CHAPTER XIX.
ABOUT THE HUMILITY OF PROFESSIONAL SAINTS, A SUCCESSION OF TAILS, A BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM, AND OTHER HEAVENLY MATTERS, DIPLOMACY INCLUDED.
Perceiving that Brigadier Downright had an observant mind, and that he was altogether superior to the clannish feeling which is so apt to render a particular species inimical to all others, I asked permission to cultivate his acquaintance; begging, at the same time, that he would kindly favor me with such remarks as might be suggested by his superior wisdom and extensive travels, on any of those customs or opinions that would naturally present themselves in our actual situation. The brigadier took the request in good part, and we began to promenade the rooms in company. As the Archbishop of Aggregation, who was to perform the marriage ceremony, was shortly expected, the conversation very naturally turned on the general state of religion in the monikin region.
I was delighted to find that the clerical dogmas of this insulated portion of the world were based on principles absolutely identical with those of all Christendom. The monikins believe that they are a miserable lost set of wretches, who are so debased by nature, so eaten up by envy, uncharitableness, and all other evil passions, that it is quite impossible they can do anything that is good of themselves; that their sole dependence is on the moral interference of the great superior power of creation; and that the very first, and the one needful step of their own, is to cast themselves entirely on this power for support, in a proper spirit of dependence and humility. As collateral to, and consequent on, this condition of the mind, they lay the utmost stress on a disregard of all the vanities of life, a proper subjection of the lusts of the flesh, and an abstaining from the pomp and vainglory of ambition, riches, power, and the faculties. In short, the one thing needful was humility—humility—humility. Once thoroughly humbled to a degree that put them above the danger of backsliding, they obtained glimpses of security, and were gradually elevated to the hopes and the condition of the just.
The brigadier was still eloquently discoursing on this interesting topic, when a distant door opened, and a gold stick, or some other sort of stick, announced the right reverend father in God, his grace the most eminent and most serene prelate, the very puissant and thrice gracious and glorified saint, the Primate of All Leaphigh!
The reader will anticipate the eager curiosity with which I advanced to get a glimpse of a saint under a system as sublimated as that of the great monikin family. Civilization having made such progress as to strip all the people, even to the king and queen, entirely of everything in the shape of clothes, I did not well see under what new mantle of simplicity the heads of the church could take refuge! Perhaps they shaved off all the hair from their bodies in sign of supereminent self-abasement, leaving themselves naked to the cuticle, that they might prove, by ocular evidence, what a poor ungainly set of wretches they really were, carnally considered; or perhaps they went on all-fours to heaven, in sign of their unfitness to enter into the presence of the pure of mind in an attitude more erect and confident. Well, these fancies of mine only went to prove how erroneous and false are the conclusions of one whose capacity has not been amplified and concatenated by the ingenuities of a very refined civilization. His grace the most gracious father in God, wore a mantle of extraordinary fineness and beauty, the material of which was composed of every tenth hair taken from all the citizens of Leaphigh, who most cheerfully submitted to be shaved, in order that the wants of his most eminent humility might be decently supplied. The mantle, wove from such a warp and such a woof, was necessarily very large; and it really appeared to me that the prelate did not very well know what to do with so much of it, more especially as the contributions include a new robe annually. I was now desirous of getting a sight of his tail; for, knowing that the Leaphighers take great pride in the length and beauty of that appurtenance, I very naturally supposed that a saint who wore so fine and glorious a robe, by way of humility, must have recourse to some novel expedient to mortify himself on his sensitive subject, at least. I found that the ample proportions of the mantle concealed not only the person, but most of the movements of the archbishop; and it was with many doubts of my success that I led the brigadier behind the episcopal train to reconnoitre. The result disappointed expectation again. Instead of being destitute of a tail, or of concealing that with which nature had supplied him beneath his mantle, the most gracious dignitary wore no less than six caudae, viz., his own, and five others added to it, by some subtle process of clerical ingenuity that I shall not attempt to explain; one “bent on the other,” as the captain described them in a subsequent conversation. This extraordinary train was allowed to sweep the floor; the only sign of humility, according to my uninstructed faculties, I could discern about the person and appearance of this illustrious model of clerical self-mortification and humility.
The brigadier, however, was not tardy in setting me right. In the first place, he gave me to understand that the hierarchy of Leaphigh was illustrated by the order of their tails. Thus, a deacon wore one and a half; a curate, if a minister, one and three-quarters, and a rector two; a dean, two and a half, an archdeacon, three; a bishop, four; the Primate of Leaphigh, five, and the Primate of ALL Leaphigh, six. The origin of the custom, which was very ancient, and of course very much respected, was imputed to the doctrine of a saint of great celebrity, who had satisfactorily proved that as the tail was the intellectual or the spiritual part of a monikin, the farther it was removed from the mass of matter, or the body, the more likely it was to be independent, consecutive, logical, and spiritualized. The idea had succeeded astonishingly at first; but time, which will wear out even a cauda, had given birth to schisms in the church on this interesting subject; one party contending that two more joints ought to be added to the archbishop’s embellishment, by way of sustaining the church, and the other that two joints ought to be incontinently abstracted, in the way of reform.
These explanations were interrupted by the appearance of the bride and bridegroom, at different doors. The charming Chatterissa advanced with a most prepossessing modesty, followed by a glorious train of noble maidens, all keeping their eyes, by a rigid ordinance of hymeneal etiquette, dropped to the level of the queen’s feet. On the other hand, my lord Chatterino, attended by that coxcomb Hightail, and others of his kidney, stepped towards the altar with a lofty confidence, which the same etiquette exacted of the bridegroom. The parties were no sooner in their places, than the prelate commenced.
The marriage ceremony, according to the formula of the established church of Leaphigh, is a very solemn and imposing ceremony. The bridegroom is required to swear that he loves the bride and none but the bride; that he has made his choice solely on account of her merits, uninfluenced even by her beauty; and that he will so far command his inclinations as, on no account, ever to love another a jot. The bride, on her part, calls heaven and earth to witness, that she will do just what the bridegroom shall ask of her; that she will be his bondwoman, his slave, his solace and his delight; that she is quite certain no other monikin could make her happy, but, on the other hand, she is absolutely sure that any other monikin would be certain to make her miserable. When these pledges, oaths, and asseverations were duly made and recorded, the archbishop caused the happy pair to be wreathed together, by encircling them with his episcopal tail, and they were then pronounced monikin and monikina. I pass over the congratulations, which were quite in rule, to relate a short conversation I held with the brigadier.
“Sir,” said I, addressing that person, as soon as the prelate said ‘amen,’ “how is this? I have seen a certificate, myself, which showed that there was a just admeasurement of the fitness of this union, on the score of other considerations than those mentioned in the ceremony?”
“That certificate has no connection with this ceremony.”