The farmers' carry-alls filled the long shed beside the church, and their
leathern faces looked up, with their wives' and children's, at Mr. Peck
where he sat high behind the pulpit; a patient expectance suggested itself
in the men's bald or grizzled crowns, and in the fantastic hats and bonnets
of their women folks. The village ladies were all in the perfection of
their street costumes, and they compared well with three or four of the
ladies from South Hatboro', but the men with them spoiled all by the
inadequacy of their fashion. Mrs. Gates, the second of her name, was very
stylish, but the provision-man had honestly the effect of having got for
the day only into the black coat which he had bought ready-made for his
first wife's funeral. Mr. Wilmington, who appeared much shorter than his
wife as he sat beside her, was as much inferior to her in dress; he wore,
with the carelessness of a rich man who could afford simplicity, a loose
alpaca coat and a cambric neckcloth, over which he twisted his shrivelled
neck to catch sight of Annie, as she rustled up the aisle. Mrs. Gerrish--so
much as could be seen of her--was a mound of bugled velvet, topped by a
small bonnet, which seemed to have gone much to a fat black pompon; she sat
far within her pew, and their children stretched in a row from her side to
that of Mr. Gerrish, next the door. He did not look round at Annie, but
kept an attitude of fixed self-concentration, in harmony with the severe
old-school respectability of his dress; his wife leaned well forward to
see, and let all her censure appear in her eyes.
Colonel Marvin, of the largest shoe-shop, showed the side of his large
florid face, with the kindly smile that seemed to hang loosely upon it; and
there was a good number of the hat-shop and shoe-shop hands of different
ages and sexes scattered about. The gallery, commonly empty or almost so,
showed groups and single figures dropped about here and there on its seats.
The Putneys were in their pew, the little lame boy between the father and
mother, as their custom was. They each looked up at her as she passed, and
smiled in the slight measure of recognition which people permit themselves
in church. Putney was sitting with his head hanging forward in pathetic
dejection; his face, when he first lifted it to look at Annie in passing,
was haggard, but otherwise there was no consciousness in it of what had
passed since they had sat there the Sunday before. When his glance took in
Idella too, in her sudden finery, a light of friendly mocking came into it,
and seemed to comment the relation Annie had assumed to the child.
Annie's pew was just in front of Lyra's, and Lyra pursed her mouth in
burlesque surprise as Annie got into it with Idella and turned round to
lift the child to the seat. While Mr. Peck was giving out the hymn, Lyra
leaned forward and whispered--
“Don't imagine that this turnout is _all_ on your account, Annie. He's
going to preach against the Social Union and the social glass.”
The banter echoed a mechanical expectation in Annie's heart, which was
probably present in many others there. It was some time before she could
cast it out, even after he had taken his text, “I am the Resurrection and
the Life,” and she followed him with a mechanical disappointment at his
failure to meet it.
He began by saying that he wished to dissociate his text in his hearers'
minds from the scent of the upturned earth, and the fall of clods upon
the coffin lid, and he asked them to join him in attempting to find in it
another meaning beside that which it usually carried. He believed that
those words of Christ ought to speak to us of this world as well as the
next, and enjoin upon us the example which we might all find in Him, as
well as promise us immortality with Him. As the minister went on, Annie
followed him with the interest which her belief that she heard between the
words inspired, and occasionally in a discontent with what seemed a
mystical, almost a fantastical, quality of his thought.
“There is an evolution,” he continued, “in the moral as well as in the
material world, and good unfolds in greater good; that which was once
best ceases to be in that which is better. In the political world we have
striven forward to liberty as to the final good, but with this achieved we
find that liberty is only a means and not an end, and that we shall abuse
it as a means if we do not use it, even sacrifice it, to promote equality;
or in other words, equality is the perfect work, the evolution of liberty.
Patriotism has been the virtue which has secured an image of brotherhood,
rude and imperfect, to large numbers of men within certain limits, but
nationality must perish before the universal ideal of fraternity is
realised. Charity is the holiest of the agencies which have hitherto
wrought to redeem the race from savagery and despair; but there is
something holier yet than charity, something higher, something purer and
further from selfishness, something into which charity shall willingly grow
and cease, and that is _justice_. Not the justice of our Christless
codes, with their penalties, but the instinct of righteous shame which,
however dumbly, however obscurely, stirs in every honest man's heart when
his superfluity is confronted with another's destitution, and which is
destined to increase in power till it becomes the social as well as the
individual conscience. Then, in the truly Christian state, there shall be
no more asking and no more giving, no more gratitude and no more merit, no
more charity, but only and evermore justice; all shall share alike, and
want and luxury and killing toil and heartless indolence shall all cease
together.
“It is in the spirit of this justice that I believe Christ shall come to
judge the world; not to condemn and punish so much as to reconcile and to
right. We live in an age of seeming preparation for indefinite war. The
lines are drawn harder and faster between the rich and the poor, and on
either side the forces are embattled. The working-men are combined in vast
organisations to withstand the strength of the capitalists, and these are
taking the lesson and uniting in trusts. The smaller industries are gone,
and the smaller commerce is being devoured by the larger. Where many little
shops existed one huge factory assembles manufacture; one large store, in
which many different branches of trade are united, swallows up the small
dealers. Yet in the labour organisations, which have their bad side, their
weak side, through which the forces of hell enter, I see evidence of the
fact that the poor have at last had pity on the poor, and will no more
betray and underbid and desert one another, but will stand and fall
together as brothers; and the monopolies, though they are founded upon
ruin, though they know no pity and no relenting, have a final significance
which we must not lose sight of. They prophesy the end of competition;
_they eliminate_ one element of strife, of rivalry, of warfare. But
woe to them through whose evil this good comes, to any man who prospers on
to ease and fortune, forgetful or ignorant of the ruin on which his success
is built. For that death the resurrection and the life seem not to be.
Whatever his creed or his religious profession, his state is more pitiable
than that of the sceptic, whose words perhaps deny Christ, but whose works
affirm Him. There has been much anxiety in the Church for the future of
the world abandoned to the godlessness of science, but I cannot share it.
If God is, nothing exists but from Him. He directs the very reason that
questions Him, and Christ rises anew in the doubt of him that the sins of
Christendom inspire. So far from dreading such misgiving as comes from
contemplating the disparity between the Church's profession and her
performance, I welcome it as another resurrection and a new life.”
The minister paused and seemed about to resume, when a scuffling and
knocking noise drew all eyes toward the pew of the Gerrish family. Mr.
Gerrish had risen and flung open the door so sharply that it struck against
the frame-work of the pew, and he stood pulling his children, whom Mrs.
Gerrish urged from behind, one after another, into the aisle beside him.
One of them had been asleep, and he now gave way to the alarm which seizes
a small boy suddenly awakened. His mother tried to still him, stooping over
him and twitching him by the hand, with repeated “Sh! 'sh's!” as mothers
do, till her husband got her before him, and marched his family down the
aisle and out of the door. The noise of their feet over the floor of the
vestibule died away upon the stone steps outside. The minister allowed the
pause he had made to prolong itself painfully. He wavered, after clearing
his throat, as if to go on with his sermon, and then he said sadly, “Let us
pray!”