The Hour and the Man Part 11

"How the wrong side, my son? Are you not fighting for your king, and for the allies of France?"

"I have been so pledged and so engaged; and I do not say that I was wrong when I so engaged and so pledged myself. But if I had been wise as a free man should be, I should have foreseen of late what has now happened, and not have been found, when last night's sun went down (and as to-morrow night's sun shall not find me), holding a command against the highest interests of my race--now, at length, about to be redeemed."

"You--Toussaint Breda--the loyal! If Heaven has put any of its grace within you, it has shown itself in your loyalty; and do you speak of deserting the forces raised in the name of your king, and acting upon the decrees of his enemies? Explain to me, my son, how this can be. It seems to me that I can scarcely be yet awake."

"And to me, it seems, father, that never till now have I been awake.

Yet it was in no vain dream that I served my king. If he is now where he can read the hearts of his servants, he knows that it was not for my command, or for any other dignity and reward, that I came hither, and have fought under the royal flag of France. It was from reverence and duty to him, under G.o.d. He is now in heaven; we have no king; and my loyalty is due elsewhere. I know not how it might have been if he had still lived; for it seems to me now that G.o.d has established a higher royalty among men than even that of an anointed sovereign over the fortunes of many millions of men. I think now that the rule which the free man has over his own soul, over time and eternity--subject only to G.o.d's will--is a n.o.bler authority than that of kings; but, however I might have thought, our king no longer lives; and, by G.o.d's mercy, as it seems to me now, while the hearts of the blacks feel orphaned and desolate, an object is held forth to us for the adoration of our loyalty--an object higher than throne and crown, and offered us by the hand of the King of kings."

"Do you mean freedom, my son? Remember that it is in the name of freedom that the French rebels have committed the crimes which--which it would consume the night to tell of, and which no one knows better, or abhors more, than yourself."

"It is true; but they struggled for this and that, and the other right and privilege existing in societies of those who are fully admitted to be men. In the struggle, crime has been victorious, and they have killed their king. The object of my devotion will now be nothing that has to be wrenched from an anointed ruler, nothing which can be gained by violence--nothing but that which, being already granted, requires only to be cherished, and may best be cherished in peace--the manhood of my race. To this must I henceforth be loyal."

"How can men be less slaves than the negroes of Saint Domingo of late?

No real change has taken place; and yet you, who wept that freedom as rebellion, are now proposing to add your force to it."

"And was it not rebellion? Some rose for the plunder of their masters-- some from ambition--some from revenge--many to escape from a condition they had not patience to endure. All this was corrupt; and the corruption, though bred out of slavery, as the fever from the marshes, grieved my soul as if I had not known the cause. But now, knowing the cause, and others (knowing it also) having decreed that slavery is at an end, and given the sanction of law and national sympathy to our freedom--is not the case changed? Is it now a folly or a sin to desire to realise and purify and elevate this freedom, that those who were first slaves and then savages may at length become men--not in decrees and proclamations only, but in their own souls? You do not answer, father. Is it not so?"

"Open yourself further, my son. Declare what you propose. I fear you are perplexing yourself."

"If I am deceived, father, I look for light from heaven through you."

"I fear--I fear, my son! I do not find in you to-night the tone of humility and reliance upon religion in which you found comfort the first time you opened the conflicts of your heart to me. You remember that night, my son?"

"The first night of my freedom? Never shall I forget its agonies."

"I rejoice to hear it. Those agonies were safer, more acceptable to G.o.d, than the comforts of self-will."

"My father, if my will ensnares me, lay open the snare--I say not for the sake of my soul only--but for far, far more--for the sake of my children, for the sake of my race, for the sake of the glory of G.o.d in His dealings with men, bring me back if I stray."

"Well. Explain--explain what you propose."

"I cannot remain in an army opposed to what are now the legal rights of the blacks."

"You will give up your command?"

"I shall."

"And your boys--what will you do with them?"

"Send them whence they came for the present. I shall dismiss them by one road, while the resignation of my rank goes by another."

"And you yourself by a third."

"When I have declared myself to General Hermona."

"Have you thoughts of taking your soldiers with you?"

"No."

"But what is right for you is right for them."

"If they so decide for themselves. My power over them is great. They would follow me with a word. I shall therefore avoid speaking that word, as it would be a false first step in a career of freedom, to make them enter upon it as slaves to my opinion and my will."

"But you will at least address them, that they may understand the course you pursue. The festival of this morning will afford an opportunity-- after ma.s.s. Have you thought of this?--I do not say that I am advising it, or sanctioning any part of your plan, but have you thought of this?"

"I have, and dismissed the thought. The proclamation will speak for itself. I act from no information which is not open to them all. They can act, thank G.o.d, for themselves; and I will not seduce them into subservience, or haste, or pa.s.sion."

"But you will be giving up everything. What can make you think that the French at Cap, all in the interest of the planters, will receive you?"

"I do not think it; and I shall not offer myself."

"Then you will sink into nothing. You will no longer be an officer, nor even a soldier. You will be a mere negro, where negroes are wholly despised. After all that you have been, you will be nothing."

"I shall be a true man."

"You will sink to less than nothing. You will be worse than useless before G.o.d and man. You will be held a traitor."

"I shall; but it will be for the sake of a higher fidelity."

There was a long pause, after which Laxabon said, in a tone half severe, and half doubting--

"So, here ends your career! You will dig a piece of ground to grow maize and plantains for your family; you will read history in your piazza, and see your daughters dance in the shade, while your name will never be mentioned but as that of a traitor. So here ends your career!"

"From no one so often as you, father, have I heard that man's career never ends."

The priest made no reply.

"How lately was it," pursued Toussaint, "that you encouraged my children, when they, who fear neither the wild bull nor the tornado, looked somewhat fearfully up to the eclipsed moon? Who was it but you who told them, that though that blessed light seemed blotted out from the sky, it was not so; but that behind the black shadow, G.o.d's hand was still leading her on, through the heaven, still pouring radiance into her lamp, not the less bright because it was hidden from men? A thick shadow is about to pa.s.s upon my name; but is it not possible, father, that G.o.d may still be feeding my soul with light--still guiding me towards Himself? Will you not once more tell me, that man's career never ends?"

"In a certain sense--in a certain sense, that is true, my son. But our career here is what G.o.d has put into our own hands: and it seems to me that you are throwing away His gift and His favour. How will you answer when He asks you, 'What hast thou done with the rank and the power I put into thy hand? How hast thou used them?' What can you then answer, but 'I flung them away, and made myself useless and a reproach.' You know what a station you hold in this camp--how you are prized by the General for the excellence of the military discipline you have introduced; and by me, and all the wise and religious, for the sobriety of manners and purity of morals of which you are an example in yourself, and which you have cherished among your troops, so that your soldiers are the boast of the whole alliance. You know this--that you unite the influence of the priest with the power of the commander; and yet you are going to cast off both, with all the duties which belong to them, and sink yourself in infamy--and with yourself, the virtues you have advocated. How will you answer this to G.o.d?"

"Father, was there not One in whose path lay all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them, and who yet chose ignominy--to be despised by the world, instead of to lead it? And was G.o.d severe with Him?

Forgive me, father; but have you not desired me to follow Him, though far-off as the eastern moon from the setting sun?"

"That was a case, my son, unique in the world. The Saviour had a lot of His own. Common men have rulers appointed them whom they are to serve; and, if in rank and honour, so much the greater the favour of G.o.d. You entered this service with an upright mind and pure intent; and here, therefore, can you most safely remain, instead of casting yourself down from the pinnacle of the temple, which, you know, the Son of G.o.d refused to do. Remember His words, 'Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy G.o.d.' Be not tempted yourself, by pride of heart, to compare your lot with that of Christ, which was unique."

"He devoted Himself for the whole race of man: He, and He alone. But it seems to me that there may be periods of time when changes are appointed to take place among men--among nations, and even among races; and that a common man may then be called to devote himself for that nation, or for that race. Father, I feel that the hour may be come for the negro race to be redeemed; and that I, a common man, may so far devote myself as not to stand in the way of their redemption. I feel that I must step out from among those who have never admitted the negroes' claims to manhood. If G.o.d should open to me a way to serve the blacks better, I shall be found ready. Meantime, not for another day will I stand in the light of their liberties. Father," he continued, with an eagerness which grew as he spoke, "you know something of the souls of slaves. You know how they are smothered in the l.u.s.ts of the body, how they are debased by the fear of man, how blind they are to the providence of G.o.d!

You know how oppression has put out the eyes of their souls, and withered its sinews. If now, at length, a Saviour has once more for them stretched out His healing hand, and bidden them see, and arise and be strong, shall I resist the work? And you, father, will you not aid it? I would not presume; but if I might say all--"

"Say on, my son."

"Having reproved and raised the souls of slaves, would it not henceforth be a n.o.ble work for you to guide their souls as men? If you would come among us as a soldier of Christ, who is bound to no side in earthly quarrels--if you would come as to those who need you most, the lowest, the poorest, the most endangered, what a work may lie between this hour and your last! What may your last hour be, if, day by day, you have trained our souls in the glorious liberty of the children of G.o.d! The beginning must be lowly; but the kind heart of the Christian priest is lowly: and you would humble yourself first to teach men thus,--'you were wrong to steal'--'you were wrong to drink'--'you were wrong to take more wives than one, and to strike your children in pa.s.sion.' Thus humbly must you begin; but among free men, how high may you not rise? Before you die, you may have led them to rule their own spirits, and, from the throne of that sovereignty, to look far into the depths of the heavens, and over the history of the world; so that they may live in the light of G.o.d's countenance, and praise Him almost like the angels--for, you know, He has made us, even us, but a little lower than they."

"This would be a n.o.ble work," said Laxabon, much moved: "and if G.o.d is really about to free your race, He will appoint a worthy servant for the office. My duty, however, lies here. I have here souls in charge, without being troubled with doubts as to the intentions of G.o.d and of men. As I told you, the General does not think so much as you do of this event; nor even does Jean Francais. If you act rashly, you will repent for ever having quitted the path of loyalty and duty. I warn you to pause, and see what course events will take. I admonish you not hastily to desert the path of loyally and duty."

"If it had pleased G.o.d," said Toussaint, humbly, "to release me from the ignorance of slavery when He gave me freedom, I might now be able to lay open my heart as I desire to do; I might declare the reasons which persuade me so strongly as I feel persuaded. But I am ignorant, and unskilful in reasoning with one like you, father."

"It is therefor that we are appointed to guide and help you, my son.

You now know my mind, and have received my admonition. Let us proceed to confession; for the morning draws on towards the hour for ma.s.s."