University of Virginia Library

19. CHAPTER XIX.

It was settled, on consultation, that he should
abide the final event; and that, until then, nothing of
what had passed should be made known to his father,
to Delia, or to any of the family but Mrs. Trevor.
In her he had learned to seek an adviser, and
in her he always found one—sincere, sagacious, and
discreet. Mr. Trevor, as I have said, was not a
man from whose opinions his wife would probably
dissent, but he had not contented himself to command
her blind, unreasoning acquiescence. He had
trained her mind; he had furnished her with materials
for thought; and he had taught her to think.
She was in all his confidence, and he consulted with
her habitually on plans which involved the welfare
of his country. From her, therefore, the history of
Douglas's entanglement with the authorities at
Washington was not concealed. From the rest of
the family it was a profound secret; and, as Mr. Trevor's
health was now much restored, it did not interrupt

the enjoyments of the genial season which
invited them to seek amusement out of doors. By
means of this, the impatience of Douglas was diverted,
and he found it quite easy to accomplish his
philosophical determination to wait the result of the
affair in patience.

When, at length, a week had been allowed him to
fret his heart out, the deferred acceptance of his resignation
was received. This, too, was couched in
phrases of decorous and studied insult. But he had
learned to think that the dastard blow struck by one
who screens himself behind the authority of office, inflicts
no dishonor. The interval, which had been intended
to give his passions time to work themselves
into a tempest, had subdued them. Reason had taken
the ascendant, and, though his reflections had not been
much more favorable to the authority of his former
master, than the promptings of his resentment, they
were much less suited to his present purpose. He
was effectually weaned; divested of all former prepossessions,
and ready to yield to the dictates of
calm, unbiassed reason. He sought his uncle, and
with a quiet and cheerful smile, handed him the
letter.

As soon as Mr. Trevor read it, he exclaimed,
“Thank God! you are now a freeman.”

“I am truly thankful for it,” replied Douglas,
“though I feel as if I shall never lose the mark of
the collar which reminds me that I have been a

slave. But, until within a short time past, I have
never felt that I was.”

“When the bondage reaches to the mind,” said
Mr. Trevor, “it is not felt.”

“And was mine enslaved,” asked Douglas,
“when my thoughts were as free as air?”

“Their prison was airy,” replied the old gentleman,
“and roomy, and splendidly fitted up. But
look at the President's letters, and see the penalties
you might have incurred, had your freedom of thought
rambled into such opinions as many of your best
friends entertain.”

“Still,” replied Douglas, “the penalty would
have attached, not to the opinion but to the expression
of it.”

“And do you think your mind would work without
constraint, in deciding between opinions which it
might be unsafe to express, and those which would
be regarded as meritorious?”

“I can, at least, assure you that such a thought
as that never occurred to me.”

“But it occurred to your friends. It tied my
tongue, and, I suspect, your father's too, of late.
Now that I am free to speak, let me ask, wherein
would have been the criminality of expressing the
opinions imputed to you?”

“It would have been inconsistent with my duty
of allegiance.”

“Allegiance! To whom? You will not say
to King Martin the First? To what?”

“To the constitution of the United States. I
was bound by oath to support that.”

“And what if your views of the constitution had
shown you that the acts of the Government were
violations of the constitution, and that the men denounced
by Baker as traitors were its most steady
supporters. What duty would your oath have prescribed
in that case? Would you support the constitution
by taking part with those who trampled it
under foot, against those who upheld it as long as
there was hope?”

“I should have distrusted my own judgment.
Surely, you would not have me set up that against
the opinions of the legislative, executive, and judiciary,
all concurrently expressed according to the
forms of the constitution.”

“What then must I do?” asked Mr. Trevor.
“Be the opinions of all these men what they may, the
constitution, after all, is what it is. As such, I am
bound to support it. Now, when I have schooled myself
into all possible respect for their judgment, and
all possible diffidence of my own, if I still think that
they are clearly in error, is it by conforming to their
opinion or my own that I shall satisfy my own conscience,
to which my oath binds me, that I do
actually support the constitution?”

“I suppose,” said Douglas, “you must, in that
case, conform to your own convictions.”

“Then I may, at last, trust my own judgment
when I have no longer any doubt.”

“You must, of necessity.”

“And you,” said Mr. Trevor, “who were not
free to do so—who, in the matter of an oath, were
to be guided, not by your own conscience, but by
the consciences of other men—was your mind
free?”

Douglas colored high, and, after a long pause,
said: “I see that I have been swinging in a gilded
cage, and mistook its motions for those of my own
will. I see it, and again respond cordially to your
ejaculation: Thank God! I am free.”

“I rejoice at it, especially,” said Mr. Trevor,
“because now all reserve is at an end between us.
Heretofore, in all my intercourse with you, my
tongue has been tied on the subject of which I think
most, and on which I feel most deeply. I find it
hard to speak to a son of Virginia without speaking
of her wrongs, and the means of redressing them. It
is harder still, when he to whom I speak is my own
son too.”

“I have long ago learned from my father,” said
Douglas, “that the whole South had been much oppressed.
I know, too, that he attributes the oppression
to the exercise of powers not granted by the
constitution. But, with every disposition to resist

this oppression, he taught me to bear it sooner than
incur the evils of disunion.”

“What are they?”

“Weakness, dissention, and the danger to liberty
from the standing armies of distinct and rival powers.”

“Hence you have never permitted yourself to look
narrowly into the question.”

“I never have. I have no doubt of our wrongs;
but I have never suffered myself to weigh them against
disunion. That I have been taught to regard as the
maximum of evil.”

“But disunion has now come. The question now
is, whether you shall continue to bear these wrongs,
or seek the remedy offered by an invitation to join
the Southern Confederacy. The evils of which you
speak would certainly not be increased by such a
step. We might weaken the North, but not ourselves.
As to standing armies, here we have one
among us. The motive which that danger presented
is now reversed in its operation. While we
remain as we are, the standing army is fastened upon
us. By the proposed change, we shake it off. Then,
as to dissention, if there is no cause of war now,
there would be none then. Indeed the only cause
would be removed, and it would be seen that both
parties had every inducement to peace. Even in the
present unnatural condition, you see that the separation

having once taken place, there remains nothing
to quarrel about.”

“What, then,” said Douglas, “is the meaning
of all this military array that I see? Are no hostile
movements apprehended from the Southern Confederacy?”

“Not at all. They have no such thought. The
talk of such things is nothing but a pretext for
muzzling Virginia.”

“How do you mean?” asked Douglas.

“You will know if you attend the election in this
county to-morrow. You will then see that a detachment
of troops has been ordered here on the eve of
the election. The ostensible use of it, is to aid in
the prevention of smuggling, or, in other words, in
the enforcement of the odious tariff, and a participation
in the advantages our southern neighbors enjoy
since they have shaken it off. But you will see this
force employed to brow-beat and intimidate the people,
and to drive from the polls such as cannot be brought
to vote in conformity to the will of our rulers. Go
back to Richmond next winter, and you will see the
force stationed there increased to what will be called
an army of observation. In the midst of this, the
Legislature will hold its mock deliberations; and you
will find advanced posts so arranged as to bridle the
disaffected counties, and prevent the people from
marching to the relief of their representatives. By
one or the other, or both of these operations; Virginia

will be prevented from expressing her will in the only
legitimate way, and her sons, who take up arms on
her behalf, will be stigmatised as traitors, not only to
the United States, but to her.”