Iola Leroy by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper (books you need to read .txt) 📕

It preserves old truths, even if it is somewhat slow in embracing new ideas. It has its social as well as its spiritual side. Society is woman’s realm. The majority of church members are women, who are said to be the aristocratic element of our country. I fear that one of the last strongholds of this racial prejudice will be found beneath the shadow of some of our churches. I think, on account of this social question, that large bodies of Christian temperance women and other reformers, in trying to reach the colored people even for their own good, will be quicker to form separate associations than our National Grand Army, whose ranks are open to black and white, liberals and conservatives, saints and agnostics. But, Iola, we have drifted far away from the question. No one has a right to interfere with our marriage if we do not infringe on the rights of others.”

“Doctor,” she replied, gently, “I feel that our paths must diverge. My lifework is planned. I intend spending my future among the colored people of the South.”

“My dear friend,” he replied, anxiously, “I am afraid that you are destined to sad disappointment. When the novelty wears off you will be disillusioned, and, I fear, when the time comes that you can no longer serve them they will forget your services and remember only your failings.”

“But, Doctor, they need me; and I am sure when I taught among them they were very grateful for my services.”

“I think,” he replied, “these people are more thankful than grateful.”

“I do not think so; and if I did it would not hinder me from doing all in my power to help them. I do not expect all the finest traits of character to spring from the hotbeds of slavery and caste. What matters it if they do forget the singer, so they don’t forget the song? No, Doctor, I don’t think that I could best serve my race by forsaking them and marrying you.”

“Iola,” he exclaimed, passionately, “if you love your race, as you call it, work for it, live for it, suffer for it, and, if need be, die for it; but don’t marry for it. Your education has unfitted you for social life among them.”

“It was,” replied Iola, “through their unrequited toil that I was educated, while they were compelled to live in ignorance. I am indebted to them for the power I have to serve them. I wish other Southern women felt as I do. I think they could do so much to help the colored people at their doors if they would look at their opportunities in the light of the face of Jesus Christ. Nor am I wholly unselfish in allying myself with the colored people. All the rest of my family have done so. My dear grandmother is one of the excellent of the earth, and we all love her too much to ignore our relationship with her. I did not choose my lot in life, and the simplest thing I can do is to accept the situation and do the best I can.”

“And is this your settled purpose?” he asked, sadly.

“It is, Doctor,” she replied, tenderly but firmly. “I see no other. I must serve the race which needs me most.”

“Perhaps you are right,” he replied; “but I cannot help feeling sad that our paths, which met so pleasantly, should diverge so painfully. And yet, not only the freedmen, but the whole country, need such helpful, self-sacrificing teachers as you will prove; and if earnest prayers and holy wishes can brighten your path, your lines will fall in the pleasantest places.”

As he rose to go, sympathy, love, and admiration were blended in the parting look he gave her; but he felt it was useless to attempt to divert her from her purpose. He knew that for the true reconstruction of the country something more was needed than bayonets and bullets, or the schemes of selfish politicians or plotting demagogues. He knew that the South needed the surrender of the best brain and heart of the country to build, above the wastes of war, more stately temples of thought and action.

XXVIII Dr. Latrobe’s Mistake

On the morning previous to their departure for their respective homes, Dr. Gresham met Dr. Latrobe in the parlor of the Concordia.

“How,” asked Dr. Gresham, “did you like Dr. Latimer’s paper?”

“Very much, indeed. It was excellent. He is a very talented young man. He sits next to me at lunch and I have conversed with him several times. He is very genial and attractive, only he seems to be rather cranky on the negro question. I hope if he comes South that he will not make the mistake of mixing up with the negroes. It would be throwing away his influence and ruining his prospects. He seems to be well versed in science and literature and would make a very delightful accession to our social life.”

“I think,” replied Dr. Gresham, “that he is an honor to our profession. He is one of the finest specimens of our young manhood.”

Just then Dr. Latimer entered the room. Dr. Latrobe arose and, greeting him cordially, said: “I was delighted with your paper; it was full of thought and suggestion.”

“Thank you,” answered Dr. Latimer, “it was my aim to make it so.”

“And you succeeded admirably,” replied Dr. Latrobe. “I could not help thinking how much we owe to heredity and environment.”

“Yes,” said Dr. Gresham. “Continental Europe yearly sends to our shores subjects to be developed into citizens. Emancipation has given us millions of new citizens, and to them our influence and example should be a blessing and not a curse.”

“Well,” said Dr. Latimer, “I intend to go South, and help those who so much need helpers from their own ranks.”

“I hope,” answered Dr. Latrobe, “that if you go South you will only sustain business relations with the negroes, and not commit the folly of equalizing yourself with them.”

“Why not?” asked Dr. Latimer, steadily looking him in the eye.

“Because in equalizing yourself with them you