The whole party rose accordingly,and under Mrs Rushworth's guidance were shown through a number of rooms,all lofty,and many large,and amply furnished in the taste of fifty years back,with shining floors,solid mahogany,rich damask,marble,gilding and carving,each handsome in its way.Of pictures there were abundance,and some few good,but the larger part were family portraits,no longer anything to anybody but Mrs Rushworth,who had been at great pains to learn all that the housekeeper could teach,and was now almost equally well qualified to show the house.On the present occasion,she addressed herself chiefly to Miss Crawford and Fanny,but there was no comparison in the willingness of their attention,for Miss Crawford,who had seen scores of great houses,and cared for none of them,had only the appearance of civilly listening,while Fanny,to whom everything was almost as interesting as it was new,attended with unaffected earnestness to all that Mrs Rushworth could relate of the family in former times,its rise and grandeur,regal visits and loyal efforts,delighted to connect anything with history already known,or warm her imagination with scenes of the past.
The situation of the house excluded the possibility of much prospect from any of the rooms,and while Fanny and some of the others were attending Mrs Rushworth,Henry Crawford was looking grave and shaking his head at the windows.Every room on the west front looked across a lawn to the beginning of the avenue immediately beyond tall iron palisades and gates.
Having visited many more rooms than could be supposed to be of any other use than to contribute to the window tax,and find employment for housemaids,‘Now,’said Mrs Rushworth,‘we are coming to the chapel,which properly we ought to enter from above,and look down upon;but as we are quite among friends,I will take you in this way,if you will excuse me.’
They entered.Fanny's imagination had prepared her for something grander than a mere,spacious,oblong room,fitted up for the purpose of devotion-with nothing more striking or more solemn than the profusion of mahogany,and the crimson velvet cushions appearing over the ledge of the family gallery above.‘I am disappointed,’said she,in a low voice,to Edmund.‘This is not my idea of a chapel.There is nothing awful here,nothing melancholy,nothing grand.Here are no aisles,no arches,no inions,no banners.No banners,cousin,to be “blown by the night wind of Heaven.”No signs that a “Scottish monarch sleeps below.”’
‘You forget,Fanny,how lately all this has been built,and for how confined a purpose,compared with the old chapels of castles and monasteries.It was only for the private use of the family.They have been buried,I suppose,in the parish church.There you must look for the banners and the achievements.’
‘It was foolish of me not to think of all that,but I am disappointed.’
Mrs Rushworth began her relation.‘This chapel was fitted up as you see it,in James the Second's time.Before that period,as I understand,the pews were only wainscot;and there is some reason to think that the linings and cushions of the pulpit and family-seat were only purple cloth;but this is not quite certain.It is a handsome chapel,and was formerly in constant use both morning and evening.Prayers were always read in it by the domestic chaplain,within the memory of many.But the late Mr Rushworth left it off.’
‘Every generation has its improvements,’said Miss Crawford,with a smile,to Edmund.
Mrs Rushworth was gone to repeat her lesson to Mr Crawford;and Edmund,Fanny,and Miss Crawford remained in a cluster together.
‘It is a pity,’cried Fanny,‘that the custom should have been discontinued.It was a valuable part of former times.There is something in a chapel and chaplain so much in character with a great house,with one's ideas of what such a household should be!A whole family assembling regularly for the purpose of prayer,is fine!’
‘Very fine indeed!’said Miss Crawford,laughing.‘It must do the heads of the family a great deal of good to force all the poor housemaids and footmen to leave business and pleasure,and say their prayers here twice a day,while they are inventing excuses themselves for staying away.’
‘That is hardly Fanny's idea of a family assembling,’said Edmund.‘If the master and mistress do not attend themselves,there must be more harm than good in the custom.’
‘At any rate,it is safer to leave people to their own devices on such subjects.Everybody likes to go their own way-to choose their own time and manner of devotion.The obligation of attendance,the formality,the restraint,the length of time-altogether it is a formidable thing,and what nobody likes:and if the good people who used to kneel and gape in that gallery could have foreseen that the time would ever come when men and women might lie another ten minutes in bed,when they woke with a headache,without danger of reprobation,because chapel was missed,they would have jumped with joy and envy.Cannot you imagine with what unwilling feelings the former belles of the house of Rushworth did many a time repair to this chapel?The young Mrs Eleanors and Mrs Bridgets-starched up into seeming piety,but with heads full of something very different-especially if the poor chaplain were not worth looking at-and,in those days,I fancy parsons were very inferior even to what they are now.’
