Orange Grove (Wall)/Chapter 32
"Walk
Boldly and wisely in the light thou hast,
There is a hand above will lead thee on."
Walter was disappointed in the sympathy and encouragement he expected to meet with in the social and religious world. Friends stood aloof, and the church looked with suspicion upon any innovation calculated to raise excitement. Previous to this time "order reigned in Warsaw." Theological discussion was lulled, and if the same animosity existed between the sects, it was considered the wiser course to let each pursue its own path, trusting to the mercy of God for its conversion, rather than protract such useless controversies.
The excitement upon the slavery question which followed the revolutionary war had also subsided, and Southern markets plied their busy trade without hindrance from any source. Northern avarice and Southern cupidity joined hands in unholy wedlock, while the priest and Levite stood by to bless the banns.
The graven image was set up, the altar unto Molock was consummated, and it was only the struggling of the victims which began to disturb the conscience of a disreputable few who dared to confront the selfishness and prejudices of the community in defence of the inalienable right of every man to himself, the right of every woman to her chastity, and the sacredness of the parental relation.
To a young and enthusiastic person like Walter, whose inexperience in the world led him to suppose others would be just as ready as he to condemn a wrong or reject an error when it should be clearly proved, it was a source of the greatest perplexity why individuals standing high in the church, and making the loudest professions of philanthrophy should be so indifferent to this wholesale system of plunder and concubinage, to say nothing of the immortal interests involved, wherein according to their creed it was impossible for its victims to escape the miseries of the damned. Could they lead the lives which should make them heirs of salvation when bound by the laws of the land to submit to those very sins which are denounced in the Bible as deserving of hell-fire?
With that fearless moral independence which was such a conspicuous trait in his character he spoke his honest thoughts regardless of consequences, although it was often trying to his warm-hearted and generous nature to meet the coldness of former friends who, through his whole life, had showered him with kindness, and given him their warmest benedictions, justly meriting his deepest gratitude.
But the greatest trial he had to pass through, which was as unexpected as it was painful, was the opposition of his mother. He had never dreamed that she, whose sympathies overflowed towards the whole human family, and whose hand was ever ready to assist the unfortunate, and succor the distressed could shut her ears to the cry of the oppressed because shielded under the imposing panoply of law. It was this circumstance probably that modified the severity of his judgment and the sharpness of his criticisms which, in after years exonerated him from much of the harsh censure visited on his co-laborers in the same cause.
He saw that it was possible for people of the most honest intentions tenaciously to cling to error, and how easy it was for the conscience to be so misguided as to set the form above the substance when clothed in the imposing garb of religious ceremonials. There is no association so hard to break off as that which binds individuals together in a religious organization, and very justly so. Starting with principles founded on the highest emotions of the soul, however erroneous the intellect may be in reducing them to practice, there is a bond which has commanded the reverence of childhood, and strengthened with every succeeding year, both through storm and sunshine. The friends who have stood by us in the most solemn hours of life and proffered their words of sympathy and consolation, accompanied by deeds of kindness which should entitle them to our life-long gratitude, are not to be parted from without a struggle. Neither should any difference of opinion demand a separation from them; but at that time social standing was measured by allegiance to certain prescribed tenets of religious belief, and social proscription meted out accordingly. Few were the spirits bold enough and strong enough to breast this popular wave of opposition, and many of those who did, lacked the discretion a few years of experience in dealing with the prejudices of the times would have taught them that much more of the evil existing in the world is perpetuated by thoughtlessness, particularly among the masses, than by a deliberate purpose to commit a wrong. Although prejudices are not to be disarmed by soft words, nor truths bluntly spoken to be dependent for success on the silver tongues that utter them, there is a certain inward perception of human nature which sees in the masses a confused mixture of noble purposes and inconsistent vagaries, causing them to vacillate between the casual gleams of some rising star of millenial glory on the one side, and superstitious bigotry for some ancient relic of heathendom on the other, and gathers their unorganized impulses into a consciousness of the merits and demands of an idea which stretches beyond the present into a future that shall actualize our conceptions, thus reaching the intuitions when reason would reject it as a delusion.
Another tendency to neutralize the progress of a reform is that spirit of timidity in a certain class of persons who recognize its beneficent objects, which leads them to ignore it out of deference to the opinion that suggests the possibility of error because others have erred before them, and that the fallibility of human nature, out of charity for itself, should attempt nothing higher than it has been found able to attain, forgetful that it was under the inspiration of their own great thought that Galileo and Luther severally pressed forward to challenge the world to a criticism of its merits, and crystallized it into an act which has crowned their names with honor for the fidelity with which they gave expression to God's immortal purpose as it was revealed unto them, and for its benefit to the human race.
If charity is commended as the greatest of christian graces, it was never intended that it should be perverted into a cloak for unrighteousness, or that it should exert so tolerant a sway as to lose sight of the principle at stake. The mistaken views of the well-meaning, or the sensitiveness of near and dear friends afford no palliation of a great wrong which is upheld by the powerful and influential, and toward which they contribute their influence; being no less oppressive to its victims because unintentionally or blindly sanctioned.
Mrs. Claremont's brilliant hopes and anticipations in which she had indulged with all the fondness of maternal pride were thus to be dashed to the ground at the beginning of his career. She had never coveted honors or fame for the sake of reputation, but with that honest love of approbation which courts the applause of the wise and virtuous, she had looked forward to a future when Walter should be an ornament to his profession, and his moral integrity and manly independence win greater laurels still. All this she lived to see, but only with anointed vision. From worldly eyes was hidden the immortal wreath angel hands were weaving, and dusky forms were waiting to bear in grateful homage to the coronation.
The glitter of wealth and the praise of the world are of very little moment in comparison with the sublime inspiration of an idea, but it is not so easy to disregard the feelings of a beloved friend, particularly when the apathy of others gives rise to a feeling of isolation especially desirous of their sympathy, and Walter was so accustomed to his mother's encouraging smile that it seemed almost impious to expect a blessing upon any effort which she disapproved.
Months rolled on, increasing, rather than diminishing the trials of both mother and son, and casting a shadow over the whole family. No reproachful words were ever uttered between them. They manifested the same tenderness for each other, but the barrier of prescribed opinions chilled the gushing warmth of their souls.
From the first, Walter had dreaded the dissent from his views he felt sure to encounter with Ernest. Though oftimes differing in mere matters of opinion, there had never been any radical difference of principles between them, and Walter had generally deferred to him as being older and having more experience.
Ernest was more tenacious of the established order of things, and sought to introduce the new by preserving the old, instead of destroying the old to put the new in its place. He had unbounded reverence for man in whatever position he stood, whether high or low.
Walter reverenced man, but he reverenced principle more. Whatever the position of the man, if principles were disregarded, he should be called to account, because in them were embodied the rights of the individual which are apt to be lost sight of in a collective capacity which regards only the rights of the majority.
The views of Ernest accorded generally with Mrs. Claremont, but he was more practical in his belief of the supremacy of conscience over all matters of opinion, never doubting that fidelity to it would eventually lead a person into the right path, whatever errors he might for a time embrace. He believed it to be a vital article of the Protestant faith, and a right which has existed from the foundation of the world, subject to no censorship from any human tribunal, and therefore amenable to God alone. His varied experience in contact with all classes of society, of every shade of opinion, and all creeds of religious faith, had taught him to search farther than mere professions for the true life of the soul; and he learned to regard every human being, however degraded in person or erroneous in theory, as a spark of the divine intelligence, whose absolute sovereignty in all matters of thought none can question. He had too much faith in Walter's moral perceptions and sound judgment to harbor any fear that he would embrace any serious fallacy of reasoning or unwise method of action, and never did he stand so high in his estimation as now. Knowing the sacrifice of feeling it must have cost him to adhere to his present convictions of right, he manifested all the sympathy in his power, which was deeply touching to Walter. Being a man of few words, it was very little he said upon the subject, as they did not agree, but his manner spoke louder than words.
Rosalind's enthusiastic soul was just adapted to the reception of these radical ideas, but it was little she said. With that delicate instinct which swayed them all she made no allusion to her mother's opposition, not even to her husband. All felt that a "shadow was resting over their happiness and none liked to allude to it. Even little Lilly seemed to comprehend the changes in the family atmosphere, and prattled less than formerly,—perhaps because the repressed buoyancy of their spirits failed to draw her out. Nestled in her father's arms she would sometimes sit a whole hour in the evening perfectly quiet save when he caressed her and brought into her eyes a radiant gush of happiness, when she would look around the room from one to another to see if they shared it, which of course they did for her sake.
Doubts and fears arose to perplex the young man's soul. "Had I not better give it up," said he to himself, "is it not a filial duty I owe to my mother to regard her feelings in the matter? Is it not a responsibility which rests on the church alone?"
Leaving his meal untasted he arose from the tea-table and withdrew to his chamber. After pacing the floor for a few moments, he sat down by the window, mechanically turning the pages of a Bible that lay open before him on a table near. Chancing to glance at its contents his eyes rested on the passage, "Whoso loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me."
A new meaning suddenly emanated from those simple words, words that were as familiar to his ears as their own family names, and yet never arrested his attention before. They applied so pointedly to his own case that all doubts fled, and his future course was immediately decided on, in which he never wavered for another moment. By the sacrifices he was ready to make must his devotion be tested.
Rosalind entered his chamber that afternoon but he took no notice of her presence. He sat at the table with his head bowed on his hands, and seeing that he was beyond the reach of human sympathy she left a kiss on his brow and silently withdrew, When she heard his elastic step on the stair and saw the cheerful smile with which his face was lighted as he entered the parlor and met his mother's glance with more confiding assurance than he had done that day, she exchanged enquiring glances with her husband who was equally surprised at the change he as quickly observed.
Mrs. Claremont had experienced as restless and painful day as Walter, which was somewhat relieved by this momentary recurrence of his wonted buoyancy of spirits, but at the same time she felt an inexplicable sense of uneasiness and anxiety as he sat down beside her. She longed for the familiar interchange of congenial sentiments which had formerly drawn their spirits together as one, and something within her queried whether in reality they were so far apart now. The harshness with which a new idea ever grates on the settled habits of the mind was beginning to wear off as she became accustomed to an unvarnished statement of facts, so that unconsciously to herself the issue between them was really of a different character from what it was at first. She no longer doubted the imperative duty of every individual and church organization to set the seal of condemnation on the sin of slavery as a crime of the first magnitude, but instead of being satisfied with this he was going on to embrace heresies that would undermine the foundations of society. This she thought, although not rigid in her religious tenets; but age had somewhat moulded the fresh impulses of her youth into a mild form of conservatism, to which her social position of wealth and influence contributed not a little.
There is always in the wilder and uncultivated mass of society a class ready to be attracted to any novelty that comes up, whether of a moral, dramatic or tragic nature, which gives to the incipient stage of every reform an anomalous, disreputable character, repulsive to the staid habits and fixed principles of a large body of people who would otherwise flock to the same standard, and which excites the derision of a respectable and influential, but superficial order of literary genius. It generally requires a mind of more than ordinary patience of investigation, and of rare independence and strength of will to sift the question so thoroughly as to detect the wheat from the chaff when ready to meet it.
Mrs. Claremont had reached the point where she could recognize the principle that first actuated Walter, but she could not tolerate the "fanatical disorganizers" as they were termed, on the one side; and the low, motley crew on the other, with whom he was thus brought into close communion. She for got that Christ called his followers from the despised rabble of this world as well as from the devoted Sauls of the established church.
On retiring to rest that night she had a singular dream,—one that impressed her with a strange vividness of reality. She thought that she was a slave, and had been sold away from her mother. All the agony she had ever known, compressed into one moment, could not equal what she suffered for two hours when she lay sobbing convulsively on her mother's breast, with her master standing by, ready to grasp her at any moment. At last he bade her rise. She looked out at the window where the moon was shining brightly as if in mockery of her wo, and the trees were waving gracefully in the calm beauty of the evening's delightful solitude regardless of her suffering.
She was ready to curse the God who gave her life, and then looked complacently on the misery it brought her without interposing an avenging hand, when she felt the touch of her master's hand on her arm and bade him desist at his peril. The burning indignation with which she shrunk from his touch and defied him as if her soul were on fire, awoke her.
There she lay with no other sensation than that of awaking from peaceful slumber,—no startling emotion, no hurried breathing, the usual accompaniment of such nightmare dreams disturbed her, but she could not rid herself of the awful, frenzied desperation with which her Anglo-Saxon blood rose in revolt, contrasting it with the unrevengeful submission of the African to centuries of oppression, and the sublime fervor of his religious nature with that spirit of rebellion which prompted her to curse the Author of her being for permitting such a violation of his revealed attributes of love and righteousness. She now made the slave's case her own, which she had never done before. With the indifference so common to us all she passed the subject by as one pertaining to some far off race which imposed no personal responsibility, without seeking to ascertain the measure of the nation's guilt, or the connection of each individual therewith. That proud Anglo-Saxon blood was humbled when confronted with the deeper religious trust of the African who could still praise God in the midst of clanking chains and bleeding wounds.