# In the Shadow/Chapter 7
### CHAPTER VII
#### MIND AND MATTER

ACH! The inane popular delusion!" exclaimed Leyden as he slapped his riding boot with his crop. While waiting for Virginia, with whom he was to ride, he was talking with Giles, who was that morning to inspect some horses which Manning planned to send to Carolina. "Take a savage," continued Leyden, "of the imperfect civilization of a century, cover the nakedness of his body with a pair of well-cut breeches and the nakedness of his brain with a vocabulary and behold … a brother! Observe this negro, Dessalines, as he rode in here yesterday upon his man-eating stallion; such a spectacle! One does not need to look deep there to find the pagan … and speaking of the stallion, I understand that the brute nearly killed a groom the first time he was brought here. It is like a black to endanger the lives of his friends for the sake of indulging his vanity."
Giles looked troubled. "It seems to me that you are unfair to Dessalines, Dr. Leyden," he said, flushing like a schoolboy. "Dessalines has shown that he possesses a good mind."
"In what way?" asked Leyden quietly. "I think that I can predicate. In classics, in languages, in rhetoric, in debate—never by any chance in mathematics or anything requiring a complex cerebration. Am I not right? Yes?"
​"But he is a magnificent speaker," protested Giles.
"I do not doubt it. But did you ever pause to analyze what he said and see how much of the effect lay simply in his choice and delivery of well-sounding words? How much in the thought underlying? With his presence, striking personality, deep fund of sheer animal magnetism he could not fail to be impressive."
"But surely you admit that the negro is capable of high mental attainments if properly instructed? They have shown this in Liberia, in our West Indian colonies, in the States. Has it not been demonstrated beyond doubt that under the proper course of mental culture the African is capable of a high grade of mental attainment?"
"I do not think it has, Giles; personally, I do not believe that the negro possesses much mentality; the mulatto, ah, yes! One cannot fix a limit to his. But how many individuals of the negro race who have no white blood have achieved things? And as for the mulatto, he is a mongrel, and a mongrel will sometimes inherit from either side of the house alone. He might be physically negro and mentally white. One can predict nothing from the half-caste. But as far as the pure negro is concerned there is no race in the world who, considering their advantages and numbers, have achieved as little as he … ah, here is Mr. Moultrie; no doubt he will give us his views."
Manning had come out of the house as Leyden concluded; at the last words of the naturalist his face clouded.
"Negro question again?" he asked coldly. "Don't let me interrupt. I am biased; besides, I hate the topic, ​which is discussed a lot more than it is entitled to be. We have the worst of it in the States, and while everybody is ranting and gnashing his teeth the thing is quietly working out its own salvation."
Leyden nodded.
"I say," said Giles, "do you mind telling us how it is working out its salvation, Manning, or, if the subject is too distasteful——"
"By immorality, chiefly," answered Manning in a hard voice. "Take the State of Virginia, for example; once it was full of negroes; to-day a full-blooded negro is scarce, but there is no end of mixed breeds of every shade. The mulattoes are not a strong people; their inclination is to breed with whites, and so the race gets lighter and weaker and tends to run out."
"But I thought that it was just the other way," interrupted Giles, "that they were more apt to 'throw back' and breed blacks."
"That is the popular belief, but it is not justified by the result. One has only to go there to see how the full-blooded negro has faded out; and this is true, to a less extent, of others of the Southern States. To begin with the negroes were all full-blooded; to-day, whether through intermingling with whites or from changed geographical and climatic conditions I will not say, but every decade the type of full-blooded negro appears to be growing more rare."
"You are modifying your statement regarding immorality," said Giles.
"Possibly, but that factor undoubtedly enters into the case. To begin with, the laws of the Southern States forbid intermarriage; mulattresses, quadroons, and octo​roons are often very pretty and look down upon the blacker types, preferring a white lover to a black husband."
"In that case," said Giles slowly, "it seems to me that the laws of the State in this regard tend toward moral degradation. Why not legitimatize the intermarriage of whites and half-castes?"
"And get a yellow nation?" demanded Manning fiercely.
"But you just said that mulattoes preferred to mix with whites and in this way tended gradually to eliminate the negroid characteristics; it seems to me a lot better to have a community of legitimate and respectable mixed breeds than a race of bastards who are brought into the world morally, and, therefore, often physically handicapped from the very start. Don't you think so, Leyden?"
"Yes, I think the point is well taken. Morality should always prevail; nor do I think that sanctioning intermarriage between whites and those of mixed breed would in any wise threaten the color of your nation, Mr. Moultrie. Even in States where the intermarriage of blacks and whites is legalized, the commonwealth does not appear to be affected; there is no law compelling a white person to marry a black, and to my mind the person who wishes to do so isn't such a great distance removed from the black anyway. As far as the mixed-breed is concerned, did you ever realize, Mr. Moultrie, what a gratuitous insult you people of the South have paid your race by decreeing that an individual possessing a half or any fraction less of negro blood should be classed as a negro?"
​"Insult," cried Manning flushing angrily. "I see it just the other way."
"But does it not occur to you that such a decree is as good as admitting that a quarter of African blood is a stronger and more potent factor of the individual than three quarters of white? Don't you consider a white man a much more virile creature than a black? Upon my soul, the injustice dealt out for years upon years to the half- or three-quarter-caste is simply appalling. My remedy for an ink spot upon a light coat would be to wash it out as much as possible; not to pour ink over the whole garment. Why don't you wash out your mulatto race? Get it as white as you can by dilutions of white blood. Go ahead and legislate against blacks marrying whites if you like, but include with the whites all individuals having any white blood."
Leyden stopped speaking and there was a silence which lasted for several moments. Manning was shocked and angry and a trifle puzzled; Giles was calmly thoughtful. He turned to Leyden.
"Then how about the pure negro, Dr. Leyden?" he asked. "Suppose that he is kept black; in what does his salvation lie?"
"I believe," said Leyden slowly, "that the salvation of the pure negro is to be found in the two great civilizers of the world: religion and education."
Manning slightly raised his eyebrows; the expression did not escape the keen eyes of the naturalist.
"Do you disagree with me, Mr. Moultrie?" he asked, turning to Manning.
"I am afraid that I do. My own observations tend to make me doubt the existence of true religion among ​negroes. It seems to me that where it apparently exists it is in reality only a mixture of fantasy and superstition, and indulged in because it gratifies the negro craving for the emotional."
"I am sorry to hear you say that," said Leyden. "My own experience inclines me to a more optimistic view; I think that if you had ever had the opportunity of contrasting the results of the negro worship of a malign deity like Vaudoux with that of God, and His Son, Jesus Christ, you would appreciate what the latter worship does for the negro. Yet the former fills what you claim appeals to the negro in the latter, the indulgence of superstition, fantasy, and the emotions."
"Then you believe that the Christian religion has a practical uplifting influence upon the race?"
"Mr. Moultrie," said Leyden earnestly, "I have lived for the most of my active life among savage and primitive people and I can honestly say that I have never known the Christian religion to fail to uplift and enlighten any human being who wished to accept it. Enforced Christianity has, of course, like all compulsory religions, been followed by some terrible results. In the negro we find a ready acceptance of the doctrines of Christianity, and it is my belief that this, combined with the education which he is now offered in many parts of the world, will in time result in his salvation … but it will take many years."
"And in the meantime?" asked Manning.
"In the meantime he must be held as well as led by a strong and steady hand. My word." Leyden wheeled suddenly to Manning and there was a note of fierce impatience in his voice. "I hope you will pardon me for ​saying so, Mr. Moultrie, but for a country which has had as much experience of the negro as yours has, it seems to me that about as much intelligence has been shown in handling the problem as … as … I will spare you the metaphor. First you whack him through slavery; then you liberate him, and encourage him to ride his old master; then you give him a vote in one part of the country and take it away from him in another; though why Uncle Sam should give a vote to an ignorant, low-grade, semicivilized son of a black slave and deny it to his own highly educated and responsible white daughters is more than I can see; then you want to hug him, to elect him to office, to deport him, to burn him at the stake, all in one breath. Why don't you draw up an armistice with our black brother, find out what the nation really does want to do with him, and then go ahead and do it. Civilize your backwoods and half-savage white districts first, and then go to work and civilize your negro."
Leyden's even voice stopped abruptly, when he listened.
"I hear Miss Moultrie coming; she dislikes the topic. I hope that you will be successful in your search for thoroughbreds; your Carolina horses, as I remember them, are already very good, however."
Virginia joined them at this moment and Giles rang for the horses.
"Which way?" asked Leyden, as he fell in at the right of Virginia.
"River road." She slacked her snaffle and they cantered down the broad, straight avenue, swung sharply around the north end of the water garden, through the oak grove next, and so into the highway.
​"Ach! The glorious English June," cried Leyden, filling his deep lungs with the fragrant air, "… when it is glorious. Did you ever observe, Miss Moultrie, how very much drizzle is required to make us properly appreciate the sunshine?"
"I should think that you would rather appreciate the drizzle, Dr. Leyden. You must have rather too much sun in your profession."
"Better too much of anything than not enough. But then I like it all; that is the beauty of being a student of natural sciences. One can put one's discomforts on a glass slide and tease them to pieces with a needle. Once when I had a sharp attack of fever I derived the greatest diversion from studying the plasmodia in my blood under the microscope."
"I fancy that you are very seldom ill," replied Virginia. She glanced critically at the well-knit figure and cleanly chiseled features, tanned with the chromic yellow which comes of the reeking blaze of the equator. "I do not think that I ever saw a man who had lived so much in the tropics who appeared in such perfect health; yet Sir Henry tells me that you are usually treating a fever."
Leyden laughed. "It is true that I had a chill last night," he said. "I am but just back from the Orinoco, which is more than most men could say had they been where I have. The man best fitted for my work is not he who appears to be immune, but the one who is subject to light attacks. The other man is apt to die quickly and without warning. I receive my caution with a word of thanks and profit by it; also, being a botanist and having a knowledge of therapeutics, there are few places where ​disease exists in which I cannot find my antidote. I wander among my enemies, recognizing my friends; where we find the one there is usually the other."
"Poison and antidote?"
"Yes, friend and enemy."
"One is fortunate to know them apart," said Virginia.
"You would never be puzzled in that way," answered Leyden. "I have an idea that you would be more susceptible to a rough impulse than to a rough speech." Virginia felt as if his eyes were upon her, but as she glanced at him quickly she was surprised to find that he was buttoning a glove.
"You flatter my astuteness," she answered, nettled.
"You say that because you thought that I was looking at you when my eyes were elsewhere? No, my mind was watching you, not my eyes; it was that which you felt."
"You are uncanny!" exclaimed Virginia. Leyden smiled. "Or else," she continued, "you are only unconventional; intelligently unconventional, unlike most eccentriques who are stupidly so. I fancy that your mind wears its hair long and drinks warm, fresh, cowy milk for breakfast!"
Leyden laughed outright. "No, I am nothing as interesting as that; I am natural; from having lived much with Nature I employ certain useful simplicities of expression and impression first scorned and then forgotten by an advanced civilization. I know that you are suffering from a rough impression at the present moment; you are only semiconscious of it; possibly you ascribe it to me, whereas, it is in reality because Count Dessalines is not ​far ahead of us and is riding slowly. I will not tell you how I know this; you shall determine it for yourself."
Virginia lifted her head suddenly; Leyden, watching her, saw her quick intake of breath. She began to put her separate keen senses to work. "A puma," thought Leyden, "… uneasy … disturbed … disquieted." Virginia had been so unawares. Her long hazel eyes narrowed, the delicate nostrils dilated, lips parted, head slightly bent as her sensitive ears quickened. "Ach! what a woman! … what a woman!" thought Leyden, watching her, for at this moment Virginia was beautiful with a tense, lithe, glowing beauty, sensuous in its strong, virile, keen-sensed aliveness, and Leyden was too completely masculine not to feel its influence. The girl's figure, full, strong, supple, matchless in curving outline reminded him of the lithe body of a puma.
Suddenly she laughed. "I have it … I know!" And as she turned to him her manner became suddenly diffident; a school child before its master; prepared, but shy because of this preparation; aquiver through fear lest it fail to justify its knowledge.
"How many senses?" demanded Leyden, in the curt tone of a pedagogue.
"Two."
"Not enough. Which two?"
"Sight and smell."
"The two most infallible," admitted Leyden. "One could hardly have expected that you would catch the sound which I did. What did you get?"
"Count Dessalines uses that French scent, Fleur Tropicale."
​"So! this is not difficult."
"And here are the tracks of a horse without a carriage, for part of the time he is walking on the firm sod where he would put a carriage wheel in the ditch." She looked at the naturalist expectantly.
"And is that all?" asked Leyden.
"Yes … that is …."
"It is not enough. You have seen the horse twice and have not noticed the peculiar manner in which he is shod." Leyden's note- was reproving. "This might be any equestrian; myself, I told by a musical note."
Again Virginia laughed, in the eager excited way habitual to her when intensely interested.
"I know! I know! The ring of that heavy silver Spanish bit! I noticed it yesterday; it is like a bell. It must have been that which I heard some time ago when we were passing through the oak grove."
"It was there that I heard it for the first time," said Leyden. "I have a rather unusually accurate musical ear; when Dessalines rode in yesterday to leave you his monograph 'On the Regeneration of a Race,' he had a little difficulty with his horse … By the way, does it not strike you as a trifle odd that the ringing note of that bit should have carried so far to-day; farther even than the sound of the horse's tread, which I much doubt that you heard?"
Virginia frowned and her piquant face became stern. "I know," she answered. "He must have struck the horse across the nose with his crop."
Again Leyden threw her a swift admiring glance. "You are unusual, Miss Moultrie; if you will permit me to say so. I see these things and understand them as ​the result of years of practice; with me, keen observation is a craft developed through necessity and one upon which my livelihood and my life itself have been dependent. Your faculties are most perceptive and receptive."
"Little things impress me," said Virginia, "only if characteristic. Consequently I save only what I need, and let the rest go. The first time that Count Dessalines called he struck his horse in that way, across the muzzle, and made the bit ring, and the sound dinned in my ears long after he had gone; that and the expression of his face. One could not blame him for striking the horse," she pursued defendingly; "it had just tried to kill the groom … and yet his action shocked me; I think because one felt that he rather relished the chastisement; there was that look in his face … and yet—" the words came faster and Leyden's wide vision perceived the heaving of her bosom, "such strength!— Ah, such strength! Such magnificent brute force … one felt that it was less the discipline of master to brute than the mastery of the stronger brute. Do you understand?" Words and breath were both coming faster. "It was not as if Dessalines controlled the animal by virtue of superior intelligence and higher mentality, but simply that he was the stronger animal."
"Which is about the proper proportion," assented Leyden.
"Yes, and as a result his action while shocking and merciless did not impress one as cruel."
"Because it was so close to the ground."
"Yes, a tiger leaping upon a buck; one fierce animal, with claws, rending another which has only hoofs. ​If a white man had done that thing one would have arrested him, no matter how dangerous the horse; with Dessalines … please tell me, Dr. Leyden, why this race has not achieved great things? The force, the power of brain and body, and the compelling weight of such a personality! I do not see how other men can resist can refuse to obey the will projection of such a being; he is terrifying to me yet, I will admit, fascinating and and do you know I think that if he were to say to me, suddenly, 'bring me that footstool' …"
"You think nothing of the sort!" interrupted Leyden sternly. Virginia's eyes had assumed peculiar rapt expression, pupils dilated and focused beyond the point upon which the vision rested, voice of a peculiar flat tone; semi-autohypnosis. At the naturalist's brusque note she started, looked puzzled, vexed, then laughed nervously.
"What was I saying? You are an odd man, Dr. Leyden; one unclothes one's mind in your presence with a shocking lack of modesty. Speaking of Dessalines, there he is ahead of us."
"Yes, that is Dessalines; your genius! And now, for your soul's good, watch and I will show you something. You speak of his dominant force; it is inversely proportional to what he feels to be the subjugation of another mind to his; it is this which makes people of his race so imposing to those whom they feel to be ignorant of their limitations. I will demonstrate this for you now; perhaps he may have read me too deeply, but I think not. You will observe, Miss Moultrie …" the curt voice of the pedagogue had returned; the tone of the naturalist was that of a clinical chief exhibiting an illus​trative case before a class of students, "this man's manner after I have spoken will be assertive; it may even be arrogant when he feels me submissive, but as he feels a gathering weight opposed to this will projection of his which you pretend to think so irresistible, you will see a change … ach! he sees us."
Dessalines had drawn to the side of the road and was awaiting their approach. The great black stallion, neck arched, tail streaming, stood like a statue, a statue of heroic proportions. Virginia's nervousness was in some subtle way communicated to her mount, which began to caracole restlessly.
Dessalines removed his hat with a flourish; Virginia could feel the atmosphere charged with the counter-currents of the adverse influences about to engage. The personality of Dessalines, ultraphysical, material, loomed sinister. The huge stature, shocking strength, compelling voice, hypnotizing eyes which were clear and lustrous and not of the chocolate shade usual in his race, but of an odd tone of color, a gun metal in tint and sheen; all gathered ominous as a cyclone cloud, appalling as it hovered above an entity as little flamboyant as the clear, concise, concentrated, and thoroughly contained personality of Leyden.
Dessalines was upon the left; the road being narrow at this point brought Virginia close to him. He had ridden his great stallion twice daily since coming to the locality, and the animal was by this time thoroughly cowed. Virginia noticed that bits and reins were flecked with bloody foam; the stallion stood still as a listening deer, but the wildness of the dark eye and the quiver of the fine nostrils told of the pressure within.
​"Good morning, Miss Moultrie," rumbled the deep voice. "Good morning, Dr. Leyden."
"Good morning, Count Dessalines," replied Virginia, and drew rein, for it seemed to her scarcely fitting to pass without a few words of greeting a man who had saved her life and that of her fiancé.
Leyden had replied to Dessalines' greeting, and now, seeing Virginia about to halt, remarked in an oddly timid voice:
"Is that brute of yours quite safe, Comte Dessalines? Of course we appreciate your mastery of him, but is it not dangerous for us to come near?" The inflection, manner, voice was that of one physically afraid; Virginia glanced at the Hollander in quick surprise. Leyden's expression was such as one would expect to accompany the words; it showed doubt, uncertainty, fear. Virginia felt the blood in her cheeks; she could not understand it; all was at variance with the character with which she had endowed him.
Dessalines' great voice rolled out in striking contrast; it carried an accent a trifle blatant.
"You need have no fear; the animal knows his master." He struck the great neck a resounding slap and Virginia saw a fine quiver ripple the silken surface of the animal from ears to tail. "For a week the little rascal and I have been fighting it out, and once or twice I will confess that my life has been in danger, but now … ah, now he is conquered, and he knows it, the naughty fellow!" Again the massive hand smote the thick neck and again the fine shudder rippled the whole tense fabric of the animal. Then Leyden spoke.
"There is probably not another man in England who ​could have conquered him, Comte Dessalines. He appears thoroughly subdued, but eh—eh—eh," the voice grew thin, "I confess to a nervousness. I am afraid to have Miss Moultrie venture so close to him. …" He laid his hand upon Virginia's bridle-rein and drew her horse's head to one side.
"Please do not do that!" said Virginia a trifle sharply. She was vexed, disappointed, chagrined. "Count Dessalines can control his horse, I am quite sure."
"Your fears are quite without foundation, Dr. Leyden," said Dessalines. His voice was louder—contained a peremptory note. "You will permit me to observe that if there was the slightest danger to Miss Moultrie or yourself I would hardly remain here to discuss it. In fact, Miss Moultrie," he continued, and the rough note in his voice smoothed with the soft undulation of a wave motion as it attains deep water, "I am so confident of my control of this brute that I shall even venture to ask your permission to join you. If Dr. Leyden is nervous perhaps he would be more comfortable to ride a trifle in advance." He turned to Leyden with a bland, assured smile.
And then there came a surprise. Virginia's horse, restive, nervous, perhaps, at the presence of its forbidding neighbors, had been tossing and backing and side-stepping eager to be away; Virginia, without being aware of it, had gradually edged close to Dessalines. It was at this point that Leyden laid aside his mask. Reining back sharply he passed behind Virginia and thrust his horse directly between her and Dessalines, slightly crowding the Haytian into the ditch.
​"You amaze me, Comte Dessalines," said Leyden sternly. "In the first place permit me to remind you that I am at present acting as Miss Moultrie's escort and that I am responsible for her safety; in the second place I beg to inform you that whatever the custom may be in Hayti, in England it is not good form to interrupt the previously arranged engagement of a lady and gentleman. This has nothing to do with it however; I consider your presence upon that animal a menace to the safety of Miss Moultrie and have therefore the honor to wish you good day."
Dessalines, through the bland and unctuous assurance of whose voice the keen-edged words of Leyden had cut like a knife through tallow, stared in bewilderment; perhaps generations of heredity were against him; perhaps his subjective centers mirrored ancient impulses where such words were followed by the bite of a lead-tipped lash; perhaps the shallower intellect was groping for a missile in the mud beneath; at all events he was first at a loss, and then, before he could recover or rally his dignity in its rout, the two-edged voice was at him again and he drew back blinking, almost with the turn of the head which one sees in an ox lashed across the face by a switch in the hand of the farmer boy … and all the while Leyden was thrusting forward, a rampart between the African and the white maiden with the shocked hazel eyes, the pale face, and the grand scale of impulses which began below those of Dessalines and terminated in high overtones of these same far above the reach even of the naturalist.
At the first note of the cold, authoritative voice the girl's heart had seemed to pause, to flutter, and then to ​beat with a wild excitement. She realized with a throb of awe that Leyden had been quietly demonstrating his theory in the illustration of which he was making use of this appalling individual, as a painting master might twist the limbs of a lay figure.
"I do not wish to hurt your feelings, Comte Dessalines," said Leyden, more kindly, and this very kindness was the effervescence of his first brusquerie, "but I will take no chances. Now wheel that brute to one side, if you please. There, do you see, he is going bad already." For the plumy tail had begun to switch, the nostrils to evert, and the little ears were laid flat to the high crest. One saw that the beast was about to strike, in fact would have struck, but at that instant Leyden emitted a peculiar growling sound at which the horse sprang back and stood quivering.
Dessalines began to stammer, to apologize, to half heartedly attempt to assert himself, saying nothing which was consistent; the man was a medley of disjointed phrases. Suddenly Leyden threw back his head.
"Holà! mon cher Comte," he cried gaily, and burst into a torrent of odd-sounding patois, so swift and voluble and dialectic that Virginia, to whom the French was like a mother tongue, was unable to follow it.
Dessalines stared. Dessalines began to grin. Leyden threw out both hands, shrugged, pattered, jabbered. Dessalines began to laugh with a great expanse of white teeth. Leyden laughed, Leyden mimicked, Leyden made a grimace. Dessalines laughed heartily, roared, became convulsed, rocked back and forth in the saddle, almost fell, in fact one could see that he longed to jump down and roll upon the ground, and at this perihelion of his ​mirth Leyden nodded to Virginia and clicked to the horses.
"Eh bien, chèr Comte!" he called over his shoulder, "… au revoir!"
"Au revoir, mon chèr docteur … au revoir, camarade! Oh … oh … ha-ha-ha- …" and then as an afterthought, "Au revoir, mademoiselle!" and so they parted.
For a furlong they rode in silence; Virginia pale, mute, Leyden smiling to himself.
"If I did not like you," said Virginia, at length, "and if I did not think that you liked me, I should be very much afraid of you. There was something positively uncanny in the manner in which you put that great primitive intellect through its tricks."
"Ach! It was as I told you; first I encouraged him and he rode across me rough shod; then I snubbed him and he cowed; the tactics are the same which one employs with a wet Newfoundland; next I am kind, and he licks my hand; then I play with him, and he romps and rolls and runs after the stick and forgets that he was cuffed. Do you not find, …" he glanced at her narrowly, "that the spectacle lessens your awe of the wild animal?"
"But he is just as strong as ever," replied Virginia. "He did strongly what you made him want to do. He is just as imposing as ever like his horse, if he is subdued. It is his great, blind, primitive strength which is impressive. I doubt if he has any soul."
Leyden nodded, looked thoughtful, disappointed. For perhaps a mile they rode in silence, each absorbed—Virginia in herself, Leyden in Virginia.
​"But the horse?" asked Virginia abruptly. "What was that noise? The noise which frightened the horse?"
"Ach!" said Leyden; "that was only the growl of a timber wolf. You see the horse has its hereditary instincts as well as the rider."