Chapter X: Letter VII: From the Same to the Same (2)

We took the round of St. Colman, a great white rock, about which, there is a legend, that perhaps I may tell you at some other time, and found my aunt seated where we left her: probably pondering upon past happiness, and present gratitude, for blessings still continued. Her _own_ sweet smile rested on her countenance, but a tear had recently fallen on her cheek. She did not wait to be addressed, but extending a hand to Fred. and his eldest sister, told them by a beaming, but silent look, that she complied with their entreaty. Fred. seized her in his arms in extacy, and having given one emphatic kiss, which bore a world of thanks upon its impress, he dashed out of the moss-house, unable to control the feeling of his manly heart. He is a fine creature. Emily and Charlotte glided away without uttering a word, and Fanny sobbed aloud. Her mother kissed her, and taking my arm, with a tremulous voice that seemed to struggle against display of those inward conflicts which caused it to falter, said to me, "dear Arthur, you are unused to scenes like this in fashionable life, yet they are very sweet. Like Cornelia, I have my jewels, and they are precious gems; but we shall be late, and Mr. Oliphant will wonder what has become of his congregation." I felt again the plaguy _choke_, which is an endemic, I suppose of these bogs, for I have scarcely ever experienced a fit of the disease till I came here. I could not help giving a gentle _squeeze_ to the hand that leaned upon my arm. "You are the happiest set I ever saw," said I. A suppressed sigh met my ear, and Fanny, jumping into the middle of the walk, to arrest our progress, broke a chain which would have led to sorrow. "Oh! mamma, stop: Arthur, don't put down your right foot for your life. There, now he's safe poor thing," and in an instant, a frightful frog, which had been hurt by some unlucky foot that had come down too weightily on the reptile's leg, was gently deposited, first on her hand, and then laid quietly on the grass under the shade of a Lauristinus. "I will return after breakfast," muttered Fan. "and if I find that you are not likely to recover, poor little wretch, you shall be put out of your pain by old Lorry." How my sisters would stare in wild amaze, were I to tell them of such an act! "Pray," said I, "Fanny, do you cherish in this manner, all the vile vermin that chance brings into your path?" "To be sure; every creature can live its short hour in pleasure or in pain; and the less pretty and likely to excite sympathy, the more I feel to be its friend: it is so pleasant to be kind to any thing that is unfortunate. These little traits let you into whole regions of character, and therefore it is that I relate them. You are very near the end of my _sketches_, and must then be contented with letters that sum up events; but I will not relax the labours of my _pencil_, to commence upon those of my _pen_, till you have Sunday sent down the stream of time, with the years before the flood."

Oliphant, who had not any _starch_ whatever in his features, met us at the verandah, without his hat, and looking as benign as the sky that he seemed to have stood admiring, before we reached the door. He helped my aunt to take off her shawl, and then presenting his arm, led the way towards the little room which serves as a chapel, where the only addition to the usual orisons, was a short and emphatic prayer for a blessing upon the employments and instruction, whether public or private, of this day. Breakfast ended, we soon set out to church, which is full a mile distant; but the fineness of the weather tempted most of the party to walk. My aunt and Emily accompanied Mr. Otway in his carriage; and young Bentley, who is on a visit at Lisfarne, joined _us_.

Arrived at the parish church, upon the side of a bleak and barren hill, I looked with amazement at the poverty of all around, not that there was an absence of decency, or even comfort; but the bare white-washed walls, the simple uncarved pulpit, unfringed cushions, with the absence of monumental decoration, music, and all the paraphernalia of church worship on our civilized side of the channel, struck me most unfavourably as I entered the family pew; but these things were soon forgotten, and the service was admirably performed. It so happened, that a gentleman who was on his way to some other part of the country, and whose talents as as a preacher stand deservedly high, had halted the day before at our parson's house, and was prevailed upon to take the pulpit. Mr. Oliphant, whose voice is well modulated, and whose devotion communicates a kindred feeling to his auditors, read the lessons, and prepared the mind, by the simple energy of his manner, for the powerful impression which awaited it. The sermon was upon prayer, and described the efficacy of supplication for divine mercy and assistance. The preacher, who perhaps I may never see again, has left an indelible impression upon my mind. He was tall, thin, and pale, with a wonderful benevolence of aspect. A holy calm sat upon all his features, which the serene but clear light of his eye distinguished completely from the dulness of vanity. There was nothing monotonous in the repose of his appearance; and when he opened his lips, the effect was of music spoken. To the finest voice I ever heard, he added the perfection of its adaptation to every variety of meaning which his matter was designed to convey, and while every inflection seemed to be suited to the words which it uttered with such correspondence of expression, that had _they_ been removed echo would still have given back all they could have imparted; _study_ was the last idea that suggested itself in listening to this eloquent being. All his tones, each look, each emphasis, appeared to be the spontaneous drapery in which a bright understanding clothed the feelings of his heart. I never was so transfixed in my life, and the apostolic sacredness of his figure harmonized so entirely with the simplicity of that lowly building divested of even the common-place decoration usual in English country churches, that for some time I was untrue to our beloved _Gothic_, and actually began to fancy that I had never till yesterday been amongst the faithful worshippers of God in His own Temple.

When the sermon was finished, the preacher remained in his pulpit, apparently desirous of allowing the congregation to disperse before his departure; and we saw no more of him.

The family of Glenalta had heard frequently of his extraordinary powers, but till now had never had an opportunity of judging for themselves. As we walked home, our talk by the wayside naturally enough took its hue from the scene which we had just quitted, and I asked Mr. Oliphant whether Mr. Leighton, whose performance had excited such general admiration, held the opinions distinctively denominated Calvinistic? "No, I should imagine not; but cannot speak positively, as I am not personally acquainted with him." Young Bentley, who was a little behind us, stepped up, and said, "I believe that I may answer with _certainty_; for an uncle of mine, who lives in the north, is very intimate with Mr. Leighton, and once asked him the question, from having heard some reports which were circulated touching the doctrines that he inculcated; and he entered upon that occasion into a full statement of his sentiments, which, to sum up briefly, may I fancy be comprised in two words, Gospel truth. He professed the most perfect charity for those who sincerely differ from him; and likewise the deepest admiration for holiness both of life and character, in some of those writers who held the peculiar tenets that mark Calvin's creed: but he unequivocally declared that he did not adopt the Genevan opinions, while he as unhesitatingly asserted his belief in evangelical piety as the only vital religion." "Pray," said I, "tell me what you mean; for with _us_ evangelical preachers are synonymous with Calvinists." "Aye," said Mr. Oliphant, "and probably with Methodists too: there is nothing so easy as a _name_ by which people are in the habit of representing things not understood or inquired into? I once knew a young man who, being met in the street by another who had known him at the university, was suddenly asked, 'Why, Dick, when did you turn Calvinist?' My young friend stared, and the other flippantly added, 'I heard that you never dance now, and therefore suppose you to be one of the new light.' In this way, idleness and folly make sad confusion; but to answer _your_ question, as to differences between certain opinions, I will put a volume into your hands, whenever you please, which will give you in detail the points upon which Calvin dissented from the Lutheran doctrines, and formed a sect now known by his name. Very many individuals are called Calvinists in the unthinking manner which I have described, without being in reality such; and many who incontrovertibly held Calvin's opinions, and others who do hold them at the present day, have been, and are, men whose virtues ought to excite our deepest veneration, and inspire an earnest desire of imitation; however we may consider them mistaken in their explanation of those parts of the Bible which _appear_ to sanction their doctrines. A pure evangelical faith embraces all that seems necessary to salvation, namely, the most perfect self-abasement before God, together with a lively sense of human unworthiness, full implicit confidence in the free gift of atoning mercy as the only way to everlasting glory, and an earnest desire, by increasing holiness and obedience, to prove ourselves the children of God. These principles, with the addition of a clear sense that we must _adopt_ them, and become, through the divine spirit infused into our souls, awakened from the delusive securities of natural pride, and humbled by an abiding consciousness of our sins and infirmity, constitute a summary of the Christian system, and comprise all that is essentially evangelical."

"I observed nothing," said I, "of peculiar phraseology in Mr. Leighton's discourse, and certainly never heard any language more entirely free than is his from that _twang_ which I have hitherto considered as a characteristic of the ultras in religion." "Now, my young friend," replied Domine, "are you not falling yourself into the error which you reprobate? Why use those words, which designate a sect of fashionable fault-finders, who rail against a religion which they do not take the trouble to investigate, just as plainly as the terms that you are desirous to abolish, mark what you call the new light fraternity?"

I told him that I stood corrected, and he shook my hand, saying, "I thank you for so kindly excusing me in thus abruptly calling you to order;" and then continued--"Mr. Leighton is a person of such character, that my conclusion respecting his not being a Calvinist was drawn entirely from the absence of those expressions generally belonging to the school." "But, sir," said Mr. Bentley, "I have heard several sermons preached by men whose principles I discovered at a _short turn_ now and then to be really Calvinistic, though they were free from every peculiarity of phrase, and so guarded as to doctrine, that for a long time I have resisted the idea of their being any other than evangelical ministers of the gospel, such as you described it to be." "Aye," answered Oliphant, "that is the very point to which I would draw your attention. It is, in my opinion, not right to consider any tenet of a particular creed essential to salvation, and yet _suppress_ it. Either the _decretum horribile_ is, or is not, a vital article: If not, there is no Calvinism, and if it be, no man who believes in its importance as a pillar of faith is justified by motives of _expediency_ in leaving out subjects so essential in _their_ view of the Christian system. A practical evil which I have known to proceed from what is commonly called a _judicious_ style of preaching is, that many are taken in to become members of a congregation before they are aware of the tenets of their instructor. Much confusion of mind sometimes results. Weak understandings are perplexed, and the effect is, that people who are not capable of drawing nice distinctions, at last slide gradually, without any exercise of their own will or understanding, into the opinions very different from those of which they _imagine_ themselves to be the advocates. But, my dear Mr. Howard, we should each in his own sphere, be it narrow or extended, rejoice in all the good that exists, though it may vary in its livery; and, so far from cultivating a spirit of ridicule, endeavour to draw the bonds of charity together, so as to include all the _sincere_ and pains-taking of the Christian community, within its ample scope."

We were now arrived at the house, and separated into little parties. My aunt and her daughters disappeared, Mr. Oliphant and young Bentley went off to the school, and Fred. and I took a long and delightful walk _tête-à-tête_ by the sea side. We had a great deal of conversation that informed me of many particulars respecting my family, with which I had never till then been made acquainted. On returning home, as we passed a cabin door, I saw Fanny busily distributing bread and money, the former from a large basket held by the same boy who attends the donkies, and the latter from a small leather bag which she carried slung upon her arm. "What are you doing here?" was answered by "nothing but our Sunday-work;" which, being interpreted, meant a weekly donation presented by these amiable girls to a few old people who cannot work, and who esteem the gift tenfold for being communicated by the hands of their young mistresses. This is a _striking_ feature in the poor of this island. In England, a shilling is a shilling provided it come legitimately from the mint, no matter who is the donor; but here sentiment, which with us is confined to the higher classes, is to be found in the most miserable habitations.

Charlotte, who was within the hut, joined our party, and told us that a poor man had just been expressing to her feelings which certainly are not common in any rank of life. She had said, "_Tim._, why are you not walking to-day; it is too fine weather to stay in the house?" and his answer was, "The finer the day, my dear miss, the more I'd covet not to be looking at it; ever since I buried _her_, I'd rather be to myself, and Sunday brings all the people out." What an artless expression of faithful affection! This man's wife, who is the "_her_" to be comprehended, he supposes, by every one, because there is no other to confound with the image in his own breast, has been dead for six years; and yet Memory is true to her trust. There is something very endearing in this tenderness, and we feel in good humour with our species, when an instance like what I have mentioned occurs, to prove that some of our best movements can spring from an uncultivated soil.

At dinner, after dinner, and all the evening, I am compelled in honesty to say, that not a moment passed heavily. We laughed and talked as usual. The interval between dinner and tea was spent in walking; that between tea and nine o'clock in listening to some of Handel's finest songs, very sweetly performed; and e'er "the close of the silent eve," the family group were once more assembled; and after prayers, and a short but impressive sermon, sent to their rest with an emphatic blessing.

You have now the panorama of Glenalta, and you are placed upon a platform in the midst, from which, turning yourself round the scene, you can form a just idea of every object which it includes within the circuit.

Thus have I brought (I believe with fidelity) the first part of my epistolary labours to a conclusion. From this time forth you will know all the _ground-plan_, and be enabled to allot its own place to each occurrence as it may chance to arise. As to the general impression made upon my mind, I own to you that I never was so happy anywhere as since I came to this lone and lovely spot; and I am powerfully struck with the truth of a remark which you once made to me, and which at that time though I had a vague idea of your being right, I had no actual experience that permitted me to confirm; namely, that _society_ in its true sense consists not in the number of those _persons_ with whom one converses, but in the number of ideas excited in one's own mind. Glenalta completely illustrates this observation. A family of five individuals, with the addition of two intimate friends, have furnished such variety and excitement in the flow of my thoughts, that I appear to have lived in a crowd; and through a long duration of time I was thinking of this circumstance before I got up this morning as a contradiction to the common notion, that when we are most happy time seems the fleetest; but I see how it is--both remarks are strictly true.

Stimulus of an agreeable diversified nature certainly prevents our taking note of time while _present_, and therefore it may be said to glide away rapidly; but when _remembered_, every circumstance which produced a change of pleasure, serves to distinguish one portion from another, and thus to afford a sense of progress, which the dullness of monotony is incapable of producing, just as a single acre of ground, animated by trees, houses, and living creatures, fills a much greater extent in imagination, when we _recollect_ the landscape, than is occupied by a wide expanse of ocean, though the latter, when _looked_ upon, appeared a boundless prospect; _still_, however, in the midst of this sunshine of the heart, I always bear in mind that its _locality_ is the secret of its charm. _You_ would not agree with me, but I am assured that the sort of thing that delights where one feels no _responsibility_, would cease to fascinate in the moment that the surrounding world came to call one to account for one's country cousins: and these dear souls, perhaps, might make one blush at the _west end_. I ought not to say so from any thing that I have seen here; but the whole course of our thoughts and feelings is _so_ subject to join the tide of opinion, that I hardly dare to assert how far my present impressions, vivid as they are, would stand the test of a Bond-street jury.

As Mrs. Malaprop says, however, "let us not have any retrospections as to the future" _Viva, viva_. I am so much better, that I hardly remember how I came here in the high road to Charon's ferry.

I am longing to hear from you. Don't forget to let me know about Stanhope, as Mr. Otway will be anxious to learn whether you and he _cement_.

Adieu, dear Falkland. Am I not the very pine-apple, and quintessence of letter-writers? Huzza!

Yours, ever affectionately,
ARTHUR HOWARD.