The Attaché; or, Sam Slick in England — Complete

by Thomas Chandler Haliburton

  CHAPTER XII. STEALING THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE.

  Shortly after our return to the inn, a carriage drove up to the door,and the cards of Mr. Merton, and the Reverend Mr. Homily, whichwere presented by the servant, were soon followed by the gentlementhemselves.

  Mr. Merton said he had been informed by Mrs. Hodgins of our visit to hercottage, and from her account of our conversation and persons, he wasconvinced we could be no other than the party described in the "Sayingsand Doings of Mr. Samuel Slick," as about to visit England with theAttache. He expressed great pleasure in having the opportunity of makingour acquaintance, and entreated us to spend a few days with him at thePriory. This invitation we were unfortunately compelled to decline, inconsequence of urgent business in London, where our immediate presencewas indispensable.

  The rector then pressed Mr. Hopewell to preach for him, on the followingday at the parish church, which he also declined. He said, that hehad no sermons with him, and that he had very great objections toextemporaneous preaching, which he thought should never be resorted toexcept in cases of absolute necessity. He, however, at last consented todo so, on condition that Mrs. Hodgins and her husband attended, andupon being assured that it was their invariable custom to be present,he said, he thought it not impossible, that he might make an impressionupon _him_, and as it was his maxim never to omit an opportunity ofdoing good, he would with the blessing of God, make the attempt.

  The next day was remarkably fine, and as the scene was new to me,and most probably will be so to most of my colonial readers, I shallendeavour to describe it with some minuteness.

  We walked to the church by a path over the hills, and heard the bells ofa number of little churches, summoning the surrounding population to theHouse of God. The roads and the paths were crowded with the peasantryand their children, approaching the church-yard in different directions.The church and the rectory were contiguous to each other, and situatedin a deep dell.

  The former was a long and rather low structure, originally built oflight coloured stone, which had grown grey with time. It had a largesquare steeple, with pointed corners, like turrets, each of which wasfurnished with a vane, but some of these ornaments were loose and turnedround in a circle, while others stood still and appeared to be examiningwith true rustic curiosity, the condition of their neighbours.

  The old rectory stood close to the church and was very irregularlybuilt, one part looking as if it had stepped forward to take a peep atus, and another as if endeavouring to conceal itself from view, behinda screen of ivy. The windows which were constructed of diamond-shapedglass, were almost square, and opened on hinges. Nearly half of thehouse was covered by a rose-tree, from which the lattices peered veryinquisitively upon the assembled congregation. Altogether it looked likethe residence of a vigilant man, who could both see and be unseen if hepleased.

  Near the door of the church were groups of men in their cleansmock-frocks and straw hats, and of women in their tidy dark dresses andwhite aprons. The children all looked clean, healthy, and cheerful.

  The interior of the church was so unlike that of an American one, thatmy attention was irresistibly drawn to its peculiarities. It was low,and divided in the centre by an arch. The floor was of stone, and fromlong and constant use, very uneven in places. The pews were much higheron the sides than ours, and were unpainted and roughly put together;while the pulpit was a rude square box, and was placed in the corner.Near the door stood an ancient stone font, of rough workmanship, andmuch worn.

  The windows were long and narrow, and placed very high in the walls. Onthe one over the altar was a very old painting, on stained glass, of theVirgin, with a hoop and yellow petticoat, crimson vest, a fly cap, andvery thick shoes. The light of this window was still further subdued bya fine old yew-tree, which stood in the yard close behind it.

  There was another window of beautifully stained glass, the light ofwhich fell on a large monument, many feet square, of white marble. Inthe centre of this ancient and beautiful work of art, were two principalfigures, with smaller ones kneeling on each side, having the handsraised in the attitude of prayer. They were intended to represent someof the ancestors of the Merton family. The date was as old as 1575. Onvarious parts of the wall were other and ruder monuments of slate-stone,the inscriptions and dates of which were nearly effaced by time.

  The roof was of a construction now never seen in America; and the oldoak rafters, which were more numerous, than was requisite, either forstrength or ornament, were massive and curiously put together, givingthis part of the building a heavy and gloomy appearance.

  As we entered the church, Mr. Hopewell said he had selected a textsuitable to the times, and that he would endeavour to save thepoor people in the neighbourhood from the delusions of the chartistdemagogues, who, it appeared, were endeavouring to undermine the throneand the altar, and bring universal ruin upon the country.

  When he ascended the pulpit to preach, his figure, his great age, andhis sensible and benevolent countenance, attracted universal attention.I had never seen him officiate till this day; but if I was struck withhis venerable appearance before, I was now lost in admiration of hisrich and deep-toned voice, his peculiar manner, and simple style ofeloquence.

  He took for his text these words: "So Absalom stole the hearts of themen of Israel." He depicted, in a very striking manner, the arts of thisintriguing and ungrateful man to ingratiate himself with the people, andrender the government unpopular. He traced his whole course, from hisstanding at the crowded thoroughfare, and lamenting that the king haddeputed no one to hear and decide upon the controversies of the people,to his untimely end, and the destruction of his ignorant followers. Hemade a powerful application of the seditious words of Absalom: "Oh that_I_ were a judge in the land, that every man which hath a suit or causemight come unto me, and _I_ would do him justice." He showed the effectof these empty and wicked promises upon his followers, who in the holyrecord of this unnatural rebellion are described as "men who went out intheir simplicity, and knew not anything."

  He then said that similar arts were used in all ages for similarpurposes; and that these professions of disinterested patriotism werethe common pretences by which wicked men availed themselves of theanimal force of those "who assemble in their simplicity, and know notany thing," to achieve their own personal aggrandisement, and warnedthem, to give no heed to such dishonest people. He then drew a pictureof the real blessings they enjoyed in this happy country, which, thoughnot without an admixture of evil, were as many and as great as theimperfect and unequal condition of man was capable either of impartingor receiving.

  Among the first of these, he placed the provision made by the state forthe instruction of the poor, by means of an established Church. He saidthey would doubtless hear this wise and pious deed of their forefathersattacked also by unprincipled men; and falsehood and ridicule would beinvoked to aid in the assault; but that he was a witness on its behalf,from the distant wilderness of North America, where the voice ofgratitude was raised to England, whose missionaries had planted a churchthere similar to their own, and had proclaimed the glad tidings ofsalvation to those who would otherwise have still continued to livewithout its pale.

  He then pourtrayed in a rapid and most masterly manner the sin and thedisastrous consequences of rebellion; pointed out the necessity thatexisted for vigilance and defined their respective duties to God, andto those who, by his permission, were set in authority over them; andconcluded with the usual benediction, which, though I had heard iton similar occasions all my life, seemed now more efficacious, morepaternal, and more touching than ever, when uttered by him, in hispeculiarly patriarchal manner.

  The abstract I have just given, I regret to say, cannot convey anyadequate idea of this powerful, excellent, and appropriate sermon. Itwas listened to with intense interest by the congregation, many of whomwere affected to tears. In the afternoon we attended church again, whenwe heard a good, plain, and practical discourse from the rector; but,unfortunately, he had nei
ther the talent, nor the natural eloquence ofour friend, and, although it satisfied the judgment, it did not affect,the heart like that of the "Old Minister."

  At the door we met, on our return, Mrs. Hodgins. "Ah! my dear," said Mr.Hopewell, "how do you do? I am going to your cottage; but I am an oldman now; take my arm--it will support me in my walk."

  It was thus that this good man, while honouring this poor woman, avoidedthe appearance of condescension, and received her arm as a favour tohimself.

  She commenced thanking him for his sermon in the morning. She said ithad convinced her William of the sin of the Chartist agitation, and thathe had firmly resolved never to meet them again. It had saved him fromruin, and made her a happy woman.

  "Glad to hear it has done him good, my dear," said he; "it does me good,too, to hear its effect. Now, never remind him of past errors, neverallude to them: make his home cheerful, make it the pleasantest placehe can find any where, and he won't want to seek amusement elsewhere,or excitement either; for these seditious meetings intoxicate by theirexcitement. Oh! I am very glad I have touched him; that I have preventedthese seditious men from 'stealing his heart.'"

  In this way they chatted, until they arrived at the cottage, whichHodgins had just reached by a shorter, but more rugged path.

  "It is such a lovely afternoon," said Mr. Hopewell, "I believe I willrest in this arbour here awhile, and enjoy the fresh breeze, and theperfume of your honeysuckles and flowers."

  "Wouldn't a pipe be better, Minister?" said Mr. Slick. "For my part, Idon't think any thing equal to the flavour of rael good gene_wine_ firstchop tobacco."

  "Well, it is a great refreshment, is tobacco," said Mr. Hopewell. "Idon't care if I do take a pipe. Bring me one, Mr. Hodgins, and one foryourself also, and I will smoke and talk with you awhile, for they seemas natural to each other, as eating and drinking do."

  As soon as these were produced, Mr. Slick and I retired, and requestedMrs. Hodgins to leave the Minister and her husband together for a while,for as Mr. Slick observed, "The old man will talk it into him like abook; for if he was possessed of the spirit of a devil, instead of aChartist, he is jist the boy to drive it out of him. Let him be awhile,and he'll tame old uncle there, like a cossit sheep; jist see if hedon't, that's all."

  We then walked up and down the shady lane, smoking our cigars, and Mr.Slick observed, "Well, there is a nation sight of difference, too, ain'tthere, atween this country church, and a country meetin' house our sideof the water; I won't say in your country or my country; but I say _our_side of the water--and then it won't rile nobody; for your folks willsay I mean the States, and our citizens will say I mean the colonies;but you and I know who the cap fits, one or t'other, or both, don't we?

  "Now here, this old-fashioned church, ain't quite up to the notch, andis a leetle behind the enlightment of the age like, with its queer oldfixin's and what not; but still it looks solemcoly' don't it, and thedim light seems as if we warn't expected to be a lookin' about, and asif outer world was shot out, from sight and thort, and it warn't _man's_house nother.

  "I don't know whether it was that dear old man's preachin', and he isa brick ain't he? or, whether it's the place, or the place and himtogether; but somehow, or somehow else, I feel more serious to-daythan common, that's a fact. The people too are all so plain dressed, sodecent, so devout and no show, it looks like airnest.

  "The only fashionable people here was the Squire's sarvants; and they_did_ look genteel, and no mistake. Elegant men, and most splendidlookin' women they was too. I thought it was some noble, or aid's,or big bug's family; but Mrs. Hodgins says they are the people ofthe Squire's about here, the butlers and ladies' maids; and superfineuppercrust lookin' folks they be too.

  "Then every body walks here, even Squire Merton and his splendiriferousgalls walked like the poorest of the poor, there was no carriage to thedoor, nor no hosses hitched to the gate, or tied to the back of waggons,or people gossipin' outside; but all come in and minded their business,as if it was worth attendin' to; and then arter church was finished off,I liked the way the big folks talked to the little folks, and enquiredarter their families. It may he actin', but if it is, it's plaguy goodactin', I _tell_ you.

  "I'm a thinkin' it tante a rael gentleman that's proud, but only a hop.You've seen a hop grow, hante you? It shoots up in a night, the matterof several inches right out of the ground, as stiff as a poker, straightup and down, with a spick and span new green coat and a red nose, asproud as Lucifer. Well, I call all upstarts 'hops,' and I believe it'sonly "hops" arter all that's scorny.

  "Yes, I kinder like an English country church, only it's a leetle, jista leetle too old fashioned for me. Folks look a leetle too much likegrandfather Slick, and the boys used to laugh at him, and call him abenighted Britisher. Perhaps that's the cause of my prejudice, and yet Imust say, British or no British, it tante bad, is it?

  "The meetin' houses 'our side of the water,' no matter where, but awayup in the back country, how teetotally different they be! bean't they?A great big, handsome wooden house, chock full of winders, painted sowhite as to put your eyes out, and so full of light within, that insideseems all out-doors, and no tree nor bush, nor nothin' near it butthe road fence, with a man to preach in it, that is so strict andstraight-laced he will do _any thing_ of a week day, and _nothin'_ ofa Sunday. Congregations are rigged out in their spic and span bran newclothes, silks, satins, ribbins, leghorns, palmetters, kiss-me-quicks,and all sorts of rigs, and the men in their long-tail-blues, pig-skinpads calf-skin boots and sheep-skin saddle-cloths. Here they publish abook of fashions, there they publish 'em in meetin'; and instead of apictur, have the rael naked truth.

  "Preacher there don't preach morals, because that's churchy, and hedon't like neither the church nor its morals; but he preaches doctrine,which doctrine is, there's no Christians but themselves. Well, thefences outside of the meetin' house, for a quarter of a mile or so,each side of the house, and each side of the road, ain't to be seen forhosses and waggons, and gigs hitched there; poor devils of hossesthat have ploughed, or hauled, or harrowed, or logged, or snaked, orsomethin' or another all the week, and rest of a Sunday by alterin'their gait, as a man rests on a journey by a alterin' of his sturup, ahole higher or a hole lower. Women that has all their finery on can'twalk, and some things is ondecent. It's as ondecent for a woman tobe seen walkin' to meetin', as it is to be caught at--what shall Isay?--why caught at attendin' to her business to home.

  "The women are the fust and the last to meetin'; fine clothes costsunthin', and if they ain't showed, what's the use of them? The men folkremind me of the hosses to Sable Island. It's a long low sand-bank onNova Scotia coast, thirty miles long and better is Sable Island, and notmuch higher than the water. It has awful breakers round it, and picksup a shockin' sight of vessels does that island. Government keeps asuper-intender there and twelve men to save wracked people, and there isa herd of three hundred wild hosses kept there for food for saved crewsthat land there, when provision is short, or for super-intender to catchand break for use, as the case may be.

  "Well, if he wants a new hoss, he mounts his folks on his tame hosses,and makes a dash into the herd, and runs a wild feller down, lugs himoff to the stable-yard, and breaks him in, in no time. A smart littlehoss he is too, but he always has an _eye to natur'_ arterwards; _thechange is too sudden_, and he'll off, if he gets a chance.

  "Now that's the case with these country congregations, we know where.The women and old tame men folk are, inside; the young wild boys andontamed men folk are on the fences, outside a settin' on the top rail, aspeculatin' on times or marriages, or markets, or what not, or a walkin'round and studyin' hoss flesh, or a talkin' of a swap to be completed ofa Monday, or a leadin' off of two hosses on the sly of the old deacon's,takin' a lick of a half mile on a bye road, right slap a-head, andswearin' the hosses had got loose, and they was just a fetchin' of themback.

  "'Whose side-saddle is this?'

  "'Slim Sall Dowdie's.'

  "'Shift i
t on to the deacon's beast, and put his on to her'n and tie thetwo critters together by the tail. This is old Mother Pitcher's waggon;her hoss kicks like a grasshopper. Lengthen the breechin', and whenaunty starts, he'll make all fly agin into shavin's, like a plane. Whois that a comin' along full split there a horseback?'

  "'It's old Booby's son, Tom. Well, it's the old man's shaft hoss; callout whoh! and he'll stop short, and pitch Tom right over his head on thebroad of his back, whap.

  "Tim Fish, and Ned Pike, come scale up here with us boys on the fence.'The weight is too great; away goes the fence, and away goes the boys,all flyin'; legs, arms, hats, poles, stakes, withes, and all, with anawful crash and an awful shout; and away goes two or three hosses thathave broke their bridles, and off home like wink.

  "Out comes Elder Sourcrout. 'Them as won't come in had better stay tohome,' sais he. And when he hears that them as are in had better stay inwhen they be there, he takes the hint and goes back agin. 'Come, boys,let's go to Black Stump Swamp and sarch for honey. We shall be backin time to walk home with the galls from night meetin', by airlycandle-light. Let's go.'

  "Well, when they want to recruit the stock of tame ones inside meetin',they sarcumvent some o' these wild ones outside; make a dash on 'em,catch 'em, dip 'em, and give 'em a name; for all sects don't alwaysbaptise 'em as we do, when children, but let 'em grow up wild in theherd till they are wanted. They have hard work to break 'em in, for theyare smart ones, that's a fact, but, like the hosses of Sable Island,they have always _an eye to natur'_ arterwards; _the change is toosudden_, you can't trust 'em, at least I never see one as _I_ could,that's all.

  "Well, when they come out o' meetin', look at the dignity and sanctity,and pride o' humility o' the tame old ones. Read their faces. 'How doesthe print go?' Why this way, 'I am a sinner, at least I was once,but thank fortin' I ain't like you, you onconverted, benighted,good-for-nothin' critter you.' Read the ontamed one's face, what's theprint there? Why it's this. As soon as he sees over-righteous stalk byarter that fashion, it says, 'How good we are, ain't we? Who wet his hayto the lake tother day, on his way to market, and made two tons weightwo tons and a half? You'd better look as if butter wouldn't melt inyour mouth, hadn't you, old Sugar-cane?'

  "Now jist foller them two rulin' elders, Sourcrout and Coldslaugh; theyare plaguy jealous of their neighbour, elder Josh Chisel, that exhortedto-day. 'How did you like Brother Josh, to-day?' says Sourcrout, autterin' of it through his nose. Good men always speak through the nose.It's what comes out o' the mouth that defiles a man; but there is nomistake in the nose; it's the porch of the temple that. 'How did youlike Brother Josh?'

  "'Well, he wasn't very peeowerful.'

  "'Was he ever peeowerful?'

  "'Well, when a boy, they say he was considerable sum as a wrastler.'

  "Sourcrout won't larf, because it's agin rules; but he gig goggles likea turkey-cock, and says he, 'It's for ever and ever the same thing withBrother Josh. He is like an over-shot mill, one everlastin' wishy-washystream.'

  "'When the water ain't quite enough to turn the wheel, and onlyspatters, spatters, spatters,' says Coldslaugh.

  "Sourcrout gig goggles again, as if he was swallerin' shelled cornwhole. 'That trick of wettin' the hay,' says he, 'to make it weighheavy, warn't cleverly done; it ain't pretty to be caught; it's onlybunglers do that.'

  "'He is so fond of temperance,' says Coldslaugh, 'he wanted to make hishay jine society, and drink cold water, too.'

  "Sourcrout gig goggles ag'in, till he takes a fit of the asmy, sets downon a stump, claps both hands on his sides, and coughs, and coughs tillhe finds coughing no joke no more. Oh dear, dear convarted men, thoughthey won't larf themselves, make others larf the worst kind, sometimes;don't they?

  "I do believe, on my soul, if religion was altogether left to thevoluntary in this world, it would die a nateral death; not that _menwouldn't support it_, but because it would be supported _under falsepretences_. Truth can't be long upheld by falsehood. Hypocrisy wouldchange its features, and intolerance its name; and religion wouldsoon degenerate into a cold, intriguing, onprincipled, marcilesssuperstition, that's a fact.

  "Yes, on the whole, I rather like these plain, decent, onpretendin',country churches here, although t'other ones remind me of old times,when I was an ontamed one too. Yes, I like an English church; but asfor Minister pretendin' for to come for to go for to preach agin thatbeautiful long-haired young rebel, Squire Absalom, for 'stealin' thehearts of the people,' why it's rather takin' the rag off the bush,ain't it?

  "Tell you what, Squire; there ain't a man in their whole church here,from Lord Canter Berry that preaches afore the Queen, to Parson Homilythat preached afore us, nor never was, nor never will be equal to OldMinister hisself for 'stealin' the hearts of the people.'"