Mr. Tryan showed no such symptoms of weakness on the critical Sunday. He
unhesitatingly rejected the suggestion that he should be taken to church
in Mr. Landor’s carriage--a proposition which that gentleman made as an
amendment on the original plan, when the rumours of meditated insult
became alarming. Mr. Tryan declared he would have no precautions taken,
but would simply trust in God and his good cause. Some of his more timid
friends thought this conduct rather defiant than wise, and reflecting
that a mob has great talents for impromptu, and that legal redress is
imperfect satisfaction for having one’s head broken with a brickbat, were
beginning to question their consciences very closely as to whether it was
not a duty they owed to their families to stay at home on Sunday evening.
These timorous persons, however, were in a small minority, and the
generality of Mr. Tryan’s friends and hearers rather exulted in an
opportunity of braving insult for the sake of a preacher to whom they
were attached on personal as well as doctrinal grounds. Miss Pratt spoke
of Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer, and observed that the present crisis
afforded an occasion for emulating their heroism even in these degenerate
times; while less highly instructed persons, whose memories were not well
stored with precedents, simply expressed their determination, as Mr.
Jerome had done, to ‘stan’ by’ the preacher and his cause, believing it
to be the ‘cause of God’.
On Sunday evening, then, at a quarter past six, Mr. Tryan, setting out
from Mr. Landor’s with a party of his friends who had assembled there,
was soon joined by two other groups from Mr. Pratt’s and Mr. Dunn’s; and
stray persons on their way to church naturally falling into rank behind
this leading file, by the time they reached the entrance of Orchard
Street, Mr. Tryan’s friends formed a considerable procession, walking
three or four abreast. It was in Orchard Street, and towards the church
gates, that the chief crowd was collected; and at Mr. Dempster’s
drawing-room window, on the upper floor, a more select assembly of
Anti-Tryanites were gathered to witness the entertaining spectacle of the
Tryanites walking to church amidst the jeers and hootings of the crowd.
To prompt the popular wit with appropriate sobriquets, numerous copies of
Mr. Dempster’s play-bill were posted on the walls, in suitably large and
emphatic type. As it is possible that the most industrious collector of
mural literature may not have been fortunate enough to possess himself of
this production, which ought by all means to be preserved amongst the
materials of our provincial religious history, I subjoin a faithful copy.
GRAND ENTERTAINMENT!!!
To be given at Milby on Sunday evening next, by the
FAMOUS COMEDIAN, TRY-IT-ON!
And his first-rate company, including not only an
UNPARALLELED CAST FOR COMEDY!
But a Large Collection of _reclaimed and converted Animals_:
Among the rest
A Bear, who used to _dance!_
A Parrot, once given to swearing!!
_A Polygamous Pig!!!_
and
A Monkey who used to _catch fleas on a Sunday!!!!_
Together with a
Pair of _regenerated_ LINNETS!
With an entirely new song, and _plumage_.
MR. TRY-IT-ON
Will first pass through the streets, in procession, with his
unrivalled Company warranted to have their _eyes turned up higher_,
and the _corners of their mouths turned down lower_, than any other
company of Mountebanks in this circuit!
AFTER WHICH
The Theatre will be opened, and the entertainment will
commence at HALF-PAST SIX
When will be presented
A piece, never before performed on any stage, entitled
THE WOLF IN SHEEPS CLOTHING;
_or_
THE METHODIST IN A MASK
Mr. Boanerges Soft Sawder, . . . . MR. TRY-IT-ON.
Old Ten-per-cent Godly, . . . . . MR. GANDER.
Dr. Feedemup, . . . . . . . . MR. TONIC.
Mr. Lime-Twig Lady-winner, . . . . MR. TRY-IT-ON.
Miss Piety Bait-the-hook, . . . . MISS TONIC.
Angelica, . . . . . . . . . MISS SERAPHINA TONIC.
After which
A miscellaneous Musical Interlude, commencing with
The _Lamentations of Jerom-iah!_
In nasal recitative.
To be followed by
The favourite Cackling Quartette,
by Two Hen-birds who are _no chickens!_
The well-known counter-tenor, Mr. Done, and a _Gander_,
lineally descended from the Goose that laid golden eggs!
To conclude with a
GRAND CHORUS by the
Entire Orchestra of Converted Animals!!
But owing to the unavoidable absence (from illness) of the _Bulldog,
who has left off fighting_, Mr. Tonic has kindly undertaken, at a
moment’s notice, to supply the ‘_bark!_’
The whole to conclude with a
_Screaming Farce of_
THE PULPIT SNATCHER
Mr. Saintly Smooth-face, . . . . MR. TRY-IT-ON!
Mr. Worming Sneaker, . . . . . MR. TRY-IT-ON!!
Mr. All-grace No-works, . . . . MR. TRY-IT-ON!!!
Mr. Elect-and-Chosen Apewell, . . MR. TRY-IT-ON!!!!
Mr. Malevolent Prayerful, . . . . MR. TRY-IT-ON!!!!!
Mr. Foist-himself Everywhere, . . MR. TRY-IT-ON!!!!!!
Mr. Flout-the-aged Upstart, . . . MR. TRY-IT-ON!!!!!!!
Admission Free. _A Collection_ will be made at the Doors.
_Vivat Rex!_
This satire, though it presents the keenest edge of Milby wit, does not
strike you as lacerating, I imagine. But hatred is like fire--it makes
even light rubbish deadly. And Mr. Dempster’s sarcasms were not merely
visible on the walls; they were reflected in the derisive glances, and
audible in the jeering voices of the crowd. Through this pelting shower
of nicknames and bad puns, with an _ad libitum_ accompaniment of groans,
howls, hisses, and hee-haws, but of no heavier missiles, Mr. Tryan walked
pale and composed, giving his arm to old Mr. Landor, whose step was
feeble. On the other side of him was Mr. Jerome, who still walked firmly,
though his shoulders were slightly bowed.
Outwardly Mr. Tryan was composed, but inwardly he was suffering acutely
from these tones of hatred and scorn. However strong his consciousness of
right, he found it no stronger armour against such weapons as derisive
glances and virulent words, than against stones and clubs: his conscience
was in repose, but his sensibility was bruised.
Once more only did the Evangelical curate pass up Orchard Street followed
by a train of friends; once more only was there a crowd assembled to
witness his entrance through the church gates. But that second time no
voice was heard above a whisper, and the whispers were words of sorrow
and blessing. That second time, Janet Dempster was not looking on in
scorn and merriment; her eyes were worn with grief and watching, and she
was following her beloved friend and pastor to the grave.