The Humbled Pharisee
"What was that?" exclaimed Mrs. Andrews, to the lady who was seatednext to her, as a single strain of music vibrated for a few momentson the atmosphere."A violin, I suppose," was answered."A violin!" An expression almost of horror came into the countenanceof Mrs. Andrews. "It can't be possible."It was possible, however, for the sound came again, prolonged andvaried."What does it mean?" asked Mrs. Andrews, looking troubled, andmoving uneasily in her chair."Cotillions, I presume," was answered, carelessly."Not dancing, surely!"But, even as Mrs. Andrews said this, a man entered, carrying in hishand a violin. There was an instant movement on the part of severalyounger members of the company; partners were chosen, and ere Mrs.Andrews had time to collect her suddenly bewildered thoughts, themusic had struck up, and the dancers were in motion."I can't remain here. It's an outrage!" said Mrs. Andrews, making amotion to rise.The lady by whom she was sitting comprehended now more clearly herstate of mind, and laying a hand on her arm, gently restrained her."Why not remain? What is an outrage, Mrs. Andrews?" she asked."Mrs. Burdick knew very well that I was a member of the church." Thelady's manner was indignant."All your friends know that, Mrs. Andrews," replied the other. Athird person might have detected in her tones a lurking sarcasm. Butthis was not perceived by the individual addressed. "But what iswrong?""Wrong! Isn't that wrong?" And she glanced towards the mazy wreathof human figures already circling on the floor. "I could not havebelieved it of Mrs. Burdick; she knew that I was a professor ofreligion.""She doesn't expect you to dance, Mrs. Andrews," said the lady."But she expects me to countenance the sin and folly by mypresence.""Sin and folly are strong terms, Mrs. Andrews.""I know they are, and I use them advisedly. I hold it a sin todance.""I know wise and good people who hold a different opinion.""Wise and good!" Mrs. Andrews spoke with strong disgust. "I wouldn'tgive much for their wisdom and goodness--not I!""The true qualities of men and women are best seen at home. Whenpeople go abroad, they generally change their attire--mental as wellas bodily. Now, I have seen the home-life of certain ladies, who donot think it sin to dance, and it was full of the heart's warmsunshine; and I have seen the home-life of certain ladies who holddancing to be sinful, and I have said to myself, half shudderingly:"What child can breathe that atmosphere for years, and not grow upwith a clouded spirit, and a fountain of bitterness in the heart!""And so you mean to say," Mrs. Andrews spoke with some asperity ofmanner, "that dancing makes people better?--Is, in fact, a means ofgrace?""No. I say no such thing.""Then what do you mean to say? I draw the only conclusion I canmake.""One may grow better or worse from dancing," said the lady. "Allwill depend on the spirit in which the recreation is indulged. Initself the act is innocent."Mrs. Andrews shook her head."In what does its sin consist?""It is an idle waste of time.""Can you say nothing worse of it?""I could, but delicacy keeps me silent.""Did you ever dance?""Me? What a question! No!""I have danced often. And, let me say, that your inference on thescore of indelicacy is altogether an assumption.""Why everybody admits that.""Not by any means.""If the descriptions of some of the midnight balls and assembliesthat I have heard, of the waltzing, and all that, be true, thennothing could be more indelicate,--nothing more injurious to theyoung and innocent.""All good things become evil in their perversions," said the lady."And I will readily agree with you, that dancing is perverted, andits use, as a means of social recreation, most sadly changed intowhat is injurious. The same may be said of church going.""You shock me," said Mrs. Andrews. "Excuse me, but you are profane.""I trust not. For true religion--for the holy things of thechurch--I trust that I have the most profound reverence. But let meprove what I say, that even church going may become evil.""I am all attention," said the incredulous Mrs. Andrews."You can bear plain speaking.""Me!" The church member looked surprised."Yes, you.""Certainly I can. But why do you ask?""To put you on your guard,--nothing more.""Don't fear but what I can bear all the plain speaking you mayventure upon. As to church going being evil, I am ready to prove thenegative against any allegations you can advance. So speak on."After a slight pause, to collect her thoughts, the lady said:"There has been a protracted meeting in Mr. B----'s church.""I know it. And a blessed time it was.""You attended?""Yes, every day; and greatly was my soul refreshed andstrengthened.""Did you see Mrs. Eldridge there?""Mrs. Eldridge? No indeed, except on Sunday. She's tooworldly-minded for that.""She has a pew in your church.""Yes; and comes every Sunday morning because it is fashionable andrespectable to go to church. As for her religion, it isn't worthmuch and will hardly stand her at the last day.""Why Mrs. Andrews! You shock me! Have you seen into her heart? Doyou know her purposes? Judge not, that ye be not judged, is thedivine injunction.""A tree is known by its fruit," said Mrs. Andrews, who felt therebuke, and slightly colored."True; and by their fruits shall ye know them," replied the lady."But come, there are too many around us here for this earnestconversation. We will take a quarter of an hour to ourselves in oneof the less crowded rooms. No one will observe our absence, and youwill be freed from the annoyance of these dancers."The two ladies quietly retired from the drawing rooms. As soon asthey were more alone, the last speaker resumed."By their fruits ye shall know them. Do men gather grapes of thorns,or figs of thistles? Let me relate what I saw and heard in thefamilies of two ladies during this protracted meeting. One of theseladies was Mrs. Eldridge. I was passing in her neighborhood aboutfour o'clock, and as I owed her a call, thought the opportunity agood one for returning it. On entering, my ears caught the blendedmusic of a piano, and children's happy voices. From the frontparlor, through the partly opened door, a sight, beautiful to myeyes, was revealed. Mrs. Eldridge was seated at the instrument, hersweet babe asleep on one arm, while, with a single hand, she wastouching the notes of a familiar air, to which four children weredancing. A more innocent, loving, happy group I have never seen. Fornearly ten minutes I gazed upon them unobserved, so interested thatI forgot the questionable propriety of my conduct, and during thattime, not an unkind word was uttered by one of the children, nor didanything occur to mar the harmony of the scene. It was a sight onwhich angels could have looked, nay, did look with pleasure; for,whenever hearts are tuned to good affections, angels are present.The music was suspended, and the dancing ceased, as I presentedmyself. The mother greeted me with a happy smile, and each of thechildren spoke to her visitor with an air at once polite andrespectful."'I've turned nurse for the afternoon, you see,' said Mrs. Eldridge,cheerfully. 'It's Alice's day to go out, and I never like to trustour little ones with the chambermaid, who is n't over fond ofchildren. We generally have a good time on these occasions, for Igive myself up to them entirely. They've read, and played, and toldstories, until tired, and now I've just brightened them up, body andmind, with a dance.'"And bright and happy they all looked."'Now run up into the nursery for a little while, and build blockhouses,' said she, 'while I have a little pleasant talk with myfriend. That's good children. And I want you to be very quiet, fordear little Eddy is fast asleep, and I'm going to lay him in hiscrib.'"Away went the children, and I heard no more of them for the halfhour during which I staid. With the child in her arms, Mrs. Eldridgewent up to her chamber, and I went with her. As she was laying himin the crib, I took from the mantle a small porcelain figure of akneeling child, and was examining it, when she turned to me. 'Verybeautiful,' said I. 'It is,' she replied.--'We call it our Eddy,saying his prayers. There is a history attached to it. Very early Iteach my little ones to say an evening prayer. First impressions arenever wholly effaced; I therefore seek to implant, in the verydawning of thought, an idea of God, and our dependence on him forlife and all our blessings, knowing that, if duly fixed, this ideawill ever remain, and be the vessel, in after years, for thereception of truth flowing down from the great source of all truth.Strangely enough, my little Eddy, so sweet in temper as he was,steadily refused to say his prayers. I tried in every way that Icould think of to induce him to kneel with the other children, andrepeat a few simple words; but not his aversion thereto wasunconquerable. I at last grew really troubled about it. There seemedto be a vein in his character that argued no good. One day I sawthis kneeling child in a store. With the sight of it came thethought of how I might use it. I bought the figure, and did not showit to Eddy until he was about going to bed. The effect was all I hadhoped to produce. He looked at it for some moments earnestly, thendropped on his little knees, clasped his white hands, and murmuredthe prayer I had so long and so vainly striven to make him repeat.'"Tears were in the eyes of Mrs. Eldridge, as she uttered the closingwords. I felt that she was a true mother, and loved her childrenwith a high and holy love. And now, let me give you a picture thatstrongly contrasts with this. Not far from Mrs. Eldridge, resides alady, who is remarkable for her devotion to the church, and, I amcompelled to say, want of charity towards all who happen to differwith her--more particularly, if the difference involves churchmatters. It was after sundown; still being in the neighborhood, Iembraced the opportunity to make a call. On ringing the bell, Iheard, immediately, a clatter of feet down the stairs and along thepassage, accompanied by children's voices, loud and boisterous. Itwas some time before the door was opened, for each of the fourchildren, wishing to perform the office, each resisted the others'attempts to admit the visitor. Angry exclamations, rude outcries,ill names, and struggles for the advantage continued, until thecook, attracted from the kitchen by the noise, arrived at the sceneof contention, and after jerking the children so roughly as to setthe two youngest crying, swung it open, and I entered. On gainingthe parlor, I asked for the mother of these children."'She isn't at home,' said the cook."'She's gone to church,' said the oldest of the children."'I wish she'd stay at home,' remarked cook in a very disrespectfulway, and with a manner that showed her to be much fretted in hermind. 'It's Mary's day out, and she knows I can't do anything withthe children. Such children I never saw! They don't mind a word yousay, and quarrel so among themselves, that it makes one sick to hearthem.'"At this moment a headless doll struck against the side of my neck.It had been thrown by one child at another; missing her aim, shegave me the benefit of her evil intention. At this, cook lost allpatience, and seizing the offending little one, boxed her soundly,before I could interfere. The language used by that child, as sheescaped from the cook's hands, was shocking. It made my flesh creep!"'Did I understand you to say that your mother had gone to church?'I asked of the oldest child."'Yes, ma'am,' was answered. 'She's been every day this week.There's a protracted meeting.'"'Give me that book!' screamed a child, at this moment. Glancingacross the room, I saw two of the little ones contending forpossession of a large family Bible, which lay upon a small table.Before I could reach them, for I started forward, from an impulse ofthe moment, the table was thrown over, the marble top broken, andthe cover torn from the sacred volume."The face of Mrs. Andrews became instantly of a deep crimson. Notseeming to notice this, her friend continued."As the table fell, it came within an inch of striking another childon the head, who had seated himself on the floor. Had it done so, afractured skull, perhaps instant death, would have been theconsequence."Mrs. Andrews caught her breath, and grew very pale. The othercontinued."In the midst of the confusion that followed, the father came home."'Where is your mother?' he asked of one of the children."'Gone to church,' was replied."'O dear!' I can hear his voice now, with its tone ofhopelessness,--'This church-going mania is dreadful. I tell my wifethat it is all wrong. That her best service to God is to bring upher children in the love of what is good and true,--in filialobedience and fraternal affection. But it avails not.'"And now, Mrs. Andrews," continued the lady, not in the leastappearing to notice the distress and confusion of her over-piousfriend, whom she had placed upon the rack, "When God comes to makeup his jewels, and says to Mrs. Eldridge, and also to this motherwho thought more of church-going than of her precious little ones,'Where are the children I gave you?' which do you think will be mostlikely to answer, 'Here they are, not one is lost?'""Have I not clearly shown you that even church-going may beperverted into an evil? That piety may attain an inordinate growth,while charity is dead at the root? Spiritual pride; a vain conceitof superior goodness because of the observance of certain forms andceremonies, is the error into which too many devout religionistsfall. But God sees not as man seeth. He looks into the heart, andjudges his creatures by the motives that rule them."And, as she said this, she arose, the silent and rebuked Mrs.Andrews, whose own picture had been drawn, following her down to thegay drawing rooms.Many a purer heart than that of the humbled Pharisee beat therebeneath the bosoms of happy maidens even though their feet wererising and falling in time to witching melodies.
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