The regular monthly meeting of the vestry was to be held on the Friday evening following the Sunday on which the objectionable sermon had been preached, and it was agreed, among those who protested, that this would be an opportune time to voice their protest, and express their determination, and reach, if possible, some kind of an understanding as to the future. Nor was the Reverend Mr. Farrar so dull of comprehension that he failed to anticipate that there might be expressions of opinion at the meeting adverse to his views and policy. Indeed, he set out deliberately to invite such expressions of opinion, if there were any members of the vestry who disagreed with him. He felt that there must be no longer any evasion or paltering on either side; that, if necessary, armed neutrality must give way to active warfare; that a crisis had been reached beyond which Christ Church would advance in accordance with her God-given privilege, or else recede, disintegrate, and be lost. The stage was surely set for dramatic developments.
The meeting was to be held, as usual, in the rector’s study, after the mid-week evening service. Judge Bosworth, the senior warden, was the first to arrive. He was followed closely by Westgate. While they were awaiting the coming of the others there was some casual conversation on different topics, but it was marked by an air of restraint of which all three men were aware. Then, in rapid succession, the remaining members of the vestry came in—all but old Mr. Ray, who was ill and unable to leave his house.
They knelt with due devotion while brief prayers were read, and then the usual order of business was taken up. The treasurer’s report was made and commented on, and other matters of more or less importance to the parish were considered and disposed of.
When the order of “new business” was reached, the rector said:
“There is a matter, gentlemen, on which I desire to have your judgment, and, if possible, your favorable action. You have doubtless observed the increased attendance on our services by people of the laboring class. I am convinced that it is among these people, during the next few years, that our work must largely be done. We must break down the indifference, the prejudice, the open antagonism which so many of them manifest, not wholly without reason, toward the Church. If we extend to them a fitting welcome, and if we properly provide for them, I have no doubt they will continue to come to us in increasingly large numbers, to their own spiritual benefit, and to the great strengthening of the Church. It is plain that we cannot accommodate them under our present system by which we rent pews for the exclusive use of our several families. It is my recommendation, therefore, and my hearty desire, that the renting system shall be abolished, and that all pews shall be open freely to all worshipers. It is for you to act on the recommendation.”
For a moment no one spoke. The proposition was too startling, too revolutionary, to be replied to at once. The parishioners of Christ Church had occupied exclusive pews for two generations and more. They had come to consider them as much their private property as were their own dining-rooms, or their front porches. How could this vestry shatter, in a night, the traditions of years? It was a foregone conclusion that the rector’s recommendation would meet with disapproval—and it did. Mr. Hughes, capitalist, was the first to express his dissent.
“I, for one,” he said, “am opposed to it. It would deprive us of a fixed income. It would revolutionize the policy and the customs of the church in this respect. I do not believe the bulk of our pewholders would ever consent to it. I, myself, would be entirely unwilling to relinquish my right to the exclusive use of a pew. I am ready to pay for one, and I do pay for it, and when I pay for it I propose to reserve the right to say who shall sit in it.”
“I appreciate your point of view, Mr. Hughes,” replied the rector; “but I feel that we must look at the matter from a broader standpoint. Do we want these people to worship with us or do we not? If we do, it is plain that we must provide for them. They, themselves, feel that it is something of an intrusion for them to occupy pews set apart for the exclusive use of others. Many of them cannot afford even to pay rentals for sittings; and, if they could, we have not the vacant sittings for them. What shall we do with them? Shall we give them to understand that they are unwelcome, or shall we admit them to the privileges of Christ Church on an equal footing with ourselves? The problem is yours, gentlemen.”
“We might,” suggested Rapalje, engaged in real estate and insurance, “provide a certain section of the church in the rear to accommodate them, moving our own people farther to the front, and doubling up in the occupancy of pews, if necessary.”