For some time all had not been well among the Saints. There was
evidence of worldliness, backsliding, apostasy and sin. The Devil was
active in our midst.
Certain Saints, after tasting for years the privilege of fellowship,
had left us: for chapel, or church, or nowhere. Others were becoming
irregular in their attendance or took part in our devotions without
fervour. There was moral backsliding too: chambering and wantonness.
Blind Joe Packe had been discovered by Brother Quappleworthy in a
drunken stupor on the floor of the attic in which he lived, when the
latter was paying him one of his customary visits of Bible-reading and
exhortation. There walked abroad also a vaguer, darker sin than drink
that I did not clearly apprehend, of which certain of the younger
Brothers who were "keeping company" with certain of the younger Sisters
were whispered to be guilty. The most flagrant example, I gathered
from a shrouded conversation between Grandmother and Aunt Jael, was
Sister Lucy Fry, who had a baby, but no husband. I thought this a
curiosity rather than a crime. For whatever reason, it aroused a sharp
difference of opinion; Aunt Jael denounced the awfulness of Lucy's sin,
Grandmother urged that she was more sinned against than sinning.
Then Sister Prideaux had been to some concert or "theatre" during a
holiday at Exeter. The precise nature of the godless entertainment was
not ascertained. Nor was it clear how the news had reached us, though
most thought it was wormed out of Sister Quappleworthy by Sister Yeo.
The latter openly taxed Miss Prideaux with it.
"So you went to the theayter did you, over to Exeter? Next time you're
there I suppose you'll be a-going to the _Cathedril_!"
Then there were the parliamentary elections in which some of the Saints
had been taking an unsaintly interest, voting for and championing this
candidate or that; a form of meddling with this world's affairs which
Pentecost regarded with special disfavour. Indeed Rumour had it that
one or two of the younger Brethren took part in the famous polling-day
brawl in the vegetable market. Several of even the most prominent
Saints expressed preferences. Brother Browning being a draper was
Radical, Brother Quappleworthy being an intellectual was Whig, Brother
Briggs being an oilman was Tory.
Aunt Jael was an unbenevolent neutral. "They're all much of a muchness
and none of 'em any good to folk, neither in the next world nor in this
either. In our family, _if_ we had been anything at all, we'd always
have been Whig--except the child's mother. She was Tory, or liked to
think she was. All the gentlefolk belonged to the Tories, and that was
always enough for Rachel."
I was henceforward a fanatical Tory, though I had not the dimmest
notion what it meant, except that it was somehow connected with London
and the Parliament. Aunt Jael refused to explain; Grandmother said it
was not worth explaining.
Brother Brawn related how on the occasion of a visit from some
canvassers he had struck a blow for righteousness. "They knocked at my
front door," he told Aunt Jael, "folk as I'd never spoken to avore, nor
so much as seen; 'Good mornin' sir,' said one of them, a tall, thin man
with spectacles he was, 'whose side are you on? Davie and Potts[2] I
trust.' 'No,' I said, 'I'm on the side of the Laur Jesus Christ,' and I
slammed the door in their faces. 'Twas a word in season."
About this time there was an epidemic of minor illnesses, which
Grandmother said could only be the hand of the Lord extended in
chastisement for sins which the suffering ones had committed. More
modern folk would have sought explanation in low vitality, indoor
habits or bad drainage, but point was given to my Grandmother's
contention by the fact that Sister Prideaux and Lucy Fry, prominent
among the sinners, were about this time laid low with illness--the
latter not unnaturally. Her own attack of bronchitis, she attributed to
the selfish indulgence she had shown of late in perpetually studying
her own favourite portions of the Word and neglecting (comparatively)
those she favoured less.
Worst of all, that piece of sugar which for nineteen years--the period
is always the same in my memory--had been placed in our offertory as an
insult to the Lord had now for two Sundays past become _four_ pieces,
one in each of the four partitions, a little bit of sugar for Expenses,
a little bit of sugar for Foreign Field, a little bit of sugar for
Ministry, a little bit of sugar for Poor. It had been serious enough
years ago when the box with the narrow slits had been substituted for
the bag, and the sinner had merely retaliated by putting a small piece
through one of the slits instead of a large lump down the gaping abyss
of the bag. But now--four pieces, one in each partition,--what deftness
in utter sin! What zeal in ill-doing! Who was this wolf in sheep's
clothing, this sinner who could sit at the Lord's table for nineteen
years and harden his heart Lord's day after Lord's day by offering
this mockery of an oblation to his Saviour? Who was this evil spirit
slim-fingered enough to perform this fourfold naughtiness, and yet
remain undetected, unguessed? We all peered at our neighbours. Brother
Brawn even began following the box in its voyage round the Meeting,
instead of merely handing it to the first giver and taking it from the
last; for all his spying he could find nothing. Was _he_ the man?
Thus in devious ways was the Devil active in our midst. He must be
exorcised.
Sister Yeo's idea of a Special Extraordinary Meeting to chase him out
was finally adopted. All the Saints should assemble on a week night to
pray for help, and for the discovery, confession and true repentance of
all the various sinners; to purge the repentant of their sins and to
praise the Lord for pardoning them; to purge the Meeting itself of the
stubborn and unrepentant--to cast them into the outer darkness. There
should be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
A preliminary meeting to decide on procedure and agenda was held in our
dining-room. The committee which assembled was chosen by Aunt Jael and
consisted of herself, Grandmother, Pentecost, Brothers Quappleworthy
(despite theatre-going sister-in-law and known electioneering lapses),
Brawn and Browning. Also, at Pentecost's special plea--"'Twill be a
sacrifice of self, I know, dear Sister Vickary; that is why I urge
it"--Sister Yeo was admitted. As soon as all the committee had arrived
I was bundled out of the room, so I knew nothing of what was to happen
except what I gathered from ear-straining on the staircase, and chance
conversation between Grandmother and Aunt Jael afterwards. I gathered
this much: that the Extraordinary Meeting was to be preceded by a Tea.
To this same Tea on a memorable Saturday afternoon we proceeded;
Grandmother, Aunt Jael, Mrs. Cheese and I. It is the only single
occasion in my memory when the Saints met together for public eating.
In nothing did we differ more from the general body of nonconformists
with their socials, bun-fights, feastings, reunions, conversazioni and
congregational guzzles.
The Room presented an unusual sight. There were four long trestle
tables covered with white cloths and laden with food, with forms drawn
up beside them. The Saints, dressed in their Sunday best, were standing
about in groups when we arrived. Aunt Jael, puffed with the energies of
her walk, sat down at once on the end of a bench. Her weight sent the
other end soaring gaily into the air while she landed on the floor with
a most notable thud. The form banged back, not into position, but with
a swirling movement on to a plate of bread and butter.
There is proof of the awful respect in which Aunt Jael was held in
this: that not a soul dared to smile as she sat there on her broad
posterior. For a moment or two no one even dared to help her to her
feet, fearing an outburst, for people like Aunt Jael are most dangerous
when you try to help them out of a predicament. Then by a sudden
gregarious instinct every one ran forward together in a sheep-like
mass, and bore Aunt Jael--red, antagonistic and threatening--to her
feet.
After a blessing had been asked by Pentecost, we sat down to tea. I
recall ham, bath-buns and potted-meat sandwiches. After tea the tables
were cleared, the trestles packed away and the crockery and cutlery,
all of which had been lent, were put back uncleansed in clothes-baskets
in which they had been brought by the owners; for the Room possessed no
washing-up facilities. The forms were then rearranged as for Breaking
of Bread. Pentecost sat in his accustomed place at the right of the
Table as you faced it; we in our usual front row; Brother Briggs to the
right, Brother Quick to the left, Brother Marks, the old Personal Devil
of my imagination, far away in his goggled corner. In the pulpit or
dais, which was only used for the evening gospel meeting, were ranged
Brother Quappleworthy--in the centre, in charge of proceedings--Brother
Brawn on the right and Brother Browning on the left. Precedence and
position had been arranged at the committee meeting in our dining-room,
when Brother Quappleworthy had been chosen as chairman. The whole
staging was as for a meeting in the secular meaning of the word. Indeed
I remember feeling that the whole affair was a sort of excitement or
entertainment rather than a religious service. This feeling vanished
like dew with the dawn when Pentecost stood up and in a short prayer of
exceeding solemnity craved the Lord's blessing on our proceedings. The
keynote was SIN, its detection, confession, atonement; "and Sin, Lord,
is a terrible thing."
Brother Quappleworthy rose to deal with the business before the
house. "First now, brethren, there's the question of those Saints
who have absented themselves from our--ah--mutual ministrations,
those backsliders who have left the Lord's table for other
so-called Christian bodies or the walks of open indifference
and--er--infidelity." Brawn and Browning murmured agreement.
Sister Yeo's voice rang out accusing and metallic: "You're a fine one,
Brother Browning, to um-um-er, and to sit in judgment on others. First
cast out the beam from thine own eye! What of your own wedded wife who
goes openly to the Bible Christian chapel, and 'as done these fifteen
years; a source of stumbling and error to all the weaker brethren."
(Sensation.)
"Silence, Sister," cried Brother Quappleworthy, "none may speak here to
accuse others, only to accuse self."
"True," murmured the Meeting, and the Chairman resumed his discourse.
"A list has been--ah--prayerfully prepared of all the Saints who have
withheld themselves from fellowship for a space of time. Do all our
Brothers and Sisters agree that they be struck off our roll of grace?
Shall we say 'Ay' as we call each name? Brother Mogridge."
"Ay," arose murmurously.
"Sister Mogridge."
"Ay."
"Sister Polly Mogridge."
"Ay."
"Brother Richardson."
"Ay."
"Sister Petter."
This time our tongues (I say "our" because I had joined unctuously
in the Ay's) stopped short just in time as we remembered that Sister
Petter was present. We all turned towards her. Her hand was over her
eyes, and she was weeping.
"Sister Petter," called Brother Quappleworthy in a solemn voice. "You
who scoffed to unbelievers of the ministrations of the Saints, _You_, I
say!..."
"Lord forgive me," she moaned. "Oh Lord forgive me."
Pentecost arose with beaming face. "There's joy in the presence of the
angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." He went over to her and
put his hand on her shoulder saying, "Sister, be of good cheer, the
Lord hath forgiven thy sin."
"Amen," said we all.
Drink and theatre-going and elections and illnesses were all dealt with
then in their turn; I remember them hazily. When the denouncing voice
uttered the name Lucy Fry, I woke up into the most wide-awake interest,
for a _visible_ hush descended on the Meeting.
Brother Quappleworthy had lost his usual urbanity: "Sin of sins,
abomination of abominations." His face was hard and fanatical.
My eyes kept straying to the place where Lucy sat. She was a young
fresh-faced country girl. Tonight her rosy cheeks were pale, her eyes
drawn and she sobbed quietly but continually as her shame was exposed
before us.
"Sister, repentest thou? Stand up, I say! Repent!"
It was too much. The poor girl fainted. They bore her out insensible.
"Her first time out of doors," I heard it whispered, "since the child
was born."
A feeling of pity was evident among the Saints. Brother Quappleworthy
realized this and was determined to crush it. "Remember, brethren, it
is a sin too grave, too vile for God to wink at. No dallying with sin!
I put it to you that Sister Fry be excluded from fellowship. A fleshly
sinner must not pollute the Lord's table."
"Chase her out, Lord," cried Brother Brawn, "this adulterous woman!"
"No," said Brother Browning, nervously, bravely. "She repents; the Lord
will be for mercy." The three Brothers fell to disputing on the dais,
and the discussion spread to the whole body of the Saints till there
was a veritable hubbub in the Room. Brother Quappleworthy quelled it by
calling out in a loud voice: "The Lord will show His will by means of a
vote. Now those brethren who think it right that Sister Lucy Fry, the
self-confessed sinner, be excluded from the Lord's table put up their
hands."
Thirty-six hands were counted.
"Now those brethren who think that she, the sinning woman, should
remain in fellowship."
Twenty hands only were shown. Thus by sixteen votes the Lord, who is
merciful, voted against poor Lucy.
Then a surprising thing happened. My Grandmother, for the only time in
my experience, stood up: "I have one question, brethren. Who is the
man?"
No one had thought of that. No one does.
There was a whispering. It was confirmed that Lucy's guilty
partner--whatever that might mean--was not a Saint and that nothing
could therefore be done.
Brother Quappleworthy with sure dramatic instinct had reserved till the
last the super-sin: Sugar. "This work of Satan persevered in over so
long a period in a human heart ... For nineteen years ..." and so on.
He wound up by conjuring the sinner to confess, to repent ere it was
too late.
There was no response to his appeal, and a flat and rather foolish
silence ensued. Then Pentecost Dodderidge prayed lengthily and
earnestly that the sinner might be moved to reveal himself. Then
another long fruitless silence.
Pentecost arose again, solemn and determined: "Brethren, we must slay
the Evil One working in one poor sinner's heart, now, this evening--now
or never. No one shall leave this room until the guilty one has
confessed, not if we stay here for forty days and forty nights. Let us
pray silently that he may be moved."
A new silence followed, but this time I was somehow expectant. The
minutes, however, dragged on, five, ten, fifteen; I watched the
crawling clock. Surely it could not last for ever, surely the patience
of the sinner must be worn out by our unending vigil.
There was a noise of some one moving. Every one opened their eyes and
looked up. It was only Pentecost Dodderidge on his feet again. "The
Lord hath made it plain to me. He saith 'I will send a sign and then
the sinner will confess.'" Hardly had he sat down than there was a
great pelting of hail on the roof which continued for two or three
minutes. With the noise no one heard Brother Marks, my spectacled
Personal Devil, until he stood in front of the Lord's Table facing us
all with a countenance of ghost-like white.
What followed I could never have believed had I not seen it with my own
eyes. He took a dark blue paper package from one pocket and emptied it
on one side of the Lord's Table; a shower of sugar came forth: little
white lumps, the sort with which he had fooled us--preserving sugar the
grocers call it, the sort with which jam is made. Then he took out from
his other pocket a little cloth bag and poured out into a separate heap
on the other side of the Lord's Table a shining heap of golden coins.
Then he knelt down in front of us all and sobbed and groaned and rocked
himself to and fro in an extreme agony that was terrible to see.
No one knew what to do, no one except Pentecost, who went up to him and
lifted him to his feet; "Jesus forgives thee," he said, "let all of us
praise His Holy Name."
The whole Meeting sprang to its feet, and burst forth into a hymn of
praise. A solemn fast was declared for seven days, and we sang the
Good-night Hymn:
Good night, dear saints, adieu! adieu!
Still in God's way delight;
May grace and truth abide with you--
Good night, dear saints, good night.
When we ascend to realms above,
And view the glorious sight,
We'll sing of His redeeming love,
And never say Good night.
Good night, dear saints, adieu! adieu!
Still in God's way delight;
May grace and truth abide with you--
Good night, dear saints, good night.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] Colonel Ferguson-Davie of Crediton and Mr. George Potts of
Trafalgar Lawn, Tawborough, the two candidates successfully returned
for the Borough at the Election of 1859.