Dickens, Charles – American Notes for General Circulation
‘Who are these – who are they – who are these fellows? where do
they come from? Where are they going to? – Come from! What’s the
answer?’ – leaning out of the pulpit, and pointing downward with
his right hand: ‘From below!’ – starting back again, and looking
at the sailors before him: ‘From below, my brethren. From under
the hatches of sin, battened down above you by the evil one.
That’s where you came from!’ – a walk up and down the pulpit: ‘and
where are you going’ – stopping abruptly: ‘where are you going?
Aloft!’ – very softly, and pointing upward: ‘Aloft!’ – louder:
‘aloft!’ – louder still: ‘That’s where you are going – with a fair
wind, – all taut and trim, steering direct for Heaven in its glory,
where there are no storms or foul weather, and where the wicked
cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.’ – Another walk:
‘That’s where you’re going to, my friends. That’s it. That’s the
place. That’s the port. That’s the haven. It’s a blessed harbour
– still water there, in all changes of the winds and tides; no
driving ashore upon the rocks, or slipping your cables and running
out to sea, there: Peace – Peace – Peace – all peace!’ – Another
walk, and patting the Bible under his left arm: ‘What! These
fellows are coming from the wilderness, are they? Yes. From the
dreary, blighted wilderness of Iniquity, whose only crop is Death.
But do they lean upon anything – do they lean upon nothing, these
poor seamen?’ – Three raps upon the Bible: ‘Oh yes. – Yes. – They
lean upon the arm of their Beloved’ – three more raps: ‘upon the
arm of their Beloved’ – three more, and a walk: ‘Pilot, guidingstar,
and compass, all in one, to all hands – here it is’ – three
more: ‘Here it is. They can do their seaman’s duty manfully, and
be easy in their minds in the utmost peril and danger, with this’ –
two more: ‘They can come, even these poor fellows can come, from
the wilderness leaning on the arm of their Beloved, and go up – up
– up!’ – raising his hand higher, and higher, at every repetition
of the word, so that he stood with it at last stretched above his
head, regarding them in a strange, rapt manner, and pressing the
book triumphantly to his breast, until he gradually subsided into
some other portion of his discourse.
I have cited this, rather as an instance of the preacher’s
eccentricities than his merits, though taken in connection with his
look and manner, and the character of his audience, even this was
striking. It is possible, however, that my favourable impression
of him may have been greatly influenced and strengthened, firstly,
by his impressing upon his hearers that the true observance of
religion was not inconsistent with a cheerful deportment and an
exact discharge of the duties of their station, which, indeed, it
scrupulously required of them; and secondly, by his cautioning them
not to set up any monopoly in Paradise and its mercies. I never
heard these two points so wisely touched (if indeed I have ever
heard them touched at all), by any preacher of that kind before.
Having passed the time I spent in Boston, in making myself
acquainted with these things, in settling the course I should take
in my future travels, and in mixing constantly with its society, I
am not aware that I have any occasion to prolong this chapter.
Such of its social customs as I have not mentioned, however, may be
told in a very few words.
The usual dinner-hour is two o’clock. A dinner party takes place
at five; and at an evening party, they seldom sup later than
eleven; so that it goes hard but one gets home, even from a rout,
by midnight. I never could find out any difference between a party
at Boston and a party in London, saving that at the former place
all assemblies are held at more rational hours; that the
conversation may possibly be a little louder and more cheerful; and