<h2><SPAN name="chapter_xv" id="chapter_xv">XV</SPAN></h2>
<h3>SILAS WRIGHT'S TEXT</h3>
<h3>I</h3>
<p>Silas Wright was deprived by sheer modesty of
the honor of being President of the United States.
His is one of the truly Homeric figures in American
history. By downright purity of motive,
transparency of purpose, and the devotion of commanding
powers to the public good, he won for himself
the honor, the love and the unbounded confidence
of all his fellows. It used to be said of him
that he was as honest as any man under heaven
<i>or in it</i>. He might have aspired to any office to
which it was in America's power to call him. Only
his extreme humility, and his dread of impeding
the promotion of his friends, kept him from rising
to a position in which his name would have taken
its place with those of Washington and Lincoln.
But he refused almost every honor. 'He refused
cabinet appointments,' says Benton, in his <i>Thirty
Years' View</i>. 'He refused a seat on the bench of
the Supreme Court of the United States; he rejected
instantly the nomination of 1844 for Vice-President;
he refused to be nominated for the Presidency.
He spent as much time in declining office
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</SPAN></span>
as others did in winning it. The offices he did
accept were thrust upon him. He was born great
and above office and unwillingly descended to it.'
Whittier is very conservative in his choice of heroes.
Those whom he commemorates in verse are
not only great men, but good ones. And Silas
Wright is among them. 'Man of the millions,' he
says, in the lines that he penned on hearing of Mr.
Wright's death:</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Man of the millions, thou art lost too soon!<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Portents at which the bravest stand aghast--<br/></span>
<span class="i0">The birththroes of a Future, strange and vast,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Alarm the land; yet thou, so wise, and strong,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Suddenly summoned to the burial bed,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Lapped in its slumbers deep and ever long,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Hear'st not the tumult surging overhead.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Who now shall rally Freedom's scattered host?<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Who wear the mantle of the leader lost?<br/></span></div>
</div>
<p>The splendid personality of Silas Wright has
been best revealed to us in Irving Bacheller's <i>The
Light in the Clearing</i>. The book is partly history
and partly commentary and partly fiction. Silas
Wright, says Irving Bacheller, carried the candle
of the Lord; and all the world rejoiced in its radiance.</p>
<h3>II</h3>
<p>Barton Baynes, the hero of the book--for whose
actuality and historicity the author vouches--is an
orphan brought up on a farm by his Uncle Peabody
and Aunt Deel. Getting into all sorts of
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</SPAN></span>
scrapes, he makes up his mind that he is too heavy
a burden on the affectionate and good-natured
couple; and one night he runs away. Out in the
darkness, however, he meets with strange adventures,
loses his way, and at length finds himself in
the hands of Silas Wright, the Comptroller. The
Senator first falls in love with the bright-faced,
open-hearted, intelligent boy, and then takes him
back to his uncle's farm. From that moment the
friendship between the two--the great man and the
obscure country boy--grows apace. After a while
the Senator visits the district to deliver an address,
and he spends the night at the farmhouse. It is a
great occasion for Bart; and after supper an incident
occurs that colors all his life and strikes the
keynote of the book. As Barton approaches Mr.
Wright to say Good-night, the Senator says:</p>
<p>'I shall be gone when you are up in the morning.
It may be a long time before I see you; I shall leave
something for you in a sealed envelope with your
name on it. You are not to open the envelope until
you go away to school. I know how you will feel
that first day. When night falls, you will think of
your aunt and uncle and be very lonely. When you
go to your room for the night I want you to sit down
all by yourself and read what I shall write. They
will be, I think, the most impressive words ever
written. You will think them over, but you will not
understand them for a long time. Ask every wise
man you meet to explain them to you, for all your
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</SPAN></span>
happiness will depend upon your understanding of
those few words in the envelope.'</p>
<p>The words in the sealed envelope!</p>
<p>What are the mysterious words in the envelope?</p>
<p>And what if the sealed envelope contains a <i>text</i>?</p>
<h3>III</h3>
<p>In the morning, when Barton rose, the Senator
was gone, and Aunt Deel handed the boy the sealed
envelope. It was addressed: 'Master Barton
Baynes; to be opened when he leaves home to go to
school.' That day soon came. At the Canton
Academy, under the care of the excellent Michael
Hacket, Bart felt terribly lonely, and, in accordance
with the Senator's instructions, he opened the note.
And this is what he read:</p>
<p>'Dear Bart, I want you to ask the wisest man
you know to explain these words to you. I suggest
that you commit them to memory and think often
of their meaning. They are from Job: "<i>His bones
are full of the sin of his youth, which shall lie down
with him in the dust.</i>" I believe that they are the
most impressive in all the literature I have read.--Silas
Wright.'</p>
<p>Bart soon learned to love and admire the schoolmaster;
<i>he</i> was the wisest man he knew; to <i>him</i>,
therefore, he went for an explanation of the words.</p>
<p>'All true!' exclaimed Mr. Hacket, after reading
the note. 'I have seen it sinking into the bones of
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</SPAN></span>
the young, and I have seen it lying down with the
aged in the dust of their graves. Your body is like
a sponge; it takes things in and holds them and
feeds upon them. A part of every apple that you
eat sinks down into your blood and bones. You
can't get it out. It's the same with the books that
you read and the thoughts that you enjoy. They
go down into your bones and you can't get them
out. <i>A man's bones are full of the sin of his youth,
which lies down with him in the dust!</i>'</p>
<h3>IV</h3>
<p>But the best exposition of the text is not Michael
Hacket's, but Irving Bacheller's. The whole book
is a vivid and arresting and terrible forth-setting
of the impressive words that Barton found in his
sealed envelope.</p>
<p>All through the book two dreadful characters
move side by side--Benjamin Grimshaw and Silent
Kate. Benjamin Grimshaw is rich and proud and
pitiless. Everybody is afraid of him. But Roving
Kate is not afraid. Indeed, he seems to be more
afraid of her. Wherever he is, she is there. She
is wild and bony and ragged. She is, or pretends to
be, half demented. She tells fortunes with strange
antics and gesticulations, scrawling her prognostications
upon stray slips of paper. But Benjamin
Grimshaw is the main object of her attention. She
hates him, and hates him all the more terribly because
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</SPAN></span>
she once loved him. For Roving Kate, the
Silent Woman, was once Kate Fullerton, Squire
Fullerton's pretty daughter. And Benjamin Grimshaw
had loved her, and betrayed her, and spurned
her, and married another. In the village cemetery
you might have seen a tombstone bearing her name.
Her father erected it to show that she was dead <i>to
him</i> for ever. Poor Kate had never known her
mother. And so, in the course of the story, Benjamin
Grimshaw had two sons, only one of whom he
recognized. For Kate Fullerton was the mother
of the other. And, in her shame and her anger
and her hate, Kate resolved to follow the father of
her base-born child all the days of his life; and there
she stands--unkempt, repulsive, menacing--always
near him, the living embodiment of <i>the sin of his
youth</i>.</p>
<p>Amos Grimshaw, his petted and pampered son,
comes to the gallows. He is convicted of murder
upon the highway. The father is in court when the
Judge pronounces the awful sentence. And, of
course, Roving Kate is there. Ragged as ever, the
Silent Woman is waiting for him as he comes down
the steps. She shoots out a bony finger at him, as,
bowed and broken, he passes into the street. He
turns and strikes at her with his cane.</p>
<p>'Go away from me,' he cries. 'Take her away,
somebody! I can't stand it! She's killing me!
Take her away!'</p>
<p>His face turns purple and then livid. He reels
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</SPAN></span>
and falls headlong. He is dead! Three days later
they bury him. Roving Kate stands by the graveside,
strangely changed. She is decently dressed;
her hair is neatly combed; the wild look has left
her eyes. She looks like one whose back is relieved
of a heavy burden. She scatters little red
squares of paper into the grave, her lips moving
silently. These are her last curses. Barton Baynes
and his schoolmaster, Mr. Hacket, are standing by.</p>
<p>'<i>The scarlet sins of his youth are lying down with
him in the dust</i>,' whispers the master to his pupil as
they walk away together.</p>
<h3>V</h3>
<p>This is terrible enough--the thought of our sins
surrounding our deathbeds and lying down with us
in our graves--but the book contains something
more profound and terrible still!</p>
<p>For, in addition to the grave of Benjamin Grimshaw,
from which we have just turned sadly away,
there are two other graves in the book. The one
is a felon's grave--the grave of Amos Grimshaw.
And what sins are these that are lying down with
him in the dust? They are some of them his own;
and they are some of them his father's; and they
are some of them the sins of Roving Kate, the Silent
Woman. Yes, they are some of them the
woman's sins. For when Amos was but an impressionable
boy, Kate had supplied him with literature
by which she hoped to pollute and ruin him.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Out of the deathless hatred that she bore to the
father, she longed to destroy the son, body and
soul. She gave him tales that would inflame his
fancy and excite his baser instincts, tales that glorified
robbery, murder and villainy of every kind.
If Amos Grimshaw had been a good man's son,
and if ennobling influences had been brought to
bear upon him, he might have lived to old age
and gone down at last to an honored grave. But
his father's example was always before him, and
Kate's books did their dreadful work only too well.
He became a highway robber; he shot a stranger
on a lonely road. It came out in evidence that the
deed had been perpetrated under circumstances
identical with those described in one of the sensational
stories found in the Grimshaw barn--the
stories Kate had given him!</p>
<p>'It's the same with the books you read,' the
schoolmaster had said, when Bart sought from him
an explanation of the text in the sealed envelope;
'they go down into your bones and you can't get
them out.'</p>
<p>And Kate's books had gone down into Amos
Grimshaw's bones; and thus her sins and his
father's sins lay down in the dust of the felon's
grave and mingled with his own. No exposition of
Silas Wright's text could be more arresting or
alarming than that. My sins may overflow from
my grave and lie down in the dust with my children!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</SPAN></span></p>
<h3>VI</h3>
<p>And, on the very last page of <i>The Light in the
Clearing</i>, we have an even more striking presentment
of the same profound truth. For I said that,
in the book, there is yet one other grave. It is a
lonely grave up among the hills--the grave of the
stranger who was shot by Amos Grimshaw that
dark night; and this time it is old Kate who sits
weeping beside it. For who was the stranger murdered
upon the highway? It turns out to have
been <i>Kate's own son</i>!</p>
<p>'It is very sorrowful,' she moans. 'He was trying
to find me when he died!'</p>
<p>And so the murderer and the murdered were
step-brothers! They were both the sons of Benjamin Grimshaw!</p>
<p>And, in this grave up among the hills, there lie
down with poor murdered Enoch his own sins--whatever
they may have been--and his father's
sins--the sins that made him an outcast and a fugitive--and
his mother's sins, the sins of the only
being who loved him!</p>
<p>Yes, his mother's sins; for his mother's sins had
slain him. In her hatred of Benjamin Grimshaw,
she had moved Amos Grimshaw to become a murderer,
and he had murdered--<i>her own son!</i></p>
<p>'It is very sorrowful!' she moans.</p>
<p>It is indeed; sin is always sorrowful.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</SPAN></span></p>
<h3>VII</h3>
<p>'<i>Wherefore come now and let us reason together,
saith the Lord; though your sins be as scarlet, they
shall be as white as snow; though they be red like
crimson, they shall be as wool.</i>'</p>
<p>It is best to make an end of them, and to turn
from them, once and for all, that they lie down at
last neither with us nor with our children.</p>
<p style="page-break-before: always">
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />