Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 3, No. 18, April, 1859 by Various
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Various >> Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 3, No. 18, April, 1859
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THE CROOKED FOOTPATH.
Ah, here it is! the sliding rail
That marks the old remembered spot,--
The gap that struck our schoolboy trail,--
The crooked path across the lot.
It left the road by school and church,
A pencilled shadow, nothing more,
That parted from the silver birch
And ended at the farmhouse door.
No line or compass traced its plan;
With frequent bends to left or right,
In aimless, wayward curves it ran,
But always kept the door in sight.
The gabled porch, with woodbine green,--
The broken millstone at the sill,--
Though many a rood might stretch between,
The truant child could see them still.
No rocks across the pathway lie,--
No fallen trunk is o'er it thrown,--
And yet it winds, we know not why,
And turns as if for tree or stone.
Perhaps some lover trod the way
With shaking knees and leaping heart,--
And so it often runs astray
With sinuous sweep or sudden start.
Or one, perchance, with clouded brain
From some unholy banquet reeled,--
And since, our devious steps maintain
His track across the trodden field.
Nay, deem not thus,--no earth-born will
Could ever trace a faultless line;
Our truest steps are human still,--
To walk unswerving were divine!
Truants from love, we dream of wrath;--
Oh, rather let us trust the more!
Through all the wanderings of the path,
We still can see our Father's door!
THE MINISTER'S WOOING.
[Continued.]
CHAPTER X.
THE TEST OF THEOLOGY.
The Doctor went immediately to his study and put on his best coat and
his wig, and, surmounting them by his cocked hat, walked manfully out of
the house, with his gold-headed cane in his hand.
"There he goes!" said Mrs. Scudder, looking regretfully after him. "He
is such a good man! but he has not the least idea how to get along in
the world. He never thinks of anything but what is true; he hasn't a
particle of management about him."
"Seems to me," said Mary, "that is like an Apostle. You know, mother,
St. Paul says, 'In simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly
wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have had our conversation in the
world.'"
"To be sure,--that is just the Doctor," said Mrs. Scudder; "that's
as like him as if it had been written for him. But that kind of way,
somehow, don't seem to do in our times; it won't answer with Simeon
Brown,----I know the man. I know just as well, now, how it will all seem
to him, and what will be the upshot of this talk, if the Doctor goes
there! It won't do any good; if it would, I would be willing. I feel as
much desire to have this horrid trade in slaves stopped as anybody; your
father, I'm sure, said enough about it in his time; but then I know it's
no use trying. Just as if Simeon Brown, when he is making his hundreds
of thousands in it, is going to be persuaded to give it up! He won't,
--he'll only turn against the Doctor, and won't pay his part of the
salary, and will use his influence to get up a party against him, and
our church will be broken up and the Doctor driven away,--that's all
that will come of it; and all the good that he is doing now to these
poor negroes will be overthrown,--and they never did have so good a
friend. If he would stay here and work gradually, and get his System of
Theology printed,--and Simeon Brown would help at that,--and only drop
words in season here and there, till people are brought along with him,
why, by-and-by something might be done; but now, it's just the most
imprudent thing a man could undertake."
"But, mother, if it really is a sin to trade in slaves and hold them, I
don't see how he can help himself. I quite agree with him. I don't see
how he came to let it go so long as he has."
"Well," said Mrs. Scudder, "if worst comes to worst, and he will do it,
I, for one, shall stand by him to the last."
"And I, for another," said Mary.
"I would like him to talk with Cousin Zebedee about it," said Mrs.
Scudder. "When we are up there this afternoon, we will introduce the
conversation. He is a good, sound man, and the Doctor thinks much of
him, and perhaps he may shed some light upon this matter."
Meanwhile the Doctor was making the best of his way, in the strength of
his purpose to test the orthodoxy of Simeon Brown.
Honest old granite boulder that he was, no sooner did he perceive a
truth than he rolled after it with all the massive gravitation of his
being, inconsiderate as to what might lie in his way;--from which it is
to be inferred, that, with all his intellect and goodness, he would have
been a very clumsy and troublesome inmate of the modern American Church.
How many societies, boards, colleges, and other good institutions,
have reason to congratulate themselves that he has long been among the
saints!
With him logic was everything, and to perceive a truth and not act in
logical sequence from it a thing so incredible, that he had not yet
enlarged his capacity to take it in as a possibility. That a man should
refuse to hear truth, he could understand. In fact, he had good reason
to think the majority of his townsmen had no leisure to give to that
purpose. That men hearing truth should dispute it and argue stoutly
against it, he could also understand; but that a man could admit a truth
and not admit the plain practice resulting from it was to him a thing
incomprehensible. Therefore, spite of Mrs. Katy Scudder's discouraging
observations, our good Doctor walked stoutly and with a trusting heart.
At the moment when the Doctor, with a silent uplifting of his soul to
his invisible Sovereign, passed out of his study, on this errand, where
was the disciple whom he went to seek?
In a small, dirty room, down by the wharf, the windows veiled by cobwebs
and dingy with the accumulated dust of ages, he sat in a greasy,
leathern chair by a rickety office-table, on which was a great pewter
inkstand, an account-book, and divers papers tied with red tape.
Opposite to him was seated a square-built individual,--a man of about
forty, whose round head, shaggy eyebrows, small, keen eyes, broad chest,
and heavy muscles showed a preponderance of the animal and brutal over
the intellectual and spiritual. This was Mr. Scroggs, the agent of a
rice-plantation, who had come on, bringing an order for a new relay of
negroes to supply the deficit occasioned by fever, dysentery, and other
causes, in their last year's stock.
"The fact is," said Simeon, "this last ship-load wasn't as good a one as
usual; we lost more than a third of it, so we can't afford to put them a
penny lower."
"Ay," said the other,--"but then there are so many women!"
"Well," said Simeon, "women a'n't so strong, perhaps, to start
with,--but then they stan' it out, perhaps, in the long run, better.
They're more patient;--some of these men, the Mandingoes, particularly,
are pretty troublesome to manage. We lost a splendid fellow, coming
over, on this very voyage. Let 'em on deck for air, and this fellow
managed to get himself loose and fought like a dragon. He settled one
of our men with his fist, and another with a marlinespike that he
caught,--and, in fact, they had to shoot him down. You'll have his wife;
there's his son, too,--fine fellow, fifteen year old by his teeth."
"What! that lame one?"
"Oh, he a'n't lame!--it's nothing but the cramps from stowing. You know,
of course, they are more or less stiff. He's as sound as a nut."
"Don't much like to buy relations, on account of their hatching up
mischief together," said Mr. Scroggs.
"Oh, that's all humbug! You must keep 'em from coming together, anyway.
It's about as broad as 'tis long. There'll be wives and husbands and
children among 'em before long, start 'em as you will. And then this
woman will work better for having the boy; she's kinder set on him; she
jabbers lots of lingo to him, day and night."
"Too much, I doubt," said the overseer, with a shrug.
"Well, well--I'll tell you," said Simeon, rising. "I've got a few
errands up-town, and you just step over with Matlock and look over
the stock;--just set aside any that you want, and when I see 'em all
together, I'll tell you just what you shall have 'em for. I'll be back
in an hour or two."
And so saying, Simeon Brown called an underling from an adjoining room,
and, committing his customer to his care, took his way up-town, in a
serene frame of mind, like a man who comes from the calm performance of
duty.
Just as he came upon the street where was situated his own large and
somewhat pretentious mansion, the tall figure of the Doctor loomed in
sight, sailing majestically down upon him, making a signal to attract
his attention.
"Good morning, Doctor," said Simeon.
"Good morning, Mr. Brown," said the Doctor. "I was looking for you. I
did not quite finish the subject we were talking about at Mrs. Scudder's
table last night. I thought I should like to go on with it a little."
"With all my heart, Doctor," said Simeon, not a little flattered. "Turn
right in. Mrs. Brown will be about her house-business, and we will have
the keeping-room all to ourselves. Come right in."
The "keeping-room" of Mr. Simeon Brown's house was an intermediate
apartment between the ineffable glories of the front-parlor and that
court of the gentiles, the kitchen; for the presence of a large train
of negro servants made the latter apartment an altogether different
institution from the throne-room of Mrs. Katy Scudder.
This keeping-room was a low-studded apartment, finished with the heavy
oaken beams of the wall left full in sight, boarded over and painted.
Two windows looked out on the street, and another into a sort of
court-yard, where three black wenches, each with a broom, pretended to
be sweeping, but were, in fact, chattering and laughing, like so many
crows.
On one side of the room stood a heavy mahogany sideboard, covered with
decanters, labelled Gin, Brandy, Rum, etc.,--for Simeon was held to be
a provider of none but the best, in his housekeeping. Heavy mahogany
chairs, with crewel coverings, stood sentry about the room; and the
fireplace was flanked by two broad arm-chairs, covered with stamped
leather.
On ushering the Doctor into this apartment, Simeon courteously led him
to the sideboard.
"We mus'n't make our discussions too _dry_, Doctor," he said. "What will
you take?"
"Thank you, Sir," said the Doctor, with a wave of his hand,--"nothing
this morning."
And depositing his cocked hat in a chair, he settled himself into one of
the leathern easy-chairs, and, dropping his hands upon his knees, looked
fixedly before him, like a man who is studying how to enter upon an
inwardly absorbing subject.
"Well, Doctor," said Simeon, seating himself opposite, sipping
comfortably at a glass of rum-and-water, "our views appear to be making
a noise in the world. Everything is preparing for your volumes; and
when they appear, the battle of New Divinity, I think, may fairly be
considered as won."
Let us consider, that, though a woman may forget her first-born, yet a
man cannot forget his own system of theology,--because therein, if he be
a true man, is the very elixir and essence of all that is valuable and
hopeful to the universe; and considering this, let us appreciate the
settled purpose of our friend, whom even this tempting bait did not
swerve from the end which he had in view.
"Mr. Brown," he said, "all our theology is as a drop in the ocean of
God's majesty, to whose glory we must be ready to make any and every
sacrifice."
"Certainly," said Mr. Brown, not exactly comprehending the turn the
Doctor's thoughts were taking.
"And the glory of God consisteth in the happiness of all his rational
universe, each in his proportion, according to his separate amount of
being; so that, when we devote ourselves to God's glory, it is the same
as saying that we devote ourselves to the highest happiness of his
created universe."
"That's clear, Sir," said Simeon, rubbing his hands, and taking out his
watch to see the time.
The Doctor hitherto had spoken in a laborious manner, like a man who is
slowly lifting a heavy bucket of thought out of an internal well.
"I am glad to find your mind so clear on this all-important point, Mr.
Brown,--the more so as I feel that we must immediately proceed to apply
our principles, at whatever sacrifice of worldly goods; and I trust,
Sir, that you are one who at the call of your Master would not hesitate
even to lay down all your worldly possessions for the greater good of
the universe."
"I trust so, Sir," said Simeon, rather uneasily, and without the most
distant idea what could be coming next in the mind of his reverend
friend.
"Did it never occur to you, my friend," said the Doctor, "that the
enslaving of the African race is a clear violation of the great law
which commands us to love our neighbor as ourselves,--and a dishonor
upon the Christian religion, more particularly in us Americans, whom the
Lord hath so marvellously protected, in our recent struggle for our own
liberty?"
Simeon started at the first words of this address, much as if some one
had dashed a bucket of water on his head, and after that rose uneasily,
walking the room and playing with the seals of his watch.
"I--I never regarded it in this light," he said.
"Possibly not, my friend," said the Doctor,--"so much doth established
custom blind the minds of the best of men. But since I have given more
particular attention to the case of the poor negroes here in Newport,
the thought has more and more labored in my mind,--more especially as
our own struggles for liberty have turned my attention to the rights
which every human creature hath before God,--so that I find much in
my former blindness and the comparative dumbness I have heretofore
maintained on this subject wherewith to reproach myself; for, though I
have borne somewhat of a testimony, I have not given it that force which
so important a subject required. I am humbled before God for my neglect,
and resolved now, by His grace, to leave no stone unturned till this
iniquity be purged away from our Zion."
"Well, Doctor," said Simeon, "you are certainly touching on a very dark
and difficult subject, and one in which it is hard to find out the path
of duty. Perhaps it will be well to bear it in mind, and by looking at
it prayerfully some light may arise. There are such great obstacles in
the way, that I do not see at present what can be done; do you, Doctor?"
"I intend to preach on the subject next Sunday, and hereafter devote
my best energies in the most public way to this great work," said the
Doctor.
"You, Doctor?--and now, immediately? Why, it appears to me you cannot
do it. You are the most unfit man possible. Whosever duty it may be, it
does not seem to me to be yours. You already have more on your shoulders
than you can carry; you are hardly able to keep your ground now, with
all the odium of this new theology upon you. Such an effort would break
up your church,--destroy the chance you have to do good here,--prevent
the publication of your system."
"If it's nobody's system but mine, the world won't lose much, if it
never be published; but if it be God's system, nothing can hinder its
appearing. Besides, Mr. Brown, I ought not to be one man alone. I count
on your help. I hold it as a special providence, Mr. Brown, that in our
own church an opportunity will be given to testify to the reality of
disinterested benevolence. How glorious the opportunity for a man to
come out and testify by sacrificing his worldly living and business! If
you, Mr. Brown, will at once, at whatever sacrifice, quit all connection
with this detestable and diabolical slave-trade, you will exhibit a
spectacle over which angels will rejoice, and which will strengthen and
encourage me to preach and write and testify."
Mr. Simeon Brown's usual demeanor was that of the most leathery
imperturbability. In calm theological reasoning, he could demonstrate,
in the dryest tone, that, if the eternal torment of six bodies and
souls were absolutely the necessary means for preserving the eternal
blessedness of thirty-six, benevolence would require us to rejoice in
it, not in itself considered, but in view of greater good. And when he
spoke, not a nerve quivered; the great mysterious sorrow with which the
creation groaneth and travaileth, the sorrow from which angels veil
their faces, never had touched one vibrating chord either of body
or soul; and he laid down the obligations of man to unconditional
submission in a style which would have affected a person of delicate
sensibility much like being mentally sawn in sunder. Benevolence,
when Simeon Brown spoke of it, seemed the grimmest and unloveliest of
Gorgons; for his mind seemed to resemble those fountains which petrify
everything that falls into them. But the hardest-shelled animals have a
vital and sensitive part, though only so large as the point of a needle;
and the Doctor's innocent proposition to Simeon, to abandon his whole
worldly estate for his principles, touched this spot.
When benevolence required but the acquiescence in certain possible
things which might be supposed to happen to his soul, which, after all,
he was comfortably certain never would happen, or the acquiescence in
certain supposititious sacrifices for the good of that most intangible
of all abstractions, Being in general, it was a dry, calm subject. But
when it concerned the immediate giving-up of his slave-ships and a
transfer of business, attended with all that confusion and loss which he
foresaw at a glance, then he _felt_, and felt too much to see clearly.
His swarthy face flushed, his little blue eye kindled, he walked up to
the Doctor and began speaking in the short, energetic sentences of a man
thoroughly awake to what he is talking about.
"Doctor, you're too fast. You are not a practical man, Doctor. You are
good in your pulpit;--nobody better. Your theology is clear;--nobody can
argue better. But come to practical matters, why, business has its laws,
Doctor. Ministers are the most unfit men in the world to talk on such
subjects; it's departing from their sphere; they talk about what they
don't understand. Besides, you take too much for granted. I'm not sure
that this trade is an evil. I want to be convinced of it. I'm sure it's
a favor to these poor creatures to bring them to a Christian land. They
are a thousand times better off. Here they can hear the gospel and have
some chance of salvation."
"If we want to get the gospel to the Africans," said the Doctor,
"why not send whole ship-loads of missionaries to them, and carry
civilization and the arts and Christianity to Africa, instead of
stirring up wars, tempting them to ravage each other's territories, that
we may get the booty? Think of the numbers killed in the wars,--of all
that die on the passage! Is there any need of killing ninety-nine men to
give the hundredth one the gospel, when we could give the gospel to them
all? Ah, Mr. Brown, what if all the money spent in fitting out ships to
bring the poor negroes here, so prejudiced against Christianity that
they regard it with fear and aversion, had been spent in sending it to
them, Africa would have been covered with towns and villages, rejoicing
in civilization and Christianity!"
"Doctor, you are a dreamer," replied Simeon, "an unpractical man. Your
situation prevents your knowing anything of real life."
"Amen! the Lord be praised therefor!" said the Doctor, with a slowly
increasing flush mounting to his cheek, showing the burning brand of a
smouldering fire of indignation.
"Now let me just talk common-sense, Doctor,--which has its time and
place, just as much as theology;--and if you have the most theology, I
flatter myself I have the most common-sense; a business-man must have
it. Now just look at your situation,--how you stand. You've got a most
important work to do. In order to do it, you must keep your pulpit, you
must keep our church together. We are few and weak. We are a minority.
Now there's not an influential man in your society that don't either
hold slaves or engage in the trade; and if you open upon this subject as
you are going to do, you'll just divide and destroy the church. All men
are not like you;--men are men, and will be, till they are thoroughly
sanctified, which never happens in this life,--and there will be an
instant and most unfavorable agitation. Minds will be turned off from
the discussion of the great saving doctrines of the gospel to a side
issue. You will be turned out,--and you know, Doctor, you are not
appreciated as you ought to be, and it won't be easy for you to get a
new settlement; and then subscriptions will all drop off from your book,
and you won't be able to get that out; and all this good will be lost to
the world, just for want of common-sense."
"There is a kind of wisdom in what you say, Mr. Brown," replied the
Doctor, naively; "but I fear much that it is the wisdom spoken in James,
iii. 15, which 'descendeth not from above, but is earthly, sensual,
devilish.' You avoid the very point of the argument, which is, Is this a
sin against God? That it is, I am solemnly convinced; and shall I 'use
lightness? or the things that I purpose do I purpose according to the
flesh, that with me there should be yea, yea, and nay, nay?' No, Mr.
Brown, immediate repentance, unconditional submission, these are what I
must preach as long as God gives me a pulpit to stand in, whether men
will hear or whether they will forbear."
"Well, Doctor," said Simeon, shortly, "you can do as you like; but I
give you fair warning, that I, for one, shall stop my subscription, and
go to Dr. Stiles's church."
"Mr. Brown," said the Doctor, solemnly, rising, and drawing his tall
figure to its full height, while a vivid light gleamed from his blue
eye, "as to that, you can do as you like; but I think it my duty, as
your pastor, to warn you that I have perceived, in my conversation
with you this morning, such a want of true spiritual illumination and
discernment as leads me to believe that you are yet in the flesh,
blinded by that 'carnal mind' which 'is not subject to the law of God,
neither indeed can be.' I much fear you have no part nor lot in this
matter, and that you have need, seriously, to set yourself to search
into the foundations of your hope; for you may be like him of whom it is
written, (Isaiah, xliv. 20,) 'He feedeth on ashes: a deceived heart hath
turned him aside, that he cannot deliver his soul, nor say, Is there not
a lie in my right hand?'"
The Doctor delivered this address to his man of influence with the
calmness of an ambassador charged with a message from a sovereign,
for which he is no otherwise responsible than to speak it in the most
intelligible manner; and then, taking up his hat and cane, he bade him
good morning, leaving Simeon Brown in a tumult of excitement which no
previous theological discussion had ever raised in him.
CHAPTER XI
THE PRACTICAL TEST.
The hens cackled drowsily in the barnyard of the white Marvyn-house;
in the blue June-afternoon sky sported great sailing islands of cloud,
whose white, glistening heads looked in and out through the green
apertures of maple and blossoming apple-boughs; the shadows of the trees
had already turned eastward, when the one-horse wagon of Mrs. Katy
Scudder appeared at the door, where Mrs. Marvyn stood, with a pleased,
quiet welcome in her soft, brown eyes. Mrs. Scudder herself drove,
sitting on a seat in front,--while the Doctor, apparelled in the
most faultless style, with white wrist-ruffles, plaited shirt-bosom,
immaculate wig, and well-brushed coat, sat by Mary's side, serenely
unconscious how many feminine cares had gone to his getting-up. He
did not know of the privy consultations, the sewings, stitchings, and
starchings, the ironings, the brushings, the foldings and unfoldings and
timely arrangements, that gave such dignity and respectability to his
outer man, any more than the serene moon rising tranquilly behind a
purple mountain-top troubles her calm head with treatises on astronomy;
it is enough for her to shine,--she thinks not how or why.
There is a vast amount of latent gratitude to women lying undeveloped in
the hearts of men, which would come out plentifully, if they only knew
what they did for them. The Doctor was so used to being well dressed,
that he never asked why. That his wig always sat straight and even
around his ample forehead, not facetiously poked to one side, nor
assuming rakish airs, unsuited to clerical dignity, was entirely owing
to Mrs. Katy Scudder. That his best broadcloth coat was not illustrated
with shreds and patches, fluff and dust, and hanging in ungainly
folds, was owing to the same. That his long silk stockings never had a
treacherous stitch allowed to break out into a long running ladder was
due to her watchfulness; and that he wore spotless ruffles on his wrists
or at his bosom was her doing also. The Doctor little thought, while he,
in common with good ministers generally, gently traduced the Scriptural
Martha and insisted on the duty of heavenly abstractedness, how much of
his own leisure for spiritual contemplation was due to the Martha-like
talents of his hostess. But then, the good soul had it in him to be
grateful, and would have been unboundedly so, if he had known his
indebtedness,--as, we trust, most of our magnanimous masters would be.
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