THE SERGEANT ON HIS TRIAL
The Sergeant went to church in the afternoon, but he went alone. Katie
was unable to accompany him. "She didna like," she said. But this
excuse being not quite satisfactory to her conscience, she had recourse
to that accommodating malady which comes to the rescue of universal
Christendom when in perplexity--a headache. In her case it really
existed as a fact, for she suffered from a genuine pain which she had
not sufficient knowledge or fashion to call "nervous", but which, more
than likely, really came under that designation. Her symptoms, as
described by herself, were that "her head was bizzin' and bummin' like a
bees' skep".
As the Sergeant marched to church, with his accustomed regular pace and
modest look, he could, without seeming to remark it, observe an interest
taken in his short journey never manifested before. An extra number of
faces filled the windows near his house, and looked at him with half
smile, half sneer.
There was nothing in the sermon of Mr. Porteous which indicated any wish
to "preach to the times",--a temptation which is often too strong for
preachers to resist who have nothing else ready or more interesting to
preach about. Many in a congregation who may be deaf and blind to the
Gospel, are wide-awake and attentive to gossip, from the pulpit. The
good man delivered himself of an excellent sermon, which, as usual, was
sound in doctrine and excellent in arrangement, with suitable
introduction, "heads of discourse", and practical conclusion. His
hearers, as a whole, were not of a character likely either to blame or
praise the teaching, far less to be materially influenced by it. They
were far too respectable and well-informed for that. They had "done the
right thing" in coming to church as usual, and were satisfied. There
was one remark often made in the minister's praise, that he was
singularly exact in preaching forty-five minutes, and in dismissing the
congregation at the hour and a half.
But there were evident signs of life in the announcement which he made
at the end of this day's service. He "_particularly_ requested a meeting
of Kirk Session in the vestry after the benediction, and expressed a
hope that _all_ the elders would, if possible, attend".
Adam Mercer snuffed the battle from afar; but as it was his "duty" to
obey the summons, he obeyed accordingly.
The Kirk Session, in spite of defects which attend all human
institutions, including the House of Lords, with its Bench of Bishops,
is one of the most useful courts in Scotland, and has contributed
immensely in very many ways to improve the moral and physical condition
of the people. Its members, as a rule, are the strength and comfort of
the minister, and it is, generally speaking, his own fault if they are
not. In the parish of Drumsylie the Session consisted of seven elders,
with the Minister as "Moderator". These elders represented very fairly,
on the whole, the sentiments of the congregation and parish on most
questions which could come before them.
As all meetings of Kirk Session are held in private, reporters and
lawyers being alike excluded, we shall not pretend to give any account
of what passed at this one. The parish rumours were to the effect that
the "Moderator", after having given a narrative of the occurrences of
the morning, explained how many most important principles were involved
in the case as it now stood--principles affecting the duty and powers of
Kirk Sessions; the social economy of the parish; the liberties and
influence of the Church, and the cause of Christian truth; and concluded
by suggesting the appointment of two members, Mr. Smellie and Mr.
Menzies, to "deal" with Mr. Mercer, and to report to the next meeting of
Session. This led to a sharp discussion, in which Mr. Gordon, a
proprietor in the neighbourhood, protested against any matter which "he
presumed to characterise as trifling and unworthy of their grave
attention", being brought before them at all. He also appealed the
whole case to the next meeting of Presbytery, which unfortunately was
not to take place for two months.
The Sergeant, strange to say, lost his temper when, having declared
"upon his honour as a soldier" that he meant no harm, and could
therefore make no apology, he was called to order by the Moderator for
using such a word as "honour" in a Church court. Thinking his honour
itself called in question, Adam abruptly left the meeting. Mr. Gordon,
it was alleged, had been seen returning home, at one moment laughing,
and the next evidently crying because of these proceedings; and more
than one of the elders, it was rumoured, were disposed to join him, but
were afraid of offending Mr. Porteous--a fear not unfrequently
experienced in the case of many of his parishioners. The minister, it
may be remarked, was fond of quoting the text, "_first_ pure, _then_
peaceable". But he never seemed to have attained the "first" in theory,
if one might judge from his neglect of the second in practice.
It was after this meeting of Session that Mr. Smellie remarked to Mr.
Menzies, as we have already recorded, that "the man was aince a
poacher!" a fact which, by the way, he had communicated to Mr. Porteous
also for the sake of "edification". Mr. Smellie bore a grudge towards
the Sergeant, who had somehow unwittingly ruffled his vanity or excited
his jealousy. He was smooth as a cat; and, like a cat, could purr,
fawn, see in the dark, glide noiselessly, or make a sudden spring on his
prey. The Sergeant, from certain circumstances which shall be hereafter
noticed, understood his character as few in the parish did. Mr. Menzies
was a different, and therefore better man, his only fault being that he
believed in Smellie.
The Sergeant was later than usual in returning home. It was impossible
to conceal from the inquiring and suspicious look of his wife that
something was out of joint, to the extent at least of making it
allowable and natural on her part to ask, "What's wrang noo, Adam?"
"Nothing particular, except wi' my honour," was the Sergeant's cool
reply.
"Yer honour! What's wrang wi' that?"
"The minister," said the Sergeant, "doots it, and he tells me that it
was wrang to speak aboot it."
On this, Katie, who did not quite comprehend his meaning, begged to know
what had taken place. "What did they say? What did they do? Wha
spak'?" And she poured out a number of questions which could not
speedily be answered. We hope it will not diminish the reader's
interest in this excellent woman if we admit that for a moment she, too,
became the slave of gossip. We deny that this prostration of the heart
and head to a mean idol is peculiar to woman--this craving for small
personal talk, this love of knowledge regarding one's neighbours in
those points especially which are not to their credit, or which at least
are naturally desired by them to be kept secret from the world. Weak,
idle, and especially vain men are as great traffickers as women in this
dissocial intercourse. Like small insects, they use their small stings
for annoyance, and are flattered when they make strong men wince.
Katie's fit was but momentary, and in the whole circumstances of the
case excusable.
The Sergeant told her of his pass at arms, and ended with an indignant
protest about his honour.
"What do they mak'," partly asserted, partly inquired Katie, "o' 'Honour
to whom honour?'--and 'Honour all men?'--and 'Honour the king?'--and
'Honour faither and mither?'--what _I_ did a' my life! I'll maintain
the word is Scriptoral!"
But the Sergeant, not being critical or controversial, did not wish to
contend with his wife on the connection which, as she supposed, existed
between the word honour, and his word of honour. His mind was becoming
perplexed and filled with painful thoughts. This antagonism into which
he had been driven with those whom he had hitherto respected and
followed with unhesitating confidence, was growing rapidly into a form
and shape which was beyond his experience--alien to his quiet and
unobtrusive disposition, and contrary to his whole purpose of life. He
sat down by the fireside, and went over all the events of the day. He
questioned himself as to what he had said or done to give offence to
mortal man. He recalled the history of his relationship to the
starling, to see, if possible, any wrong-doing in it. He reviewed the
scene in the Kirk Session; and his conclusion, on the one hand, was a
stone blindness as to the existence of any guilt on his part, and on the
other, a strong suspicion that his minister _could_ not do him a
wrong--_could_ not be so displeased upon unjust, ignorant, or
unrighteous grounds, and that consequently there was a something--though
what it was he could neither discover nor guess--which Mr. Porteous had
misunderstood and had been misled by. He went over and over again the
several items of this long account of debit and credit, without being
able to charge aught against himself, except possibly his concealment
from his minister of the reason why the starling was so much beloved,
and also the fact perhaps of his having taken offence, without adequate
cause, at the meeting of Session. The result of all these complex
cogitations between himself and the red embers in the grate, was a
resolution to go that evening to the Manse, and by a frank explanation
put an end to all misunderstanding. In his pure heart the minister was
reflected as a man of righteousness, love, and peace. He almost became
annoyed with the poor starling, especially as it seemed to enjoy perfect
ease and comfort on its perch, where it had settled for the night.
By and by he proceeded to call on the minister, but did not confide the
secret to Katie.