University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.
AN EXPLANATION.

For several days our hero was thoughtful and
dejected, avoided all society as far as was compatible
with his situation, and above every thing
dreaded a private interview with Sandford. The
latter, who was now studying how to publish his

imaginary triumph so as to produce the most sport
in the College, saw the embarrassment of George,
but imputed it to the wrong cause. He had given
the abandoned Maria positive instructions to inform
her lover of his real situation, before she
suffered him to leave her arms. This he was
prompted to do by a regard for the honor of his
family, not doubting but the night of rapture he
had procured for his friend, would effectually
atone for the deception he had used. “George's
present shyness was therefore extremely natural
in a novice, one too who had ever been zealous in
condemning the vice into which he had now been
initiated; but it would speedily wear off as sinning
became more familiar. He was perhaps
ashamed that his weakness was known to his
friend. It would all help to increase the sport he
was preparing for the class, though his own agency
was to appear entirely accidental.”

Such was the reasoning of this youthful libertine,
to confirm which he visited George in his
room, and invited him to renew his visit; who
declined the proposition with an earnestness that
somewhat disconcerted the inviter.

“My mother and sisters will always be glad to
see you,” said Sandford, with a look and emphasis
which he thought would be understood, but which
the embarrassment of George prevented his observing.

“I have no reason to doubt it, from my former
reception.”

“I hope you were agreeably entertained,” said
Sandford, with an arch inquisitive look.

“Too much so,” answered George, and he
checked himself. “Nothing was lacking that
could contribute to my happiness. But I cannot
repeat the visit; because —”

“Come, come! my dear Willoughby,” interrupted
his insinuating seducer—“forgive your
Sandford an error (if you will call it such) which
arose from his friendship alone. Heaven is my
witness that I had nothing but your happiness in
view, and you confess that you was happy. Let
the end sanctify the means.”

“I impute no blame whatever to you,” replied
George; “I am confident that your motives were
generous, and I know that my reception was kind.
I repeat that I was happy—very happy. But
every leisure moment in future will be devoted
to my studies.”

George was now convinced that his friend had
either not noticed his particular attentions to
Maria, or else had different notions of propriety
from himself. This consideration afforded him
some relief, but at the same time gave him considerable
surprise. Had Sandford embraced
Amelia Willoughby on a first interview, kissed
her, fallen on a sofa with her in his arms, and
profaned her pure bosom with a licentious hand,
drunk or sober, George would have knocked him
down. But Sandford had left the room-and so
had the rest! How came they to leave the room?
Was not the conduct of Maria very different from
what he would have approved in his sister under
similar circumstances? Had she not made some
undue and improper advances? That could not
be true, or her worthy mother must have observed
it, and would most certainly have reproved her.
He had heard them spoken of as a very respectable
family. But why had not his rude and abrupt
departure drawn some inquiries from his friend?
All was doubt and uncertainty; the whole scene

was but imperfectly remembered, and George was
bewildered in a labyrinth of conjecture.

He was awakened from this reverie by Sandford's
renewing his request; which he did in language
that filled George with the most unfeigned
astonishment:

“What, my dear friend, can be your objections?
You have passed the Rubicon you so
much dreaded, and still exist in health and safety.
Or to use one of your bible figures, you have
tasted the forbidden fruit, and are yet alive to
confess its sweetness and the happiness it yielded.
Why not now eat your fill? If tasting incurs the
penalty, cating cannot increase it. Away then
with these shackles of priest-craft, and let us be
happy in the way which God intended.”

George had never recoiled from a rattle-snake,
in the wilds of Ohio, with such an instinctive abhorrence
as he now shrunk from Sandford, for he
could only understand him as inviting the dishonor
of his own sister, whose lips he thought
were meant by the forbidden fruit he had tasted.
He was for a moment struck dumb with amazement,
and then exclaimed—

“Couple not the name of Deity with so impious
a sentiment! O Sandford! how have I been deceived
in you! Surely, surely, such cannot
be your serious opinion. You jest with your
friend!”

“Indeed I do not,” replied Sandford, “these
are my real sentiments, and I am greatly deceived
if you do not shortly adopt them yourself.”

“Never! never!” exclaimed George with increasing
earnestness, “I must first be lost indeed.
Think what a scene of wickedness and misery
would be produced by their general adoption;

this fair world would become a theatre of the
wildest confusion and disorder. Where could
you imbibe such pernicious maxims?”

“Call them not pernicious,” said Sandford,
“when their end is delight. Is there not interwoven,
with our very existence, an aversion to
pain, and a love of pleasure? Why then should
we act in opposition to these propensities? Is
not their very existence a sufficient proof that we
should obey their dictates? A contrary opinion
is derogatory to that Being who implanted them in
our breasts, unless you consider him as a tyrant,
delighting in the pain of his creatures.”

“Your premises are false,” cried George,
and therefore all the arguments that can be raised
upon them must fall to the ground. Our passions
never came from God.”

“To what other source can they owe their existence?”
asked Sandford. “All things proceed
from God, and by him alone they are and they
were created. Pray explain yourself.”

“With the Holy Scriptures for my guide,” replied
George, “I will undertake it. Man was
originally created in the image and likeness of
his Maker, who blest him, and pronounced him
good. His mind was then a paradisical garden,
planted by Omnipotence himself, and abounding
with the most delectable fruits of love and wisdom,
continually refreshed by a never-ceasing
stream of life and mercy. The divine fountain
of good, whence all his happiness flowed, was
the supreme object of his love, and his neighbor
was regarded as his second self.

“But, being endowed with a free volition, he
possessed the power of transferring this love to
inferior objects, and, in process of time, the unhappy

transfer was gradually effected. From
adoring the fountain, he began to contemplate
the stream, till forgetting its source, he madly
imagined it originated in himself. Self-love succeeded,
and, like a wily serpent, seduced his
affections, corrupted his judgment, and insinuated
the forbidden idea of self-sufficiency. This was
that accursed fruit which he had been prohibited
from tasting. `Eat,' said the serpent, `and
imagine thyself a god.' Man ate, and knew his
Creator no more.

“The dreadful consequence was a total perversion
of all the good he had received. Conjugal
love degenerated into lust; self-preservation
was debased to self-love, and self-love reduced
to selfishness; innocent enjoyments became guilty
intemperance, prudence was perverted to suspicion,
and economy to covetousness; manly firmness
sunk to wilful obstinacy; generous emulation
descended to envy, and envy produced wrath,
malice, hatred, revenge, and murder. In short,
the love of good which had been implanted by
Heaven in his soul, was adulterated, perverted,
and transformed into the love of evil. Every
affection that had been given to promote his happiness,
was changed by himself into a lawless
passion, productive of the keenest misery. Thus
our passions were never bestowed by God, but
are the perversion of good affections, which were
given to make us happy. `Evil, be thou my
good,' said man, and evil became his life.

“Such was the fall of man; and the love of
evil, thus acquired, has descended from father to
son, in regular succession, while each generation
has increased its magnitude and malignity by inventions
of their own—except where its hereditary

course has been arrested by the work of regeneration.
To increase man's ability for the performance
of this work, to instruct him in its nature,
and to assist him in the process, was the object
of our Saviour's mission on earth.

“Away, then, with that contemptible sophistry
which would persuade us that our passions
were implanted in us by God, and that we must
consent to remain their passive vassals, instead
of striving to control and govern them.”

Sandford smiled rather contemptuously at the
gravity and earnestness with which George delivered
this harangue, and then replied: “You
were undoubtedly designed for the pulpit, Wilioughby,
and I hope to live to see you ordained.
But your sophistry beats mine all hollow. Pray
tell me what you mean by the love of evil descending
from father to son? I'll bet two to one that
there is not a clergyman in the state who ever
dreamt of so curious an idea, and I feel an irresistible
desire to hear it explained. Gratify me,
if you please.”

“I will endeavor to make myself understood,”
replied George, with his usual good nature. “In
the present degenerate state of our natures, we
are more prone to evil than to good; this is a
truth which no one can deny who believes the
Scriptures. These bad propensities can only be
conquered and destroyed by a continued struggle
against them, and some are wise enough to engage
in this mental warfare, with sufficient zeal
and sincerity to effect that desirable object; for,
whenever this contention with our internal enemies
is resolutely persisted in, Heaven always
crowns our humble efforts with complete success.
I mean, if we apply to Heaven for assistance—

but never without. This is what I call regeneration.

“If these propensities to evil are thus effectually
eradicated from the minds of a young connubial
pair, previous to their union, their happy
offspring will be much less susceptible of similar
temptations. For as the soul of every child is as
much the offspring of the parent's soul, as its body
is of the parent's body, all dispositions, inherent
in the soul, must descend from the parent to the
offspring. It is this hereditary evil, thus descending,
and continually accumulating, that has made
this world what it now is, a scene of wars, hatred,
cruelties, thefts, murders, and every other crime.

“Were not these hereditary propensities to
evil, now and then arrested in their descent, by
the reformation and regeneration of the few who
are wise enough to see the necessity of such a
change, the whole human race would, ere this,
have been destroyed by the monstrous accumulation.

“Thus, sir, have I, briefly as possible, endeavored
to comply with your request. The
sentiments I have exprest, were inculcated by the
best of parents, who has nothing but my welfare
in view, and who has never yet put a restraint
on a single inclination of my heart, that was compatible
with its future peace.”

Sandford here broke out into a broad laugh,
and George requested to be made acquainted with
the cause of his unreasonable mirth.

“That the son of such a parent, endowed with
such strict precepts of piety, and professing such
elevated sentiments of virtue, should pass a night
in a brothel! Ha! ha! ha!

A clear perception of the whole truth, now,
for the first time, flashed like lightning on the
mind of George. Had he obeyed the first impulse
that followed this conviction, the serpent
had been dashed from a third-story window into
the College yard; our hero's personal prowess
would have found no difficulty in the undertaking;
but he had been taught to examine every doubtful
impulse by the light of the understanding, and
one moment restored his calmness.

“Mr. Sandford,” said he with great solemnity,
“the only punishment that I shall condescend to
inflict on you for your diabolical treachery, is, that
of depriving you of an imaginary triumph. I did
not remain in the place to which your fiend-like
artifice had conducted me, two minutes after you
left the room, but escaped as innocent as I entered
it. Of this you may be convinced by enquiring.
So, sir, the triumph is mine, and is the effect of
those paternal precepts which you have the hardihood
to ridicule.”

Sandford was thunderstruck at this intelligence;
but assumed composure enough to ask in
a tone of low irony—

“And pray, parson Willoughby, what other
good precept has this dear parent taught you?”

“One more, which I shall immediately put in
practice,” answered George, with offended dignity,
“and that is, to hold no parley with the devil
after I have once discovered his cloven-foot.”

So saying, he opened the door of his room,
and added, in a tone quite new to his guest,
“Avaunt! thou imp of darkness! and never again
dare profane this room with thy hateful presence,
nor pollute my atmosphere with thy contaminated
breath. Start!”

“In my own time, sir!” answered Sandford,
as he assumed a menacing attitude, and in the
next moment he lay prostrate in the hall, with his
senses bewildered by the sudden transition.
George closed his door, while the fallen hero
thought it most prudent to slink to his own room,
and there plan some scheme of vengeance, in
the execution of which, his own personal safety
would not be jeopardized. But, before that
scheme could be brought to maturity, he was
obliged to withdraw from the University, to avoid
being publicly expelled, with two others, for a
riot in which they had been engaged.