Gerald Eversley's Friendship: A Study in Real Life

by J. E. C. Welldon

‘How many times must a person go to church on a Sunday in order to be a good man?’ asked Gerald, rather captiously, for he knew what the answer would be. Mrs. Eversley went to church twice on Sunday, never oftener and (except after her confinements) never less often; it was evident, therefore, that the orthodox thing was to attend divine service twice. Mrs. Eversley’s theory, though I am not aware that it was ever formulated in words, was that to go to church only once on Sunday was irreligion, to go twice was piety and propriety, to go three times was hypocrisy. It is possible that, if she had been in the habit of going to church once only, it would have been considered hypocritical to go twice. As it was, she answered, ‘Twice, of course, as your father and I have gone all through our married life.’

Gerald turned the conversation to the decorations of the church. They were meagre; indeed, Mrs. Eversley had some doubt as to decorations generally; but they were the results of her own taste and orthodoxy, and in praising them he felt he might hope to propitiate her.

Then he remarked that Mr. Seaford seemed to be ageing a good deal.

‘Yes, he is,’ replied Mrs. Eversley; ‘he is not so regular as he might be at church now in the winter months, but I don’t think he will miss the Sacrament on the first Sunday of the year.’

That was a hint to Gerald—at least, so he thought—that he had better not miss it himself.

The celebration of the Sacrament in Kestercham Church thirty years ago was a singular ceremony. It took place four times in the year. Some of its features it would be impossible to reproduce.

When the congregation withdrew from the church after morning service, a certain number of persons would linger in the porch as curious and rather critical spectators of what was going on. They were especially interested in observing whether the body of communicants would be augmented by any new comer; for participation in the Sacrament, despite Mr. Eversley’s strenuous efforts, remained among the Kestercham folk as a sort of social or moral badge, and the merits and demerits of any labourer or his wife who ventured to approach the Lord’s Table for the first time were severely scrutinised and debated by their neighbours. Mr. Eversley had done his best to check this practice, and he sometimes thought Mr. Dawes, the clerk, himself must be in league (as was probable enough) with his fellow-parishioners in the porch; for if he caused the door leading from the porch into the church to be shut at the beginning of the Communion Office, it was sure to be opened by some unseen hand before the office was done. The few farmers were in general communicants, but not many labourers. It had been one of Mr. Eversley’s difficulties, when he came to Kestercham, that the farmers, who felt that their social precedence was somehow determined by the order in which they received the sacred elements, were all eager to be first in approaching the Lord’s Table; but it had at last been settled that Mr. Seaford, as churchwarden, and his family should communicate immediately after the vicarage party, and then the other farmers and their families according to the order of their pews, those whose pews were nearest to the chancel of the church communicating first, and the corresponding pews on the two sides of the nave being regarded as equal in merit. This arrangement had cost Mr. Eversley a great deal of trouble, and it still left some smouldering discontent.

Mr. Eversley had so far altered the practice of his parishioners at the quarterly celebrations of the Sacrament, but the collection of the offertory still remained as it had been when he came to Kestercham. The amount collected was a matter of keen parochial interest. Mr. Seaford and another farmer were deputed to collect it from the communicants; it was taken by them to Mr. Eversley, and by him placed on the holy table. He then proceeded with the Communion. But such was always the excitement of Mr. Seaford and his colleague that they could not remain in their pews to the conclusion of the office; but when they had themselves communicated, they took up their positions, standing, the one on the north, the other on the south side of the chancel, just without the altar-rails, and, as soon as Mr. Eversley had pronounced the Benediction and even before he had risen from his knees, they darted within the rails, emptied out the alms upon the table and counted them over amidst eager and audible comments. Great was the delight if a gold coin, or large silver coin, appeared in the offertory—a delight so emphatically expressed that it arrested the attention, and gratified the expectation, of the spectators in the porch.

But the service, peculiar as no doubt it was (though no one in Kestercham was aware of its peculiarities), was redeemed by the grave and reverent solemnity of Mr. Eversley’s own demeanour. Even casual and careless worshippers were awed by the tone of his voice as he spoke the words, ‘The body of the Lord Jesus Christ which was given for thee.... The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ which was shed for thee ... preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life.’ It was not only that the Body and Blood were so sacred in his eyes. It was that the Everlasting Life was so real, so tremendous.

The first Sacrament of the year was a great event in Kestercham parish. Mr. Eversley would exhort, nay, entreat his people to partake of it. It was a virtual consecration of the year to God. A person who had been ‘converted’ during the year (if such there were) would probably make his first communion then. What a joy it was to Mr. Eversley if one who had long been walking in sin were seen slowly and timidly moving up the church to the Lord’s Table on that Sunday! All the regular communicants were always present.