The Romany Rye

by George Borrow

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE CHURCH--THE ARISTOCRATICAL PEW--DAYS OF YORE--THE CLERGYMAN--'IN WHATWOULD A MAN BE PROFITED?'

  When two days had passed, Sunday came; I breakfasted by myself in thesolitary dingle; and then, having set things a little to rights, Iascended to Mr. Petulengro's encampment. I could hear church-bellsringing around in the distance, appearing to say, 'Come to church, cometo church,' as clearly as it was possible for church-bells to say. Ifound Mr. Petulengro seated by the door of his tent, smoking his pipe, inrather an ungenteel undress. 'Well, Jasper,' said I, 'are you ready togo to church; for if you are, I am ready to accompany you?' 'I am notready, brother,' said Mr. Petulengro, 'nor is my wife; the church, too,to which we shall go is three miles off {52}; so it is of no use to thinkof going there this morning, as the service would be three-quarters overbefore we got there; if, however, you are disposed to go in theafternoon, we are your people.' Thereupon I returned to my dingle, whereI passed several hours in conning the Welsh Bible, which the preacher,Peter Williams, had given me.

  At last I gave over reading, took a slight refreshment, and was about toemerge from the dingle, when I heard the voice of Mr. Petulengro callingme. I went up again to the encampment, where I found Mr. Petulengro, hiswife, and Tawno Chikno, ready to proceed to church. Mr. and Mrs.Petulengro were dressed in Roman fashion, though not in the full-blownmanner in which they had paid their visit to Isopel and myself. Tawnohad on a clean white slop, with a nearly new black beaver, with verybroad rims, and the nap exceedingly long. As for myself, I was dressedin much the same manner as that in which I departed from London, havingon, in honour of the day, a shirt perfectly clean, having washed one onpurpose for the occasion, with my own hands, the day before, in the pondof tepid water in which the newts and efts were in the habit of takingtheir pleasure. We proceeded for upwards of a mile, by footpaths throughmeadows and corn-fields; we crossed various stiles; at last, passing overone, we found ourselves in a road, wending along which for a considerabledistance, we at last came in sight of a church, the bells of which hadbeen tolling distinctly in our ears for some time; before, however, wereached the church-yard the bells had ceased their melody. It wassurrounded by lofty beech-trees of brilliant green foliage. We enteredthe gate, Mrs. Petulengro leading the way, and proceeded to a small doornear the east end of the church. As we advanced, the sound of singingwithin the church rose upon our ears. Arrived at the small door, Mrs.Petulengro opened it and entered, followed by Tawno Chikno. I myselfwent last of all, following Mr. Petulengro, who, before I entered, turnedround, and, with a significant nod, advised me to take care how Ibehaved. The part of the church which we had entered was the chancel; onone side stood a number of venerable old men--probably the neighbouringpoor--and on the other a number of poor girls belonging to the villageschool, dressed in white gowns and straw bonnets, whom two elegant butsimply dressed young women were superintending. Every voice seemed to beunited in singing a certain anthem, which, notwithstanding it was writtenneither by Tate nor Brady, contains some of the sublimest words whichwere ever put together, not the worst of which are those which burst onour ears as we entered.

  'Every eye shall now behold Him, Robed in dreadful majesty; Those who set at nought and sold Him, Pierced and nailed Him to the tree, Deeply wailing, Shall the true Messiah see.'

  Still following Mrs. Petulengro, we proceeded down the chancel and alongthe aisle; notwithstanding the singing, I could distinctly hear as wepassed many a voice whispering, 'Here come the gypsies! here come thegypsies!' I felt rather embarrassed, with a somewhat awkward doubt as towhere we were to sit; none of the occupiers of the pews, who appeared toconsist almost entirely of farmers, with their wives, sons and daughters,opened a door to admit us. Mrs. Petulengro, however, appeared to feelnot the least embarrassment, but tripped along the aisle with thegreatest nonchalance. We passed under the pulpit, in which stood theclergyman in his white surplice, and reached the middle of the church,where we were confronted by the sexton dressed in long blue coat, andholding in his hand a wand. This functionary motioned towards the lowerend of the church, where were certain benches, partly occupied by poorpeople and boys. Mrs. Petulengro, however, with a toss of her head,directed her course to a magnificent pew, which was unoccupied, which sheopened and entered, followed closely by Tawno Chikno, Mr. Petulengro, andmyself. The sexton did not appear by any means to approve of thearrangement, and as I stood next the door laid his finger on my arm, asif to intimate that myself and companions must quit our aristocraticallocation. I said nothing, but directed my eyes to the clergyman, whouttered a short and expressive cough; the sexton looked at him for amoment, and then, bowing his head, closed the door--in a moment more themusic ceased. I took up a Prayer-book, on which was engraved an earl'scoronet. The clergyman uttered, 'I will arise and go to my father.'England's sublime liturgy had commenced.

  Oh what feelings came over me on finding myself again in an edificedevoted to the religion of my country. I had not been in such a place Icannot tell for how long--certainly not for years; and now I had found myway there again, it appeared as if I had fallen asleep in the pew of theold church of pretty D---. {54a} I had occasionally done so when achild, and had suddenly woke up. Yes, surely I had been asleep and hadwoken up; but, no! alas, no! I had not been asleep--at least not in theold church--if I had been asleep I had been walking in my sleep,struggling, striving, learning, and unlearning in my sleep. Years hadrolled away whilst I had been asleep--ripe fruit had fallen, green fruithad come on whilst I had been asleep--how circumstances had altered, andabove all myself, whilst I had been asleep. No, I had not been asleep inthe old church! I was in a pew it is true, but not the pew of blackleather, in which I sometimes fell asleep in days of yore, but in astrange pew; and then my companions, they were no longer those of days ofyore. I was no longer with my respectable father and mother, and my dearbrother, but with the gypsy cral {54b} and his wife, and the giganticTawno, the Antinous of the dusky people. And what was I myself? Nolonger an innocent child, but a moody man, bearing in my face, as I knewwell, the marks of my strivings and strugglings, of what I had learnt andunlearnt; nevertheless, the general aspect of things brought to my mindwhat I had felt and seen of yore. There was difference enough it istrue, but still there was a similarity--at least I thought so--thechurch, the clergyman, and the clerk, differing in many respects fromthose of pretty D---, put me strangely in mind of them; and then thewords!--by-the-by, was it not the magic of the words which brought thedear enchanting past so powerfully before the mind of Lavengro? for thewords were the same sonorous words of high import which had first made animpression on his childish ear in the old church of pretty D---.

  The liturgy was now over, during the reading of which my companionsbehaved in a most unexceptionable manner, sitting down and rising up whenother people sat down and rose, and holding in their hands Prayer-bookswhich they found in the pew, into which they stared intently, though Iobserved that, with the exception of Mrs. Petulengro, who knew how toread a little, they held the books by the top, and not the bottom, as isthe usual way. The clergyman now ascended the pulpit, arrayed in hisblack gown. The congregation composed themselves to attention, as didalso my companions, who fixed their eyes upon the clergyman with acertain strange immovable stare, which I believe to be peculiar to theirrace. The clergyman gave out his text, and began to preach. He was atall, gentlemanly man, seemingly between fifty and sixty, with greyishhair; his features were very handsome, but with a somewhat melancholycast: the tones of his voice were rich and noble, but also with somewhatof melancholy in them. The text which he gave out was the following one,'In what would a man be profited, provided he gained the whole world, andlost his own soul?'

  And on this text the clergyman preached long and well: he did not readhis sermon, but spoke it extempore; his doing so rather surprised andoffended me at first; I was not used to such a style of preaching in achurch devoted to the religion of my c
ountry. I compared it within mymind with the style of preaching used by the high-church rector in theold church of pretty D---, and I thought to myself it was very different,and being very different I did not like it, and I thought to myself howscandalized the people of D--- would have been had they heard it, and Ifigured to myself how indignant the high-church clerk would have been hadany clergyman got up in the church of D--- and preached in such a manner.Did it not savour strongly of dissent, methodism, and similar low stuff?Surely it did; why the Methodist I had heard preach on the heath abovethe old city, preached in the same manner--at least he preachedextempore; ay, and something like the present clergyman, for theMethodist spoke very zealously and with great feeling, and so did thepresent clergyman; so I, of course, felt rather offended with theclergyman for speaking with zeal and feeling. However, long before thesermon was over I forgot the offence which I had taken, and listened tothe sermon with much admiration, for the eloquence and powerful reasoningwith which it abounded.

  Oh how eloquent he was when he talked of the inestimable value of a man'ssoul, which he said endured for ever, whilst his body, as everyone knew,lasted at most for a very contemptible period of time; and how forciblyhe reasoned on the folly of a man, who, for the sake of gaining the wholeworld--a thing, he said, which provided he gained he could only possessfor a part of the time, during which his perishable body existed--shouldlose his soul, that is, cause that precious deathless portion of him tosuffer indescribable misery time without end.

  There was one part of his sermon which struck me in a very particularmanner, he said: 'That there were some people who gained something inreturn for their souls; if they did not get the whole world, they got apart of it--lands, wealth, honour, or renown; mere trifles, he allowed,in comparison with the value of a man's soul, which is destined either toenjoy delight, or suffer tribulation time without end; but which, in theeyes of the worldly, had a certain value, and which afforded a certainpleasure and satisfaction. But there were also others who lost theirsouls and got nothing for them--neither lands, wealth, renown, norconsideration, who were poor outcasts, and despised by everybody. Myfriends,' he added, 'if the man is a fool who barters his soul for thewhole world, what a fool he must be who barters his soul for nothing.'

  The eyes of the clergyman, as he uttered these words, wandered around thewhole congregation, and when he had concluded them, the eyes of the wholecongregation were turned upon my companions and myself.