Felix Holt, the Radical

by George Eliot

  CHAPTER IV.

  "A pious and painful preacher."--FULLER.

  Mr. Lyon lived in a small house, not quite so good as the parishclerk's, adjoining the entry which led to the Chapel Yard. The newprosperity of Dissent at Treby had led to an enlargement of the chapel,which absorbed all extra funds and left none for the enlargement of theminister's income. He sat this morning, as usual, in a low up-stairsroom, called his study, which, by means of a closet capable of holdinghis bed, served also as a sleeping-room. The bookshelves did not sufficefor his store of old books, which lay about him in piles so arranged asto leave narrow lanes between them; for the minister was much given towalking about during his hours of meditation, and very narrow passageswould serve for his small legs, unencumbered by any other drapery thanhis black silk stockings and the flexible, though prominent, bows ofblack ribbon that tied his knee-breeches. He was walking about now, withhis hands clasped behind him, an attitude in which his body seemed tobear about the same proportion to his head as the lower part of a stoneHermes bears to the carven image that crowns it. His face looked old andworn, yet the curtain of hair that fell from his bald crown and hungabout his neck retained much of its original auburn tint, and his large,brown, short-sighted eyes were still clear and bright. At the firstglance, every one thought him a very odd-looking rusty old man; thefree-school boys often hooted after him, and called him "Revelations";and to many respectable Church people, old Lyon's little legs and largehead seemed to make Dissent additionally preposterous. But he was tooshort-sighted to notice those who tittered at him--too absent from theworld of small facts and petty impulses in which titterers live. WithSatan to argue against on matters of vital experience as well as ofchurch government, with great texts to meditate on, which seemed to getdeeper as he tried to fathom them, it had never occurred to him toreflect what sort of image his small person made on the retina of alight-minded beholder. The good Rufus had his ire and his egoism; butthey existed only as the red heat which gave force to his belief and histeaching. He was susceptible concerning the true office of deacons inthe primitive Church, and his small nervous body was jarred from head tofoot by the concussion of an argument to which he saw no answer. Infact, the only moments when he could be said to be really conscious ofhis body, were when he trembled under the pressure of some agitatingthought.

  He was meditating on the text for his Sunday morning sermon, "And allthe people said, Amen"--a mere mustard-seed of a text, which had splitat first only into two divisions, "What was said," and "Who said it";but these were growing into a many-branched discourse, and thepreacher's eyes dilated, and a smile played about his mouth till, as hismanner was, when he felt happily inspired, he had begun to utter histhoughts aloud in the varied measure and cadence habitual to him,changing from a rapid but distinct undertone to a loud emphatic_rallentando_.

  "My brethren, do you think that great shout was raised in Israel by eachman's waiting to say 'amen' till his neighbors had said amen? Do youthink there will be a great shout for the right--the shout of a nationas of one man, rounded and whole, like the voice of the archangel thatbound together all the listeners of earth and heaven--if every Christianof you peeps round to see what his neighbors in good coats are doing, orelse puts his hat before his face that he may shout and never be heard?But this is what you do: when the servant of God stands up to deliverhis message, do you lay your souls beneath the Word as you set out yourplants beneath the falling rain? No; one of you sends his eyes to allcorners, he smothers his soul with small questions, 'What does brotherY. think?' 'Is this doctrine high enough for brother Z.?' 'Will thechurch members be pleased?' And another----"

  Here the door was opened, and old Lyddy, the minister's servant, put inher head to say, in a tone of despondency, finishing with a groan, "Hereis Mrs. Holt wanting to speak to you; she says she comes out of season,but she's in trouble."

  "Lyddy," said Mr. Lyon, falling at once into a quiet conversationaltone, "if you are wrestling with the enemy, let me refer you to Ezekielthe thirteenth and twenty-second, and beg of you not to groan. It is astumbling-block and offence to my daughter; she would take no brothyesterday, because she said you had cried into it. Thus you cause thetruth to be lightly spoken of, and make the enemy rejoice. If yourfaceache gives him an advantage, take a little warm ale with yourmeat--I do not grudge the money."

  "If I thought my drinking warm ale would hinder poor dear Miss Estherfrom speaking light--but she hates the smell of it."

  "Answer not again, Lyddy, but send up Mistress Holt to me."

  Lyddy closed the door immediately.

  "I lack grace to deal with these weak sisters," said the minister, againthinking aloud, and walking. "Their needs lie too much out of the trackof my meditations, and take me often unawares. Mistress Holt is anotherwho darkens counsel by words without knowledge, and angers the reason ofthe natural man. Lord, give me patience. My sins were heavier to bearthan this woman's folly. Come in, Mrs. Holt--come in."

  He hastened to disencumber a chair of Matthew Henry's Commentary, andbegged his visitor to be seated. She was a tall elderly woman, dressedin black, with a light-brown front and a black band over her forehead.She moved the chair a little and seated herself in it with someemphasis, looking fixedly at the opposite wall with a hurt andargumentative expression. Mr. Lyon had placed himself in the chairagainst his desk, and waited with the resolute resignation of a patientwho is about to undergo an operation. But his visitor did not speak.

  "You have something on your mind, Mrs. Holt?" he said, at last.

  "Indeed I have, sir, else I shouldn't be here."

  "Speak freely."

  "It's well known to you, Mr. Lyon, that my husband, Mr. Holt, came fromthe north, and was a member in Malthouse Yard long before _you_ beganto be pastor of it, which was seven year ago last Michaelmas. It's thetruth, Mr. Lyon, and I'm not that woman to sit here and say it if itwasn't true."

  "Certainly, it is true."

  "And if my husband had been alive when you'd come to preach upon trial,he'd have been as good a judge of your gifts as Mr. Nuttwood or Mr.Muscat, though whether he'd have agreed with some that your doctrinewasn't high enough, I can't say. For myself, I've my opinion about highdoctrine."

  "Was it my preaching you came to speak about?" said the minister,hurrying in the question.

  "No, Mr. Lyon, I'm not that woman. But this I _will_ say, for my husbanddied before your time, that he had a wonderful gift in prayer, as theold members well know, if anybody likes to ask 'em, not believing mywords, and he believed himself that the receipt for the Cancer Cure,which I've sent out in bottles till this very last April beforeSeptember as now is, and have bottles standing by me--he believed it wassent to him in answer to prayer; and nobody can deny it, for he prayedmost regular, and read out of the green baize Bible."

  Mrs. Holt paused, appearing to think that Mr. Lyon had been successfullyconfuted, and should show himself convinced.

  "Has any one been aspersing your husband's character?" said Mr. Lyon,with a slight initiative toward that relief of groaning for which he hadreproved Lyddy.

  "Sir, they daredn't. For though he was a man of prayer, he didn't wantskill and knowledge to find things out for himself; and that's what Iused to say to _my_ friends when they wondered at my marrying a man fromLancashire, with no trade nor fortune, but what he'd got in his head.But my husband's tongue 'ud have been a fortune to anybody, and therewas many a one said it was as good as a dose of physic to hear him talk;not but what that got him into trouble in Lancashire, but he alwayssaid, if the worst came to the worst, he could go and preach to theblacks. But he did better than that, Mr. Lyon, for he married me; andthis I will say, that for age, and conduct, and managing----"

  "Mistress Holt," interrupted the minister, "these are not the thingswhereby we may edify one another. Let me beg of you to be as brief asyou can. My time is not my own."

  "Well, Mr. Lyon, I've a right to my own character; and I'm one of yourcongregation, though I'm not a church member, for
I was born in theGeneral Baptist connection: and as for being saved without works,there's a many, I dare say, can't do without that doctrine; but I thankthe Lord I never needed to put _my_self on a level with the thief on thecross. I've done _my_ duty, and more, if anybody comes to that; for I'vegone without my bit of meat to make broth for a sick neighbor: and ifthere's any of the church members say they've done the same, I'd askthem if they had the sinking at the stomach as I have; for I've everstrove to do the right thing, and more, for good-natured I always was;and I little thought, after being respected by everybody, I should cometo be reproached by my own son. And my husband said, when he wasa-dying--'Mary,' he said, 'the Elixir, and the Pills, and the Cure willsupport you, for they've a great name in all the country round, andyou'll pray for a blessing on them.' And so I've done, Mr. Lyon and tosay they're not good medicines, when they've been taken for fifty milesround by high and low, rich and poor, and nobody speaking against 'embut Dr. Lukin, it seems to me it's a flying in the face of Heaven; forif it was wrong to take the medicines, couldn't the blessed Lord havestopped it?"

  Mrs. Holt was not given to tears; she was much sustained by consciousunimpeachableness, and by an argumentative tendency which usually checksthe too great activity of the lachrymal gland; nevertheless her eyes hadbecome moist, her fingers played on her knee in an agitated manner, andshe finally plucked a bit of her gown and held it with great nicetybetween her thumb and finger. Mr. Lyon, however, by listeningattentively, had begun partly to divine the source of her trouble.

  "Am I wrong in gathering from what you say, Mistress Holt, that your sonhas objected in some way to your sale of your late husband's medicines?"

  "Mr. Lyon, he's masterful beyond everything, and he talks more than hisfather did. I've got my reason, Mr. Lyon, and if anybody talks sense Ican follow him; but Felix talks so wild, and contradicts his mother. Andwhat do you think he says, after giving up his 'prenticeship, and goingoff to study at Glasgow, and getting through all the bit of money hisfather saved for his bringing-up--what has all his learning come to? Hesays I'd better never open my Bible, for it's as bad poison to me as thepills are to half the people as swallow 'em. You'll not speak of thisagain, Mr. Lyon--I don't think ill enough of you to believe _that_. ForI suppose a Christian can understand the word o' God without going toGlasgow, and there's texts upon texts about ointment and medicine, andthere's one as might have been for a receipt of my husband's--it's justas if it was a riddle, and Holt's Elixir was the answer."

  "Your son uses rash words, Mistress Holt," said the minister, "but it isquite true that we may err in giving a too private interpretation to theScripture. The word of God has to satisfy the larger needs of Hispeople, like the rain and the sunshine--which no man must think to bemeant for his own patch of seed-ground solely. Will it not be well thatI should see your son, and talk with him on these matters? He was atchapel, I observe, and I suppose I am to be his pastor."

  "That was what I wanted to ask you, Mr. Lyon. For perhaps he'll listento you, and not talk you down as he does his poor mother. For after we'dbeen to chapel, he spoke better of you than he does of most: he said youwas a fine old fellow, and an old-fashioned Puritan--he uses dreadfullanguage, Mr. Lyon but I saw he didn't mean you ill, for all that. Hecalls most folks's religion rottenness; and yet another time he'll tellme I ought to feel myself a sinner, and do God's will and not my own.But it's my belief he says first one thing and then another only toabuse his mother. Or else he's going off his head, and must be sent to a'sylum. But if he writes to the _North Loamshire Herald_ first, to telleverybody the medicines are good for nothing, how can I ever keep himand myself?"

  "Tell him I shall feel favored if he will come and see me this evening,"said Mr. Lyon, not without a little prejudice in favor of the young man,whose language about the preacher in Malthouse Yard did not seem to himto be altogether dreadful. "Meanwhile, my friend, I counsel you to sendup a supplication, which I shall not fail to offer also, that you mayreceive a spirit of humility and submission, so that you may not behindered from seeing and following the Divine guidance in this matter byany false lights of pride and obstinacy. Of this more when I have spokenwith your son."

  "I'm not proud or obstinate, Mr. Lyon. I never did say I was everythingthat was bad, and I never will. And why this trouble should be sent onme above everybody else--for I haven't told you all. He's made himself ajourneyman to Mr. Prowd the watchmaker--after all this learning--and hesays he'll go with patches on his knees, and he shall like himself thebetter. And as for him having little boys to teach, they'll come in allweathers with dirty shoes. If it's madness, Mr. Lyon, it's no use yourtalking to him."

  "We shall see. Perhaps it may even be the disguised working of gracewithin him. We must not judge rashly. Many eminent servants of God havebeen led by ways as strange."

  "Then I'm sorry for their mothers, that's all, Mr. Lyon and all themore if they'd been well-spoken-on women. For not my biggest enemy,whether it's he or she, if they'll speak the truth, can turn round andsay I've deserved this trouble. And when everybody gets their due, andpeople's doings are spoke of on the house-tops, as the Bible says theywill be, it'll be known what I've gone through with those medicines--thepounding and the pouring, and the letting stand, and the weighing--upearly and down late--there's nobody knows yet but One that's worthy toknow; and the pasting o' the printed labels right side upwards. There'sfew women would have gone through with it; and it's reasonable to thinkit'll be made up to me; for if there's promised and purchased blessings,I should think this trouble is purchasing 'em. For if my son Felixdoesn't have a strait-waistcoat put on him, he'll have his way. But Isay no more. I wish you good-morning, Mr. Lyon, and thank you, though Iwell know it's your duty to act as you're doing. And I never troubledyou about my own soul, as some do who look down on me for not being achurch member."

  "Farewell, Mistress Holt, farewell. I pray that a more powerful teacherthan I am may instruct you."

  The door was closed, and the much-tried Rufus walked about again, sayingaloud, groaningly--

  "This woman has sat under the Gospel all her life, and she is as blindas a heathen, and as proud and stiff-necked as a Pharisee; yet she isone of the souls I watch for. 'Tis true that even Sara, the chosenmother of God's people, showed a spirit of unbelief, and perhaps ofselfish anger; and it is a passage that bears the unmistakable signet,'doing honor to the wife or woman, as unto the weaker vessel.' Fortherein is the greatest check put on the ready scorn of the naturalman."