The Missionary Part 29

"Still, it is impossible to blame the trader and the man of commerce for this. The real fault, the real sin, is not individual, it is collective--the guilt properly belongs to Society. Men do not descend to these mean subterfuges and these despicable trickeries merely to make money, to pile on hundreds on hundreds and thousands on thousands. In their hearts all the best of them despise the methods by which they are forced to earn their incomes and make their fortunes; but the penalties which the laws of Society place on honesty are so tremendous that a really honest man will deliberately sacrifice his own honour rather than incur them. That is a very serious thing to say, and yet it is the literal truth, and the most pitiable part of the matter is that he commits these sins of unscrupulousness and dishonesty chiefly for the sake of his wife and children. The social penalties of honesty would fall most heavily on them. Their houses and their luxurious furniture, their carriages and their horses, their costly clothing and precious jewels would be theirs no longer; in a word, they would become poor, and Society has no place for people if they are poor, whatever else they may be.

"To put the question in another way, a tiger seeking for its prey and slaying it ruthlessly when it has found it is not a pleasant subject for contemplation, but before we blame the tiger we must remember that somewhere at home in the jungle there is a Mrs. Tiger and some little tigers who have to be fed somehow. The tiger's methods of killing for food are merciful in comparison with the methods of many men who already possess enough to give the ordinary comforts of decent life to those who are depending upon them, and yet go on deceiving and swindling, for deception in commerce is swindling, in order to obtain those superfluities of life which are absolutely necessary to keep up what is called position in Society.

"I do not say that wealth and comfort would be impossible in an honest world; there is no reason why they should be, but they would be gained in greater moderation and by different methods. For instance, if Society could and would change its standards of honesty and morality, the force of public opinion would soon make crime impossible, save among the mentally and morally diseased, who would, of course, be treated in the same merciful but relentless fas.h.i.+on as we now treat what we call our criminal lunatics.

"It will of course be quite impossible for me to treat this vast subject in anything like detail in a single address, and therefore I shall content myself with having thrown out these few suggestions, and leave the development of it to those who will, I hope, take part in the discussion.

"But one word more in conclusion. Your President has called me a missionary, a missionary to the rich. That is the mission which I have taken on myself, and therefore I gladly accept the t.i.tle, all the more gladly because it comes from one who, while he differs from me absolutely on every theological point which I believe essential to salvation, has proved his faith by giving me that t.i.tle and by uttering a prayer which has, I hope, already been heard by Him to whom all hearts are open, and from whom no secrets are hid."

When Vane sat down there burst out a storm of applause, through which not a few hisses, mostly from clerical lips, pierced shrilly. Yet, few and simple as his words had been, it was quite evident that they had gone straight to the hearts of the majority of his audience.

The President rose when the applause subsided, and, after a brief speech, in which he frankly admitted that if all teachers of the Christian faith were like Vane Maxwell, and if there were no other sort of Christianity than his, there would be very little of what too many Christians call infidelity in the world, gave the usual notice that the meeting was now open for discussion.

Then the storm burst over Vane's devoted head. By a sort of tacit agreement the Secularists left the attack to the clergy. As a matter of fact they had practically no cause for dispute with Vane. On the contrary they delighted in the frankness of his expression of his belief, and the uncompromising fas.h.i.+on in which he had denounced and repudiated that unchristian form of Christianity which, as the President had put it, was responsible through its hypocrisy and double-dealing with G.o.d and man for all the honest unbelief, and all the scoffing and scepticism, which it pretended to deplore. So the Secularists sat still and silent, enjoying hugely the series of bitter attacks that were made on Vane by cleric after cleric, Anglican and Nonconformist, for close on a couple of hours. Vane took it all very quietly, now smiling and now looking grave almost to sadness, and when the last speaker had exhausted his pa.s.sion and his eloquence, and the President asked him to reply, he got up and said in slow but grave and very clear tones:

"I have no reply to make to what I have heard, save to say that I have heard with infinite sorrow from the lips of clergymen of every denomination and shade of opinion a series of statements which not one of them could justify from the teachings of Him who preached the Sermon on the Mount. There is no other criterion of Christian faith and doctrine than is to be found in the New Testament, and from the first verse in the Gospel according to St. Matthew to the last in Revelations there is not one word which contradicts what I have spoken, or which supports what they have said.

"That is a serious thing to say, but I say it with full knowledge and with perfect faith. I mean no personal offence. That would of course be impossible under the circ.u.mstances; but it is also quite impossible for me, after saying what I have said here and elsewhere, to argue seriously with those who are by profession teachers and preachers of the revelation of Jesus Christ--of the message of G.o.d to man by G.o.d incarnate in the flesh--and who are yet able to reconcile in their own souls the sayings of Jesus of Nazareth and the doings of twentieth century Christianity. We have heard the words infidel and infidelity used many times to-night. There is no infidelity in honest unbelief; and, sorrowfully as I say it, I still feel it my duty to say it, that there is more real infidelity inside the churches than there is outside, for the worst and most d.a.m.nable of all infidelities is that which says with its lips 'Lord, Lord,' and does not with its heart and its hands do that which He saith."

There was a little silence, a silence of astonishment on the one part of the audience and of absolute stupefaction on the part of the other. Then the storm of applause broke out once more, but there was no hissing mingled with it this time. About a score of black-clad figures rose pale and silent amidst the cheering throng and walked out. Their example was followed by most of the West End Christians, including her ladys.h.i.+p of Canore and her husband and daughters, whose curiosity had been more than amply satisfied. The cheers changed from enthusiasm to irony as the irregular procession moved towards the doors, and an irreverent Secularist at the back of the hall jumped on his seat and shouted, with an unmistakable Old Street accent:

"Got a bit more than you came for, eh? Hope you've enjoyed your lordly selves. Don't forget to say your prayers to-night. You want a lot of converting before _you'll_ be Christians. I've 'alf a mind to put up one for you to-night myself, blowed if I 'aven't."

Then the applause changed to laughter, hearty and good-humoured, and when the President had proposed the usual vote of thanks to the lecturer, and Vane had accepted his invitation to give a series of addresses at the halls of the Society throughout the country, the most memorable meeting on record at the Hall of Science came to an end.

CHAPTER XXIV.

The next Sunday, Vane, the Mayfair Missionary, as one of the evening papers had called him, preached at St. Chrysostom, and took for his text:

"Art thou a master of Israel and knowest not these things."

During the week, the storm of indignation against him had been growing both in strength and violence, and a movement was already on foot to arraign him before the Ecclesiastical Courts on charges of heresy and unbelief, and of bringing the priesthood into contempt by publicly a.s.sociating himself as a priest with the avowed enemies of the Church.

The church was, of course, crowded, but the congregation was composed of very different elements from those which had made up his congregation a fortnight before. There were many of its richest members there, but they did not come in their carriages. Many others had come in trains or 'busses, or had walked from Mile End and Bethnal Green to hear the words of the new prophet; and scores of these had not seen the inside of a church for years, or ever dreamt of listening with anything like respect to a sermon from a Christian pulpit, yet none were more respectful and attentive than these infidels and heretics whose respectful attention and new-awakened reverence were the first fruits of Vane's mission harvest.

His sermon was a direct and uncompromising reply to the challenge to prove that he was worthy to wear the cloth of the priesthood, and when it was over, his hearers, the believers and unbelievers alike, had been driven to the conviction, unpleasant as it was to some of them, that if the preacher had drawn his conclusions right from the words of Christ and his Apostles, it was absolutely certain that neither churches or churchmen, whatever their form of doctrine might be, could at the same time be wealthy and powerful in the worldly sense, and remain anything more than nominal Christians.

After the sermon Vane a.s.sisted Father Baldwin in the administration of the Sacrament, and Carol and Rayburn took the elements from his hands; Carol for the first time in her life, and Rayburn for the first time since he had reached manhood. It was for them the consecration of their new love and the new life which was to begin next day.

Dora, who had been present at the service and had remained through the communion, had, greatly to the surprise of every one, and even to the sorrow of Carol and Vane, refused steadily to partake. She would give no reason, and therefore Carol quite correctly concluded that she had some very sufficient one.

At ten the next morning, Vane married Carol and Rayburn. The ceremony was as simple as the forms of the Church allowed, and absolutely private. Sir Arthur gave Carol away, and Ernshaw acted as Rayburn's best man. The only others present were Father Baldwin and Dora, and a few of the usual idlers to whom a wedding of any sort is an irresistible attraction, and who had no notion of the strangeness of the wooing and the winning, or of the depth of the life-tragedy which was being brought to such a happy ending in such simple fas.h.i.+on.

The only guests at the marriage-feast were Dora, Ernshaw, and Vane. It was just a family party, as Sir Arthur called it, so the bride and bridegroom were spared the giving and receiving of speeches. Never did a greater change take place in a girl's life more simply and more quietly than this tremendous, almost incredible change which took place in Carol's, when, from being a nameless outcast beyond the pale of what is more or less correctly termed respectable society, she became the wife of a man who had wooed, and won her under such strange circ.u.mstances, yet knowing everything, and the mistress of millions to boot.

When the brougham that was to take them to the station drew up at the door, Rayburn put his hand on Vane's arm, and led him to the study.

"Maxwell," he said, as he shut the door, "I have done the best thing to-day that a man can do. I have got a good wife, and----"

"You have done a great deal more than that, Rayburn," said Vane, "infinitely more. I needn't tell you what it is, but if ever G.o.d and his holy Saints looked down with blessing on the union of man and woman, they did upon your marriage to-day."

"I see what you mean," said Rayburn, "and for Carol's sake, I hope so with all my heart. Now, look here," he went on, in an altered tone, taking an envelope out of his pocket, "you know that I don't find myself able to believe with you on this question of the possession of wealth.

Perhaps I have got too much of it to be able to do so; but what I have, I know Carol will help me to use better than I could use it myself. It is the usual thing, I believe, for a man who has just taken a wife unto himself, to make a thank-offering to the Church. Here is mine, and it is not only mine, but hers, for we had a talk about it yesterday. Open it when we have gone. And now, good-bye, brother Vane, and G.o.d speed you in your good work!"

When the last good-byes had been said, and the last kisses and handshakes exchanged, and the carriage had driven away, Vane went alone into the study, and opened the envelope. It contained a note in Carol's writing, and a cheque. The note ran thus:

"MY DEAREST BROTHER,

"The enclosed is the result of a talk I had with Cecil last night, he also had one with Mr. Ernshaw, and I had one with Dora. I should like it to be used, under your direction, for the good of those who are as I was, but have not been so blest with such good fortune as I have been.

"Ever your most loving and grateful sister, "CAROL."

The cheque was for twenty thousand pounds.

Vane could scarcely believe his eyes when he looked at the five figures.

Then, when he had grasped the meaning of them, he murmured:

"G.o.d bless them both; they have made a good beginning," and went back to join the others in the dining-room.

He had a long talk with Ernshaw that afternoon, and they decided to bank the money in their joint name, Ernshaw absolutely refusing to have it in his name alone, as the cheque had been given to Vane, and towards the end of the talk Ernshaw said:

"I am glad to say that I should not be very much surprised now if what your father said a couple of years ago were to come true. In fact, I have broached the subject already very gently and circ.u.mspectly, of course, but she absolutely refuses even to consider the matter for at least a year. Still, she did it so gently and so sweetly that I don't by any means despair; and that girl, Maxwell, will make as good a wife as a parson ever had, and a better one than a good many have. She has given me my life-work, too. You are going to try and redeem the rich, or, at least, to show them the way of redemption. I, with G.o.d's help, and hers, am going to try and show a way of redemption to those who have lost everything, and this money of Rayburn's will give us a magnificent start, if you will agree with me that it will be devoted to it."

"Of course, it must be," said Vane, "there can't be any doubt about that. Miss Russell will naturally be at the head of the work, I suppose, and the first thing we ought to do, I think, is to get an establishment for her, and let her start as soon as may be. I suppose you have talked it over with her already?"

"Oh, yes," replied Ernshaw, "and she is more than delighted with the idea."

"I am glad to hear it," said Vane, "no one could possibly do the work better. Ernshaw, old man," he went on, more gravely, "I'm afraid for myself that with a helper, and, I hope, some day a help-meet like Miss Russell, you will have a good deal more chance of success in your work than I shall in mine."

"That, my dear fellow," replied Ernshaw, "is in other hands than ours.

There lies the work to our hands, and all we have got to do is to do it.

By the way, as far as mine is concerned, I hope you will help me to persuade your father to take a share in it."

"I am perfectly certain he will," said Vane; "the fact that Carol suggested it will be quite enough for that."

"Then if he does, by the time you come back from your first crusade, I think you will find things getting pretty well into order."

"I'm sure I shall," said Vane.

But it was already written that this crusade was not to begin until many other things had happened. That evening at dinner Sir Arthur said:

"Vane, I had a note from Sir Reginald this afternoon asking me to run down to the Abbey for a few days, and then join them at Cowes. You are included in the invitation, but, of course, you wouldn't go to Cowes, and I don't think I shall, the work here will be very much more interesting; but I thought perhaps you might like to run down to the Abbey and see Father Philip before you start on your mission. Garthorne and Enid are there, and her father and mother are going. It wouldn't be a bad opportunity to tell the family party the good news about Carol."

"Oh, yes," said Vane, "I should like that, immensely; in fact, I've been thinking already that if Father Baldwin agrees with me that before I do make a start on my mission to Midas, as my friend, Reed, called it the other day, the best thing I could do would be to spend a day or two at the Retreat, and go into the matter thoroughly with Father Philip."