“And fools who came to scoff, remained to pray.”
--Goldsmith.
Notwithstanding the united labors of Richard and Benjamin, the “long
room” was but an extremely inartificial temple. Benches; made in the
coarsest manner, and entirely with a view to usefulness, were arranged
in rows for the reception of the Congregation; while a rough, unpainted
box was placed against the wall, in the centre of the length of the
apartment, as an apology for a pulpit. Something like a reading-desk
was in front of this rostrum; and a small mahogany table from the
mansion-house, covered with a spotless damask cloth, stood a little on
one side, by the way of an altar. Branches of pines and hemlocks were
stuck in each of the fissures that offered in the unseasoned and
hastily completed woodwork of both the building and its furniture; while
festoons and hieroglyphics met the eye in vast profusion along the brown
sides of the scratch-coated walls. As the room was only lighted by some
ten or fifteen miserable candles, and the windows were without shutters,
it would have been but a dreary, cheerless place for the solemnities of
a Christmas eve, had not the large fire that was crackling at each end
of the apartment given an air of cheerfulness to the scene, by throwing
an occasional glare of light through the vistas of bushes and faces.
The two sexes were separated by an area in the centre of the room
immediately before the pulpit; amid a few benches lined this space,
that were occupied by the principal personages of the village and its
vicinity. This distinction was rather a gratuitous concession made by
the poorer and less polished part of the population than a right claimed
by the favored few. One bench was occupied by the party of Judge Temple,
including his daughter, and, with the exception of Dr. Todd, no one else
appeared willing to incur the imputation of pride, by taking a seat in
what was, literally, the high place of the tabernacle.
Richard filled the chair that was placed behind another table, in the
capacity of clerk; while Benjamin, after heaping sundry logs on the
fire, posted himself nigh by, in reserve for any movement that might
require co-operation.
It would greatly exceed our limits to attempt a description of the
congregation, for the dresses were as various as the individuals. Some
one article of more than usual finery, and perhaps the relic of other
days, was to be seen about most of the females, in connection with
the coarse attire of the woods. This wore a faded silk, that had
gone through at least three generations, over coarse, woollen black
stockings; that, a shawl, whose dyes were as numerous as those of the
rainbow, over an awkwardly fitting gown of rough brown “woman's wear.”
In short, each one exhibited some favorite article, and all appeared
in their best, both men and women; while the ground-works in dress,
in either sex, were the coarse fabrics manufactured within their own
dwellings. One man appeared in the dress of a volunteer company of
artillery, of which he had been a member in the “down countries,”
precisely for no other reason than because it was the best suit he had.
Several, particularly of the younger men, displayed pantaloons of
blue, edged with red cloth down the seams part of the equipments of the
“Templeton Light Infantry,” from a little vanity to be seen in “boughten
clothes.” There was also one man in a “rifle frock,” with its fringes
and folds of spotless white, striking a chill to the heart with the idea
of its coolness, although the thick coat of brown “home-made” that was
concealed beneath preserved a proper degree of warmth.
There was a marked uniformity of expression in Countenance, especially
in that half of the congregation who did not enjoy the advantages of
the polish of the village. A sallow skin, that indicated nothing
but exposure, was common to all, as was an air of great decency and
attention, mingled, generally, with an expression of shrewdness, and in
the present instance of active curiosity. Now and then a face and dress
were to be seen among the congregation, that differed entirely from this
description. If pock-marked and florid, with gartered legs, and a coat
that snugly fitted the person of the wearer, it was surely an English
emigrant, who had bent his steps to this retired quarter of the globe.
If hard-featured and without color, with high cheek-bones, it was a
native of Scotland, in similar circumstances.
The short, black-eyed man, with a cast of the swarthy Spaniard in his
face, who rose repeatedly to make room for the belles of the village as
they entered, was a son of Erin, who had lately left off his pack, and
become a stationary trader in Templeton. In short, half the nations in
the north of Europe had their representatives in this assembly, though
all had closely assimilated themselves to the Americans in dress and
appearance, except the English man. He, indeed, not only adhered to his
native customs in attire and living, but usually drove his plough among
the stumps in the same manner as he had before done on the plains of
Norfolk, until dear-bought experience taught him the useful lesson that
a sagacious people knew what was suited to their circumstances better
than a casual observer, or a sojourner who was, perhaps, too much
prejudiced to compare and, peradventure, too conceited to learn.
Elizabeth soon discovered that she divided the attention of the
congregation with Mr. Grant. Timidity, therefore, confined her
observation of the appearances which we have described to stoles
glances; but, as the stamping of feet was now becoming less frequent,
and even the coughing, and other little preliminaries of a congregation
settling themselves down into reverential attention, were ceasing, she
felt emboldened to look around her. Gradually all noises diminished,
until the suppressed cough denoted that it was necessary to avoid
singularity, and the most profound stillness pervaded the apartment.
The snapping of the fires, as they threw a powerful heat into the room,
was alone heard, and each face and every eye were turned on the divine.
At this moment, a heavy stamping of feet was heard in the passage
below, as if a new-comer was releasing his limbs from the snow that was
necessarily clinging to the legs of a pedestrian. It was succeeded by
no audible tread; but directly Mohegan, followed by the Leather-Stocking
and the young hunter, made his appearance.
Their footsteps would not have been heard, as they trod the apartment in
their moccasins, but for the silence which prevailed.
The Indian moved with great gravity across the floor, and, observing a
vacant seat next to the Judge, he took it, in a manner that manifested
his sense of his own dignity. Here, drawing his blanket closely around
him so as partly to conceal his countenance, he remained during the
service immovable, but deeply attentive. Natty passed the place that was
so freely taken by his red companion, and seated himself on one end of
a log that was lying near the fire, where he continued, with his rifle
standing between his legs, absorbed in reflections seemingly of no very
pleasing nature. The youth found a seat among the congregation, and
another silence prevailed.
Mr. Grant now arose and commenced his service with the sublime
declaration of the Hebrew prophet: “The Lord is in His holy temple; let
all the earth keep silence before Him.” The example of Mr. Jones was
unnecessary to teach the congregation to rise; the solemnity of the
divine effected this as by magic. After a short pause, Mr. Grant
proceeded with the solemn and winning exhortation of his service.
Nothing was heard but the deep though affectionate tones of the reader,
as he went slowly through this exordium; until, something unfortunately
striking the mind of Richard as incomplete, he left his place and walked
on tiptoe from the room.
When the clergyman bent his knees in prayer and confession, the
congregation so far imitated his example as to resume their seats;
whence no succeeding effort of the divine, during the evening, was able
to remove them in a body. Some rose at times; but by far the larger
part continued unbending; observant, it is true, but it was the kind
of observation that regarded the ceremony as a spectacle rather than a
worship in which they were to participate. Thus deserted by his clerk
Mr. Grant continued to read; but no response was audible. The short
and solemn pause that succeeded each petition was made; still no voice
repeated the eloquent language of the prayer.
The lips of Elizabeth moved, but they moved in vain and accustomed
as she was to the service of the churches of the metropolis, she was
beginning to feel the awkwardness of the circumstance most painfully
when a soft, low female voice repeated after the priest, “We have left
undone those things which we ought to have done.” Startled at finding
one of her own sex in that place who could rise superior to natural
timidity, Miss Temple turned her eyes in the direction of the penitent.
She observed a young female on her knees, but a short distance from her,
with her meek face humbly bent over her book.
The appearance of this stranger, for such she was, entirely, to
Elizabeth, was light and fragile. Her dress was neat and becoming;
and her countenance, though pale and slightly agitated, excited deep
interest by its sweet and melancholy expression. A second and third
response was made by this juvenile assistant, when the manly sounds of
a male voice proceeded from the opposite part of the room, Miss Temple
knew the tones of the young hunter instantly, and struggling to overcome
her own diffidence she added her low voice to the number.
All this time Benjamin stood thumbing the leaves of a prayer-book with
great industry; but some unexpected difficulties prevented his finding
the place. Before the divine reached the close of the confession,
however, Richard reappeared at the door, and, as he moved lightly across
the room, he took up the response, in a voice that betrayed no other
concern than that of not being heard. In his hand he carried a small
open box, with the figures “8 by 10” written in black paint on one of
its sides; which, having placed in the pulpit, apparently as a footstool
for the divine, he returned to his station in time to say, sonorously,
“Amen.” The eyes of the congregation, very naturally, were turned to the
windows, as Mr. Jones entered with his singular load; and then, as if
accustomed to his “general agency,” were again bent on the priest, in
close and curious attention.
The long experience of Mr. Grant admirably qualified him to perform his
present duty. He well understood the character of his listeners, who
were mostly a primitive people in their habits; and who, being a good
deal addicted to subtleties and nice distinctions in their religious
opinions, viewed the introduction of any such temporal assistance as
form into their spiritual worship not only with jealousy, but frequently
with disgust. He had acquired much of his knowledge from studying the
great book of human nature as it lay open in the world; and, knowing
how dangerous it was to contend with ignorance, uniformly endeavored
to avoid dictating where his better reason taught him it was the most
prudent to attempt to lead, His orthodoxy had no dependence on his
cassock; he could pray with fervor and with faith, if circumstances
required it, without the assistance of his clerk; and he had even been
known to preach a most evangelical sermon, in the winning manner of
native eloquence, without the aid of a cambric handkerchief.
In the present instance he yielded, in many places, to the prejudices
of his congregation; and when he had ended, there was not one of his new
hearers who did not think the ceremonies less papal and offensive, and
more conformant to his or her own notions of devout worship, than they
had been led to expect from a service of forms, Richard found in the
divine, during the evening, a most powerful co-operator in his religious
schemes. In preaching, Mr. Grant endeavored to steer a middle course
between the mystical doctrines of those sublimated creeds which daily
involve their professors in the most absurd contradictions, and those
fluent roles of moral government which would reduce the Saviour to a
level with the teacher of a school of ethics. Doctrine it was necessary
to preach, for nothing less would have satisfied the disputatious people
who were his listeners, and who would have interpreted silence on his
part into a tacit acknowledgment of the superficial nature of his
creed. We have already said that, among the endless variety of religious
instructors, the settlers were accustomed to hear every denomination
urge its own distinctive precepts, and to have found one indifferent to
this Interesting subject would have been destructive to his influence.
But Mr. Grant so happily blended the universally received opinions of
the Christian faith with the dogmas of his own church that, although
none were entirely exempt from the influence of his reasons, very few
took any alarm at the innovation.
“When we consider the great diversity of the human character, influenced
as it is by education, by opportunity, and by the physical and moral
conditions of the creature, my dear hearers,” he earnestly concluded “it
can excite no surprise that creeds so very different in their
tendencies should grow out of a religion revealed, it is true, but whose
revelations are obscured by the lapse of ages, and whose doctrines were,
after the fashion of the countries in which they were first promulgated,
frequently delivered in parables, and in a language abounding in
metaphors and loaded with figures. On points where the learned have,
in purity of heart, been compelled to differ, the unlettered will
necessarily be at variance. But, happily for us, my brethren, the
fountain of divine love flows from a source too pure to admit of
pollution in its course; it extends, to those who drink of its vivifying
waters, the peace of the righteous, and life everlasting; it endures
through all time, and it pervades creation. If there be mystery in its
workings, it is the mystery of a Divinity. With a clear knowledge of the
nature, the might, and the majesty of God, there might be conviction,
but there could be no faith. If we are required to believe in doctrines
that seem not in conformity with the deductions of human wisdom, let us
never forget that such is the mandate of a wisdom that is infinite. It
is sufficient for us that enough is developed to point our path aright,
and to direct our wandering steps to that portal which shall open on the
light of an eternal day. Then, indeed, it may be humbly hoped that the
film which has been spread by the subtleties of earthly arguments will
be dissipated by the spiritual light of Heaven; and that our hour of
probation, by the aid of divine grace, being once passed in triumph,
will be followed by an eternity of intelligence and endless ages of
fruition. All that is now obscure shall become plain to our expanded
faculties; and what to our present senses may seem irreconcilable to
our limited notions of mercy, of justice, and of love, shall stand
irradiated by the light of truth, confessedly the suggestions of
Omniscience, and the acts of an All-powerful Benevolence.”
“What a lesson of humility, my brethren, might not each of us obtain
from a review of his infant hours, and the recollection of his juvenile
passions! How differently do the same acts of parental rigor appear
in the eyes of the suffering child and of the chastened man! When the
sophist would supplant, with the wild theories of his worldly wisdom,
the positive mandates of inspiration, let him remember the expansion of
his own feeble intellects, and pause--let him feel the wisdom of God
in what is partially concealed as well as that which is revealed; in
short, let him substitute humility for pride of reason--let him have
faith, and live!”
“The consideration of this subject is full of consolation, my hearers,
and does not fail to bring with it lessons of humility and of profit,
that, duly improved, would both chasten the heart and strengthen the
feeble-minded man in his course. It is a blessed consolation to be able
to lay the misdoubtings of our arrogant nature at the threshold of the
dwelling-place of the Deity, from whence they shall be swept away, at
the great opening of the portal, like the mists of the morning before
the rising sun. It teaches us a lesson of humility, by impressing us
with the imperfection of human powers, and by warning us of the many
weak points where we are open to the attack of the great enemy of our
race; it proves to us that we are in danger of being weak, when our
vanity would fain soothe us into the belief that we are most strong; it
forcibly points out to us the vainglory of intellect, and shows us
the vast difference between a saving faith and the corollaries of a
philosophical theology; and it teaches us to reduce our self-examination
to the test of good works. By good works must be understood the fruits
of repentance, the chiefest of which is charity. Not that charity only
which causes us to help the needy and comfort the suffering, but that
feeling of universal philanthropy which, by teaching us to love,
causes us to judge with lenity all men; striking at the root of
self-righteousness, and warning us to be sparing of our condemnation of
others, while our own salvation is not yet secure.”
“The lesson of expediency, my brethren, which I would gather from the
consideration of this subject, is most strongly inculcated by humility.
On the heading and essential points of our faith, there is but little
difference among those classes of Christians who acknowledge the
attributes of the Saviour, and depend on his mediation. But heresies
have polluted every church, and schisms are the fruit of disputation. In
order to arrest these dangers, and to insure the union of his followers,
it would seem that Christ had established his visible church and
delegated the ministry. Wise and holy men, the fathers of our religion,
have expended their labors in clearing what was revealed from the
obscurities of language, and the results of their experience and
researches have been embodied in the form of evangelical discipline
That this discipline must be salutary, is evident from the view of the
weakness of human nature that we have already taken; and that it may be
profitable to us, and all who listen to its precepts and its liturgy,
may God, in his infinite wisdom, grant!--And now to,” etc.
With this ingenious reference to his own forms and ministry, Mr. Grant
concluded his discourse. The most profound attention had been paid to
the sermon during the whole of its delivery, although the prayers had
not been received with so perfect demonstration of respect. This was by
no means an intended slight of that liturgy to which the divine alluded,
but was the habit of a people who owed their very existence, as a
distinct nation, to the doctrinal character of their ancestors. Sundry
looks of private dissatisfaction were exchanged between Hiram and one
or two of the leading members of the conference, but the feeling went no
further at that time; and the congregation, after receiving the blessing
of Mr. Grant., dispersed in Silence, and with great decorum.