Leading Articles on Various Subjects

by Hugh Miller

The twilight had fallen, the flames rose blue and languid in the grate, the deep shadows flickered heavily on the walls and ceiling; there was a drowsy influence in the hour, and a still drowsier influence in the Dialogues, and we think––for what followed could have been only a dream––we think we must have fallen asleep. At all events, the scene changed without any exertion on our part, and we found ourselves in a quiet retired spot in the vicinity of Inverness. The ‘hill of the ship,’ that monarch of Fairy Tomhans, rose immediately in front, gaily feathered over with larch and forest trees; and, terminating a long vista in the background, we saw Mr. Clark’s West Kirk, surmounted by a vast weathercock of gilded tin. Ever and anon the bauble turned its huge side to the sun, and the reflected light went dancing far and wide athwart the landscape. 344 Immediately beneath the weathercock there flared an immense tablet, surmounted by a leaden Fame, and bordered by a row of gongs and trumpets, which bore, in three-feet letters, that, ‘in order to secure so valuable an addition to the church accommodation of the parish, the Rev. Mr. Clark had not hesitated, on his own personal risk, to guarantee the payment of three thousand pounds.’ Our eyes were at first so dazzled by the blaze of the lackering––for the characters shone to the sun as if on fire––that we could see nothing else. As we gazed more attentively, however, we could perceive that every stone and slate of the building bore, like the tablet, the name of Mr. Clark. The endless repetition presented the appearance of a churchyard inscription viewed through a multiplying glass; but what most astonished us was that the Gothic heads, carved by pairs beside the labelled windows, opened wide their stony lips from time to time, and shouted aloud, in a voice somewhat resembling that of the domestic duck when she breaks out into sudden clamour in a hot, dry day, ‘Clark, Clark, Clark!’ We stood not a little appalled at these wonders, marvelling what was to come next, when lo! one of the thickets of the Tomhan beside us opened its interlaced and twisted branches, and out stepped the likeness of Mr. Clark, attired like a conjurer, and armed with a rod. His portly bulk was enwrapped in a voluminous scarf of changing-coloured silk, that, when it caught the light in one direction, exhibited the deep scarlet of a cardinal’s mantle, and presented, when it caught it in another, the sober tinge of our Presbyterian blue. Like the cloak of Asmodeus, it was covered over with figures. In one corner we could see the General Assembly done in miniature, and Mr. Clark rising among the members like Gulliver in Lilliput, to move against the deposition of the seven ministers of Strathbogie. In another the same reverend gentleman, drawn on the same large scale, was just getting on his legs 345 at a political dinner, to denounce his old friends and allies the Evangelicals, as wild destructives, ‘engaged in urging on the fall of the Establishment, in the desperation of human pride.’ Here we could see him baptizing the child of a person who, as he had fallen out of church-going habits, could get it baptized nowhere else; there examined in his presbytery for the offence with closed doors; yonder writing letters to the newspapers on the subject, to say that, if he had baptized the man’s child, it was all because the man was, like himself, a good hater of forced settlements. There were a great many other vignettes besides; and the last in the series was the scene enacted at the late Inverness Presbytery, when Mr. Clark rose to congratulate his old associates, in all the stern severity of consistent virtue, on the facile and ‘squeezable’ character of their representative for the Assembly.

The conjurer came out into an open space, drew a circle around him, and then began to build up on the sward two little human figures about three feet high, as boys build up figures of snow at the commencement of a thaw. Harlequin performs a somewhat similar feat in one of the pantomimes. He first sets up two carrots on end, to serve for legs; balances on them the head of a large cabbage, to serve for a body; sticks on two other carrots, to serve for arms; places a round turnip between them, to serve for a head; gives the crazy erection a blow with his lath sword, and straightway off it stalks, a vegetable man. Mr. Clark had, in like manner, no sooner built up his figures, than, with a peculiarly bland air, and in tones of the softest liquidity, he whispered into the ear of the one, Be you a Convocationist, and into that of the other, Be you a Moderate; and then with his charmed rod he tapped them across the shoulders, and set them a-walking. The creatures straightway jerked up their little heads to the angle of his face, bowed like a brace of automaton dancing-masters, 346 and after pacing round his knees for a few seconds, began Dialogue the first, in just the set terms in which we had been reading it beside our own fire not half an hour before. It seemed, for a few seconds, as if the conjurer and his creations had joined together in a trio, to celebrate the conjurer’s own praises. ‘Excellent clergyman!’ said the Convocationist. ‘Incomparable man!’ exclaimed the Moderate. ‘No minister like our minister!’ said the two in a breath. ‘Ah, gentlemen,’ said the conjurer, looking modestly down, ‘even my very enemies never venture to deny that.’ ‘You, sir,’ said the Convocationist, ‘bring on no occasion the Church question to the pulpit; you know better––you have more sense: we have quite as much of the Church question as is good for us through the week.’ ‘For you, sir,’ chimed in the Moderate, ‘I have long cherished the most thorough respect; but as for your old party, I dislike them more than ever.’ ‘I am not mercenary, gentlemen,’ said the conjurer, laying his hand on his breast; ‘I am not timid, I am not idle; I am a generous, diligent, dauntless, attached pastor; I give alms of all I possess––in especial to the public charities; I make long prayers,––my very best friends often urge on me that my vast labours, weekly and daily, are undermining my strength; I fast often,––I have guaranteed the payment of three thousand pounds for the West Kirk, and three-fourths of my stipend have gone this year to the liquidation of self-imposed liabilities. True, I will be eventually repaid,––that is, if my people don’t leave me; but I have no other security beyond my confidence in the goodness of the cause, and the continued liberality of my countrymen.’ And in this style would the reverend gentleman have continued down to the bottom of the fifth page in his first Dialogue, had it not been for a singularly portentous and terrible interruption.

The haunted Tomnahurich rose, as we have said, immediately behind us, leafy and green; and not one of its 347 multitude of boughs trembled in the sunshine. Suddenly, however, the hill-side began to move. There was a low deep noise like distant thunder; and straightway the débris of a landslip came rolling downwards, half obliterating in its course the circle of the conjurer. Turf, and clay, and stone lay in a mingled ruin at our feet; and wriggling in the midst, like a huge blue-bottle in an old cobweb, there was a reverend gentleman dressed in black. He gathered himself up, sprung deftly to his feet, and stood fronting the conjurer. Wonderful to relate, the man in black proved to be the veritable Mr. Clark of three years ago––Mr. Clark of 1840––Mr. Clark who published the great non-intrusion discourse, who wrote the Rights of Members, who spoke the long anti-patronage speeches, who led the debate in the Assembly anent the rights of the people, and who declared it clear as day that the Church had power to enact the Veto. The conjurer started backwards like a man who receives a mortal wound: the two little figures uttered a thin scrannel shriek apiece, and then slunk out of existence. ‘Avoid ye,’ exclaimed the conjurer, ‘Avoid ye! Conjuro te, conjuro te!’ He then went on to mutter, as if by way of exorcism, in low and very rapid tones, ‘I have no anxiety to refute the charge of inconsistency, which some have endeavoured to fasten on me, from detached portions of what I have written or spoken, during several years, on what may be termed Church politics. In matters not essential to salvation, increased light or advanced experience may properly produce change of sentiment in the most enlightened and conscientious Christian. For a man to assert that he is subject to no change, is to lay claim to one of the perfections–––’ Dialogue 1st, p. 6.

‘And so you won’t go out,’ said the true Mr. Clark, interrupting him.

‘No, sir,’ replied the conjurer. ‘I have maturely considered the proposed secession from the Established Church, 348 and, without pronouncing any judgment on the motives or doings of others who may think or act differently, I deeply feel that in such a measure I could not join without manifest sin against the light of my conscience.’––Dialogue 1st, p. 4.

‘Ah,’ rejoined the true Mr. Clark, ‘did I not say it would be so? I knew there would be found a set of recreant priests, who, for a pitiful morsel of the world’s bread, would submit to be the instruments of trampling on the blood-bought rights of the Scottish people, and call themselves a Church, while departing from their allegiance to Him who is the source of all true ecclesiastical authority; but never can these constitute the Church of Scotland!’––Sermon, p. 40.

‘I cannot reconcile it with the views I have long entertained of my duty to the Church and to the country,’ said the conjurer, ‘to secede from the National Establishment, simply because it wants what it wanted when I became one of its ministers.’––Dialogue 1st, p. 12.

‘Wanted when you became one of its ministers!’ exclaimed the true Mr. Clark. ‘No, sir. The civil courts are now compelling obedience in cases in which they have no jurisdiction, and have levelled with the ground the independent jurisdiction of the Church,––a Church bearing in its diadem a host of martyrs, and which never hitherto submitted to the supremacy of any power, excepting that of the Son of God.’––Sermon, pp. 59-63.

‘I won’t go out,’ reiterated the conjurer.

‘Well, you have told me what you have long deemed to be your duty,’ said the true Mr. Clark. ‘I shall repeat to you, in turn, what I three years ago recorded as mine. “It is the duty of the Church,” I said, “to maintain its position, confirmed as it is by solemn statutes and by the faith of national treaties, until that shall be overthrown by the deliberate decision of the State itself. Should such a circumstance really occur, as that the Legislature should insist that the Church holds its endowments on the express condition 349 of its rendering to civil authority the subjection which it can consistently yield to Christ alone, there being then a plain violation of the terms on which the Church entered into alliance with the State, that alliance must be dissolved, as one which can be no longer continued, but by rendering to men what is due to God.’”––Sermon, p. 28.