thither to rescue a lost girl. This, Kalender once informed me, was the
true art of making headlines. "Half the world don't read anything but
the headlines," he asserted, "and the other half don't remember anything
else." The story made a sensation which Kalender himself might have
coveted.
That day about noon Mrs. Argand received a call from her counsel, the
Hon. Collis McSheen, who unfolded to her such a diabolical scheme to
injure her property interests in common with those of every other
important property holder in the city, by a wicked Jewish wretch and his
fellow in mischief, who professed to be a preacher of the Gospel in a
chapel which she had largely helped to build for the poor, that between
fright and rage the good lady was scarcely able to wait long enough to
summon the Rev. Dr. Capon to her house. The Hon. Collis did not mention
the fact that one of his own houses was at that moment closed through
the act of this scheming parson, nor that he was beginning to shake over
the idea that the investigation beginning to be set on foot in
consequence of the meddlesomeness of this same person might reach
uncomfortably near his own door, and that he was sensible that a force
was being aroused which he could not control.
Most women trust implicitly in their lawyers, and, curiously enough,
many trust them in their affairs even when they know they are dishonest.
Coll McSheen knew perfectly how to deal with Mrs. Argand. He descanted
eloquently on his duty to the great estate she represented and his pride
in her admirable management of it. One of the great fountains of charity
was in danger.
The Reverend Doctor Bartholomew Capon visited his parishioner and was
quite as much upset as she herself was over the information received
from Mr. McSheen. Dr. Capon had but an indifferent opinion of Mr.
McSheen. He knew him to be by repute a protector of evildoers, a man of
loose morals and low instincts, but he was a man of power of the brute
kind and of keen insight into the grosser conditions. And his views as
to the effect on property of any movement in the city were entitled to
great respect, and property, to the doctor's mind, was undoubtedly a
divine institution. Moreover, a Jew who assailed it must have some
ulterior design. And to think of his having been permitted to speak in
his chapel! So Dr. Capon returned to his home much displeased with his
assistant and, sitting down, wrote him a note immediately.
This note John Marvel received next morning in his mail. It ran as
follows:
"Mr. Marvel will call at the rector's office to-morrow, Tuesday, at
11.30 promptly.
"(Signed) BARTHOLOMEW CAPON, D.D.,
"_Rector_, etc., etc."
The tone of the note struck even John Marvel and he immediately brought
it over to me. We both agreed that the doctor must have read the account
of the raid on Madam Snow's and of his presence there when the officers
arrived, and we decided that, notwithstanding the curtness of the
summons, it was due to John himself to go and make a simple statement of
the matter. We felt indeed that the interview might result in awakening
the living interest of Dr. Capon in the work on which we had embarked
and securing the co-operation not only of himself but of the powerful
organization which he represented as rector of a large church. Dr. Capon
was not a difficult man; in his own way, which was the way of many
others, he tried to do good. He was only a worldly man and a narrow man.
He felt that his mission was to the rich. He knew them better than the
poor and liked them better. The poor had so much done for them, why
should not he look after the rich? Like Simon, he believed that there
was a power in money which was unlimited.
At 11.30 promptly John Marvel presented himself in the front room of the
building attached to the church, in one corner of which was the rector's
roomy office. A solemn servant was in waiting who took in his name,
closing the door silently behind him, and after a minute returned and
silently motioned John Marvel to enter. Dr. Capon was seated at his desk
with a number of newspapers before him, and in response to John's "Good
morning," he simply said, "Be seated," with a jerk of his head toward a
chair which was placed at a little distance from him, and John took the
seat, feeling, as he afterward told me, much as he used to feel when a
small boy, when he was called up by a teacher and set down in a chair
for a lecture. The rector shuffled his newspapers in a sudden little
accession of excitement, taking off his gold-rimmed glasses and putting
them on again, and then taking up one, he turned to John.
"Mr. Marvel, I am astonished at you--I am simply astounded that you
should have so far forgotten yourself and what was due to your orders as
to have done what I read in this sheet and what the whole press is
ringing with."
"Well, sir," said John, who had by this time gotten entire control of
himself, and felt completely at ease in the consciousness of his
innocence and of his ability to prove it. "I am not surprised that you
should be astounded unless you knew the facts of the case."
"What facts, sir?" demanded Dr. Capon sternly. "Facts! There is but one
fact to be considered--that you have violated a fundamental canon."
"Yes, I knew it would look so, and I had intended to come yesterday to
consult you as to the best method----"
"It is a pity you had not done so--that you allowed your sense of duty
to be so obscured as to forget what was due alike to me and to your
sacred vows."
"But I was very much engaged," pursued John, "with matters that appeared
to me of much greater importance than anything relating to my poor
self."
"Oh!" exclaimed the rector. "Cease! Cease your pretences! Mr. Marvel,
your usefulness is ended. Sign that paper!"
He picked up and held out to him with a tragic air a paper which he had
already prepared before John Marvel's arrival. John's mind had for the
moment become a blank to some extent under the unexpected attack, and it
was a mechanical act by which his eye took in the fact that the paper
thrust into his hand was a resignation declaring that it was made on
the demand of the rector for reasons stated which rendered it imperative
that he sever his connection with that parish.
"I will not sign that paper," said John quietly.
"You will not what?" The rector almost sprang out of his chair.
"I will not sign that paper."
"And pray, why not?"
"Because it places me in the position of acknowledging a charge which,
even if true, has not been specifically stated, and which is not true
whatever the appearances may be, as I can readily prove."
"Not true?" the rector exclaimed. "Is it not true that you allowed a Jew
to speak in your church, in my chapel?"
"That I did what?" asked John, amazed at the unexpected discovery of the
rector's reason.
"That you invited and permitted a man named Wolffert, a socialistic Jew,
to address a congregation in my chapel?"
"It is true," said John Marvel, "that I invited Mr. Wolffert to speak to
an assemblage in the chapel under my charge, and that he did so speak
there."
"Uttering the most dangerous and inflammatory doctrines--doctrines alike
opposed to the teaching of the church and to the command of the law?"
"That is not true," said John. "You have been misinformed."
"I do not wish or propose to discuss either this or any other matter
with you, Mr. Marvel. You have allowed a Jew to speak in the house of
God. Your usefulness is ended. You will be good enough to sign this
paper, for you may rest assured that I know my rights and shall maintain
them."
"No, I will not sign this paper," said John Marvel, "but I will resign.
Give me a sheet of paper."
The rector handed him a sheet, and John drew up a chair to the desk and
wrote his resignation in a half-dozen words and handed it to the rector.
"Is that accepted?" he asked quietly.
"It is." The rector laid the sheet on his desk and then turned back to
John Marvel. "And now, Mr. Marvel, allow me to say that you grossly, I
may say flagitiously, violated the trust I reposed in you when----"
John Marvel held up his hand. "Stop! Not one word more from you. I am no
longer your assistant. I have stood many things from you because I
believed it was my duty to stand them, so long as I was in a position
where I could be of service, and because I felt it my duty to obey you
as my superior officer, but now that this connection is severed, I wish
to say that I will not tolerate one more word or act of insolence from
you."
"Insolence?" cried the rector. "Insolence? You are insolent yourself,
sir. You do not know the meaning of the term."
"Oh! Yes, I know it," said John, who had cooled down after his sudden
outbreak. "I have had cause to know it. I have been your assistant for
two years. I bid you good morning, Dr. Capon." He turned and walked out,
leaving the rector speechless with rage.
I do not mean in relating Dr. Capon's position in this interview to make
any charge against others who might honestly hold the same view which he
held as to the propriety of John Marvel's having requested Leo Wolffert
to speak in his church, however much I myself might differ from that
view, and however I might think in holding it they are tithing the mint,
anise, and cumin, and overlooking the weightier matters of the law. My
outbreak of wrath, when John Marvel told me of his interview with the
rector, was due, not to the smallness of the rector's mind, but to the
simple fact that he selected this as the basis of his charge, when in
truth it was overshadowed in his mind by the fact that Leo Wolffert's
address had aroused the ire of one of his leading parishioners, and that
the doctor was thus guilty of a sham in bringing his charge, not because
of the address, but because of the anger of his wealthy parishioner.
Wolffert was savage in his wrath when he learned how John had been
treated. "Your church is the church of the rich," he said to me; for he
would not say it to John. And when I defended it and pointed to its work
done among the poor, to its long line of faithful devoted workers, to
its apostles and martyrs, to John Marvel himself, he said: "Don't you
see that Dr. Caiaphas is one of its high-priests and is turning out its
prophets? I tell you it will never prosper till he is turned out and the
people brought in! Your Church is the most inconsistent in the world,
and I wonder they do not see it. Its Head, whom it considers divine and
worships as God, lived and died in a continual war against formalism
and sacerdotalism, it was the foundation of all his teaching for which
he finally suffered death at the hands of the priests. The imperishable
truth in that teaching is that God is within you, and to be worshipped
'in spirit' and in truth; that not the temple made with hands, but the
temple of the body is the one temple, and that the poor are his chosen
people--the poor in heart are his loved disciples; yet your priests
arrogate to themselves all that he suffered to overthrow. Your Dr. Capon
is only Dr. Caiaphas, with a few slight changes, and presumes to
persecute the true disciples precisely as his predecessors persecuted
their master."
"He is not my Dr. Capon," I protested.
"Oh! well, he is the representative of the ecclesiasticism that
crucifies spiritual freedom and substitutes form for substance. He
'makes broad his phylacteries and for a pretence makes long prayers.'"
"It appears to me that you are very fond of quoting the Bible, for an
unbeliever," I said.
"I, an unbeliever! I, a Jew!" exclaimed Wolffert, whose eyes were
sparkling. "My dear sir, I am the believer of the ages--I only do not
believe that any forms established by men are necessary to bring men
into communion with God--I refuse to believe selfishness, and arrogance,
and blindness, when they step forth with bell, book, and candle, and
say, obey us, or be damned. I refuse to worship a ritual, or a church. I
will worship only God." He turned away with that detached air which has
always struck me as something oriental.
As soon as it became known in his old parish that John had resigned he
was called back there; but the solicitations of his poor parishioners
that he should not abandon them in their troubles prevailed, and
Wolffert and I united in trying to show him that his influence now was
of great importance. Indeed, the workers among the poor of every church
came and besought him to remain. Little Father Tapp, patting him on the
shoulder, said, "Come to us, John, the Holy Father will make you a
bishop." So he remained with his people and soon was given another small
chapel under a less fashionable and more spiritual rector. I think
Eleanor Leigh had something to do with his decision. I know that she was
so urgent for him to remain that both Dr. Capon and I were given food
for serious thought.
XXXIII
THE PEACE-MAKER
It was in this condition of affairs that a short time after John Marvel
had been dismissed from his cure by his incensed rector, a great dinner
was given by Mrs. Argand which, because of the lavishness of the display
and the number of notable persons in the city who were present, and also
because of a decision that was reached by certain of the guests at the
dinner and the consequences which it was hoped might ensue therefrom,
was fully written up in the press. If Mrs. Argand knew one thing well,
it was how to give an entertainment which should exceed in its
magnificence the entertainment of any other person in the city. She was
a woman of great wealth. She had had a large experience both at home and
abroad in entertainments whose expenditure remained traditional for
years. She had learned from her husband the value, as a merely
commercial venture, of a fine dinner. She knew the traditional way to
men's hearts, and she felt that something was due to her position, and
at the same time she received great pleasure in being the centre and the
dispenser of a hospitality which should be a wonder to all who knew her.
Her house with its great rooms and galleries filled with expensive
pictures lent itself well to entertainment. And Mrs. Argand, who knew
something of history, fancied that she had what quite approached a
salon. To be sure, those who frequented it were more familiar with
stock-exchanges and counting-houses than with art or literature. On this
occasion she had assembled a number of the leading men of affairs in the
city, with the purpose not so much of entertaining them, as of securing
from them a co-operation, which, by making a show of some concession to
the starving strikers and their friends, should avail to stop the steady
loss in her rents and drain on even her great resources. She had already
found herself compelled, by reason of the reduction in her income, which
prevented her putting by as large a surplus as she had been accustomed
to put by year by year, to cut off a number of her charities, and this
she disliked to do, for she not only regretted having to cut down her
outlay for the relief of suffering, but it was a blow to her pride to
feel that others knew that her income was reduced.
The idea of the dinner had been suggested by no less a person than Dr.
Capon himself, to whom the happy thought had occurred that possibly if a
huge mass meeting composed of the strikers could be assembled in some
great auditorium, and addressed by the leading men in the city, they
might be convinced of the folly and error of their ways and induced to
reject the false teaching of their designing leaders and return to work,
by which he argued the great suffering would be immediately reduced, the
loss alike to labor and to capital would be stopped, peace would be
restored, and the general welfare be tremendously advanced. Moreover, he
would show that his removal of his assistant was not due to his
indifference to the poor as Wolffert had charged in a biting paper on
the episode, but to a higher motive. What John Marvel had tried on a
small scale he would accomplish on a vast one. He would himself, he
said, take pleasure in addressing such an audience, and he felt sure
that they would listen to the friendly admonition of a minister of the
Gospel, who could not but stand to them as the representative of charity
and divine compassion.
I will not attempt to describe the richness of the floral decorations
which made Mrs. Argand's great house a bower of roses and orchids for
the occasion, nor the lavish display of plate, gilded and ungilded,
which loaded the great table, all of which was set forth in the press
the following day with a lavishness of description and a wealth of
superlatives quite equal to the display at the dinner; nor need I take
time to describe the guests who were assembled. Mr. Leigh, who was
invited, was not present, but expressed himself as ready to meet his men
half-way. Every viand not in season was in the ménu. It was universally
agreed by the guests that no entertainment which was recalled had ever
been half so rich in its decorations or so regal in its display or so
sumptuous in its fare; that certainly the same number of millions had
never been represented in any private house in this city, or possibly,
in any city of the country. It remains only to be said that the plan
proposed by the Rev. Dr. Capon met with the approval of a sufficient
number to secure an attempt at its adoption, though the large majority
of the gentlemen present openly expressed their disbelief that any good
whatever would come of such an attempt, and more than one frankly
declared that the doctor was attempting to sprinkle rose-water when
really what was actually needed were guns and bayonets. The doctor,
however, was so urgent in the expression of his views, so certain that
the people would be reasonable and could not fail to be impressed by a
kindly expression of interest, and the sound advice of one whom they
must recognize as their friend, that a half-derisive consent was given
to a trial of his plan.
Among the notices of this dinner was one which termed it "Belshazzar's
Feast," and as such it became known in the workingmen's quarter. Its
scorching periods described the Babylonian splendor of the entertainment
provided for the officials of millionairedom, and pictured with simple
art the nakedness of a hovel not five blocks away, in which an old man
and an old woman had been found that day frozen to death. I recognized
in it the work of Wolffert's virile pen. John Marvel might forgive Dr.
Capon, but not Wolffert Dr. Caiaphas. The proposed meeting, however,
excited much interest in all circles of the city, especially in that
underlying circle of the poor whose circumference circumscribed and
enclosed all other circles whatsoever. What was, indeed, of mere
interest to others was of vital necessity to them, that some arrangement
should be arrived at by which work should once more be given to the
ever-increasing body of the unemployed, whose sombre presence darkened
the brightest day and tinged with melancholy the fairest expectation. In
furtherance of Dr. Capon's plan a large hall was secured, and a general
invitation was issued to the public, especially to the workingmen of the
section where the strike existed, to attend a meeting set for the
earliest possible moment, an evening in the beginning of the next week.
The meeting took place as advertised and the attendance exceeded all
expectation. The heart of the poor beat with renewed hope, though, like
their wealthy neighbors, many of them felt that the hope was a desperate
one. Still they worked toward the single ray of light which penetrated
into the gloom of their situation.
The seats were filled long before the hour set for the meeting and every
available foot of standing room was occupied, the corridors of the
building were filled, and the streets outside were thronged with groups
discussing the possibility of some settlement in low and earnest tones,
broken now and then by some strident note of contention or sullen growl
of hate. Knowing the interest in the movement throughout the quarter
where I lived, and having some curiosity besides to hear what Coll
McSheen and the Rev. Dr. Capon had to say, I went early in company with
Wolffert and John Marvel, the former of whom was absolutely sceptical,
the latter entirely hopeful of permanent results. Wolffert's eyes glowed
with a deep but lambent flame as he spoke of "Dr. Caiaphas." On arrival
at the hall he left us and moved to the front rows. The crowd on the
platform represented the leaders in many departments of business in the
city, among whom were a fair sprinkling of men noted for their
particular interest in all public charities and good works, and in a
little group to one side, a small body composed of the more conservative
element among the leaders of the workingmen in the city. The whole
affair had been well worked up and on the outside it gave a fair promise
of success. A number of boxes were filled with ladies interested in the
movement and I had not been in the hall five minutes before I discovered
Eleanor Leigh in one of the boxes, her face grave, but her eyes full of
eager expectation. It was with a sinking of the heart that I reflected
on the breach between us, and I fear that I spent my time much more in
considering how I should overcome it than in plans to relieve the
distress of others.
The meeting opened with an invocation by the Rev. Dr. Capon, which
appeared to strike some of the assemblage as somewhat too eloquent,
rather too long, and tinged with an expression of compassion for the
ignorance and facility for being misguided of the working class. When he
began the assemblage was highly reverent, when he ended there were
murmurs of criticism and discussion audible throughout the hall. The
introductory statement of the reason for the call was made by the Hon.
Collis McSheen, who, as mayor of the city, lent the dignity of his
presence to the occasion. It was long, eloquent, and absolutely silent
as to his views on any particular method of settlement of the question
at issue, but it expressed his sympathy with all classes in terms
highly general and concluded with an impartial expression of advice that
they should get together, provided all could get what they wanted, which
appeared to him the easiest thing in the world to do. Following him, one
of the magnates of the city, Mr. James Canter, Sr., delivered a brief
business statement of the loss to the city and the community at large,
growing out of the strike, expressed in figures which had been carefully
collated, and closed with the emphatic declaration that the working
people did not know what they wanted. One other thing he made plain,
that in a strike the working people suffered most, which was a
proposition that few persons in the hall were prepared to deny. Then
came the Rev. Dr. Capon, who was manifestly the chief speaker for the
occasion. His manner was graceful and self-assured, his voice sonorous
and well modulated, and his tone was sympathetic, if somewhat too
patronizing. His first sentences were listened to with attention. He
expressed his deep sympathy somewhat as the mayor had done, but in
better English and more modulated tones, with all classes, especially
with the working people. A slight cough appeared to have attacked one
portion of the audience, but it stopped immediately, and silence once
more fell on the assemblage as he proceeded.
"And now," he said, as he advanced a step nearer to the edge of the
platform, and, having delivered himself of his preliminary expressions
of condolence, threw up his head and assumed his best pulpit manner,
"under a full sense of my responsibility to my people and my country I
wish to counsel you as your friend, as the friend of the poor"--the
slight cough I have mentioned became audible again--"as the friend of
the workingman whose interests I have so deeply at heart."
At this moment a young man who had taken a seat well to the front on the
main aisle, rose in his seat and politely asked if the doctor would
allow him to ask him a question, the answer to which he believed would
enable the audience to understand his position better. The pleasant tone
of the young man led the doctor to give permission, and also the young
man's appearance, for it was Wolffert.
"Certainly, my dear sir," he said.
Wolffert suddenly held up in his hand a newspaper.
"I wish," he said, "to ask you where you dined last Friday night; with
whom?"