“Mr. Worden is a very companionable man, and is excellent company at a supper-table. I will communicate your invitation, and hope to be able to prevail on him to be of the party.”
“T’at is enough, sir,” returned Ten Eyck, or Guert, as I shall henceforth call him, in general; “vere dere ist a vill, dere ist a vay.” Guert frequently broke out in such specimens of broken English, while at other times he would speak almost as well as any of us. “So Got pless you my dear Mr. Littlepage, and make us lasting friends. I like your countenance, and my eye never deceives me in these matters.”
Here, Guert shook us both by the hand again, most cordially, and left us. Dirck and I next strolled up the hill, going as high as the English church, which stood also in the centre of the principal street, an imposing and massive edifice in stone. With the exception of Mother Trinity, in New York, this was the largest, and altogether the most important edifice devoted to the worship of my own church I had ever seen. In Westchester, there were several of Queen Anne’s churches, but none on a scale to compare with this. Our small edifices were usually without galleries, steeples, towers, or bells; while St. Peter’s, Albany, if not actually St. Peter’s, Rome, was a building of which a man might be proud. A little to our surprise, we found the Rev. Mr. Worden and Mr. Jason Newcome had met at the door of this edifice, having sent a boy to the sexton in quest of the key. In a minute or two, the urchin returned, bringing not only the key of the church, but the excuses of the sexton for not coming himself. The door was opened, and we went in.
I have always admired the decorous and spiritual manner in which the Rev. Mr. Worden entered a building that had been consecrated to the services of the Deity. I know not how to describe it; but it proved how completely he had been drilled in the decencies of his profession. Off came his hat, of course; and his manner, however facetious and easy it may have been the moment before, changed on the instant to gravity and decorum. Not so with Jason. He entered St. Peter’s, Albany, with exactly the same indifferent and cynical air with which he had seemed to regard everything but money, since he entered “York Colony.” Usually, he wore his cocked-hat on the back of his head, thereby lending himself a lolloping, negligent, and, at the same time, defying air; but I observed that, as we all uncovered, he brought his own beaver up over his eye-brows, in a species of military bravado. To uncover to a church, in his view of the matter, was a sort of idolatry; there might be images about, for anything he knew; “and a man could never be enough on his guard ag’in being carried away by such evil deceptions,” as he had once before answered to a remonstrance of mine, for wearing his hat in our own parish church.
I found the interior of St. Peter’s quite as imposing as its exterior. Three of the pews were canopied, having coats of arms on their canopies. These, the boy told us, belonged to the Van Rensselaer and Schuyler families. All these were covered with black cloth, in mourning for some death in those ancient families, which were closely allied. I was very much struck with the dignified air that these patrician seats gave the house of God. 21
There were also several hatchments suspended against the walls; some being placed there in commemoration of officers of rank, from home, who had died in the king’s service in the colony; and others to mark the deaths of some of the more distinguished of our own people.
Mr. Worden expressed himself well pleased with appearances of things, in and about this building; though Jason regarded all with ill-concealed disgust.
“What is the meaning of them pews with tops to them, Corny?” the pedagogue whispered me, afraid to encounter the parson’s remarks, by his own criticism.
“They are the pews of families of distinction in this place, Mr. Newcome; and the canopies, or tops, as you call them, are honourable signs of their owners’ conditions.”
“Do you think their owners will sit under such coverings in paradise, Corny?” continued Jason, with a sneer.
“It is impossible for me to say, sir; it is probable, however, the just will not require any such mark to distinguish them from the unjust.”
“Let me see,” said Jason, looking round and affecting to count; “there are just three—Bishop, Priest, and Deacon, I suppose. Waal, there’s a seat for each, and they can be comfortable here, whatever may turn up herea’ter.”
I turned away, unwilling to dispute the point, for I knew it was as hopeless to expect that a Danbury man would feel like a New Yorker, on such a subject, as it was to expect that a New Yorker could be made to adopt Danbury sentiments. As for the argument, however, I have heard others of pretty much the same calibre often urged against the three orders of the ministry.
On quitting St. Peter’s, I communicated the invitation of Guert Ten Eyck to Mr. Worden, and urged him to be of the party. I could see that the notion of a pleasant supper was anything but unpleasant to the missionary. Still he had his scruples, inasmuch as he had not yet seen his reverend brother who had the charge of St. Peter’s, did not know exactly the temper of his mind, and was particularly desirous of officiating for him, in the presence of the principal personages of the place, on the approaching Sunday. He had written a note to the chaplain; for the person who had the cure of the Episcopalians held that rank in the army, St. Peter’s being as much of an official chapel as a parish church; and he must have an interview with that individual before he could decide. Fortunately, as we descended the street, towards our inn, we saw the very person in question. The marks of the common office that these two divines bore about their persons in their dress, sufficed to make them known to each other at a glance. In five minutes, they had shaken hands, heard each man’s account of himself, had given and accepted the invitation to preach, and were otherwise on free and easy terms. Mr. Worden was to dine in the fort, with the chaplain. We then walked forward towards the tavern.
“By the way, Mr. ——,” said Mr. Worden, in a parenthesis of the discourse, “the family of Ten Eyck is quite respectable, here in Albany.”
“Very much so, sir—a family that is held in much esteem. I shall count on your assisting me, morning and evening, my dear Mr. Worden.”
It is surprising how the clergy do depend on each other for ‘assistance!’
“Make your arrangements accordingly, my good brother—I am quite fresh, and have brought a good stock of sermons; not knowing how much might remain to be done in the army. Corny,” in a half-whisper, “you can let our new friends know that I will sup with them; and, harkee—just drop a hint to them, that I am none of your puritans.”
Here, then, we found everything in a very fair way to bring us all out in society, within the first two hours of our arrival. Mr. Worden was engaged to preach the next day but one; and he was engaged to supper that same day. All looked promising, and I hurried on in order to ascertain if Guert Ten Eyck had made his promised call. As before, he was met in the street, and the acceptance of the Dominie was duly communicated. Guert seemed highly pleased at this success; and he left me, promising to be punctual to his hour. In the mean time, we had to dine.
The dinner proved a good one; and, as Mr. Worden remarked, it was quite lucky that the principal dish was venison, a meat that was so easy of digestion, as to promise no great obstacle to the accommodation of the supper. He should dine on venison, therefore; and he advised all three of us to follow his example. But, certain Dutch dishes attracted the eye and taste of Dirck; while Jason had alighted on a hash, of some sort or other, that he did not quit until he had effectually disposed of it. As for myself, I confess, the venison was so much to my taste, that I stuck by the parson. We had our wine, too, and left the table early, in order not to interfere with the business of the night.
After dinner, it was proposed to walk out in a body, to make a further examination of the place, and to see if we could not fall in with an army contractor, who might be disposed to relieve Dirck and myself of some portion of our charge. Luck again threw us in the way of Guert Ten Eyck, who seemed to live in the public street. In the course of a brief conversation that took place, as a passing compliment, I happened to mention a wish