she swooped upon her with her sweetest smile, to see what the volume was.
On discovering it to be "Alison's History of Europe," she shifted her attack
from the reading to the spot where it took place. It was a draughty window;
dear Melicent had better go into the warm schoolroom.
Melicent felt her tongue tingle to resent this aimless autocracy. The
window of her little room was dear to her. It overlooked the grey stable-
yard, with the glowing copper of autumn beeches, the dazzling gold of
birches, peeping over the further wall, flanked by black Scotch firs, whose
trunks seemed to glow red-hot when the sun was in the west; and behind
them lay the long purple ridge—Weary Ridge—that fenced Fransdale away
from the world on the eastern side.
The window was quite close to one inner corner of the quadrangle
formed by the house and outbuildings. At right angles to it was the warm,
dry, stone barn, on the upper floor of which the old mare's fodder was
stored. There was a door, the upper half of which had a wooden shutter, on
a level with Melicent's casement; and running up to this, one of those
exterior flights of stone steps, so common in Cleveshire stable-yards.
Melicent felt sure that it would not be difficult, if there were something
to hold by, to swing herself out of the window, upon the rectangular slab of
stone, which was only a little to the left. In this way she could get out, if
ever her longing for a solitary ramble overcame her. The gate of the yard
was locked at night, but she knew were the key hung; and at times her
longing to be free and away on the magical moors was like a voice calling,
or a force drawing her.
There were only four windows overlooking the stable-yard; one was on
the landing, one was her own, and the remaining two belonged to the boys'
room, which was of course, during term, untenanted.
On Thursday night, her head full of what Mr. Dow had said about
Gwen, she found herself unable to sleep, and actually carried out her plan.
There was a staple, securely fixed in the wall, just by her window. To this
she firmly attached a bit of rope's end with a loop. Sitting on the sill, and
jumping lightly to the left, she alighted on the verge of the stone slab, and,
holding firmly to her rope, swung herself round, got her balance, and stood
safely. It was easy to slip round the two dark sides of the yard and open the
gate. When it was shut behind her, and she stood under the wall, in the grass
of the church meadow, she felt herself swallowed up in the immensity of
the night.
For an hour she wandered in the little wood, and sat by the side of the
tributary beck, rushing noisily over its stony bed to join the trout stream
below. Then, no longer restless, she quietly returned, accomplished, not
without difficulty, her re-entry, and creeping into bed, was instantly asleep.
"Prisons are not so easy to get out of," replied Melicent: "If you dislike
it so, why don't you run away, and decline to come back unless they make
terms?"
"Run away!" they all cried; and Gwen added, with a sneer: "Why don't
you try, if it's so easy?"
"Yet you played the Pharisee yesterday, and would not join our game."
"I think that's different. To do what we were specially told not to do, in
front of other people, is publicly to shame Uncle Edmund and Aunt Minna.
Now my going for a breath of air was quite private; there was nobody to be
scandalised."
"Well," observed Babs, "if you had been seen, half the village would
have been scandalised."
"That's true," said Melicent thoughtfully. "I think I had better not do it
any more; but it was very tempting, just to try."
On the following day, Gwen had neuralgia, and was in great pain.
"It's her bed," said Maddie, "it's in such a draught; and mine's no better.
Mother says it's all right if we keep the window shut, but we can't sleep
with the window shut, so we always get up and open it, after she has been
in. I wonder we're not both blown away! I tell you what, Millie, I wish
you'd let her sleep in your bed just for one night, to get rid of it. We don't
want to tell mother, or she'll keep her indoors, and perhaps stop her from
going to Clairvaulx on Monday."
"Yes; but remember, we mustn't change till after mother has been round
last thing."
"All right; Gwen had better slip in when the coast's clear," said Melicent
unsuspiciously.