This sombre background was somewhat relieved by the glints of the firelight on a few gilt picture frames containing portraits, and by a few steel engravings built curiously in among the books. Those dear old engravings, which forty years ago embellished every middle class home in Scotland,--John Knox preaching, Queen Mary at Leith after Sir William Allan, and Duncan's stirring memorials of Prince Charlie--they were good wholesome art for every day life, and likely to stir the children's hearts, as did the ballads sung round the hearths of an earlier generation, to an honest love of the brave and the beautiful, and a sturdy pride in their Scottish birth. We have higher art now-a-days, or we think so. We spend more money on it; and if not more discriminative, are at least greatly more critical; but is the moral influence of our walls on our households better now than it was then? The boys and girls of to-day will grow up less narrow. Will they be as loyal and true-hearted?
But to return to the study of the Reverend Roderick Brown, licentiate of the Free Church of Scotland. On the window-shelf were pots of hardy roses in luxuriant bloom, and in the distant corner stood a tall crimson cloth screen of many leaves, behind which were concealed the bed and toilette appurtenances of his reverence the licentiate. Beyond this a door communicated with an inner room; but here there are signs unmistakable of a lady's chamber, so we may not intrude.
Drawn up before the fire there stands a large writing-table, on which are books and much manuscript, and at one end sits the occupant, deep in the composition of one of the five or six discourses he will be expected to deliver in the course of the following week. A tall young man under thirty, well-proportioned and even athletic, but pale and thin, and rather worn as regards the face. The straight black hair which he has tossed back from his face in the throes of composition, displays a forehead pale, blue-veined, and high, but rather narrow, eyes dark and deep-set, beneath shaggy brows, in hollow and blue-rimmed sockets, as of one who has gone through much excitement and fatigue, but burning with a steady fire of enthusiasm, which seems as if it would never go out, so long as a drop of the oil of life remains in the lamp to supply it with fuel. The mouth is long and flexible, not without signs of firmness and vigor, but gentle and serene, a smile appearing to lurk in one of the corners, as awaiting its opportunity to break forth. The whole expression is pure and unworldly. An observer must have said, that, whether or not he might be wise and prudent, he did not look like a fool, and he was most assuredly good.
His sister Mary sits opposite him plying her needle, and crooning to herself some scraps of old world song, but softly, so as not to disturb the flow of the minister's thoughts. She is younger by some years than her brother, tall like him, and with all the grace in repose that comes of well-exercised and symmetrical limbs. The head is small, with a wealth of golden brown hair wound tightly round it, face oval and fair, with the complexion of a shell The eyelids are very full, drooping and long-lashed, and beneath them the eyes look forth like violets from the shade. The hands are large and firm, but white, supple, and perfectly shaped, and it is a treat and a joy to watch her as she sits at work. She seems to exhale the breath of violets, suggested perhaps by the colour of her eyes, as one follows her tranquil movements, like Shelley's hyacinth bells--
'Which rang with a music so soft and intense
That it passed for an odor within the sense.'
The varying light of the fire, shining warmly upon her, touches even the folds of her black gown into a subdued repetition of the quivering glories that flicker among her hair.
Those were the disruption times, which all have heard of, and the middle-aged among us can recall more or less vividly. Times so different from the present! When we look back on them, knowing how much there was that was narrow, rugged, and unlovely, we must still feel a regretful admiration for an atmosphere of earnestness and more heroic warmth of feeling than is now attainable to the cold-blooded clear-sightedness and electric dispassionateness of the critical spirit now prevalent, which admits good and detects shortcoming in all varieties of faith and opinion alike, and so, leaves the seeker after the better to follow the worse in pure weariness, satisfied in the end to pursue material advantage, seeing that Truth and Goodness have become abstractions, too high to be attained, or else too widely diffused to be missed, in whatever direction the wayfarer may stray.
In those days the seeker after the goodly pearl of truth, felt constrained to forsake all and followed it; and doubtless the forsaking and the quest brought a moral benefit, though it by no means follows that the form in which they sought it, the Ultramontane fetish of ecclesiastical supremacy--exemption from State interference, combined with an unlimited right to meddle in the State--was in any sense a truth at all. An earnest following out of the supposed truth cannot but be wholesome to the seeker, and to fight for an idea of any kind, must be good in materialistic times.
One is led to use the word 'Ultramontane' in connection with the Free Church 'movement,' by the curious resemblance between the claims of these ardent Presbyterians, and those of the Ultramontane section of the Catholic Church, as well as by the very similar language in which both expressed and supported them. It would seem indeed as if since 1840 a wave of turbulence had passed over the minds of all Churchmen, beginning in this Northern Kingdom and rolling Southwards. England and Ireland have since then been disturbed by unruly priests, and the long pontificate of Pius IX. has witnessed in every country a continued effort of the Spiritual Estate to assert itself against secular authority.
That the struggle in Scotland was for no absolute truth, would appear from the change of front which the body that then arose now presents. It commenced by claiming to have inherited the rights of the historical church, confirmed by act of parliament, to guide the nation and the state in questions of faith and morals. Now it places itself with the voluntary religious associations, and clamours for depriving its own successors of the endowments which its members themselves resigned because of conditions which now do not exist. When Chalmers, ten years before the Disruption, fought the battle of Establishments against Voluntaryism, not only in Scotland, but in England also, he little thought that the Church he was to found, would, in a quarter of a century, become the hottest association of voluntaries in the country! New circumstances have begotten new 'principles,' let us say, for it would not be well to impute anything like trade jealousy to holy men.