View of Scaw Fell
—An unlessoned Girl, unschool’d, unpractis’d;Happy in this she is not yet so oldBut she may learn; and happier than this,She is not bred so dull but she can learn;Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spiritCommits itself to yours, to be directed.Shakspere.
—An unlessoned Girl, unschool’d, unpractis’d;Happy in this she is not yet so oldBut she may learn; and happier than this,She is not bred so dull but she can learn;Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spiritCommits itself to yours, to be directed.
Shakspere.
“Robert Walkerwas less surprised at my history (which it took me a long time to tell) than I had expected him to be. In fact he knew almost every thing that was going on in his parish, and people often wondered how he came to know so intimately matters concerning themselves, which they had supposed were closely locked up in their own breasts alone. When I told him of the pestilent doctrines which the stranger was spreading among the miners and others of his flock, he immediately reminded me that he had darkly hinted at this in the sermon which he preached to us before our confirmation; the substance of which I have just related to you. I thought he would have split his sides with laughing when I told him of the way in which Gawen Braithwaite and I had dispersed the assembly by our sudden and unintentional intrusion into their councils; and tapping me playfully on the cheek, while his eyes ran over with tears of mirth, he said, ‘Take care, my good lad, as long as you live, that you never play the devil in any other character than you did last night! He is akittlecustomer to deal with, and generally has the best of it in the end with those who meddle too much with his concerns.Resistthe devil,’ said he solemnly, ‘resist the devil and he will flee from you—aye,’ he added, smiling once more at the recollection,quite as fast as sillyWillie Tysonand his manPeter!’
“‘And so they ran, did they?’ continued he, for he could not get the amusing notion out of his head, ‘veryfast, eh?’
“‘Like rats out of a burning corn-stack,’ said I.
“‘Idowish I had been with you,’ said the old man; ‘I would have set up a halloo that would have rung in Willie’s ears till—till—till he gets Coniston Hall!’ and he laughed once more till his sides shook again.
“His mood, however, was soon changed into sober sadness, when I proceeded to explain to him how the handsome stranger had won the heart of my poor sister Martha, and how deeply and unchangeably I feared her affections were engaged. Martha was a great favourite with Mr. Walker, as indeed she was with every one who knew her; and he saw at once the difficulty of her situation. ‘Poor thing!’ said he, with a deep expression of melancholy foreboding on his countenance, ‘what is to become of her! I know her well: she has not given her heart hastily, nor hastily will she withdraw it. What a fiend he must be to steal the affections of one so good, so innocent, and so confiding! Bad men are always selfish; and with all his professions of zeal for the liberty and instruction of mankind, he could not forget his own interests, or restrain his passions. ’Tis always thus; they who deal with evil on a large scale, are almost sure to indulge in a little private vice on their own account! Yet why condemn him hastily? The man that could win the heart ofourMartha must have in him something that is plausible at least, if not estimable. She would not give away her diamonds forIrtonpearls.[78]Who knows but the believing maiden may be even now converting the unbelieving lover? I will speak to her on the subject, and that before I am a day older. I think, my young friend, she will not hesitate to confess to me her inmost thoughts?’
“‘I will answer for that,’ said I; ‘but how is the interview to be brought about? I shrink from entering upon the subject with her myself, and should be the unwilling bearer of any message which might lead her to suspect that I had in any way played a false part towards her.’
“‘Leave that to me,’ said the old man, ‘I see no difficulty in the matter.’ He turned to his little writing-table, which drew out from beneath his book shelves, (for we were in his little room on the top of the house which he had fitted up for his private study,) and wrote as follows:
“‘My dear Martha,I wish to see you tomorrow on particular business, and at eleven o’clock. Bring your brother with you as a companion by the way. Your affectionate Pastor,Robert Walker.’
“‘My dear Martha,
I wish to see you tomorrow on particular business, and at eleven o’clock. Bring your brother with you as a companion by the way. Your affectionate Pastor,
Robert Walker.’
“This note removed every difficulty at once, as far as I was concerned. I was thus not supposed to have any knowledge whatever of the occasion of this summons, but was merely to be an attendant on my sister’s steps. Now, sir, it is very remarkable, and I have never since been able to account for it, that though I have generally well remembered (as you have heard) the state of the sky and weather, and the little incidents of the journey, on every other occasion that I have thought of sufficient importance to relate to you, (for such things always make a deep impression on the mind of a mountaineer,) yet, on this occasion—one of the last that I shall ever forget—the whole landscape is to me a perfect blank, and I have not the slightest recollection of any single event that occurred from the moment when poor Martha and I left our father’s door, to that when we stood before the parsonage of Seathwaite, and were welcomed by Robert Walker into his dark and spacious dining-room!Thatwelcome, and the soft yet somewhat melancholy smile on his countenance, I shallneverforget. As we stood together, looking out from the long low window on the rich landscape before us, we saw thehandsome stranger cross the little foot-bridge that led from the other side of the Duddon to the Parsonage, and make his way directly for the door of the house. Martha, who was the first to observe him, turned very pale, as if on the point of fainting, and said in an anxious low voice to Mr. Walker, ‘I cannot meet him here!’ and made for the door as if to escape. The old man laid his hand gently on her arm and said, ‘You are too late to avoid him, but go behind thesquabif you wish not to be seen; you will be safe enough there.’
“This squab was a long oaken seat, or settle, with a high wooden back, running from the fire-place half way down the middle of the room. I dare say such seats (and very uncomfortable they are) are still to be found in most of the old farm-houses in the North.
“The stranger entered as Martha disappeared; and I was very much struck with the ease and grace of his manner. He wore the look and air of one who was on the best possible terms with himself and all the world. Much as I felt disposed to dislike him, I could not help admiring both his person and address. There was an awkwardness and nervous action about Mr. Walker, which I now observed for the first time, that showed to great disadvantage when compared with the stranger’s ease and self-possession.
“After courteously placing a seat for his visitor, Mr. Walker took his accustomed place in his arm-chair in the corner, and then his wonted calmness and dignity at once returned. The stranger was the first to break the silence.
“‘Well, reverend sir,’ said he, with a bland smile on his face, ‘I am here at your own request. How you found out my place of abode I am at some loss to discover, and what your particular business may be with me, I can still less conjecture. I shall doubtless learn both at your convenience.’
“There was nothing in the words of this address to give the slightest offence; yet there was something in the tone in which it was uttered, to excite uncomfortable feelings in my mind, and I saw Mr. Walker slightlycolour, as if he felt somewhat nettled at the manner at least of the address. Yet the feeling, if such existed, soon passed off; and he resumed his usual calm yet somewhat firm expression of countenance as he said:
“‘The second part of your difficulty, sir, you have a right to have solved, as it shall soon be; with regard to the first it seems less to the purpose. I ought in the first place to say, that it is simply in my public character as the authorized preacher of the Gospel in this parish, that I have taken what would otherwise seem a great liberty with a perfect stranger, to request an interview with him, without first assigning grounds for the request. That you have so readily complied with it, I beg to offer you my thanks.’
“I was much struck with the somewhat stately form of language which Mr. Walker in this case assumed—so different from his ordinary discourse with his plain country parishioners. He took up the tone of the scholar and the gentleman with more ease than I had thought it possible for one whose course of life had been so long removed from the society of his equals.
“‘Sir,’ said the stranger, ‘before you proceed further, allow me to protest against your assumption, that in your public character you have a right to exercise over me any superintendence or control. I belong not to your flock, I subscribe not to your creed. Even the tyrannical Church of Rome professes to fetter the minds and torture the limbs of those only who have at some period professed allegiance to her doctrines; and these are not days when the Church of England can safely arrogate to herself a power (however anxiously she may long to do so) which would rouse the dormant spirit even of an Italian slave.’
“‘Pardon me,’ said Mr. Walker, with the utmost calmness; ‘over you I neither claim nor wish to exercise any authority whatever. But there are those over whose religious condition the laws both ofGodand man have given me power and authority, and uponthemI am bound to exercise it, both for their sakes and my own. The Church has devised a certain system which shedeclares to be founded on Scripture, and propounds it to all her people as their rule of faith and life. I, having given my full assent and consent to that system, have accepted the office, under her authority, of spreading and propagating that system among those committed by her (under the Bishop) to my care. I am not, then, here to reason out, either with you or my people, a new system, but simply to enforce one long established by the Church at large. I am bound by my oath “to banish and drive away all erroneous and strange doctrines,” and this by every means by which the laws ofGodand man may aid me. While then you are at full liberty, as far as I am concerned, to entertain any notions you may please as to religion or politics; you are not, at the same time, equally at liberty to spread them abroad among my flock, if I can by fair means prevent it—and prevent it, byGod’s blessing, I will!’
“The stranger smiled scornfully at the old man’s energy of expression, and said; ‘My venerable old friend, attempt not what you cannot accomplish. The day is gone by, when recluses like you, ignorant of the world and of the strides which it has of late been making towards full liberty of thought and action, could keep men’s minds in darkness by the vain terrors of an expiring superstition. Be content to lament in your chimney corner over the obstinacy of this perverse generation, and leave the course of events to march on towards that high destination which assuredly you cannot hinder.’
“‘You much mistake the matter,’ replied Mr. Walker, ‘if you suppose that we, in these remote regions of the globe, are necessarily ignorant of the on-goings of the world beyond our barren mountains. Our books are our telescopes, which bring distant things distinctly before our observation; and history tells me the staleness and the vanishing nature of those theories which to you seem all novelty and permanence. Nor think that I threaten without power to execute my threats. I shall not wait to cure the evil which you may occasion; my duty is toprevent; and that I can do by a power of the extent ofwhich you are probably little aware. I thankGodit is a moral power, but not, on that account, the more easy to be resisted. Recollect how long I have presided over these few sheep in the wilderness, and then consider whether, by this time, they must not well know the voice of their master! Why, sir, you could not hide your head in a cottage between Eskdale Moor and Muncaster Fell, but I, did I wish it, could know where it rested, and almost what it meditated, by next morning! Take, then, my advice, and leave this country for ever. I threaten you with no loss of life or limb; but if you are found within these bounds after this solemn warning, your movements will be watched and dogged by those who have it in their power most effectually to put a stop to your designs. The mountain top will be no safeguard—the gloomy mine no security. Nay, the very fiends themselves will rise in rebellion at my bidding, and fling dismay into the hearts of those who rashly deny their existence!’
“The stranger cast on the old man a look of the utmost surprise, as he gave utterance to these last words. The scene in the mine, no doubt, rushed upon his recollection; and he looked hard at Mr. Walker, as if he wished to trace in his countenance some signs of his being privy to the ghostly visitation of the night before. But nothing could be seen there but the proofs of a mind determined to carry through its high resolves; and it was with somewhat of a subdued tone that the stranger at last resumed the conversation.
“‘I doubt not,’ said he, ‘that you have it in your power fully to execute your threats. I have heard and seen enough already to believe it. But why, sir—pardon me, I cannot account for it—why shouldyoushow so much zeal in a cause which seems so little deserving of your support,—a Church, which has left merit like yours to pine in neglect amid these barren mountains; and a State, which binds you to keep the peace among these half-civilized barbarians, and does not reward your pains with even the barren smile of its countenance?’
“The old man turned upon the stranger a look inwhich a lurking smile was mixed up with much sternness of expression, and said: ‘Well may I be anxious to remove such a tempter as you from my unsuspecting flock, when you thus artfully assail what you doubtless deem the weak side of even the shepherd himself! My lot indeed may seem to you to be somewhat hard; but I answer in one word—a stronger than which the king himself cannot use—IAM HAPPY. I am where my Master placed me, and that of itself is enough for a good soldier ofJesus Christ. But, sir, even in a worldly point of view I am happy, nay, to be envied by those who look with narrow views (pardon me) like yourself, at what makes happiness here below. I suppose you think wealth, power, and fame to be the three things most to be desired to constitute a happy man; and in which of these am I so deficient, as to give me ground for repining at the lot which has been assigned me? With regard to wealth–though I certainly can boast of none of the superfluities of life, yet by our own industry and occupation (without which even abundance cannot give enjoyment) I and my wife have acquired more of the good things of this life, than either of us, from the condition of our birth, had a reasonable right to look for; and who can justly complain, whose lot in life is better than his father’s? As to power—I think you have already had abundant proof that I possess it, in my own sphere of action, in no ordinary degree. What absolute monarch, or what turbulent populace (and they are much the same) reigns so uncontrolled as I over the hearts and wills (but, I am proud to add,through the affections) of the people of Seathwaite? Power is mine, such as Rome only dreamt of; the greater because it is never exercised. And as for fame—the desire of which is perhaps the least blameable of our earthly passions, because it springs out of our innate hope of immortality—who has it more, in possession and in prospect, than the old feeble individual before you? These mountains are visited by tourists attracted by the beauty and splendour of our rural scenes; but the humble residence of Robert Walker is not passed by as the least interesting among them.The Lord ofMuncaster Castledoffs that hat to his country pastor, which he would not take off before his monarch on the throne.[85]My children—and a fine healthy, though somewhat numerous race they are—will hand down my name to the next generation, I trust, as untarnished as they received it; and my children’s children, unless they are strangely forgetful of the pious lessons which their fathers have taught them, may hold it their highest honour to be descended from Robert Walker; and find that name of itself a passport and a recommendation even in what is called a cold and heartless world. We have lived here, sir, my life-companion and I, so long, as almost to form part of the landscape. Good Bishop Jeremy Taylor tells a story of an old couple in Ireland, who had resided so long in the same village that if they had given themselves out to be Adam and Eve, there was no one alive to contradict then. We are almost in the same condition. While, then, these rocks shall frown and that stream shall flow, my name, humble as it may be, is assured of its earthly immortality. The future Poet, whom the spirit of the Church and these divine scenes shall inspire with strains that shall blend the music of earth with the higher notes of heaven, will not omit my name from his pictures, when he paints my belovedDuddonin colours which shall last for ever; and who knows but some more lowly historian, smit with the love of my most humble but sincere service to myMaster, shall hold up my name as a watchword to the fire-side of the quiet cottager; and teach the farmer at his plough, and the weaver at his loom, to call to mind my history; recommending to their sons patience, and perseverance, and piety, by the example (oh, how weak, feeble, and failing!) of Robert Walker!’
“The old man had risen from his chair, and paced the room with rapid strides as he gave utterance to the last sentences of this prophetic vision of his future history; and it was some time before his eye, which was sparklingwith pious gratitude toGodfor all His blessings, caught that of the stranger, as it was fixed on him with the expression of a cold and quiet sneer. His countenance immediately changed, and he coloured slightly at having thus exposed himself, in his open-heartedness, to the charge of a vanity, which was surely, in this case, of a most pardonable nature. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘I have become a fool in glorying—you have compelled me. I have shown you that, on your own selfish principles, I have indeed much to be thankful for. But we must bring this matter to a close. I look for a promise from you, which you must see it would be useless to withhold, that you will vex this quiet district no longer with your presence.’
“‘I go,’ said he, ‘father; but I go not alone! You, and this simple youth shall know that there is at leastoneheart here which sympathizes with my feelings, and will not shrink from sharing my fortunes. Love, father, is stronger than’—
“‘IRENOUNCE HIM!’ exclaimed poor Martha, rushing forward from behind the screen under which she had been sheltered during this remarkable conversation, and standing erect in the middle of the room with her eye boldly fixed on the face of the wondering stranger—‘I renounce him, now and for ever! Oh Frederick!’
“I shall never forget her expression at that moment. ‘Father,’ she continued, ‘I love him’—
“‘Lovedhim, you would say, my child.’
“‘Nay, father,lovehim still dearly, and will for ever love him!’
“‘Then fly with me,’ said the stranger, ‘to a land less inhospitable than this’—
“‘No, Frederick! that cannot,shallnot be. At my baptism I was married to Another, and with one who has stained his baptismal robes will Ineverbe united!’
“This is some plot.’
“‘No, Frederick, believe it not. All is honourable, except—oh, Frederick, why did you not tell me the truth? Begone; if you can, be happy; but never see me more!’
“And they parted, and they never did see each other more!”
Shewas a phantom of delightWhen first she gleamed upon my sight;A lovely apparition, sentTo be a moment’s ornament. . . .I saw her, upon nearer view,A Spirit, yet a Woman too!Her household motions light and free,And steps of virgin-liberty. . .A perfect Woman, nobly planned,To warn, to comfort, and command;And yet a Spirit still, and brightWith something of an angel-light.Wordsworth.
Shewas a phantom of delightWhen first she gleamed upon my sight;A lovely apparition, sentTo be a moment’s ornament. . . .I saw her, upon nearer view,A Spirit, yet a Woman too!Her household motions light and free,And steps of virgin-liberty. . .A perfect Woman, nobly planned,To warn, to comfort, and command;And yet a Spirit still, and brightWith something of an angel-light.
Wordsworth.
“Thegloom, which had for some time been lowering darkly round our house, now burst over our heads with the fury of a thunder-storm. You must often have observed, sir, that as all the little ailments of a man’s body, which singly are insignificant enough, gradually combine together, and produce death; so the misfortunes of life, long kept at a distance, seem at last to come upon an individual or a family with one united assault, and press it with irresistible force to the very ground. So it was with us. My father, habitually silent and reserved, began to talk more, especially to strangers, and to show a greater liveliness of manner than we had ever observed in him before. He spoke about the value of his land, and the produce of his crops, in a way to make me think that I had a very comfortable prospect of inheritance before me, and I considered myself already as one of the establishedstatesmenof the valley. Alas! how puzzling is poor human nature! At the very time when my father seemed most to rejoice in his possessions, he had just come to the conviction that he could no longer retain them. He had never really felt their value till they were about to pass away from him and his race for ever! Hisfather had been a somewhat expensive man in his habits, and had mortgaged his little estate to the father of Tom Hebblethwaite, in the hope, as times were then very good, of quickly redeeming it. But worse times soon succeeded; and my poor father and mother, with all their care and industry, were not able even to pay the interest of the sum borrowed, so that the debt gradually increased in amount, and the unavoidable issue was clearly foreseen. This disheartening news my father took a quiet opportunity of communicating to me, my poor mother standing by, and the silent tears rolling down her cheeks—not for herself, but for her children.
“‘My dear lad,’ said he, ‘you mustfendfor yourself. I have engaged that you shall become apprentice to an engraver in Manchester, who is a distant relation of your mother’s, and, I am told, in a very thriving condition. Your mother and I have given you learning, and we hope, good principles; we had wished to have given you more, butGod’s will be done.’
“A change now came over the whole course of my thoughts. It was like telling me that I was to pass my days in another world, so little notion had I of anything that was going on beyond the boundaries of my native mountains; and I speculated, and wondered, till my mind became confused and perplexed, and I was unable to attend to even the commonest concerns of life. I will hasten over this distressing period, for it is too painful to dwell on, even at this distance of time. I believe that age magnifies the anxieties that are far off, as much as it deadens the pain of those that are near. The recollection to me now, is more grievous than was the reality at the time. Robert Walker took leave of me with much sound advice, but with a cheerfulness that removed much of my horror—for that was what I felt—at leaving, probably for ever, my native hills.
“‘My good lad,’ said he, ‘you are only about to do what thousands have done before you—leave these barren mountains for a scene of usefulness to which you are evidently called by your heavenlyFather. Many of myflock have gone before you in the same path, and most of them, I thankGod, have been highly successful in their labours. Some of the highest and richest merchants in Manchester drew their first breath in these humble valleys, and were taught at my village school. Having here been taught the lessons of frugality, industry, and attention to religious duties, they were thus trained for the after-toils of life, and have become an honour to their country and their Church. But as for you, I would rather see you good than rich. The one, withGod’s grace, you can be; the other may depend on a thousand accidents. I have prepared a little present for you, which I trust you will always cherish as proof of my good will. The Bible I know you have, and its fitting companion and interpreter, the Prayer-book: here is ‘Nelson’s Companion to the Fasts and Festivals of the Church of England,’ the best book, next to the Prayer-book, that the uninspired mind of man ever compiled; full of learning, full of piety, full of prayer. Know this book well, and you will be wiser than your teachers; for to understand and retain in one’s mind the contents of one such book as this, is better than to read whole libraries, and to have but a dim and misty recollection of them all; and here is another good book, which you will find a valuable companion to you in some of your silent and solitary hours—‘The Whole Duty of Man.’ Blessed be the memory of the pious lady who wrote it! And may the blessing ofGodrest for ever on the family which sheltered the saintlyHammondin his persecutions, and produced her who left to the world this invaluable legacy![89]In these books you have a religious library which will meet all your spiritual wants. Pray for me, as I shall not cease to pray for you—forthisis the way to remember friends that are far off; and now go, and theLordbe with thee!’
“But I had another parting of a very different kind to encounter—with my poor sisterMartha. Since her separation from her lover, she had gone about her daily avocations with her usual, and even more than her usualcheerfulness and quiet alacrity. Indeed her eye sparkled with more brilliance, and her spirits rose to a higher pitch of excitement than I had ever before observed. She grew perceptibly thinner, but no alarm was thereby occasioned, as her colour was even heightened in brightness, and her mind seemed peaceful and happy. Yet I had watched her with more than common anxiety, and felt much alarmed for her state, though I could hardly assign the grounds of my fears. A few days before it was proposed that I should take my departure, she called me into her room after the rest of the family had retired to rest, and desired me to sit down by her side, with a seriousness of manner which seemed to show that she had some important communication to make.
“‘Brother,’ said she, ‘we part soon; it may be sooner than you expect.’
“‘How so?’ said I.
“‘You must listen to my tale. We have never talked abouthimsince we parted at Mr. Walker’s. I have never repented what I did then.’
“‘Oh, how nobly you acted, dear sister,’ said I, ‘and how little you seem to have felt the shock of such a parting. How I love you for your determination! You have never seen him since?’
“‘I saw him last night!’
“‘Indeed?’
“‘Yes—last night. He stood by my bed-side, looking most pale and ghastly; and reproached me with deserting him, and leaving him to his fate. He said that I might have saved him by converting him from his evil ways, but now on me must rest the consequences of his ruin, both in body and soul.’
“‘It must surely have been a troubled dream!’
“‘No, brother, it was a sad reality. I appeared to myself as wide awake as I am at this moment, and though my reason tells me that hecouldnot be there, I saw him with as sober a mind, and an eye as steady as I see you now!’
“‘And how do you explain this strange delusion?’
“‘Easily—I amDYING! Look at this hand,’ said she, holding up her taper fingers before the candle. I could distinctly see the flame through the transparent skin, and trace the blue fret-work of the veins, as though they had been traced with a lead pencil on a sheet of white paper. I saw that all was over!
“‘Brother,’ said she, ‘I do not regret my past conduct in this matter; on the contrary, I rejoice in it as the only proof of fidelity that I have been permitted to give to the law of my divineMaster. Could I believe that I might have saved him—but no, I will not think it possible! I was not to do evil that good might come. My Bible, Robert Walker, and my own heart approve of what I have done; and if I die for it, it may be that I shall live for it (through mySaviour’s Blood) hereafter. Brother, pray for me! I dread the coming night; but I trust to theLord’s power to drive away from my pillow evil thoughts, and evil spirits. My mind begins to wander—I must to prayer. Come to me early to-morrow morning. Good night, andGodbless you!’
“I went early according to her request, anxious to hear her report of the past night, and sincerely praying that it might have been more peaceful than my own. I stood by her bed-side, and called her name: all was still. I opened her window-curtain (bed-curtain there was none) and gazed on her face. She was dead! Her hands were folded peacefully on her breast, showing that she had passed away in prayer, and there was a faint—a very faint—smile still lingering on her lips, as though at the very moment when she closed her eyes on earth she had just caught a glimpse of heaven.—Poor Martha!”[91]
After a pause, the old man proceeded—“I will say no more of my final parting, because I would avoid mymother’s name. Behold me then inSalford! Hard at work from morning till night, breathing the dense and foggy air of Hanging-ditch, instead of the pure and invigorating breezes of Tilberthwaite and Yewdale. Much have I learnt, from sad experience, during my long life, of the condition of the labouring classes in this busy hive of men, and much could I tell you of cruelty on the part of masters, and of ingratitude and improvidence on the part of men. But I will keep these matters for another occasion. Suffice it to say, that I believe a manufacturing state may andwillbecome (though it may be neither in my time nor yours) quite as happy and as healthy a one as that of the best-regulated agricultural district. But, sir, the reformation must begin at the other end—it must be from the top first, and then to the bottom! I will tell you a little secret—the men,as a body,are quite as well educated for their station in life,as the masters,as a body,are for theirs. The next generation may see masters who have been brought up to the trade of masters, and not merely men who have become masters by good fortune; and then may we hope for a thorough reform in the whole system of conduct of masters and men towards each other; of which, till then, I almost despair. Meantime, if the Church had fair play, she would throw her healing branch into the bitter waters which surround us, and teach mutual love and forbearance to ‘all sorts and conditions of men.’”
“I fully agree with you,” said I; “we have heard much of late of the want of education among the poor; I hope we shall hear, soon, of the necessity of a better system of education among the rich. But, my good old friend, you are quite forgetting that your tale is about anything else than that with which it professed to begin, ‘The Old Church Clock.’”
“Right! my dear sir; like many other old men I have allowed my tongue to out-run my tale. Well, sir, Sunday came—a day of joy to me, both as a rest from unusual labour, and as an opportunity of pouring out my soulin prayer in the manner that I used to do in my native mountains; so that I looked to be reminded of my temporal and eternal home, by joining once more in the same form of worship with my absent parents, and my good old pastor, Robert Walker. Little do they know of the beauty of a prescribed form of prayer who have never offered it up in a distant land! Alas! how were my hopes and expectations disappointed! I naturally entered the first place of worship within my reach, expecting it to be, like Seathwaite chapel, free and open to all comers. But I was woefully mistaken! A well-cloaked and liveried beadle soon informed me that there was no room for strangers, and that the aisle was the only place for me. It was true that I had this advantage over the sleepers in the well-cushioned pews around me, that I could kneel in prayer toGod, whilst the rest were compelled to sit in His presence while they asked Him to forgive them their sins! Still it was most painful to me to worship in communion with those to whom my joining with them in prayer was an unwelcome act; and I now felt myself really a solitary amidst crowds, when, not even in the presence of our commonFather, had they any sympathy with their homeless brother! Well, sir, time passed on; and among my smaller grievances was the occasionally receiving, and indeed deserving a reprimand from my over-looker, for having been behind my time in a morning, at the early hour at which the work of our establishment commenced. Six was the precise hour; and even a minute behind that time subjected the truant to a serious fine. I well remember, one cold wintry morning, looking anxiously for the first sight of the Old Church Clock, as I crossed the Salford bridge into Manchester, and saw, to my horror, that it pointed to exactly five minutes past that hour. There seemed to my imagination an expression of strong displeasure in the hard outlines of that old clock’s face, which administered a far stronger rebuke to me than the violent and unfeeling language which was addressed to me by the over-looker; and I resolved, if it were possible, not to fall into thesame disgrace again. The next morning I was, by the same clock, ten minutes before my time. The old clock seemed to smile at my punctuality, as I do now at the recollection. How apt is the youthful mind to put a portion of its own overflowing life even into inanimate things! And what dead thing is so like a living one as a clock?”
We talked with open heart, and tongueAffectionate and true,A pair of friends, though I was young,And Matthew seventy-two.* * * * *And, ere we came to Leonard’s rock,He sang those witty rhymesAbout the crazyOld Church Clock,And the bewildered chimes.Wordsworth.
We talked with open heart, and tongueAffectionate and true,A pair of friends, though I was young,And Matthew seventy-two.
* * * * *
And, ere we came to Leonard’s rock,He sang those witty rhymesAbout the crazyOld Church Clock,And the bewildered chimes.
Wordsworth.
“I gradually established an acquaintance with this old Clock. It had already proved itself a faithful friend—indeed the only one that I had yet found in Manchester; for my mother’s distant relation was too much involved in the all-absorbing pursuit of making money, to have any room in his thoughts for the wishes and feelings of a poor country cousin like myself. The Clock, however, had grown to be so intimate an acquaintance, that I one day took advantage of a leisure hour to pay it a nearer visit; and was very attentively looking up into its face from the foot of the tower, in the space between it and the houses—which space was then exceedingly narrow, (the houses are now happily taken down,) when my shoulders were suddenly assailed by a very smart blow with a stick, from some person from behind! I turned sharply round, as might be expected, and saw a little active old man, dressed in a suit of rusty black, with a hat somewhat of a clerical shape, and a pair of sharp grey eyes twinkling under very long and very shaggy eye-brows, in the very act of raising his cane for the purpose of repeating the salute. I immediately twisted the offensive weapon out of his grasp, and seeing the reverend character of the assailant, exclaimed, ‘Nemo me impune’—flourishing, at the same time, the cane over his head, as if about toreturn the blow. Nothing daunted with my threat, the little man stood his ground bravely; and said, with a look of mingled fun and fury, ‘Who beat that bit of Latin into your foolish head?’
“‘One,’ said I, ‘whose hand was quite as heavy as yours, though he did not lay on half so hard as you do!’
“‘All the worse—all the worse. Had he struck harder then, you would have needed it less now! But why do you stop up the way to church, and stand gazing up to that tower, as if you were planning to rob the belfry?’
“‘I was thinking,’ said I, for I began to be more amused than angry with the old man, ‘I was thinking, when your cane interrupted my meditations, why it was that men placed clocks in the towers of churches!’
“‘That is easily answered, man; to teach you that time is a sacred thing.’
“‘That is indeed an answer,’ I replied; ‘and one worthy of my old friend Mr. Walker of Seathwaite!’
“‘Mr. Walker!’ exclaimed the old gentleman, in great surprise, ‘what knowest thou of Mr. Walker? a very good man he is, and a very good scholar—not of the University, though—but a good scholar, and an old friend of mine; what knowest thou of him, man?’
“‘Know him! Why he is my old pastor and master—the best friend I have in all the world! Oh, sir! If you know him, you must be a good man too!’
“‘Dont be too sure of that!’ said the old gentleman, somewhat pettishly; ‘there are two opinions on that subject, I promise you. Which of themImay entertain, is no concern of yours!’
“‘Well, sir, but I am sure if you are a friend of Mr. Walker’s, you will do me one service for his sake—the greatest you ever did to a poor lad in your life—you will tell me where I may go to church on Sundays.’
“‘His cane, which I had restored to him, dropped to the ground, and he held up his hands in mute astonishment. ‘The lad’s lost his wits,’ he said, as if to himself—‘clean gyte, as his old friend Robert Walker wouldsay! There he is, standing before a church door wide open to receive him, and high enough for even his long legs to stride under, and he coolly asks me where he may go to church on Sundays! Why, man,thereyou may go to church, not only on Sundays, but every day in the week—and the oftener the better.’
“It was odd that this had never struck me before; but I had fancied, I suppose from its size and beauty, that this was a church intended, like those I had already tried, only for the accommodation of the rich; and I said so to him whom I was addressing.
“The old gentleman smiled at my simplicity, but there was more expression of kindness in his countenance than I had hitherto observed. ‘The rich,’—said he, with a tone of contempt, ‘why, man, that is theParish Church, free to all alike, rich and poor, good and bad. The poor are by far the greater number, and, between ourselves, rather the better behaved and more attentive class, of the two. The rich take liberties with me sometimes, which the poordarenot—if they did, I would break every bone in their skin! But,’ said he in a lower tone, ‘I dont think any of them wish me much ill, after all.’
“Then, taking me by the hand, he said, ‘And so, my poor lad, you feared to come into this church because you thought it was the church only of the rich man! Come along with me, and I will soon provide you with a sitting.’
“He dragged me with a rapid step through the church-door, and up the middle aisle, till he came to a place which he doubtless knew to be at that time unoccupied; and setting me down with great force in one corner of a bench, he said, ‘There! sit there! That is your seat as long as you occupy it punctually. If any one shall disturb you, say that old Rivers, the Reverend Joseph Rivers, placed you there; and I should like to see the man that dares disturb you after that!’ and he flourished his cane with an emphasis which seemed to show thatthe consequences of so rash an act would indeed be serious!
“Such, sir, was my introduction to the Parish Church, and such is the favour—the inestimable blessing—which I owe to the Old Church Clock! How often have I wished that the same blessing could be extended to the multitudes of young men that pour annually from the country into this great metropolis of manufactures and commerce, even if it were accompanied with the sharp discipline of old Mr. Rivers’ cane, which I experienced! Sir, thousands are lost—lost for ever—from the want which I felt, and from which the Old Clock delivered me—want of church-room! It gives them first the plea to spend the Sunday in idleness; and a Sunday so spent is but a preface to one of vice and dissipation. Would that there were a dozen Old Churches in this vast hive of human beings! Well, sir, that seat I have occupied from that day to the present hour—full five-and-forty years! They have been years of trial, and sometimes of trouble to me; but I have always found my best consolationthere. During my days of toil and labour I was never absent from the Sunday services; and now that a moderate competency and the advance of years give me grounds for retirement from busy life, the daily services find me a constant and delighted attendant. I find the daily temple worship the best possible preparation for that service which I trust may soon be my occupation in a higher sphere; the best soother of the passions; the surest relief in sorrow. Within those walls I have escaped all those anxieties which spring from religious doubts and differences, and have said the same prayers, and listened to the same doctrines during the lapse of half a century. The daily service flows on, in my ears, like my nativeDuddon—always the same, yet ever fresh and new. I have seen sects rise and fall, and various forms of dissent flourish and decay; but they have no more moved my mind than the fleeting lights and shadows, sunbeams and storms, which pass successively over that venerable fabric,can disturb its foundations, or even shake one pinnacle from its towers. In those free sittings, so well thronged by pious worshippers, what changes have I lived to behold! I have seen the grey head of many a faithful soldier ofChristlaid low, while its place in the ranks has instantly been filled up by one as zealous and almost as grey as that which has been removed. Nay, the shepherds of the flock have been smitten as well as the sheep. I followed to the grave my old friend Mr. Joseph Rivers, to whose blunt kindness, and friendship for my master Robert Walker, I was so deeply indebted; and much was I gratified to see the flood of tears that was shed by the poor over the old man’s grave! It was a proof to me that men know how to value honesty and integrity, even though it be clouded, as it sometimes is, by a hasty manner and a rough outside. And I have followed to the grave one to whom I looked up with a feeling of deeper reverence and gratitude—the pious Christian—the courteous gentleman—the late venerable Head of our Church in this place. He was to me not only a teacher, but, I may almost venture to say, a companion and friend. How often have I hoped and prayed that he might be permitted to out-strip me in length of days as far as he did in his Christian walk! But it was not so ordained! Truly may I say of him, in the words of Scripture, ‘That other disciple did out-run Peter,—and I came first to the sepulchre!’”
The silent tears rolled down the old man’s cheek as he paused for a moment to meditate on the tomb of his pastor.
“My tale,” he soon added, “is now at an end. It is probably, as I said, but of little interest to any one but myself, and you who have so kindly listened to it. Yet I shall not have told it to you in vain, if it lead you to recollect that the poorest man you meet has his little history, could he be induced to tell it; and his deep interest in the Church, could he be led to think so. At all events,” he concluded, with a smile, “you will not, I amsure, now blame me much, should you meet the Old Man once more on the Victoria-bridge, on a Saturday night, and find him setting his watch by—(even should it be a few minutes too slow)—the Old Church Clock.”