It is so difficult a matter to tell the story of a man’s life without
wearying the audience, that we will make a leap over all the
circumstances of Colin’s probation in Scotland, though they were
sufficiently amusing. For, naturally, the presbytery of Glen-Diarmid--in
which district the Holy Loch, Colin’s native parish, is situated--were a
little at a loss what to make of a Fellow of Balliol when he offered
himself for licence. To be sure, they made a long pause over the fact of
his Fellowship, which implied that he was a member of the Church of
England; but the presbytery permitted Colin to be heard in defence, and
he had friends among them, and had sufficient skill with his weapons to
perplex and defeat any rising antagonist. Besides, it was not in the
nature of a country presbytery in this tolerant age to be otherwise than
a little proud of the academical honours which the young neophyte bore.
“If we accept any lout who comes up for licence, and refuse a lad of his
attainments, what do you suppose the world will think of us?” said one
of the more enlightened members of the clerical court, forgetting, as
was natural, that the world concerned itself very little with the doings
of the presbytery of Glen-Diarmid. “It’s safe to leave all that to the
objectors when he comes to be placed,” said another of Colin’s judges,
more wary than his brother; “if he’s not sound, you may trust it to them
to find that out,”--and the young man was accordingly endued with the
preliminary privileges of preacher, and licensed to exercise his gift.
Colin had made friends all along the road of his life, as some men are
happy enough to do, and had many who would have been pleased to do him a
service, and one, as it happened, who at this juncture could; and so it
befell, that, a very short time after, the second and more serious trial
to which the prudent presbyter had referred, came into the life of the
young preacher. He was presented, as people say in Scotland, to the
parish of Afton, in the county, or, as the natives prefer to call it,
the kingdom of Fife. It was a good living enough, making up, when the
harvest was of average productiveness, and wheat steady, rather more
than three hundred pounds a year--and more than that when the harvest
was bad, and the price of com high; and there was an excellent manse,
not much inferior to an English parsonage, and a compact little
comfortable glebe, of which a minister of agricultural tastes might make
something if he chose; and, above all, there were “heritors” of good
conditions, and a university town, of small dimensions, but wealthy in
point of society, within reach--all of which points seemed to Colin’s
English friends a fabulous combination of advantages to be found in a
Scotch parish.
Colin, however, did not fully describe the horrible gulf which lay
between him and his benefice to anybody out of Scotland; for he was not
the man to betray the imperfections of his beloved country, even while
he suffered from them. His historian, however, does not require to
exercise so much delicacy; and, as Colin’s case was exactly the same as
that of any other young clergyman in the Church of Scotland, there is no
betrayal of confidence involved. Between him and that haven there was a
channel to cross before which the boldest might have quailed. The parish
of Alton was a large parish, and there were seven hundred and fifty
people in it who had a right to “object” to Colin. They had a right to
object, if they liked, to his looks, or his manners, or his doctrines,
or the colour of his hair; they had a right to investigate all his life,
and make a complaint at “the bar of the presbytery”--which meant, at the
same time, in all the local newspapers, eager for any kind of
gossip--that he had once been guilty of bird’s-nesting, or had heard the
midnight chimes at some unguarded moment of his youth. When Colin
entered the pulpit for the first time in the parish to which he was
presented, he made his appearance there not to instruct the
congregation, but to be inspected, watched, judged, and finally objected
to--and all the process was vigorously enforced in his case. For, to be
sure, there were several things to be remarked in this young man--or, as
the people of Afton expressed it, “this new laud”--which were out of the
way, and unlike other people. He was a lad that had not found Scotch
education good enough for him, but had gone to England for at least part
of his training. To be sure, he had partly made up for this by taking
the highest honours possible, and coming out of the contest in a manner
creditable to Scotland--which was a point in his favour. And then his
prayers (which was odd, as Colin was decidedly a liturgist) were
wanting in those stock expressions which, more pertinacious than any
liturgy, haunt the public prayers of the ordinary ministers of the
Church of Scotland; and his sermons were short and innocent of
divisions, and of a tenor totally unlike what the respectable
parishioners had been used to hear. Some of the shrewder elders were of
opinion that this or that expression “might mean onything”--a conclusion
in which there was a certain truth; for Colin, as we have said, was not
perfectly clear on all points as to what he believed. If he was not
altogether heterodox on the subject of eternal punishment, for example,
he was, to say the least, extremely vague; and, indeed, he deserted
doctrinal ground altogether as often as he could, and took refuge in
life and its necessities in a way which, doubtless, had its effect on
the uninstructed multitude, but was felt to be meagre and unsatisfactory
by the theologians of the parish. Two or three public meetings were held
on the subject before it was time to lodge the final objections against
the “presentee;” and Colin himself, who was living at St. Rule’s, within
a few miles of the theatre of war, naturally found those meetings, and
the speeches thereat, which appeared in the _Fife Argus_, much less
amusing than an impartial spectator might have done.
And then the same enlightened journal contained all sorts of letters on
the subject--letters in which “An Onlooker” asked whether the Rev. Mr.
Campbell, who was presentee to the parish of Afton, was the same Mr.
Campbell who had passed a spring at Rome three or four years before, and
had been noted for his leaning to the Papacy and its superstitious
observances; while, on the other hand, “A Fife Elder” implored the
parishioners to take notice that the man whom an Erastian patron--not
himself a member of the Church, and perhaps unaware how dearly the
spiritual privileges purchased by the blood of their martyred
forefathers are regarded by Scotsmen--thus endeavoured to force upon
them, was notoriously a disciple of Heward, and belonged to the most
insidious school of modern infidelity. It was the main body of the
opposing army which made such attacks; but there was no lack of
skirmishers, who treated the subject in a lighter manner, and addressed
the obliging editor in a familiar and playful fashion:--“Sir,--Having
nothing better to do last Sunday morning, I strayed into the parish
church of Afton, with the intention of worshipping with the
congregation; but you may judge of my surprise when I observed ascending
the pulpit-stairs a young gentleman presenting all the appearance of a
London swell or a cavalry officer, with a beard upon which it was
evident he had spent more time than on his sermon”--wrote a witty
correspondent; while another indignant Scot demanded solemnly, “Is it to
be tolerated that our very pulpits should be invaded by the scum of the
English Universities, inexperienced lads that make a hash of the
Prayer-book, and preach sermons that may do very well on the other side
of the Tweed, but won’t go down here?”
Such were the pleasant effusions with which Colin’s friend at St. Rule’s
amused his guest at breakfast. They were very amusing to a spectator
safely established in the Elysian fields of a Scotch professorship, and
beyond the reach of objections; but they were not amusing, to speak of,
to Colin; and the effect they produced upon the household at Ramore may
be faintly imagined by the general public, as it will be vividly
realized by such Scotch families as have sons in the Church. The
Mistress had said to herself, with a certain placid thankfulness, “It’s
little they can have to say about my Colin, that has been aye the best
and the kindest.” But when she saw how much could be made of nothing,
the indignation of Colin’s mother did not prevent her from being wounded
to the heart. “I will never mair believe either in justice or charity,”
she said, with a thrill of wrath in her voice which had never before
been heard at Ramore; “him that was aye so true and faithful--him that
has aye served his Master first, and made no account of this world!”
And, indeed, though his mother’s estimation of him might be a little too
favourable, it is certain that few men more entirely devoted to their
work than Colin had ever taken upon them the cure of souls. That,
however, was a matter beyond the ken of the congregation and parish of
Afton. There were seven hundred and fifty communicants, and they had
been well trained in doctrine under their late minister, and had a high
character for intelligence; and, when an opportunity thus happily
arrived for distinguishing themselves, it was not in human nature to
neglect it. Had not West Port worried to the point of extinction three
unhappy men whom the Crown itself had successively elevated to the
unenviable distinction of presentee? The Afton case now occupied the
newspapers as the West Port case had once occupied them. It combined all
the attractions of a theological controversy and a personal
investigation; and, indeed, there could have been few better points of
view for observing the humours of Scotch character and the peculiarities
of rural Scotch society of the humbler levels; only that, as we have
before said, the process was not so amusing as it might have been to
Colin and his friends.
“Me ken, Mr. Heward?” said the leading weaver of Afton; “no, I ken
nothing about him. I’m no prepared to say what he believes. For that
matter (but this was drawn out by cross-examination), I’m no just
prepared to say at a moment’s notice what I believe myself. I believe in
the Confession of Faith and the Shorter Catechism. No, I cannot just say
that I’ve ever read the Confession of Faith--but eh, man, you ken little
about parish schools if you think I dinna ken the Catechism. Can I say
‘What is Effectual Calling?’ I would like to know what right you have to
ask me. I’ll say it at a proper time, to them that have a title to ask.
I’m here to put in my objections against the presentee. I’m no here to
say my questions. If I was, may be I would ken them better than you.”
“Very well; but I want to understand what you know about Mr. Heward,”
said the counsel for the defence.
“I’ve said already I ken naething about Mr. Heward. Lord bless me! it’s
no a man, it’s a principle we’re thinking of. No, I deny that; it’s no
an oath. ‘Lord bless me!’ is a prayer, if you will be at the bottom o’t.
We’ve a’ muckle need to say that. I say the presentee is of the Heward
school of infidelity; that’s the objection I’m here to support.”
“But, my friend,” said a member of the presbytery, “it is necessary that
you should be more precise. It is necessary to say, you know, that Mr.
Heward rejects revelation; that he----”
“Moderator, I call my reverend brother to order,” said another minister;
“the witness is here to give evidence about Mr. Campbell. No doubt he is
prepared to show us how the presentee has proved himself to belong to
the Heward school.”
“Oh ay,” said the witness; “there’s plenty evidence of that. I took
notes mysel’ of a’ the sermons. Here’s one of them. It’s maybe a wee in
my ain words, but there’s nae change in the sense,--‘My freends, it’s
aye best to look after your ain business: it’s awfu’ easy to condemn
others. We’re all the children of the Heavenly Father. I have seen
devotion among a wheen poor uninstructed Papists that would put the best
of you to shame’--No, that’s no what I was looking for; that’s the
latitudinarian bit.”
“I think it has been said, among other things,” said another member of
the presbytery, “that Mr. Campbell had a leaning towards papal error; it
appears to me that the witness’s note is almost a proof of that.”
“Moderator,” said Colin’s counsel, “I beg to call your attention to the
fact that we are not discussing the presentee’s leaning towards papal
error, but his adherence to the Heward school of infidelity, whatever
that may be. If the witness will inform us, or if any of the members of
the court will inform us, what Mr. Heward believes, we will then be able
to make some reply to this part of the case.”
“I dinna ken naething about Mr. Heward,” said the cautious witness. “I’m
no prepared to enter into ony personal question. It’s no the man but the
principle that we’re heeding, the rest of the objectors and me.”
“The witness is perfectly right,” said a conscientious presbyter; “if we
were tempted to enter into personal questions there would be no end to
the process. My friend, the thing for you to do in this delicate matter
is to lead proof. No doubt the presentee has made some statement which
has led you to identify him with Mr. Heward. He has expressed some
doubts, for example, about the origin of Christianity or the truth of
revelation--”
“Order, order,” cried the enlightened member; “I protest against such
leading questions. Indeed, it appears to me, Moderator, that it is
impossible to proceed with this part of the case unless it has been made
clearly apparent to the court what Mr. Heward believes.”
Upon which there naturally ensued a lively discussion in the presbytery,
in which the witness was with difficulty prevented from joining. The
subject was without doubt sufficiently unfathomable to keep half-a-dozen
presbyteries occupied; but there were at that period in the kingdom of
Fife, men of sufficient temerity to pronounce authoritatively even upon
a matter so mysterious and indefinite. The court, however, adjourned
that day without coming to any decision; and even the Edinburgh papers
published a report of the Afton case, which involved so many important
interests; although so far as concerned the great Heward heresy, the
objections could not be held to be proved.
Colin was saved on the other counts of his indictment also, as it
happened, but more by accident than by any effect which he produced on
his reluctant parishioners. By dint of repeated examinations on the
model of that which we have quoted above, the presbytery came to the
decision that the presentee’s leaning to papal error was, like his
adherence to the Heward school of theology, not proven; and they
even--for presbyteries also march to a certain extent with the
age--declined to consider the milder accusation brought against him, of
favouring the errors of a less fatal heretic. By this time, it is true,
Colin was on the point of abandoning for ever the Church to which at a
distance he had been willing to give up all his ambitions, and the
Mistress was wound up to such a pitch of indignant excitement as to
threaten a serious illness, and Lauderdale had publicly demonstrated his
wrath by attending “the English chapel,” as he said, “two Sundays
running.” As for Colin, in the quiet of St. Rule’s, feeling like a
culprit on his trial, and relishing not at all the notion of being taken
to pieces by the papers, even though they were merely papers of Fife, he
had begun to regard with some relief the idea of going back to Balliol
and reposing on his Fellowship, and even taking pupils, if nothing
better came in his way. If he could have gone into Parliament, as Matty
Frankland suggested, the indignant young man would have seized violently
on that means of exposing to the House and the world the miseries of a
Scotch presentee and the horrors of Lord Aberdeen’s Act. But,
fortunately, he had no means of getting into Parliament, and a certain
sense at the bottom of his heart, that this priesthood which had to be
entered by a channel so painful and humiliating was in reality his true
vocation, retained him as by a silken thread. If he had been less
convinced on this point, no doubt he would have abandoned the mortifying
struggle, and the parish of Afton, having whetted its appetite upon him,
would have gone freshly to work upon another unhappy young preacher, and
crunched his bones with equal satisfaction; and, what is still more
important to us, this history would have broken off abruptly short of
its fit and necessary period. None of those misfortunes happened,
because Colin had at heart a determination to make himself heard, and
enter upon his natural vocation, and because, in the second place, he
was independent, and did not at the present moment concern himself in
the smallest degree about the stipend of the parish, whether corn was at
five pounds the chaldron or five shillings. To be sure, it is contrary
to the ordinary habit of biography to represent a young clergyman as
entering a parish against the will or with the dislike of the
inhabitants; as a general rule it is at worst, an interested curiosity,
if not a lively enthusiasm, which the young parish priests of literature
find in their village churches; but then it is not England or Arcadia of
which we are writing, nor of an ideal curate or spotless primitive
vicar, but only of Colin Campbell and the parish of Afton, in the
kingdom of Fife, in the country of Scotland, under the beneficent
operation of Lord Aberdeen’s Act.
However, at last the undignified combat terminated. After the objections
were all disposed of, the seven hundred and fifty communicants received
their minister, it is to be hoped, with the respect due to a victor.
Perhaps it was a touch of disdain on Colin’s part--proving how faulty
the young man remained, notwithstanding, as the Mistress said, “all he
had come through”--that prompted him to ascend the pulpit, after the
struggle was over, with his scarlet hood glaring on his black gown to
the consternation of his parishioners. It cannot be denied that this
little movement of despite was an action somewhat unworthy of Colin at
such a moment and in such a place; but then he was young, and it is
difficult for a young man to do under all circumstances exactly what he
ought. When he had got there and opened his mouth, Colin forgot all
about his scarlet hood--he forgot they had all objected to him and put
him in the papers. He saw only before him a certain corner of the world
in which he had to perform the highest office that is confided to man.
He preached without thinking he was preaching, forgetting all about
doctrines, and only remembering the wonderful bewildering life in which
every soul before him had its share, the human mysteries and agonies,
the heaven, so vague and distant, the need so urgent and so near. In
sight of these, which had nothing to do with Lord Aberdeen’s Act, Colin
forgot that he had been put innocently on his trial, and taken to
pieces; and, what was still more strange, when two or three harmless
weeks had passed, the seven hundred and fifty communicants had clean
forgotten it too.