第73章 THE SKETCH BOOK(1)

THE COUNTRY CHURCH

by Washington Irving

A gentleman!

What, o'the woolpack? or the sugar-chest?

Or lists of velvet? which is't, pound, or yard,You vend your gentry by?

BEGGAR'S BUSH.

THERE are few places more favorable to the study of character thanan English country church. I was once passing a few weeks at theseat of a friend, who resided in the vicinity of one, the appearanceof which particularly struck my fancy. It was one of those richmorsels of quaint antiquity which give such a peculiar charm toEnglish landscape. It stood in the midst of a country filled withancient families, and contained, within its cold and silent aisles,the congregated dust of many noble generations. The interior wallswere incrusted with monuments of every age and style. The lightstreamed through windows dimmed with armorial bearings, richlyemblazoned in stained glass. In various parts of the church were tombsof knights, and high-born dames, of gorgeous workmanship, with theireffigies in colored marble. On every side the eye was struck with someinstance of aspiring mortality; some haughty memorial which humanpride had erected over its kindred dust, in this temple of the mosthumble of all religions.

The congregation was composed of the neighboring people of rank, whosat in pews, sumptuously lined and cushioned, furnished withrichly-gilded prayer-books, and decorated with their arms upon the pewdoors; of the villagers and peasantry, who filled the back seats,and a small gallery beside the organ; and of the poor of the parish,who were ranged on benches in the aisles.

The service was performed by a snuffling well-fed vicar, who had asnug dwelling near the church. He was a privileged guest at all thetables of the neighborhood, and had been the keenest fox-hunter in thecountry; until age and good living had disabled him from doing anything more than ride to see the hounds throw off, and make one atthe hunting dinner.

Under the ministry of such a pastor, I found it impossible to getinto the train of thought suitable to the time and place: so,having, like many other feeble Christians, compromised with myconscience, by laying the sin of my own delinquency at anotherperson's threshold, I occupied myself by making observations on myneighbors.

I was as yet a stranger in England, and curious to notice themanners of its fashionable classes. I found, as usual, that therewas the least pretension where there was the most acknowledged titleto respect. I was particularly struck, for instance, with the familyof a nobleman of high rank, consisting of several sons anddaughters. Nothing could be more simple and unassuming than theirappearance, They generally came to church in the plainest equipage,and often on foot. The young ladies would stop and converse in thekindest manner with the peasantry, caress the children, and listento the stories of the humble cottagers. Their countenances were openand beautifully fair, with an expression of high refinement, but, atthe same time, a frank cheerfulness, and an engaging affability. Theirbrothers were tall, and elegantly formed. They were dressedfashionably, but simply; with strict neatness and propriety, butwithout any mannerism or foppishness. Their whole demeanor was easyand natural, with that lofty grace, and noble frankness, which bespeakfreeborn souls that have never been checked in their growth byfeelings of inferiority. There is a healthful hardiness about realdignity, that never dreads contact and communion with others,however humble. It is only spurious pride that is morbid andsensitive, and shrinks from every touch. I was pleased to see themanner in which they would converse with the peasantry about thoserural concerns and field-sports, in which the gentlemen of thiscountry so much delight. In these conversations there was neitherhaughtiness on the one part, nor servility on the other; and youwere only reminded of the difference of rank by the. habitualrespect of the peasant.

In contrast to these was the family of a wealthy citizen, who hadamassed a vast fortune; and, having purchased the estate and mansionof a ruined nobleman in the neighborhood, was endeavoring to assumeall the style and dignity of an hereditary lord of the soil. Thefamily always came to church en prince. They were rolledmajestically along in a carriage emblazoned with arms. The crestglittered in silver radiance from every part of the harness where acrest could possibly be placed. A fat coachman, in a three-corneredhat, richly laced, and a flaxen wig, curling close round his rosyface, was seated on the box, with a sleek Danish dog beside him. Twofootmen, in gorgeous liveries, with huge bouquets, and gold-headedcanes, lolled behind. The carriage rose and sunk on its long springswith peculiar stateliness of motion. The very horses champed theirbits, arched their necks, and glanced their eyes more proudly thancommon horses; either because they had caught a little of the familyfeeling, or were reined up more tightly than ordinary.