MRS. JUDSON DISTRIBUTES THE FUNDS.
The party down-stairs, though considered by the lady of the house as an
unceremonious affair, proved in every way successful. A great deal of
philanthropy had been discussed, with the terrapin and chicken-salad at
the supper-table. At each stage of the refreshments some narrator
reached a mission station in India, or descanted on the enormous good
some female enthusiast had done in travelling twice to Jerusalem and
back again. These things, it is true, were in many instances whispered
over in the sweetest of low voices, after a fashion that might have been
mistaken for flirtations in persons of less exalted piety; but no
suspicion of that kind could rest here; the very looking-glasses in that
superb drawing-room would have veiled their faces from a reflection so
undignified and improper. Early that week, there had been a grand
charity ball at the Opera-House, and all the ladies who had acted as
patronesses were expecting a division of the spoils in bulky rolls of
bank-notes to be distributed by each one at her own especial pleasure.
These ladies were mostly from the highest fashionable circles; persons
who loved to play lady-bountiful with other people’s money, and be
glorified therefor, as if the thing had been a real charity; and why
not? The Opera-House had trembled from floor to dome under the tread of
worldly dancers, from whom so much money had been rescued, like brands
from the burning. Even the religious women, who represented various
moral societies in that room, admitted this. Why should they hesitate to
distribute it among their own humble followers, and receive gratitude
therefor. Money snatched from the Evil One must be doubly grateful to
the Lord.
There was Mrs. Brown, a shining light in “The Society for the
Suppression of Vice.” Mrs. Green, who headed a Home Mission; and Mrs.
Ward, a lady who could deliver more tracts in a given number of hours,
than any other female known to the Society; besides lesser lights who
hummed and smiled and buzzed about these luminaries, like moths around a
candle, to say nothing of some half dozen very silent and subdued men
who belonged to the domestic circle of these ladies, and watched them
afar off, without having any great desire to come nearer, or claim the
glory of one common name.
Mrs. Judson herself was a magnificent type of this class; a pillar of
strength—the salt of the earth—an angel of mercy, and all that sort of
thing, was the stately lady of that stately house. No wonder her
followers thought so, for she moved among them like an empress, subdued
and thoughtful over the shortcomings of her fellow-creatures. The heavy
moire-antique had a solemn rustle in it, and the filmy bow that should
have fallen like a gossamer on her head, looked stiff and hard when it
came in contact with her face. In her person this lady embodied the two
social elements that surrounded her. She was religiously fashionable and
fashionably religious—stooping down to the good souls that worked out
their own charities, with sublime condescension, and sweeping her
transcendent virtues through the walks of the upper ten thousand with
wonderful effect. This evening Mrs. Judson was surrounded by her
worshippers from both stratas of social life; no wonder her somewhat
faded cheeks grew red and her bearing more stately. Was she not at that
hour about to distribute a large sum of money partly won by her own
great social influence? Had not that incongruous assembly mingled and
harmonized around her from the cohesion of this gold, rescued from the
wickedness of a ball-room? In their pious enthusiasm had they not forced
contributions from the worldliness of the worldly? Heartless people had
danced and flirted, drank wine and eaten daintily, that she might carry
the results to the foot-stool of the Lord, and with a hand on her heart,
thank Him that she was not like those people.
Mrs. Judson felt all this to the innermost recesses of her heart, as she
stood at one end of the room conversing with Mrs. Brown, who was
solemnly pleading the cause of her society, and impressing upon the
lady-bountiful, that, inasmuch as sin was the parent of want, the
charity should follow it double-handed; that, in wrestling with the
monster, the strength of money must be added to the sanctity of prayer;
in fact, the lady insinuated that without money in this case, prayer had
not the efficacy which could be desired. It was well enough for starving
people to have food; she did not object to that, but how much more
important it was that perishing souls should be rescued as brands from
the burning. Ah, if Mrs. Judson could only see what the Society had gone
through: the depths of sin to which they had descended in search of
souls; the trouble they had experienced in reforming them sufficiently
for a glowing report, and the grief with which they had seen them fall
back; still, there was one thing encouraging. These backsliders could
generally be depended upon to reform again about the time a new report
was demanded by the country members, and, as names were owned very
promiscuously, that document was usually full of promise, hope, and
satisfactory words. Still, the great need was money—money. Mrs. Brown
only wished that she had eloquence necessary for a thorough
understanding of the good her Society had already done.
Here the two ladies were joined by Mrs. Brown’s husband, a tall, thin
man, with weak eyes, and an air of subserviency that would have been
edifying had Mrs. Judson been a woman worthy of human worship.
“You were speaking of our own little mission, my love,” said the
husband, deprecatingly. “Speaking with your own unvarying
self-abnegation—always her way, dear madam. In order to know what that
lovely woman is capable of, you should be with her night and day, as I
am, in her laboring among the poor, fallen creatures, who often give
back reviling for mercy. Working in season and out of season, waking up
in the night and weeping floods of precious tears over the sins of her
fellow-creatures. Ah! madam, to know her, you should be her shadow as I
am.”
If Mrs. Judson had been capable of enjoying the ridiculous, she might
have laughed heartily at this harangue which was measured off exactly as
Mr. Brown would have preached a sermon.
“My dear, you are too enthusiastic,” interposed Mrs. Brown, tightening
the elastic of her glove; “all that I can do will be but a drop in the
bucket—an humble instrument, madam, seeking for the means of greater
usefulness. It is painful, humiliating, that money should be so needed
in the service of the Lord. I sometimes wonder how the apostles got
along without it. It seems to me that no sinner will reform without
bringing a heavy expense on the Society. Then it costs so much to bring
them back when they return to the mire after we have brought them out,
and made them clean.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Brown, softly rubbing his palms together, “the numbers
that I can testify to, made holy and pure almost by looking at this
inestimable creature! Madam, she is a woman in ten thousand. I find her
the meet companion for a perfect Christian.”
“Mrs. Brown is too well known for me to question anything you can say in
her favor,” answered Mrs. Judson, with lofty patronage in her look and
manner.
“But the importance of her mission over all others—the sacrifice, the
prayers, the necessity for abundant means, every cent of which is sure
to redound to the glory of God, through her hands,—have you thought
prayerfully of that, dear lady?” continued Mr. Brown, growing sharp and
eager in his eloquence. “Why, one dollar in that woman’s hands will go
further in saving immortal souls than ten, through some channels that I
might speak of. Do not suppose I refer to the distribution of books or
the writers thereof; far be it from me to disparage the usefulness of
Mrs. Brown’s friends, but when large sums of money are to be
distributed—hem, ahem!”
Here Mr. Brown cut off his sentence ignominiously, for little Mrs. Green
came bustling up, holding her handkerchief and fan as if they had been a
bunch of tracts which she was bound to deliver at a moment’s notice.
“Ah! here you are, ardent in the good work, faithful among the faithful.
Dear Mrs. Brown, what a treasure you have in this excellent man; some
one to strengthen your hands, while I—”
Here Mrs. Green lifted two plump hands, cased in a pair of over-tight
gloves, and shook her head mournfully, indicating a great loss, or want,
perhaps both; for the lady had lost her shadow two years before, and her
grief had already reached the silver-gray stage of consolation.
“Yes,” replied Mrs. Brown, wringing her hands, “I really should not know
what to do without him. So occupied as I am with this heavenly work,
there is great necessity that some trustworthy person should be at home
and see to things there. Ah, yes! Mr. Brown is invaluable.”
Mr. Brown put one hand on his heart and bent nearly double in the
humility of his gratitude.
“See her! hear her!” he said; “always depreciating herself and exalting
others. If ever there was a pattern, Mrs. Judson, a pattern,—well, my
dear, I forbear; the blushes on that cheek shall always be sacred to
your husband. I forbear.”
Here Mr. Brown waved his handkerchief twice while lifting it to his
face, and retreated gracefully, walking backward.
“Ah!” whimpered Mrs. Green, “it would be such a pleasure to witness a
scene like this but for the memories it brings. There was a time when I,
even I,—but the thought is too much, excuse me.”
Here the little woman drew a tiny handkerchief from her pocket; but as
neither of the ladies seemed much impressed, thought better of it, and
did not cry at all. If Mr. Brown had remained, perhaps it might have
been otherwise.
“Private griefs, however acute, must give way to public duties. Mrs.
Judson, you will never believe how many thousands and thousands of
tracts I have delivered from door to door when my heart was swelling
with anguish. It was a relief; yes, I must confess, it was a relief.”
Mrs. Green unfolded her little handkerchief, and shook it out as if she
still meditated a few tears; but Mrs. Brown took her up with such vigor
that she forgot all about it.
“You are right; such duties are a relief. But when you have money to
raise, applications for help crowding on you, obligations to take up, in
short, when you are called upon to accomplish a great work with
insufficient means, as I was about to explain to Mrs. Judson, there is
great need of Christian fortitude to carry one through.”
“But I do have such trouble, madam,” answered Mrs. Green, firing up in
behalf of her especial mission. “You don’t suppose that tracts are
printed without money. Why, this moment our Society is in debt, kept
back from entire usefulness, for the want of means; we are poor,
absolutely poor; but for the generous aid we expect from this charity
ball of which Mrs. Judson is a patroness, and, I must say, an ornament,
we should have been dreadfully crippled.”
Here Mrs. Brown seated herself and used her fan with emphasis.
“Really,” she said, looking at Mrs. Judson, “the cause of the Lord is
beset with difficulties. It seems to me that every society in New York,
chartered or private, is coming upon us. At this rate, fifty balls would
hardly count. I am discouraged.”
Mrs. Green flushed scarlet, but Mrs. Judson merely waved her fan a
little quicker.
“There will be a great many private charities to meet. Each of the lady
patronesses has a list,” she said quietly.
“Yes, I have heard so,” Mrs. Brown retorted; “women who have done them
services either as toadies or favorites. That is understood among the
knowing ones.”
“Madam!”
Mrs. Judson seemed at least three inches taller than she had been a
moment before, and her moire-antique rustled ominously in all its
voluminous folds.
“I hear,” said Mrs. Brown, in no way daunted, “that there is not the
president of a single moral reform or really benevolent society on the
committee.”
“I believe not,” answered Mrs. Judson with cold dignity; “but there is
no reason why any or all of these societies should not unite and raise
all the funds they can. We certainly do not prevent them.”
“Certainly not! certainly not!” said Mrs. Green, who was determined on
securing whatever was to be attained by flattery and persuasion. “Only,
you know, it would be useless to attempt it, after your brilliant
success; what could we do but creep after you at a very humble distance?
The truth is, we must depend on the country,—there our reports have a
beautiful effect,—and upon the justice of your committee, all composed
of ladies lifted beyond the idea of favoritism.”
This soothing speech brought down Mrs. Judson’s ruffled pride, and she
bent her head in acknowledgment of Mrs. Green’s good opinion.
“The ladies have striven to divide this money in a way that will secure
the greatest good,” she said.
“What greater good can there be than the redemption of an immortal
soul!” quoth Mrs. Brown, implacable in her belief that all the other
societies represented in that room were bent on committing some fraud
upon her. “What shall it profit a man though he gain the whole world and
lose his own soul?”
“Very true,” answered Mrs. Judson. “Very true indeed. Now, shall we walk
into the other room, ladies?—representative ladies, I mean. The money
has, I trust, been impartially apportioned between charitable societies
and private claimants.”
“Private claimants,” muttered Mrs. Brown. “I should like to know who
they are.”
“Hush, dearest,” whispered Mr. Brown, who came forward to offer her his
arm; “compose yourself; your claims can never be overlooked while I am
by.”
“_You?_” retorted Mrs. Brown, with as much scorn as could be crowded
into a low undertone. “Who ever dreamed of depending on you—cheat
others, but don’t try it on me.”
“My love, I—I greatly fear you are getting nervous.”
Mrs. Brown snatched her hand indignantly from her husband’s arm, and
marched by him in grim silence to the pretty boudoir, where Mrs. Judson
was distributing the proceeds of the charity ball with the benign
calmness of a saint.
As each lady received her roll of money, she betrayed something more
than the usual curiosity of the sex, and was restless to be gone that
she might learn the amount. So in a little time the party broke up, and
with many thanks and sweet words, the ladies who had missions in the
world glided up to the dressing-room where Jane Kelly and Ellen Burns
sat waiting.
For two or three minutes Mrs. Brown stood with her back to the busy
sisterhood, and both hands were occupied as if arranging her dress, but
Jane Kelly caught a sound of rustling paper, and went to the corner
where she stood, with a shawl in her hand.
“Shall I help you, ma’am?”
Mrs. Brown crushed the money in her hand, turned suddenly, and saw Mrs.
Green behind one of the window-curtains pursuing a like investigation.
She stole forward, leaving Jane Kelly with the half-spread shawl in her
hand. Before Mrs. Green became aware of it, the sister was peering over
her shoulder.
“Just twenty-five dollars extra for your gross flattery,” she sneered,
thrusting her own money out of sight; “I wish you joy of it.”
“Thank you,” said Mrs. Green; “some time, perhaps, you will learn that
sweet words pay.”
Mrs. Brown strode solemnly to the other side of the room, took the shawl
from Jane Kelly, and wrapped herself in it, Then she drew a heavy
knitted hood over her head and marched toward the door, where Mr. Brown
stood meekly, holding a pair of rubber shoes in his hand.
“My love, it is snowing; permit me—”
Down upon one knee the man went, and taking up the foot that seemed
quivering to spurn him, incased it in the rubber—set it deferentially on
the floor, planted the other on his knee, and completed his task with
evident pride.
There was a general demand for cloaks, shawls, and hoods after this, and
the party broke up.
“My dear, how much?” questioned Mr. Brown with insinuating meekness, as
he and his wife went down the steps together.
“Don’t ask me. It’s enough to aggravate a saint. Private charities,
indeed, just sending the money back to the Evil One where it came
from—then all these riff-raff societies crowding in. The whole thing is
just contemptible.”
“Exactly, my love,” replied Mr. Brown, “exactly.”