Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated) (438 page)

“Aw’ve getten the varry best” replied Robert, lugging out an old black greasy volume — “Its the Selection used amang the Primitive Methodists — commomly termed Ranters — Owd John Wesla’s nought to it — It warms folk till the divil could’nt tak’ ’em.”

“Damn it! That’s the true Nightingale! But Fanny my girl fetch me another glass — and then we’ll silence the Angels. Bob — This life will never do — I have a Soul to be saved — ”

“Sure — sure Maister”

“And — Damn me if I won’t save it’”

“The Lord be praised — Yaw’re in a gooid way Maister!”

“Well then — pitch the Key note — thats it — I’ll take the tenor —

“Will you go to Glory with me &c &c”

The effect of the ensuing duet was most farcical were it not blasphemous. The beautiful tenor of Mr Percy united in all possible earnestness with a voice that tortured ones ears like that of a mad Jack ass, and, as is usual with the sect from whose book the words were selected, to a tune which might be fitly accompanied by the dance of a ‘hen on a het girdle[sic]’.

The poor young chambermaid stood sincerely pitying ‘the nice mad gentleman’ but utterly unable to repress a feminine titter. But a much deeper and more masculine chuckle could be heard ere the door opened to introduce Hector Matthias Mireabeau Montmorency, Esqre — whose perfect knowledge of his friends character had made him — on hearing from his bedroom the melodious twang — arise, don his garments, and straight proceed to perfect the work of godliness —

“Now then my heroes!” thundered the Barrister “Which is to fly fastest
 
toward Heaven — Master or man? You want a good bass and as I flatter myself I possess such an article, while I am sure, from your chambermaids pretty mouth she has a sweet treble — we’ll make up four parts, and walk up faster than Enoch or Elijah — I am a Calvinist and believe Jerry and Quashia and O’ Connor and Gordon were predestined to the fire grate so I wont call them in to join us.”

“Oh, but Hector, I am not a Calvinist I am as good a Wesleyan as was ever hatched — and I insist that all
shall
be saved — Storming heavens gate is the duty of a Christian soldier — I am a new born child Hector — Fanny just reach me the tumbler — and I’ll be — ” Here the speakers voice was drowned by a violent fit of coughing in consequence of too strong a draught of the spirits — at last he gained his breath to ask —

“Fanny — have they never a room in the house into which one could put a few forms and a pulpit during the fair time?”

“Yes Sir — Master has a large room up stairs, but the players are using it now”

“The players be damned — stop. damn me if I will swear again — I’ll rent it and fit up a pulpit by G — d.”

“The loard be praised said Robert, who was steadying himself against the bed post — and “Amen” groaned Hector — who was taking the sweetest pinch of snuff he had ever enjoyed. The groom, by virtue of his superior age and the advanced state of his religious experience thought proper to break in on the conversation of his Master and the Barrister by recommending that they should go to prayer.

“And donnot pray like frightened folk” said Bob “pray wi’ a real thundering roar — pray till ye’re legs kick aat like a stallion’s — There’s nought but muckment in ye’re church prayers — Aw wad not dry my nose wi’ ’em! If Heaven’s grace will not come yaw mun
mak
’ it come!”

I shall not give the report of Mr Robert Patrick King’s prayer as though too true to nature, and to what I have often heard in Yorkshire and Lancashire — it would be very justly pronounced impious by all not intimately aquainted with the lengths to which a brutal character and an impudent hypocrisy like that which the excellent groom possessed, can carry the most notorious scoundrels through all the deliria of ‘revivals’ and ‘experiences’.

Mr Percy lay, ejaculating between the pauses of his spiritual physician — such sentences as “Holy Melchizedec, Nebuchadnezzar and Batholomew look down upon us!” “Belshazzar, Jeroboam and Abihu, save us!” and when Hector remarked mildly “My Lad such invocations are neither Jew or Gentile — Catholic or protestant” He replied “Well I mean all for the best — Sweet Saint Bathsheba — dear Jezebel — divine Herodias have mercy on us!” — There Mr King fairly stopped in horror and amazement —

“Oh Loard! Maister — yaw’re noan calling on them whores are ye? — Nay naw aw mun strip me coil to me wark and link at it in me shirt sleeves!”

“Well Bob it is not a sin to pray to Angels then — so — Merciful Moloch — blessed Belial — beneficent Beelzebub do have — ”

“Stop Maister — They
war
angels once, but they’ve fallen like cracked pots, or a brocken kneed horse — Yaw mun look aboon Maister; same as aw do!”

The morning service had not proceeded much further, and Hector was just preparing to administer pedestrian admonition to the hinder man of the kneeling groom, when in burst Simpson Quamina and O’ Connor —

“By Gom!” thundered Jeremiah in his deepest voice “Are we going to have a case of Delirium tremens here? By Gom — rise you fool”

“This” remarked Arthur “This is just the practical part of what I went through after my famous Fortnight where in I killed young Phillpot — He went off with a red hot poker in his bowels one Friday, after his thirty ninth tumbler — I had three Methodist missionaries at Kingston to pray for me that week — and it was all owing to new rum. It
could
be nothing else, for if it had been real old Jamaica he would have yet been sweet as a daisy.”

“Well” said Quamina “You Christian dogs do pay dearly for your whistle — who ever heard any of the faithful ranting and raving thus? Allah be praised — I am a Moslem skin and bone, and I’d be damned before I’d taste one drop of your infidel wine! Praised be the name of the prophet! I’m glad he knew nothing of Brandy and Whiskey! If He had done I doubt I should have found Houri’s rather scarce hereafter!”

“Quashia Quamina” said Percy sternly “If you do not put off the old man I’ll make you as much a cinder as you seem to be! That Bull baiting stake shall not have been standing so long in the towngate for nothing! Fanny my lass — tell the waiter to order — Coffee, Ham, Eggs — and Brandy for one — and lay a Bible beside the tray open at the Xth chapter of Nehemiah — you may as well also double it down at the Ist chapter of Ist Chronicles — I’ll have prayers this morning or else I’ll be — “I’ll comment on Nehemiah from the Ist to the th verses — I’ll let you know the
word
!”

All the bed chamber audience now left the room except the
devout
groom and the
faithful
friend, Hector, who said

“Now — Percy how long is this blasted foolery to continue — for I fancy you have other fish to fry?”

“Hector, if you do not leave this room and let me find you on my descent into the breakfast room, prone on your knees may you get ere night what you will be sure to get ere the Lords last day!”

Mr Montmorency shut the door, saying, ere he left that he hoped there was plenty of Hollands distributed at Love feasts, and Mr Percy with the aid of his devout groom and a snatch now and then from one of the songs of Zion managed to complete his morning toilette — which was not this morning the garb of a grouse shooting Squire — but very unexceptionable and clerical black. He sported a white cravat with a precise tie, and as his groom said on adjusting his masters crock coat — he “at last looked dacent and menseful — ”

When the “Rev” Alexander Percy entered the breakfast room in his hotel he was greeted by the irrepressible laughter of his companions, but not all their mirth or raillery could disturb the rapt inspiration of his divine countenance. Addressing himself to the waiter, who, owing to confusion of mind consequent on the metamorphosis of the strange gentleman, was only prevented by Hector from misplacing everything. He said —

“Have you here any resident teachers of the Gospel?”

“No Sir — Yes Sir — Theres Mr Scarlet the Curate — a capital judge of horse flesh Sir — and the Rev Matthew Rasper — poor old Gentleman — he weighs st now and can scarce go to cover — but he loves to see a throw off. Boots will take you there Sir, any time. He has as good a drop of wine in his cellars Sir as we have — and the Dean says ours is not to be beaten at the Bishops — and I am sure the Dean is a judge Sir”

The company pricked up their ears at this intelligence — Quashia swore he loved the cloth for it was his own colour — O’ Connor asked had Mr Rasper never a pretty daughter or so, for his soul warmed toward the family — but Mr Percy sternly ordered silence and continued —

“Waiter jest not on things pertaining to Salvation — Are there here any of the Lords labourers in the Wesleyan or Primitive Methodist vineyards”

“The Waiter looked at his napkin — settled his stock and timidly answered

“Lord Reynard has some gardeners Sir, but I believe they are not
 
methodists, for the head gardener broke anothers head last week for selling off peaches — besides his lordship lives eight miles off Sir.”

“Unrepentant Sinner — send for your Wesleyan preacher — and tell him to bring a brace of class leaders along with him”

As the waiter left the room scratching his head and sighing deeply Mr Percy took his place at the head of the table and intimated to the company that he should expect every man to off the moor and down at the Hotel by five in the afternoon, for the lord had work for them — For himself he should not touch a trigger as his vocation was to save souls.

“I always thought” said Hector who alone seemed thouroughly to comprehend his dear friends humour — “I always had an idea that the black coat carries it with the lasses over the red or green — Well I’ll make one — and now you dogs when your luncheon is ready on the heather see if I don’ t treat you to a grace as long as O’ Connors face has become at the mention of it”

“Well” Sighed Arthur — turning to Quamina “There is nothing for it but to get drunk to day — trouble is pressing hard on us!”

“I am for a row and a fight in the fair this evening Arthur — nothing else will unburthen my mind.”

“Gentlemen” said Percy — “You will do no such thing — The lord hath need of you. Hector I rely on you to follow out the good work.”

As the Waiter, on reaching the preacher door had said that the famous “RICH” gentleman staying at their house wished to see him my readers will not wonder that the saintly man knocked over his breakfast table — forgot the ham and eggs that were trembling under his ruthless knife, and in a whirl of calculations about the Chapel debt — quarterly subscriptions — Donations to a dozen different funds — visions of a new school such as should cut the national one to ribbons. The founders name “A. PERCY. ESQr” — on a vast marble tablet with the “Revd Simon Slugg Preacher of the Gospel” and all the Chapel trustees sheltering modestly under the aristocratic wing, beneath — that in such a state of unworldly extasy he broke both shins over the sheep pens and recieved martyrdom from three horse Jobbers whips ere he had roused up his two principal class leaders Messrs Apollos Fleshbotham, and Timothy Bottomley.

Those chosen vessels being rigid Teatotallers and knowing that when recieved gratis creature comforts were never refused by their beloved brother, were at first alarmed lest some hospitable brother or more probably sister, had tempted the lords servant over night — but when wiping his perspiring brow, the Rev Simon gasped out that the “RICH” gentleman at the Thurston Arms wanted them — they too caught a wild infection and each dashing his hat over his brows with the back run in front they burst through gathering the crowd of long and short horns — stopped not to rebuke the glaring lies which were bursting from
 
each dealers lips, and soon made their appearance before the bar of the Thurtson Arms. Once only Bottomley asked Fleshbotham “Whats our Chapel debt?”

“£=s= /”

“Oh nonsense” — said Slugg “Say at once — Its the lords work!”

Messrs Fleshbotham and Bottomley were beauties of the order combining that interesting union of darkness and pallor so assiduously cultivated by those that prefer the straight and narrow path. If their necks were not swanlike they yet stretched several inches above their carelessly tied white neckcloths and so far as stature may become a man, and flexibility be termed a constituent of grace, their lanky figures and loose jointed limbs proclaimed them to be model Apollos. Their Rev brother, though a few inches beneath the heroic standard, made amends by capacity of body for all he might be deficient in as to height and though his face looked like a pale “whangby” cheese, yet it was juicy enough to cause it to shine like the full moon through a fog.