American fiction -- 20th century; Divorce -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction; Rich people -- Fiction
Just as in his sociological perplexities Gordon, yearning to be a sane
spirit, had abstained from radicalism and had sought relief in concrete
practical activities, he had watched the theological firmament and had
felt his way. If he realized that the Christian organizations which
saw in the human soul a dignity which rejected mediation were merely
holding their own as formal bodies, he comforted himself with the
knowledge that the thousands of men and women who rarely entered the
churches--among them many of the most thoughtful and busiest workers in
the land--were to a unit sympathizers with the creed of soul-freedom
and soul-development. Not merely this; he knew that among orthodox
worshippers the secret belief of the majority of the educated already
rejected as superfluous or antiquated most of the old dogmas. But with
his reverence for religion as an institution, Gordon had no ambition to
outstrip his generation; simply to be in the van of it. There was no
attraction for him in iconoclasm; he craved illumination, yet not at
the expense of rationalism. Now suddenly the practical issue of the
Church's interference with the State, of the Church's imposition on
mankind of a cruel, inflexible ideal, labelled as superior purity, had
become both an immediate and a personal concern. His soul felt seared
as by an iron; all his instincts of sympathy with common humanity, the
helpless victims of an arbitrary aim to preserve the family at the
expense of the blameless individual, were aroused and intensified.
Viewed as a general issue, Gordon felt no question as to the outcome.
Was it not already decided? The Church had never ceased to deplore as
usurpation society's constantly louder claim the world over of the
right to regulate marriage, but without avail. It was only abuse by
the State which had produced a reaction and given sacerdotalism another
chance. But the particular, the personal issue, was a very different
matter. For him it meant everything, and his whole being revolted at
the possibility of losing the great joy of life through such a
misapprehension of spiritual duty on the part of her who, so far as he
was concerned, was the one woman in existence. Yet during the next
weeks following the interview with the clergyman he experienced a sense
of flatness which was almost despondency, for he realized that he had
exhausted his resources. Mr. Prentiss had refused to aid him; on the
contrary, had virtually defied him by expressing a triumphant
conviction that Constance's decision was final. Could it be that she,
whose lucidity of mind he had been wont to admire, would refuse to
understand that the barrier which seemed to separate them was but an
illusion? Surely it was not for the good of the world that true
love--its most vital force--should be starved because the marriage tie
was played fast and loose with by others. And yet he appreciated
apprehensively the subtlety of this plea for the world's good; how
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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