Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe

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Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe Page 119

by Harriet Beecher Stowe


  But at this moment the conversation was interrupted by the riding up of four or five gentlemen on horseback, the headmost of whom was Clayton.

  “What’s this?” he exclaimed hurriedly “What, Mr. Gordon — father Dickson! What — what am I to understand by this?”

  “Who the devil cares what you understand? It’s no business of yours,” said Tom Gordon; “so stand out of my way!”

  “I shall make it some of my business,” said Clayton, turning round to one of his companions. “Mr. Brown, you are a magistrate?”

  Mr. Brown, a florid, puffy-looking old gentleman, now rode forward. “Bless my soul, but this is shocking! Mr. Gordon, don’t! how can you? My boys, you ought to consider!”

  Clayton, meanwhile, had thrown himself off his horse, and cut the cords which bound father Dickson to the tree. The sudden reaction of feeling overcame him. He fell fainting.

  “Are you not ashamed of yourselves?” said Clayton, indignantly glancing round. “Isn’t this pretty business for great, strong men like you, abusing ministers that you know won’t fight, and women and children that you know can’t!”

  “Do you mean to apply that language to me?” said Tom Gordon.

  “Yes, sir, I do mean just that!” said Clayton, looking at him, while he stretched his tall figure to its utmost height.

  “Sir, that remark demands satisfaction.”

  “You are welcome to all the satisfaction you can get,” said Clayton coolly.

  “You shall meet me,” said Tom Gordon, “where you shall answer for that remark!”

  “I am not a fighting man,” said Clayton; “but, if I were, I should never consent to meet any one but my equals. When a man stoops to do the work of a rowdy and a bully, he falls out of the sphere of gentlemen. As for you,” said Clayton, turning to the rest of the company, “there’s more apology for you. You have not been brought up to know better. Take my advice; disperse yourselves now, or I shall take means to have this outrage brought to justice.” There is often a magnetic force in the appearance, amid an excited mob, of a man of commanding presence, who seems perfectly calm and decided. The mob stood irresolute.

  “Come, Tom,” said Kite, pulling him by the sleeve, “we’ve given him enough, at any rate.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Mr. Brown. “Mr. Gordon, I advise you to go home. We must all keep the peace, you know. Come, boys, you’ve done enough for one night, I should hope! Go home now, and let the old man be; and there’s something to buy you a treat down at Skinflint’s. Come, do the handsome, now!”

  Tom Gordon sullenly rode away, with his two associates each side; but before he went, he said to Clayton,—”You shall hear of me again one of these days!”

  “As you please,” said Clayton.

  The party now set themselves about recovering and comforting the frightened family. The wife was carried in and laid down on the bed. Father Dickson was soon restored so as to be able to sit up, and, being generally known and respected by the company, received many expressions of sympathy and condolence. One of the men was an elder in the church which had desired his ministerial services. He thought this a good opportunity of enforcing some of his formerly expressed opinions.

  “Now, father Dickson,” he said, “this just shows you the truth of what I was telling you. This course of yours won’t do; you see it won’t, now. Now, if you’d agree not to say anything of these troublesome matters, and just confine yourself to the preaching of the gospel, you see you wouldn’t get into any more trouble; and, after all, it’s the gospel that’s the root of the matter. The gospel will gradually correct all these evils, if you don’t say anything about them. You see, the state of the community is peculiar. They won’t bear it. We feel the evils of slavery just as much as you do. Our souls are burdened under it,” he said, complacently wiping his face with his handkerchief. “But Providence doesn’t appear to open any door here for us to do anything. I think we ought to abide on the patient waiting, on the Lord, who, in his own good time, will bring light out of darkness, and order out of confusion.”

  This last phrase being a part of a stereotyped exhortation with which the good elder was wont to indulge his brethren in church prayer-meetings, he delivered it in the sleepy drawl which he reserved for such occasions.

  “Well,” said father Dickson, “I must say that I don’t see that the preaching of the gospel, in the way we have preached it hitherto, has done anything to rectify the evil. It’s a bad sign if our preaching doesn’t make a conflict. When the apostles came to a place, they said, ‘These men that turn the world upside down are come hither.’”

  “But,” said Mr. Brown, “you must consider our institutions are peculiar; our negroes are ignorant and inflammable, easily wrought upon, and the most frightful consequences may result. That’s the reason why there is so much sensation when any discussion is begun which relates to them. Now, I was in Nashville when that Dresser affair took place. He hadn’t said a word, — he hadn’t opened his mouth, even, — but he was known to be an abolitionist; and so they searched his trunks and papers, and there they found documents expressing abolition sentiments, sure enough. Well, everybody, ministers and elders, joined in that affair, and stood by to see him whipped. I thought, myself, they went too far. But there is just where it is. People are not reasonable, and they won’t be reasonable, in such cases. It’s too much to ask of them; and so everybody ought to be cautious. Now I wish, for my part, that ministers would confine themselves to their appropriate duties. I Christ’s kingdom is not of this world.’ And, then, you don’t know Tom Gordon. He is a terrible fellow! I never want to come in conflict with him. I thought I’d put the best face on it and persuade him away. I didn’t want to make Tom Gordon my enemy. And I think, Mr. Dickson, if you must preach these doctrines, I think it would be best for you to leave the State. Of course, we don’t want to restrict any man’s conscience; but when any kind of preaching excites brawl, and confusion, and inflames the public mind, it seems to be a duty to give it up.”

  “Yes,” said Mr. Cornet, the elder, “we ought to follow the things which make for peace, — such things whereby one may edify another.”

  “Don’t you see, gentlemen,” said Mr. Clayton, “that such a course is surrendering our liberty of free speech into the hands of a mob? If Tom Gordon may dictate what is to be said on one subject, he may on another; and the rod which has been held over our friend’s head to-night may be held over ours. Independent of the right or wrong of father Dickson’s principles, he ought to maintain his position, for the sake of maintaining the right of free opinion in the State.”

  “Why,” said Mr. Cornet, “the Scripture saith, ‘If they persecute you in this city, flee ye into another.’”

  “That was said,” said Clayton, “to a people that lived under despotism, and had no rights of liberty given them to maintain. But if we give way before mob law, we make ourselves slaves of the worst despotism on earth.”

  But Clayton spoke to men whose ears were stopped by the cotton of slothfulness and love of ease. They rose up, and said that it was time for them to be going.

  Clayton expressed his intention of remaining over the night, to afford encouragement and assistance to his friends in case of any further emergency.

  CHAPTER XLIX

  MORE VIOLENCE

  CLAYTON rose the next morning, and found his friends much better than he had expected after the agitation and abuse of the night before. They seemed composed and cheerful.

  “I am surprised,” he said, “to see that your wife is able to be up this morning.”

  “They that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength,” said father Dickson. “How often I have found it so! We have seen times when I and my wife have both been so ill that we scarcely thought we had strength to help ourselves; and a child has been taken ill, or some other emergency has occurred that called for immediate exertion, and we have been to the Lord and found strength. Our way has been hedged up many a time, — the sea before us and the Egyptians be
hind us; but the sea has always opened when we have stretched our hands to the Lord. I have never sought the Lord in vain. He has allowed great troubles to come upon us, but he always delivers us.”

  Clayton recalled the sneering, faithless, brilliant Frank Russel, and compared him, in his own mind, with the simple, honest man before him.

  “No,” he said to himself, “human nature is not a humbug, after all. There are some real men, — some who will not acquiesce in what is successful if it be wrong.”

  Clayton was in need of such living examples; for, in regard to religion, he was in that position which is occupied by too many young men of high moral sentiment in this country. What he had seen of the worldly policy and timeserving spirit of most of the organized bodies professing to represent the Christian faith and life had deepened the shadow of doubt and distrust which persons of strong individuality and discriminating minds are apt to feel in certain stages of their spiritual development. Great afflictions — those which tear up the roots of the soul — are often succeeded, in the course of the man’s history, by a period of skepticism. The fact is, such afflictions are disenchanting powers; they give to the soul an earnestness and a power of discrimination which no illusion can withstand. They teach us what we need, what we must have to rest upon; and in consequence thousands of little formalities, and empty shows, and dry religious conventionalities, are scattered by it like chaff. The soul rejects them, in her indignant anguish; and, finding so much that is insincere and untrue and unreliable, she has sometimes hours of doubting all things.

  Clayton saw again in the minister what he had seen in Nina, — a soul swayed by an attachment to an invisible person, whose power over it was the power of a personal attachment, and who swayed it, not by dogmas or commands merely, but by the force of a sympathetic emotion. Beholding, as in a glass, the divine image of his heavenly friend, insensibly to himself the minister was changing into the same image. The good and the beautiful to him was an embodied person, — even Jesus his Lord.

  “What may be your future course?” said Clayton with anxiety. “Will you discontinue your labors in this State?”

  “I may do so if I find positively that there is no gaining a hearing,” said father Dickson. “I think we owe it to our State not to give up the point without a trial. There are those who are willing to hear me, — willing to make a beginning with me. It is true they are poor and unfashionable; but still it is my duty not to desert them till I have tried, at least, whether the laws can’t protect me in the exercise of my duty. The hearts of all men are in the hands of the Lord. He turneth them as the rivers of water are turned. This evil is a great and a trying one. It is gradually lowering the standard of morals in our churches, till men know not what spirit they are of. I held it my duty not to yield to the violence of the tyrant, and bind myself to a promise to leave, till I had considered what the will of my Master would be.”

  “I should be sorry,” said Clayton, “to think that North Carolina couldn’t protect you. I am sure, when the particulars of this are known, there will be a general reprobation from all parts of the country. You might remove to some other part of the State not cursed by the residence of a man like Tom Gordon. I will confer with my uncle, your friend Dr. Cushing, and see if some more eligible situation cannot be found where you can prosecute your labors. He is at this very time visiting his wife’s father in E., and I will ride over and talk with him to-day. Meanwhile,” said Clayton as he rose to depart, “allow me to leave with you a little contribution to help the cause of religious freedom in which you are engaged.”

  And Clayton, as he shook hands with his friend and his wife, left an amount of money with them such as had not crossed their palms for many a day. Bidding them adieu, a ride of a few hours carried him to E., where he communicated to Dr. Cushing the incidents of the night before.

  “Why, it’s perfectly shocking, — abominable!” said Dr. Cushing. “Why, what are we coming to? My dear young friend, this shows the necessity of prayer. ‘When the enemy cometh in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord must lift up a standard against him.’”

  “My dear uncle,” said Clayton rather impatiently, “it seems to me the Lord has lifted up a standard in the person of this very man, and people are too cowardly to rally around it.”

  “Well, my dear nephew, it strikes me you are rather excited,” said Dr. Cushing good-naturedly.

  “Excited?” said Clayton. “I ought to be excited! You ought to be excited, too! Here’s a good man beginning what you think a necessary reform, and who does it in a way perfectly peaceable and lawful, who is cloven down under the hoof of a mob, and all yon can think of doing is to pray to the Lord to raise up a standard! What would you think if a man’s house were on fire, and he should sit praying the Lord that in his mysterious providence he would put it out?”

  “Oh, the cases are not parallel!” said Dr. Cushing.

  “I think they are,” said Clayton. “Our house is the State, and our house is on fire by mob law; and, instead of praying the Lord to put it out, you ought to go to work and put it out yourself. If all your ministers would make a stand against this, uncle, and do all you can to influence those to whom you are preaching, it wouldn’t be done again.”

  “I am sure I should be glad to do something. Poor father Dickson! such a good man as he is! But then, I think, Clayton, he was rather imprudent. It don’t do, this unadvised way of proceeding. We ought to watch against rashness, I think. We are too apt to be precipitate, and not await the leadings of Providence. Poor Dickson! I tried to caution him, the last time I wrote to him. To be sure, it’s no excuse for them; but, then, I’ll write to brother Barker on the subject, and we’ll see if we can’t get an article in the ‘Christian Witness.’ I don’t think it would be best to allude to these particular circumstances, or to mention any names; but there might be a general article on the importance of maintaining the right of free speech, and of course people can apply it for themselves.”

  “You remind me,” said Clayton, “of a man who proposed commencing an attack on a shark by throwing a sponge at him. But now, really, uncle, I am concerned for the safety of this good man. Isn’t there any church near you to which he can be called? I heard him at the camp-meeting, and I think he is an excellent preacher.”

  “There are a good many churches,” said Dr. Cushing, “which would be glad of him if it were not for the course he pursues on that subject; and I really can’t feel that he does right to throw away his influence so. He might be the means of converting souls if he would only be quiet about this.”

  “Be quiet about fashionable sins,” said Clayton, “in order to get a chance to convert souls! What sort of converts are those who are not willing to hear the truth on every subject? I should doubt conversions that can only be accomplished by silence on great practical immoralities.”

  “But,” said Dr. Cushing, “Christ and the apostles didn’t preach on the abuses of slavery, and they alluded to it as an existing institution.”

  “Nor did they preach on the gladiatorial shows,” said Clayton; “and Paul draws many illustrations from them. Will you take the principle that everything is to be let alone now about which the apostles didn’t preach directly?”

  “I don’t want to enter into that discussion now,” said Dr. Cushing. “I believe I’ll ride over and see brother Dickson. After all, he is a dear, good man, and I love him. I’d like to do something for him if I were not afraid it might be misunderstood.”

  Toward evening, however, Clayton, becoming uneasy at the lonely situation of his clerical friend, resolved to ride over and pass the night with him, for the sake of protecting him; and, arming himself with a brace of pistols, he proceeded on his ride. As the day had been warm, he put off his purpose rather late, and darkness overtook him before he had quite accomplished his journey. Riding deliberately through the woodland path in the vicinity of the swamp, he was startled by hearing the tramp of horses’ hoofs behind him. Three men, mounted on horseback, were coming up,
the headmost of whom, riding up quickly behind, struck him so heavy a blow with a gutta-percha cane as to fell him to the earth. In an instant, however, he was on his feet again, and had seized the bridle of his horse.

  “Who are you?” said he; for, by the dim light that remained of the twilight, he could perceive that they all wore masks.

  “We are men,” said one of them, whose voice Clayton did not recognize, “that know how to deal with fellows who insult gentlemen, and then refuse to give them honorable satisfaction.”

  “And,” said the second speaker, “we know how to deal with renegade abolitionists who are covertly undermining our institutions.”

  “And,” said Clayton coolly, “you understand how to be cowards; for none but cowards would come three to one, and strike a man from behind! Shame on you! Well, gentlemen, act your pleasure. Your first blow has disabled my right arm. If you wish my watch and my purse, you may help yourselves, as cut-throats generally do!”

  The stinging contempt which was expressed in these last words seemed to enrage the third man, who had not spoken. With a brutal oath, he raised his cane again and struck at him.

  “Strike a wounded man who cannot help himself, — do!” said Clayton. “Show yourself the coward you are! You are brave in attacking defenseless women and children, and ministers of the gospel!”

  This time the blow felled Clayton to the earth, and Tom Gordon, precipitating himself from the saddle, proved his eligibility for Congress by beating his defenseless acquaintance on the head, after the fashion of the chivalry of South Carolina. But at this moment a violent blow from an unseen hand struck his right arm, and it fell broken at his side. Mad with pain, he poured forth volumes of oaths, such as our readers have never heard, and the paper refuses to receive. And a deep voice said from the woods, “Woe to the bloody and deceitful man!”

 

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