# Marriage (Ferrier)/Chapter IV

". . . So the devil prevails often; opponit nubem, he claps cloud between; some little objection; a stranger is come; or my head aches; or the church is too cold; or I have letters to write; or I am not disposed; or it is not yet time; or the time is past; these, and such as these, are the clouds the devil claps between heaven and us; but these are such impotent objections, that they were as soon confuted, as pretended, by all men that are not fools, or professed enemies of religion." —JEREMY TAYLOR.
LADY Juliana had in vain endeavoured to obtain a sick certificate for her daughter, that would have authorised her consigning her to the oblivion of her own apartment. The physicians whom she consulted all agreed, for once, in recommending a totally different system to be pursued; and her displeasure, in consequence, was violently excited against the medical tribe in general, and Dr. Redgill in particular. For that worthy she had indeed always entertained a most thorough contempt and aversion; for he was poor, ugly, and vulgar, and these were the three most deadly sins in her calendar. The object of her detestation was, however, completely insensible to its effects. The Doctor, like Achilles, was vulnerable but in one part, and over that she could exercise no control. She had nothing to do with the ménage—possessed no influence over Lord Courtland, nor authority over Monsieur Grillade. She differed from himself as to the dressing of certain dishes; and, in short, he summed up her character in one emphatic sentence, that in his idea conveyed severer censure than all that Pope or Young ever wrote—" I don't think she has the taste of her mouth!"
Thus thwarted in her scheme, Lady Juliana's dislike to her daughter rather increased than diminished; and it was well for Mary that lessons of forbearance had been early infused into her mind; for her spirit was naturally high, and would have revolted from the tyranny and injustice with which she was treated had she not been taught the practical duties of Christianity, and that "patience, with all its appendages, is the sum total of all our duty that is proper to the day of sorrow."
Not that Mary sought, by a blind compliance with all her mother's follies and caprices, to ingratiate herself into her favour—even the motive she would have deemed insufficient to have sanctified the deed; and the only arts she employed to win a place in her parent's heart were ready obedience, unvarying sweetness, and uncomplaining submission.
Although Mary possessed none of the sour bigotry of a narrow mind, she was yet punctual in the discharge of her religious duties; and the Sunday following her arrival, as they sat at breakfast, she inquired of her cousin at what time the church service began.
"I really am not certain—I believe it is late," replied her cousin carelessly. "But why do you ask?'
"Because I wish to be there in proper time."
"But we scarcely ever go—never, indeed, to the parish church—and we are rather distant from any other; so you must say your prayers at home."
"I would certainly prefer going to church," said Mary.
"Going to church!" exclaimed Dr. Redgill in amazement. "I wonder what makes people so keen of going to church! I'm sure there's little good to be got there. For my part, I declare I would just as soon think of going into my grave. Take my word for it, churches and churchyards are rather too nearly related."
"In such a day as this," said Mary, "so dry and sunny, I am sure there can be no danger."
"Take your own way, Miss Mary," said the Doctor; "but I think it my duty to let you know my opinion of churches. I look upon them as extremely prejudicial to the health. They are invariably either too hot or too cold; you are either stewed or starved in them; and, till some improvement takes place, I assure you my foot shall never enter one of them. In fact, they are perfect receptacles of human infirmities. I can tell you one of your church-going ladies at a glance; they have all rheumatisms in their shoulders, and colds in their heads, and swelled faces. Besides it's a poor country church—there's nothing to be seen after you do go."
"I assure you Lady Juliana will be excessively annoyed if you go," said Lady Emily, as Mary rose to leave the room.
"Surely my mother cannot be displeased at my attending church!" said Mary in astonishment.
"Yes, she can, and most certainly will. She never goes herself now, since she had a quarrel with Dr. Barlow, the clergyman; and she can't bear any of the family to attend him."
"And you have my sanction for staying away, Miss Mary," added the Doctor.
"Is he a man of bad character?" asked Mary, as she stood irresolute whether to proceed.
"Quite the reverse. He is a very good man; but he was scandalised at Lady Juliana's bringing her dogs to church one day, and wrote her what she conceived a most insolent letter about it. But here come your lady-mamma and the culprits in question."
"Your Ladyship is just come in time to settle a dispute here," said the Doctor, anxious to turn her attention from a hot muffin, which had just been brought in, and which he meditated appropriating to himself: "I have said all I can—(Was you looking at the toast, Lady Emily?)—I must now leave it to your Ladyship to convince this young lady of the folly of going to church."
The Doctor gained his point. The muffin was upon his own plate, while Lady Juliana directed her angry look towards her daughter.
"Who talks of going to church?" demanded she.
Mary gently expressed her wish to be permitted to attend divine service.
"I won't permit it. I don't approve of girls going about by themselves. It is vastly improper, and I won't hear of it."
"It is the only place I shall ask to go to," said Mary timidly; "but I have always been accustomed to attend church, and—-"
"That is a sufficient reason for my choosing that you should not attend it here. I won't suffer a Methodist in the house."
"I assure you the Methodists are gaining ground very fast," said the Doctor, with his mouth full. 'Pon my soul, I think it's very alarming!"
"Pray, what is so alarming in the apprehension? asked Lady Emily.
"What is so alarming! 'Pon my honour, Lady Emily, I'm astonished to hear you ask such a question!"—muttering to himself, "zealots—fanatics— enthusiasts—bedlamites! I'm sure everybody knows what Methodists are!"
"There has been quite enough said upon the subject," said Lady Juliana.
"There are plenty of sermons in the house, Miss Mary," continued the Doctor, who, like many other people, thought he was always doing a meritorious action when he could dissuade anybody from going to church. "I saw a volume somewhere not long ago; and at any rate there's the Spectator, if you want Sunday's reading—some of the papers there are as good as any sermon you'll get from Dr. Barlow."
Mary, with fear and hesitation, made another attempt to overcome her mother's prejudice, but in vain.
"I desire I may hear no more about it!" cried she, raising her voice. "The clergyman is a most improper person. I won't suffer any of my family to attend his church; and therefore, once for all, I won't hear another syllable on the subject."
This was said in a tone and manner not to be disputed, and Mary felt her resolution give way before the displeasure of her mother. A contest of duties was new to her, and she could not all at once resolve upon fulfilling one duty at the expense of another. "Besides," thought she, "my mother thinks she is in the right. Perhaps, by degrees, I may bring her to think otherwise; and it is surely safer to try to conciliate than to determine to oppose."
But another Sabbath came, and Mary found she had made no progress in obtaining the desired permission. She therefore began seriously to commune with her own heart as to the course she ought to pursue.
The commandment of "Honour thy father and thy mother" had been deeply imprinted on her mind, and few possessed higher notions of filial reverence; but there was another precept which also came to her recollection. "Whosoever loveth father and mother more than me cannot be my disciple." "But I may honour and obey my parent without loving her more than my Saviour," argued she with herself, in hopes of lulling her conscience by this reflection. "But again," thought she, "the Scripture saith, 'He that keepeth my commandments, he it is that loveth me.'" Then she felt the necessity of owning that if she obeyed the commands of her mother, when in opposition to the will of her God, she gave one of the Scripture proofs of either loving or fearing her parent upon earth more than her Father which is in heaven. But Mary, eager to reconcile impossibilities—viz. the will of an ungodly parent with the holy commands of her Maker—thought now of another argument to calm her conscience. "The Scripture," said she, "says nothing positive about attending public worship; and, as Lady Emily says, I may say my prayers just as well at home." But the passages of Scripture were too deeply imprinted on her mind to admit of this subterfuge. "Forsake not the assembling of yourselves together." "Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there will I be in the midst of them," etc. etc. But alas! two or three never were gathered together at Beech Park, except upon parties of pleasure, games of hazard, or purposes of conviviality.
The result of Mary's deliberations was a firm determination to do what she deemed her duty, however painful. And she went in search of Lady Emily, hoping to prevail upon her to use her influence with Lady Juliana to grant the desired permission; or, should she fail in obtaining it, she trusted her resolution would continue strong enough to enable her have her mother's displeasure in this act of conscientious disobedience. She met her cousin, with her bonnet on, prepared to go out.
"Dear Lady Emily," said she, "let me entreat of you to use your influence with my mother to persuade her to allow me to go to church."
"In the first place," answered her cousin, "you may know that I have no influence;—in the second, that Lady Juliana is never to be persuaded into any thing;—in the third, I really can't suppose you are serious in thinking it a matter of such vast moment whether or not you go to church."
"Indeed I do," answered Mary earnestly. "I have been taught to consider it as such; and——"
"Pshaw! nonsense! these are some of your stiff-necked Presbyterian notions. I shall really begin to suspect you are a Methodist and yet you are not at all like one."
"Pray, tell me," said Mary, with a smile, "what are your ideas of a Methodist?"
"Oh! thank heaven, I know little about them!—almost as little as Dr. Redgill, who, I verily believe, could scarcely tell the difference betwixt a Catholic and a Methodist, except that the one dances and t'other prays. But I am rather inclined to believe it is a sort of a scowling, black-browed, hard-favoured creature, with its greasy hair combed straight upon its flat forehead, and that twirls its thumbs, and turns up its eyes, and speaks through its nose and, in short, is everything that you are not, except in this matter—of going to church. So, to avert all these evil signs from falling upon you, I shall make a point of your keeping company with me for the rest of the day."
Again Mary became serious, as she renewed her entreaties to her cousin to intercede with Lady Juliana that she might be allowed to attend any church.
"Not for kingdoms!" exclaimed she. "Her Ladyship is in one of her most detestable humours to-day; not that I should mind that, if it was anything of real consequence that I had to compass for you. A ball, for instance—I should certainly stand by you there but I am really not so fond of mischief as to enrage her for nothing!"
"Then I fear I must go to church without it," said Mary in a melancholy tone.
"If you are to go at all, it must certainly be without it. And here is the carriage—get your bonnet, and come along with me. You shall at least have a sight of the church."
Mary went to put on her pelisse; and, descending to join her cousin in the drawing-room, she found her engaged in an argument with Dr. Redgill. How it had commenced did not appear; but the Doctor's voice was raised as if to bring it to a decided termination.
"The French, madam, in spite of your prejudices, are a very superior nation to us. Their skill and knowledge are both infinitely higher. Every man in France is a first-rate cook—in fact, they are a nation of cooks; and one of our late travellers assures us that they have discovered three hundred methods of dressing eggs, for one thing."
"That is just two hundred and ninety-nine ways more than enough," said Lady Emily "give me a plain boiled egg, and I desire no other variety of the produce of a hen till it takes the form of a chicken."
Dr. Redgill lowered his eyebrows and drew up his chin, but disdained to waste more arguments upon so tasteless a being. "To talk sense to a woman is like feeding chickens upon turtle soup," thought he to himself.
As for Lady Juliana, she exulted in the wise and judicious manner in which she had exercised her authority, and felt her consequence greatly increased by a public display of it—power being an attributes he was very seldom invested with now. Indeed, to do her Ladyship justice, she was most feelingly alive to the duty due to parents, though that such a commandment existed seemed quite unknown to her till she became a mother. But she made ample amends for former deficiencies now; as to hear her expatiate on the subject, one would have deemed it the only duty necessary to be practised, either by Christian or heathen, and that, like charity, it comprehended every virtue, and was a covering for every sin. But there are many more sensible people than her Ladyship who entertain the same sentiments, and, by way of variety, reverse the time and place of their duties. When they are children, they make many judicious reflections on the duties of parents; when they become parents, they then acquire a wonderful insight into the duties of children. In the same manner husbands and wives are completely alive to the duties incumbent upon each other, and the most ignorant servant is fully instructed in the duty of a master. But we shall leave Lady Juliana to pass over the duties of parents, and ponder upon those of children, while we follow Lady Emily and Mary in their airing.
The road lay by the side of a river; and though Mary's taste had been formed upon the wild romantic scenery of the Highlands, she yet looked with pleasure on the tamer beauties of an English landscape. And though accustomed to admire even "rocks where the snowflake reposes;" she had also taste, though of a less enthusiastic kind, for the "gay landscapes and gardens of roses," which, in this more genial clime, bloomed even under winter's sway. The carriage drove smoothly along, and the sound of the church bell fell at intervals on the ear, "in cadence sweet, now dying all away;" and, at the holy sound, Mary's heart flew back to the peaceful vale and primitive kirk of Lochmarlie, where all her happy Sabbath had been spent. The view now opened upon the village church, beautifully situated on the slope of a green hill. Parties of straggling villagers in their holiday suits were descried in all directions, some already assembled in the churchyard, others traversing the neat footpaths that led through the meadows. But to Mary's eyes the well-dressed English rustic, trudging along the smooth path, was a far less picturesque object than the barefooted Highland girl, bounding over trackless heath-covered hills; and the well-preserved glossy blue coat seemed a poor substitute for the varied drapery of the graceful plaid.
So much do early associations tincture all our future ideas.
They had now reached the church, and as Mary adhered to her resolution of attending divine worship, Lady Emily declared her intention of accompanying her, that she might come in for her share of Lady Juliana's displeasure; but in spite of her levity, the reverend aspect, and meek, yet fervent piety of Dr. Barlow, impressed her with better feelings; and she joined in the service with outward decorum if not with inward devotion. The music consisted of an organ, simply but well played; and to Mary, unaccustomed to any sacred sounds save those twanged through the nose of a Highland precentor, it seemed the music of the spheres.
Far different sounds than those of peace and praise awaited her return. Lady Juliana, apprised of this open act of rebellion, was in all the paroxysms incident to a little mind on discovering the impotence of its power. She rejected all attempts at reconciliation; raved about ingratitude and disobedience; declared her determination of sending Mary back to her vulgar Scotch relations one moment—the next protested she should never see those odious Methodists again; then she was to take her to France, and shut her up in a convent, etc., till, after uttering all the incoherences usual with ladies in a passion, she at last succeeded in raving herself into a fit of hysterics.
Poor Mary was deeply affected at this (to her) tremendous display of passion. She who had always been used to the mild placidity of Mrs. Douglas, and who had seen her face sometimes clouded with sorrow, but never deformed by anger-what a spectacle! To behold a parent subject to the degrading influence of an ungovernable temper! Her very soul sickened at the sight; and while she wept over her mother's weakness, she prayed that the Power which stayed the ocean's wave would mercifully vouchsafe to still the wilder tempests of human passion.