Neither George nor his father were much disturbed by any of the items in Scotton’s information nor by Mr. Broad’s letter, save the reference to Pauline. It is true it was very remote, but the meaning, especially after Scotton’s explanation, was obvious, and George was in a fury which his father found it very difficult to repress. For himself George did not care, but he did care that Pauline’s name should not be dragged into the wretched squabble. Father and son both agreed that the case should be laid before Zachariah; but when Mr. Allen came back from London he merely said, in answer to George’s inquiries, that Zachariah and himself were in perfect accord, and that at the meeting George was not to interfere.
CHAPTER XXVII
Mr. Broad’s last Church Meeting—Latimer Chapel
The eventful evening at last arrived. It had been announced from the pulpit on the Sunday before that a special meeting of the church would be held on the following Wednesday to consider certain questions of discipline—nothing more—as it was not thought proper before the general congregation to introduce matters with which the church alone was qualified to deal. Everybody, however, knew what was intended, and when Wednesday night came the vestry was crowded. Mr. Broad sat in a seat slightly elevated at the end of the room, with a desk before him. On his right hand was Brother Bushel, on the left was Brother Scotton, and on the front bench were Brother Wainwright and a few of the more important members, amongst whom was Thomas Broad, who, although it was a week-day, was in full ministerial costume; that is to say, he wore his black—not pepper-and-salt—trousers and a white neckerchief. Mr. Allen and George were at the back of the room. There were no women there, for although women were members as well as men, it was always an understood thing at Tanner’s Lane that they were to take no part in the business of the community. Seven o’clock having struck, Mr. Broad rose and said, “Let us pray.” He prayed for about ten minutes, and besought the Almighty to shed abroad His Holy Spirit upon them for their guidance. As the chosen people had been brought through the wilderness and delivered from the manifold perils therein, so God, he hoped, would lead His flock then assembled, through the dangers which encompassed them. Oh that they might be wise as serpents and harmless as doves! Might they for ever cleave to the faith once delivered to the saints! Might they never be led astray to doubt the efficacy of the Blood of the Atonement once offered by the Son of God! Might they, through their Saviour’s merits, secure at last an entrance into those mansions where all the saints of God, those faithful souls whom He had elected as His own, of His own eternal foreknowledge, would abide for ever, in full fruition of the joys promised in His Word.
The prayer over, Mr. Broad rose and said that he was there that night to discharge a most painful duty—one which, if he had taken counsel with flesh and blood, he would most gladly have avoided. But he was a humble servant of their common Lord and Master. It behoved him to cease not to warn every one night and day; to remember that the Holy Ghost had made him an overseer to feed the church of God which He had purchased with His precious blood. He had done nothing in this matter without constant recurrence to the footstool of grace, and he had also consulted with some of his dear brethren in Christ whom he saw near him. They would have observed that Brother Allen and his family had for some time absented themselves from the means of grace. He should have said nothing upon this point if they had joined any other Christian community. If even they had attended the Established Church, he would have been silent, for he was free to confess that in other religious bodies besides their own God had faithful servants who held fast to the fundamental doctrines of His book. But it was notorious, alas! that his dear brother had gone NOWHERE! In the face of the apostolic command not to forsake the assembling of themselves together, what could they do but suspect that his dear brother’s belief had been undermined—sapped, he would say? But to that point he would return presently. Then, again, they were all familiar with the circumstances attending the late political contest in the county. He knew that many of his dear brethren differed one from another concerning matters relating to this world, although they were all, blessed be God, one in Christ, members of His body. He himself had thought it better to follow as far as he could, the example of his Lord and Master to render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar’s, and to lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty. He would not for a moment, however, condemn any who differed from him in carnal policy. But his dear Brother Allen and his son had overstepped the line; and, considering this was a mixed church, he was of opinion that they should have acted—what should he say?—with more Christian consideration. More than this, Mr. George Allen was known to have abetted an unruly mob, a position highly unbecoming, he might say, to one occupying the position of member at Tanner’s Lane. But he might, perhaps, be permitted to dwell for a moment on another point. His dear Brother Allen and his son had—there was no doubt of it—consorted with infidels, one of whom had been convicted by the laws of his country—a convict—and it was through their instrumentality that his brethren had been led to wander from the fold. This was the secret of the calamity which had overtaken the church. Wolves, he would say—yes, wolves, grievous wolves—had entered in, not sparing the flock. Let them consider what an Infidel was! It meant a man who denied his Maker, Revelation, a life beyond the grave, and who made awful jests upon the Holy Scriptures! He had evidence that in this miserable household there was a portrait of that dreadful blasphemer Voltaire, who on his deathbed cried out in vain for that salvation which he had so impiously refused, and amidst shrieks of—despair, which chilled with terror those who stood by him, was carried off by the Enemy of Souls to the lake that burneth with brimstone, where their worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched.—(Sensation.) (This was a famous paragraph in one of Mr. Broad’s sermons preached on great occasions, and particularly when he supplied a metropolitan pulpit. The story had been contradicted twice in the county paper by a Frenchman, a retired teacher of his native language, who had somehow heard of the insult offered to his great countryman, and a copy of the contradiction had been sent to Mr. Broad. He was content with observing that its author was a Frenchman, and therefore probably an atheist, “with no consciousness of moral obligation.” Voltaire’s diabolic disappearance continued, therefore, to be one of Mr. Broad’s most striking effects.)—This was a subject of great delicacy. They knew how closely related he was to Brother Allen through that dear saint now in glory. He did not—he could not—(Mr. Broad seemed to be affected)—allude in any detail to what had happened; but still it was his duty to point out that Mr. George Allen had been in constant intercourse with a female in an infidel family—yes, before his wife’s death he had been seen with her alone! Alone with an infidel female! He only hoped that the knowledge of this fact did not accelerate the departure of his blessed daughter—daughter in the flesh and daughter in Christ. He could not measure the extent of that intercourse; the Searcher of hearts alone could do that, save the parties concerned; but, of course, as she was an unbeliever, they must fear the worst. For himself, he had felt that this was the root of everything. They would judge for themselves how fervently he must have appealed to the Mercy-seat, considering his position and relationship with his dear brother, before he had seen his way to take the present course; but at last God had revealed Himself to him, and he now committed the case to them. Might God have mercy on them, and His Spirit lead them.
Mr. Allen and George had scarcely restrained themselves, and George, notwithstanding his father’s injunction, leapt up before the concluding sentences were out of Mr. Broad’s mouth. Mr. Scotton, however, rose, and Mr. Allen pulled George down. Mr. Scotton wished to say just one word. They could not, he was sure, overestimate the gravity of the situation. They were called together upon a most solemn occasion. Their worthy pastor had spoken as a minister of the gospel. He, Mr. Scotton, as a layman, wished just to remind them that they were exercising judicial functions—(Brother Bushel fidgeted and got very red)—and that it was necessary they should proceed in proper order. With regard to two of the charges, the evidence was fully before them; that is to say, absence from public worship and what might perhaps be thought want of consideration for the peace of the church.—(“Praps,” grunted Bushel—“praps indeed.”)—But with regard to the third charge, the evidence was not before them, and as this was the most important of the three he would suggest before going any farther that they should hear what Mr. Broad could produce.
Brother Bushel objected. It was very seldom indeed that he offered any remarks in public; but this time he could not refrain, and introduced himself as follows:
“Brother Scotton says ‘praps.’ I don’t say ‘praps,’ when people go settin’ class agin class. Praps nobody’s windows was broke! Evidence! Hasn’t our minister told us George Allen has been to London? He wouldn’t tell us an untruth. Due respec’, Brother Scotton—no lawyering—none of that—of them functions—’specially when it’s infidels and ricks may be afire—aught I know.”
Mr. Broad interposed. He quite understood Brother Bushel’s ardour for the truth, but he was prepared to produce some simple corroboration of what he had affirmed, which would, he thought, satisfy Brother Scotton and the brethren generally. “Thomas,” quoth Mr. Broad, “will you please step forward and say what you know?”
Mr. Thomas thereupon advanced to the table, and said it would ill become him to expatiate on the present occasion. He would confine himself to obeying the mandate of his father. He then reported that he had been led to visit the Colemans at first as friends of the Allens, and not knowing their devilish tendencies. God had, however, he hoped, mercifully protected him. If it had not been for God’s grace, where might he not have been that day? It was true that they were disciples of the French sceptic; his likeness was on the walls; his books were on the bookshelves! Mr. George Allen had been in the habit of associating not only with Mr. Coleman, but with the daughter, and with the daughter alone! as has already been stated. She was also an infidel—more so, perhaps, than her father; and Satan had a way, as they all knew, of instilling the deadly poison so seductively that unwary souls were often lost, lost, lost beyond recall, before they could truly be said to be aware of it. He wished, therefore, that evening to confess again, as, indeed, he had just confessed before, that by grace he had been saved. It is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy. He trembled to think how near he himself had been to the pit of destruction, lured by the devices of the great Enemy of Souls; but praise be to God he had been saved, not through own merits, but through the merits of his Redeemer.
Mr. Broad purred with pleasure during this oration, and looked round on the audience for their approval. Mr. Allen was now completely quieted. The speech had acted like a charm. He rose immediately.