The Home-Coming of a Dead Man
Meanwhile the body of the murdered man--noble countenance peaceful now
after twenty-five years of adventure--had been traveling eastward to its
final resting place. The body of William F. Cummins came home in
state--home at last, where the familiar caw of crow and tinkle of
cow-bell might almost conjure the dead back to life again. Three years
before, at the time of the great Centennial, when, in the full vigor of
manhood, Will Cummins had visited his native town, no sounds had so
stirred old memories of fields and mountains as those homely sounds of
crow and cow-bell.
Then neighbors had flocked about the bold Californian, eager to press
his hand and to look into his fearless eyes. Now, robbed and murdered,
he came home again, life's journey ended. The quiet village was
appalled, and shaken with anger. Friends and neighbors flocked to the
funeral--indignant youths, solemn old men and women. True, the younger
generation had hardly known of the Californian's existence. To them he
seemed to have come out of the Sierras like a Rip Van Winkle, who slept
soundly on, asking no questions. But to the old men he had died a youth,
full of promise. They remembered well the eager buoyancy with which he
and his comrades had set out for the gold fields. Middle-aged men and
women remembered his school days in Reedsville, when he was one of them,
when they were all healthy, merry boys and girls together.
The funeral over, and the Californian safely laid in his native soil on
the hillside, men gathered in groups on the corners of the village
street, or stepped into the bank to look at the six-shooter which had
failed their friend in his hour of need. The local minister, gazing upon
the dead man's revolver, was heard to remark:
"They that take the sword shall perish with the sword."
But the bystanders would not endure the doctrine. Their Anglo-Saxon
blood recoiled. And a former Californian, who was an old friend of
Cummins, stepped forward and said:
"Mr. Lamb, Will Cummins was not afraid to perish with the sword. And, if
he could have drawn that revolver, there would have been two dead
robbers. This doctrine of non-resistance is wrong, dead wrong. We proved
that in California, just as you people proved it here in the Civil War.
Will Cummins was not afraid to defend his rights."
"But," replied the minister, who in spite of his name seemed eager for
the combat, "the Civil War was a national crime. Think of the hundreds
of thousands of young men, North and South, who perished."
"Yes, Mr. Lamb, the war _was_ a crime. And Jeff Davis and the other
criminals ought to have been hanged, just as those stage-robbers ought
to be."
"Don't you see, my friend," replied the minister, "that violence breeds
violence?"
"Then," rather scornfully, "you think Will Cummins did wrong to defend
his property?"
"He would have been alive to-day if he hadn't."
"But that's not the point. Will Cummins died for a principle. He
believed in self-defense, and was not afraid to risk his life."
"Of course," said the minister, "I admit that he was a brave man. But
Christ said, 'if any man take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak
also'--'turn the other cheek'--'resist not evil'--'they that take the
sword shall perish with the sword.'"
"Well," said the Californian, "I don't dispute the fact that people who
carry weapons are likely to get killed. What I say is, I admire a man
who is not afraid of getting killed when he knows he's right. It may be
just as honorable to perish with the sword as to be crucified."
This statement, savoring of the heresy that was introduced into American
thought both by soldiers returning from the Civil War and by men
returning from the lawless life of the West, rather shocked the
minister, who was a good and sincere man. But he only said:
"Surely, you are a Christian?"
"Well," replied the Californian, "I don't know. If Jesus Christ said
self-defense is wrong, then He was mistaken."
Here the argument ended. But the theme is a fruitful one; and every
thoughtful man and woman in Reedsville was bound to consider it. Dead
men tell no tales and make no arguments. Will Cummins slept peacefully
on. But the facts of the case were too plain to be ignored; and the
Californian's doubt of Christ's infallibility was widely discussed.
It was indeed a great issue, involving the fundamental principles of
Christianity. A brave man, who is not a scoffer, attacks the doctrine of
non-resistance, and lays down his life for the faith that is in him. A
martyr, then. Martyrdom in itself cannot establish a principle; but we
respect martyrdom. Turn the argument around: the martyrdom of Christ did
not establish the correctness of His teaching.
But this leads to a further question, namely, the nature of Christ--was
Christ human or divine? We may honestly say He was both; for if ever man
was inspired He was. But He might have made mistakes, as other inspired
teachers have done. And what did He really teach? Not one word of
Scripture was written by His hand. The spirit of Christ--this is the
important thing. The letter killeth, the spirit giveth life. Did He not
caution us to look not to Himself but to God? "Why callest thou me good?
One there is who is good, even God" ... "Not those who say, 'Lord,
Lord,' but those who do the will of My Father which is in heaven."
Self-defense is a duty which civilized man owes to civilization. Will
you tell me that the hundreds of thousands of Armenians who, making no
resistance, have perished like sheep at the hands of the Turks, were
better men than the four thousand who fled to the mountains and fought
off their persecutors till help arrived? Read of the heroic defense,
when for fifty-three days the men of that gallant band, with a few
rifles, saved their women and children from worse than death. I say
these men performed a duty to God and man--to the Turk himself, into
whose black heart they shot more virtue and honesty than ever were
implanted by the hundreds of thousands who died like sheep.
Civilized man must maintain himself, else the world will relapse into
barbarism. To perish with the sword in defense of home and friends may
be a sacred duty. If I have any quarrel with the Californians it is not
with their courage and daring. These were exemplary. And if it is right
to defend one's life, it is right to defend one's property, by means of
which life is supported.
But the dead men sleep soundly there on the hill, unmindful of praise or
blame, and old man Palmer, himself in a pauper's grave by the Middle
Yuba, robbed in his turn, and by a trusted friend, tells no tales, for
he sleeps serenely.