LILLIE CHOOSES FOR HERSELF.
Late in that eventful summer of 1862, so bloody in Virginia and
Kentucky, so comparatively peaceful in the malarious heats of Louisiana,
the Colonel of the Tenth Barataria held a swearing soliloquy. In general
when he swore it was at somebody or to somebody; but on the present
occasion the performance was confined to the solitude of his own room
and the gratification of his own ears; unless, indeed, we may venture to
suppose that he had a guardian angel whose painful duty it was to attend
him constantly. I suspect that I have not yet enabled the reader to
realize how remarkable were the Colonel's gifts in the way of profanity;
and I fear that I could not do it without penning three or four such
astonishing pages as never were printed, unless it might be in the
infernal regions. In the appropriate words, of Lieutenant Van Zandt,
who, by the way, honestly admired his superior officer for this and for
his every other characteristic, "it was a nasty old swear."
Carter's quarters were a large brick house belonging to a lately
wealthy but now impoverished and exiled Secessionist. He had his office,
his parlor, his private sitting-room, his dining-room, his
billiard-room, and five upper bedrooms, besides the basement. His life
corresponded with his surroundings; his dinners were elegant, his wines
and segars superior. As it was now evening and his business hours long
since over, he was in his sitting-room, lounging in an easy chair, his
feet on a table, a half-smoked segar in one hand and an open letter in
the other. Only the Colonel or Lieutenant Van Zandt, or men equally
gifted in ardent expressions, could suitably describe the heat of the
weather. Although he wore nothing but his shirt and pantaloons, his
cheeks were deeply flushed, and his forehead beaded with perspiration.
The Louisiana mosquitoes, a numerous and venomous people, were buzzing
in his ears, raising blotches on his face and perforating his linen. But
it was not about them, it was about the letter, that he was blaspheming.
When the paroxysm was over he restored the segar to his lips, discovered
that it was out, and relighted it; for he was old smoker enough and
healthy enough to prefer the pungency of a stump to the milder flavor of
a virgin weed. While he re-reads his letter, we will venture to look
over his shoulder.
"My dear Colonel," it ran, "I am sorry that I can give you no better
news. Waldo and I have worked like Trojans, but without bringing
anything to pass. You will see by enclosed copy of application to the
Secretary, that we got a respectable crowd of Senators and
Representatives to join in demanding a step for you. The Secretary is
all right; he fully acknowledges your claims. But those infernal bigots,
the Sumner and Wilson crowd, got ahead of us. They went to headquarters,
civil and military. We couldn't even secure your nomination, much less a
senatorial majority for confirmation. These cursed fools mean to purify
the army, they say. They put McClellan's defeat down to his pro-slavery
sentiments, and Pope's defeat to McClellan. They intend to turn out
every moderate man, and shove in their own sort. They talk of making
Banks head of the Army of the Potomac, in place of McClellan, who has
just saved the capital and the nation. There never was such fanaticism
since the Scotch ministers at Dunbar undertook to pray and preach down
Cromwell's army. You are one of the men whom they have blackballed. They
have got hold of the tail-end of some old plans of yours in the
filibustering days, and are making the most of it to show that you are
unfit to command a brigade in 'the army of the Lord.' They say you are
not the man to march on with old John Brown's soul and hang Jeff Davis
on a sour apple-tree. I think you had better take measures to get rid of
that filibustering ghost. I have another piece of advice to offer. Mere
administrative ability in an office these fellows can't appreciate; but
they can be dazzled by successful service in the field, because that is
beyond their own cowardly possibilities; also because it takes with
their constituents, of whom they are the most respectful and obedient
servants. So why not give up your mayoralty and go in for the autumn
campaign? If you will send home your name with a victory attached to it,
I think we can manufacture a public opinion to compel your nomination
and confirmation. Mind, I am not finding fault. I know that nothing can
be done in Louisiana during the summer. But blockheads don't know this,
and in politics we are forced to appeal to blockheads; our supreme court
of decisions is, after all, the twenty millions of ignorami who do the
voting. Accordingly, I advise you to please these twenty millions by
putting yourself into the fall campaign.
"Very truly yours, &c."
"D----n it! of course I mean to fight," muttered the Colonel, when he
had finished his second reading. "I'll resign the mayoralty, and ask for
active service and a brigade. Then I must write something to explain
that filibustering business.--No, I won't. The less that is explained,
the better. I'll deny it outright.--Now there's Weitzel. He, by" (this
and that) "can have a star, and I can't. My junior, by" (that and the
other) "in the service, by" (this and that) "by at least six years. What
if he should get the active brigade? It would be just him, by" (this and
that) "to want it, and just like Butler, by" (that and the other) "to
give it to him."
The Colonel sat for a long time in vexatious thought, slapping his
mosquito bites, relighting his stump and smoking it down to its
bitterest dregs. Finally, without having written a word, he gave up the
battle with the stinging multitudes, drank a glass of brandy and water,
turned off the gas, stepped into the adjoining bedroom, kicked off his
trousers (long since unbuttoned), drew the mosquito-curtain, and went to
bed as quickly and quietly as an infant. Soldiering habits had enabled
him to court slumber with success under all circumstances.
During the month of September was formed that famous organization,
composed of five regiments of infantry, with four squadrons and two
batteries attached, known officially as the Reserve Brigade, but
popularly as Weitzel's. It was intended from the first for active
service, and the title Reserve was applied to it simply to mislead the
enemy. The regiments were encamped for purposes of drill and preparation
on the flats near Carrollton, a village four or five miles above New
Orleans. Carter applied for the brigade, but was unable to obtain it.
Weitzel was not only his superior in rank, but was Butler's favorite
officer and most trusted military adviser. Then Carter threw up his
mayoralty and reported for duty to his regiment, in great bitterness of
spirit at finding himself obliged to serve under a man who had once been
his junior and inferior. His only consolation was that this was not the
worst; both he and Weitzel were under the orders of an attorney.
But he went to work vigorously at drilling, disciplining and fitting
out his regiment. His Sunday morning inspections were awful ordeals
which lasted the whole forenoon. If a company showed three or four dirty
men the Colonel sent for the Captain and gave him such a lecture as made
him think seriously of tendering his resignation. When not on drill or
guard duty the soldiers were busy nearly all day in brushing their
uniforms, polishing their brasses and buttons, blacking their shoes and
accoutrements, and washing their shirts, drawers, stockings, and even
their canteen strings. The battalion drills of the Tenth were truly
laborious gymnastic exercises, performed in great part on the
double-quick. The sentinels did their whole duty, or were relieved and
sent to the guardhouse. Corporals who failed to make their rounds
properly were reduced to the ranks. Privates who forgot to salute an
officer, or who did not do it in handsome style, were put in confinement
on bread and water. The company cooking utensils were scoured every day,
and the camp was as clean as bare, turfless earth could be. Carter was a
hard-hearted, intelligent, conscientious, beneficent tyrant. The Tenth
Barataria was the show regiment of the Reserve Brigade. I have not time
to analyze the interesting feelings of freeborn Yankees under this
searching despotism. I can only say that the soldiers hated their
colonel because they feared him; that, like true Americans they
profoundly respected him because, as they said, "he knew his biz;" that
they were excessively proud of the superior drill and neatness to which
he had brought them against their wills; and that, on the whole, they
would not have exchanged him for any other regimental commander in the
brigade. They firmly believed that under "Old Carter" they could whip
the best regiment in the rebel service. It is true that there were
exceptional ruffians who could not forget that they had been bucked and
put in the stocks, and who muttered vindictive prophecies as to
something desperate which they would do on the first field of battle.
"Bedad an' I'll not forget to pay me reshpecs to 'im," growled a
Hibernian pugilist. "Let 'im get in front of the line, an I'll show 'im
that I know how to fire to the right and left oblike."
Carter laughed contemptuously when informed of the bruiser's threat.
"It's not worth taking notice of," he said. "I know what he'll do when
he comes under the enemy's fire. He'll blaze away straight before him as
fast as he can load and pull trigger, he'll be in such a cursed hurry to
kill the men who are trying to kill him. I couldn't probably make him
fire right oblique, if I wanted to. You never have seen men in battle,
Captain Colburne. It's really amusing to notice how eager and savage new
troops are. The moment a man has discharged his piece he falls to
loading as if his salvation depended on it. The moment he has loaded he
fires just where he did the first time, whether he sees anything or not.
And he'll keep doing this till you stop him. I am speaking of raw
troops, you understand. The old cocks save their powder,--that is unless
they get bedeviled with a panic. You must remember this when we come to
fight. Don't let your men get to blazing away at nothing and scaring
themselves with their own noise, under the delusion that they are
fiercely engaged."
During the month or more which the brigade passed at Carrollton Ravenel
frequently visited Colburne, and did not forget to make an incidental
call or two of civility on Colonel Carter. On two or three gala
occasions he brought out Mrs. Larue and Miss Ravenel. They always came
and went by the railroad, their present means not justifying a carriage.
When the ladies appeared in camp the Colonel usually discovered the
fact, and hastened to make himself master of the situation. He invited
them under the marquee of his double tent, brought out store of
confiscated Madeira, ordered the regimental band to play, sent word to
the Lieutenant-Colonel to take charge of dress-parade, and escorted his
visitors in front of the line to show them the exercises. In these high
official hospitalities neither Colburne nor any other company officer
was invited to share. Even the lieutenant-colonel, the major, the first
surgeon and the chaplain, though ranking as field and staff officers,
kept at a respectful distance from the favored visitors and their awful
host. For discipline's sake Carter lived in loftier state among these
volunteers than he would have done in a regular regiment. Miss Ravenel
was amused, but she was also considerably impressed, by the awe with
which he was regarded by all who surrounded him. I believe that all
women admire men who can make other men afraid.
"Are you as much scared at the general as your officers are at you?" she
laughingly asked. "I wish I could see the general."
"I will bring him to your house," said Carter; but this was one of the
promises that he did not keep. That gay speech of the young lady must
have been a bitter dose to him, as we know who are aware of his
professional disappointment.
The ladies were delighted to walk down the open ranks on inspection, and
survey the neat packing of the double lines of unslung knapsacks.
"It is like going through a milliner's shop," said Lillie. "How nicely
the things are folded! They really have a great deal of taste in
arranging the colors. See, here is blue and red and grey, and then blue
again, with a black cravat here and a white handkerchief there. It is
like the backs of a row of books."
"Yes, this box knapsack is a good one for show," the Colonel admitted.
"It is too large, however. When the men come to march they will find
themselves overloaded. I shall have to make a final inspection and throw
away a few tons of these extra-military gewgaws. What does a soldier
want of black cravats and daguerreotypes and diaries and Testaments?"
"How cruelly practical you are!" said Lillie.
"Not in every thing," responded the Colonel with a sigh; and for some
reason the young lady blushed profoundly at the answer.
Of course these visits, the regiment, the Reserve Brigade, and its
destination were matters of frequent conversation at the Ravenel
dwelling. Through some leak of indiscretion or treachery it transpired
that Weitzel was to oust Mouton from the country between the Mississippi
and the Atchafalaya, where he was a constant menace to New Orleans. The
whole city, rebel and loyal, argued and quarreled about the chances of
success. The Secessionists were rampant; they said that Mouton had
fifteen thousand men; they offered to bet their piles that he would have
New Orleans back in a month. At every notable corner and in front of
every popular drinking saloon were groups of tall, dark, fierce-looking
men, carrying heavy canes, who glared at Union officers and muttered
about coming Union defeats. Pale brunette ladies flouted their skirts
scornfully at sight of Federal uniforms, and flounced out of omnibusses
and street cars defiled by their presence. These feminine politicians
never visited Miss Ravenel, however intimately they might have known her
before the war; and if they met her in the street they complimented her
with the same look of hate which they vouchsafed to the flag of their
country. With Madame Larue they were still on good terms, although they
rarely called at her house for fear of encountering the Ravenels. This
suited Madame's purposes precisely; she could thereby be Federal at home
and Secessionist abroad.
"You know, my dears," she would say to the female Langdons and Soulés,
"that one cannot undo one's self of one's own relatives. That would be
unreasonable. So I am obliged to receive the Doctor and his poor
daughter at my house. But I understand perfectly that their society must
be to you disagreeable. Therefore I absolve you, though with pain, from
returning my visits. But, my dears, I shall only call on you the more
often. Do not be surprised," she would sometimes add, "if you see a
Federal uniform enter my door from time to time. I have my objects. I
flatter myself that I shall yet be of benefit to the good cause."
And in fact she did occasionally send to a certain secret junto scraps
of information which she professed to have extracted from Union
officers. This information was of no value; it is even probable that
much of it was a deliberate figment of her imagination; but in this way
she kept her political odor sweet in the nostrils of the city
Secessionists.
In secret she cared for little more than to be on the safe side and keep
her property. She laughed with delighted malice at the Doctor's sarcasms
upon the absurdities of New Orleans politics, and the rottenness of New
Orleans morals. She sympathized with Lillie's youthful indignation at
her own social proscription. She flattered Carter's professional pride
by predicting his success in the field. She satirized Colburne behind
his back, and praised him to his face, for his Catonian principles. She
was all things to all men, and made herself generally agreeable.
Meantime Lillie had become what she called a Federalist; for she was not
yet so established in the faith as to style it Loyalist or Patriot. What
girl would not have been thus converted, driven as she was from the
mansion of secession by its bitter inmates, and drawn towards the
opposing house by her father and her two admirers? Colonel Carter's
visits were frequent and his influence strong and increasing,
notwithstanding the Doctor's warning tirades. It made her uneasy,
fretful and unhappy, to disagree with her father; but on the subject of
this preference she positively could not hold his opinions. He seemed to
her to be so unjust; she could not understand why he should be so
bitterly and groundlessly prejudiced; the reasons which he hinted at
glided off her like rain off a bird's feathers. She granted no faith to
the insinuation that the Colonel was a bad man, nor, had she credited
it, would she have inferred therefrom that he would make a bad husband.
Let us not be astonished at the delusion of this intelligent and
pure-minded young lady. I have witnessed more extraordinary assortments
and choices than this. I have more than once seen an elegant, brilliant,
highly-cultured girl make an inexplicable and hungry snap at a man who
was stupidly, boorishly, viciously her inferior. The subtle and potent
sense which draws the two sexes together is an inexorable despot.
The Colonel was one of its victims, although not quite bereft of reason.
Still, if he did not offer himself to Miss Ravenel before going on this
Lafourche expedition, it was simply from considerations of worldly
prudence, or, as he phrased it to himself, out of regard to her
happiness. He thought that his pay was insufficient to support her in
the style to which she had been accustomed, and in which he wished his
wife to live. That he would be rejected he did not much expect, being a
veteran in love affairs, accustomed to conquer, and gifted by birthright
with an audacious confidence. Nor did he so much as suspect that he was
not good enough for her. His moral perceptions, not very keen perhaps by
nature, had been still further calloused by thirty-five years of
wandering in the wilderness of sin. Strange as it may seem to people of
staid lives the Colonel did not even consider himself a fast man. He
allowed that he drank; yes, that he sometimes drank more than was good
for him; but, as he laughingly said, he never took more than his
regulation quart a day; by which he meant that, according to the army
standard, he was a temperate drinker. As to gambling, that was a
gentleman's amusement, and moreover he had done very little of it in the
last year or two. It was true that he had had various----; but then all
men did that sort of thing at times and under temptation; they did it
more or less openly, according as they were men of the world or
hypocrites; if they said they didn't, they lied. The Colonel did not
grant the least faith to the story of Joseph, or, allowing it to be
true, for the sake of argument, he considered Joseph no gentleman. In
short, after inspecting himself fairly and fully according to his
lights, he concluded that he was rather honorable even in his vices. Had
he not, for instance, entangled himself in that affair of the French
_boudoir_ chiefly to get Miss Ravenel out of his head, and so keep from
leading her and himself into a poverty-stricken marriage? Thus, though
he was very frank with himself, he still concluded that he was a
tolerably good fellow. Yes; and there were many other persons who
thought him good enough; men who knew his ways perfectly but could not
see much matter of reproach in them.
In this state of opinion, and temper of feeling, the Colonel approached
his last interview with Miss Ravenel. He meant to avoid the temptation
of seeing her alone on this occasion; but when Mrs. Larue told him that
he should have a private interview of half an hour he could not refuse
the offer. It must not be supposed that Lillie was a party to the
conspiracy. Madame alone originated, planned, and executed. She saw to
it beforehand that the Doctor should be invited out; she stopped
Colburne on the doorstep with a message that the ladies were not at
home; lastly she slipped out of the parlor, dodged through the back
passage into the Ravenel house, and remained there thirty minutes by the
watch. It vexed this amiable creature a trifle that the Colonel should
prefer Lillie; but since he would be so foolish, she was determined that
he should make a marriage of it. Leaving her to these reflections as she
walks the Doctor's studio, kicking his minerals about the carpet with
her little feet, or watching at the window lest he should return
unexpectedly, let us go back to Miss Ravenel and her still undecided
lover. It was understood that the expedition was to sail the next day,
although Carter had not said so, not being a man to tattle official
secrets. When, therefore, he entered the house that evening, she felt a
vague dread of him, as if half comprehending that the occasion might
lead him to say something decisive of her future. Carter on his part
knew that he would not be interrupted for a reasonable number of
minutes; and as Mrs. Larue left the room the sense of opportunity rushed
upon him like a flood of temptation. He forgot in an instant that she
was poor, that he was poor and extravagant, and that a marriage would be
the maddest of follies, compared with which all his by-gone
extravagancies were acts of sedate wisdom. He was now what he always had
been, and what people of strong passions very frequently are, the victim
of chance and juxtaposition. He rose from the sofa where he had been
sitting and worrying his cap, walked straight across the room with a
firm step, like the resolute, irresistible advance of a veteran
regiment, and took a chair beside her.
"Miss Ravenel," he said, and stopped. There was more profound feeling in
his voice and face than we have yet seen him exhibit in this history;
there was so much, and it was so electrical in its nature, at least as
regarded her, that she trembled in body and spirit. "Miss Ravenel," he
resumed, "I did intend to go to this battle without saying one word of
love to you. But I cannot do it. You see I cannot do it."
Such a moment as this is one of the supreme moments of a woman's life.
There is a fulfillment of hope which is thrillingly delicious; there is
a demand, amounting to a decree, which involves her whole being, her
whole future; there is a surprise,--it is always a surprise,--which is
so sudden and great that it falls like a terror. A pure and loving girl
who receives a first declaration of love from the man whom she has
secretly chosen out of all men as the keeper of her heart is in a
condition of soul which makes her womanhood all ecstacy. There is not a
nerve in her brain, not a drop of blood in her body, which does not go
delirious with the enthusiasm of the moment. She does not seem really to
see, nor to hear, nor to speak, but only to feel that presence and those
words, and her own reply; to feel them all by some new, miraculous
sense, such as we are conscious of in dreams, when things are
communicated to us and by us without touch or voice. It is a mere
palpitation of feeling, yet full of utterances; a throbbing of happiness
so acute and startling as to be almost pain. That man has no just
comprehension of this moment, or is very unworthy of the power vested in
his manhood, who can awaken such emotions merely for a passing pleasure,
or blight them afterward by unfaithfulness and neglect. In one sense
Carter was as noble as his triumph; he was not a good man, but he could
love fervently. At the same time he was not timorous, but understood her
although she did not answer. Precisely because she did not speak,
because he saw that she could not speak, because he felt that no more
speech was necessary, he took her hand and pressed it to his lips. The
color which had left her skin came back to it and burned like a flame in
her face and neck.
"May I write to you when I am away?" he asked.
She raised her eyes to his with an expression of loving gratitude which
no words could utter. She tried to speak, but she could only whisper--
"Oh! I should be so happy."
"Then, my dear, my dearest one, remember that I am yours, and try to
feel that you are mine."
I shall go no farther in the description of this interview.