CHAPTER XXXII.A LETTER.
In the meantime the new Parliament had got to work, and the first thing it did was to make an appeal to the Churches. This appeal reminded the followers of Christ that it really rested with them, and not with Parliament, to bring about the social reforms for which the nation was crying. Parliament would do the Churches’ will, and make such laws as they unanimously asked for; but if the Churches were not united everything would be hindered. Everywhere the country was called upon to send to those lesser parliaments, town councils, county councils, local boards, school boards, and all representative bodies, only such men as were known to uphold and to illustrate in their own lives the principles and practices of Christianity. The flag of truce, therefore, was generally uplifted, and beneath it the men of Christ stood side by side without reference to name or party.
Proofs were abundant that the Churches were keenly alive to their powers and possibilities. A great revival had especially taken place in the Episcopal Church, and it was as much a revival of brotherhood as of anything. Its clergymen appealed to Nonconformists to help them, and the response was general. Mr. Macdonald was rousing the people to fever-heat. At the close of his addresses, when the collection was taken, it was not unusual to find jewellery on the plates, put there by ladies whose consciences had been aroused. But this was not the sort of thing he wanted. Both he and Arthur Knight were seeking not so much to alleviate the present sorrows of the poor, as to bring about an entire change in Society; and they scorned this giving of conscience money by those who, in their eagerness after cheap things or riches for themselves, had brought the poverty about. Years before, a lady had written a small booklet entitled, “Only a Factory Girl,” in which she showed how, in the East-end of London, young people live. “Each house in these crowded streets contains several families, and in many cases six or eight people occupy a single room. One of our girls sleeps with a family of six in one small room, that is let in the daytime to two women, who are out on thestreets all night.” This writer had gone on to say:—“Factory girls by nature are like other girls; they crave a little pleasurable excitement, and aspire to personal improvement. Can anything be done to furnish them with what they need? Easily, if Christian women will only do it. The need is a great one, but, happily, it is one far more easily met than many others. All that is necessary is that there shall be in every neighbourhood where these girls reside an institute to which they may resort, where they will find instruction and sympathy, innocent amusement, the society of their companions, and food at a moderate price. Is it right that when their long and weary day’s work is done, and they turn out into the streets at night, they should find nothing open to them but the theatres, the music-halls, and the dancing saloons, in which they are ever welcome? Is it not sad that, besides these, the only other places to which they have the entrée are the ‘sing-song’ rooms connected with the larger public-houses—snares and traps of the evil one to ruin both body and soul? The haunts of vice and folly are open nightly to our factory girls, but should the Church of Christ leave it to the world, the flesh, and the devil to care for them?”
The Churches and Parliament together answered that question now, as it had not been answered before, with an emphaticNo. They were not going to allow these mothers of the future to be tempted thus. The outcome of this pamphlet had been the excellent Shaftesbury Institute; for the writer had pleaded: “We have quite a sufficient number of volunteers to make the effort a success, and nothing hinders our entering on it except the lack of premises.” These had been long ago supplied, and excellent work was carried on within them. But the plea of “lack of premises” was not now anywhere to be allowed; so men sternly determined. Lack of premises, when there were churches and chapels with vestries and school-rooms, which the people’s money had paid for, shut up all the week? It would have fared ill with any one in the new times who kept the good work of rescue waiting, while complaining of lack of premises. But it was such endeavours as those of the author of “Only a Factory Girl” which had brought the happy change about.
And the new Parliament passed two short and simple rules which had an immediate effect. The first provided that no one was to employ a girl in work of any kind who did not pay her for her labour wages enough to enable her to live respectably. And the second made it actionable for any oneto take rent without being assured that the rooms were only occupied by the right number and the right kind of persons.
Of course, there was a terrific howl from the quarters of vested interests. But this Parliament was as strong and sturdy as that of Oliver Cromwell, and a great deal more enlightened; so it simply closed its ears to all noises, and went straight on, doing its duty.
Its courage was in nothing more evident than in the very stringent liquor law which was speedily passed, and which attacked drunkenness as a deadly disease, and punished those who had been accessories. It also insisted that for a third offence a drunkard could be taken to a Home for Inebriates, and kept there until cured.
Mr. Whitwell was able to meet his new responsibilities. Darentdale was so near to London, and the rules of the latest House of Commons were so sensible, that a man was not compelled to spend all the nights in talking or listening to the talk of others; it was therefore possible for the Member for Scourby to attend to his duties in Westminster, and yet not altogether neglect those of his own farm and home. Tom always met her father on Friday night, and his two leisure days were happy ones for her as for the rest of his family. Quiet, self-effacing Mrs. Whitwell could not bring herself to be glad that her husband was a Member of Parliament, but her daughters were unfeignedly so; and it was a pleasant sight to see them hovering around him, and questioning him as to his votes and general conduct in the House. He electrified them one day with news that they did not expect.
“Have you read to-day’s paper?” he asked. “Did you see the account of my speech?”
“Your speech? Have you been speaking in the House?”
“Yes; I have, indeed, and my speech was very well received, too. A man has not much chance to be eloquent now, you know. I had not a new Bill to bring in, or, of course, I should have been allowed to speak for half an hour; it is not much one can say in ten minutes, but I said all there was time to say as forcibly as possible. Some day I mean to introduce the subject of these Retreats for Girls, and then what a chance I shall have to make my powers of elocution known!”
“You will be quite carried away by your own eloquence, dear; but that will not matter if no one else is,” said Tom, soothingly, moving a little from her father lest he should punish her for that saucy remark.
“What did you talk about yesterday?” asked Mrs. Whitwell.
“The railways. There are men who think they should all belong to the State. I say they do, since any man may get shares in them, and since they are managed by a part of the nation for the nation’s good. A railway that does not serve the public cannot exist, you know; and the companies are not as rich as they were, now that rates and fares are lower; but if they were, I have no objection if they do honestly what they undertake to do.”
“You are an old Tory, father, whether they call you so or not. You must know that the railway companies exist for the sole purpose of making themselves rich. They are nothing but firms in business. All they do for the people they do because they are compelled, in order to make the thing pay.”
“Very well. We are to judge by actions, since we cannot understand motives. If the companies pay fair wages to their men, and keep faith with the public, we have no right whatever to interfere with them. Besides which, we have our hands too full of far more important things than trying to get money out of the railway business; and that is what I said yesterday. We do not exist for the purpose of interfering with any business that is not injurious to the people.”
“And did the other honourable gentlemen agree with you?”
“Most of them did. Of course, we need money, since we are anxious to benefit the people and tax them as little as possible; but we are not going to be unwise enough to interfere with private interests unless these clash with the welfare of the commonwealth.”
“But did not any man get up and declare that railway interests do this, since they make a few rich at the expense of the many?” asked Tom.
“No; such a remark was not made.”
“You are, indeed, a model Parliament.”
“We are, at least, resolved not to waste time. Who do you think congratulated me, and expressed his approval of what I had said?”
“The Prince?”
“No; almost as great a man as he—Mr. Macdonald.”
There was a general smile at the mention of his name.
“Of course that principle of yours would meet with his approbation,” said Tom, “because of its bearing on other things than railways, and especially those which touch him most closely. But I am glad Mr. Macdonald has spoken to you. He must be a man worth knowing.”
“He is a splendid fellow. I heard him a day or two ago. He addressed those reverend Church dignitaries at the Conference in words that made them feel. He besought them to disestablish the Church from the State for the sake of reestablishing it in the hearts of the people. He believes that if this were done the Dissenters would come over in whole congregations.”
“Does he? He may be a good talker, but he cannot have much knowledge of human nature,” said Tom, “if he really believes that. Only think of the numbers of people who would find their occupation gone if they were not permitted to take part in the management of the affairs of their own chapel. Life would lose half its interests for them.”
“But they would be able to help in the management of their own church, which would come to the same thing.”
“No; it could not be the same. There would not be space nor opportunity for half of them; and they would not like to be nobodies after being important leaders in their own religious communities.”
“But it is a grand idea,” said Mrs. Whitwell. “One Church, one people.”
“Too grand for the English constitution,” said one of her daughters.
“Mr. Macdonald does not think so. And he has been considering this all his life. It may come, even if we do not live to see it, this one united Church which is the dream of so many faithful hearts. I should like to see our own beautiful old place crowded every Sunday, as it would be if that which Macdonald hopes for should become an accomplished fact.”
“I say, God grant it!” said Mrs. Whitwell.
“And we all say Amen,” added her husband. “You will be able to hear for yourselves what Macdonald thinks, for I have asked him to come and see us, and speak to the people here; and he says he will.”
“Oh, father, how could you? He must have invitations to all the best houses in the land. I believe you think our old hall is a good-enough place for the entertainment of any one.”
“Yes, I do; and every one who comes appears satisfied and pleased. I thought we should have had Mr. Knight with us again before this.”
Tom did not mention a letter which she had in her pocket at that moment, and which had given her some pleasure as well as amusement. This was the letter—
“Dear Miss Tom,—As you said I must rite a leter to you all by meself I will, and Sissy helps me. We like what yousent us verry much, and Sissy says the appels are nicest of all, and the pares and filbuts too. Mother thort we should be ill, but we wasn’t, not a bit, nor we sharnt be if you send us some more. We mist you when you went away, and it wasnt nice without you; so plees come back as soon as you can. Mister Nite come to-day. He brort me a book, and Sissy a nedlkase, but she likes my book best, and says I may have the nedlkase because she pricks her fingers; but I don’t warnt it. Mother says Mister Nite looks tired; and I heard her say to Miss Margrit that he expekted to find you here. I told Sissy, and she arsked him was he sorry you gone, and he said ‘Yes’; but he says he is com to see you, only she must not tell, because it is a secrut. Sissy loves Mr. Nite, so she give him that prutty pictyer you made, and Mister Nite says he shall keep it for ever-never. It rained that day, so praps the pictyer got wet; but Sissy says Mister Nite wuddent let it. I speld that word rong. I carnt spel verry well, so pleese xkuse it; com agan to see us soon.—Your fekshnut,
“Geoff.”
“Geoff.”
“Geoff.”
“Geoff.”
Mr. Knight did not go to Darentdale as soon as Geoff’s letter led Tom to expect. But they were all very greatly stirred by the visit of Mr. Macdonald. He went to Darentdale and to Scourby, and addressed the people, who were only too glad to have the opportunity of seeing and hearing him. His mission was the means of a spiritual revival in England, and Scourby and Darentdale shared in it. His appeals to those who already professed to hold the Christian faith and live the Christian life were exceedingly impressive. His cry everywhere was to the Church, “Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord hath risen upon thee.” In his own way, and to the members of his own Church, he delivered much the same message as that of Arthur Knight; and the two were evidently sent of God to meet the great need of the time. There is a picture in that unique collection of pictures, all by the hand of one painter, Wirtz, in Brussels, which frequently served him as a sort of text. It represents the Man of the Future curiously contemplating the things that interest the people of the present. He is a big man, and there is nothing little about him, but he holds in his hand a flag, a cannon, a pile of money, and a few other things which represent the poor little aims of so many of the men and women of to-day. He cannot understand where their power and charm lay. So, said Mr. Macdonald, will it be with those who realise Christ’s ideal; and he pleaded thatit was not worth while for the Christian to trouble himself about any of those things.
For a week he stayed at the Whitwells, every day speaking at some meeting. Tom was profoundly impressed. Day after day she accompanied him and her father, and she listened to him with the deepening conviction that she was herself living on too low a level. He stirred the very depths of her nature, and it was as if she experienced a new conversion. She had the opportunity of frequently talking with him, and she learned to revere the man as if he were a prophet. He seemed to know so much and to understand her so thoroughly that she half shrank from him even while she was attracted to him. Among the members of her church religious things were seldom talked about. She could not remember, since her confirmation, that the clergyman, whom she yet trusted greatly, had asked her any personal questions, or had any direct conversation with her respecting her Christian life and experience; but Mr. Macdonald could not talk with any one for ten minutes without bringing in the subject of personal consecration. Tom felt sometimes as if her soul were bared before him, and he knew all about her. He was a good guide—for there was nothing of the priest about him—and he had an intense realisation—as all must have who can arouse others—of the power of the living Christ; so that his visit to Darentdale was the means of lasting good.
“It is as if the very house has been consecrated by his prayers,” said Mrs. Whitwell. “We have never had as good a man within the walls before.”
And, indeed, all the members of the family were the same. Mr. Whitwell, as he parted from his guest, expressed what the others felt when he said: “You have brought a spiritual blessing to us all. It is good of you to visit our small place when you are wanted in all the big towns.”
“It has been a pleasure to me to visit you, Mr. Whitwell,” he said. “I had heard of your family from my friend, Arthur Knight, and you have given me a time of peace in the midst of strenuous labour. I am glad to know your family too.”
“They are well worth knowing, especially my youngest, with the masculine name. She is not by any means a Tomboy, is she?”
“She is very sweet and womanly,” said Macdonald. “She is, indeed, an ideal woman. She must be an immense help and comfort to you.”
“Yes, she is. I cannot tell what I should do without Tom.And she will be better than ever now, for I think she has heard every sermon you have preached in the neighbourhood. I am sorry they have been so few. Come to us again when you can. Like Arthur Knight, you make us think, and do us good.”
The two men went to London together, and separated at the railway terminus, each bent on his work.
A fortnight later, Mr. Whitwell, with a very grave face, called his youngest daughter into his study. “Tom, my dear,” he said, “I have a letter from Mr. Macdonald which has greatly surprised me, and he has enclosed one for you in it.”