Whether by intention, or, as is more likely, by the perfectly natural and spontaneous working of his nature, he speedily made it plain to me that our relation, our acquaintance, had progressed to a stage more friendly and confidential. He did not reveal this by imparting any confidence to me; far from it; it was his silence that indicated the ease he had come to feel in my company. Upon our last memorable interview he had embarked at once upon a hasty yet evidently predetermined course of talk, because he feared that I might touch upon subjects which he wished excluded from all discussion between us; to-day he embarked upon nothing, made no conventional effort of any sort, but walked beside me, content with my mere society; if it should happen that either of us found a thought worth expressing aloud, good! and if this should not happen, why, good also! And so we walked mutely and agreeably together for a long while. The thought which was growing clear in my mind, and which was decidedly worthy of expression, was also unluckily one which his new reliance upon my discretion completely forbade my uttering in even the most shadowy manner; but it was a conviction which Miss Josephine St. Michael should have been quick to force upon him for his good. Quite apart from selfish reasons, he had no right to marry a girl whom he had ceased to care for. The code which held a "gentleman" to his plighted troth in such a case did more injury to the "lady" than any "jilting" could possibly do. Never until now had I thought this out so lucidly, and I was determined that time and my own tact should assuredly help me find a way to say it to him, if he continued in his present course.
"Daddy Ben says you can't be a real Northerner."
This was his first observation, and I think that we must have walked a mile before he made it.
"Because I pounded a negro? Of course, he retains your Southern ante-bellum mythical notion of Northerners — all of us willing to have them marry our sisters. Well, there's a lady at our boarding-house who says you are a real gambler."
The impish look came curling round his lips, but for a moment only, and it was gone.
"That shook Daddy Ben up a good deal."
"Having his grandson do it, do you mean?"
"Oh, he's used to his grandson! Grandsons in that race might just as well be dogs for all they know or care about their progenitors. Yet Daddy Ben spent his savings on educating Charles Cotesworth and two more — but not one of them will give the old man a house to-day. If ever I have a home—" John stopped himself, and our silence was no longer easy; our unspoken thoughts looked out of our eyes so that they could not meet. Yet no one, unless directly invited by him, had the right to say to hint what I was thinking, except some near relative. Therefore, to relieve this silence which had ceased to be agreeable, I talked about Daddy Ben and his grandsons, and negro voting, and the huge lie of "equality" which our lips vociferate and our lives daily disprove. This took us comfortably away from weddings and cakes into the subject of lynching, my violent condemnation of which surprised him; for our discussion had led us over a wide field, and one fertile in well-known disputes of the evergreen sort, conducted by the North mostly with more theory than experience, and by the South mostly with more heat than light; whereas, between John and me, I may say that our amiability was surpassed only by our intelligence! Each allowed for the other's standpoint, and both met in many views: he would have voted against the last national Democratic ticket but for the Republican upholding of negro equality, while I assured him that such stupid and criminal upholding was on the wane. He informed me that he did not believe the pure blooded African would ever be capable of taking the intellectual side of the white man's civilization, and I informed him that we must patiently face this probability, and teach the African whatever he could profitably learn and no more; and each of us agreed with the other. I think that we were at one, save for the fact that I was, after all, a Northerner — and that is a blemish which nobody in Kings Port can quite get over. John, therefore, was unprepared for my wholesale denunciation of lynching.
"With your clear view of the negro," he explained.
"My dear man, it's my clear view of the white! It's the white, the American citizen, the 'hope of humanity,' as he enjoys being called, who, after our English-speaking race has abolished public executions, degenerates back to the Stone Age. It's upon him that lynching works the true injury."
"They're nothing but animals," he muttered.
"Would you treat an animal in that way?" I inquired.
He persisted. "You'd do it yourself if you had to suffer from them."
"Very probably. Is that an answer? What I'd never do would be to make a show, an entertainment, a circus, out of it, run excursion trains to see it — come, should you like your sister to buy tickets for a lynching?"
This brought him up rather short. "I should never take part myself," he presently stated, "unless it were immediate personal vengeance."
"Few brothers or husbands would blame you," I returned. "It would be hard to wait for the law. But let no community which treats it as a public spectacle presume to call itself civilized."
He gave a perplexed smile, shaking his head over it. "Sometimes I think civilization costs—"
"Civilization costs all you've got!" I cried.
"More than I've got!" he declared. "I'm mortal tired of civilization."
"Ah, yes! What male creature is not? And neither of us will live quite long enough to see the smash-up of our own."
"Aren't you sometimes inconsistent?" he inquired, laughing.
"I hope so," I returned. "Consistency is a form of death. The dead are the only perfectly consistent people."
"And sometimes you sound like a Socialist," he pursued, still laughing.
"Never!" I shouted. "Don't class me with those untrained puppies of thought. And you'll generally observe," I added, "that the more nobly a Socialist vaporizes about the rights of humanity, the more wives and children he has abandoned penniless along the trail of his life."
He was livelier than ever at this. "What date have you fixed for the smash-up of our present civilization?"
"Why fix dates? Is it not diversion enough to watch, and step handsomely through one's own part, with always a good sleeve to laugh in?"
Pensiveness returned upon him. "I shall be able to step through my own part, I think." He paused, and I was wondering secretly, "Does that include the wedding?" when he continued: "What's there to laugh at?"
"Why, our imperishable selves! For instance: we swear by universal suffrage. Well, sows' ears are an invaluable thing in their place, on the head of the animal; but send them to make your laws, and what happens? Bribery, naturally. The silk purse buys the sow's ear. We swear by Christianity, but dishonesty is our present religion. That little phrase 'In God We Trust' is about as true as the silver dollar it's stamped on — worth some thirty-nine cents. We get awfully serious about whether or no good can come of evil, when every sky-scraping thief of finance is helping hospitals with one hand while the other's in my pocket; and good and evil attend each other, lead to each other, are such Siamese twins that if separated they would both die. We make phrases about peace, pity, and brotherhood, while every nation stands prepared for shipwreck and for the sinking plank to which two are clinging and the stronger pushes the weaker into the flood and thus floats safe. Why, the old apple of wisdom, which Adam and Eve swallowed and thus lost their innocence, was a gentle nursery drug compared with the new apple of competition, which, as soon as chewed, instantly transforms the heart into a second brain. But why worry, when nothing is final? Haven't you and I, for instance, lamented the present rottenness of smart society? Why, when kings by the name of George sat on the throne of England, society was just as drunken, just as dissolute! Then a decent queen came, and society behaved itself; and now, here we come round again to the Georges, only with the name changed! There's nothing final. So, when things are as you don't like them, remember that and bear them; and when they're as you do like them, remember it and make the most of them — and keep a good sleeve handy!"