1819-20
THE SKETCH BOOK
THE COUNTRY CHURCH
by Washington Irving
A gentleman!
What, o'the woolpack? or the sugar-chest?
Or lists of velvet? which is't, pound, or yard,
You vend your gentry by?
BEGGAR'S BUSH.
THERE are few places more favorable to the study of character than
an English country church. I was once passing a few weeks at the
seat of a friend, who resided in the vicinity of one, the appearance
of which particularly struck my fancy. It was one of those rich
morsels of quaint antiquity which give such a peculiar charm to
English landscape. It stood in the midst of a country filled with
ancient families, and contained, within its cold and silent aisles,
the congregated dust of many noble generations. The interior walls
were incrusted with monuments of every age and style. The light
streamed through windows dimmed with armorial bearings, richly
emblazoned in stained glass. In various parts of the church were tombs
of knights, and high-born dames, of gorgeous workmanship, with their
effigies in colored marble. On every side the eye was struck with some
instance of aspiring mortality; some haughty memorial which human
pride had erected over its kindred dust, in this temple of the most
humble of all religions.
The congregation was composed of the neighboring people of rank, who
sat in pews, sumptuously lined and cushioned, furnished with
richly-gilded prayer-books, and decorated with their arms upon the pew
doors; of the villagers and peasantry, who filled the back seats,
and a small gallery beside the organ; and of the poor of the parish,
who were ranged on benches in the aisles.
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