University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.

Mrs. Vanross had passed to her rest; Reverend Thomas Gordon with his affectionate wife and interesting family had long been living in Brooklyn; Mr. Howell had prospered fairly in Macon and was now enjoying leisure. No pen can paint the loss which Hortense experienced in the death of the mother who had been her exemplar, companion and confidant; her life was henceforth to be a rapid course along the declivity leading toward a darker vale. Leonard maintained for some time a merely negative position upon the subject of Christianity, regarding its doctrines as devoid of importance and its rules of conduct as of no authority. But from the

date of the christening of the children, on which occasion a temporary compromise had been made, a spirit of hostility had manifested itself in his conduct; and he had entered upon a course which ultimately banished the sunshine of peace from his home.

To understand the aspect which the positive character of Leonard assumed as leisure came to him, it will be necessary to recall our earlier acquaintance with him, and take a second look upon him as a young man. We must not forget the emotion, the enthusiasm, the ardor, that we saw in him as a youth and a lover. He had a buoyant and hopeful nature, full of the richelan which belongs to good blood fostered by plenty of outdoor exercise. When he entered upon his business life he simply put this part of his nature under bonds, as it were, and developed the practical,

and withal, selfish principles of his constitution somewhat to excess. It was this unequal and very rapid development of the underworld of his being that corrupted the stream of his love for Hortense even before their marriage, and that subsequently robbed their home of the pure fountain of happiness which it should have possessed.

Now that the struggle for wealth, or at least for competency, was over, and his business so arranged that his wants were amply supplied, and he began to free his hands and his thoughts from the hitherto tireless pursuit of fortune, his original nature once more asserted itself, and all his sentimentalism returned. His soul now reached out to grasp something positive. The question that Hortense had put to him years ago had returned and demanded an answer. Denying the religion of his wife,

he had now come to the necessity of substituting some form of belief of his own. It was incumbent upon him to give a positive answer to himself and to the world; he could no longer live on negatives.

When this emotional and sentimental nature put forth its second manifestation at this matured period of his life Leonard was a different man from what he had been in his early days. He had seen much and experienced much; and his mind had become unconsciously warped. A frank and generous nature under the domination of the single desire to gain in business, had become sordid and selfish, and when these best elements, fettered by ironclad habits of thought, attempted to reassert themselves the success was but meager. Chafing within their limits like caged eagles they grew to be shockingly sensual. A brilliant intellect became at first the seducer, and

later the slave of a debased and corrupt heart.

Let us return to the dwelling of Mr. Howell in Macon, Georgia. It was the early part of October, 18—, the most delightful month of the whole year in that vicinity. The day was done; and Mr. Howell was seated with his wife and one visitor in their spacious parlor. The planting season was also ended, and a good crop of cotton was maturing in the fields, bringing to Mr. Howell's coffers its annual returns of substantial profits. With condition easy and good health, it was an apt time for the very brightest angel of the inner courts of his nature to appear.

The visitor also was the right person to invite forth his best and purest thoughts; for the gentleman who joined their circle was the Reverend Dr. Danforth, the pastor of his wife's church; a man of most agree-

able manners, and unlike many other ministers neither pugnacious nor affected; neither fond of controversy for its own sake nor for the bootless victory it might afford. He was devoted to his one work, was companionable and natural. Mr. Howell had grown to respect him not only upon Hortense's account, but because of what he had discovered in the man. We may say that Mr. Howell and Mr. Danforth were real friends. Hence in this circle, on this quiet and peaceful evening, in the presence of his wife and his friend, the minister, Mr. Howell could hardly avoid the subject upon which the two others would naturally converse in some form. Without any premeditation he found himself drawn into a religious discussion and was soon defining and defending his position.

"Some people," said he, "even think me

an infidel, and call me one. But they are much mistaken. I was out viewing the heavens only a short while ago, and I could not help saying: What a beautiful night! And I reflected upon the grandeur and mysteriousness of the works which prove the existence of God. But the stronger the proofs I receive of his greatness, the more strongly do I feel how vain we are to dare to believe that he has a personal superintendence over our affairs. And yet, if I could believe that I was even of some use to the Creator, it would be a great comfort to me."

Mr. Danforth knew how to answer this readily, so far as the logic of his friend's position was concerned; but he cared much more for his friend's feelings than for any temporary success to be won in dispute. He wished to win Mr. Howell to the side of truth, and in his reply was

cautious lest any word he should utter should drive him further away. He believed the expressions to which he had listened had been uttered in all sincerity. So even Leonard's wife believed at the time; but it is doubtful if Leonard was more than half sincere — in his last remark especially, and if he desired, even at that time, to have anything whatever to do with a God whose character was against sin and uncleanness.

After a moment's reflection Mr. Danforth replied:

"There is much in nature, viewed either by night or by day, to tell us of God; I don't know but the beautiful night scenes are more impressive. One of David's sweetest Psalms describes a night scene, and its effects upon him, in words which exactly comport meaning with what you have just said: 'When I consider thy

heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and stars which thou hast ordained, what is man that thou art mindful of him? And the son of man that thou visitest him?'"

"Yes," replied Mr. Howell, "that is the way I look at it. To my mind it is exalting man beyond his true sphere, and belittling God to represent him as taking interest in all our petty affairs. He has placed all things under wise, just and good laws, and leaves them to work out the destinies."

"I think so, too; I think the laws under which all things are placed are the best possible, if you please; and that their tendency os to produce the greatest good to the greatest number. These laws do credit to the wisdom, justice and love of the lawgiver"

Mrs. Howell, who had thus far been a listener only, and was not a little puzzled

at the drift the argument seemed to be taking, now spoke up with considerable earnestness:

"Indeed, it often seems to me, that so many things happen for which I can see no reason, that I am sometimes inclined to think that the laws forget their duty. I find more comfort, I believe, in thinking of God as our father, who is ready to come to our aid despite the laws, than I do in the cold aspect of law. I do not care to see God only as a lawgiver."

"Well, we are permitted to look upon the Divine Being both as a wise lawgiver and as a tender and loving father," replied Mr. Danforth. "He is a God of love, indeed He is Love; so that we may feel sure that His laws are perfect."

"Ay," echoed Mr. Howell, "you have struck the point now exactly. God is Love, and Love is God. Wherever love is, there

is God. Everywhere, I regard love as the gift of God, at least — a child of God. It is divine. I mean real love, not anything less. It is that which unites all other feelings into one grand passion; it is a harmony from God Himself."

It was evident from the readiness with which Leonard uttered these words, as well as from the warmth with which he spoke, that he was entirely upon familiar ground, and upon a phase of the subject that was specially inviting to him. Already he was constructing a religious, social, and moral creed, to suit his rapidly deteriorating nature. Already the power of Hortense to hold him up to his highest and best standard had been partially subverted. Already, others were beginning to occupy the throne with her, and he was worshipping at more than one altar. Who that has ready the story of Henry VIII., trimming his creed

and training his conscience to favor his infatuation with Anne Boleyn, could not see that Leonard C. Howell's enthusiasm for his creed did not spring entirely from abstract or spiritual consideration? He had carefully concealed from Hortense every unsightly feature of his professed belief, and had so covered it with the flowing robes of well-chosen words, that it appeared to her somewhat as an "angel of light"; and she was confused if not deceived. Her love for and fidelity to her husband made her wish to believe as he did; and she was half-inclined to accept his creed as an advance from, what she had begun to allow herself to feel, were the unnecessarily narrow views of the past days. Hence, when she listened to his smooth and familiar utterances, and she saw the fire of his nature kindle as he spoke, she was half-pleased, and waited anxiously for her minister' reply. Said Mr. Danforth:

"Love has no independent existence; it is an intensely personal attribute, and takes its character from the being whence it emanates. It is like a stream, unable to rise above its fountain; and like it also is unable to be better than its fountain. Love, too, is also under the law. Some things a man may love and be happy; other things he may love and be miserable. There is a love tha ennobles, purifies and elevates; and there is a love that degrades and destroys. Chastened love, love subject to reason and conscience, is the proudest ornament of human character, the only foundation for that purest and happiest place on earth — home. I agree with you in your eulogium of love; but I must be allowed to add, the love must be of the right kind and between the proper persons."

"Ay, there it is," replied Mr. Howell somewhat petulantly. "We do not tie or bind our benevolence, our charity, our philanthropy, our friendship, or any other of our attributes; but love, the highest of them all, must be fettered. Why so? Permit me to ask."

"You do not lock up the newspaper you received yesterday; nor your kitchen furniture; nor even the costly carpet and furniture of this beautiful room. They are all valuable. Why do you lock up your gold, the most valuable of all? Is it not that thieves and robbers may not get to it? For reasons somewhat similar but a thousandfold higher and stronger, the love that comes to us, and the love that goes out from us, should be guarded. The man who employss his money without care or control may come to penury and want; the man who thus employs what you are

pleased to call the 'highest and holiest attribute of his soul,' will come to ruin.

"I am of the opinion," replied Leonard, now fairly disclosing his views to the minister, "that it is not love which darkens homes; it is rather our selfish and monopolizing spirit, which claims more than its due. Love is one gift of God which always brightens; if, as I said, we could regard love rightly, then there would be great rejoicing by onlookers at every new birth of love, as there really is in our hearts, until we feel the shadow of jealousy darkening its brightness."

Happily for Hortense she saw nothing of the purport of this argument; nor of the real struggle, which was going on in her husband's mind, and which was rapidly hastening to a settlement against God, and right, and her. There was on her part confusion and foreboding; but her purity, her loyalty

and love, had thoroughly guarded her from the awful truth which was one day to break upon her. Nor did Mr. Danforth read all that was going on within that rapidly blackening heart. Mr. Howell's life thus far appeared, in fact, like some fruit which only ripens to rot. Had the theory produced the man? Or had the man produced the theory? Both. They were acting and reacting, the one upon the other.

"Let us once more return to our starting point, to God and his relation to us. Evidently you grant that He is entitled to our homage," replied Mr. Danforth, "and that the best love of our hearts is due Him, and that in cultivating respect for His laws, and reverence for His character, we are pursuing our highest good. We cannot go wrong in loving God, and loving our neighbor. Love is the fulfilling of the

law; and all the commandments are summed up in loving God to the extent of our ability, and in loving our neighbor as we love ourselves."

"I accept that as a general principle. We should have respect for the divine laws and reverence for the divine character, as we see it exhibited in the work of creation around us; and we should be governed by kind, even brotherly feeling generally; but this does not touch the main question or questions upon which, I presure, we differ," replied Mr. Howell. "You, of course, look upon the Bible and Christianity in one light and I in quite another. You regard the Bible as inspired and Christianity as the only true religion. I do not. I believe the Bible inspired in the same sense that Shakespeare's and Emerson' and scores of other men's writings were inspired. It is a great book, containing

much that is beautiful and much that is valuable; and when it shall become freed from the chains of orthodoxy men will learn to prize it much more that they do now. The Christian religion I believe to be true, true in part, as a form and expression. Religion is the essence of our nature and its real seat is in the heart. Its best exponents are the influences of nature and the responding impulses arising within."

To this still bolder exhibition of his views Mr. Danforth thought it proper to make an earnest reply. He did not for a moment attempt to defend the inspiration of the Bible, for he at once saw that this would give his friendly opponent the opportunity to drift further from the core of the subject, and also to employ an array of arguments already prepared, the answering of which would result in mere waste

of time. He chose to challenge the two points upon which Mr. Howell placed the entire support of his whole fabric of religion, to wit: the voice, light, or influence of nature, and the light within, whether called reason, conscience, or heart.

Mr. Howell had flattered himself that these were new ideas ti the minister, when, as a matter of fact, Mr. Danforth had studied them in all possible forms, and given due consideration to every vestige of their importance in his seminary days, while studying his "Hooker," and following his "syllabus." With ease, he showed the insufficiency of these lights, either singly or jointly, to support an active religion, but between revealed religion, and no religion. Such it was in the nature of the case, and such it was in the history of the world.

So clear, so earnest, and loving, were his method and manner, that Mr. was manifestly impressed, and saw no way of escaping to his favorite branch of the subject by anything like direct movement. He therefore proposed to yield in some measure the points he had maintained, thus granting the importance of the religious writings, and admitting the superiority of the Christian Scriptures.

Mr. Howell's real position was about this: The Scriptures and the churches stand in the way of what I conceive to be the plan of life which will afford me the most pleasure, the plan of life to which I am attracted by uncontrollable desire; if they are right I am wrong, fatally wrong.

When at an earlier period of his life he discussed the subject with the Vanross family, he had only a transient interest in the matter. He had imbibed the views of

others, but they rested quite lightly upon his manly and generous nature. He lived more in the hopes of securing the bride of his choice than in the realms of religious controversy. He was not then, and indeed never was afterward, at all fitted for abstract thinking or reasoning. He dwelt always in the actual, concrete world. His mind was practical and acute, and was kept always in close contact with living realities. Hence the first religious discussion upon which we saw him enter was in the presence of and full appreciation of his intended bride, and in the light of a happy and wordly future in which there was no thought of sin. All the surroundings at that time were such as almost to drive him to that form of religion whose home is always with the pure in heart.

The interregnum came, and Leonard became a whole man in business, living only

in that hard and narrow world, scarcely allowing his mind to arise above it or wander from it. He permitted occasional sallies into the field of popular benevolence, so far as to give his support to public education and other public measures; but these subjects were generally contemplated by him through the fieldglasses of business.

When the interregnum had passed and the question of religion had recurred, it was now his own question. It was within his heart, his mind, and his conscience. It was a concrete question. It was to be settled in the presence of wife and children, who had upon him claims which he could not ignore; and in the presence of a future filled with Sin. The differences in mental and moral state, and above all the differences in purpose and heart, had much more to do with Mr. Howell's changed

manner in discussing this subject than any abstract consideration of the question itself. He had not learned more, but he had sunk lower. He preached purity and love; he advocated freedom of intercourse among friends; he extolled virtue; he condemned the tyranny of custom and conventionalism; he expatiated on a higher form of friendly attraction which should exist between persons of the opposite sex, a feeling so far above the corrupt and debased feeling which usually prevailed that impurity could not exist in its presence; he described a state of personal purity in which persons might mix in delightful; freedom, enjoying and expressing by word and caress the sincerest affection, and yet there would be no evil; he was a dreamer of Eden delights between men, women, and children, surrounded by love, purity, and peace. This he preached to Hortense; this he preached to his household, and this he claimed to practice himself, and urged upon his wife to practice. This was the angel of light into which the filthiest doctrine ever invented by man was transformed, and which came so near deceiving one of God's "elect," the pious and ever faithful Hortense.

How nearly she was deceived is shown by one of her confidential letters written to her sister Lavinia about this period. She says in defense of her husband, and in explanation of her views, a subject upon which both Mr. Gordon and Lavinia were at this time especially exercised:

"Leonard fully and earnestly believes, and practices upon that belief, that quite free exchange of relations between two congenial persons of opposite sex is extremely beneficial, mentally and physically to both; that the soft, quiet, harmless and

warmth and delight of a pure affection will spring up, in which love becomes the master passion, and bids all others to stand at bay. He believes that in all mankind those are the highest who have met with temptation and conquered. He has not much respect for innocence, but the highest veneration for virtue."

This was Leonard C. Howell's picture as painted by his wife in strictest confidence to her own sister. Up to this hour he enjoyed the fullest faith and love of that Christian woman whose mind and heart he was seeking ti corrupt by most pernicious theories, and whose jealousy he was laboring to prevent and disarm by a skill that seemed almost diabolical. Leonard C. Howell was not sincere. His theory was a mere ruse, a systematic work of, strategy, by which he proposed to hedge

himself in from the gaze of mankind to some extent, and from the eyes of his noble wife in particular. Leonard feared that pure woman. He could brave the scorn or sneers of the world if he had to; but he could not endure the soft, tender, loving eyes of her who had given herself to him for life, coming to him pure as she came from the infant cradle, and having no thought but to be true to the spirit of the words "until death do us part." Corrupt her soul he could not; blindfold and deceive her he must. To this double purpose of corruption and deception he consecrated the astonishing energy of his fertile intellect.