CONSOLIDATION
A month had passed by.
For a fortnight after the death of Sir Augustus Kirwan the Press had
been full of surmise and conjecture. New theories as to the identity of
the murderer were advanced every day. Every now and again some
enterprising journal would appear with a column of exclusive news, which
pointed to the fact that the criminal was discovered through the acumen
of the journal's own private detectives, and was certain to be arrested
in two days at least. He never was arrested, and two days afterwards
some new sensation drew a red herring across the old trail, while the
public read on and were perfectly content, provided that they were
thrilled.
It was generally agreed, however, by Press and public alike, that Sir
Augustus Kirwan had not been the real object of attack, but that the
shot had been aimed at Joseph, the evangelist. This general certainty
had marked a definite effect upon the way in which the Teacher was
regarded. The hostility of the unthinking mob was disarmed by it. It
became known to the great mass of the common people that whatever Joseph
might be, whatever impossible doctrines he might preach, his one idea
was to alleviate the miseries and sorrows of the poor, not only in a
spiritual, but also in a solid, concrete, and material fashion.
Opposition still continued, of course, but the tragedy in the East End
had broken it up into separate camps, and there was no longer a steady
tide of enmity, such as there had been at the commencement of the
evangelist's stupendous mission to London.
On the night of the murder itself an event had occurred which was very
far-reaching in its consequences, though at the moment none of those who
were present quite realized the significance of what they heard. The
Teacher had appeared upon the steps of his house in Bloomsbury, and had
addressed the enormous crowd during the early part of the night. This
crowd had been attracted to the square by the news published in the
evening papers of Sir Augustus' murder and Joseph's escape. They had
congregated there out of curiosity, in the first instance; but when
Joseph had appeared in a carriage, together with a stranger, there had
been a spontaneous outburst of genuine affection from the many-throated
multitude.
It was as though every person there, whether he had seen the evangelist
before or not, was genuinely glad at his escape, felt that sense of
personal brotherhood and love, that ungrudging recognition of a high and
noble nature whose aims were purely unselfish, which now and then is
vouchsafed to an assembly to feel, and which, in the psychology of
crowds, is the very highest manifestation of cumulative feeling.
Then had come a short but enormously powerful and heart-searching
address.
There was a note of great sadness in it, so some of the most sensitive
members of the crowd imagined, a note heralding a farewell, though, on
after reflection, it was supposed that the terrible events of the
afternoon had naturally disturbed and unstrung the Teacher in a very
great degree.
The peculiar note which the address had struck was that which made it a
very special occasion in the history of Joseph's mission to London. It
was not only an exhortation to the people there to repent and seek
forgiveness at the foot of the Cross, it was not only an exhortation to
each member of the crowd to live a holy life and walk in the ways of the
Lord--it was all this, but there was something more, and something new.
Joseph had, as if with the certainty of most absolute confidence, bidden
every person there from that moment to go out into the world as a
definite minister of the Gospel. It was as though addressing a
congregation of known and tried disciples, whom he knew would obey his
behests and carry out his wishes. So some great captain might have
spoken to his officers, delivering them a special mission.
"Go out, my dear brothers, this very night, as ministers of the Word of
God, to spread the knowledge of Him in London. Repent and be baptized,
every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of
sins, and you shall receive the Holy Ghost."
With fiery words he called upon them to deny themselves all things, to
break off all associations with evil and worldly things which warred
against the soul; to do their work, whatever it might be, to the glory
of God, and to spend every moment of their spare time in a definite,
individual campaign against the hosts of evil.
The burning eloquence of his words, short as was the time during which
he spoke to them, made a deep impression upon many hundreds there. The
dark square, with its tall lamp-posts around, and the glow of yellow
light which poured from the door of the great house, the deep organ-note
of London's traffic all around, the whole strangeness and mystery of the
scene, could never be forgotten by any one that witnessed it. And in the
result it had actually happened that in that single evening the power of
the Teacher's words had keyed up lives that were faltering between good
and evil, had sown the seed of righteousness in barren and empty hearts,
had sent out a veritable company far and wide over London, who, each in
his own way, and with the measure of his powers and capacity, became a
minister of Jesus.
"Was it not, indeed, true?" many righteous men and women asked
themselves during the ensuing month, when the leaven was working in
strange and unexpected directions. "Was it not, indeed, true, that down
upon that crowd of Londoners some portion of the Holy Spirit had
descended, some sacred fire which, even as the fires of Pentecost
themselves, had again repeated the miracle which was prophesied by the
prophet Joel?"
All over London, among thinking Christians, there came an added
conviction that it was indeed true that one specially guided and gifted
of God was among them. A man was in their midst to whom the Holy Spirit
was given in abounding and overflowing measure, and who, like Enoch,
walked with God. And many lovers of Jesus felt that perhaps now, indeed,
the time was come when once more the Almighty Father would pour out His
Spirit upon all flesh--the time when their sons and their daughters
should prophesy, the young men see visions, and the old men dream
dreams.
Was it not true now, as it ever had been, that "whosoever shall call
upon the name of the Lord shall be saved?"
And so, during the month which had gone by since the tragedy in
Whitechapel, the fame of the Master had grown and grown, until it had
become less of the breathless sensation which it had appeared at first,
and had settled down into a definite and concrete thing.
It was at this juncture that two articles appeared in two newspapers.
One was an article signed "Eric Black" in the _Daily Wire_, another one
written by Hampson, the editor of the _Sunday Friend_.
The _Daily Wire_ was, of course, the leading popular daily paper of
England. The _Sunday Friend_, under Hampson's editorship, and especially
since the advent of the evangelist, had become an enormous power among
all definitely Christian people.
The article of Eric Black in the _Daily Wire_ was far less enthusiastic
in tone than that written by Hampson, Joseph's old and trusted friend.
It was very judicial in manner, and from this very circumstance it
gained an additional weight, and had, perhaps, even a greater influence
than the other.
Eric Black, the brilliant young journalist, had never faltered in his
resolve to follow the banner of Christ since the night when, with his
own eyes, he saw the man of God raise up the sufferer from his sick bed.
At the same time, Black, far more than Hampson, was a man of the world,
a young, brilliant, modern man of the world. He realized that in order
to make the Kingdom of Heaven intelligible it was most certainly
necessary to understand the kingdom of this world as well. To plant the
good seed in the waiting ground one must not only know all about the
seed itself, but must be acquainted with the properties of the ground in
which it is destined to fructify.
In thoroughly understanding this, the journalist, in his great
summing-up article of the work of Joseph the evangelist, had refrained
from enthusiastic comment, and had merely stated and made a record of
indubitable, incontrovertible fact.
Never before, during the time of the Teacher's ministry, had there been
a concise epitome of its events, its progress, and its results.
London, and all England, indeed, was supplied with such a document now,
and even the most thoughtless were compelled to pause and wonder what
these things might mean.
Every instance of the supernormal happening--Eric Black refused the word
supernatural, and substituted for it the wiser and more comprehensive
word--was tabulated, set forth in detail, and attested by the affidavits
of witnesses whose bona fides could not be doubted.
The enormous charities which had begun to be active under the ægis of
the Teacher were explained and discussed, and in one day London was
amazed to learn of great fortunes which were being deflected from their
old paths and were pouring their benefits to relieve the necessities of
the downtrodden and oppressed. Names and sums were given, and the man in
the street gasped as he realized the tremendous force of a personality
which had already captured millions of money for the work and service of
God.
If some of the wealthiest and most celebrated men in England had gladly
given up a great part of that which they possessed for the benefit of
others, was there not, indeed, something beyond all ordinary explanation
in this stupendous fact?
Perhaps, indeed, such occurrences as these impressed the great mass of
the public more even than the supernormal occurrences to which Black's
famous article bore witness. To the mind of the ordinary self-seeking
man there is something far more wonderful in the fact of a man with a
hundred pounds giving seventy-five of it away to other people, without
hope of earthly reward or wish for earthly praise and recognition, than
even the appearance of an angel in the sky heralding the second coming
of Our Lord would probably be.
The brain of each single unit of the human race is exactly what he has
made it by a long series of habits and thoughts directed to one object.
It is not more wonderful that the sot and low-minded man cannot
appreciate beautiful music or perfect scenery than it is that the
self-centred intellect is unable to accept the evidence for the unseen
or realize that this life is but a phantom that will pass away.
Both the article of Eric Black and that written by the editor of the
_Sunday Friend_ finally summed up the difference that the arrival of
Joseph in the Modern Babylon had made to existing conditions.
The theatres of the bad sort, which pandered to the lower instincts of
those who patronized them, were almost empty. Several of them were
closed, "for the production of a new play." A strong agitation was going
on in Parliament to make it prohibitive for women to be employed in the
drinking saloons and bars of London. In vast areas the preachers of the
Brotherhood had reduced the gambling evil among the poorer classes to a
most appreciable extent.
The working man was being taught by the direct agency of the Holy
Spirit, as manifested in Joseph's followers, and by the inexorable law
of quiet logic and common-sense, to turn his attention from the things
of to-day and the immediate amusement of the moment, to the future of
his soul. The greatest work of all was, perhaps, accomplished in this
direction, and it was found that once the ordinary intelligence was
convinced of the existence of a future state, the ordinary intelligence
saw immediately the necessity for preparing for eternity during this
short and finite life.
London, day by day, hour by hour almost, was growing more serious. The
churches were filling once more, especially and markedly those in which
there was a daily celebration of the Eucharist. A great wave of
religious feeling was sweeping over the metropolis. And on all sides the
cry of the ignorant and the desirous was heard--
"What shall we do to be saved?"
Some two days after the month which had elapsed since the murder of Sir
Augustus, Sir Thomas Ducaine sat in his library, talking earnestly to
Hampson the journalist.
Ever since the first night when the two strangely opposite natures had
met at the Frivolity Theatre the friendship between the millionaire
baronet and the humble journalist had grown and strengthened. Then had
come Sir Thomas' conversion to the truth, his public confession of
Christ, which had welded the bond of friendship between the two men into
something that only death itself could end in this world, but to renew
it in the next.
Lady Kirwan had retired to the great family country-house in
Hertfordshire, a broken and unhappy woman. She had refused to see Joseph
or even Sir Thomas Ducaine again, persisting in her attitude of absolute
hostility to the Teacher and all his friends. Marjorie Kirwan had become
quietly engaged to the Duke of Dover.
Lady Kirwan--and this was the worst of all--had turned against her
niece, Mary Lys. The will of Sir Augustus had come as an enormous
surprise to the world. No one had realized how wealthy the financier
was, and his testamentary dispositions had startled everybody. Trustees
were placed in the possession of a million of money, which was to be
handed over to his daughter upon her marriage. Lady Kirwan had a life
interest in almost an equal sum. When she died this vast property was to
go to her niece, Mary Lys, without any conditions whatever. Two hundred
thousand pounds had been left to the influential committee of trustees
which now administered the great sums of money which had been given or
left to Joseph and his brethren.
The position of Mary was, therefore, a very strange one. She had become
one of the greatest heiresses in England, she was engaged to Sir Thomas
Ducaine, but nothing would induce her aunt to see her or hold any
communication with her. At first the poor girl had thought of returning
to the hospital in the East End for a time, but another way had been
found out of the difficulty.
Lady Susan Wells, an elderly spinster, a daughter of the Earl of
Fakenham, and aunt to Sir Thomas Ducaine, had asked Mary to live with
her at her house in Belgrave Square. The plan had been adopted, and Mary
was still able, owing to this arrangement, to actively assist in
Joseph's work, and carry on her life of sweet self-sacrifice and help.
Sir Thomas and Hampson sat on each side of the library fire.
"Joseph ought to be here now," Hampson remarked.
Sir Thomas nodded and said:
"I feel to-night as if something very important were going to happen.
Neither of us have seen Joseph for four days now. Nobody, in fact, has
seen him, and nobody knows what he has been doing. One of his strange
disappearances and withdrawals from the rush of life has taken place
again. When that occurs we always know something is going to happen."
"He has been communing with God," Hampson answered gravely, and even as
he spoke the butler opened the door, and the tall figure of the Master
entered.
Joseph looked very thin and pale. He seemed a man who had but lately
come through days of deep suffering.
Sir Thomas rose.
"Ah, my friend," he said, "we were speaking of you at this moment, and
wondering what you had to tell us. We got your letter, of course, and we
knew that you had some very important thing to say. Come and tell us
what it is."
"My brothers," Joseph answered, his face beaming with love and sadness
as he looked upon them both, "I come to tell you of the end!"