The Revolution in Tanner's Lane Part 22

"I can't 'elp it, ma'am, I must speak out. I say as he ought to 'ave married somebody better nor 'er; though I don't mind a tellin' of yer she's the best of the lot. Why did the Lord in heaven, as sent Jesus Christ to die for our souls, let my George 'ave such a woman as that?

What poor silly creaturs we all are!" and the old woman, bending her head down, shook it mournfully and rubbed her knees with her hand.

She was thinking of him as he lay in her lap years and years ago, and pondering, in her disconnected, incoherent way, over the mysteries which are mysteries to us as much as to her.

Mrs. Broad, who was in constant attendance upon Priscilla, at the very earliest moment p.r.o.nounced the baby a Flavel, and made haste to tell father and mother so. There was no mistaking a refinement, so to say, in the features and an expression in the eye. George, of course, was nearly banished for a time, and was much with his father and mother. At length, however, the hour arrived when the nurse took her departure, and, Mrs. Broad having also somewhat retired, he began to see a little more of his wife; but it was very little. She was altogether shut up in maternal cares--closed round, apparently, from the whole world. He was not altogether displeased, but he did at times think that she might give him a moment now and then, especially as he was greatly interested in the coming county election. It was rather too early in the day for a Free Trader to stand as a candidate, but two Whigs, of whom they had great hopes, had been put up, and both George and his father were most energetic in canva.s.sing and on committees.

Mr. Broad had decided not to vote. He did not deny that his sympathies were not with the Tories, but as a minister of religion it would be better for him to remain neutral. This annoyed the Allens and damaged their cause. At a meeting held by the Tories one of the speakers called upon the audience to observe that all the respectable people, with very few exceptions, were on their side. "Why," cried he, "I'll bet you, my friends, all Lombard Street to a china orange that they don't get even the Dissenting parson to vote for the Radicals. Of course he won't, and why? Just because he's a cut above his congregation, and knows a little more than they do, and belongs to the intelligent cla.s.ses."

George bethought himself that perhaps he might do something through Priscilla to influence her mother, and he determined to speak to her about it. He came home one evening after attending a committee, and found supper ready. Priscilla was downstairs, sitting with the door open.

"Hadn't we better shut the door?" said George; "it is rather cold."

"No, no, George; I shouldn't hear the baby."

"But Ellen is upstairs."

"Yes; but then she might go to sleep."

"My dear," began George, "I wish your father could be got to vote straight. You see that by not doing so he goes against all the principles of the Independents. Ever since they have been in existence they have always stood up for freedom, and we are having the large yellow flag worked with the words, Civil and Religious Liberty. It will be a bad thing for us if he holds aloof. I cannot understand," he continued, getting eloquent, "how a Dissenting minister can make up his mind not to vote against a party which has been answerable for all the oppression and all the wrongs in English history, and for all our useless wars, and actually persecuted his predecessors in this very meeting-house in which he now preaches.

Besides, to say nothing about the past, just look at what we have before us now. The Tories are the most bitter opponents of Free Trade. I can't tell you how I feel about it, and I do think that if you were to speak to your mother she would perhaps induce him to change his mind."

It was a long time since he had said so much all at once to his wife.

"George, George, I am sure he's awake!" and she was off out of the room in an instant. Presently she returned.

"Mamma came here this afternoon and brought his hood--a new one--such a lovely hood!--and she says he looks more than ever like a Flavel in it."

"I don't believe you listened to a word of what I was saying."

"Oh yes, I did; you always think I don't listen; but I can listen to you and watch for him too."

"What did I say?"

"Never mind, I know."

"I cannot understand," he said sullenly, and diverted for a moment from his subject, "why mamma should be always telling YOU he is a Flavel."

"Well, really, George, why shouldn't she? Tryphosa said the other day that if you were to take away grandpapa Flavel's wig and bands from the picture in the Evangelical Magazine he would be just like him."

"It seems to me," replied George, "that if there's any nonsense going about the town, it always comes to you. People don't talk such rubbish to me."

What the effect of this speech might have been cannot be told, for at this moment the baby did really cry, and Priscilla departed hastily for the night. She never spoke to her mother about the election, for, as George suspected, she had not paid the slightest attention to him; and as to exchanging with her mother a single word upon such a subject as politics, or upon any other subject which was in any way impersonal,--she never did such a thing in her life.

It was the uniform practice of the Reverend John Broad to walk down the main Street of Cowfold on Monday morning, and to interchange a few words with any of his congregation whom he might happen to meet.

This pastoral perambulation not only added importance to him, and made him a figure in Cowfold, but, coming always on Monday, served to give people some notion of a preoccupation during the other days of the week which was forbidden, for mental reasons, on the day after Sunday. On this particular Monday Mr. Broad was pa.s.sing Mr. Allen's shop, and seeing father and son there, went in. Mr. Allen himself was at a desk which stood near the window, and George was at the counter, in a black ap.r.o.n, weighing nails.

After an unimportant remark or two about the weather, Mr. Allen began in a cheery tone, so as to prevent offence:

"Mr. Broad, we are sorry we cannot persuade you to vote for the good cause."

Mr. Broad's large mouth lengthened itself, and his little eyes had an unpleasant light in them.

"Brother Allen, I have made this matter the subject of much meditation, and I may even say of prayer, and I have come to the conclusion it will be better for me to occupy a neutral position."

"Why, Mr. Broad? You cannot doubt on which side the right lies."

"No; but then there are so many things to be considered, so many responsibilities, and my first care, you see, must be the ministerial office and the church which Providence has placed in my charge."

"But, Mr. Broad, there are only two or three of them who are Tory."

"Only old Bushel and another farmer or two," interrupted George.

Mr. Broad looked severely at George, but did not condescend to answer him.

"Those two or three, Brother Allen, require consideration as much as ourselves. Brother Bushel is, I may say, a pillar of the cause, a most faithful follower of the Lord; and what are political questions compared with that? How could I justify myself if my liberty were to become a stumbling-block to my brother. The house of G.o.d without Brother Bushel to give out the hymns on Sunday would, I am sure, not be the same house of G.o.d to any of us."

"But, Mr. Broad, do you think he will be so silly as to be offended because you exercise the same right which he claims for himself?"

"Ah, Brother Allen--offended! You remember, no doubt, the text, 'Wherefore, if meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth.'"

It is a very good thing to have at one's elbow a Bible of rules for our guidance; but unfortunately we relieve ourselves very often of the most necessary inquiry whether the rule applies to the particular case in hand. Mr. Allen had the greatest possible respect for St.

Paul, but he felt sure the apostle was where he had no business to be just at that particular moment. George also saw the irrelevance of the quotation, and discerned exactly where it did not fit.

"Mr. Broad, I am sure I don't pretend to know what St. Paul thought as well as you do--of course not--but do you think that voting is like eating meat? Is it not a duty to express our convictions on such questions as those now before the country? It didn't much matter whether a man ate meat which had been offered to an idol or not, but it does matter how we are governed."

Mr. Broad turned round on George, and smiled with a smile which was certainly not a sign of affection, but otherwise did not notice him.

"Well, Mr. Broad," continued Mr. Allen, "all I can say is, I regret it; and I am sure you will excuse me if I also say that we too deserve some consideration. You forget that your refusal to declare yourself may be stumbling-block to US."

"I hope not, I hope not. George, how is Priscilla, and how is her child? Are they both quite well?" and with a pontifical benediction the minister moved away. When he got home he consulted the oracle; not on his knees, but sitting in his arm-chair; that is to say, Mrs.

Broad at the Monday afternoon tea, and she relieved his anxiety.

There was no fear of any secession on the part of the Allens, connected as they were with them through Priscilla. On the other hand, Brother Bushel, although he gave out the hymns, had already had a quarrel with the singing pew because they would not more frequently perform a tune with a solo for the double ba.s.s, which he always accompanied with his own ba.s.s voice, and Mr. Broad had found it difficult to restore peace; the flute and clarionet justly urging that they never had solos, and why the double ba.s.s, who only played from ear, and not half as many notes as they played, should be allowed to show off they didn't know. Mr. Bushel, too, contributed ten pounds a year to the cause, and Piddingfold Green Chapel was but a mile farther off from him than Cowfold. There were allies of the Allens in Tanner's Lane, no doubt; but none of them would be likely to desert so long as the Allens themselves remained. Therefore Providence seemed to point out to Mr. and Mrs. Broad that their course was clear.

CHAPTER XXIV--"I CAME NOT TO SEND PEACE, BUT A SWORD"

Mr. Allen, having business in London, determined to go on Sat.u.r.day, and spend the next day with Zachariah. Although he always called on his old friend whenever he could do so, he was not often away from home on a Sunday. He also resolved to take George with him.

Accordingly on Sat.u.r.day morning they were up early and caught a coach on the North Road. The coaches by this time had fallen off considerably, for the Birmingham railway was open, and there was even some talk of a branch through Cowfold; but there were still perhaps a dozen which ran to places a good way east of the line. Father and son dismounted at the "George and Blue Boar," where they were to sleep. Sunday was to be spent with the Colemans, whom George had seen before but very seldom; never, indeed, since he was a boy.

Zachariah still went to Pike Street Chapel, but only in the morning to hear Mr. Bradshaw, who was now an old man, and could not preach twice. On that particular Sunday on which Zachariah, Pauline, Mr.

Allen, and George heard him he took for his text the thirteenth verse of the twelfth chapter of Deuteronomy: "Take heed to thyself that thou offer not thy burnt offerings in every place thou seest." He put down his spectacles after he had read these words, for he never used a note, and said: "If your religion doesn't help you, it is no religion for you; you had better be without it. I don't mean if it doesn't help you to a knowledge of a future life or of the way to heaven. Everybody will say his religion does that. What I do mean is, that the sign of a true religion--true for YOU, is this--Does it a.s.sist you to bear your own private difficulties?--does it really?-- not the difficulties of the schools and theology, but those of the parlour and countinghouse; ay, difficulties most difficult, those with persons nearest to you? . . . Everybody ought to have his OWN religion. In one sense we are all disciples of Christ, but nevertheless each man has troubles peculiar to himself, and it is absurd to expect that any book system will be sufficient for each one of us at all points. You must make your own religion, and it is only what you make yourself which will be of any use to you. Don't be disturbed if you find it is not of much use to other persons. Stick to it yourself if it is really your own, a bit of yourself. There are, however, in the Book of G.o.d universal truths, and the wonderful thing about them is, that they are at the same time more particularly adapted to you and me and all our innermost wants than anything we can discover for ourselves. That is the miracle of inspiration. For thousands and thousands of years some of the sayings here have comforted those who have well nigh despaired in the desert of the world. The wisdom of millions of apostles, of heroes, of martyrs, of poor field labourers, of solitary widows, of orphans of the dest.i.tute, of men driven to their last extremity has been the wisdom of this volume--not their own, and yet most truly theirs. . . . Here is a word for us this morning: 'Take heed to thyself that thou offer not thy burnt offerings in every place thou seest.' Ah, what a word it is! You and I are not idolaters, and there is no danger of our being so. For you and me this is not a warning against idolatry.

What is it for us then? Reserve yourself; discriminate in your wors.h.i.+p. Reserve yourself, I say; but what is the implication? What says the next verse? 'In the place which the Lord shall choose;'

that is to say, keep your wors.h.i.+p for the Highest. Do not squander yourself, but, on the other hand, before the shrine of the Lord offer all your love and adoration. What a practical application this has!

. . I desire to come a little closer to you. What are the consequences of not obeying this Divine law? You will not be struck dead nor excommunicated, you will be simply DISAPPOINTED. Your burnt offering will receive no answer; you will not be blessed through it; you will come to see that you have been pouring forth your treasure, and something worse, your heart's blood--not the blood of cattle-- before that which is no G.o.d--a nothing, in fact. 'Vanity of vanities,' you will cry, 'all is vanity.' My young friends, young men and young women, you are particularly p.r.o.ne to go wrong in this matter. You not only lay your possessions but yourselves on altars by the roadside."

It was the first time George had ever heard anything from any public speaker which came home to him, and he wondered if Mr. Bradshaw knew his history. He interpreted the discourse after his own way, and Priscilla was ever before him.