Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated) (440 page)

On the evening of the first day of Ardmore fair, Sanctification Chapel presented to the crowd assembled about its doors a blaze of gas light from every square paned window — Inside abundance of light threw a yellow glory over the rapidly filling pews and galleries, while a double lustre blessed the green baize-bordered platform erected for the distinguished orators in the forthcoming missionary meeting. Men with slouched shoulders and downcast eyes assiduously trimmed the lamps or scraped discordant preludes on violins and violoncello’s[sic] — and perspiring but regenerated souls buried their faces in their hands under the influence of groaning prayer. The ladies too crowded fast into the scene of action with a very holy fervour though a sadly carnal attention to dress: Their upturned eyes and saddned sighs’ told of heaven but their satin bonnets and white handkercheifs smelt a little ‘of the earth, earthy’.

For a while the bare boards of the platform caused a feeling of impatience in the rapidly filling edifice but ere long those boards were pressed by the boots of five as beautiful specimens of sinners saved as ever trod upon
 
Memel timber. The Rev H.M.M. Montmorency — The Rev J Simpson — the Rev G Gordon — the Rev A, O’ Connor — the Rev Q Quamina — all attired in solemn sable took their seats amid the deepest groans among the male and with the liveliest sympathies from the female portion of the audience — and though the chosen presented countenances as rascally as ever faced the mob round Tyburn tree their erect gentlemanly figures and well whiskered manliness told well especially with the fairer and holier portion of the audience.

Mr Slugg followed these christian warriors and whispered a few words while he familiarily kept hold of the Rev Hectors Coat button but Montmorency audibly responded —

“My beloved fellow soldier wishes to fight the good fight himself — so he will both give out the hymn and probably lead on the Organ. On his knees this morning he vowed that the work should not be done slackly.”

Ere he had ceased speaking the lion of the evening was seen making his way among a reverently parting crowd in the aisle; and, looking neither to the right hand or the left he ascended to his place, faced his audience and shewed to many a tenderly swimming eye a very tall shapely figure in solemn black with an aristocratic forehead shining in the gas light and a face whose angelic aspect was only marred by the accursed chestnut cuds and orange whiskers.

Waiting till an obligate movement of sighs and groans had ceased the Rev Alexander Percy began in a distinct but calm and silvery voice —

“My brethren and Sisters in Christ — I feel so much oppressed with the weight of a duty which a higher power has laid upon me that I request from you a song of prayer and praise ere we open forth the business of this evening — My brother Slugg I shall give out an hymn and accompany it on the Organ myself so it will be quite unnecessary for my Christian friend to make any use of the instruments I see in the music seat.”

Slugg and the musicians could not forbear a look of very carnal mortification at the hauteur with which the holy man declined their assistance, but Montmorency covered his face with his handkercheif to hide the uncontrollable risibilty which shook his ribs, as his experienced eyes saw the resolute determination on the part of his beloved friend to carry out the present farce with all the earnestness of his wayward and intractable character. Mr Percy, who if his wrapt and inspired eyes told [the] truth, had really seized the spirit of the hour, advanced to the front of the platform — waved his hand to still the troubled sea of groans and continued —

“Let us miserable worms send up our cry as if from Tophet in the following words and adapted to the tune of “Widdops th.”

Before Our mighty Makers throne

Let us submissive kneel in prayer,

And strive for scarlet sins to atone

For we must pray that He may hear.

Deep — Mighty Lord — be our despair —

Distinct our consciousness of sin —

Lest from thine eyes our outside fan —

Should strive to hide our crimes within.

We know that we are formed for crime,

That through our lifetime crimes we form,

Believing, madly, all the time

That mercy sheilds us from the storm;

Or, as long since, in Shinars plain,

Rebellious men their Tower of pride

Raised up, in hopes, by labour vain

That thus thy power might be defied,

So we, by impious moral code

Or ever changing creeds of faith,

Think we may climb the narrow road,

Elude thy arm, and cheat our death.

But, Oh when we have gained Heaven’s gate,

The eternal crown intent to win,

Long must we knock and, lingering, wait

Ere watching angels let us in!

“Hast thou repented of thy sin?”

What Soul — my God can answer then?

“Go back — Thy path again begin,

And weep and watch and wait again!”

But if returning be denied

By Deaths grim gateway, closed behind,

Where flies our heaven, our hope, our pride?

They fly like chaff before the wind!

Lord, let us know our treacherous mind

Even though that knowledge bring despair;

For, wandering thus, accursed and blind,

We dare not hope that Thou wilt hear!“

As I have already alluded to Mr Percy’s musical powers I need hardly add now that when after giving out the hymn he took his seat at the Organ he soon sent the solemn harmony rolling through the chapel and ascending as if to heaven. Whatever the discomfited gut scrapers felt they were obliged to stare at [the] powers of the ‘rich converted squire’ and even the Rev S Slugg gave a groan of astonishment when the last deep chord had died away.

Mr Percy again advanced to the front of the platform and continued in what the soul saved declared were heavenly tones,

“My brethren God hath opened out a path through this worlds wilderness, and as to those who ask, much will be given, so to you who seek much will be found. We are nothing ourselves and by ourselves we can do nothing but guided by that Star which shone over Bethlehem more than eighteen hundred years ago and which now, if our dimmed eyes could see it, shines over Ardmore we may pursue a soldiers path and ere morning win a new victory over the hitherto unvanquished Man of Sin. I appear before you now as the advocate — the counsel in fact for a wide world brought before Gods bar for crime, and, and unless I successfully plead their cause condemned to a far worse punishment than any which human ingenuity can inflict — I plead for that wide land whose burning Sun blazes on bodies whose blackened hue is as snow compared with the midnight darkness of their Souls — I plead my brethren for
Africa
— I am counsel also in Gods court of justice for another land still wider — still older — still fuller of all associations which can rouse our hearts to the trumpet sound of human triumphs the funeral wail of human sorrows born — A land wherein our mortal nature found its cradle — wherein a young world met a watery grave — From which a world now called old had its dawning — out of one of whose lonely villages rose the star that has never sunk and whose bright beam from Bethlehem I will trust shines upon our meeting here. I plead for the earth that gave our first father existence and our Saviour a sepulchre — I plead my Christian friends for Asia. Another land also, with which from shorter aquaintance we have less sympathy demands your own and my attention — A land whose mighty rivers roll unknown and incalculable wealth to Ocean but which in itself is — save the United States — a wild and howling waste — nearly Four thousand miles of water draining a surface more than that of all Europe send hourly wasted wealth to the Atlantic and sorrowful sighs to heaven — The Amazons river preaches a sermon in every gush of its stream — The bones that whiten peruvian mountains cry aloud for vengeance — My Brethren I plead for
America
.

Another clime which God has favoured — which he has blessed with small gratitude recieved in return — a clime that has seized the reins and will direct the progress of earthly improvement — That clime too I must plead for — I plead for wealth changed to pride — power changed to tyranny — Religion changed to hypocrisy — Truth changed to falsehood — population changed to corruption — knowledge obtained only to work the deeds of darkness — I plead for EUROPE. And now my brethren must I not plead for the Island which gave me birth? For
 
the land wherein lies all I have most loved on earth — among whose hills and vales my sorrowing body walks; beneath whose soil my weary head must rest — Must I not plead for our
England
— for our father land?”

Here Percy with eyes glistning and voice faltering under me influence of real though capricious emotions advanced to the very front of the platform and in still more earnest tones continued —

“The flesh that to my carnal mind was once worth all the world to me is now but an atom of thyself O world! The joy of my life is the sport of a worm! The anchor of my mortal back is torn away And now from rocks and quicksands who can save me — O Father! Only
Thou
! “For in thy hands is power and might, and Thou rulest and reignest over all!” Yet England — my country demands a warmer expression of feeling than any I can give to far off lands, for that place which all we love most fills our arms or their graves we must think of oftenest — love the most, and with the most agony deplore — Forgive me, my Christian bretheren — I wander from an important text — “Go ye forth and preach the gospel in my name.” Yes let us go from the north and the south, to the uttermost Isles of the sea — Let
His
word mingle with the sound of waters that heralds Lena and Obi and Eniseei to their cold Siberian Sea — Let it return in “iron knell” from the mighty peaks that separate dreary Thibet from fertile India — Let it wake the slumber of America with a voice louder than the thunders of her Andes — Let it tell unhappy Africa that the wide waves of her Nile or her Niger can never fertilize her thirsty sands till their waters unite with the sacred stream of Jordan.

Upon the banks of that river our souls will all in Gods due time have to stand, with the Ægypt of this worlds happiness and the wilderness of this worlds sorrow left like Israels forty years of wandering behind us — With the deep and treacherous flood beneath us — With the unclouded blaze of Heaven before us! —

That,

“When we tread the verge of Jordan”

we may have no need to fear that its waters will hurry us toward the sea of Sodom, but that guardian angels with white wings waving over a sunlit shore will give us a helping hand to place our feet on for ever flowering meadows. Is the earnest soul felt prayer of one who has wandered long in an inward Arabia and who now humbly prays that Yourselves and himself may reach a happy Canaan.

My Brethren excuse further speech from me at present; Brother Montmorency will introduce the speakers and open the real business of the meeting much more ably than myself — I feel I am nothing and have said
 
nothing.

May HE have pity on us all!”

The Rev A Percy with a general bow to the enraptured audience took his seat amid a flourish of five hundred white handkercheifs. The Male portion of the assembly groaned deeply but the female portion felt deeply, and if a keen observer had noticed the odd half smile on Percys mobile lips as he looked round after taking his seat he would have known at once that the Orator had known to whose feelings he ought to address himself and to whom he meant to feel indifference.

When the tempest of groans, sobs, sighs, and screamings had somewhat subsided the Revd Hector. M.M. Montmorency rose and with his blacksmith arms folded across a breast as broad as Ben Caunt’s and his wild Irish eyes glinting like black diamonds in a coal mine he burst forth in tones like the bass of La blache