Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated) (434 page)

As he was himself a friend to many, and an enemy to none, so by a kind of reaction, he had, I think I might say, no enemies and many friends. He was a conscientious Churchman, and true Protestant — but tolerant to all his differing brethren; where he could not cordially unite, he determined that separation should be no ground of hostility — making due allowance for the natural effects of birth, education and circumstances, and looking to God for causing all things to work together for good to those who love Him. Thus, our reverend friend lived — but, it may be asked, how did he die? During his illness, I generally visited him twice a day, joined with him in prayer, heard his request for the prayers of this congregation, listened to him whilst he expressed his entire dependence on the merits of the Saviour, heard of his pious admonitions to his attendants, and saw him in tranquility close his eyes on this bustling, vain, selfish world; so that I may truly say, his end was peace, and his hope glory. But after all, I do not, and never did consider, the transactions of a dying bed as exclusively a safe criterion to judge of a man’s character. If we would know whether a man has died in the Lord, we ought, in the first instance to ask, has he lived in the Lord? Some, I fear, have greatly and dangerously erred on this head, and an error here, would be as fatal as it would be irretrievable. In the dying scenes of Jacob, David, and the martyr Stephen, we see calm confidence, solemn reverence, and deep and serious reflection, with an evident godly awe of the near approach of eternity and judgment — and above all, we have a perfect criterion, on that occasion, when supernatural darkness covered the world, and the graves were opened, and the veil of the temple rent, when the sun hid his face in night, and the Saviour of the World died. Extraordinary exhilaration may be
 
right, but it may also be wrong; it might exist in a Mussalman, or Jew, and may be, as I fear it often is, the natural result of ignorance, the mere offspring of physical causes, originating in the peculiarity of disease, or the injudicious conduct, or still more injudicious sayings of well-meaning, but unguarded bystanders; whereas, the holy confidence, the calm resignation, the solemn awe of the dying Christian, can only be the effects of divine grace in the regenerated heart, and can alone afford sure proof that the spirit of Infinite Wisdom has been the Teacher.

But these reflections must come to a conclusion. Notwithstanding all that medical skill, the prayers, and good wishes of friends, the tender affection of relations, and the careful attention of nurses could do, our friend is gone the way of all flesh, and the people and places which knew him once, shall know him no more. But let us not grieve, as those without hope. The spotless Saviour wept for his friend Lazarus, and we may, and ought to weep for our departed friends. Want of natural affection is ranked amongst the condemning sins. But our privilege as Christians is to look forward to a joyous resurrection, in the hope of being for ever re-united above, with those who have been taken from us by death, and whom we have loved here below. Let us often think of the words of our text, and pray that we may be enabled to mark, learn, and inwardly digest them. “The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law; but thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as you know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.”

Our late lamented friend ran a bright, but short career. He died in the twenty-sixth year of his age. He had not attained the meridian of man’s life; amidst the joyous, and sanguine anticipations of friends, the good wishes of all, and, as may naturally be supposed, the glad hopes of himself, he was summoned for his removal from this world, to the bar of eternity, by Him whom at the instant, Emperors and Kings, as well as their meanest subjects, angels and mortals, demons, and all created beings must
 
obey. When bad men are removed by death the world rejoices, and considers this as a happy riddance, and a just retribution; when their life is prolonged in prosperity, many, like the Psalmist are puzzled and perplexed, till like him they go into the sanctuary of the Lord, and discover that all this is in the way of mercy, or of judgment. When good men die early, in the full tide of their usefulness, there is bewildering amazement, till we read in the scriptures, that in mercy they are taken away from the evil to come. In all such cases, we want faith, and strong faith too. We are prone to look more than we are generally aware of with the eye of the flesh, and not of faith. Our faith, too frequently, is not the substance of things hoped for, nor the evidence of things not seen; and consequently, this world, with its false lights, eclipses in our morbid imagination, the unimaginable splendour of heaven. Honour and riches, power and fame, with long life to enjoy them, frequently occupy but too much of our attention, whilst we dread the visitation of death, the darkness of the grave, the worm of corruption, the loathsome work of decomposition, eternal separation and oblivion. A joyous resurrection, the glorious immortal transformation, the eternity of unspeakable bliss, the freedom from sin and sinners, and the presence of God and His angels, are seen in dim perspective. Were it not for these things, good men would not dread dissolution. There is more of scepticism in man’s creed than he is wont to think of. Else, why does the pious youth fear to die? perhaps, that he may live well, perhaps not — or for what reason does the good old man wish to protract his weary existence, till he becomes a burthen to himself, and an incumbrance to others; till, like a dismantled tower, or a scathed oak, he is divested of his ornaments; and left without friends, without affections, without the capability of receiving or communicating pleasure or profit. Is it that he may enjoy life? This cannot be. We may easily comprehend why the wicked have a desire for life, and a dread of death and judgment; but, that the followers of Christ should tremble at the last step of their journey, which will introduce them into His presence and His glory, can only be accounted for by the weakness of their faith, and the remains of sin, that would chain them
 
down, or keep them back from those unspeakable pleasures which he has in reserve for them in the kingdom of their Heavenly Father.

Brethren, the human heart is weak, wicked, and wrong in its reasoning and conclusions; let us, therefore, not trust in it, but in the strength and wisdom of God, let us walk by faith and not by sight, and be always prepared for death and judgment, looking forward to, and longing for, a glorious resurrection, and eternal salvation, through Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour; to whom, with the Almighty Father, and Holy Spirit, we would ascribe all glory, praise, power and dominion, both now and for ever. Amen!

The lap against which my temples used to beat was not that of a Mother or daughter but of a
WIFE
and if I appear outwardly forgetful of her now do I not inwardly think of her till sleep snatches away remembrance? I have no longer the half bashful half delighted cheek to blush to my morning salutations no longer the evening solace for the past days cares but of those cares themselves I have plenty who as each fresh one enters my bosom bring tidings of others on the road and if this strong Frame and iron constitution of mine fail me — Good God! What should I do! I dread a single hint at physical decay as the criminal does each tick of the clock which must toll his knell. When this firm foot can no longer tread the heather this warm blood no longer thrill to a womans touch this working brain no longer teem with thick coming fancies this omnivourous stomach no longer bear its three bottles or twenty tumblers — then what the devil is Alexander Percy to do? I am not a woman to bear pain with patience so the life of an invalid would kill me or drive me mad. Fancy
ME
reclining on four pillows — attended by as many nurses — the pill and the draught my only nourishment — the physician and the surgeon my only friends — cares for a decaying body my employment for this life — My Vicar or his curate the gate posts to flank me in an Harlequin jump into the life to come No Mary — No, nor
Thee
Maria — to remind me by their voice and presence that earth has had its ‘Paradise lost’; no Ezekiel or Zechariah or Habbakuk or other hero with a name as rough as his beard to give me a shoulder hitch into ‘Paradise regained.’ Well as honest Nym has it “things must be as they may’ So for this days work I shall begin with some sport — secondly get up a row — thirdly excite a fever in my veins by an hours talk with yonder neglected lady — fourthly excite one in the veins of my companions by rapid communication with Thurstons wine cellar — fifthly go to bed in as bad a temper as a badger after a baiting and sixthly rise from bed with another step advanced toward the bodily ruin I so abhorr. Well as Nym again has it “Conclusions must pass” —
 
Hallo! Bob you rascal did I not swear I would kick you down to your last master if I found you drunk this
 
morning — What are you bullying Thurston for? But you shall have my boots presently.”

So saying and in no very hesitating accent Mr Percy jumped over the gully which divided him from the shooting party gathering round the fire, and collared his little old servant who had been standing opposite to the Lord of the manor with most un — menial assurance, while Mr Thurston looked on the groom with a scowl which was transfered on Percy’s advent to the grooms master.

“What is this old horse stealer about Thurston?” asked Mr Percy giving Bob a shake that discomposed his stomach —

“Oh Sir — ask your servant yourself — for I’m damned if I care.”

“Thurston let me have none of your ill humours shewn or I’ll send you to the Leeds Infirmary to be tapped — Now Robert le Diable — ”

“Aw cannot spake Maister — yaw throttle me so.”

“Lie the first — now go on you old fool — Hector do not you interfere.”

“Weel Maister” said the old man liberated from the gripe of his gigantic young Master — and putting on the mask of one grievously wronged though much forgiving — “Weel Aw will just tell all as straight as t’ Craven Heifer’s back and as fast as the winner o’ th’ Leger — Weel Aw hev been yaw’re sarvent and the sarvent o’ yaw’re father — and knew him that wor th’ owd maister of all — and hev donced you on me knees and gein ye th’ first pack of cairds you handled — and leughed when yaw teuk th’ Jack up and said he wor a sweet un and” — Here the old patriarch wiped one eye with his coat cuff but the clenched and whitened knuckles of his masters fist moved him to restrain his more tender feelings — “Weel — Aw niwer wor so behaved tull sin’ aw wor wick and walking! Aw can stand somemut to sup on, but Aw can
not
stand a lee! — This Gentleman says Aw wor seen wi’ a lady in his plantation this varry morning and Aw can tak my awn owd family Bible to witness that Aw nivver melled wi’ no lasses niwer sin’ aw wor born into this wearisome warld!”

Thurston himself could not help a grim smile at the old scoundrels denial of attempts at flirtation but all smile on his face died as soon as born so he grimly asked Percy

“Are we going to lose our sport for your impudent old groom?”

“Oh no Thurston — time enough yet — now Bob my Vestal virgin — go on!”

“Weel Maister he says he see’d me wi’ his awn cousin — Miss — Aw do not kmow what they call her.”

“Miss Allen Bob — well go on lad — ”

“And he said he saw thee kiss her” roared Mr Montmorency in high apparent glee at the farce enacting —

“Silence Hector as you value that front tooth — ” exclaimed Percy rather seriously.

“Naw Maister Aw tak the blessed book or owd John Wesleys hymns or ought else yaw like to witness that Aw wor there and then filling yawr hampers and feeding yawre dogs — for Me — me thats gotten to age Aw hev getten to — to be called a follower o’ women is
railly
— nay — it’s beyont raison!”

“Now Percy” broke in Mr Thurston “I must stop this humbug — I did see from my dressing room window that fellow of yours pass to and from one of my relations — I mean a yong lady in my house as if on a message or by appointment — and I afterwards saw a Gentleman whom Montmorency saw like wise and affirms was yourself enter into the thicket — Come aside Percy — I want to talk to you.”

“Not a step from this spot will I stir William — I’ll have this cleared up before I walk a stride or fire a shot!”

Mr Percy’s brow darkened into the hue almost of Thurstons as he laid down his fowling piece and turning to Mr Montmorency asked —

“Now Hector — this day shall either prove sport or earnest — Which do you wish it to be — I ask Thurston as well as yourself and can tell you I am ready for either — ”

“For sport — I should have said my dearest” chuckled the Barrister — “But if we stay here much longer we shall have a glut of that sort of thing — We shall need earnest to vary the entertainment. Two Squires quarrelling over a drunken servant about a mornings dream! Pray God they do not shoot each other instead of moor cocks.”

“Hector my old fellow I am not just in the humour to be manufactured into either a cricket bat or ball or wicket I wish neither to strike — be the means of striking or be struck but I am — if as innocent looking as arsenic — just as dangerous, and look at this” — here Mr Percy dashed a charge of powder from his flask into his palm — “There is stuff that can keep quiet for twenty yearrs but if kept carefully mark you — only wants one snap of that trigger to send to Hell King Solomon in all his glory”

“Aye — its pretty powder — Its like thy temper Percy — short and sudden and like friend Thurstons face — black and ugly”

“Come aside Percy — I want to talk to you” said Thurston breaking in on the conversation “And I say Alexander You must come or I’ll take care we do not make a pleasant day of it though I
am
your host — ”

The idea that a quarrel with his ill tempered entertainer would
just
now
be very ill timed was cunningly whispered by Montmorency into Percy’s ear and readily recieved by the latter who walked to a short distance with Mr Thurston and then was stopped by the latter who said with a burst of ill temper

“What the devil did you meet Miss Allen for this morning”

“If I did it was as a somnambulist”

“Montmorency says you did”

“Then he lies.”

“Your servant I myself saw meet her.”

“Thats more than I did”

“But he is your servant and so he must have met her on a message from yourself”

“Thats more than I know”

“Is he not your servant?”

“No — He is my groom but the devils servant”

“Percy you play with edge tools and I will not be baulked by you! Mind what I say —
I
will
not
be
baulked
by
you
! You know what I mean and either in one case or in another I repeat I will not be baulked by you! I am a man of few words Percy but if I do not say much I think a deal and on occasion I can act — I do not speak threatningly — I regard you as my guest and aquaintance and friend and in fact all that sort of thing — but — why if the truth will out — I have lost a deal of money and I cannot be bothered — there will be mischeif Sir if I am in the least troubled depend upon it — You know all about Miss Allen — You know whether or not she is my cousin — and Mr Montmorency says you did meet her this morning — It could be to no good Percy for I have a deal of black blood, though I will not as I repeat threaten any one, and I could bear no interference with any arrangements of mine! — Then besides all that — all we have talked about — ”

“Nay Thurston” remarked Percy “I have not talked at all — I have not the most distant idea of the goal which you would gain — I only know that we are delaying our sport incommoding our friends and, if the truth must bespoken, making cursed fools of ourselves.”

Mr Thurston on hearing the calm and rather supercilious voice of Mr Percy seemed to suffer a mental change similar to what a wet blanket might physically produce if wrapped round a fevered body. He leaned on his gun and holding out his hand rather awkwardly replied

“I meant nothing wrong — nothing I assure you — I only wanted to know — that is I do know Mr Montmorency is a — ”

“A Scoundrel” said Percy, finishing the sentence as without accepting Thurstons proffered hand he turned with hasty steps to rejoin his still hastier companions.

Mr Thurston followed with a look so sweet that O’ Connor declared he had swallowed vitriolic acid instead of porter and Quamina swore he never had a blacker bargain from Camaroons or Congo rivers. Montmorency had long been joking with the Keepers who evidently marked him down as a delightful fellow and Mr Robert King had for an equal space of time been venting the indignation of outraged virtue upon the boys and grooms who held charge of the baskets. Now however — the two magnates having returned without black eyes or bloody noses and apparently on terms of friendship, however wide their hearts might be assunder — though one might be conscious of his mastership over and exulting in his powers to torture a being bound by this worlds laws to him in the old Hall far below them — and the other — two days since,

“Vacant hand and heart and eye”

now feeling a lawless abandonment of self to the white cheek and the melancholy eyes which from habitual discharge of a routine of duties hardly ever changed however much the heart might throb or the soul might sicken — Now, the procession felt at liberty to move, and with the wild moors before them the hopes of sport around them — the possession of sound health among them — for even old King was undecayed — why did they not feel truly happy?

Those whose lives lie within the walls of their library little know what has formed the existence of the men who have given them their treasures and those who know no feelings beyond domestic duties cannot divine the thoughts that cross strong but unbridled minds without a home to flee to or long lost to thoughts of home.

Among the gentlemen who formed this army against the ‘Moors’ who had a real home? Mr Montmorency had not — whose wife lay under the huge roof of Cologne Cathedral dead after a few years of sufferance under himself and a few months of the outbreak and indulgence of long felt and late enjoyed love of the man who ‘left her alone to die’ — That Man — Mr Percy had not — who besides such thorns in his flesh — such pinches as the old man Adam gave Christians — knew that cold earth embraced the little lady who never thought but for him — Nor had Mr O’ Connor who felt bitterly that his rents as soon as due must be recieved not by his own itching fingers but by the widely expanding palm of Mr Jeremiah Simpson — Nor had the said Simpson whose nerves were troubled respecting the value of certain American and Spanish mortgages held from Mr Quamina Nor had Quamina whose soul longed by another venture on the now hazardous middle passage to gain enough to clear himself from Jeremiahs talons — Nor had Gordon who felt that his fate and fortune spun round with a teetotum — that Red and Black gave the colours to his chamelion destiny — Nor had probably any one of the fry of Servants Keepers watchers and drivers — for