The God-Seeker
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The ·God-Seeker \SINCLAIR LEWIS POPULAR LIBRARY · N ElV YORK All POPULAR LIBRARY books are carefully selected by the POPULAR LIBRARY Editorial Bq_ard and represent titles by tbe world's greatest autbors. POPULAR LIBRARY EDITION Copyright, 1949, by Sinclair Lewis Published by arrangement with Random House, Inc. Random House edition published in March, 1949 First printing: Dece·mber, 1948 Publisbed simultaneously in Toronto, Canada, by Random House of Canada, Limited, 1949 This book bas appeared in Dutch, British, Danish, Italian, South American, Japanese, Austrian, Hungarian and Swiss (German) editions. DEDICATION: To the pastor of the indestructible chapel on Hesnu Street, with the hope that he will recover from his long confining illness. l'R.INTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA All rights reser•ved under lnternatioual and Pan-American Copy rigbt Coll'l!e1ltiom. The God-Seeker Foreword Although the Gadds, the Lanarks, Rip Tattam and the people of Bois des Morts and rhe Berkshire Hills in rhis novel are all ficririous, Charles -Finney and mosr of rile Minnesota characters are historical. Some of rhen:t, particularly rhe Pond brothers, Edward Duffield Neill and Joseph Renshaw Brown, were truly grear men who have been forgotten by a genera tion which is playfully diverting irself with rhe newesr impor tations in Marxian guilt and neo-orrhodo'\-Fr�udi:m-Calvinist sense of1 sin. Joe Brown would have laughed. I am in debt ro rhe writings of Charles A. Easrm:m, James W. Lynd, Samuel Pond and others on rhe Sioux Indi:ms, and to rhe staff of rhe Minnesota Historical Society, especially ro Richard Sackett, for guiding me through rhe riches of thar institution, which was cannilv founded in 1849 ro record state historv before there '\\"·'S any State or much of an�' histor�·· s. L. 1 Night in the dark New England hills, night and the winter stillness. Bringing the fugitive home to the meager farm and safety from the driving terror. Deep under the hay, wrapped in a crazy-quilt, Aaron cheerfully repeated Hay-sleigh, Hay-sleigh, in tune to the horses' hoofs on the frozen road, while the runners cut through the thin snow and grated on sand. He was seven years old then, the son of U riel Gadd, a righteous man and cold, farmer and Calvinist deacon in the northern Berkshire hills. He peered reverently at his father's shoulders, level and rigid against the star-map, and at the blot that was Uriel's old sealskin cap, worn shiny. The sleigh jolted off the road and stopped beside a lone bam, quite dark. There were no words. A foot crunched in the snow by the barn, and an undistinguishable figure clam bered into the sleigh, burrowed down beside Aaron. The ' horses turned quickly, almost upsetting the rig, and were yanked back on the road, whip-touched into trotting quickly. The bundled figure down beside Aaron settled into com fort in the warm-smelling hay, then was still. Aaron fancied that the escaped slave was sleeping, then he was himself asleep; centuries had gone by, and they were drawing into the home barnyard. There were no dogs to bark. U riel did not hold with dogs-great godless creatures that devoured enough food to keep a hired man. (Not that he held - with hired men, either. ) The sperm-oil lamp in the farmhouse window showed a yard clean enough, not too clean, with a gaunt hay-wagon dusted with snow, and the dirt-and-manure banking of the house. It was a story-and-a-half white cottage, and the small windows of the attic story, just under the eaves, were diamond-shaped. They were tight-shut all winter. 7 8 THE GOD-SEEKER The anonymous figure beside Aaron sat up · and Uriel, lightly dropping down to the ground, came to give the stranger a hand, to support him into the house, as though the man might be lame or cramped with close hiding. Inside the warmth and safety of the house, the runaway, as he drew a shawl from about his head, appeared as a small Negro, gray, rather old. He stared about the kitchen, whicll was also the living-room, and very modern, having not merely an iron stove instead of a fireplace, but even an in door pump. Wide-boarded floor, pine table and chairs, they were all worn with constant and severe scouring, and the small square of rag carpet was bleached gray. There was one example of art and luxury on the wall: a carved salt-box from the Bennington Fair. The Negro looked at U riel and smiled as though he were begging for reassurance that now, in the land of freedom, he had become a human being. He smiled pleadingly, but the gaunt deacon stared back without feeling, and snapped, "Et anything? " "No, sah, nothing today." "Set down." Uriel pushed the man toward a chair at the table. Aaron's mother, a being of calic'o and decency and dreariness, her crepe skin old at thirty-five, a dumpy soft woman with no expression at all except patience, automatically appeared from The Folks' Bedroom, and set out on the table before the Negro cold corned beef, cold beans and a glass of butter milk. She faded back into the bedroom. The man ate desperately, whil� Aaron and his father yawn ingly peeled off their dogskin coats, their fur caps, their boots. No one said anything at all. When the man had fin ished, Uriel impatiently jerked his thumb toward the door to the anic stairs, and led him up to a cot there, under the eaves, near to Aaron's own room, which was merely a space cut offfrom the attic by a calico curtain. The fugitive must have gone instantly to sleep, with the one candle still lighted. By that light, Aaron stripped to his underclothes and socks, in which he slept all winter. He was drowsy in bed "before he said his prayers, but they were fer vent: not only Now I Lay Me Down but The Lord's Prayer, for he was a devout Sunday-school scholar, though also a champion at stoning woodchucks. He was knocked over by sleep. The fugitive snored THE GOD-SEEKER 9 lightly, mice flickered about the attic floor with a tread of infinite swifmess and delicacy, and over the roof the elm trees rubbed branch against branch like wintry fiddle-strings. For the white boy, there was a dream paradise of colored glass, and for the slave, a dreaming hope that for the first time since ever he was born, he might truly live. That was in mid-November, in the year 1830, in Nonhern Massachusetts. Though the route of escape was not yet known as the Underground Railroad, an increasing trickle of runaway slaves was dribbling from the South through to Canada, and, next to a banker and a venerable retired blacksmith, U riel Gadd was the most trusted agent of -holy treason in that en- tire Massachusetts county. AndAaron Gadd was the son of Uriel. Aaron was dazed and aching when he was called down to breakfast next morning, sharp at the usual hour of six. His father had already finished his pan of the chores, and sat at the table with the enormous Bible open before him, waiting fiercely till the family should be sitting in proper rigidity. He read then from the Second Book of Samuel, as though he were the High Sheriffchallenging pestilent rebels: "Thou knowest thy father and his men, that they be mighty n;1en, and they be chafed in their minds, as a bear robbed of her whelps in the field, and thy father is a man of war and will not lodge with the people." U riel smacked his lips. Aaron reflected that his father did indeed sound like a man of war, a bear in the fields, as he prayed: "Lord God of Hosts, give righteousness un-to this house hold and give to these, my children, obedience un-to thy will and my commands, lest in anger thou smite them for their sins and willfulness. Give, 0 Heavenly Father, power un-to thy servant's ordering of his household forever. Amen." Aaron was uncomfonable and a little afraid. This, he thought, is how God might pray to his God. Breakfast at the Gadds' was something to be hustled through, so that Uriel and Elijah might get to the fences and Aaron trot off to school. It became no longer majestic with awe, but a huddle of busy Yankees. At the head of the table, U riel Gadd, deacon of the Clun- 10 THE GOD-SEEKER ford Congregational Church, already venerable at thirty seven, his face like a deep-carven gravestone in the old burying-ground, a face plainshaven except for small side whiskers. At the other end, Aaron's mother, with the help less face of one who longed to be loved and did not know how. Along the sides of the table were the three children: Aaron, Elijah and Rebecca. Elijah was, for farm purposes, a grown man-all of fifteen, eight years older than Aaron. He. would be as tall as his father. He was a thin, dark boy, al ways scowling, not with temper but with a desire to under stand people and to achieve this righteousness that his father wasalways flourishing and always obscuring. The face of Rebecca was a rosy orb of goodness and ac ceptance. She would be married and make good butter and know sorrow and pass on, always gentle and a litde boister ous.