The Sins of the Father: A Romance of the South

by Thomas Dixon

  CHAPTER I

  THE NEW LIFE PURPOSE

  Norton had been compelled to wait twenty years for the hour when he couldstrike the first decisive blow in the execution of his new life purpose.

  But the aim he had set was so high, so utterly unselfish, so visionary, soimpossible by the standards of modern materialism, he felt the thrill ofthe religious fanatic as he daily girded himself to his task.

  He was far from being a religious enthusiast, although he had grown areligion of his own, inherited in part, dreamed in part from the depth ofhis own heart. The first article of this faith was a firm belief in theever-brooding Divine Spirit and its guidance in the work of man if he butopened his mind to its illumination.

  He believed, as in his own existence, that God's Spirit had revealed thevision he saw in the hour of his agony, twenty years before when he hadwatched his boy's tiny arms encircle the neck of Cleo, the tawny younganimal who had wrecked his life, but won the heart of his child. He hadtried to desert his people of the South and awaked with a shock. His mindin prophetic gaze had leaped the years and seen the gradual wearing down ofevery barrier between the white and black races by the sheer force of dailycontact under the new conditions which Democracy had made inevitable.

  Even under the iron laws of slavery it was impossible for an inferior andsuperior race to live side by side for centuries as master and slavewithout the breaking down of some of these barriers. But the moment themagic principle of equality in a Democracy became the law of life they mustall melt or Democracy itself yield and die. He had squarely faced this bigquestion and given his life to its solution.

  When he returned to his old home and installed Cleo as his housekeeper andnurse she was the living incarnation before his eyes daily of the problemto be solved--the incarnation of its subtleties and its dangers. He studiedher with the cold intellectual passion of a scientist. Nor was there ever amoment's uncertainty or halting in the grim purpose that fired his soul.

  She had at first accepted his matter of fact treatment as the sign ofultimate surrender. And yet as the years passed she saw with increasingwonder and rage the gulf between them deepen and darken. She tried everyart her mind could conceive and her effective body symbolize in vain. Hiseyes looked at her, but never saw the woman. They only saw the thing hehated--the mongrel breed of a degraded nation.

  He had begun his work at the beginning. He had tried to do the things thatwere possible. The minds of the people were not yet ready to accept theidea of a complete separation of the races. He planned for the slow processof an epic movement. His paper, in season and out of season, presented thedaily life of the black and white races in such a way that the dullest mindmust be struck by the fact that their relations presented an insolubleproblem. Every road of escape led at last through a blind alley against ablank wall.

  In this policy he antagonized no one, but expressed always the doubts andfears that lurked in the minds of thoughtful men and women. His paper hadsteadily grown in circulation and in solid power. He meant to use thispower at the right moment. He had waited patiently and the hour at last hadstruck.

  The thunder of a torpedo under an American warship lying in Havana harborshook the Nation and changed the alignment of political parties.

  The war with Spain lasted but a few months, but it gave the South herchance. Her sons leaped to the front and proved their loyalty to the flag.The "Bloody Shirt" could never again be waved. The negro ceased to be award of the Nation and the Union of States our fathers dreamed was at lastan accomplished fact. There could never again be a "North" or a "South."

  Norton's first brilliant editorial reviewing the results of this war drewthe fire of his enemies from exactly the quarter he expected.

  A little college professor, who aspired to the leadership of Southernthought under Northern patronage, called at his office.

  The editor's lips curled with contempt as he read the engraved card:

  "Professor Alexander Magraw"

  The man had long been one of his pet aversions. He occupied a chair in oneof the state's leading colleges, and his effusions advocating peace at anyprice on the negro problem had grown so disgusting of late the _Eagle andPhoenix_ had refused to print them.

  Magraw was nothing daunted. He devoted his energies to writing a book infulsome eulogy of a notorious negro which had made him famous in the North.He wrote it to curry favor with the millionaires who were backing thisAfrican's work and succeeded in winning their boundless admiration. Theyhailed him the coming leader of "advanced thought." As a Southern white manthe little professor had boldly declared that this negro, who had neverdone anything except to demonstrate his skill as a beggar in raising amillion dollars from Northern sentimentalists, was the greatest human beingever born in America!

  Outraged public opinion in the South had demanded his expulsion from thecollege for this idiotic effusion, but he was so entrenched behind thepower of money he could not be disturbed. His loud protests for free speechfollowing his acquittal had greatly increased the number of his henchmen.

  Norton wondered at the meaning of his visit. It could only be a sinisterone. In view of his many contemptuous references to the man, he was amazedat his audacity in venturing to invade his office.

  He scowled a long while at the card and finally said to the boy:

  "Show him in."