THE SOLDIER’S LOVE.
’Tis often in the parting hour,
Victorious love asserts his power
O’er coldness and disdain;
For flinty is her heart can view
To battle march her lover true.
Can hear perchance his last adieu,
Nor own her share of pain.—WALTER SCOTT.
At length the draft commenced, and the city was in a pretty state of
excitement. There were hundreds of youths who had been withheld by the
authority of parents or the persuasions of friends from volunteering,
but who were now in great hopes of being drafted and “made to do as they
liked.” And there were hundreds of men whose health had never been known
to suffer before, but who now suddenly fell ill of grievous disorders.
Never—no, never since the cholera of ‘32, had the city been so sickly.
Never were so many people at one time affected with so many aches and
pains. It was as if Pandora’s box had been then and there opened for the
first time, and all the maladies to which flesh is heir had been sown
broadcast over the district. And never had there been such deplorable
destitution; never so many only grandmothers, widowed mothers, orphaned
sisters and motherless children dependent upon men for support.
But what else could be expected?
All, or nearly all, the heroes had volunteered long before the
enrollment; and the men who did not were either serving humanity in some
other way, or else lacked the power or the will to serve their country.
But in all the excited multitude not one was more excited than our
Elfie.
Every morning when the paper came, she was the first to seize it; and
she would let her coffee grow cold while she read out the list of
drafted men to the company at the breakfast table.
And on the day on which the draft for _her_ sub-district was to come
off, Elfie was very nearly beside herself. She could not be easy for one
moment. She rambled all over the house and grounds in the most restless
manner. She drilled a little while, and then she threw aside her rifle
and re-commenced her rambles. She bought every edition of the evening
papers, extras and all, and read the list of the drafted men; but at the
very latest issue the list was incomplete, and Elfie was discontented.
In the morning she was the first one down stairs, watching for the early
paper. It came, and the list was complete. But on this occasion, for the
first time, Elfie omitted to read it aloud, and apparently no one had
interest enough in the subject to try their eyes over the diamond type.
But Elfie, who had been insane herself with anxiety on the preceding
day, seemed mad with exultation on this. She laughed at everything and
at nothing. She sang and danced all over the house, and drilled more
than ever.
“Really, Elfie,” said Erminie, “one would think that yesterday you had
been in an agony of suspense lest some favorite brother or friend should
be drafted, and that to-day you are in an ecstacy of joy on perceiving
that he has escaped. What ails you dear?”
“Never mind, you’ll soon see.
‘We are coming, Father Abraham,
_Five_ hundred thousand more,’”
replied Elfie, singing and dancing out of the room.
In two or three days they _did_ know. It was one morning after
breakfast.
Major Fielding had walked out for the first time since he was wounded.
Miss Conyers had just dropped in for a morning call.
Erminie, Elfie, Britomarte and Lieutenant Ethel were assembled in the
drawing-room, discussing the one great topic of the day, the very last
battle, when there came a ring at the bell, followed by the entrance of
Uncle Bob, bringing a large, formidable-looking letter, and gazing
around in perplexity, as doubting to whom to deliver it.
“Penny pos’, Miss,” he said at length, appealing to the young mistress
of the house.
But Elfie sprang up and darted past every one, and seized the letter,
exclaiming:
“It is for me!”
“For _you_, Elfie? _That_ letter!” said Erminie, in incredulous
surprise.
“Yes; if you doubt it look at it!” replied Elfie, triumphantly, turning
the back of the letter to the whole group, so that each one could read
its superscription.
It was a long, large, yellow envelope, bearing on its upper-right-hand
corner the words: PROVOST MARSHAL’S OFFICE. _Official Business._
Directed to Sydney Fielding.
And exclamations of wonder broke from all present.
“It cannot be for you, Elfie. It is from the Provost Marshal’s office,
and on official business. You can have no official business with the
Provost Marshal, my dear,” said Erminie.
“Can’t I?” mocked Elfie.
“But what business _can_ you have?”
“You’ll hear presently—
‘We are coming! we are coming! our Union to restore——’”
“Elfie, dear, _do_ stop singing, and be reasonable. This letter is
directed to Sydney Fielding. There must be a mistake. Sydney Fielding!”
“Well, what is _my_ name? Isn’t it Elfrida Sydney Fielding!”
“Yes; but——”
“Just so. The Elfrida’s left out. I had it left out on purpose. Not that
I intend to claim exemption on that account, like the poltroon Jonson,
who tried to get off on the ground that the enrolling officer had spelt
his name wrong, naturally writing it ‘Johnson.’ This summons is directed
to Sydney Fielding, which means me, Elfrida Sydney Fielding, since there
is no other Sydney Fielding in existence, and I shall respond to it.”
“Summons! Enrolling officer! Whatever do you mean, Elfie?” inquired
Erminie, in growing amazement, which was fully shared by young Ethel.
As for Britomarte, she seemed to know, or guess, the meaning of the
whole affair.
“Wait a minute!” said Elfie, breaking the broad seal, and reading the
letter, which was half print and half manuscript.
Her companions watched her impatiently.
“I knew it!” she exclaimed, jumping up and singing: “‘We are coming, we
are coming, our Union to restore!’”
“Oh, Elfie! Elfie! are you quite distracted?” exclaimed Erminie, in
distress.
“No, my dear, I am not ‘distracted;’ I am only _drafted_!” said Elfie.
“Drafted!” exclaimed all, in a breath.
“Yes, drafted, friends and fellow citizens!”
“Elfie, you _are_ crazed,” said Erminie.
“No, not ‘crazed’—_conscripted_! You always hit upon the right initial,
but not on the right word!” replied Elfie.
“You do not mean to say, in sober earnest, that you are _drafted_, Miss
Fielding? Such a thing was never heard of! Women have enlisted, and have
served; but always when disguised as men. I never in my life heard of a
woman being drafted. Such an event would be impossible,” said Lieutenant
Ethel.
“‘Impossible!’ Lor!” mocked Elfie. “Are you so young and green as not to
know impossible things constantly happen? And here is the proof in black
and white.”
“If that document is the official summons of a drafted man, it proves
beyond a doubt that it was never intended for you,” urged the young
officer.
“For whom then?” mockingly inquired Elfie.
“Why, of course, for some individual who was enrolled under that name.”
“All right! I was the individual enrolled under that name.”
“You, Elfie!” exclaimed all her companions, in a breath.
“Yes—I, Elfie. Now, if you will all stop exclaiming and gesticulating,
I’ll explain.”
“Do so, then.”
“Well, you know, last June, when the enrolling officers were going
round?”
“Yes,” said Erminie.
“The day they came here no one was at home but myself and the servants.
You, Erminie, were at the hospitals, and my pap was with General Hooker.
So I was keeping house that morning, when there came a peremptory ring
at the bell. Old Bob, as usual, answered it, and then came to me with a
scared face, saying there were two ‘ossifer gemmen’ at the door, asking
for the head of the family.”
“Well?”
“I was the vice-head, and so I went out to see what was wanted. There
stood the two enrolling officers, with the big books and stumpy pens. I
knew what they were at a glance. They looked tired and heated that warm
summer day, so I invited them to sit down and rest in that cool, shady
porch, which they did; when this sort of talk came off:
“‘How many male adults are there belonging to this house?’ inquired the
spokesman.
“‘Three or four in all,’ I said.
“‘Name them if you please.’
“‘First, then, there is the Reverend Justin Rosenthal.’
“He began to take that name down.
“‘But then he sailed for India two years ago, and it is feared he is
lost at sea,’ I went on.
“He stayed his hand, and looked annoyed, but then said:
“‘Go on. Who else?’
“‘Well, then there is Benoni Fielding.’
“Away he went scribbling at that name.
“‘He is with General Hooker’s army,’ I continued.
“He snatched up his hand impatiently, exclaiming:
“‘Then of course we don’t want his name. Who else?’
“‘Robert Snowflake,’ I answered.
“Off he started scribbling again.
“‘He is an African gentleman, aged seventy, the same old man who opened
the door for you,’ I added.
“Again his hand was arrested, and he inquired, half angrily:
“‘Well, is there any one else in the house?’
“‘Yes,’ I said—‘there is Sydney Fielding.’
“‘Well, before I take that name down I must be sure that he is not lost
at sea.’
“‘No,’ I answered.
“‘Nor serving with General Hooker?’
“‘No.’
“‘Nor yet an African gentleman aged seventy?’
“‘No,’ I assured him; ‘Sydney Fielding is at present at home, and not in
the service, is white, is twenty years old, and sound in mind and body.’
“‘He’ll do, then, beyond the least doubt!’ exclaimed the enrolling
officer, entering the name of Sydney Fielding on his list. Then he
inquired:
“‘Is there any other male adult in the house?’
“I answered, ‘No—not one.’
“And he shut up his book, and asked me the favor of a cool drink of
water, which Uncle Bob brought him. When he and his companion had drank
their fill, they thanked me and went away. And that’s all,” said Elfie,
with a sigh of relief.
“Well, I declare I never heard such a story in my life!” exclaimed
Erminie, while Lieutenant Ethel looked grave, and Britomarte seemed
amused.
“Now see here, friends,” said Elfie, as if she were upon her defence, “I
told no fibs to the enrolling officer—not one. If he enrolled me it was
all his doings, not mine. You know they are a very suspicious set, those
enrollers. They are always suspecting us of suppressing the name of some
favorite friend or relative, to keep him from catching cold in the
draft.”
“They have often just cause for suspicion,” said young Ethel.
“Be that as it may, these officers must have suspected me of suppressing
some name. For when I had cited every male creature belonging to the
premises, he persisted in inquiring if there was ‘any one else?’ Mind,
he didn’t say any _man_, but any ‘_one_.’ So I was able to answer, ‘Yes,
there was Sydney Fielding.’ And thinking only of men, he took it for
granted that Sydney Fielding was the name of a man, and enrolled it
accordingly.”
“It was a practical joke on your part, of course, Elfie, but you can
carry it no farther. You will either take no notice of this summons, or
you will get your father to take it up to the Provost Marshal’s office
and explain,” said Erminie, gravely.
“Indeed I shall do neither one nor the other. I shall just obey the
summons by walking up to the Provost Marshal’s office and reporting
myself.”
“Oh, Elfie! Elfie! But your father will never permit you to take such an
extraordinary step,” exclaimed Erminie in dismay.
“I shan’t stop to consult him. I shall promptly obey peremptory orders.
I shall go up and report for duty. I have been regularly enrolled,
regularly drafted, and I shall regularly report.”
“Oh, Elfie! Elfie! how shocking!”
“Why, see here. I _must_. I don’t come under any one of the heads of
exemption. I know that much. I am not an alien, nor an invalid, nor an
idiot. I am not under eighteen or over forty-five. I am neither the only
son of my grandmother, nor am I the father of fourteen small motherless
children, and one at the breast. In short, I cannot put in even the
smallest of the numerous pleas by which the cowards cry off from serving
their country. I am a native born citizen of the United States, aged
twenty years, sound in mind and body, wind and limb, single, and with no
one but my country depending on me for support.”
And so saying, Elfie jumped up and danced out of the room to the tune of
“Rally round the flag, boys! rally once again!”
“_Will_ she be so mad as to act upon that summons?” inquired young
Ethel, in consternation.
Britomarte laughed. Erminie sighed. Neither could answer his question.
To the confusion of all her friends, Elfie _did_ act upon that summons.
When Erminie went in search of her to try to persuade her to abandon her
wild project, Elfie was no where to be found.
Britomarte and Erminie went their morning rounds of the hospitals, and
returned home to dinner. But Elfie did not appear. Neither, luckily, did
her father. The two friends went out again on their afternoon rounds,
and returned to tea. They found Major Fielding walking up and down on
the porch. He greeted the young ladies cordially, and apologized for his
unexpected absence from the dinner table by explaining that he had met a
brother officer, who had carried him off to dine at Willard’s. Then he
inquired:
“Where is my girl? I haven’t seen her since I came home.”
“She is in her room, perhaps,” answered Erminie, uneasily, but hoping
earnestly that Elfie might be found there.
Erminie hurried into the house, and up stairs to Elfie’s chamber, where,
sure enough, she found the girl, with her bonnet and shawl thrown
carelessly upon the floor, and herself sitting down on the sofa,
sulking.
“Oh, Elfie, dearest, I am so glad to see you back again. We have been so
anxious about you all day. Where have you been, darling?” exclaimed
Erminie, going towards her.
“Where have I been? To the Provost Marshal’s office, of course.”
“Oh, my dear!”
“Yes, I have. But would you believe it, Erminie? they wouldn’t accept
me. No, they wouldn’t, although I told them all that I told you, and
proved to them that I didn’t come under any one of the heads of
exemption, and that I was both willing and able to serve my country. No;
for all I could say they wouldn’t accept me.”
“My dear, did you really expect that they would?” inquired Erminie in
astonishment.
“I don’t see why they shouldn’t. It’s all bosh about my being a woman. I
tell you, Erminie, a healthy young woman is quite as well able to
perform military duty as most men are, and much more able than the mere
boys they are constantly mustering into the ranks. I put that all to
them. But they laughed at me—they did, the narrow-minded old fogies!”
“My dear, it was the most indulgent manner in which they could have
treated your bad joke,” gravely replied Erminie.
“Joke? I never was more in earnest in my life. I did my duty. But they
didn’t do theirs. And mind, Erminie, I didn’t abandon my point very
easily. I didn’t until they sent me away from the office.”
“Well, I hope here is an end of the whole absurd affair, my dear Elfie.
And I am very glad that your good father has not been vexed by hearing
of it.”
“But here is _not_ an end of it. Erminie, I mean either to serve in the
army, as some women are doing at this present moment, or I will furnish
a substitute in some able bodied alien.”
“Then, darling, as your father is well off in means, notwithstanding his
great losses, I see no objection to your furnishing a substitute, though
you are not obliged to do so. I myself have a representative in the
field.”
“_You_, Erminie!”
“Yes, dear, and I think it the duty of every wealthy and independent
woman in the country to have a representative in the army. But come,
your father is waiting for you, Elfie. And tea is ready. Let us go to
it.”
The two girls rose to leave the room.
“Dear Elfie, pray do not speak of this vexatious subject before your
father this evening. This, you know, is his first day out. He has made a
long one of it, and he looks tired; so let him have his tea in peace,”
said Erminie, as they went down stairs.
“All right. I’ll not say anything to spoil the dear old boy’s digestion
or disturb his night’s rest.”
“‘Old boy!’ Oh, Elfie! to speak of your father so! How I wish you had a
little more veneration!”
“So do I; but as I haven’t, what’s the use of talking? May be though
honest affection isn’t a bad substitute.”
“And you have that, Elfie dear, certainly. Here we are,” said Erminie,
opening the back hall door leading out on the lawn, where, under the
shade of a spreading horse chestnut tree, the neat tea table was set.
Britomarte, Major Fielding and Lieutenant Ethel were already out there.
Young Ethel started with delight on seeing Elfie; but Erminie raised her
finger in a warning manner, and he subsided into quietness. Not a word
was said about Elfie’s adventure. They sat down at the table.
Erminie poured out the tea. The major gave a description of the friends
he had met at an early dinner at Willard’s. And he spoke of his
approaching departure to join his regiment.
Lieutenant Ethel announced his own appointment to the command of the
gunboat “Thunderbolt,” then lying off the Navy Yard.
While they were still at the table the garden gate opened and Justin
entered, smiling.
They all arose eagerly to welcome him. He shook hands with Britomarte
and Elfie, and with the two gentlemen, and kissed his sister, and then
drew a chair to the table, where room was speedily made for him.
“Why, he wears the captain’s straps!” exclaimed Elfie, in delight.
“Yes,” smiled Justin, “I have my company at last, Elfie.”
“But you said nothing about it!”
“I wanted to see whether you would notice the straps without my pointing
them out.”
“Well, I declare!—Ladies and gentlemen I have the honor to present to
you—Captain Rosenthal!” said Elfie, solemnly.
“I saw your new straps, Justin dear—I saw them at once. What change
could take place in you that I should not see?” said Erminie, in a low
voice.
“I understood you, my sister,” murmured Justin. Then he turned his eyes
on Britomarte.
She met the glance and answered gravely:
“When you are promoted for services rendered on the battle-field,
Justin, then I will congratulate you.”
Captain Rosenthal bowed in silence.
“Certainly; what have we all been thinking of? He has risen from the
ranks without ever having been under fire; he has been advanced upon the
small merits of keeping himself clean and minding his drill. Bosh! When
you have seen twenty well-fought fields and come to us with one arm and
both legs off and the stars of a major-general on, then we’ll make much
of you,” said Elfie.
“Oh, how cruel!” murmured Erminie.
“No, they are not cruel, my sister. They are right,” said Justin.
“Promotion is best earned in the battle-field, where I shall soon seek
it. Though I hope to bring back a limb or two more than Elfie would
leave me.”
“Yes—I hope so too; for she would literally leave you not a leg to stand
upon!” exclaimed Major Fielding heartily.
Justin then announced that the brigade to which his regiment belonged
was now ready for service, and was hourly expecting marching orders.
And when tea was over he took leave and departed.
It was not until the next morning, at the breakfast table, that Major
Fielding discovered his daughter’s escapade. Now that the draft was
over, Elfie no longer read the papers aloud while others breakfasted. So
Major Fielding had the morning paper in his hand, leisurely looking over
it while he sipped his coffee.
Suddenly he set down his cup with emphasis, and nearly let out an oath.
Erminie, Elfie and Ethel looked up to see what was the matter.
“What the —— is this? How is it? Why wasn’t I told about it? Answer,
Miss!” exclaimed the angry old soldier, turning upon his daughter.
“Now here’s a row! Answer what? Now don’t obstreperate, but explain,
pap,” coolly replied Elfie, as she daintily ate her egg from its shell.
“_This_, Miss! THIS!” exclaimed the almost infuriated old man, holding
up the paper with one hand and rapping upon it with the fist of the
other.
“Don’t make a noise over the breakfast table, you dear old boy—it is
impolite; and don’t destroy the paper before other people have read
it,—it is selfish. But tell me like a good boy, what’s the row?”
“She is half right. Erminie, my dear, I beg your pardon; but that girl
of mine is enough to drive any sane man mad! Ethel, take that and read
it,” said the major, extending the paper to the lieutenant and pointing
out the offensive paragraph.
It was headed—
A GIRL DRAFTED BY MISTAKE AND INSISTING ON SERVING.
And it was a full account of Elfie’s visit to the Provost Marshal’s
office and all that took place in her interview with the officers there.
“There!” said the major, when Ethel had finished reading—“what do you
think of that? Oh, I’ll take her across to St. Elizabeth’s and shut her
up in the lunatic asylum!”
“No you won’t, pap! People can’t do that with sane women in this
country! Now do be just! that’s a nice old boy! Could _I_ help being
drafted?”
“It was some infernal mistake! I beg your pardon, Erminie, my dear. It
was some mistake. But you could have helped reporting, you
exasperating——”
—“As if I _would_ have helped reporting, pap? No! I leave _that_ sort of
poltroonery to the men!” said Elfie.
The major fairly shook with wrath.
“Be consoled, pap, they wouldn’t have me, you know. They said I didn’t
belong to a good fighting family!” said Elfie.
The major started up from the breakfast table, and left the room in hot
anger.
The breakfast party looked dismayed.
Erminie arose and threw her arms around the perverse girl’s neck, and
pleaded with her.
“Elfie! dear Elfie, go after him. Ask his forgiveness. Make friends with
your father!”
“Leave me alone, Minie! I know my dear, old governor; he’ll soon be all
right!” said Elfie.
But the dear, old governor did not get over his vexation as soon as
Elfie expected. He kept his little daughter at a distance for some days.
“Come, pap,” she said to him one morning, “let’s compromise! I will
promise you ‘never to do so more,’ if you will buy me a substitute!”
But the indignant major made her no reply.
Elfie persisted in her proposal with all the perseverance of the Beast,
who daily for a year asked Beauty to marry him.
“Come, pap! buy me a substitute and I’ll promise you not to run away in
boy’s clothes, and ’list!”
But still the old man did not deign to answer. All this time, also,
Elfie was, as she always had been, in all substantial services a most
devoted daughter to her father. She attended to his room, to put all
those little finishing touches to its comfort that no one but herself
could effect. She kept his clothes in perfect order. She had one of his
half dozen pairs of slippers always just where he wanted them. His pipe
was always at hand. His pitcher of iced lemonade was never empty.
Nothing that tended to his comfort was wanting.
But still the major was inexorable.
“Just look at my pap!” Elfie would sometimes say, “sitting there sulking
and distilling bile! If he goes on this way much longer, he’ll make
himself so sick I shall have to give him a dose of calomel and
jalap!—Pap! you may sulk as long as you please, and make yourself as
yellow as saffron, _but_—if you don’t buy me a substitute I’ll ’list! I
will, as sure as I’m the daughter of a hero!”
So at length by coaxing, threatening, wheedling, and bantering, Elfie
brought her indulgent old father out of his anger, and so far into her
way of thinking that he actually did buy her a substitute. He gave five
hundred dollars to a fine young foreigner to represent Elfie in the
field.