“The Twelve Good Rules of the Most Blessed Martyr, King Charles First, of Blessed Memory.”
I was reading these in a loud, clear voice, when Miss Debby entered the room. She stopped and listened to me, with a countenance beaming with approbation.
“Go on, sonny!” she said coming up behind me, with an approving nod, when I blushed and stopped on seeing her. “Read them through; those are good rules for a man to form his life by.”
I wish I could remember now what these so highly praised rules were. The few that I can recall are not especially in accordance with the genius of our modern times. They began –
“1st. Profane no Divine Ordinances.
“2d. Touch no State Matter.
“3d. Pick no Quarrels.
“4th. Maintain no ill Opinions.”
Here my memory fails me, but I remember that, stimulated by Miss Deborah’s approbation, I did commit the whole of them to memory at the time, and repeated them with a readiness and fluency which drew upon me warm commendations from the dear old lady, and in fact from all in the house, though Ellery Davenport did shrug his shoulders contumaciously and give a sort of suppressed whistle of dissent.
“If we had minded those rules,” he said, “we should n’t where we are now.”
“No, indeed, you would n’t; the more ‘s the pity you did n’t,” said Miss Debby. “If I ‘d had the bringing of you up, you should be learning things like that, instead of trumpery French and democratic nonsense.”
“Speaking of French,” said Ellery, “I declare I forgot a package of gloves that I brought over especially for you and Aunty here, – the very best of Paris kid.”
“You may spare yourself the trouble of bringing them, cousin,” said Miss Deborah, coldly.” Whatever others may do, I trust I never shall be left to put a French glove on my hands. They may be all very fine, no doubt, but English gloves, made under her Majesty’s sanction, will always be good enough for me.”
“O, well, in that case I shall have the honor of presenting them to Lady Lothrop, unless her principles should be equally rigid.”
“I dare say Dorothy will take them,” said Miss Deborah. “When a woman has married a Continental parson, what can you expect of her? but, for my part, I should feel that I dishonored the house of the Lord to enter it with gloves on made by those atheistical French people. The fact is, we must put a stop to worldly conformities somewhere.”
“And you draw the line at French gloves,” said Ellery.
“No, indeed,” said Miss Deborah; “by no means French gloves. French novels, French philosophy, and, above all, French morals, or rather want of morals, – these are what I go against, Cousin Ellery.”
So saying, Miss Debby led the way to the breakfast-table, with an air of the most martial and determined moral principle.
I remember only one other incident of that morning before we went to church. The dear old lady had seemed sensibly affected by the levity with which Ellery Davenport generally spoke upon sacred subjects, and disturbed by her daughter’s confident assertions of his infidel sentiments. So she administered to him an admonition in her own way. A little before church-time she was sitting on the sofa, reading in her great Bible spread out on the table before her.
“Ellery,” she said, “come here and sit down by me. I want you to read me this text.”
“Certainly, Aunty, by all means,” he said, as he seated himself by her, bent his handsome head over the book, and, following the lead of her trembling finger, read: –
“And thou, Solomon, my son, know thou the God of thy fathers, and serve him with a perfect heart and a willing mind. If thou seek him, he will be found of thee, but if thou forsake him, he will cast thee off forever.”
“Ellery,” she said, with trembling earnestness, “think of that, my boy. O Ellery, remember!”
He turned and kissed her hand, and there certainly were tears in his eyes. “Aunty,” he said, “you must pray for me; I may be a good boy one of these days, who knows?”
There was no more preaching, and no more said; she only held his hand, looked lovingly at him, and stroked his forehead. “There have been a great many good people among your fathers, Ellery.”
“I know it,” he said.
At this moment Miss Debby came in with the summons to church. The family carriage came round for the old lady, but we were better pleased to walk up the street under convoy of Ellery Davenport, who made himself quite delightful to us. Tina obstinately refused to take his hand, and insisted upon walking only with Harry, though from time to time she cast glances at him over her shoulder, and he called her “a little chip of mother Eve’s block,” – at which she professed to feel great indignation.
The reader may remember my description of our meetinghouse at Oldtowr., and therefore will not wonder that the architecture of the Old North and its solemn-sounding chimes, though by no means remarkable compared with European churches, appeared to us a vision of wonder. We gazed with delighted awe at the chancel and the altar, with their massive draperies of crimson looped back with heavy gold cord and tassels, and revealing a cloud of little winged cherubs, whereat Tina’s eye grew large with awe, as if she had seen a vision. Above this there was a mystical Hebrew word emblazoned in a golden halo, while around the galleries of the house were marvellous little colored statuettes of angels blowing long golden trumpets. These figures had been taken from a privateer and presented to the church by a British man-of-war, and no child that saw them would ever forget them. Then there was the organ, whose wonderful sounds were heard by me for the first time in my life. There was also an indefinable impression of stately people that worshipped there. They all seemed to me like Lady Lothrop, rustling in silks and brocades; with gentlemen like Captain Brown, in scarlet cloaks and powdered hair. Not a crowded house by any means, but a well-ordered and select few, who performed all the responses and evolutions of the service with immaculate propriety. I was struck with every one’s kneeling and bowing the head on taking a seat in the church; even gay Ellery Davenport knelt down and hid his face in his hat, though what he did it for was a matter of some speculation with us afterward. Miss Debby took me under her special supervision. She gave me a prayer-book, found the places for me, and took me up and down with her through the whole service, giving her responses in such loud, clear, and energetic tones as entirely to acquit herself of her share of responsibility in the matter. The “true Church” received no detriment, so far as she was concerned. I was most especially edified and astonished by the deep courtesies which she and several distinguished-looking ladies made at the name of the Saviour in the Creed; so much so, that she was obliged to tap me on the head to indicate to me my own part in that portion of the Church service.
I was surprised to observe that Harry appeared perfectly familiar with the ceremony; and Lady Lothrop, who had him under her particular surveillance, looked on with wonder and approbation, as he quietly opened his prayer-book and went through the service with perfect regularity. Tina, who stood between Ellery Davenport and the old lady, seemed, to tell the truth, much too conscious of the amused attention with which he was regarding her little movements, notwithstanding the kindly efforts of her venerable guardian to guide her through the service. She resolutely refused to allow him to assist her, half-turning her back upon him, but slyly watching him from under her long eyelashes, in a way that afforded him great amusement.
The sermon which followed the prayers was of the most droning and sleepy kind. But as it was dispensed by a regularly ordained successor of the Apostles, Miss Deborah, though ordinarily the shrewdest and sharpest of womankind, and certainly capable of preaching a sermon far more to the point herself, sat bolt upright and listened to all those slumberous platitudes with the most reverential attention.
It yet remains a mystery to my mind, how a church which retains such a stimulating and inspiring liturgy could have such drowsy preaching, – how men could go through with the “Te Deum,” and the “Gloria in Excelsis,” wit
hout one thrill of inspiration, or one lift above the dust of earth, and, after uttering words which one would think might warm the frozen heart of the very dead, settle sleepily down into the quietest commonplace. Such, however, has been the sin of ritualism in all days, principally because human nature is, above all things, lazy, and needs to be thorned and goaded up those heights where it ought to fly.
Harry and I both had a very nice little nap during sermon-time, while Ellery Davenport made a rabbit of his pocket-handkerchief by way of paying his court to Tina, who sat shyly giggling and looking at him. After the services came the Easter dinner, to which, as a great privilege, we were admitted from first to last; although children in those days were held to belong strictly to the dessert, and only came in with the nuts and raisins. I remember Ellery Davenport seemed to be the life of the table, and kept everybody laughing. He seemed particularly fond of rousing up Miss Debby to those rigorous and energetic statements concerning Church and King which she delivered with such freedom.
“I don’t know how we are any of us to get to heaven now,” he said to Miss Debby. “Supposing I wanted to be confirmed, there is n’t a bishop in America.”
“Well, don’t you think they will send one over?” said Lady Widgery, with a face of great solicitude.
“Two, madam; it would take two in order to start the succession in America. The apostolic electricity cannot come down through one.”
“I heard that Dr. Franklin was negotiating with the Archbishop of Canterbury,” said Lady Lothrop.
“Yes, but they are not in the best humor toward us over there,” said Ellery. “You know what Franklin wrote back, don’t you?”
“No,” said Lady Widgery; “what was it?”
“Well, you see, he found Canterbury & Co. rather huffy, and somewhat on the high-and-mighty order with him, and, being a democratic American, he did n’t like it. So he wrote over that he did n’t see, for his part, why anybody that wanted to preach the Gospel could n’t preach it, without sending a thousand miles across the water to ask leave of a cross old gentleman at Canterbury.”
A shocked expression went round the table, and Miss Debby drew herself up. “That ‘s what I call a profane remark, Ellery Davenport,” she said.
“I did n’t make it, you understand.”
“No dear, you did n’t,” said the old lady. “Of course you would n’t say such a thing.”
“Of course I should n’t, Aunty, – O no. I ‘m only concerned to know how I shall be confirmed, if ever I want to be. Do you think there really is no other way to heaven, Miss Debby? Now, if the Archbishop of Canterbury won’t repent, and I do, – if he won’t send a bishop, and I become a good Christian, – don’t you think now the Church might open the door a little crack for me?”
“Why, of course, Ellery,” said Lady Lothrop. “We believe that many good people will be saved out of the Church.”
“My dear madam, that ‘s because you married a Congregational parson; you are getting illogical.”
“Ellery, you know better,” said Miss Debby, vigorously. “You know we hold that many good persons out of the Church are saved, though they are saved by uncovenanted mercies. There are no direct promises to any but those in the Church; they have no authorized ministry or sacraments.”
“What a dreadful condition these American colonies are in!” said Ellery; “it ‘s a result of our Revolution which never struck me before.”
“You can sneer as much as you please, it ‘s a solemn fact, Ellery; it ‘s the chief mischief of this dreadful rebellion.”
“Come, come, children,” said the old lady; “let ‘s talk about something else. We ‘ve been to the communion, and heard about ‘peace on earth and good-will to men.’ I always think of our blessed King George every time I take the communion wine out of those cups that he gave to our church.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Miss Debby; “it will be a long time before you get the American Congress to giving communion services, like our good, pious King George.”
“It ‘s a pity pious folks are so apt to be pig-headed,” said Ellery, in a tone just loud enough to stir up Miss Debby, but not to catch the ear of the old lady.
“I suppose there never was such a pious family as our royal family,” said Lady Widgery. “I have been told that Queen Charlotte reads prayers with her maids regularly every night, and we all know how our blessed King read prayers beside a dying cottager.”
“I do not know what the reason is,” said Ellery Davenport, reflectively, “but political tyrants as a general thing are very pious men. The worse their political actions are, the more they pray. Perhaps it is on the principle of compensation, just as animals that are incapacitated from helping themselves in one way have some corresponding organ in another direction.”
“I agree with you that kings are generally religious,” said Lady Widgery, “and you must admit that, if monarchy makes men religious, it is an argument in its favor, because there is nothing so important as religion, you know.”
“The argument, madam, is a profound one, and does credit to your discernment; but the question now is, since it has pleased Providence to prosper rebellion, and allow a community to be founded without any true church, or any means of getting at true ordinances and sacraments, what young fellows like us are to do about it.”
“I ‘ll tell you, Ellery,” said the old lady, laying hold of his arm. “‘ Know the God of thy fathers, and serve him with a perfect heart and willing mind,’ and everything will come right.”
“But, even then, I could n’t belong to ‘the true Church,’” said Ellery.
“You ‘d belong to the church of all good people,” said the old lady, “and that ‘s the main thing.”
“Aunty, you are always right,” he said.
Now I listened with the sharpest attention to all this conversation, which was as bewildering to me as all the rest of the scenery and surroundings of this extraordinary visit had been.
Miss Debby’s martial and declaratory air, the vigorous faith in her statements which she appeared to have, were quite a match, it seemed to me, for similar statements of a contrary nature which I had heard from my respected grandmother; and I could n’t help wondering in my own mind what strange concussions of the elementary powers would result if ever these two should be brought together. To use a modern figure, it would be like the meeting of two full-charged railroad engines, from opposite directions, on the same track.
After dinner, in the evening, instead of the usual Service of Family prayers, Miss Debby catechised her family in a vigorous and determined manner. We children went and stood up with the row of men and maid servants, and Harry proved to have a very good knowledge of the catechism, but Tina and I only compassed our answers by repeating them after Miss Debby; and she applied herself to teaching us as if this were the only opportunity of getting the truth we were ever to have in our lives.
In fact, Miss Debby made a current of electricity that, for the time being, carried me completely away, and I exerted myself to the utmost to appear well before her, especially as I had gathered from Aunt Lois and Aunt Keziah’s conversations, that whatever went on in this mansion belonged strictly to upper circles of society, dimly known and revered. American democracy had not in those days become a practical thing, so as to outgrow the result of generations of reverence for the upper classes. And the man-servant and the maid-servants seemed so humble, and Miss Debby so victorious and dominant, that I could n’t help feeling what a grand thing the true Church must be, and find growing in myself the desires of a submissive catechumen.
As to the catechism itself, I don’t recollect that I thought one moment what a word of it meant, I was so absorbed and busy in the mere effort of repeating it after Miss Debby’s rapid dictation.
The only comparison I remember to have made with that which I had been accustomed to recite in school every Saturday respected the superior case of answering the first question; which required me, instead of relating in metaphysical terms what
“man’s chief end” was in time and eternity, to give a plain statement of what my own name was on this mortal earth.
This first question, as being easiest, was put to Tina, who dimpled and colored and flashed out of her eyes, as she usually did when addressed, looked shyly across at Ellery Davenport, who sat with an air of negligent amusement contemplating the scene, and then answered with sufficient precision and distinctness, “Eglantine Percival.”
He gave a little start, as if some sudden train or recollection had been awakened, and looked at her with intense attention; and when Ellery Davenport fixed his attention upon anybody, there was so much fire and electricity in his eyes that they seemed to be felt, even at a distance; and I saw that Tina constantly colored and giggled, and seemed so excited that she scarcely knew what she was saying, till at last Miss Debby, perceiving this, turned sharp round upon him, and said, “Ellery Davenport, if you have n’t any religion yourself, I wish you would n’t interrupt my instructions.”
Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe Page 270
