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Title: Orthodoxy
Author: Nina Wilcox Putnam
Release date: June 27, 2026 [eBook #78965]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Mitchell Kennerly, 1914
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/78965
Credits: Tim Miller, Sam Lamb and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ORTHODOXY ***
ORTHODOXY
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
ORTHODOXY
THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY
IN SEARCH OF ARCADY
ORTHODOXY
_by_ NINA WILCOX PUTNAM
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
MITCHELL KENNERLEY
1914
_To
J. H. H._
COPYRIGHT 1914 BY
MITCHELL KENNERLEY
_CHARACTERS_
THE SEXTON THE TENOR
THE ANCIENT WOMAN THE CONTRALTO
THE MINISTER’S WIFE THE CHORUS
THE LAND AGENT FIRST FARMHAND
THE AGENT’S WIFE SECOND FARMHAND
THE BUTCHER A WORTHY CITIZEN
THE BUTCHER’S WIFE THE RICH BACHELOR
FIRST GIRL THE OLD MAID
SECOND GIRL THE MINISTER
THIRD GIRL THE GREAT GOD PAN
FIRST YOUTH THE IDIOT
SECOND YOUTH THE IDIOT’S MOTHER
THIRD YOUTH THE CHOIR
THE BASSO THE ORGANIST
THE SOPRANO THE STRANGER
_Note_
_It must be thoroughly realized that the characters of this play are
intended to give voice to their actual, private thought of the moment;
but are intended to do so in the usual tone and manner of polite
conventionality. Their gestures and voices must be those of people
under perfectly normal conditions, and everything done to stimulate
realization by the audience of the fact that it is the secret minds of
the characters which are being portrayed. They, the characters, are
simply saying what they are really thinking in the situation in which
they are presented, instead of employing the empty social forms which
we are accustomed to hearing people actually give voice to._
AUTHOR’S PREFACE
There has always been a peculiar fascination for me in the realization
that while people were saying one thing, they were almost invariably
thinking another. In certain circumstances we all realize this to be
true, as in formal greetings and the expression of social amenities;
and we read through the convenient form with comparative ease. A
great deal of the time, however, we have to dodge about among the
deliberately misleading words used by those with whom we come in
contact, seeking here and there to find their real meaning, and this
is a confusing and tiring task: one of those vicarious expenditures of
energy of which the world has altogether too many. Words are themselves
pitfalls of misunderstanding. To each of us their meaning varies
slightly in all but the simplest forms, and even these may readily
be applied with totally different significance. As for the confusion
which intonation puts upon the spoken word, differentiating it from
the same word when written, and the mistaken interpretations resulting
therefrom, I need say nothing, as they are too widely acknowledged to
need further comment. Bergson, the eminent French philosopher, points
out that it is almost impossible really to convey anything through
so clumsy a medium as language: and the experiment of asking a group
of people to define the meaning of a simple word like “quite,” for
instance, will convince anyone of the truth of this.
Now granting that under the best of circumstances it is difficult for
us to understand each other, why is it not indeed a wasteful thing
to expend good energy on further disguise of our own thoughts? It is
infinitely easier to be as direct as words permit, and the resulting
reaction upon one’s acquaintance is intensely interesting.
However far we may be from this ideal of genuinely frank intercourse
between humans, if we possess the least curiosity about the actual
foundations upon which other people’s lives are grounded, we can never
cease from seeking to discover, or at least to guess, what is actually
passing in their minds as their lips move over some empty formula--even
when the formula is empty only from a familiarity which has brought it
into contempt, and could and should be full of most poignant meaning,
as in the case of the (omitted) sacred service in my play.
For of all places in which to look for feeling which rings high, and
words holding true meaning, a church is the most likely. And yet it was
my childish observation of those who sat around me in the bare white
church to which my grandmother took me as a little girl, that inspired
my writing of what I hold to be in no way a sacrilegious play. In those
long hours when I sat in the red cushioned pew, my feet dangling over
its edge, quick with restrained energy, my eyes fixed upon the bit
of sky beyond the tall windows over the clergyman’s head; in those
long hours I knew that I was not thinking of the words I repeated so
mechanically; and by a thousand tokens I knew that _the others about me
were not doing so either_! In every way they betrayed themselves--there
was no ecstasy upon their faces, they were infinitely more conscious
of their neighbors’ clothes than of the minister’s words. For years
I watched them, these smug, comfortable congregations, who had no
conception of the wonder and stupendous import of the service through
which they sat so calmly, and hastened forth from, with gossip hot
upon their lips. And then the notion came to me to write out all that
I guessed to be the truth about them. All that I felt artistically
_certain_ was the truth: to put into the mouths of the congregation the
things I guessed they were thinking. I do not say that I _knew_ they
were thinking so, for a positive statement is a pitfall for truth. But
I guessed at it with that same conviction of having hit it right with
which one looks into the utterly bored face of a departing guest and
guesses that his “such a delightful time” means “I have had a hateful
time.” And so I have put down the service as I heard it with my every
instinct when I was a child: and as I guessed it with my mind as an
adult.
I do not wish to convey, however, that I believe that there are no
really good people in churches. The _Contralto_, who hears the voice
of _Pan_, is a “good” woman, because she is real. Therefore she can
hear _Pan_. But like most real people she is frankly groping as far
as her religious feeling goes. She knows that it makes her happy to
sing, and to give her copper to the poor, and that both things pertain
to religion: she knows, too, that the voice of _Pan_, the earthly god
whose hoofs are pungent of meadow loam, and who speaks to the ears of
youth, and sets the good flesh a-tingle, can be heard in churches, and
that there is nothing incongruous in the fact: also she is sufficiently
well-balanced to hear him, but not to lose sanity, and so see him.
Alas! she is typical, I fear, of the minority, in which I have put her!
I have intended no propaganda in the play, save that which you may
deduce from it yourself, if you so wish. Make your own interpretations
(as indeed you will without my telling you to). I have simply been
curious: and this is the result of my exploration.
N. W. P.
Orthodoxy
_A Play in One Act_
NINA WILCOX PUTNAM
_Scene: The interior of a church. The audience sees a half-section of
the building as though it had been cut lengthwise through the near
side of the centre aisle, leaving it intact and running parallel
with and immediately behind the footlights. As the entire width of
the aisle is shown, the platform with reading-desk and minister’s
seat stands complete beneath a sort of proscenium arch. Below the
reading-desk, upon which is an enormous Bible, and occupying the end of
the aisle-carpet, is the communion table, with mottled marble top and
hideous carved legs of walnut. Below this, and extending to the aisle,
are other pews with doors, facing the pulpit in the usual manner. The
woodwork is white-painted and the pews cushioned in crimson, while the
walls are stencilled in imitation of carved mouldings. Through the row
of long, undecorated windows at the rear the sun is shining gaily, and
a glimpse of blue sky and waving trees may be had. At the right is the
organ loft, shown sectionally, and beneath this is the entrance to
the church. At rise of curtain the Sexton is discovered tidying the
church with a last few touches: closing the doors of one or two pews,
making sure that there are hymn-books in the racks and finally giving
the contribution plate a brush with his pocket-handkerchief. He is a
dyspeptic-looking man of perhaps forty years of age, whose chin recedes
timidly into the enormous folds of a ready-made four-in-hand tie. His
ill-fitting frock coat hangs loosely, but for all that he has an air of
complacent self-importance. The church-bell is ringing._
THE SEXTON
They will all look at me as they come in. I’m important on Sundays,
anyhow. What a sense of consequence it gives me to bustle about,
getting things ready! That’s what I get out of this job! The stipend is
nothing, the sentiment is nothing: but I put on these clothes and they
all look at me, whereas they would do nothing of the sort otherwise....
Now I must go and stand by the door and show them to their seats, as
they arrive.... I wonder if the town-clerk will wear the shoes I made
for him! Confound him, I wish he would pay for them!
[_He goes to the entrance door and opens it, letting in a patch of
sunlight and disclosing the steps of the building and a bit of view.
He takes up his stand just inside, facing the audience, and adjusts
his clothes self-consciously. A strange, wild laugh is heard, but the
Sexton seems not to hear it. Presently the Very Ancient Woman enters.
She is bent nearly double and walks with a stick. She is slightly
palsied and her thin, wrinkled face is clear and calm. She is the
very picture of ancient piety. The Sexton accompanies her, and each
principal who enters thereafter, to their pews, with a courtesy of
manner which utterly contradicts his language. Their manner is also a
contradiction to their words_]
THE SEXTON
Well, old crone! What a nuisance it is to have to assist your doddering
footsteps up the aisle every Sunday!
THE ANCIENT WOMAN
Thank goodness I am the first! Last Sunday the butcher’s wife got here
before me, and so I missed seeing her come in. But to-day I’ll miss no
one.
THE SEXTON [_assisting her into a pew_]
Old stupid! Tuck your skirt in, can’t you?
THE ANCIENT WOMAN [_gazing around with an air of satisfaction_]
This is fine! So much better than staying at home alone. I would not
miss it for worlds!
[_The Minister’s Wife enters with two small girl children, one on
either hand. She exchanges a surreptitious bow with the Sexton and
hurries to a front pew_]
THE MINISTER’S WIFE [_as she goes down the aisle_]
Oh, I hope the roast will not burn while I am gone! That wretched
stove! My garter hurts. Shall I be able to adjust it, I wonder?
No! Some one might see: I shall have to sit in misery. The whole
congregation will watch me; but no matter how I act, they will talk
about it afterward.... If only the children will be quiet! I will pray
for that. [_She enters the pew and kneels, burying her face in her
hands, while the little girls sit staring about, round-eyed_]
THE SEXTON [_returning to door_]
Poor woman, what a silly face she has!
[_Enter the Land Agent and his Wife_]
THE LAND AGENT [_to the Sexton_]
If this were the place to talk about such things I would tell you that
I am going to evict you to-morrow.
THE SEXTON
How you glare at me, sir! Positively, I am tempted to rob the plate in
order to pay you!
THE AGENT’S WIFE
I have on a new hat.
[_The laugh rings out again, but no one heeds_]
THE SEXTON [_smiling politely_]
Here is your pew. I wish its floor would collapse and drop you both
through.
THE AGENT’S WIFE
I have on a new hat! [_She kneels and continues repeating the sentence
softly for a moment_]
[_Enter the Butcher and his Wife_]
THE BUTCHER
Thank fortune, the All-pervading Power, if there really is any such,
cannot possibly know about that overcharge I made. He will only see
the fine waistcoat which I bought with it!
THE BUTCHER’S WIFE
How religious I look! It is so respectable to go to church with one’s
husband!
THE ANCIENT WOMAN
She has on her last summer’s gown!
THE SEXTON [_to the butcher, genially_]
I’ll beat you at pinochle yet, old man!
[_Enter three Young Girls_]
FIRST GIRL
See my new hat, see my new hat! It has pink, pink roses upon it.
SECOND GIRL
Her hat is not any better than my shoes. Look at my shoes.
THIRD GIRL
He has not come as yet!
THE SEXTON [_shows them a seat_]
Here, you charming things! How plump the eldest is: I would like to
pinch her.
THIRD GIRL [_kneeling_]
How the sexton smells of pomade: he sickens me. When will my beloved
come!
FIRST GIRL [_kneeling_]
My new hat, see my new hat, see it, see it!
SECOND GIRL [_kneeling_]
My shoes, my shoes! They hurt, but see how white they are.
[_The church fills more rapidly now, with a crowd of country folk. The
named Characters come in, forward, along the outer edge of the aisle.
The gallery begins to fill_]
[_Enter two Youths_]
THE SEXTON
Louts! You can find your own places!
THIRD GIRL
It is he! Will he not look at me?
FIRST YOUTH
There is the grocer’s daughter. How she stares! I wish she would stop
it, for she makes me uneasy. Now if it were the young matron yonder,
who looked at me once with soft eyes....
SECOND YOUTH
The grocer’s daughter will not look at me. Alas!
[_Enter Third Youth_]
THIRD YOUTH
How my shirt scratches me, how my shirt scratches me!
[_Kneels, repeating_]
[_The Organist begins to play very softly, and the Choir straggle in
and take their places_]
THE BASSO
If you don’t keep on the key this morning, Miss Soprano, I shall go mad!
THE SOPRANO
You have a wretched ear for music!
THE CHORUS [_tittering_]
We are really as good as they, the conceited things!
THE TENOR
This choir would go all to pieces if it were not for me. At least I
must contrive to keep them thinking so.
THE CONTRALTO
Oh, the music, the music! Once a week at least I can sing to the organ.
How glad I am--how glad I am to sing!
[_The laugh rings out again, and at the sound of it the Contralto
smiles and hums over her part under her breath. No one else heeds_]
[_Enter two Farmhands_]
FIRST FARMHAND
I don’t really know what it is all about, but let us sit down.
SECOND FARMHAND
No more do I understand it; but it’s very respectable.
[_Enter a Worthy Citizen and his Wife, together with a Rich Bachelor.
They talk as they walk up the aisle and become seated in the same pew_]
THE WORTHY CITIZEN [_to the Rich Bachelor_]
Our business is going well, friend, and not the less so because we show
ourselves regularly in this House!
THE RICH BACHELOR
Yes, yes! And how fine it is to know that as we walk up here, everyone
is looking and whispering, and wondering how much money we really have!
[_He kneels and murmurs_] I hope dinner will be on time to-day.
THE SEXTON
I will bow obsequiously to you, and perhaps you will lend me the money
that will save me from eviction! I hope you are seated comfortably!
[_Enter the Old Maid_]
THE OLD MAID [_hurrying primly to a front pew_]
Will the men look at me as I pass? Ah! There is no desire in their
eyes. [_Kneels in her pew_] I am a-weary, blowing on cold ashes!
THE SEXTON
Ah! She was a wild one when I was a boy, the slut! The village never
found her out, though!
[_Enter a Common Woman with her son, the village Idiot. They seat
themselves mid-way down the aisle, in direct line with one of the
gaunt windows, the sash of which is half open. During the scene which
follows, the Idiot keeps staring at this window, where presently
appears the Great God Pan. Pan it is who has been laughing, and he
seats himself upon the sill, where he and the Idiot can see each other.
They talk on terms of old intimacy, using many gestures, and are
entirely oblivious to everything save each other. No one but the Idiot
sees Pan or hears what he says, nor what the Idiot says to him. When
the Idiot speaks to Pan, his language is intelligible. When he replies
to his mother’s rebuke, he is able to make nothing but a terrible,
meaningless sound in his throat. The Contralto, in the organ loft,
seems to realize Pan is present, but she cannot see him. The tolling of
the bell ceases, and the Minister, a smug young man in a white stock,
walks briskly up the aisle, a Bible under his arm_]
THE MINISTER
Ah! They can never begin without Me! I am the whole show, here! It is
really a very desirable job, mine!
[_He goes to the platform, mounts the steps and, standing behind the
reading-desk, half closes his eyes, stretching out his hands to the
Congregation, who lean forward in prayer_]
THE MINISTER [_as though praying_]
Lean forward uncomfortably now, all of you, and listen, or don’t
listen, exactly as you like. But do steal a covert look at me, as
I stand here in this picturesque and sanctified attitude. Here we
are, gathered together in this house, and I can’t think of a single
original thing to say, try as I will. I am going to be very dull, I
know, but it gives me a sort of pleasant sense of importance to be
doing it, and it will be over in about an hour, and then we will all be
at liberty to go our several ways. Amen!
[_During the dialogue between Pan and the Idiot, the Minister and the
congregation go on with the motions of the service_]
THE IDIOT [_to Pan_]
Hello! Won’t you come in?
PAN
It is warmer here in the sunlight.
THE IDIOT
I will come out to you presently. Can you see the ocean from there?
PAN
Yes. I was down upon the sands early this morning and saw....
[_His voice is lost in the sound of the Congregation singing, although
the two are seen to go on talking unconcernedly. The Congregation has
arisen and sings_]:
Praise Gold from which all blessings flow,
Praise it ye creatures here below;
Praise it all ye Heavenly Hosts,
Slave for gold till ye give up your ghosts!
[_The Congregation resumes its seats_]
PAN
... and the leaves all caressed each other and laughed for love of it!
THE IDIOT
And did the south wind _never_ come back?
PAN
O yes! The south wind it was that played about the barren branches
this very spring, coaxing the young leaves to come out again. She and
the sun, you know, are lovers, and I will tell you a story about them,
which a famous Greek historian, who was my good friend, wrote. You see
it came about thus.... [_Pan’s voice is drowned out by that of the
Minister_]
THE MINISTER
We will now read the ninth selection of the psalter, page one hundred
and twenty. The ninth selection.
My son, forget not my law: but let thine heart keep my commandments.
THE CONGREGATION
For length of days, and long life and peace, shall they add to thee.
THE MINISTER
Let not cunning and deceit forsake thee: bind them about thy neck;
write them upon the tablets of thy heart.
THE CONGREGATION
So shalt thou find favor and good understanding in the sight of man.
THE MINISTER
Trust in Gold with all thy heart; and lean not unto thine own
understanding.
THE CONGREGATION
In all ways acknowledge Gold, and it shall direct thy paths.
THE MINISTER
Be wise in thine own eyes; fear Good and depend on evil.
THE CONGREGATION
It shall be health to thy navel and marrow to thy bones.
THE MINISTER
Honor Success with thy substance, and with the first fruits of all
thine increase.
THE CONGREGATION
So shall thy barrels be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst
out with new wine.
THE MINISTER
Happy is the man that findeth cunning and getteth unscrupulous.
THE CONGREGATION
For the merchandise of it is begotten of the merchandise of silver, and
the gain thereof, fine gold.
PAN
... And there they lay upon the bank of scented ferns, until her
sister, the west wind, drew away the grey curtain of night, while Mrs.
Aurora extinguished the stars, one by one, and raised her flaming
shield against the eastern horizon!
THE IDIOT
A lovely story, that! But who is Mrs. Aurora?
PAN
A light lady of my acquaintance, much given to chariot-racing, I regret
to say. A noisy party, not scrupling to awaken sleepers!
THE IDIOT
Tell me about her.
PAN
Some other day. Is not one story sufficient for one morning?
THE IDIOT
Well, it was a beautiful story! I will repeat it to the rivulets on the
hillside, that they may babble it over, and have it memorized in time
to tell it to the sea, when they shall reach it!
PAN
Hast seen those young robins yet--the ones of which I told you? Your
tutoring would help them learn to fly. Be sure now that this afternoon
you go....
THE MINISTER
We will now rise and unite as nearly as possible in singing hymn number
five hundred and fifteen. Hymn number five hundred and fifteen.
THE CONGREGATION [_sings_]
The Church’s one foundation
Has long been lost to sight,
It now is the creation
Of greed, convention, fright.
From honest superstition,
Full long we have been free,
But still we must maintain
Re-spec-ta-bil-i-ty!
Amen!
THE IDIOT [_clapping his hands loudly, and jumping up and down with
glee at some suggestion of Pan’s_]
That will be fine! And afterward, we will dance!
THE IDIOT’S MOTHER [_shaking him by the shoulder_]
Stop staring and mouthing at that window!
[_The Idiot makes a terrible, inarticulate sound in reply to her. It is
evident that he cannot talk to humans_]
THE MINISTER
The lesson for to-day will be found in the third verse of the
thirty-second chapter of the book of Exodus. “And all the people brake
off the golden earrings which were in their ears, and brought them unto
Aaron. And he received them at their hand, and fashioned it with a
graving tool, after he had made it a molten calf: and they said, these
be thy Gods, O Israel....”
THE IDIOT [_together with Pan_]
O joy! O joy!
THE IDIOT’S MOTHER [_angry_]
Shut up, can’t you! This is no place for such things!
[_The Idiot repeats his inarticulate noise_]
PAN
As I was about to remark....
THE MINISTER
Let us pray! Oh, darn it all! I have to make this prayer longer than
the first! I have to talk on and on and on and on for twenty minutes.
If I talk less, I’ll hear of it from the deacons. On and on and on and
on! One eye on the clock, though both eyes appear shut! On and on! Is
the time up yet? No! Two minutes more! On and on and on! Just filling
the time with meaningless words. Ah! Time’s up!... and hear us as we
say [_the Congregation joins him_] Our Father, who art a safe distance
away in a hypothetical place called Heaven, give us this day our daily
bread and all the other things we want: give us, give us, give us,
give, give, give! Amen!
PAN [_laughs loudly_]
You have hit it right! The interesting things in life are the difficult
ones--and to prove it, this very afternoon we will hang garlands on the
guinea-pigs’ tails, shoe the snakes’ feet, and make a portrait of the
wind!
THE IDIOT
Won’t that be clever of us? And useful, too!
THE MINISTER
The notices for the week are as follows. On Tuesday evening at half
past seven, the Mothers’ Meeting will take place. It will be attended
chiefly by old maids, as usual. Wednesday evening, the Missionary
Society will meet in the chapel, as heretofore. Mr. O. Phool will speak
about the vital necessity of neglecting our own slums entirely, and
sending out a few more or less illiterate men and women to try and
uproot the ancient philosophic religion of China. All are welcome.
On Thursday evening the usual bluff, very similar to this present
one, will be held in the chapel. Our neighbor, the church in the next
town, extends a well-calculated invitation to the members of this
congregation to attend the unveiling of a perfectly ridiculous monument
which they have erected in memory of the late Bishop of this diocese.
They hope all of you will come and help make a good crowd. The Sunday
morning Institution for Befogging the Minds of the Young will take
place in the basement of this church immediately after this service.
All are welcome to stay and gloat over it. You will now be fleeced of
the usual money in the usual fashion. I hope you will all contribute
generously. Inasmuch as my salary comes out of it, this is always a
rather anxious and embarrassing time for me. So I will retire behind
the desk and try to look unconscious.
[_The Minister seats himself. The organ plays softly, and the Sexton,
taking the plate from the communion table, passes it along the aisle.
The Congregation speak as they drop in their offerings_]
THE ANCIENT WOMAN
My usual small bit. The show is worth it!
THE MINISTER’S WIFE
My copper, for appearance sake. Oh, that roast of beef in the oven at
home!
THE LAND AGENT
Half a dollar, or they will think my business is failing!
THE SEXTON
Stingy!
THE BUTCHER
A part of that overcharge, just in case. ... it will ease my mind.
FIRST YOUNG GIRL
See what a dainty hand I have!
SECOND YOUNG GIRL
I hope that he whom I love sees how generously I give!
THIRD YOUNG GIRL
I had far rather buy a ribbon with it!
THE SEXTON [_turning from them with a critical air_]
The eldest is not so attractive after all: she has a pimple on her chin!
FIRST YOUTH
I will put in nothing, for my friend here is going to put in two coins,
and if I make the motions of contributing, no one but the sexton will
know....
[_Second Youth contributes_]
THIRD YOUTH
I would not give this were it not that I still have enough to buy a
drink with later!
THE BASSO [_to the Soprano, who apparently agrees with him_]
We are lucky to escape that. They don’t pass the plate up here!
THE CONTRALTO [_to herself_]
I will keep my little coin to drop in the poor-box as I go out.
[_Pan laughs and she smiles at him, not seeing, but only hearing him_]
FIRST FARMHAND
It’s cruel to make us give up part of a hard-earned wage for this!
THE RICH BACHELOR
This gives me pride! I am sure no one else will give as much as I do!
[_The Idiot repeats his inarticulate sound_]
HIS MOTHER
Shut up! Don’t disgrace me just as I’m giving a decent bit of money to
the plate!
THE OLD MAID
I will fumble with my purse as long as possible, that you may be
obliged to stand near, man!
THE SEXTON
Ugh! There is a vile odor of peppermint about you. [_Turning away with
the plate, and looking the coins over furtively_]
Bah! A wretched collection! But see how magnificently I will march up
the aisle with it!
[_The Sexton retires_]
PAN
Yes, dear comrade, with pleasure! Here is a handful of fresh air for
you! [_He makes a gesture of tossing. A breeze blows in_]
THE IDIOT
Thanks! I drink your health with it!
THE MINISTER
Let us try to sing in the same time and key, the hymn number five
hundred and twenty-four. Hymn number five hundred and twenty-four!
THE CONGREGATION [_sings_]
From Greenland’s icy mountains
To India’s coral strand,
Where Afric’s sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand,
From every ancient city
From modern town or old,
We hear the single cry of
“O let us work for gold!”
Amen!
THE IDIOT
I sing, I sing! [_Repeats his inarticulate sound_]
HIS MOTHER
Be still, fool!
PAN
I laugh! Ha! Ha!
[_The Idiot and Pan laugh together_]
THE MINISTER
My text for to-day will be found in the third verse of the sixth
chapter of St. Matthew: “Let not thy left hand know what thy right
hand doeth.” I use this text because it is a popular one: one which we
are all pretty well in sympathy with, and live by, conscientiously,
rather than because it has anything so very much to do with my sermon.
However, that is of little importance, for it is possible to twist
any text into any desired meaning: indeed its breadth of meaning is
dependent only upon the wit of the minister, and if I was quicker
of wit, you would not stand for what I would then wish to preach.
Neither, my brethren, would I be here in this stupid little town:
I’d be in a swell church in a big city, where the women would make
me really valuable presents! Well, I suppose I’d better get back to
the text, although, of course, it’s much more amusing to me to talk
about myself. “Let not thy right hand know what thy left hand doeth!”
Reflect, dear friends, on the beauty of that thought--on its practical
common sense! We all know how desirable is the ability to fool
ourselves, and how comparatively few of us have attained perfection
in that art. But we can--if we strive earnestly--we can _all_ acquire
the habit of fooling ourselves part of the time: in other words, we
can do one thing with one hand, and actually blind ourselves as to
what we are doing with the other, even though it counteracts the first
action entirely! We can beam kindly on our neighbor and lend him money
at usury, and then give instructions to a secret partner to foreclose
on that neighbor at the earliest opportunity. How simple. Yet the
application of this great maxim--“Let not thy right hand know”--can
be made even more simple and direct. We can, for example, shake hands
with a man with our right hand, and abstract his watch with our left!
In this case, plainly, our hands are doing exactly opposite things.
Your innocent right hand, and your equally innocent left, are blameless
because you have stood between them, obeying the precept of the great
author of our text! Never, my friends, my brethren, never believe
but that you can live in accordance with the teachings of the great
prophets and, more especially, by the examples set forth in the book
of books! Think not that all the examples set forth therein are too
difficult for modern humanity to attain! It is not so, my brethren,
it is not so! Did not David steal his neighbor’s wife? He did! And
who was it got a vineyard by a false foreclosure, but his son? Can
not this sort of thing be done to-day? It can, my brethren, it can,
if you will but try hard enough! And many villainies beside, all of
which you can justify, if you will, by precedent in the book of
books! Try it, my friends--try it, I beg of you. Strive earnestly,
and you will find that you can do pretty nearly anything and get away
with it, provided you come here regularly, and so, keep my job going
for me. Remember, that if you are sufficiently orthodox, the Bible is
infallible. Whether you live by the first half of it or by the second,
is really of no importance to the church. You must simply acknowledge
its infallibility, and then choose your half. I advise the older part.
The Bible is infallible. You believe in it: therefore you are orthodox.
The Bible is infallible, but it is contradictory. So is infallibility.
Infallibly so! So perhaps contradiction is infallible.
Now that I have given you a sermon which you did not feel obliged to
listen to (in accordance with the terms of my contract) instead of what
I would like to say, I will stop. If you really knew what I honestly
believe, you would be astonished. But it is better for you to remain
in ignorance, and better for me. Indeed, a slightly altered form of
to-day’s text would fit me admirably. “Let not thy right mind know
what thy wrong is doing, lest you go mad!” [_He closes his eyes and
stretches out his hands_] And now one short prayer more. This is the
last, thank fortune, and the least difficult. I’ll just say a word or
two further. That will do. Amen!
[_The Choir sings alone, the Congregation standing_]
THE CHOIR [_sings_]
Praise to the leading social light,
And to the rich sing praise:
But most of all let’s praise ourselves,
No matter what our ways.
Amen!
[_Tune, dox. 566_]
THE MINISTER [_with outstretched hands_]
Let us go to dinner! Amen!
[_The instant the Minister stops speaking, the Congregation begins to
bustle out, most indecorously, all talking at once_]
PAN [_above the din of talk_]
Meet you at the door, comrade! Ha! ha! ha! ha! [_He leaps down and
disappears_]
[_The Idiot rushes off from his mother, unreproved. Gradually the
crowd thins out, with characteristic action on the part of the named
characters, until there is no one left except the Sexton, who is busy
with the collection-plate, by the pulpit. A wait. Then, into the vivid
patch of sunlight at the open door, there steps the ragged form of a
Stranger. He is young, but bearded, and wears a voluminous cloak of
rough material. He is bare-footed, bare-headed, and carries a long
staff like a shepherd’s crook. The sun is vivid behind his golden head_]
THE STRANGER [_entering only as far as the doorsill_]
What a fine place this is!
THE SEXTON [_putting the collection money into his pocket and hurrying
down the aisle in a fine rage at sight of the shabby intruder_]
Yes, a very fine and expensive building. But you will have to get out.
I am closing up!
THE STRANGER [_retreats a trifle before the rough gesture of the
Sexton_]
Closing so fine and large a house! Is it left empty, then?
THE SEXTON
All the week. Why not?
THE STRANGER
Empty all through the week! Then perhaps I can find lodging here!
THE SEXTON
Ha! ha! _Lodging here_! Ho! ho! That’s a good one! [_They step out on
to the porch, the Sexton pushing out the Stranger_] Lodging. Oh! ha!
ha! Don’t you recognize this place, don’t you know what place this is?
THE STRANGER
What strange place is it?
THE SEXTON
Why, you idiot! It is the house of God!
[_He shuts the door with a bang, closing himself and the Stranger out.
The key is heard to turn in the lock, raspingly_]
CURTAIN
Transcriber’s Note:
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- Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
- Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice.
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