Part 12 (2/2)
This little book was flanked by what appeared to be a semi-jocular work called _Who Said Reredos?_ and bore upon its cover the already distinguished name of Samuel Hamlyn, Jr. The eye fell upon that popular pamphlet in a wrapper of vivid scarlet--now in its sixtieth thousand--known as _Bow to the ”Altar” and Light b.l.o.o.d.y Mary's Torture Fires Again_.
_As Soon Pay the Devil as the Priest_ lay by the side of a more elaborately bound volume on which was the portrait of a lady. Beneath the picture appeared the words of the t.i.tle, _My Escape; or, How I Became a Protestant_, by Jane Pritchett.
Two clerks wrote in the ledgers on the desks, attended to visitors, and looked after what was known in the office as the ”counter trade”--to distinguish it from the sale of Protestant literature in bulk, which was managed direct from the ”Luther League Printing Works, Hornham, N.”
A second room opening into the general office was tenanted by the a.s.sistant secretary of the League, Mr. Samuel Hamlyn, Junior. Here the walls were decorated with scourges, horribly knotted and thonged; ”Disciplines,” which were belts and armlets of sharp iron p.r.i.c.kles, designed to wear the skin of the toughest Ritualist into an open sore after three days' wear. There were also two hair s.h.i.+rts, apparently the worse for wear, and a locked bookcase of Ritualistic literature with a little _index expurgatorius_ in the neat, clerkly writing of Sam Hamlyn, and compiled by that gentleman himself.
In this chamber of horrors, the a.s.sistant secretary delighted to move and have his being, and three or four times a day it was his pleasing duty to show friends of the League and its yearly subscribers, the penitential machinery by which the priest-ridden public was secretly invited to hoist itself to heaven.
The innermost room of all was where Mr. Hamlyn, Senior, himself transacted the multifarious and growing business of his organisation.
The secretary sat at a large roll-top desk, and a substantial safe stood at his right hand. An air of brisk business pervaded this sanctum. The directories, almanacs, and account-books all contributed to it, and the end of a speaking-tube, which led to the outer office, was clipped to the arm of the revolving chair.
Three portraits adorned the wall. From a ma.s.sive gold frame the features of that fiery Protestant virgin, Miss Pritchett, stared blandly down into the room. Opposite it was a large photograph of Mr. Hamlyn himself, with upraised hand and parted lips--in the very act and att.i.tude of making one of his now familiar protests. The third in this trio of Protestant champions was a drawing of Martin Luther himself, ”representing the Reformer,” as Mr. Hamlyn was wont to say, ”singing for joy at the waning power of Rome.” The artist of this picture, however, being a young gentleman of convivial tastes, had portrayed the ”Nightingale of Wittemberg” in a merry mood, remembering, perhaps, Carlyle's remark, ”there is laughter in this Luther,” or perhaps--as is indeed most probable--remembering little of the great man but his authors.h.i.+p of the ditty that concludes:
Who loves not women, wine, and song Will be a fool his whole life long.
Fortunately, Mr. Hamlyn, whose historical studies had been extremely restricted, did not know of this effort--just as he did not know that to the end of his life the student of Erfurt steadily proclaimed his belief in the Real Presence in the Eucharist.
About ten o'clock on a grey, cold November morning, the two Hamlyns arrived at the offices of the Luther League together, walked briskly up the stairs, and, with a curt ”good morning” to the clerks, entered the innermost room together.
People who had known the father and son six months ago, seeing them now, would have found a marked, though subtle, difference in both of them.
They were much better dressed, for one thing. The frock-coats were not made in Hornham, the silk hats were glossy and with the curly brims of the fas.h.i.+on. Both still suggested a more than nodding acquaintance with religious affairs in their costume, some forms of Christianity always preferring to evince themselves by the style of a cravat or the texture of a cloth.
Confidence had never been lacking in either of the two, but now the sense of power and success had increased it, and had also imposed a certain quietness and gravity which impressed people. Here, at any rate, were two men of affairs, men whose names were beginning to be known throughout the land, and Mr. Hamlyn's manner of preoccupation and thought was only natural after all in one who (as his son would remark to Protestant visitors) ”practically held the fortunes of the Church in his hands, and was destroying the Catholic wolves with the sword of Protestant Truth.”
The two men took off their overcoats and hung them up. Then Mr. Hamlyn, from mere force of old habit, pulled at his cuffs--in order to lay them aside during business hours. Finding that he could not withdraw them, for increasing position and emolument had seemed to necessitate the wearing of a white s.h.i.+rt, he sat down with a half sigh for the freedom and comfort of an earlier day and began to open the large pile of correspondence on the table before him.
”We'll take the cash first, Sam,” he said, pulling a small paper-knife from a drawer.
Sam opened a note-book in which the first rough draughts of matter relating to this most important subject were entered, preparatory to being copied out into one of the ledgers in the outer office.
Hamlyn began to slit up the letters with a practised hand. Those that contained the sinews of war he read with a running comment, others were placed in a basket for further consideration.
”'Well-wisher,' five s.h.i.+llings; 'Well-wisher,' 2 0 0, by cheque, Sam.
'Ethel and her sisters,' ten and six--small family that, I should think!
'Protestant,' five pounds--a note, Sam, take the number. It's curious that 'Protestant' always gives most. Yesterday seven 'Protestants'
totalled up to fourteen, twelve, six, while five 'Well-wishers' worked out at slightly under three s.h.i.+llings a head. What's this? Ah! cheque for a guinea and a letter on crested paper! Enter up the address and make a note to send half a dozen _b.l.o.o.d.y Marys_, one Miss Pritchett's _Escape_, and a few _Pay the Devils_. During the last week or two, the upper cla.s.ses have been rallying to the flag. They're the people. I'll send this woman the ten-guinea subscription form and ask her to be one of the vice-presidents. Listen here:
MARGRAVINE HOUSE, LEICESTER
Lady Johnson begs to enclose a cheque for one guinea to aid Mr.
Hamlyn in his splendid Crusade against the Ritualists. She would be glad to hear full details of the ”Luther League” and its objects.
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