textfiles/etext/AUTHORS/IRVING/irving-country-574.txt

                                    1819-20

                                THE SKETCH BOOK

                               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 than
an English country church. I was once passing a few weeks at the
seat of a friend, who resided in the vicinity of one, the appearance
of which particularly struck my fancy. It was one of those rich
morsels of quaint antiquity which give such a peculiar charm to
English landscape. It stood in the midst of a country filled with
ancient families, and contained, within its cold and silent aisles,
the congregated dust of many noble generations. The interior walls
were incrusted with monuments of every age and style. The light
streamed through windows dimmed with armorial bearings, richly
emblazoned in stained glass. In various parts of the church were tombs
of knights, and high-born dames, of gorgeous workmanship, with their
effigies in colored marble. On every side the eye was struck with some
instance of aspiring mortality; some haughty memorial which human
pride had erected over its kindred dust, in this temple of the most
humble of all religions.

  The congregation was composed of the neighboring people of rank, who
sat in pews, sumptuously lined and cushioned, furnished with
richly-gilded prayer-books, and decorated with their arms upon the pew
doors; 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 a
snug dwelling near the church. He was a privileged guest at all the
tables of the neighborhood, and had been the keenest fox-hunter in the
country; until age and good living had disabled him from doing any
thing more than ride to see the hounds throw off, and make one at
the hunting dinner.

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

  I was as yet a stranger in England, and curious to notice the
manners of its fashionable classes. I found, as usual, that there
was the least pretension where there was the most acknowledged title
to respect. I was particularly struck, for instance, with the family
of a nobleman of high rank, consisting of several sons and
daughters. Nothing could be more simple and unassuming than their
appearance, They generally came to church in the plainest equipage,
and often on foot. The young ladies would stop and converse in the
kindest manner with the peasantry, caress the children, and listen
to the stories of the humble cottagers. Their countenances were open
and beautifully fair, with an expression of high refinement, but, at
the same time, a frank cheerfulness, and an engaging affability. Their
brothers were tall, and elegantly formed. They were dressed
fashionably, but simply; with strict neatness and propriety, but
without any mannerism or foppishness. Their whole demeanor was easy
and natural, with that lofty grace, and noble frankness, which bespeak
freeborn souls that have never been checked in their growth by
feelings of inferiority. There is a healthful hardiness about real
dignity, that never dreads contact and communion with others,
however humble. It is only spurious pride that is morbid and
sensitive, and shrinks from every touch. I was pleased to see the
manner in which they would converse with the peasantry about those
rural concerns and field-sports, in which the gentlemen of this
country so much delight. In these conversations there was neither
haughtiness on the one part, nor servility on the other; and you
were only reminded of the difference of rank by the. habitual
respect of the peasant.

  In contrast to these was the family of a wealthy citizen, who had
amassed a vast fortune; and, having purchased the estate and mansion
of a ruined nobleman in the neighborhood, was endeavoring to assume
all the style and dignity of an hereditary lord of the soil. The
family always came to church en prince. They were rolled
majestically along in a carriage emblazoned with arms. The crest
glittered in silver radiance from every part of the harness where a
crest could possibly be placed. A fat coachman, in a three-cornered
hat, richly laced, and a flaxen wig, curling close round his rosy
face, was seated on the box, with a sleek Danish dog beside him. Two
footmen, in gorgeous liveries, with huge bouquets, and gold-headed
canes, lolled behind. The carriage rose and sunk on its long springs
with peculiar stateliness of motion. The very horses champed their
bits, arched their necks, and glanced their eyes more proudly than
common horses; either because they had caught a little of the family
feeling, or were reined up more tightly than ordinary.

  I could not but admire the style with which this splendid pageant
was brought up to the gate of the church-yard. There was a vast effect
produced at the turning of an angle of the wall;- a great smacking
of the whip, straining and scrambling of horses, glistening of
harness, and flashing of wheels through gravel. This was the moment of
triumph and vainglory to the coachman. The horses were urged and
checked until they were fretted into a foam. They threw out their feet
in a prancing trot, dashing about pebbles at every step. The crowd
of villagers sauntering quietly to church, opened precipitately to the
right and left, gaping in vacant admiration. On reaching the gate, the
horses were pulled up with a suddenness that produced an immediate
stop, and almost threw them on their haunches.

  There was an extraordinary hurry of the footman to alight, pull down
the steps, and prepare every thing for the descent on earth of this
august family. The old citizen first emerged his round red face from
out the door, looking about him with the pompous air of a man
accustomed to rule on 'Change, and shake the Stock Market with a
nod. His consort, a fine, fleshy, comfortable dame, followed him.
There seemed, I must confess, but little pride in her composition. She
was the picture of broad, honest, vulgar enjoyment. The world went
well with her; and she liked the world. She had fine clothes, a fine
house, a fine carriage, fine children, every thing was fine about her:
it was nothing but driving about, and visiting and feasting. Life
was to her a perpetual revel; it was one long Lord Mayor's day.

  Two daughters succeeded to this goodly couple. They certainly were
handsome; but had a supercilious air, that chilled admiration, and
disposed the spectator to be critical. They were ultra-fashionable
in dress; and, though no one could deny the richness of their
decorations, yet their appropriateness might be questioned amidst
the simplicity of a country church. They descended loftily from the
carriage, and moved up the line of peasantry with a step that seemed
dainty of the soil it trod on. They cast an excursive glance around,
that passed coldly over the burly faces of the peasantry, until they
met the eyes of the nobleman's family, when their countenances
immediately brightened into smiles, and they made the most profound
and elegant courtesies, which were returned in a manner that showed
they were but slight acquaintances.

  I must not forget the two sons of this aspiring citizen, who came to
church in a dashing curricle, with outriders. They were arrayed in the
extremity of the mode, with all that pedantry of dress which marks the
man of questionable pretensions to style. They kept entirely by
themselves, eyeing every one askance that came near them, as if
measuring his claims to respectability; yet they were without
conversation, except the exchange of an occasional cant phrase. They
even moved artificially; for their bodies, in compliance with the
caprice of the day, had been disciplined into the absence of all
ease and freedom. Art had done every thing to accomplish them as men
of fashion, but nature had denied them the nameless grace. They were
vulgarly shaped, like men formed for the common purposes of life,
and had that air of supercilious assumption which is never seen in the
true gentleman.

  I have been rather minute in drawing the pictures of these two
families, because I considered them specimens of what is often to be
met with in this country- the unpretending great, and the arrogant
little. I have no respect for titled rank, unless it be accompanied
with true nobility of soul; but I have remarked in all countries where
artificial distinctions exist, that the very highest classes are
always the most courteous and unassuming. Those who are well assured
of their own standing are least apt to trespass on that of others;
whereas nothing is so offensive as the aspirings of vulgarity, which
thinks to elevate itself by humiliating its neighbor.

  As I have brought these families into contrast, I must notice
their behavior in church. That of the nobleman's family was quiet,
serious, and attentive. Not that they appeared to have any fervor of
devotion, but rather a respect for sacred things, and sacred places,
inseparable from good breeding. The others, on the contrary, were in a
perpetual flutter and whisper; they betrayed a continual consciousness
of finery, and a sorry ambition of being the wonders of a rural
congregation.

  The old gentleman was the only one really attentive to the
service. He took the whole burden of family devotion upon himself,
standing bolt upright, and uttering the responses with a loud voice
that might be heard all over the church. It was evident that he was
one of those thorough church and king men, who connect the idea of
devotion and loyalty; who consider the Deity, somehow or other, of the
government party, and religion "a very excellent sort of thing, that
ought to be countenanced and kept up."

  When he joined so loudly in the service, it seemed more by way of
example to the lower orders, to show them that, though so great and
wealthy, he was not above being religious; as I have seen a turtle-fed
alderman swallow publicly a basin of charity soup, smacking his lips
at every mouthful, and pronouncing it "excellent food for the poor."

  When the service was at an end, I was curious to witness the several
exits of my groups. The young noblemen and their sisters, as the day
was fine, preferred strolling home across the fields, chatting with
the country people as they went. The others departed as they came,
in grand parade. Again were the equipages wheeled up to the gate.
There was again the smacking of whips, the clattering of hoofs, and
the glittering of harness. The horses started off almost at a bound;
the villagers again hurried to right and left; the wheels threw up a
cloud of dust; and the aspiring family was rapt out of sight in a
whirlwind.

                        THE END
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