"Well, then, gentlemen, I think we have all agreed upon our man?"
Mr. Dick Overend looked around the table as he spoke at the managing
trustees of St. Osoph's church. They were assembled in an upper
committee room of the Mausoleum Club. Their official place of meeting
was in a board room off the vestry of the church. But they had felt a
draught in it, some four years ago, which had wafted them over to the
club as their place of assembly. In the club there were no draughts.
Mr. Dick Overend sat at the head of the table, his brother George
beside him, and Dr. Boomer at the foot. Beside them were Mr. Boulder,
Mr. Skinyer (of Skinyer and Beatem) and the rest of the trustees.
"You are agreed, then, on the Reverend Uttermust Dumfarthing?"
"Quite agreed," murmured several trustees together.
"A most remarkable man," said Dr. Boomer. "I heard him preach in his
present church. He gave utterance to thoughts that I have myself been
thinking for years. I never listened to anything so sound or so
scholarly."
"I heard him the night he preached in New York," said Mr. Boulder. "He
preached a sermon to the poor. He told them they were no good. I never
heard, outside of a Scotch pulpit, such splendid invective."
"Is he Scotch?" said one of the trustees.
"Of Scotch parentage," said the university president. "I believe he is
one of the Dumfarthings of Dunfermline, Dumfries."
Everybody said "Oh," and there was a pause.
"Is he married?" asked one of the trustees. "I understand," answered
Dr. Boomer, "that he is a widower with one child, a little girl."
"Does he make any conditions?"
"None whatever," said the chairman, consulting a letter before him,
"except that he is to have absolute control, and in regard to salary.
These two points settled, he says, he places himself entirely in our
hands."
"And the salary?" asked someone.
"Ten thousand dollars," said the chairman, "payable quarterly in
advance."
A chorus of approval went round the table. "Good," "Excellent," "A
first-class man," muttered the trustees, "just what we want."
"I am sure, gentlemen," said Mr. Dick Overend, voicing the sentiments
of everybody, "we do _not_ want a cheap man. Several of the candidates
whose names have been under consideration here have been in many
respects--in point of religious qualification, let us say--most
desirable men. The name of Dr. McSkwirt, for example, has been
mentioned with great favour by several of the trustees. But he's a
cheap man. I feel we don't want him."
"What is Mr. Dumfarthing getting where he is?" asked Mr. Boulder.
"Nine thousand nine hundred," said the chairman.
"And Dr. McSkwirt?"
"Fourteen hundred dollars."
"Well, that settles it!" exclaimed everybody with a burst of
enlightenment.
And so it was settled.
In fact, nothing could have been plainer.
"I suppose," said Mr. George Overend as they were about to rise, "that
we are quite justified in taking it for granted that Dr. McTeague will
never be able to resume work?"
"Oh, absolutely for granted," said Dr. Boomer. "Poor McTeague! I hear
from Slyder that he was making desperate efforts this morning to sit up
in bed. His nurse with difficulty prevented him."
"Is his power of speech gone?" asked Mr. Boulder.
"Practically so; in any case, Dr. Slyder insists on his not using it.
In fact, poor McTeague's mind is a wreck. His nurse was telling me that
this morning he was reaching out his hand for the newspaper, and seemed
to want to read one of the editorials. It was quite pathetic,"
concluded Dr. Boomer, shaking his head.
So the whole matter was settled, and next day all the town knew that
St. Osoph's Church had extended a call to the Rev. Uttermust
Dumfarthing, and that he had accepted it.
* * * * *
Within a few weeks of this date the Reverend Uttermust Dumfarthing
moved into the manse of St. Osoph's and assumed his charge. And
forthwith he became the sole topic of conversation on Plutoria Avenue.
"Have you seen the new minister of St. Osoph's?" everybody asked. "Have
you been to hear Dr. Dumfarthing?" "Were you at St. Osoph's Church on
Sunday morning? Ah, you really should go! most striking sermon I ever
listened to."
The effect of him was absolute and instantaneous; there was no doubt of
it.
"My dear," said Mrs. Buncomhearst to one of her friends, in describing
how she had met him, "I never saw a more striking man. Such power in
his face! Mr. Boulder introduced him to me on the avenue, and he hardly
seemed to see me at all, simply scowled! I was never so favourably
impressed with any man."
On his very first Sunday he preached to his congregation on eternal
punishment, leaning forward in his black gown and shaking his fist at
them. Dr. McTeague had never shaken his fist in thirty years, and as
for the Rev. Fareforth Furlong, he was incapable of it.
But the Rev. Uttermust Dumfarthing told his congregation that he was
convinced that at least seventy per cent of them were destined for
eternal punishment; and he didn't call it by that name, but labelled it
simply and forcibly "hell." The word had not been heard in any church
in the better part of the City for a generation. The congregation was
so swelled next Sunday that the minister raised the percentage to
eighty-five, and everybody went away delighted. Young and old flocked
to St. Osoph's. Before a month had passed the congregation at the
evening service at St. Asaph's Church was so slender that the
offertory, as Mr. Furlong senior himself calculated, was scarcely
sufficient to pay the overhead charge of collecting it.
The presence of so many young men sitting in serried files close to the
front was the only feature of his congregation that extorted from the
Rev. Mr. Dumfarthing something like approval.
"It is a joy to me to see," he remarked to several of his trustees,
"that there are in the City so many godly young men, whatever the
elders may be."
But there may have been a secondary cause at work, for among the godly
young men of Plutoria Avenue the topic of conversation had not been,
"Have you heard the new presbyterian minister?" but, "Have you seen his
daughter? You haven't? Well, say!"
For it turned out that the "child" of Dr. Uttermust Dumfarthing,
so-called by the trustees, was the kind of child that wears a little
round hat, straight from Paris, with an upright feather in it, and a
silk dress in four sections, and shoes with high heels that would have
broken the heart of John Calvin. Moreover, she had the distinction of
being the only person on Plutoria Avenue who was not one whit afraid of
the Reverend Uttermust Dumfarthing. She even amused herself, in
violation of all rules, by attending evening service at St. Asaph's,
where she sat listening to the Reverend Edward, and feeling that she
had never heard anything so sensible in her life.
"I'm simply dying to meet your brother," she said to Mrs. Tom Overend,
otherwise Philippa; "he's such a complete contrast with father." She
knew no higher form of praise: "Father's sermons are always so
frightfully full of religion."
And Philippa promised that meet him she should.
But whatever may have been the effect of the presence of Catherine
Dumfarthing, there is no doubt the greater part of the changed
situation was due to Dr. Dumfarthing himself.
Everything he did was calculated to please. He preached sermons to the
rich and told them they were mere cobwebs, and they liked it; he
preached a special sermon to the poor and warned them to be mighty
careful; he gave a series of weekly talks to workingmen, and knocked
them sideways; and in the Sunday School he gave the children so fierce
a talk on charity and the need of giving freely and quickly, that such
a stream of pennies and nickels poured into Catherine Dumfarthing's
Sunday School Fund as hadn't been seen in the church in fifty years.
Nor was Mr. Dumfarthing different in his private walk of life. He was
heard to speak openly of the Overend brothers as "men of wrath," and
they were so pleased that they repeated it to half the town. It was the
best business advertisement they had had for years.
Dr. Boomer was captivated with the man. "True scholarship," he
murmured, as Dr. Dumfarthing poured undiluted Greek and Hebrew from the
pulpit, scorning to translate a word of it. Under Dr. Boomer's charge
the minister was taken over the length and breadth of Plutoria
University, and reviled it from the foundations up.
"Our library," said the president, "two hundred thousand volumes!"
"Aye," said the minister, "a powerful heap of rubbish, I'll be bound!"
"The photograph of our last year's graduating class," said the
president.
"A poor lot, to judge by the faces of them," said the minister.
"This, Dr. Dumfarthing, is our new radiographic laboratory; Mr. Spiff,
our demonstrator, is preparing slides which, I believe, actually show
the movements of the atom itself, do they not, Mr. Spiff?"
"Ah," said the minister, piercing Mr. Spiff from beneath his dark
brows, "it will not avail you, young man."
Dr. Boomer was delighted. "Poor McTeague," he said--"and by the way,
Boyster, I hear that McTeague is trying to walk again; a great error,
it shouldn't be allowed!--poor McTeague knew nothing of science."
The students themselves shared in the enthusiasm, especially after Dr.
Dumfarthing had given them a Sunday afternoon talk in which he showed
that their studies were absolutely futile. As soon as they knew this
they went to work with a vigour that put new life into the college.
* * * * *
Meantime the handsome face of the Reverend Edward Fareforth Furlong
began to wear a sad and weary look that had never been seen on it
before. He watched the congregation drifting from St. Asaph's to St.
Osoph's and was powerless to prevent it. His sadness reached its climax
one bright afternoon in the late summer, when he noticed that even his
episcopal blackbirds were leaving his elms and moving westward to the
spruce trees of the manse.
He stood looking at them with melancholy on his face. "Why, Edward,"
cried his sister, Philippa, as her motor stopped beside him, "how
doleful you look! Get into the car and come out into the country for a
ride. Let the parish teas look after themselves for today."
Tom, Philippa's husband, was driving his own car--he was rich enough to
be able to--and seated with Philippa in the car was an unknown person,
as prettily dressed as Philippa herself. To the rector she was
presently introduced as Miss Catherine Something--he didn't hear the
rest of it. Nor did he need to. It was quite plain that her surname,
whatever it was, was a very temporary and transitory affair.
So they sped rapidly out of the City and away out into the country,
mile after mile, through cool, crisp air, and among woods with the
touch of autumn bright already upon them, and with blue sky and great
still clouds white overhead. And the afternoon was so beautiful and so
bright that as they went along there was no talk about religion at all!
nor was there any mention of Mothers' Auxiliaries, or Girls' Friendly
Societies, nor any discussion of the poor. It was too glorious a day.
But they spoke instead of the new dances, and whether they had come to
stay, and of such sensible topics as that. Then presently, as they went
on still further, Philippa leaned forwards and talked to Tom over his
shoulder and reminded him that this was the very road to Castel
Casteggio, and asked him if he remembered coming up it with her to join
the Newberry's ever so long ago. Whatever it was that Tom answered it
is not recorded, but it is certain that it took so long in the saying
that the Reverend Edward talked in tete-a-tete with Catherine for
fifteen measured miles, and was unaware that it was more than five
minutes. Among other things he said, and she agreed--or she said and he
agreed--that for the new dances it was necessary to have always one and
the same partner, and to keep that partner all the time. And somehow
simple sentiments of that sort, when said direct into a pair of
listening blue eyes behind a purple motor veil, acquire an infinite
significance.
Then, not much after that, say three or four minutes, they were all of
a sudden back in town again, running along Plutoria Avenue, and to the
rector's surprise the motor was stopping outside the manse, and
Catherine was saying, "Oh, thank you ever so much, Philippa; it was
just heavenly!" which showed that the afternoon had had its religious
features after all. "What!" said the rector's sister, as they moved off
again, "didn't you know? That's Catherine Dumfarthing!"
* * * * *
When the Rev. Fareforth Furlong arrived home at the rectory he spent an
hour or so in the deepest of deep thought in an armchair in his study.
Nor was it any ordinary parish problem that he was revolving in his
mind. He was trying to think out some means by which his sister Juliana
might be induced to commit the sin of calling on the daughter of a
presbyterian minister.
The thing had to be represented as in some fashion or other an act of
self-denial, a form of mortification of the flesh. Otherwise he knew
Juliana would never do it. But to call on Miss Catherine Dumfarthing
seemed to him such an altogether delightful and unspeakably blissful
process that he hardly knew how to approach the topic. So when Juliana
presently came home the rector could find no better way of introducing
the subject than by putting it on the ground of Philippa's marriage to
Miss Dumfarthing's father's trustee's nephew.
"Juliana," he said, "don't you think that perhaps, on account of
Philippa and Tom, you ought--or at least it might be best for you to
call on Miss Dumfarthing?"
Juliana turned to her brother as he laid aside her bonnet and her black
gloves.
"I've just been there this afternoon," she said.
There was something as near to a blush on her face as her brother had
ever seen.
"But she was not there!" he said.
"No," answered Juliana, "but Mr. Dumfarthing was. I stayed and talked
some time with him, waiting for her."
The rector gave a sort of whistle, or rather that blowing out of air
which is the episcopal symbol for it.
"Didn't you find him pretty solemn?" he said.
"Solemn!" answered his sister. "Surely, Edward, a man in such a calling
as his ought to be solemn."
"I don't mean that exactly," said the rector; "I mean--er--hard,
bitter, so to speak."
"Edward!" exclaimed Juliana, "how can you speak so. Mr. Dumfarthing
hard! Mr. Dumfarthing bitter! Why, Edward, the man is gentleness and
kindness itself. I don't think I ever met anyone so full of sympathy,
of compassion with suffering."
Juliana's face had flushed It was quite plain that she saw things in
the Reverend Uttermust Dumfarthing--as some one woman does in every
man--that no one else could see.
The Reverend Edward was abashed. "I wasn't thinking of his character,"
he said. "I was thinking rather of his doctrines. Wait till you have
heard him preach."
Juliana flushed more deeply still. "I heard him last Sunday evening,"
she said.
The rector was silent, and his sister, as if impelled to speak, went on,
"And I don't see, Edward, how anyone could think him a hard or bigoted
man in his creed. He walked home with me to the gate just now, and he
was speaking of all the sin in the world, and of how few, how very few
people, can be saved, and how many will have to be burned as worthless;
and he spoke so beautifully. He regrets it, Edward, regrets it deeply.
It is a real grief to him."
On which Juliana, half in anger, withdrew, and her brother the rector
sat back in his chair with smiles rippling all over his saintly face.
For he had been wondering whether it would be possible, even remotely
possible, to get his sister to invite the Dumfarthings to high tea at
the rectory some day at six o'clock (evening dinner was out of the
question), and now he knew within himself that the thing was as good as
done.
* * * * *
While such things as these were happening and about to happen, there
were many others of the congregation of St. Asaph's beside the rector
to whom the growing situation gave cause for serious perplexities.
Indeed, all who were interested in the church, the trustees and the
mortgagees and the underlying debenture-holders, were feeling anxious.
For some of them underlay the Sunday School, whose scholars' offerings
had declined forty per cent, and others underlay the new organ, not yet
paid for, while others were lying deeper still beneath the ground site
of the church with seven dollars and a half a square foot resting on
them.
"I don't like it," said Mr. Lucullus Fyshe to Mr. Newberry (they were
both prominent members of the congregation). "I don't like the look of
things. I took up a block of Furlong's bonds on his Guild building from
what seemed at the time the best of motives. The interest appeared
absolutely certain. Now it's a month overdue on the last quarter. I
feel alarmed."
"Neither do I like it," said Mr. Newberry, shaking his head; "and I'm
sorry for Fareforth Furlong. An excellent fellow, Fyshe, excellent. I
keep wondering Sunday after Sunday, if there isn't something I can do
to help him out. One might do something further, perhaps, in the way of
new buildings or alterations. I have, in fact, offered--by myself, I
mean, and without other aid--to dynamite out the front of his church,
underpin it, and put him in a Norman gateway; either that, or blast out
the back of it where the choir sit, just as he likes. I was thinking
about it last Sunday as they were singing the anthem, and realizing
what a lot one might do there with a few sticks of dynamite."
"I doubt it," said Mr. Fyshe. "In fact, Newberry, to speak very
frankly, I begin to ask myself, Is Furlong the man for the post?"
"Oh, surely," said Mr. Newberry in protest.
"Personally a charming fellow," went on Mr. Fyshe; "but is he, all said
and done, quite the man to conduct a church? In the _first_ place, he
is _not_ a businessman."
"No," said Mr. Newberry reluctantly, "that I admit."
"Very good. And, _secondly_, even in the matter of his religion itself,
one always feels as if he were too little fixed, too unstable. He
simply moves with the times. That, at least, is what people are
beginning to say of him, that he is perpetually moving with the times.
It doesn't do, Newberry, it doesn't do." Whereupon Mr. Newberry went
away troubled and wrote to Fareforth Furlong a confidential letter with
a signed cheque in it for the amount of Mr. Fyshe's interest, and with
such further offerings of dynamite, of underpinning and blasting as his
conscience prompted.
When the rector received and read the note and saw the figures of the
cheque, there arose such a thankfulness in his spirit as he hadn't felt
for months, and he may well have murmured, for the repose of Mr.
Newberry's soul, a prayer not found in the rubric of King James.
All the more cause had he to feel light at heart, for as it chanced, it
was on that same evening that the Dumfarthings, father and daughter,
were to take tea at the rectory. Indeed, a few minutes before six
o'clock they might have been seen making their way from the manse to
the rectory.
On their way along the avenue the minister took occasion to reprove his
daughter for the worldliness of her hat (it was a little trifle from
New York that she had bought out of the Sunday School money--a
temporary loan); and a little further on he spoke to her severely about
the parasol she carried; and further yet about the strange fashion,
specially condemned by the Old Testament, in which she wore her hair.
So Catherine knew in her heart from this that she must be looking her
very prettiest, and went into the rectory radiant.
The tea was, of course, an awkward meal at the best. There was an
initial difficulty about grace, not easily surmounted. And when the
Rev. Mr. Dumfarthing sternly refused tea as a pernicious drink
weakening to the system, the Anglican rector was too ignorant of the
presbyterian system to know enough to give him Scotch whiskey.
But there were bright spots in the meal as well. The rector was even
able to ask Catherine, sideways as a personal question, if she played
tennis; and she was able to whisper behind her hand, "Not allowed," and
to make a face in the direction of her father, who was absorbed for the
moment in a theological question with Juliana. Indeed, before the
conversation became general again the rector had contrived to make a
rapid arrangement with Catherine whereby she was to come with him to
the Newberry's tennis court the day following and learn the game, with
or without permission.
So the tea was perhaps a success in its way. And it is noteworthy that
Juliana spent the days that followed it in reading Calvin's
"Institutes" (specially loaned to her) and "Dumfarthing on the
Certainty of Damnation" (a gift), and in praying for her brother--a
task practically without hope. During which same time the rector in
white flannels, and Catherine in a white duck skirt and blouse, were
flying about on the green grass of the Newberrys' court, and calling,
"love," "love all," to one another so gaily and so brazenly that even
Mr. Newberry felt that there must be something in it.
But all these things came merely as interludes in the moving currents
of greater events; for as the summer faded into autumn and autumn into
winter the anxieties of the trustees of St. Asaph's began to call for
action of some sort.
* * * * *
"Edward," said the rector's father on the occasion of their next
quarterly discussion, "I cannot conceal from you that the position of
things is very serious. Your statements show a falling off in every
direction. Your interest is everywhere in arrears; your current account
overdrawn to the limit. At this rate, you know, the end is inevitable.
Your debenture and bondholders will decide to foreclose; and if they
do, you know, there is no power that can stop them. Even with your
limited knowledge of business you are probably aware that there is no
higher power that can influence or control the holder of a first
mortgage."
"I fear so," said the Rev. Edward very sadly.
"Do you not think perhaps that some of the shortcoming lies with
yourself?" continued Mr. Furlong. "Is it not possible that as a
preacher you fail somewhat, do not, as it were, deal sufficiently with
fundamental things as others do? You leave untouched the truly vital
issues, such things as the creation, death, and, if I may refer to it,
the life beyond the grave."
As a result of which the Reverend Edward preached a series of special
sermons on the creation for which he made a special and arduous
preparation in the library of Plutoria University. He said that it had
taken a million, possibly a hundred million years of quite difficult
work to accomplish, and that though when we looked at it all was
darkness still we could not be far astray if we accepted and held fast
to the teachings of Sir Charles Lyell. The book of Genesis, he said was
not to be taken as meaning a day when it said a day, but rather
something other than a mere day; and the word "light" meant not exactly
light but possibly some sort of phosphorescence, and that the use of
the word "darkness" was to be understood not as meaning darkness, but
to be taken as simply indicating obscurity. And when he had quite
finished, the congregation declared the whole sermon to be mere milk
and water. It insulted their intelligence, they said. After which, a
week later, the Rev. Dr. Dumfarthing took up the same subject, and with
the aid of seven plain texts pulverized the rector into fragments.
One notable result of the controversy was that Juliana Furlong refused
henceforth to attend her brother's church and sat, even at morning
service, under the minister of St. Osoph's.
"The sermon was, I fear, a mistake," said Mr. Furlong senior; "perhaps
you had better not dwell too much on such topics. We must look for aid
in another direction. In fact, Edward, I may mention to you in
confidence that certain of your trustees are already devising ways and
means that may help us out of our dilemma."
Indeed, although the Reverend Edward did not know it, a certain idea,
or plan, was already germinating in the minds of the most influential
supporters of St. Asaph's.
Such was the situation of the rival churches of St. Asaph and St. Osoph
as the autumn slowly faded into winter: during which time the elm trees
on Plutoria Avenue shivered and dropped their leaves and the chauffeurs
of the motors first turned blue in their faces and then, when the great
snows came, were suddenly converted into liveried coachmen with tall
bearskins and whiskers like Russian horseguards, changing back again to
blue-nosed chauffeurs the very moment of a thaw. During this time also
the congregation of the Reverend Fareforth Furlong was diminishing
month by month, and that of the Reverend Uttermust Dumfarthing was so
numerous that they filled up the aisles at the back of the church. Here
the worshippers stood and froze, for the minister had abandoned the use
of steam heat in St. Osoph's on the ground that he could find no
warrant for it.
During the same period other momentous things were happening, such as
that Juliana Furlong was reading, under the immediate guidance of Dr.
Dumfarthing, the History of the Progress of Disruption in the Churches
of Scotland in ten volumes; such also as that Catherine Dumfarthing was
wearing a green and gold winter suit with Russian furs and a Balkan hat
and a Circassian feather, which cut a wide swath of destruction among
the young men on Plutoria Avenue every afternoon as she passed.
Moreover by the strangest of coincidences she scarcely ever seemed to
come along the snow-covered avenue without meeting the Reverend
Edward--a fact which elicited new exclamations of surprise from them
both every day: and by an equally strange coincidence they generally
seemed, although coming in different directions, to be bound for the
same place; towards which they wandered together with such slow steps
and in such oblivion of the passers-by that even the children on the
avenue knew by instinct whither they were wandering.
It was noted also that the broken figure of Dr. McTeague had reappeared
upon the street, leaning heavily upon a stick and greeting those he met
with such a meek and willing affability, as if in apology for his
stroke of paralysis, that all who talked with him agreed that
McTeague's mind was a wreck.
"He stood and spoke to me about the children for at least a quarter of
an hour," related one of his former parishioners, "asking after them by
name, and whether they were going to school yet and a lot of questions
like that. He never used to speak of such things. Poor old McTeague,
I'm afraid he is getting soft in the head." "I know," said the person
addressed. "His mind is no good. He stopped me the other day to say how
sorry he was to hear about my brother's illness. I could see from the
way he spoke that his brain is getting feeble. He's losing his grip. He
was speaking of how kind people had been to him after his accident and
there were tears in his eyes. I think he's getting batty."
Nor were even these things the most momentous happenings of the period.
For as winter slowly changed to early spring it became known that
something of great portent was under way. It was rumoured that the
trustees of St. Asaph's Church were putting their heads together. This
was striking news. The last time that the head of Mr. Lucullus Fyshe,
for example, had been placed side by side with that of Mr. Newberry,
there had resulted a merger of four soda-water companies, bringing what
was called industrial peace over an area as big as Texas and raising
the price of soda by three peaceful cents per bottle. And the last time
that Mr. Furlong senior's head had been laid side by side with those of
Mr. Rasselyer-Brown and Mr. Skinyer, they had practically saved the
country from the horrors of a coal famine by the simple process of
raising the price of nut coal seventy-five cents a ton and thus
guaranteeing its abundance.
Naturally, therefore, when it became known that such redoubtable heads
as those of the trustees and the underlying mortgagees of St. Asaph's
were being put together, it was fully expected that some important
development would follow. It was not accurately known from which of the
assembled heads first proceeded the great idea which was presently to
solve the difficulties of the church. It may well have come from that
of Mr. Lucullus Fyshe. Certainly a head which had brought peace out of
civil war in the hardware business by amalgamating ten rival stores and
had saved the very lives of five hundred employees by reducing their
wages fourteen per cent, was capable of it.
At any rate it was Mr. Fyshe who first gave the idea a definite
utterance.
"It's the only thing, Furlong," he said, across the lunch table at the
Mausoleum Club. "It's the one solution. The two churches can't live
under the present conditions of competition. We have here practically
the same situation as we had with two rum distilleries--the output is
too large for the demand. One or both of the two concerns must go
under. It's their turn just now, but these fellows are business men
enough to know that it may be ours tomorrow. We'll offer them a
business solution. We'll propose a merger."
"I've been thinking of it," said Mr. Furlong senior, "I suppose it's
feasible?"
"Feasible!" exclaimed Mr. Fyshe. "Why look what's being done every day
everywhere, from the Standard Oil Company downwards."
"You would hardly, I think," said Mr. Furlong, with a quiet smile,
"compare the Standard Oil Company to a church?" "Well, no, I suppose
not," said Mr. Fyshe, and he too smiled--in fact he almost laughed. The
notion was too ridiculous. One could hardly compare a mere church to a
thing of the magnitude and importance of the Standard Oil Company.
"But on a lesser scale," continued Mr. Fyshe, "it's the same sort of
thing. As for the difficulties of it, I needn't remind you of the much
greater difficulties we had to grapple with in the rum merger. There,
you remember, a number of the women held out as a matter of principle.
It was not mere business with them. Church union is different. In fact
it is one of the ideas of the day and everyone admits that what is
needed is the application of the ordinary business principles of
harmonious combination, with a proper--er--restriction of output and
general economy of operation."
"Very good," said Mr. Furlong, "I'm sure if you're willing to try, the
rest of us are."
"All right," said Mr. Fyshe. "I thought of setting Skinyer, of Skinyer
and Beatem, to work on the form of the organization. As you know he is
not only a deeply religious man but he has already handled the Tin Pot
Combination and the United Hardware and the Associated Tanneries. He
ought to find this quite simple."
* * * * *
Within a day or two Mr. Skinyer had already commenced his labours. "I
must first," he said, "get an accurate idea of the existing legal
organization of the two churches."
For which purpose he approached the rector of St. Asaph's. "I just want
to ask you, Mr. Furlong," said the lawyer, "a question or two as to the
exact constitution, the form so to speak, of your church. What is it?
Is it a single corporate body?"
"I suppose," said the rector thoughtfully, "one would define it as an
indivisible spiritual unit manifesting itself on earth." "Quite so,"
interrupted Mr. Skinyer, "but I don't mean what it is in the religious
sense: I mean, in the real sense." "I fail to understand," said Mr.
Furlong.
"Let me put it very clearly," said the lawyer. "Where does it get its
authority?"
"From above." said the rector reverently.
"Precisely," said Mr. Skinyer, "no doubt, but I mean its authority in
the exact sense of the term."
"It was enjoined on St. Peter," began the rector, but Mr. Skinyer
interrupted him.
"That I am aware of," he said, "but what I mean is--where does your
church get its power, for example, to hold property, to collect debts,
to use distraint against the property of others, to foreclose its
mortgages and to cause judgement to be executed against those who fail
to pay their debts to it? You will say at once that it has these powers
direct from Heaven. No doubt that is true and no religious person would
deny it. But we lawyers are compelled to take a narrower, a less
elevating point of view. Are these powers conferred on you by the state
legislature or by some higher authority?"
"Oh, by a higher authority, I hope," said the rector very fervently.
Whereupon Mr. Skinyer left him without further questioning, the
rector's brain being evidently unfit for the subject of corporation law.
On the other hand he got satisfaction from the Rev. Dr. Dumfarthing at
once.
"The church of St. Osoph," said the minister, "is a perpetual trust,
holding property as such under a general law of the state and able as
such to be made the object of suit or distraint. I speak with some
assurance as I had occasion to enquire into the matter at the time when
I was looking for guidance in regard to the call I had received to come
here."
* * * * *
"It's a quite simple matter," Mr. Skinyer presently reported to Mr.
Fyshe. "One of the churches is a perpetual trust, the other practically
a state corporation. Each has full control over its property provided
nothing is done by either to infringe the purity of its doctrine."
"Just what does that mean?" asked Mr. Fyshe.
"It must maintain its doctrine absolutely pure. Otherwise if certain of
its trustees remain pure and the rest do not, those who stay pure are
entitled to take the whole of the property. This, I believe, happens
every day in Scotland where, of course, there is great eagerness to
remain pure in doctrine."
"And what do you define as _pure_ doctrine?" asked Mr. Fyshe.
"If the trustees are in dispute," said Mr. Skinyer, "the courts decide,
but any doctrine is held to be a pure doctrine if _all_ the trustees
regard it as a pure doctrine."
"I see," said Mr. Fyshe thoughtfully, "it's the same thing as what we
called 'permissible policy' on the part of directors in the Tin Pot
Combination."
"Exactly," assented Mr. Skinyer, "and it means that for the merger we
need nothing--I state it very frankly--except general consent."
* * * * *
The preliminary stages of the making of the merger followed along
familiar business lines. The trustees of St. Asaph's went through the
process known as 'approaching' the trustees of St. Osoph's. First of
all, for example, Mr. Lucullus Fyshe invited Mr. Asmodeus Boulder of
St. Osoph's to lunch with him at the Mausoleum Club; the cost of the
lunch, as is usual in such cases, was charged to the general expense
account of the church. Of course nothing whatever was said during the
lunch about the churches or their finances or anything concerning them.
Such discussion would have been a gross business impropriety. A few
days later the two brothers Overend dined with Mr. Furlong senior, the
dinner being charged directly to the contingencies account of St.
Asaph's. After which Mr. Skinyer and his partner, Mr. Beatem, went to
the spring races together on the Profit and Loss account of St.
Osoph's, and Philippa Overend and Catherine Dumfarthing were taken (by
the Unforeseen Disbursements Account) to the grand opera, followed by a
midnight supper.
All of these things constituted what was called the promotion of the
merger and were almost exactly identical with the successive stages of
the making of the Amalgamated Distilleries and the Associated Tin Pot
Corporation; which was considered a most hopeful sign.
* * * * *
"Do you think they'll go into it?" asked Mr. Newberry of Mr. Furlong
senior, anxiously. "After all, what inducement have they?"
"Every inducement," said Mr. Furlong. "All said and done they've only
one large asset--Dr. Dumfarthing. We're really offering to buy up Dr.
Dumfarthing by pooling our assets with theirs."
"And what does Dr. Dumfarthing himself say to it?"
"Ah, there I am not so sure," said Mr. Furlong; "that may be a
difficulty. So far there hasn't been a word from him, and his trustees
are absolutely silent about his views. However, we shall soon know all
about it. Skinyer is asking us all to come together one evening next
week to draw up the articles of agreement."
"Has he got the financial basis arranged then?"
"I believe so," said Mr. Furlong. "His idea is to form a new
corporation to be known as the United Church Limited or by some similar
name. All the present mortgagees will be converted into unified
bondholders, the pew rents will be capitalized into preferred stock and
the common stock, drawing its dividend from the offertory, will be
distributed among all members in standing. Skinyer says that it is
really an ideal form of church union, one that he thinks is likely to
be widely adopted. It has the advantage of removing all questions of
religion, which he says are practically the only remaining obstacle to
a union of all the churches. In fact it puts the churches once and for
all on a business basis."
"But what about the question of doctrine, of belief?" asked Mr.
Newberry.
"Skinyer says he can settle it," answered Mr. Furlong.
* * * * *
About a week after the above conversation the united trustees of St.
Asaph's and St. Osoph's were gathered about a huge egg-shaped table in
the board room of the Mausoleum Club. They were seated in intermingled
fashion after the precedent of the recent Tin Pot Amalgamation and were
smoking huge black cigars specially kept by the club for the promotion
of companies and chargeable to expenses of organization at fifty cents
a cigar. There was an air of deep peace brooding over the assembly, as
among men who have accomplished a difficult and meritorious task.
"Well, then," said Mr. Skinyer, who was in the chair, with a pile of
documents in front of him, "I think that our general basis of financial
union may be viewed as settled."
A murmur of assent went round the meeting. "The terms are set forth in
the memorandum before us, which you have already signed. Only one other
point--a minor one--remains to be considered. I refer to the doctrines
or the religious belief of the new amalgamation."
"Is it necessary to go into that?" asked Mr. Boulder.
"Not entirely, perhaps," said Mr. Skinyer. "Still there have been, as
you all know, certain points--I won't say of disagreement--but let us
say of friendly argument--between the members of the different
churches--such things for example," here he consulted his papers, "as
the theory of the creation, the salvation of the soul, and so forth,
have been mentioned in this connection. I have a memorandum of them
here, though the points escape me for the moment. These, you may say,
are not matters of first importance, especially as compared with the
intricate financial questions which we have already settled in a
satisfactory manner. Still I think it might be well if I were permitted
with your unanimous approval to jot down a memorandum or two to be
afterwards embodied in our articles."
There was a general murmur of approval. "Very good," said Mr. Skinyer,
settling himself back in his chair. "Now, first, in regard to the
creation," here he looked all round the meeting in a way to command
attention--"Is it your wish that we should leave that merely to a
gentlemen's agreement or do you want an explicit clause?"
"I think it might be well," said Mr. Dick Overend, "to leave no doubt
about the theory of the creation."
"Good," said Mr. Skinyer. "I am going to put it down then something
after this fashion: 'On and after, let us say, August 1st proximo, the
process of the creation shall be held, and is hereby held, to be such
and such only as is acceptable to a majority of the holders of common
and preferred stock voting pro rata.' Is that agreed?"
"Carried," cried several at once.
"Carried," repeated Mr. Skinyer. "Now let us pass on"--here he
consulted his notes--"to item two, eternal punishment. I have made a
memorandum as follows, 'Should any doubts arise, on or after August
first proximo, as to the existence of eternal punishment they shall be
settled absolutely and finally by a pro-rata vote of all the holders of
common and preferred stock.' Is that agreed?"
"One moment!" said Mr. Fyshe, "do you think that quite fair to the
bondholders? After all, as the virtual holders of the property, they
are the persons most interested. I should like to amend your clause and
make it read--I am not phrasing it exactly but merely giving the sense
of it--that eternal punishment should be reserved for the mortgagees
and bondholders."
At this there was an outbreak of mingled approval and dissent, several
persons speaking at once. In the opinion of some the stockholders of
the company, especially the preferred stockholders, had as good a right
to eternal punishment as the bondholders. Presently Mr. Skinyer, who
had been busily writing notes, held up his hand for silence.
"Gentlemen," he said, "will you accept this as a compromise? We will
keep the original clause but merely add to it the words, 'but no form
of eternal punishment shall be declared valid if displeasing to a
three-fifths majority of the holders of bonds.'"
"Carried, carried," cried everybody.
"To which I think we need only add," said Mr. Skinyer, "a clause to the
effect that all other points of doctrine, belief or religious principle
may be freely altered, amended, reversed or entirely abolished at any
general annual meeting!"
There was a renewed chorus of "Carried, carried," and the trustees rose
from the table shaking hands with one another, and lighting fresh
cigars as they passed out of the club into the night air.
"The only thing that I don't understand," said Mr. Newberry to Dr.
Boomer as they went out from the club arm in arm (for they might now
walk in that fashion with the same propriety as two of the principals
in a distillery merger), "the only thing that I don't understand is why
the Reverend Mr. Dumfarthing should be willing to consent to the
amalgamation."
"Do you really not know?" said Dr. Boomer.
"No."
"You have heard nothing?"
"Not a word," said Mr. Newberry.
"Ah," rejoined the president, "I see that our men have kept it very
quiet--naturally so, in view of the circumstances. The truth is that
the Reverend Mr. Dumfarthing is leaving us."
"Leaving St. Osoph's!" exclaimed Mr. Newberry in utter astonishment.
"To our great regret. He has had a call--a most inviting field of work,
he says, a splendid opportunity. They offered him ten thousand one
hundred; we were only giving him ten thousand here, though of course
that feature of the situation would not weigh at all with a man like
Dumfarthing."
"Oh no, of course not," said Mr. Newberry.
"As soon as we heard of the call we offered him ten thousand three
hundred--not that that would make any difference to a man of his
character. Indeed Dumfarthing was still waiting and looking for
guidance when they offered him eleven thousand. We couldn't meet it. It
was beyond us, though we had the consolation of knowing that with such
a man as Dumfarthing the money made no difference."
"And he has accepted the call?"
"Yes. He accepted it today. He sent word to Mr. Dick Overend our
chairman, that he would remain in his manse, looking for light, until
two-thirty, after which, if we had not communicated with him by that
hour, he would cease to look for it."
"Dear me," said Mr. Newberry, deep in reflection, "so that when your
trustees came to the meeting--"
"Exactly," said Dr. Boomer--and something like a smile passed across
his features for a moment "Dr. Dumfarthing had already sent away his
telegram of acceptance."
"Why, then," said Mr. Newberry, "at the time of our discussion tonight,
you were in the position of having no minister."
"Not at all. We had already appointed a successor."
"A successor?"
"Certainly. It will be in tomorrow morning's papers. The fact is that
we decided to ask Dr. McTeague to resume his charge."
"Dr. McTeague!" repeated Mr. Newberry in amazement. "But surely his
mind is understood to be--"
"Oh not at all," interrupted Dr. Boomer. "His mind appears if anything,
to be clearer and stronger than ever. Dr. Slyder tells us that
paralysis of the brain very frequently has this effect; it soothes the
brain--clears it, as it were, so that very often intellectual problems
which occasioned the greatest perplexity before present no difficulty
whatever afterwards. Dr. McTeague, I believe, finds no trouble now in
reconciling St. Paul's dialectic with Hegel as he used to. He says that
so far as he can see they both mean the same thing."
"Well, well," said Mr. Newberry, "and will Dr. McTeague also resume his
philosophical lectures at the university?"
"We think it wiser not," said the president. "While we feel that Dr.
McTeague's mind is in admirable condition for clerical work we fear
that professorial duties might strain it. In order to get the full
value of his remarkable intelligence, we propose to elect him to the
governing body of the university. There his brain will be safe from any
shock. As a professor there would always be the fear that one of his
students might raise a question in his class. This of course is not a
difficulty that arises in the pulpit or among the governors of the
university."
"Of course not," said Mr. Newberry.
* * * * *
Thus was constituted the famous union or merger of the churches of St.
Asaph and St. Osoph, viewed by many of those who made it as the
beginning of a new era in the history of the modern church.
There is no doubt that it has been in every way an eminent success.
Rivalry, competition, and controversies over points of dogma have
become unknown on Plutoria Avenue. The parishioners of the two churches
may now attend either of them just as they like. As the trustees are
fond of explaining it doesn't make the slightest difference. The entire
receipts of the churches, being now pooled, are divided without
reference to individual attendance. At each half year there is issued a
printed statement which is addressed to the shareholders of the United
Churches Limited and is hardly to be distinguished in style or material
from the annual and semi-annual reports of the Tin Pot Amalgamation and
the United Hardware and other quasi-religious bodies of the sort. "Your
directors," the last of these documents states, "are happy to inform
you that in spite of the prevailing industrial depression the gross
receipts of the corporation have shown such an increase as to justify
the distribution of a stock dividend of special Offertory Stock
Cumulative, which will be offered at par to all holders of common or
preferred shares. You will also be gratified to learn that the
directors have voted unanimously in favour of a special presentation to
the Rev. Uttermust Dumfarthing on the occasion of his approaching
marriage. It was earnestly debated whether this gift should take the
form, as at first suggested, of a cash presentation, or as afterwards
suggested, of a written testimonial in the form of an address. The
latter course was finally adopted as being more fitting to the
circumstances and the address has accordingly been prepared, setting
forth to the Rev. Dr. Dumfarthing, in old English lettering and
wording, the opinion which is held of him by his former parishioners."
The "approaching marriage" referred of course to Dr. Dumfarthing's
betrothal to Juliana Furlong. It was not known that he had ever exactly
proposed to her. But it was understood that before giving up his charge
he drew her attention, in very severe terms, to the fact that, as his
daughter was now leaving him, he must either have someone else to look
after his manse or else be compelled to incur the expense of a paid
housekeeper. This latter alternative, he said, was not one that he
cared to contemplate. He also reminded her that she was now at a time
of life when she could hardly expect to pick and choose and that her
spiritual condition was one of, at least, great uncertainty. These
combined statements are held, under the law of Scotland at any rate, to
be equivalent to an offer of marriage.
Catherine Dumfarthing did not join her father in his new manse. She
first remained behind him, as the guest of Philippa Overend for a few
weeks while she was occupied in packing up her things. After that she
stayed for another two or three weeks to unpack them. This had been
rendered necessary by a conversation held with the Reverend Edward
Fareforth Furlong, in a shaded corner of the Overend's garden. After
which, in due course of time, Catherine and Edward were married, the
ceremony being performed by the Reverend Dr. McTeague whose eyes filled
with philosophical tears as he gave them his blessing.
So the two churches of St. Asaph and St. Osoph stand side by side
united and at peace. Their bells call softly back and forward to one
another on Sunday mornings and such is the harmony between them that
even the episcopal rooks in the elm trees of St. Asaph's and the
presbyterian crows in the spruce trees of St. Osoph's are known to
exchange perches on alternate Sundays.