 | CHAPTER III. The Down-easters, &c. &c.
&c. |  |
3. CHAPTER III.
Having tasted the bean, chawed it, and smelt of it
inside and out, the down-easter shook his head, and
spitting once or twice with the air of a man who has
heard of the biter bit, and feels rather perplexed on
the whole, take it by-and-large, was about returning
the bean to the box; and would have done so I am
sure, had I not turned away in a hurry, snapped the
lid with a decided emphasis, and begged him to keep
it to scent the snuff with which he had in the paper.
Wal, said he, not at all embarrassed by the proposition
or the look I favored him with—Wal! seein' 'ts
you, I dont care 'f I do—for between you' an' me an'
the post, I've taken a sort of a likin' to you—rather a
sorter than a sorter not—I vow if I haint! and that's
a slum-fac (a solemn fact I believe he meant—a favorite
phrase with him); for I guess you're a putty clever
sort of a feller notwithstandin'—rather equivocal
thought I, as he proceeded. What d'ye have to pay
for sech beans as them, hey? Where d'ye git 'em?
What do they cost? How do ye lay 'em in—by
weight or measure?
By tale, said I.
Oh—laying his finger along the side of his nose and
trying to look arch at the old quaker.
They are worth sixpence a piece, I added.
You don't say so! sixpence a piece! beats all
nater! By jingo, if I dont plant this, right away—do
ye think 'till mind a scratch or two like that? showing
with his cuff—did'nt go more 'n half way to the heart
—sixpence a piece! York money though?
No—Massachusetts—New England—Virginia currency.
Wal, if ever! May be you've got some to sell?—
rather guess ye have?
No.
Like to buy, may be? What'll ye give a thousand—
cash?
A thousand! why bless your heart, I—
Or truck out o' the store at cash prices—hullow!
We were interrupted by a great noise, and a cry of,
look out below there! and the next moment a couple
of long chests painted sky-blue, and flowered off in
great style with a border of brimstone-yellow, pitched
headlong from the very tip-top of the luggage; and
the end of one being stove, and the top flying off, the
deck was instantly littered with all sorts of down-east
travelling haberdashery—half a bushel of dried apples
on strings, a quantity of blue-and-white woollen yarn,
with sundry articles of clothing, which had seen their
best days long and long before, a heap of dough-nuts,
a new bridle, part of a sage-cheese, three or four
nests of sugar-boxes, a wooden clock-face and a pair
of spurs with enormous rowels, were among the articles
I remember.
There now! cried my companion, you've jess
done it! I told you so—did'nt I mister? (turning to
me for proof) did'nt I tell you so, when that are gentleman
was a cypherin' about there with the wooden
crow-bar, among all them air chists and boxes?
The gentleman he alluded to was the steward; a
handsome, well-behaved, well-dressed mulatto.
Never you mind tho'; I'll make him pay for it; or
Cap'n Trip shall make the damage good afore I leave
the vessel—I'm goin' right away to Washintin', and
its wuth five dollars a day to me, every day 't I
lose—
A representative perhaps?
A representatyve?—oh—no! somethin' more'n
that comes too, I ruther guess—
But you've paid your passage, I believe—
So I have, by jingo! What a fool I was to be
sure! but never you mind though—law is law—and
I'll have my money's worth out o' Cap'n Trip afore
I've done with him—you'll be an evidence for me,
wunt ye? Do as much for you any time—ye will
now, wunt ye?—say whether ye will or no; if ye
don't, I'll have ye summoned right away, and here's
your money all ready for ye, slapping his pockets—
for travelling fees an' tendance. Burn my buttons
if I don't fix 'em! Cap'n Trip! I say—Cap'n Trip!
And here, without paying the least attention to the
trumpery that lay exposed upon the deck to every
body's observation, off he started after the captain,
calling upon me by name and all the others in the
lump, to bear witness that he had abandoned for a
total loss, and vowing he would'nt go nigh the chist
nor touch to, till he'd come to a fair understanding
with Captain Trip.
Here a grave-looking little personage who stood in his
way, and whom I had seen prompting him a moment
before, took the liberty to follow the yankee a few steps,
when the latter turned upon him with a look of dismay,
and stood staring over his head at me, while the
other went on with a sort of law-lecture about general-average,
till the down-easter begun to grow rather shy of him,
and buttoned up his coat, and tucked away his watch-chain,
and crammed both hands into his pockets.
Perhaps he took him for a lawyer—but why conceal
his watch-chain? why screw up his mouth, and look
about him, as if he expected to lose a tooth or two by
sleight of hand?
No sooner had he left me, than I stole up to the
seat I had previously occupied, with a determination
to make sure of it for the remainder of the passage,
when, lo! I found another in possession; a little
dapper Bostonian, who kept a store as they call it,
where every shop is a store, every stick a pole, every
stone a rock, every stall a factory, and every goose a
swan, sold tape which he imported on his own account,
dabbled in literature, puffed poetry for the North-American-Review,
and the North-American-Review
for the newspapers; at his elbow was another, an
educated and travelled Yankee—cold, supercilious
and stiff—standing like the statue of man before the
loveliest of God's creatures, and talking like a book,
even to his washerwoman. I could not help observing
them both; for each was a fair specimen of what
are called the talented and gifted of their several
classes. Both avoided the brave old English word
guess, even where no other would serve their purpose—trying
thereby to conceal their lineage, and
substituting for it, all sorts of awkward and silly circumlocution,
like most of our countrymen who have
heard that to guess betrays the Yankee, or at least
the New-Englander: and so it does, where they make
use of it to express absolute certainty, that is indeed
characteristic of a New-Englander. He will say, when
guess this is putty cole weather; and if you ask him if
that house yonder belongs to him, he will answer—Wal,
I rather guess it dooze. But in forty-nine cases out of
fifty, the rudest Yankee will employ the word guess
after the manner of the best old English authors; while
the educated Yankee and the Southerner, will resort
to such absurd and bastard phraseology as the following—to
prove they are not Yankees, forsooth!—I
take it; I presume; I conjecture; I fancy; I imagine;
I believe; I anticipate; I contemplate; I reckon;
I calculate, &c. &c. betraying the former shibboleth
nevertheless, even where most careful about
hadn't ought and legis'-latoore, dooze and Fellydelphy,
by talking through the nose in jets, by whimpering
at the end of a long sentence, and by saying I
want you should go with me, or some other pre-eminent
Yankeeism, while counterfeiting the manners
and speech of the South, and affecting to pity his
New-England brethern for their strongly-marked and
hopeless barbarism of language and behavior—there!
that'll do for the present.
By and by, the former went so far as to signify
that he made his own poetry; and being sorely persuaded
by a mischievious girl who had joined the
group, and by the little creature who had so interested
me—zounds! what a mystery your innocent women
are! They may do just what they like, with absolute
impunity!—he was obliging enough to recite a copy
of verses, with a low sweet musical cadence, which
went to the heart of all the women that heard it.
Having somehow or other forgotten a word, he thought
proper to refer to a common-place book he had with
him, lettered ORIGINAL POETRY on both sides, in large
the piece, `written by himself,' and surely never
was title more appropriate, and somebody at my
elbow appeared to think so too, for he read it aloud
with an emphasis that proved to be irresistible—`Lines
beneath a nosegay'—
The little rogue took the idea, and laughed heartily
before she had time to turn away her face, or to stuff
a handkerchief into her mouth; and I—what shall I
say?—I who had already begun to think her eyes not
more than half so blue as they were when we first
came aboard and sat together looking into the deep
still mirror below; her stature to say the least of it,
rather diminutive; her mouth somewhat large, though
I do love a generous mouth, and her unspeakable taciturnity, the best proof she had given or could give
of her good sense—I who had begun to think thus of
her, became instantaneously converted to a contrary
belief, by the sudden burst of girlish hilarity, the ringing
joyousness, and what I should call the unexpectedness
of her laugh. Her eyes were bluer than ever—
her mouth perfect—her good sense altogether wonderful—and
her shape that of the winged women I
had courted in my youth. Ah—ha! said I to myself,
as she laughed all over—I am sure she did, “for it
went a-rippling to my finger-ends”—who is there with
courage to deny to that girl an exquisite perception of
truth and humour, and a strong sense of the ridiculous?
But of whose truth and humour?—I looked up to
see for myself; and there stood another Yankee as I
live! close at her elbow and looking over her shoulder,
with all the ease of an old acquaintance. And
appear to observe him. Oh Pharaoh! Pharaoh! thought
I, if they had only thought of trying thee with New-Englanders!
In the course of a short conversation that
followed, I found his name was Gage, and that he
and Middleton were old acquaintances; though I had
an idea from the angry flashing of Middleton's eyes,
that he did'nt half like the strange familiarity, the perfect
self-possession, and the steady quiet voice of
Gage. But as for me, I was delighted with him. He
was evidently a New-Englander of the right sort; a
full-blooded, old-fashioned Yankee; and from the
moment I heard him read over the title of the verses
from the book, `Lines beneath a nosegay,' I was determined
to know more of him. No change, nor
shadow of change was there in look or tone, voice or
feature; but a something so self-assured at the time,
so easy and so natural, that for your life, you could'nt
be angry, though he treated you from the first moment
you saw him, as if he had been acquainted with
you all your life long. He would say the severest
things!—but always with such a pleasant eye—no
bitterness—no affected archness—no assumed gravity
was there; nothing of that manner which betrays a
professional wit, who having raised a laugh, or let a
pun, draws out his pocket-handkerchief with a long
sober flourish and wipes his mouth, or turns on his
heel and walks away, as if he attached no sort of value
to his very best things, and might, if he would take
the trouble, do a thousand times better.
He could reason too, and that with extraordinary
power; and in the course of the day and evening we
were together, he impressed me with a very exalted
or two may give the reader a better idea of him, and
though it may appear to delay the story, it will serve
to abridge it in the long run, by substituting fact for
description—the man himself, heartily engaged in a
favorite cause, for a picture of him or many pictures
of him, wanting that essential feature of individuality
—speech.
Take an example—
Not long after this I found him occupied with the
venerable old quaker in a discussion that interested
me, and appeared to interest others, exceedingly. It
was about war.
But thee will agree with me friend Gage, said the
old man, that if two neighbors, having a dispute, if
thee will, about the boundary of their respective gardens,
or some privilege common to both, were to spend
their time shooting at one another through the fence,
or setting fire to each other's houses, or carrying off
each other's children, and holding them as prisoners
of war and hostages, only to be given up at the end
of the quarred—if they did this, instead of referring
the disputed question to a neighbor, they would only
be acting as nations do, when they go to war about a
patch of territory, hardly worth having at all, and
never worth the sacrifice of one human creature—
never!
And then, after a short pause and a benevolent
smile, as he sat smoothing down the soft silky hair of
his grand-daughter, whose bonnet had slipped off
without being perceived by herself.—Perhaps thee will
agree too, that for such neighbors to talk about honor,
or dignity, or justice, while they are trying to murder
were no law to appeal to, as a great folly and a great
wickedness?
Certainly, sir, said Gage. And I would go further,
much further. I would say that in perhaps ninety-nine
cases out of a hundred, if individuals were to act
as nations do in going to war, they would be hunted
to death by common consent, even among savages.
Grandfather, said the girl, in a low timid whisper—
and then she stopped and seeing Middleton's eyes
fixed upon her, with a look that instantly disappeared,
faltered out something relative to the New Zealanders,
adding that it went far to prove what friend
Gage had been saying.
Friend Gage, to be sure! and said without any
visible trepidation, with no drooping of the eye-lids,
nor quivering of the under-lip—and yet, I had reason
to believe that he was a perfect stranger to her. To
tell the truth, I did'nt half like her manner in this behalf,
as a lawyer would say; and as for Middleton, I
could perceive that he was no better pleased than my
self. But when she addressed him also as a friend—
friend Middleton, it appeared to alter the case. He
stared first, and then bowed, and then blushed, and
then looked another way.
Yes, continued Gage, and if they were to employ
other people, as the war-makers do, instead of risking
their own lives and property; or go to war with one
another merely for the sake of employing their supernumeraries,
grumblers, hangers-on, I am very sure that
even among the New Zealanders, a price would soon
be put upon their heads; for if you recollect m'am—
bowing reverentially to the fair creature before him—
Elizabeth, friend Gage—Elizabeth Hale, that's her
name, said her grandfather, before he had finished the
bow—
Elizabeth—Hale—whispered Middleton—I could
just hear the sound as he breathed it forth, just see
the motion of his lips; his pale face all of a glow,
and the tone so modulated, perhaps by accident, as to
change a question into an apostrophe—Elizabeth
Hale? into Elizabeth! Hail!
But, continued Gage, as soon as he had recovered
from the bow—I would not be understood to mean—
that is to say—there are cases I believe—there may
be cases, I should say—don't you think so Miss Hale?
—wandering, by Jupiter!—(getting more courage and
more breath as he proceeded, and showing that even
he could be disconcerted by a pair of fine child-like
eyes—to the astonishment of myself and the great
joy of Middleton)—there are cases where, in short,
a—a—a where even war would be justifiable, not for
the sacrifice, but to avoid the sacrifice of human life.
Thou shalt not kill, whispered the fair Elizabeth;
and then she turned away, as if unwilling to to be led
into a controversy, and half ashamed of herself and
sorry for having said so much; and I began to feel, as I
saw her studying the deep sea once more, that I should
forgive her soon, for not having appeared to enjoy one
of my very sensible observations in the first part of
our voyage.
But we are not to understand such things literally—
are we sir? continued Gage, addressing himself to the
grandfather, who appeared to triumph in her application
of scripture. If so, we are to kill nothing—
nothing—not even the beast of prey, the serpent, or
the mad dog.
Thou shalt do no murder, friend Gage—Nehemiah
Gage, I think thee said?—
Yes; Nehemiah—Elizabeth turned her face toward
Middleton, as much as to say—Thine's the prettier
name by far; and Middleton bit his under lip, as much
as to say—I'm sure he thought so—a very sensible
observation Miss Elizabeth! what if they had tried to
christen me Nehemiah?—they'd 'a had a pretty time
of it, don't you think so? And Gage continued—But
if killing a fellow-creature is the murder meant there,
what becomes of the right of self-defence?
I find nothing said about the right of self-defence
in the Book of Life, my young friend: we are commanded
to love our enemies, continued the grand-father,
in a tone that would have stopped that controversy
or any other, ashore.
And our neighbour as ourself, added somebody in
a low whisper at my elbow. It was Middleton talking
to himself; and I saw the color come and go over
the beautiful neck before me, and wander about in
flashes underneath the delicate gauze, like the soft
glow you see toward sunset in the month of September—when
the large white flowers of the wilderness
and the solitude are blowing in the mist and warmth
of our Indian-summer—the sweet-scented waterlilies,
if they would only blow in that month—when
every thing is unsteadied in the atmosphere. I was
completely bewildered. Perhaps the reader may be
so too?
And moreover, continued the grandfather, we are
commanded to do as we would be done by.
Worthy of all acceptation! cried Gage, looking at
the innocent mouth before him as if ready to follow
flashed fire! And I saw, or thought I saw, the shadow
of a projected under lip over the sarsnet-lining of her
little straw-bonnet, as that mouth turned away.
Fearing he had gone too far perhaps, Gage
continued in a different tone, as if with a view to
conciliate both.—It cannot be sir, that you and others
who are willing to live under a government of laws,
where the guilty are punished and the virtuous protected—
by law—it cannot be that you receive these
and other like passages literally?
And why not, I pray thee? How are we to understand
them otherwise—on what authority? The
language is clear—very clear—so clear as to need no
interpretation; so clear as to be incapable of interpretation.
Yet we do, and we must continue to understand
them otherwise. For if literally, my dear sir, we
are to take no heed for the morrow, and to leave the
support of a family to chance; if literally, we are
to do as we would be done by—if, when smitten upon
one cheek, we are literally to turn the other; and if
literally, when a man sueth us at law, and taketh
away our coat, we are to let him have our cloaks
also—if we are to receive all these commands literally,
what would become of us? Why have we any
laws upon earth, or any government? Why any
laws upon earth, or any government? Why any
fastening to our doors, or locks in our houses? Why
not spend all that we have in rewarding the robber
and the ravisher, the house-breaker and the midnight-murderer?
No sir!—one of these two things we
must do, whether christians or not—believers or not
—whether friends or presbyterians, methodists or
doctrines in a limited and qualified sense, even as all
Christians do, in practice, and all that make war in
any manner or contribute in any manner to the making
of war, under any provocation; Or—we must
give up the security of law, have done with all government,
from the highest to the lowest, and all the
appendages thereto—raze all our public-prisons, even
to our penitentiaries and bettering-houses, and lunatic-hospitals
to their very foundations; let loose all the
unhappy creatures that inhabit them for our security
—lay bare all our treasures—
Middleton began to breath fiercely here, and the
fair Elizabeth to look alarmed, sitting with her lips
apart and her eager eyes rivetted on Gage, who continued
with great energy.
Lay bare all our treasures—throw open all our doors
—and leave our daughters and our wives to the
spoiler!
Friend Gage!—Nehemiah Gage! said the grand-father,
with a look of amazement.
I am perfectly serious, added Gage.
I believe thee, and am sorry for it, answered the
grandfather; and when I looked at the fair Elizabeth,
she was pale as death, and her eyes were full of
strange sorrow.
But Gage persevered, and as for me, I was wicked
enough to enjoy the idea of his forfeiting the favor
of both.
Perfectly, my dear sir. I see no other alternative.
He who contends for the literal interpretation of
those passages, must do so upon the ground that all
human means of protection are prohibited; that self-defence,
unauthorised; that under all circumstances, and
everywhere, the Believer has nothing to do for himself;—for
what is law, any law, for the protection of
property, life or character, but the right of self-defence
delegated?
The old man shook his reverend locks, and poor
Elizabeth breathed only at long intervals; but when
she did breathe, her eyes were upon Gage—there is
no denying it—with an expression of deep interest.
I began to feel angry with her—.
In which case continued he, standing more upright
and warming with the subject—I hold it sir, to be no
more inconsistent for a christian, who contends for
the literal meaning of those passages, to go to war,
than to go to law.
Grandfather would agree with the there! said Elizabeth,
interrupting him with an eager smile, and a sigh
that I couldn't help referring to another.
Gage put forth his hand upon her arm—so unconsciously,
that she forgot to observe it; adding as he
did so, with an air that astonished me—it was that of
a high-bred handsome fellow, confident of his power
and sure of being well received by a woman, say
what he would, or do what he would; for this neither
Middleton nor I was prepared,—I am obliged to you,
said he; but I have not finished. And I hold sir,
that it would be no more inconsistent for the believer
to go to war, than for any body who adheres to the
literal interpretation of these passages, to fasten his
door o' nights, or to have a lock-and-key under his
roof.
But, my young friend, urged the grandfather—if
would be no need of bolts and bars, nor locks and
keys—nor even of laws. And it is not for thee and
me to do wrong because others do so; or to be inconsistent
because others are so.
There was a clencher! and I could perceive that it
was so intended, and so understood, by all parties.
Another might have been abashed or puzzled; but
our Yankee appeared to enjoy the idea of hearing a
new argument to answer. My dear sir, said he, we
do not understand each other. What I complain of
is that all are inconsistent; and they, more than all
others, who receiving these passages literally, go to
law, or lock up their money, or under any circumstances
apply to the law for protection.
But we never do go to law, said the grandfather.
Excuse me sir. You never go to law among yourselves.
Yet you go to law with others; and the
stricteth of your faith would not scruple to apply to a
magistrate for protection against any body that he
seriously feared, or any one who threatened to destroy
his property or injure his person.
Very true—and that is what thee calls inconsistency
hey?
Yes. And I go further. I say that if you were
consistent, instead of being what you are, inconsistent,
there would be a stop to the whole business
of life among you. Society would be overrun with
outlaws, robbers and ravishers. Is it a sure mode of
making others honest, for a man to fall asleep in the
highway or the market-place, with his gold lying
about him in heaps? or the best way of making others
peaceable, for a man to go with his hands tied behind
before hand that he is worth an experiment, by assuring
them before hand that they have nothing to fear.
Constituted as the world now is, he who forbears to
protect his own life, either by applying to the law, or
by making use of the bodily power he may be
endowed with, appears to me, sir, to be a very presumptuous
man. He crowds temptation in the way
of those who are least able to withstand it, and then,
having done this, he relies on a miracle for safety.
Nay more, he tempts Jehovah—why not cast himself
down headlong from the pinnacle of the temple, in his
presumptuous confidence?
The sweet girl grew very uneasy here; and I saw
her thoughts wandering visibly between the eloquent
northerner, and the silent southerner—who stood
aloof with his haughty lip contradicting his lighted
eyes; a gathered and concentrated power about the
mouth, dashed with a something scornful; a loftier
and a more glorious look above, as though he felt
himself carried away by the generous language, and
high bearing of the man before him—spite of a constitutional
antipathy and a something more, which
nobody understood better than the fair Elizabeth,
who instead of being offended by the familiar manner
of Gage, appeared to be pleased with it—or not to
observe it, where to a southerner it seemed worthy of
immediate and special reproof.
Talk of consistency sir! continued Gage, stepping
out from the circle and throwing a hurried glance
round the whole company, as if he had another and a
higher object in view, than the refutation of the old
grandfather, his pale cheek reddening with concealed
brightness for a man of the north. Talk of consistency
sir! If our Father above were consistent,
according to such notions of consistency, he would
love his bitterest enemies most, and he would treat
those best who behaved worst—and so would the
Savior of men!
And is it not so—said Gerard Middleton; do we
not find it so? stepping quietly forth, and urging what
he had to say with a voice that thrilled through and
through me—so earnest and so musical was it and so
eloquent with subdued emotion. What are all the
blessings we receive, all that we enjoy upon earth—
health, strength and intellectual power—opportunity
for doing good—equally distributed every where and
at all times, without regard to our unequal merits?
Nay sir—What is the parable of the prodigal son?
What the illustration that goes with it, showing that
there is more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner that
repenteth—I have a bad memory for language sir—
What are all these things but the recorded interpretation
of our Father's will? the everlasting order of
his works on earth?
Having said this, he fell back as if astonished at
himself and more than half sorry for having been so
betrayed—in such a place and in such company—and
his lips quivered, and I could see that his hand trembled
violently.
Gage looked up with a glow of surprize and joy
overspreading his intelligent face, and putting forth
his arm, he would have taken Middleton's hand, as it
lay palpitating over the top of a chair; but Middleton
withdrew it, and Gage instead of knocking him down
pleasantly, as if he understood every pulsation of the
youthful and imperious heart before him.
Magnificently urged! cried he. And yet, if all
were to understand these things as you do, would
there not be encouragement for the transgressor, and
discouragement for the obedient and faithful?—encouragement
for transgression, I should say?
My young friend—Gerard Middleton—I must know
more of thee, said the old man, seeing him about to
reply; and of thee also, Nehemiah Gage—for I am
satisfied (with a smile) I am satisfied that in thee, our
people have a dangerous adversary. I have heard of
thee before. Not contented with abandoning the
faith committed to thee by our fathers', I am afraid
(smiling benevolently upon him and upon Middleton,
as he proceeded) thou hast profited a little to our disadvantage
by thy long familiarity with our opinions?—
Gage colored. And Elizabeth—poor Elizabeth—
she looked as if the Arch-Apostate himself had appeared
to her bodily.
Nevertheless, continued the grandfather, I cannot
deny that thee has a very ingenious plausible way
with thee, Ne-he-miah. I am not convinced to be
sure; and between ourselves I dont much think thee
would wish me to be convinced—thee would rather
have such a controversy continue; would thee not,
Nehemiah?
Gage laughed, but assured him he was greatly
mistaken.
Well, well—I dare say so. Thee is not the first
that has convinced himself in failing to convince
passage I would refer thee to, and leave thee to
examine it for thyself, at thy own leisure. I allude
to that, where Simon Peter having a sword, drew it
and smote a servant of the High-Priest and cut off
his ear. Whereupon he was commanded to put up
his sword; for said he, who spake as never, never
man spake, all they that take the sword shall perish
by the sword.
One moment—if you please! cried Gage, seeing
the old man draw the hand of Elizabeth through his
arm, and pull her bonnet over her forehead as if about
to leave us. I am as unwilling as you to continue
the subject here (with a decided emphasis, and a
flutter that betrayed the hope he entertained); but as
I may never have another opportunity—
The devil take your impudence! thought I. Now
there is Middleton, who would give his little finger
for another opportunity as you call it; and here am
I, a personage not very easily disconcerted—yet
neither could have said as much, in that way, if our
lives had depended upon it.
Never continued he—much as I may desire it,—
And some how or other, even I could perceive as well
as the fair Elizabeth, whose blue eyes trembled in
their own lustre when he looked at her, a something
very mournful and sweet in his altered voice—touching
I would say, but for the fellow's breadth of
shoulders, high clear forehead, compressed mouth and
perfect self possession—Allow me to ask you whether
you receive that passage literally?
The old man hesitated.
In point of fact, I would ask you sir—if all who
take the sword—all sir, do perish by the sword?
By the sword of the spirit—perhaps, if not by
the sword of the flesh.
Ah!—then you give up the literal meaning! Now,
without referring to the passage where the Saviour
commands every man who hath not a sword to sell
his garment and buy one—I too have a bad memory
for language sir, glancing at Middleton—and without
relying upon the circumstance that he never reproaches
a centurion for following the trade of war;
I should argue from the very passage you have cited,
that one of these things must be true. Either the
Savior of Men did not teach the doctrine of nonresistance
to evil as you understand it; or—I pray
you to consider the alternative:—Or, he did not teach
it clearly and explicitly, and to all: in other words,
my dear sir, that his immediate followers and constant
companions did not so understand it as you understand
it: Or—and here again I beseech you to consider
the alternative—or, that they were guilty of the
most unpardonable outrage toward him, at the very
moment when all his teachings, and promptings and
sufferings were about to be consummated forever! one
of his followers an apostle, not only having a sword,
but wearing it into his very presence; and wearing
it too unrebuked of the others! up to the very
moment when he drew it before the face of his Lord-and-Master,
the Prince of Peace, and smote off the
ear of his enemy! To judge of this argument as I do
think it deserves, let me ask you sir, what would be
thought by your brethren, if a follower of George
Fox were to go armed into the midst of them on a
the same doctrines, and taught them as clearly as
George Fox did, Simon Peter offered a greater affront
by far to his teacher and to his brethren!
A dead silence followed—nobody moved nor spoke,
till the fair Elizabeth murmured out something, which
led her grandfather to observe, as he looked hurriedly
and anxiously, now at Gage and now at Middleton—
We are commanded to love one another.
Yes, echoed another and a nearer voice, trembling
with timidity and issuing in a low sweet murmur—
Yes!—We are commanded to love one another!
Would you believe it! her eyes—her dove-like
eyes—instead of wandering from Gage to Middleton
and from Middleton to me when she said this, were
fixed upon Middleton!
The fervid young Southerner was completely overpowered.
He stood before her, like a child, speechless
and motionless;—I have no doubt, with a dreadful
sinking of the heart, and a terrible ringing in the
ears. How I pitied him!—But I pitied Gage more.
Both are dead in love with her, said a stranger at my
elbow—and I'm ditto!
| CHAPTER III. The Down-easters, &c. &c.
&c. | |