An English lady visiting France, who had been mightily impressed by the
rites of the Roman Catholic religion, revived there since the
restoration of the Bourbons, was induced to attend the Protestant
worship, at the chapel of the British ambassador. She says “the
splendour of the Romish service, the superb dresses, the chanting,
accompanied by beautiful music, the lights, and the other ceremonies,
completely overpowered my mind; at last on the Sunday before I left
Paris I went to our ambassador’s chapel, just to say that I _had_ been.
There was none of the pomp I had been so lately delighted with; the
prevailing character of the worship was simplicity; the minister who
delivered the sermon was only sufficiently elevated to be seen by the
auditors; he preached to a silent and attentive congregation, whose
senses had not been previously affected; his discourse was earnest,
persuasive, and convincing. I began to perceive the difference between
appeals to the feelings and to the understanding, and I came home a
better Protestant and I hope a better Christian than when I left
England.”
~Quarter-day.~
_For the Every-Day Book._
This is _quarter-day_!--what a variety of thought and feeling it calls
up in the minds of thousands in this great metropolis. How many changes
of abode, voluntary and involuntary, for the better and for the worse,
are now destined to take place! There is the charm of novelty at least;
and when the mind is disposed to be pleased, as it is when the will
leads, it inclines to extract gratification from the anticipation of
advantages, rather than to be disturbed by any latent doubts which time
may or may not realize.
Perhaps the _removal_ is to a house of decidedly superior class to the
present; and if this step is the consequence of augmented resources, it
is the first indication to the world of the happy circumstance. Here,
then, is an additional ground of pleasure, not very heroic indeed, but
perfectly natural. Experience may have shown us that mere progression in
life is not always connected with progression in happiness; and
therefore, though we may smile at the simplicity which connects them in
idea, yet our recollection of times past, when we ourselves indulged the
delusion, precludes us from expressing feelings that we have acquired by
experience. The pleasure, if from a shallow source, is at least a
present benefit, and a sort of counterpoise to vexations from imaginary
causes. It does not seem agreeable to contemplate retrogression; to
behold a family descending from their wonted sphere, and becoming the
inmates of a humbler dwelling; yet, they who have had the resolution, I
may almost say the magnanimity, voluntarily to descend, may reasonably
be expected again to rise. They have given proof of the possession of
one quality indispensable in such an attempt--that mental decision, by
which they have achieved a task, difficult, painful, and to many,
impracticable. They have shown, too, their ability to form a correct
estimate of the value of the world’s opinion, so far as it is influenced
by external appearances, and boldly disregarding its terrors, have
wisely resolved to let go that which could not be much longer held. By
this determination, besides rescuing themselves from a variety of
perpetually recurring embarrassments and annoyances, they have
suppressed half the sneers which the malicious had in store for them,
had their decline reached its expected crisis, while they have secured
the approbation and kind wishes of all the good and considerate. The
consciousness of this consoles them for what is past, contents them with
the present, and animates their hopes for the future.
Now, let us shift the scene a little, and look at quarter-day under
another aspect. On this day some may quit, some may remain; _all_ must
pay--that can! Alas, that there should be some unable! I pass over the
rich, whether landlord or tenant; the effects of quarter-day to them are
sufficiently obvious: they feel little or no sensation on its approach
or arrival, and when it is over, they feel no alteration in their
accustomed necessaries and luxuries. Not so with the _poor_ man; I mean
the man who, in _whatever_ station, feels his growing inability to meet
the demands periodically and continually making on him. What a day
quarter-day is to _him_! He sees its approach from a distance, tries to
be prepared, counts his expected means of being so, finds them short of
even his not very sanguine expectations, counts again, but can make no
more of them; and while day after day elapses, sees his little stock
diminishing. What shall he do? He perhaps knows his landlord to be
inexorable; how then shall he satisfy him? Shall he borrow? Alas, of
whom? Where dwell the practicers of this precept--“From him that would
borrow of thee turn thou not away?” Most of the professors of the
religion which enjoins this precept, construe it differently. What shall
he do? something must be soon decided on. He sits down to consider. He
looks about his neatly-furnished house or apartments, to see what out of
his humble possessions, he can convert into money. The faithful wife of
his bosom becomes of his council. There is nothing they have, which they
did not purchase for some particular, and as they then thought,
necessary purpose; how, then, can they spare any thing? they ruminate;
they repeat the names of the various articles, they fix on
nothing--there is nothing they can part with. They are about so to
decide; but their recollection that external resources are now all dried
up, obliges them to resume their task, and resolutely determine to do
without something, however painful may be the sacrifice. Could we hear
the reasons which persons thus situated assign, why this or that article
should by no means be parted with, we should be enabled, in some
degree, to appreciate their conflicts, and the heart-aches which precede
and accompany them. In such inventories much jewellery, diamond rings,
or valuable trinkets, are not to be expected. The few that there may be,
are probably tokens of affection, either from some deceased relative or
dear friend; or not less likely from the husband to the wife, given at
their union--“when life and hope were new”--when their minds were so
full of felicity, that no room was left for doubts as to its permanence;
when every future scene appeared to their glowing imaginations dressed
in beauty; when every scheme projected, appeared already crowned with
success; when the possibility of contingencies frustrating judicious
endeavours, either did not present itself to the mind, or presenting
itself, was dismissed as an unwelcome guest, “not having on the wedding
garment.” At such a time were those tokens presented, and they are now
produced. They serve to recall moments of bliss unalloyed by cares,
since become familiar. They were once valued as pledges of affection,
and now, when that affection endures in full force and tenderness, they
wish that those pledges had no other value than affection confers on
them, that so there might be no temptation to sacrifice them to a cruel
necessity. Let us, however, suppose some of them selected for disposal,
and the money raised to meet the portentous day. Our troubled
fellow-creatures breathe again, all dread is for the present banished;
joy, temporary, but oh! how sweet after such bitterness, is diffused
through their hearts, and gratitude to Providence for tranquillity, even
by such means restored, is a pervading feeling. It is, perhaps, prudent
at this juncture to leave them, rather than follow on to the end of the
next quarter. It may be that, by superior prudence or some unexpected
supply, a repetition of the same evil, or the occurrence of a greater is
avoided; yet, we all know that evils of the kind in question, are too
frequently followed by worse. If a family, owing to the operation of
some common cause, such as a rise in the price of provisions, or a
partial diminution of income from the depression of business, become
embarrassed and with difficulty enabled to pay their rent; the addition
of a fit of sickness, the unexpected failure of a debtor, or any other
contingency of the sort, (assistance from without not being afforded,)
prevents them altogether. The case is then desperate. The power which
the law thus permits a landlord to exercise, is one of fearful
magnitude, and is certainly admirably calculated to discover the stuff
he is made of. Yet, strange as it seems, this power is often enforced in
all its rigour, and the merciless enforcers lose not, apparently, a jot
of reputation, nor forfeit the esteem of their intimates: so much does
familiarity with an oppressive action deaden the perception of its real
nature, and so apt are we to forget that owing to the imperfection of
human institutions, an action may be legal and cruel at the same time!
The common phrase, “So and so have had their goods seized for rent,”
often uttered with indifference and heard without emotion, is a phrase
pregnant with meaning of the direst import. It means that they--wife,
children, and all--who last night sat in a decent room, surrounded by
their own furniture, have now not a chair of their own to sit on; that
they, who last night could retire to a comfortable bed, after the
fatigues and anxieties of the day, have tonight not a bed to lie on--or
none but what the doubtful ability or humanity of strangers or relations
may supply: it means that sighs and tears are produced, where once
smiles and tranquillity existed; or, perhaps, that long cherished hopes
of surmounting difficulties, have by one blow been utterly
destroyed,--that the stock of expedients long becoming threadbare, is at
last quite worn out, and all past efforts rendered of no avail, though
some for a time seemed likely to be available. It means that the
hollowness of professed friends has been made manifest; that the busy
tongue of detraction has found employment; that malice is rejoicing;
envy is at a feast; and that the viands are the afflictions of the
desolate. Landlord! ponder on these consequences ere you distrain for
rent, and let your heart, rather than the law, be the guide of your
conduct. The additional money you may receive by distraining may,
indeed, add something to the luxuries of your table, but it can hardly
fail to diminish your relish. You may, perhaps, by adopting the harsh
proceeding, add down to your pillow, but trust not that your sleep will
be tranquil or your dreams pleasant. Above all remember the
benediction--“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy;”
and inspired with the sentiment, and reflecting on the fluctuations
which are every day occurring, the poor and humble raised, and the
wealthy and apparently secure brought down, you will need no other
incitement to fulfil the golden rule of your religion--“Do unto others
as ye would they should do unto you.”