XX. APOTHEOSIS OF THE DAUGHTERS OF JOHN BULL.

(Scenes of disappointment in Paradise in the year 19..)

Jennie.—“My dear Susie! At last! How glad I am to see you!”

Susie.—“At last! my dear: why at last? I came straight up ... without any hitch, as you may imagine.”

Jennie.—“Oh! of course ... I only thought ... that is, you used to long so after Paradise ... that I began to wonder that you were so long making up your mind to leave the vale of tears and misery: ... would you believe there were moments when I used to be almost afraid you would put an end to yourself?”

Susie.—“Well, yes: I certainly used to long to be gone. But it is so hard to be sure that one is ready. No, I used to pray that I might be permitted to serve Him long on the earth, where He has so few servants; and I would say to myself: The longer I live the more good I shall be able to do.”

Jennie.—“Yes, I quite understand you, dear ... besides, between ourselves, it is all very well to run down that poor Earth, but it has its redeeming points, you know.... By the way, I must tell you, I have such an anxiety on my mind. Do you know, I have been searching everywhere for my husband for years ... I have been into every corner of the place, and there is not a soul whom I have not asked if the poor fellow had been seen.... He has not arrived yet, that is evident; ... and I can’t help telling you that I begin to be dreadfully afraid....”

Susie.—“Your husband, my love? He is getting on capitally: he is the picture of health, and seems to grow younger every day.”

Jennie.—“You don’t mean it! Is it possible! I had been told he was inconsolable, and was wasting away. Poor dear! I fancy I see him now as he stood by my bedside. ‘If you go, I shall not be long for this world,’ he said to me.”

Susie.—“Ah! well, my dear, make your mind easy, he is better, he has got over it.”

Jennie.—“Heaven be praised! And yet—I know it’s selfishness—but I should like to have him here with me.”

Susie.—“But has nobody told you he is married?...”

Jennie.—“Married! I don’t believe a word of it.”

Susie.—“It is true enough, though. I took tea with his wife not more than a fortnight ago.”

Jennie.—“Fancy the wretch! What a set the men are to be sure!... And what woman has been mad enough to tie herself to him? the old grumbler, old tyrant, old miser ... the....”

Susie.—“Hush, my love; remember where you are.... Besides, between ourselves, I don’t believe he is over happy.”

Jennie.—“Serve him right ... the idea ... at his age too.... Perhaps he thought he was going to be married for his good looks, the idiot!”

Susie.—“At his age! He calls himself fifty-five....”

Jennie.—“He tells falsehoods; he is sixty, and over.... Oh! if ever I come across him here!... I....”

Susie.—“He has married a very religious woman ... she makes him go to every service ... he is a pattern to all his townsmen.”

Jennie.—“It just serves him right! but who is the woman?”

Susie.—“Sarah Robinson.”

Jennie.—“What! the widow of Robinson, the chemist of High Street?”

Susie.—“Just so.”

Jennie.—“And you say she is religious! Well well, she must have changed since my time, and no mistake. Of course, you know the stories that used to be told about her.... She was no better than she should be, my dear, that is certain ... and....”

Susie.—“Well, she is a model of piety now.”

Jennie.—“Oh! enough of this subject. There, let us talk of something else.... Let me see, when was it you arrived here?”

Susie.—“Yesterday morning, at twenty past eight. Everything seems so strange to me ... this calm ... but what I can’t get over is to see the negroes, the Chinese, the savages; what a number of them are here! ... those that our missionaries converted, I suppose. What a blessed work, our foreign missions! Only I fancy all those converts ought to have a place ... how shall I explain myself? ... marked out for them. To speak candidly, I quite expected to see our glorious nation treated with a great deal more consideration than it seems to be.”

Jennie.—“Yes, isn’t it strange? I can’t understand it at all.”

Susie.—“Would you believe it, I had to wait two mortal hours at the gate yesterday morning, and, when at last my turn came, Saint Peter never even got up to welcome me ... and pay me a compliment or two?... It would have been nothing but polite, I am sure; for, after all, where would Paradise be without us? Who is it that proclaims the glory of God at the four corners of the universe, I should like to know?”

Jennie.—“Yes, indeed; who but ourselves? I can assure you I am very disappointed. Where is the realisation of all the promises our dear minister used to hold out to us?... The kingdom of heaven is England’s inheritance; we are the chosen of the Lord ... and I don’t know what else.... It looks to me as if anybody could get in.... It is very mixed, to say the least. We are treated just like anybody else ... positively if I was not seated between a Cardinal and a Zulu at the Seraphim’s concert last night!”

Susie.—“Can it be possible?”

Jennie.—“It is a fact ... I have even been assured ... but I’ll never believe it unless I see it ... that there were.... But, just look how everyone is crowding towards the great entrance gate ... who can have arrived?”

Surely enough the noise of trumpets, tambourines, cornets, concertinas, a frightful hubbub, had just burst on the ears of the elect, who were rushing to the gate to find out the meaning of these sounds, so strange in those regions of rest and harmony. In the midst of the crowd of new-comers was to be seen a woman brandishing an umbrella, gesticulating, vociferating, and appearing to be in a state of great indignation. Saint Peter had just made his way through the agitated crowd.

Saint Peter.—“My children, calm yourselves, I beg. And you, madam, come in quietly, please; we allow no such noises here. What is it you want?”

Mrs. Bull.—“Well, I never! you seem to take a very high tone with me, I fancy; who are you to speak to me like that?”

Saint Peter.—“I am Saint Peter; and you?”

Mrs. B.—“Indeed! and what if you are? Do you think you are going to have it all your own way here? Do you know that I am a Field-Marshal of the Salvation Army?”

Saint Peter.—“Madam; not so loud, pray.”

Mrs. B.—“Six thousand soldiers under my orders. We will see if I am to be treated anyhow. The idea! A pretty reception for a woman like me!”

Saint Peter.—“Will you listen to me a moment?”

Mrs. B.—“A contributor to the War Cry, the official gazette of the elect ... a million copies printed every week ... three-hundred thousand pounds receipts ... original inventor of the blood-and-fire pomade and tooth paste ... admiral of the Salvation Fleet.”

Saint Peter.—“Can you spare a moment that I may put in....”

Mrs. B.—“Barracks all over England ... allies all over the world.”

Saint Peter.—“Will you allow me to....”

Mrs. B.—“It is easy to see that nobody reads the papers here, or you would all know who I am. Who am I indeed! (turning to her suite). Did you ever hear such a thing? Who am I?”

Saint Peter.—“But, once more, madam....”

Mrs. B.—“Wait a minute, I will just introduce you to my staff ... you will see who I am ... who we are.... Sallie, speak to the gentleman.”

Saint Peter.—“But I have no time to listen to....”

Happy Sallie.—“I am the American tambourinist.... I rescue souls tambour battant.”

Mary Ann.—“I am Captain of the 4th detachment ... allow me to play you a hymn of my own composition” (takes up her cornet).

Betsy.—“I am the solo-singer of Clapton Barracks; let me sing you something.”

Saint Peter.—“My good people, do you take these sacred regions for a Whitsuntide fair? Dear, dear! who sends me all these folks up here? Will you have done this moment; it’s horrible!”

Mrs. B.—“Now then, make room for my followers, and let us be shown to the Seraphs’ Hall....”

Saint Peter.—“My worthy friends, I am ready to forgive you. You have got into the wrong train: your tickets are for Bedlam.... Have the goodness to retire.”

Mrs. B.—“Retire! Ah! if the General were only here, we should not be treated like this. We call upon you to show us to the places that are reserved for us.”

Saint Peter.—“I do not know you.”

Susie.—“I play the Alleluiah trombone.”

Saint Peter.—“There they are, at it again! Go to Jericho, with your Alleluiah trombone, your tambourines, your field-marshal, your captains, and blood and fire soldiers.... Those English people will drive me mad.... Once more, will you move on? You see very well that you are causing an obstruction, there are elect behind you who cannot pass in.... Upon my word, those English people look upon Paradise as a British possession. (All at once the sweetest music is heard; the sound of harps becomes more and more audible.) My friends, have the goodness to stand quite still for a few minutes in a respectful attitude, whilst these blessed ones are passing.” (Twelve seraphs, resplendent with light, advance, preceded by lutes and harps; they smile as they pass before Saint Peter; they continue on their way.)

Mrs. B.—“Who are those blessed ones so dazzling with light?”

Saint Peter.—“They are six-winged seraphs of the first hierarchy, who have been here nearly five hundred years; and I may take the opportunity of telling you that they have never given me the slightest trouble. Gentle, peaceful....”

Mrs. B.—“But who were they on earth? To what sect did they belong?”

Saint Peter.—“They are Incas, of the ancient empire of Peru.”

Mrs. B.—“What! savages! people who wear rings in their noses! Well, I never thought to be insulted like this.”

Saint Peter.—“A more virtuous people never existed on earth, madam; it is virtue put into practice that we reward here, and not fine-sounding theories. In our eyes, he who has given a drop of water and a morsel of bread to a poor fellow-creature is more worthy than he who has discovered a new interpretation of the Holy Scriptures. He who has done a good deed without ostentation, stands higher here than he who has sounded a trumpet, and gone to publish his virtue in the streets and temples. But I should only be wasting time if I tried to explain these things, which do not seem to be in your line. Consider yourselves very fortunate not to be turned out of doors with your trumpets, your drums, and all your noisy and warlike trappings ... and I will trouble you to pass on into the gardens to repose yourselves after your journey, and meditate upon the indulgence of....”

Mrs. B.—“Well, this is the climax! A sermon to me...! (to her companions): Let us go in, my friends; and we must have patience, I suppose. The General cannot fail to be here before very long. We will then form a committee, and call an immense meeting of all the English people that are here ... we will see if it is not possible to place the keys of Paradise in better hands. (To Saint Peter): Au revoir, Saint Peter, we shall meet again.”

While this little scene had been passing at the entrance of Paradise, two of our old friends had just met at the corner of one of the prettiest groves in the realms of the elect.

Mrs. Goodman.—“My dear Bartie! It is you, at last!”

The Reverend B. Goodman.—“Ah! my love, you here! How good it is to see a face one recognises! Come and sit with me a little on this seat. (They sit down.) What a lot you must have to tell me!... Well?”

Mrs. G.—“Well?”

Rev. B. G.—“What a disenchantment, eh!”

Mrs. G.—“If we had only known!”

Rev. B. G.—“If we could only send a messenger down to tell all those worthy people!”

Mrs. G.—“Well! and how about your theory of the ten tribes found? To hear you talk, my poor Bartie, there was going to be no room here for anybody but ourselves....”

Rev. B. G.—“I can’t make it out at all; it bewilders me. Just fancy, my dear, I arrived here last week in the company of a bishop. At the gate, Saint Peter asked us for our names and qualifications. I was not long getting through mine, of course; then up speaks the bishop, in his finest tones, and says: ‘John Thomas, lord-bishop of * * *’ ‘Bishop!’ replies Saint Peter, ‘well ... never mind, you may come in all the same.’ Now, what do you think of that all the same?”

Mrs. G.—“Insolent in the extreme. Ah! my dear, that’s nothing.... Ever since I have been here, I have had constant mortifications; my nerves are irritated every moment by what I see and hear—it is to be hoped I shall get used to it—but it is very trying.... Turn this way.”

Rev. B. G.—“What for?”

Mrs. G.—“Don’t look, I tell you; there are the Watsons just passing; I don’t want to speak to them.... Fancy their being here! I am sure I always thought they would be cooked! ... rolling in riches, and yet putting threepenny bits in the collection-box! ... and refusing to subscribe to the old spire restoration fund. They got in cheaply, and no mistake!... It is all very well to talk, but the best way of proving your interest in a good cause is to put your hand in your pocket.... Ah! one sees strange things here.... I hope you mean to speak at the meeting, Bartie dear?”

Rev. B. G.—“What meeting, my love?”

Mrs. G.—“What meeting? Ah! my poor dear, don’t you know anything about it? Really, one would think you had just fallen here from the moon.... How like you!... Alas! always the same apathy; you have not changed a bit. But thanks be, there are energetic people here, who have the grievances of their countrymen at heart ... we shall protest against the indifference that we meet with on all sides here. We shall call attention to all that we have done on earth, stand upon our rights, and get up a petition.”

Rev. B. G.—“I suppose you belong to the organising committee?”

Mrs. G.—“I have placed all my energy at the disposal of the committee. Ever since I have been here I have been longing to devote my feeble powers to the revindication of our rights to the undivided heritage of the highest abode in the realms of the blessed.... Saint Peter, who, I am bound to say, is very obliging, has kindly consented to take the chair.... I have had such a great deal to do.”

Rev. B. G.—“As secretary?”

Mrs. G.—“Exactly: the part of organising secretary is one that I have always had a great taste for, as you know ... one does not change at my age. Do you see all those people going towards the orange gardens? it is there that the meeting is to be held.... There are the Watsons coming back this way; ... they are evidently going to the meeting. Well, all I can say is, they must be bare-faced enough to go and protest ... however!... Look! positively, they have espied us.... Let us get up ... it is impossible to avoid them now.”

Mrs. Watson.—“Ah! it is our dear vicar! dear Mrs. Goodman, what a happy thing! at last, thanks to the initiative taken by zealous compatriots, we are to carry our complaints before the tribunal of justice.... In an hour the meeting begins.... Shall we walk together?”

Mrs. G.—“With pleasure.”

Mrs. W.—“On the way we shall be able to talk of old times and the friends we left in our dear little town.... Ah! Mrs. Goodman, they little dream of what we are doing on their behalf.”

Mrs. G.—(Aside to her husband)—“What impudence! we indeed!”

(The group, now followed by an immense crowd, proceeds towards the orange gardens.)

GRAND DEMONSTRATION. INDIGNATION MEETING.

Saint Peter took the chair at eight o’clock precisely. In a few graceful and feeling remarks he explained the object of the meeting and then called upon the secretary to read to the audience the minutes of the last meeting of the organising committee.

Mrs. G.—(This lady on rising was greeted with three rounds of applause.)—“Blessed Saint, ladies and gentlemen. At its last meeting the temporary committee of organisation arrived at the following decision: ‘Whereas from time immemorial, those of the elect who are of British origin have made fruitless complaints on the subject of the treatment which they meet with in Paradise, the committee decides upon holding a meeting of the said elect to take into consideration the best means of putting an end to such a regrettable state of things, a state of things which threatens to disturb the harmony of these blessed realms.’”

The President.—“I call upon Miss Evvins to address the meeting.”

Miss Evvins.—“Against the fact that all nations seem to reign here, we have nothing to say. That the divine mercy should embrace even the most irreligious people, we can comprehend, and we bow to such a decision; but when we see people who were converted by our own paid missionaries, for instance, occupying places here higher than our own, and treated with respect that is not bestowed upon ourselves, we think it our duty to protest against such a state of things. If each one is to be rewarded according to his work we certainly do not receive our due. We might as well be mere Zulus.” (Groans and hisses.)

A Zulu.—“My ancestors, it is true, practised virtue; but I can assure the honourable speaker, that since we made the acquaintance of the English, we have not been much better than they.”

Several voices.—“Turn him out!” (The Zulu is seized upon and ejected.)

Miss Evvins.—“It is by persuasion, and not by violent means, that we wish to obtain redress for our grievances....”

Mrs. B.—“I ask to be allowed to say a few words.”

Miss E.—“We have drawn up a petition to this effect, which we shall ask you to sign, and which is worded as follows: ‘Considering that the British nation is the most virtuous on earth, and that she alone sets an example to the world by her piety, her religious researches, her religious associations, her respect for petty nations, her chivalry towards oppressed peoples, her contempt for filthy lucre, her sobriety, and other no less virtuous qualities; the undersigned members of the great and glorious British family humbly ask that such virtue may receive the reward it deserves.’” (Hear, hear.)

The Rev. B. Goodman.—“I should like to propose an amendment, or rather to suggest a change in the wording of the petition that we have just heard read.”

The President.—“The Reverend Mr. Goodman will propose an amendment.”

Mrs. B.—“I asked leave to speak before the reverend gentleman.”

The President.—“We will hear you after.”

Mrs. B.—“I want to speak at once....”

The President.—“I tell you that....”

Mrs. B.—“I protest. It’s a shame!”

The President.—“But I tell you, you shall....”

Mrs. B.—“I will speak all the same. You make a grand mistake, if you think my mouth is to be closed in that fashion. I can tell you all, that we shall obtain nothing by persuasion. Here, as well as in the world we have left, it is by strong measures and threats that one obtains one’s ends.” (Order, order.)

The President.—“You have already despised my authority. If you use threats, I shall refuse you permission to speak further....”

Mrs. B.—“It is a swindle!” (Order, order.)

The President (rising).—“Retract the word swindle. Do you imagine yourself in Seven Dials?”

Mrs. B.—“I shall retract nothing. If in a week’s time, I am not placed on a throne resplendent with light, I shall make myself objectionable: I shall break the park railings, pull up the flowers, trample on the beds, and turn everything upside down.... I will keep you busy, I promise you. I have only just come.... I’ll get up a meeting of my own, by-and-bye....”

The President.—“I order the expulsion of the interrupter.” (After a great struggle, in which the lady, looking like a destroying angel, strikes out right and left, she is turned out, not without difficulty.)

The President.—“Now that order is restored, I call upon the Reverend Mr. Goodman to address the meeting.”

Rev. B. G.—“In place of the words, ‘Considering that the British nation is the most virtuous on earth,’ I propose that the following be substituted: ‘Considering that the British nation is none other than the lost ten tribes of the House of Israel, the holy nation chosen of the Lord.’ Ladies and gentlemen, I am thoroughly convinced that....”

A voice (interrupting).—“But, as the Lord reigns in these realms, would it not be much more simple to ask Him if we really are, as the reverend gentleman declares, His chosen people? It seems to me that, by adopting this course, a great deal of time and trouble might be saved.”

Several voices.—“Let the amendment be put to the meeting.”

The amendment is voted almost unanimously.

The President announces that thirty millions, four hundred and ninety-five thousand, nine hundred and sixty-four persons have expressed the desire to address the meeting for the purpose of enumerating the different virtues of the British people in general, and the meritorious deeds of each one in particular. But, seeing that the hour is advanced, and that, besides, the petition is agreed to, he proposes to declare the meeting at an end.

After a unanimous vote of thanks to the President for the courtesy with which he acceded to the wishes of the Committee, and the kindness with which he promised to attend to the petition, the meeting broke up at a quarter to twelve.