Delphi Complete Works of Stephen Leacock, page 67
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.
The Great Fight for Clean Government
“AS TO THE government of this city,” said Mr. Newberry, leaning back in a leather armchair at the Mausoleum Club and lighting a second cigar, “it’s rotten, that’s all.”
“Absolutely rotten,” assented Mr. Dick Overend, ringing the bell for a second whiskey and soda.
“Corrupt,” said Mr. Newberry, between two puffs of his cigar.
“Full of graft,” said Mr. Overend, flicking his ashes into the grate.
“Crooked aldermen,” said Mr. Newberry.
“A bum city solicitor,” said Mr. Overend, “and an infernal grafter for treasurer.”
“Yes,” assented Mr. Newberry, and then, leaning forwards in his chair and looking carefully about the corridors of the club, he spoke behind his hand and said, “And the mayor’s the biggest grafter of the lot. And what’s more,” he added, sinking his voice to a whisper, “the time has come to speak out about it fearlessly.”
Mr. Overend nodded. “It’s a tyranny,” he said.
“Worse than Russia,” rejoined Mr. Newberry.
They had been sitting in a quiet corner of the club — it was on a Sunday evening — and had fallen into talking, first of all, of the present rottenness of the federal politics of the United States — not argumentatively or with any heat, but with the reflective sadness that steals over an elderly man when he sits in the leather armchair of a comfortable club smoking a good cigar and musing on the decadence of the present day. The rottenness of the federal government didn’t anger them. It merely grieved them.
They could remember — both of them — how different everything was when they were young men just entering on life. When Mr. Newberry and Mr. Dick Overend were young, men went into congress from pure patriotism; there was no such thing as graft or crookedness, as they both admitted, in those days; and as for the United States Senate — here their voices were almost hushed in awe — why, when they were young, the United States Senate —
But no, neither of them could find a phrase big enough for their meaning.
They merely repeated “as for the United States Senate—” and then shook their heads and took long drinks of whiskey and soda.
Then, naturally, speaking of the rottenness of the federal government had led them to talk of the rottenness of the state legislature. How different from the state legislatures that they remembered as young men! Not merely different in the matter of graft, but different, so Mr. Newberry said, in the calibre of the men. He recalled how he had been taken as a boy of twelve by his father to hear a debate. He would never forget it. Giants! he said, that was what they were. In fact, the thing was more like a Witenagemot than a legislature. He said he distinctly recalled a man, whose name he didn’t recollect, speaking on a question he didn’t just remember what, either for or against he just couldn’t recall which; it thrilled him. He would never forget it. It stayed in his memory as if it were yesterday.
But as for the present legislature — here Mr. Dick Overend sadly nodded assent in advance to what he knew was coming — as for the present legislature — well — Mr. Newberry had had, he said, occasion to visit the state capital a week before in connection with a railway bill that he was trying to — that is, that he was anxious to — in short in connection with a railway bill, and when he looked about him at the men in the legislature — positively he felt ashamed; he could put it no other way than that — ashamed.
After which, from speaking of the crookedness of the state government Mr. Newberry and Mr. Dick Overend were led to talk of the crookedness of the city government! And they both agreed, as above, that things were worse than in Russia. What secretly irritated them both most was that they had lived and done business under this infernal corruption for thirty or forty years and hadn’t noticed it. They had been too busy.
