Podcast 27 - B2/C1 The Man Who Could Work Miracles - Part 3

Mr Fotheringay demonstrates his powers

(I have highlighted in bold interesting phrases that it would be a good idea to note down and learn.)

(If you remember, Mr Fotheringay had shown the local vicar, Mr Maydig, how he could work miracles. He changed a jar of tobacco into a bowl of violets...)

Chapter starts at 1:20

The man who could work miracles part 3

"How did you do that?" Mr Maydig asked.

Mr Fotheringay pulled his moustache. "Just told it - and there you are. Is that a miracle, or is it black magic, or what is it? And what do you think's the matter with me? That's what I want to ask."

"It's a most extraordinary occurrence."

"And this day last week I knew no more that I could do things like that than you did. It came quite sudden. It's something odd about my will, I suppose, and that's as far as I can see."

"Is that… the only thing? Could you do other things besides that?"

"Lord, yes!" said Mr Fotheringay. "Just anything." He thought, and suddenly recalled a magic show he had seen. "Here!" he pointed, "change into a bowl of fish - no, not that - change into a glass bowl full of water with goldfish swimming in it. That's better! You see that, Mr Maydig?"

"It's astonishing. It's incredible. You are either a most extraordinary... But no…"

"I could change it into anything," said Mr Fotheringay. "Just anything. Here! Be a pigeon, will you?"

In another moment a blue pigeon was fluttering round the room and making Mr Maydig duck every time it came near him. "Stop there, will you?" said Mr Fotheringay; and the pigeon hung motionless in the air. "I could change it back to a bowl of flowers," he said, and after replacing the pigeon on the table, worked that miracle. "I expect you will want your pipe in a bit," he said, and restored the tobacco jar.

Mr Maydig had followed all these later changes in a sort of amazed silence. He stared at Mr Fotheringay and in a very careful manner picked up the tobacco jar, examined it, replaced it on the table. "Well!" was the only expression of his feelings.

"Now, after that it's easier to explain what I came about," said Mr Fotheringay; and proceeded to a lengthy and involved story of his strange experiences, beginning with the affair of the lamp in the Long Dragon. As he went on, the initial pride Mr Maydig's amazement had caused passed away; he became the very ordinary Mr Fotheringay again. Mr Maydig listened intently, the tobacco jar in his hand. Presently, while Mr Fotheringay was dealing with the miracle of the third egg, the minister interrupted with a waving, extended hand.

"It is possible," he said. "It is credible. The power to work miracles is a gift - a peculiar quality like genius or second sight; until now it has come very rarely and to exceptional people. But in this case... I have always wondered at the miracles of Mahomet, and at Yogi's miracles, and the miracles of Madame Blavatsky. But, of course - yes, it is simply a gift! Yes, yes. Go on. Go on!"

Mr Fotheringay proceeded to tell of his misadventure with Winch. "It's this what [that] troubled me most," proceeded Mr Fotheringay; "it's this I'm most in need of advice for; of course, he's at San Francisco - wherever San Francisco may be - but, of course, it's awkward for both of us, as you'll see, Mr Maydig. I don't see how he can understand what has happened, and I imagine he's scared and trying to get at me. I imagine he keeps on starting off to come here. I send him back, by a miracle, every few hours, when I think of it. And, of course, that's a thing he won't be able to understand, and it's bound to annoy him; and, of course, if he takes a ticket every time it will cost him a lot of money. I did the best I could for him, but, of course, it's difficult for him to put himself in my place. I thought afterwards that his clothes might have got scorched, you know - if Hades is all it's supposed to be - before I moved him. Of course I willed him a new suit of clothes on him directly I thought of it. But, you see, I'm already in a big mess…

Mr Maydig looked serious. "I see you are very confused. Yes, it's a difficult position. How you are to end it..." But Mr Maydig did not seem very concerned about Winch.

"However, we'll leave Winch for a little and discuss the larger question. I don't think this is a case of black magic or anything of the sort. I don't think there is any hint of criminality about it at all, Mr Fotheringay - none whatever, unless you are hiding stolen possessions. No, it's miracles - pure miracles - miracles, if I may say so, of the very highest class."

He began to pace the hearthrug and gesticulate, while Mr Fotheringay sat with his arm on the table and his head on his arm, looking worried. "I don't see how I'm to manage about Winch," he said.

"A gift of working miracles - apparently a very powerful gift," said Mr Maydig, "we’ll find a way about Winch - never fear. My dear sir, you are a most important man - a man of the most astonishing possibilities. The things you could do..."

"Yes, I've thought of a thing or two," said Mr Fotheringay. "But - some of the things came a bit mixed up. You saw that fish at first? Wrong sort of bowl and wrong sort of fish. And I thought I'd ask someone."

"You did the right thing," said Mr Maydig, "altogether the right thing. He stopped and looked at Mr Fotheringay. "It's practically an unlimited gift. Let us test your powers, for instance. If they really are... If they really are all they seem to be."

And so, incredible as it may seem, in the study of the little house behind the Congregational Church, on the evening of Sunday, November 10th, 1896, Mr Fotheringay, encouraged and inspired by Mr Maydig, began to work miracles.

The reader's attention is specially called to the date. He will object, probably has already objected, that certain points in this story are improbable, that if any things of the sort already described had indeed occurred, they would have been in all the newspapers at that time. The details immediately following he will find particularly hard to accept, because among other things they involve the conclusion that he or she, the reader in question, must have been killed in a violent and unprecedented manner more than a year ago.

(Ok, so the author says this because the story was published soon after it was written in the 1890s. So, the author is addressing the readers of this story of over 100 years ago.)

Now a miracle is nothing if not improbable, and, as a matter of fact, the reader was killed in a violent manner in 1896 in the subsequent course of this story, that will become perfectly clear and credible, as every right-minded and reasonable reader will admit. But this is not the place for the end of the story, being but little beyond the other side of the middle.

And at first, the miracles worked by Mr Fotheringay were timid little miracles - little things with the cups and household objects, and as feeble as they were, they were received with awe by his collaborator. He would have preferred to settle the Winch business straight away, but Mr Maydig would not let him.

But after they had worked a dozen of these domestic trivialities, their sense of power grew, their imagination began to show signs of stimulation, and their ambition grew. Their first larger enterprise was due to hunger and the negligence of Mrs Minchin, Mr Maydig's housekeeper. The meal to which the minister showed Mr Fotheringay was certainly badly-cooked and uninviting as refreshment for two industrious miracle-workers. Mr Maydig was complaining about his housekeeper's lack of culinary expertise, before it occurred to Mr Fotheringay that an opportunity lay before him. "Don't you think, Mr Maydig," he said, "if you don’t mind, I…?"

"My dear Mr Fotheringay! Of course! No - I didn't think."

Mr Fotheringay waved his hand. "What shall we have?" he said enthusiastically at Mr Maydig's order, and changed the dinner very thoroughly. "As for me," he said, seeing Mr Maydig's selection, "I am always particularly fond of a glass of beer and a nice cheese on toast, and I'll order that." And forthwith* beer and cheese on toast promptly appeared at his command. They sat a long time at their supper, talking like equals, as Mr Fotheringay presently perceived, with a glow of surprise and gratification, of all the miracles they would presently do.

*An old-fashioned word not used much these days.

Image from 1936 film The Man who could work Miracles.

Listen to episode 4 of The Man who could work Miracles...