Chapter V

Until long after midnight Doctor Taine lingered in the library and seemed to be both mentally and physically depressed. Several volumes were lying open on the table within his reach, passages in which he was comparing with something he found in the large book that was drawn near him under the broad lamp shade, and which chiefly occupied his attention.

He frequently paused and pressed his hands to his forehead with deep drawn sighs that were the utterance of a far deeper dejection. He had addressed himself to his usual task in the earlier part of the evening with about his ordinary spirit. But the prehistoric and historic analogies which he had been examining for some time in connection with the accepted doctrines of modern Christian theology, failed on this occasion to attract his mind to the same concentrated efforts as formerly. In spite of his best endeavors to avert so unseemly an amalgamation, he found the heroes of mythology and the personifications of Egyptian and Buddhist theology inextricably involved with the saints and historians of the Church; and, at length, these and all the rest mixed up with the dramatis personae of his own domestic and professional comedy. There seemed to him, more than on any other occasion that he could remember, a delusive intangibility about everything, both past and present, and he felt a certain alarm at the chaotic state in which all appeared. Was it his mind that had produced the chaos, or was it the external chaos acting upon his mind?

“Surely,” he thought in his perplexity, “I have reason enough to ponder! My fireside deserted by the dear ones who should nestle here in comfort and peace, my heart steeped in wormwood instead of domestic love! What a rank and infernal inconsistency for a man who cannot keep order in his own household to pretend to teach others the way to Heaven! And is not this the natural outcome of these theologies? They all strive to compass the world to come at the expense of the world that is here; but if we cannot learn to live in this world, how shall we know how to live in a better one?”

The doctor had long since become aware that to whatever extent the doctrine of justification by faith might be carried in the case of others, it had in it no consolation for him. The conviction that religion meant action rather than mere belief was growing stronger in his mind from day to day, and he had named the fact from his pulpit much to his hurt among the orthodox. He was conscious of some irreligion in his own life, and had no doubt his present suffering was a partial punishment for it; but to what extent could past errors be corrected by consistent effort to that end? Could they ever be obliterated, or was the sinner, like Sisyphus, forever burdened with a woe that will roll back upon and torture him?

“Some people,” he mused, “even among my own congregation, call me an infidel. Somebody has informed them that I read the works of infidels, and that the flavor of those works comes out in my own discourse. I am not certain that this accusation is devoid of truth, for if the definition of infidelity given by the chief of these offenders be correct, I must be classed with them: He says that an infidel is one who pretends to believe what in fact he does not believe at all. Well, then, I am an infidel, for I tacitly admit every day of my life belief in legends and dogmas which I secretly discredit and suspect.”

This aspect of the case was quite a new one in the doctor’s contemplation, and caused him much uneasiness; for he was a true and conscientious man according to his light and understanding, and he doubted not that if such was in truth his own condition, the same might be said of many others in the pulpit.

“Yes,” he resumed, “it is even so. The masses demand myths, and we satisfy the demand at the price of our convictions and our honor, to secure their support.”

Though he had been subject of late to severe attacks of despondency, he had never felt so cast down as on this occasion, and it was after three o’clock when he put out the lamp, and, wrapping his warm dressing gown snugly about him soon fell into a heavy slumber in his easy chair.

There Hagar found him when she came in at seven o’clock with his cocoa and toast. He awoke as she opened the door.

“Ah! I have caught you, you naughty, naughty, old man!” she exclaimed as she approached and patted his face affectionately with both her plump little hands. “You have sat up all night again after what you promised me—it is very wrong of you, dear father.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fondly as she spoke, and then stroked his brow which she thought was rather feverish.

“No, my darling,” said Dr. Taine, “I was thinking about subjects which troubled me, and I felt no inclination to go to bed. But if you will forgive me this time, I promise to be better in future. How delicious this cocoa is: I should not have it but for you. Do you think that you will one day wish to leave me?”

“No, dear father, never!” she exclaimed as she noted a slight tremor in his voice. She meant to be sincere, but the moment she had spoken the words she was conscious of a presentiment which belied them. She was about to add something by way of qualification, but was prevented by Dr. Taine who seemed to be relishing the light breakfast she had brought him.

“Hagar, as I have an early engagement in the city this morning, will you tell Dan to have my buggy ready in half an hour. I forgot to mention it last night.”

It was a clear bracing morning, and as Hagar crossed the lawn to repeat the message to Dan whom she saw coming in with the milk pails, she was met by Mr. Smiles who was sauntering about the grounds smoking his cigar.

“Good morning, Miss Hagar,” said the minister, saluting her gallantly. I see you are, like myself, an early riser. The morning is undoubtedly the best part of the day, for then all nature, like the human mind, is refreshed by the night’s repose. It is then that the intelligence expands and takes impressions which are impossible at any other time. Have you come out for a walk?”

She delivered her message to Dan and was strolling down the avenue in company with Mr. Smiles when he said:—

“I was interested in the account Mrs. Taine gave me of that young man who came here last night—Mr. Leigh. Have you known him very long?”

“Over a year,” replied Hagar.

“I was sorry,” continued Mr. Smiles, “not to have a better opportunity to converse with him; he seems a brilliant fellow, but I should say he is rather eccentric.”

“He is thought peculiar, I believe.”

“You must make me acquainted with him, Miss Hagar; could I not call with you? You mentioned last night that his wife is a friend of yours.”

“Yes, and I am anxious to go and see her. But Father Taine hasn’t time to take me, Ma’am Taine dislikes Josephine and declines to visit her, and I am afraid to go alone.”

“We must try and prevail on her; and if we succeed, may I join the party?”

“Ma’am Taine must answer that, Mr. Smiles.”

“Then I’ll ask her at breakfast.”

They presently heard the bell, and on returning to the house met Dr. Taine on the porch. After the usual greetings Mr. Smiles said:

“I was struck with the appearance and bearing of that extraordinary young patriot who called last night, and should much like to have a better acquaintance with him.”

“He is reserved and dislikes any special attention, and it is probably owing to his modesty in this respect that he excites universal interest. Still, you can readily become better acquainted with him. Has Hagar told you his history?” asked Dr. Taine, as they went in to breakfast.

“No, I heard it from Mrs. Taine, before his arrival last night. I think his case is unparalleled.”

“It is explained by a simple circumstance: though to the manor born, he was too enlightened by experience and observation beyond and outside the South to be blinded by the sophistries of the Rebel cause. He had long since refused to join the order of the ‘Golden Circle,’ because he discerned the treasonable ambition of its designs; and I understand that he worked with a zeal that was truly noble to prevent the demoniac frenzy of Beauregard which he rightly foresaw would set the country in flames and turn the beautiful South into a wilderness. You may hear some of copper-head proclivities who will tell you that it is a case of captivity to a woman’s beauty; but the truth is that his allegiance to his country was full grown long before he met her. She may be a reward for his fidelity, but she was certainly not the cause of it.”

“The wife of the Captain, then, is remarkable for her beauty?” asked Mr. Smiles.

“Nobody can deny that she has a very pretty face,” said Mrs. Taine, “but I’m sure I, for one, do not think her remarkably beautiful. Still Captain Leigh saw enough of the world before he married her: he ought to have known what he was about.”

Hagar soon afterward found an occasion to express her opinion that, though Mrs. Leigh’s beauty was remarkable, her true merit lay in the goodness and gentleness of her character. Mrs. Taine took offence at this amiable praise which seemed to challenge her own statement, and the subject was dropped.

After breakfast Dr. Taine and Mark started for the city. It was a little after nine o’clock when they reached the suburbs, and as they were passing through a square that was the daily scene of a produce market, they saw a crowd assembled in the open space and heard loud threatening language which seemed to indicate that a fight was in progress. The doctor stopped at the roadside, and as the crowd surged in that direction, Mark stood up in the carriage and could see that a solitary individual who appeared to be struggling for his life, was being maltreated by the others, while the air was rent by their derisive yells and laughter.

Mark leaped from the buggy, and was quickly followed by Dr. Taine, who called a boy to hold his horse. Mark penetrated the throng far enough to see that the butt of the mob was a young man, that he was pinioned, and was being very roughly dealt with. The participants in the assault, as well as the noisy bystanders, acted as if they thought him lawful prey: while the men spattered him with mud or quids of tobacco, the boys, and even a few old crones, were pelting him with potatoes and other missiles, and doing and saying all they could to heap insult and opprobrium upon him. Not a policeman was to be seen. The approach of Father Taine was remarked by some of the roughs, and when he asked in the spirit of a peacemaker what the unfortunate man had done to call down their wrath, a thick-necked fellow, who seemed to be a ringleader, bawled out:

“What has he done! why he’s cooked his own goose, haint ’e boys? He’s a blasted Mormonite and comes here—here into the sacred precincts of this market, to give us his chin-music on that tack—and we haint goin’ to have it, be we boys?”

“No!” yelled the crowd, with renewed energy.

“He says he’s a saint—I wonder who canonized him!” screeched one of the huckster-women who flourished a piece of bed cord ready-noosed to slip around the Mormon’s neck. “Just let me come at him,” she shrieked with fiendish zeal, “I’ll soon put him through the ceremony.”

As yet Dr. Taine had not been able to catch sight of the object of the rabble’s ire. Mark now rejoined him saying that the mob were committing a flagrant crime and that they must summon the police. A man who was taking no part was sent with all haste to the nearest station and the two gentlemen remained for the purpose of preventing what seemed likely to prove a tragedy.

“Come on, my hearties!” cried the coarse ruffian who had previously replied to Doctor Taine. “Come on now; lift him up high and dry and let’s give him a nice present, a coat of tar and feathers! That’s the thing for birds of his kind. Then we’ll treat him to a first class ride on a rail; for he’s a poor cuss, used to hoofin’ it without shoes on; he’s not used to luxuries, but his prophet, my old cronie, Joe Smith, knew how to appreciate such things, and it will elevate the saint’s soul to copy arter his master!”

A wild shriek of laughter was the crowd’s reply. Some of the roughs who were nearest the Mormon, seized him, and carried him by main force through the opening made by the mob.

Father Taine now had a full view of the Mormon, and, turning to Mark, said excitedly:

“Why Mark, it’s the young man from the hospital, the man who saved Hagar!”

“Are you sure of that?” asked Mark.

“I am!”

“Then this shall cease at once. Look here, my men,” he said, with authority, “You are committing a criminal act, and if you don’t put that man down, I’ll make you suffer for it.”

“Oh! will you?” roared the stalwart leader. “And who are you, my fine clad youth?”

“No matter who I am,” replied Mark. “The man you are abusing is the hero of the great fire on Sunday; don’t you see the scars on his face.”

“Yes,” urged the doctor in a voice of entreaty, “he is doubly a hero, for he saved the lives of my daughter and my son that day. For shame! for shame! to maltreat a helpless fellowman!” He was near enough now for the Mormon to hear his voice. The poor fellow was exhausted and had ceased to struggle when his tormentors stood him on the ground and eyed him with curiosity. They had all heard the story of the “Globe” reporter being saved by a man who kept back his name, and many among them knew the venerable minister by sight. The bystanders were now inclined to side with the Mormon, but again the leading bully sprang forward, exclaiming in a mocking voice:

“Oh! you don’t say, do you? He saved your daughter! Did he? Well then, I’ll just give him one for his own salvation to grow on.”

He pressed towards the helpless young man with the evident intention of giving him a terrible blow with his sledge-like fist; but Mark stopped him.

“You cowardly ruffian! would you strike a man with his hands bound?”

“Yes!” the saucy rascal replied, “or loose, either!” And so saying he struck out with all his might at Mark’s head. The latter deftly warded off the blow, and returned one on his assailant’s temple that felled him to the ground. The sympathy of the crowd was so much divided by this time that a majority was in favor of the right side, and before the other bullies could attack Mark, the police arrived and put most of them to flight by the mere act of appearing on the scene.

“Here’s our business,” said the sergeant: “Who struck this man?”

“I,” replied Mark. “He attacked me, and I knocked him down in self- defense.”

“No explanations! You can make them to the Justice. Come along.” He laid his hand on Mark, and the other policeman kept back the crowd. Dr. Taine attempted to tell the sergeant about the violent scene they had witnessed, but he waved him back with an injunction to keep his evidence for the police court. As he was proceeding to take the names and addresses of some of the bystanders whom he intended to summon as witnesses, the man on the ground began to recover consciousness, and the young Mormon, who had just told Dr. Taine that he was assaulted because he ventured to preach the christian religion, pointing to the fallen bully said:

“That man is the one who attacked your daughter. He has shaved off his beard, and is differently dressed, but I know he is the man.” By this time the ruffian had staggered to his feet and was trying to steal away unnoticed.

“It is a serious charge, but are you certain?” asked Dr. Taine, in a whisper.

“As I hope for a hereafter, I swear to you that I am certain!”

“Detain that man,” said Dr. Taine to the sergeant. “He is not only at the bottom of this difficulty, but is wanted for a still more heinous crime.” The charge against him was repeated to the officer who had already, in common with the rest of the force, received instructions from the chief touching this matter. The policemen looked well-pleased with their morning’s work, and marched their prisoners off to the Central Station with a good deal of swagger.

Justice Coles was in his court-room and the regular morning session of his court was about to begin; but he was a personal friend of Dr. Taine’s as well as a member of his congregation, and on catching sight of him and Mark Kilbourne among the rabble in the hall, came out to inquire what was the trouble. From what he gleaned, he ordered the release of Mark, and the committal of the leader of the rioters (who gave his name as Adam Joyce) for hearing next day. Joyce was taken away to the cells at once, and the Justice invited the doctor, Mark, and the Mormon into a private room, the latter individual, owing to his morning’s adventure, presenting a pitiable appearance.

“What is your name, young man?” asked Justice Coles, looking at him curiously after comments by both Mark and the doctor regarding Hagar’s rescue and the fire.

“Spencer,” he replied briefly.

“Your given name?”

“Charles.”

“Your place of residence and your present address?” pursued the judge, jotting down his answers.

“My home is in Salt Lake City, Utah, my present address, a sailors’ boarding house in Erie street, this city. I only went there from the hospital this morning, and did not notice the number.”

“You have good grounds for this charge?”

“Yes, sir, I am so certain that he is the man I would stake my life upon it.”

“Well then, I hope you will be able to bring forward sufficient evidence to convict him. We will give the case a preliminary hearing at ten to- morrow morning.”

They separated shortly afterwards, Mark going to the headquarters of the State troops, and the doctor taking Spencer in his carriage to the Tabernacle.

The private quarters of the minister at his place of worship, were pleasant and well appointed; they had evidently been constructed with a view to equal comfort and convenience. The library was carpeted with Brussels, and furnished in walnut: handsome and well-filled book-cases stood between the windows on one side of the room, while on the other the walls were hung with the latest charts of Palestine and the Roman Empire, and several fine steel engravings of Biblical subjects. The surroundings indicated the cultured thoughtfulness and easy finances of the doctor’s supporters.

Spencer had never seen anything of the sort before. He had only known the naked austerity of the backwoods where Spartan plainness and simplicity are universal for the reason that Athenian luxuries are out of reach, and he regarded all these trappings as indicative of the sway of the “Scarlet Woman.” The contrast between this and the small adobe shanty with slab benches familiar to him, was irritating, and he resented it with vivid if suppressed disgust.

Dr. Taine showed him to an inner room, where he found all the conveniences of a gentleman’s boudoir, that he might repair, as far as washing and brushing could, the damage he had suffered from the mob. All this, to the eye of the missionary, was but further proof of the worldliness and vanity of the Babylonians, which meant everybody except the members of his own sect.

The worldly appliances, however, helped to improve his appearance considerably, and when he returned to the library he found the doctor sitting before a cheerful anthracite fire awaiting him.

“I congratulate you, Mr. Spencer, that you were not seriously hurt,” the doctor said cordially. “Sit down and let us talk awhile. My plans for the morning have been broken up by this occurrence, and we shall now enjoy a few moments without interruption. As I was saying, I knew your father well for several years before he joined the Mormon prophet, and it strikes me as somewhat remarkable that you, his son, should come here now as an apostle of his sect and make me in a moment so greatly your debtor. The circumstance is one of extraordinary interest, is it not?”

“It is as surprising to myself as to any one,” the young man replied, thoughtfully.

“But why were you so persistent in the concealment of your name?”

“It turns out to have been entirely useless; but my object was to prevent people from confounding a personal act, into which I was forced by circumstances, with the sacred duty I have come here to perform. I did not wish to give them the opportunity of saying that the Mormon missionary sought to make himself conspicuous by any means whatever outside his work as a minister of truth, and I am sorry that to-day’s trouble has given our enemies this advantage.”

Dr. Taine hoped that he would not encourage so bad an opinion of mankind as to suppose they could ascribe base motives to one who dashed into the flames to save a fellow being, and gave it as his belief that so soon as it became known that the Mormon missionary and the hero of the fire were one, he would be able to prosecute his mission in peace.

“I shall rejoice if your prediction prove true, but I have serious doubts,” replied the Mormon. “The people of Ohio hardened their hearts against us long ago, and they are not likely to soften them in a day, especially in such times as these.”

“At least, I will promise to do my best to insure you a peaceable hearing while you remain here, for I hold that any man who is sober and rational has a right to express his views in this free land of ours, and the only alternative of the public, or any part of it, is not to listen, to go its way, if the opinions he supports are obnoxious. Mob violence is always bad and generally has the opposite effect from what is intended—it may, and often does, destroy truly good and useful men; it gives color to the plea of persecution and martyrdom so often raised by the champions of dangerous heresies, and thereby prolongs the existence of the evil institutions which, left to themselves, would soon perish and be forgotten.”

“I apprehend that you make a covert reference to our cause; and, without discussing its merits, I have no hesitation in saying that we have always been most flourishing when hardest pressed by enemies without and within. We have grown fat on persecution: that was the Lord’s way of scorning the machinations of the ungodly who injured us. ‘Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of them all.’ At the time of the martyrdom of the prophet, Joseph Smith, and the destruction of our beautiful Capitol, Nauvoo, it looked for a while, as I have often heard my father say, that complete dissolution was at hand. But such appearances only belied the designs of God concerning his people Israel, and a very brief period under his guidance was sufficient to render us doubly as rich and numerous, and more united than ever before.” The young missionary spoke with fervent enthusiasm.

Dr. Taine, in answer said that he would be the last man in the world to deny the hand of God in the destiny of men, but that the fact must be kept in view that Brigham Young was a much abler man than Joseph Smith.

“The latter,” he added, “possessed the talent to draw such a sect about him, but it required the character of Brigham Young to organize and keep it together. His move with an entire people into the wilderness that only wanted human labor to turn it into a paradise, was one of the boldest and most magnificent strokes in history. His predecessor had gone to the Missouri years before, but had turned back, and recrossed even the Mississippi, and so what might have been a Mormon empire is but a territory of the United States. The prophet missed his opportunity. He seems to have lacked both courage and faith. But, not so Brigham Young. He is a penetrating politician, and a man of strong and energetic will; fertile in the resources required for the role he has assumed, he is also correct in judgment where his interests are concerned, and enjoys the confidence of his people because his life is consistent with his teachings. Such a man must know, in his secret heart, that by establishing polygamy he has licensed a monster of evil that will soon stifle all the good he may accomplish.”

The Mormon’s eyes sparkled and the blood mounted to his temples as he said impetuously:—

“You say this, Dr. Taine! you whose daughter was assaulted on the Sabbath day in this christian State of Ohio!”

“I did not say it to provoke you, my young friend, and if my remark has had that effect I most gladly recall it, and we will drop the subject,” replied the doctor, who was surprised to see the sudden anger of the Elder.

“No, I am wrong,” continued the young man in a lower voice, “the point will bear discussion; and though I should have no hope of convincing you, I shall be willing to express my views, (or, rather, those of the saints) concerning the doctrine and practice of celestial marriage, if you care to hear them.”

“Let me hear, then, what you think yourself of the doctrine and the practice.”

He began by stating that the doctrine was of divine institution, not only in ancient times among the patriarchs who enjoyed the privilege of walking and talking with Jehovah, but had been rehabilitated in all its pristine beatitudes by a direct revelation from Heaven in these ‘last days.’ The practice was intended by the Almighty as a great boon to all unbelievers, and such it had proved to be among the saints, where women were never wronged by men, because the sacred avenue of marriage was open to all; dishonor and misery, which were common to the rest of the world, were unknown to the people of Zion—virgins were never undone—wives and husbands were never cheated of their rights!

He waxed so eloquent, indeed, in his praises of the terrestrial paradise beyond the Rocky Mountains, that the doctor looked at him with admiration, and was on the point of applauding his ingenuous fervor when he stopped speaking.

“A practical demonstration of the use and the truth of polygamy, as revealed to us,” pursued the young man earnestly, “is constantly held up before the eyes of the world, and woe unto them if they will not see it:—Your cities are steeped in vice and corruption, your homes are blighted and dismembered by lust, the vicious haunts are thronged by the frail victims of married men; but your theology does little or nothing to stop this growth of sin, while ours goes to the root of it;—what you have made a curse we make a blessing; God has given us the key and the power by which to prevent the blight that is settling upon the earth!”

The doctor perceived that further argument would be useless at that time, and gently interrupted him to ask if he had fully informed himself as to the moral condition of American homes and cities, or observed among the saints the beneficent results of which he spoke. He replied that of the first he only judged by newspaper reports and the accounts given by Mormon elders who had labored throughout the States; of the last he merely described what he knew to be the facts.

Dr. Taine commended his earnestness, and expressed a belief that he possessed a spirit to command and enforce success. Though he reflected that it was a pity such a spirit was not given to a better cause, he said kindly:

“You are sincere, I am sure, and I see no reason why the cause you represent has not as good claims to public toleration as many others which enjoy that boon. What you have said has interested me. I shall be pleased to recur to the subject at more leisure. I like to observe all forms and phases of human thought and action with the broadest tolerance, because, by the opposite course, we are liable to overlook as of no consequence, phenomena which are necessary and important adjuncts of that onward struggle in which, I hope, we are all of us engaged.”

A ring at this moment announced the arrival of visitors with whom the doctor had business.

“My daily routine now commences, and I must reluctantly ask you to excuse me,” he said, taking Spencer cordially by the hand. The visitors came in, but he merely saluted them and conducted the shabby young Mormon to the door with the utmost deference. He would not let him depart until he had promised to call often to see him, and that he would drive out to Chestnut Grove next day after the hearing at the police court.

“I will accept your hospitality, Dr. Taine, not because I want any return for what I have done, but in the hope that I may be the means of bringing you or your children to a knowledge of the true faith.”

The Elder’s face was as serious as that of an Indian chief in council. The doctor smiled complacently, and pressed his hand as he said “good day.”

Spencer hurried to his humble room on Erie street, where he sat down listlessly and occupied his thoughts with something rather outside his mission work. He had thought of the same subject a good deal for some days past; in fact, it had scarcely quitted his mind for a moment since it first found a place there.

“I walk by short stages all the way from the Missouri River and preach in more than twenty different towns and villages,” he reflected, as he sat knitting his brows and pressing his palms against his forehead. “During the entire journey I do not travel a mile on the Sabbath, because wherever I am on that day I find a few seekers after truth who listen to my message. But on this particular Sabbath I am carried by force from my lodgings before daylight and driven from Elyria by a christian mob! Hungry, despondent, and footsore, I press on towards Cleveland for the express purpose, as it now seems, of saving two lives and almost losing my own. ‘How mysterious are thy ways, oh Lord!’ And now, the image of that lovely girl haunts me like a beautiful vision. I never saw such exquisite grace—and she, this sweet May morning of perfect woman-hood, owes me her life—perhaps much more than that! That good-natured old minister of error will take care that I have no opportunity to win her to the Gospel, but if she thinks of me—”

He stopped suddenly and picked up the Book of Mormon which lay on a small pine table near him, with a sad look about the bare and cheerless room, but both his appearance and his sighs gave proof that at that time he could find no solid consolation in the text-book of his faith.

“I don’t see my way so clearly since I met her,” he muttered. “Perhaps this is a trick of Satan to turn me from my duty; but it shall not succeed!”

He resolved to forget her; but when he went out to seek a hearing among the rough men on the wharves, her sweet image went with him, and combat as he might, he could not banish her from his heart.