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