“Did you say so?” he asked of the preacher abruptly.
“Well, sir, we thought, as you were so mighty particular, you would object to bury a Dissenter.”
“On the contrary,” said the vicar, “do you not know that I should be but too happy to bury you all?”
He was highly incensed at Mr. Cowper Temple’s abortive proposal for admitting Dissenters to the pulpits of the Church. “What!” said he in wrath, “suffer a Dissenting minister to invade our sacred precincts, to draw near to our pulpits and altars! It is contrary to Scripture; for Scripture says: ‘If a beast do but touch the mountain, let him be stoned or thrust through with a dart.’”
As an instance of despotic conduct towards a parishioner, it would be difficult to match the following incident: A wealthy yeoman of Morwenstow, Mr. B——, was the owner of a tall pew, which stood like a huge sentry-box, in the nave of the church. Most of the other pew-owners had consented to the removal of the doors, curtains and panelling which they had erected upon or in place of their old family seats to hide themselves from the vulgar gaze; but no persuasion of the vicar had any effect upon the stubborn Mr. B——. The pew had been constructed and furnished with a view to comfort; and, like the famous Derbyshire farmer, Mr. B—— could “vould his arms, shut his eyes, dra’ out his legs and think upon nothin’” therein, unnoticed by any one but the parson. Moreover, Mr. B—— had, it was said, a faculty-right to the hideous enclosure. He was therefore invulnerable to all the coaxing, reasoning, threatening and preaching which could be brought to bear upon him. Weeks after all the other pews had been swept away, he intrenched himself in his ecclesiastical fortress, and looked defiance at the outside world. At last the vicar resolved to storm the enemy, and gave him due notice, that, on a certain day and hour, it was his intention to demolish the pew. Mr. B—— was present at the appointed time to defend his property, but was so taken aback at the sight of the vicar entering the church armed with a large axe, that he stood dumfounded with amazement, whilst, without uttering a word, the vicar strode up to the pew, and with a few lusty blows literally smashed it to pieces, and then flung the fragments outside the church door. To the credit of Mr. B——, he still continued to attend church; but he took on one occasion an un-seasonable opportunity of rebuking the vicar for his violence. It was on the parish feast day, or “revel” as the inhabitants of the parish called it; and, as was his wont, the vicar was expatiating in the pulpit on the antiquity of the church, and how the shrine of St. Morwenna had been preserved unchanged whilst dynasties had perished and empires had been overthrown. Whereupon Mr. B—— exclaimed in a voice of thunder, “No such thing: you knacked down my pew!” The vicar, however, was still more than a match for him. Without the least embarrassment, he turned from St. Morwenna to the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, and, in describing the life and character of Dives, drew such a vivid portrait of Mr. B——, that the poor man rushed out of church when the preacher began to consign him to his place of torment.
The impression was strong upon him, that he and the Church were under special Divine protection, and he would insist that no misfortune ever befel his cows or sheep. When, however, after some years he was unlucky, he looked on every stroke of misfortune as an assault of Satan himself, allowed to try him as he had tried Job.
This belief that he had, of a special Providence watching over him, must explain the somewhat painful feature of his looking out for the ruin of those who wrought evil against the Church. He bore them no malice; but he looked upon such wrongs done as done to God, and as sure to be avenged by Him. He had always a text at hand to support his view. “I have no personal enemies,” he would say, “but Uzziah cannot put his hand to the ark without the Lord making a breach upon him.”
His conviction that the Church was God’s kingdom was never shaken. “No weapon formed against thee shall prosper,” he said; “that was a promise made by God to the Church, and God does not forget His promises. Why, I have seen His promise kept again and again. I know that God is no liar.”
“But look at the hostility to the Church in Mr. M——, what efforts he has made in Parliament, and throughout the country, agitating men’s minds, and all for the purpose of overthrowing the Church. He prospers.”
“My friend,” said the vicar, pausing, and laying his hand solemnly on his companion’s arm, “God does not always pay wages on Saturday night.”