"He who loves not his country can love nothing."
--BYRON.
"There were sad hearts in a darken'd home,
When the brave had left their bower;
But the strength of prayer and sacrifice
Was with them in that hour."
--MRS. HEMANS.
The sea voyage had done much for the health of both ladies, and the soft
Italian air carried on the cure. Mr. Dinsmore, too, had recovered his
usual strength, for the first time since his attack of fever.
There was no lack of good society at their command; good both socially and
intellectually. American, English, Italian, French, etc.; many former
friends and acquaintances and others desiring to be introduced by these;
but none of our party felt disposed at that time to mix much with the
outside world.
Elsie's deep mourning was for her sufficient excuse for declining all
invitations; while Rose could plead her still precarious state of health.
She wore no outward badge of mourning for Mrs. Travilla, but felt deep and
sincere grief at her loss; for the two had been intimate and dear friends
for many years, the wide disparity in age making their intercourse and
affection much like that of mother and daughter.
The condition of political affairs in their own country was another thing
that caused our friends to feel more exclusive and somewhat reluctant to
mingle with those of other nationalities. Every mail brought them letters
and papers from both North and South, and from their distant standpoint
they watched with deep interest and anxiety the course of events fraught
with such momentous consequences to their native land.
Neither Mr. Dinsmore nor Mr. Travilla had ever been a politician; but both
they and their wives were dear lovers of their country, by which they
meant the whole Union. The three who were natives of the South
acknowledged that that section was dearer to them than any other, but that
the whole was nearer and dearer than any part; while Rose said "she knew
no difference; it was all her own beloved native land, to her mind one and
indivisible."
They led a cheerful, quiet life in their Italian home, devoting themselves
to each other and their children; Mr. Dinsmore acting the part of tutor to
young Horace, as he had done to Elsie.
Her little ones were the pets and playthings of the entire household,
while she and their father found the sweetest joy in caring for them and
watching over and assisting the development of their natures, mental,
moral, and physical. Their children would never be left to the care and
training of servants, however faithful and devoted.
Nor would those of Mr. Dinsmore and Rose. In the esteem of these wise,
Christian parents the God-given charge of their own offspring took
undoubted precedence of the claims of society.
Thus placidly passed the summer and autumn, the monotony of their
secluded life relieved by the enjoyment of literary pursuits, and varied
by walks, rides, drives, and an occasional sail, in bright, still weather,
over the waters of the lovely bay.
Elsie entered the drawing-room one morning, with the little daughter in
her arms. The child was beautiful as a cherub, the mother sweet and fair
as ever, nor a day older in appearance than while yet a girl in her
father's house.
She found him sole occupant of the room, pacing to and fro with downcast
eyes and troubled countenance. But looking up quickly at the sound of her
footsteps he came hastily towards her.
"Come to grandpa," he said, holding out his hands to the little one; then
as he took her in his arms, "My dear daughter, if I had any authority over
you now----"
"Papa," she interrupted, blushing deeply, while the quick tears sprang to
her eyes, "you hurt me! Please don't speak so. I am as ready now as ever
to obey your slightest behest."
"Then, my darling, don't carry this child. You are not strong, and I fear
will do yourself an injury. She can walk very well now, and if necessary
to have her carried, call upon me, her father, or one of the servants;
Aunt Chloe, Uncle Joe, Dinah, one or another is almost sure to be at
hand."
"I will try to follow out your wishes, papa. Edward has said the same
thing to me, and no doubt you are right; but it is so sweet to have her in
my arms, and so hard to refuse when she asks to be taken up."
"You mustn't ask mamma to carry you," Mr. Dinsmore said to the child,
caressing her tenderly as he spoke; "poor mamma is not strong, and you
will make her sick."
They had seated themselves side by side upon a sofa. The little one turned
a piteous look upon her mother, and with a quivering lip and fast-filling
eyes, said, "Mamma sick? Elsie tiss her, make her well?"
"No, my precious pet, mother isn't sick; so don't cry," Elsie answered,
receiving the offered kiss, as the babe left her grandfather's knee and
crept to her; then the soft little hands patted her on the cheeks and the
chubby arms clung about her neck.
But catching sight, through the open window, of her father coming up the
garden walk, wee Elsie hastily let go her hold, slid to the floor and ran
to meet him.
Mr. Dinsmore seemed again lost in gloomy thought.
"Papa, dear, what is it? What troubles you so?" asked Elsie, moving closer
to him, and leaning affectionately on his shoulder, while the soft eyes
sought his with a wistful, anxious expression.
He put his arm about her, and just touching her cheek with his lips,
heaved a deep sigh. "The papers bring us bad news. Lincoln is elected."
"Ah well, let us not borrow trouble, papa; perhaps he may prove a pretty
good president after all."
"Just what I think," remarked Mr. Travilla, who had come in with his
little girl in his arms at the moment of Mr. Dinsmore's announcement, and
seated himself on his wife's other side; "let us wait and see. All may go
right with our country yet."
Mr. Dinsmore shook his head sadly. "I wish I could think so, but in the
past history of all republics whenever section has arrayed itself against
section the result has been either a peaceful separation, or civil war;
nor can we hope to be an exception to the rule."
"I should mourn over either," said Elsie, "I cannot bear to contemplate
the dismemberment of our great, glorious old Union. Foreign nations would
never respect either portion as they do the undivided whole."
"No; and I can't believe either section can be so mad as to go that
length," remarked her husband, fondling his baby daughter as he spoke.
"The North, of course, does not desire a separation; but if the South
goes, will be pretty sure to let her go peaceably."
"I doubt it, Travilla; and even if a peaceable separation should be
allowed at first, so many causes of contention would result (such as the
control of the navigation of the Mississippi, the refusal of the North to
restore runaway negroes, etc., etc.), that it would soon come to blows."
"Horace, you frighten me," said Rose, who had come in while they were
talking.
The color faded from Elsie's cheek, and a shudder ran over her, as she
turned eagerly to hear her husband reply.
"Why cross the bridge before we come to it, Dinsmore?" he answered
cheerily, meeting his wife's anxious look with one so fond and free from
care, that her heart grew light; "surely there'll be no fighting where
there is no yoke of oppression to cast off. There can be no effect
without a cause."
"The accursed lust of power on the part of a few selfish, unprincipled
men, may invent a cause, and for the carrying out of their own ambitious
schemes, they may lead the people to believe and act upon it. No one
proposes to interfere with our institution where it already exists--even
the Republican party has emphatically denied any such intention--yet the
hue and cry has been raised that slavery will be abolished by the incoming
administration, arms put into the hands of the blacks, and a servile
insurrection will bring untold horrors to the hearths and homes of the
South."
"Oh, dreadful, dreadful!" cried Rose.
"But, my dear, there is really no such danger: the men (unscrupulous
politicians) do not believe it themselves; but they want power, and as
they could never succeed in getting the masses to rebel to compass their
selfish ends, they have invented this falsehood and are deceiving the
people with it."
"Don't put all the blame on the one side, Dinsmore," said Mr. Travilla.
"No; that would be very unfair. The framers of our constitution looked to
gradual emancipation to rid us of this blot on our escutcheon, this
palpable inconsistency between our conduct and our political creed.
"It did so in a number of States, and probably would ere this in all, but
for the fierce attacks of a few ultra-abolitionists, who were more zealous
to pull the mote out of their brother's eye than the beam out of their
own, and so exasperated the Southern people by their wholesale abuse and
denunciations, that all thought of emancipation was given up.
"It is human nature to cling the tighter to anything another attempts to
force from you; even though you may have felt ready enough to give it up
of your own free will."
"Very true," said Travilla, "and Garrison and his crew would have been at
better work repenting of their own sins, than denouncing those of their
neighbors."
"But, papa, you don't think it can come to war, a civil war, in our dear
country? the best land the sun shines on; and where there is none of the
oppression that makes a wise man mad!"
"I fear it, daughter, I greatly fear it; but we will cast this care, as
well as all others, upon Him who 'doeth according to His will, in the army
of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth.'"
What a winter of uncertainty and gloom to Americans, both at home and
abroad, was that of 1860-'61. Each mail brought to our anxious friends in
Naples news calculated to depress them more and more in view of the
calamities that seemed to await their loved land.
State after State was seceding and seizing upon United States property
within its limits--forts, arsenals, navy-yards, custom-houses, mints,
ships, armories, and military stores--while the government at Washington
remained inactive, doubtless fearing to precipitate the civil strife.
Still Mr. Travilla, Rose, and Elsie, like many lovers of the Union, both
North and South, clung to the hope that war might yet be averted.
At length came the news of the formation of the Confederacy: Davis's
election as its president; then of the firing upon the Star of the West,
an unarmed vessel bearing troops and supplies to Fort Sumter.
"Well, the first gun has been fired," said Mr. Dinsmore, with a sigh, as
he laid down the paper from which he had been reading the account.
"But perhaps it may be the only one, papa," remarked Elsie hopefully.
"I wish it may," replied her father, rising and beginning to pace to and
fro, as was his wont when excited or disturbed.
The next news from America was looked for with intense anxiety. It was
delayed longer than usual; and at length a heavy mail came, consisting of
letters and Capers of various dates from the twelfth to the twentieth of
April, and bringing news of the most exciting character in the fall of
Fort Sumter: the call of the president for seventy-five thousand troops to
defend the capital, the seizure of the United States armory at Harper's
Ferry by the Confederates; the attack on the Massachusetts troops while
passing through Baltimore, and lastly the seizure of Norfolk Navy-yard.
Dinner was just over at the villa, the family still chatting over the
dessert, children and all in an unusually merry mood, when this mail was
brought in by a servant, and handed to Mr. Dinsmore.
He promptly distributed it, took up the paper of the earliest date, and
glancing over the headings, exclaimed, with a groan, "It has come!"
"What?" queried the others, in excited chorus.
"War! My country! oh, my country! Fort Sumter has fallen after a terrific
bombardment of thirty-six hours." And he proceeded to read aloud the
account of the engagement, the others listening in almost breathless
silence.
"And they have dared to fire upon the flag! the emblem of our nationality,
the symbol of Revolutionary glory; to tear it down and trample it in the
dust!" cried Mr. Travilla, pushing back his chair in unwonted excitement;
"shameful, shameful!"
Tears were rolling down Elsie's cheeks, and Rose's eyes were full.
"Let us adjourn to the library and learn together all these papers and
letters can tell us," said Mr. Dinsmore, rising. "'Twill be better so; we
shall need the support of each other's sympathy."
He led the way and the rest followed.
The papers were examined first, by the gentlemen, now the one and now the
other reading an article aloud, the excitement and distress of all
increasing with each item of intelligence in regard to public affairs.
Rose and Elsie opened their letters, and now and then, in the short pauses
of the reading, cast a hasty glance at their contents.
Elsie's were from her Aunt Adelaide, Walter, and Enna. Rose's from her
mother, Richard, May, and Sophie.
The last seemed written in a state of distraction.
"Rose, Rose, I think I shall go crazy! my husband and his brothers have
enlisted in the Confederate army. They, Harry especially, are furious at
the North and full of fight; and I know my brothers at home will enlist on
the other side; and what if they should meet and kill each other! Oh,
dear! oh, dear! my heart is like to break!
"And what is it all about? I can't see that anybody's oppressed; but when
I tell Harry so, he just laughs and says, 'No, we're not going to wait
till they have time to rivet our chains,' 'But,' I say, 'I've had neither
sight nor sound of chains; wait at least till you hear their clank.' Then
he laughs again, but says soothingly, 'Never mind, little wife; don't
distress yourself; the North won't fight; or if they do try it, will soon
give it up,' But I know they won't give up: they wouldn't be Americans if
they did.
"Arthur and Walter Dinsmore were here yesterday, and Arthur is worse than
Harry a great deal; actually told me he wouldn't hesitate to shoot down
any or all of my brothers, if he met them in Federal uniform. Walter is
almost silent on the subject, and has not yet enlisted. Arthur taunted him
with being for the Union, and said if he was quite sure of it he'd shoot
him, or help hang him to the nearest tree.
"Oh, Rose! pray, pray that this dreadful war may be averted!"
Rose felt almost stunned with horror as she read; but her tears fell fast
as she hurriedly perused the contents of the other three, learning from
them that Richard, Harold, and Fred had already enlisted, and Edward
would do the same should the war continue long.
"My heart is torn in two!" she cried, looking piteously up in her
husband's face, with the tears streaming down her own.
"What is it, my darling?" he asked, coming to her and taking her cold
hands in his.
"Oh my country! my country! My brothers, too--and yours! they are pitted
against each other--have enlisted in the opposing armies. Oh, Horace,
Horace! what ever shall we do?"
"God reigns, dearest; let that comfort you and all of us," he said, in
moved tones. "It is dreadful, dreadful! Brothers, friends, neighbors, with
hearts full of hatred and ready to imbrue their hands in each other's
blood and for what? That a few ambitious, selfish, unscrupulous men may
retain and increase their power; for this they are ready to shed the blood
of tens of thousands of their own countrymen, and bring utter ruin upon
our beautiful, sunny South."
"Oh, papa, surely not!" cried Elsie; "these papers say the war cannot last
more than three months."
"They forget that it will be American against American. If it is over in
three years, 'twill be shorter than I expect."
Elsie was weeping, scarcely less distressed than Rose.
"We will, at least, hope for better things, little wife," her husband
said, drawing her to him with caressing motion. "What do your letters
say?"
"They are full of the war; it is the all-absorbing theme with them, as
with us. Aunt Adelaide's is very sad. Her heart clings to the South, as
ours do; yet, like us, she has a strong love for the old Union.
"And she's very found of her husband, who, she says, is very strong for
the Government; and then, besides her distress at the thought that he will
enlist, her heart is torn with anguish because her brothers and his are in
the opposing armies.
"Oh, Edward! isn't it terrible? Civil war in our dear land! So many whom
we love on both sides!"
There was a moment of sorrowful silence. Then her father asked, "What does
Enna say?"
"She is very bitter, papa: speaks with great contempt of the North; exults
over the fall of Fort Sumter and the seizure of United States property;
glories in the war-spirit of Dick and Arthur, and sneers at poor Walter
because he is silent and sad, and declines, for the present at least, to
take any part in the strife. Grandpa, she says, and his mother, too, are
almost ready to turn him out of the house; for they are as hot
secessionists as can be found anywhere.
"I have a letter from Walter too, papa. He writes in a very melancholy
strain; hints mildly at the treatment he receives at home; says he can't
bear the idea of fighting against the old flag, and still less the old
friends he has at the North, and wishes he was with us or anywhere out of
the country, that he might escape being forced to take part in the
quarrel."
"Poor fellow!" sighed Mr. Dinsmore. "Ah, I have a letter here from my
father that I have not yet opened."
He took it from the table as he spoke. His face darkened as he read, the
frown and stern expression reminding Elsie of some of the scenes in her
early days; but he handed the missive to Rose, remarking, in a calm, quiet
tone, "My father expects me to be as strong a secessionist as himself."
"But you're for the Union, papa, are you not?" asked Horace. "You'd never
fire upon the Stars and Stripes--the dear old flag that protects us here?"
"No, my son. I love the dear South, which has always been my home, better
far than any other of the sections; yet I love the whole better than a
part."
"So do I!" exclaimed Rose warmly; "and if Pennsylvania, my own native
State, should rebel against the general government, I'd say, 'Put her down
with a strong hand'; and just so with any State or section, Eastern,
Northern, Middle or Western. I've always been taught that my country is
the Union; and I think that teaching has been general through the North."
"It is what my mother taught me, and what I have taught my children," said
Mr. Dinsmore; "not to love the South or my native State less, but the
Union more. I was very young when I lost my mother; but that, and some
other of her teachings, I have never forgotten."
"There is, I believe, a strong love for the old Union throughout the whole
South," remarked Mr. Travilla; "there would be no rebellion among the
masses there, but for the deceptions practised upon them by their leaders
and politicians; and it is they who have been whirling the States out of
the Union, scarce allowing the people a voice in the matter."
"I don't wonder at the indignation of the North over the insult to the
flag," said Elsie; "nor the furor for it that is sweeping over the land."
"I'd like to be there to help fling it to the breeze," cried Horace
excitedly; "and to see how gay the streets must be with it flying
everywhere. Yes, and I'd like to help fight. Papa, am I not old enough?
mayn't I go?"
"No, foolish boy, you are much too young, not yet fourteen. And suppose
you were old enough, would you wish to fight your uncles? kill one of
them, perhaps? Uncle Walter, for instance?"
"Oh papa, no, no, no! I wouldn't for the world hurt one hair of dear Uncle
Wal's head; no, not if he were the hottest kind of secessionist."
"Kill Uncle Wal! why Horace, how could you ever think of such a thing?"
exclaimed Rosebud. "And mamma and sister Elsie, why are you both crying
so?"
All the afternoon the elders of the family remained together, talking over
the news--they could scarce think or speak of anything else: very grave
and sad all of them, the ladies now and then dropping a tear or two while
each paper was carefully scanned again and again, lest some item on the
all-absorbing subject might have been overlooked, and every letter that
had any bearing upon it read and re-read till its contents had been fully
digested.
May's gave a graphic account of the excitement in Philadelphia; the
recruiting and drilling of troops, the making of flags, the constant,
universal singing of patriotic songs, etc., then closed with the story of
the sorrowful parting with the dear brothers who might never return from
the battle-field.
It had been a bright, warm day, but at evening the sea breeze came in cool
and fresh; thin clouds were scudding across the sky, hiding the stars and
giving but a faint and fitful view of the young moon that hung, a bright
crescent, amid their murky folds.
Mr. Dinsmore was pacing slowly to and fro upon an open colonnade
overlooking the bay. He walked with bent head and folded arms, as one in
painful thought.
A slight girlish figure came gliding towards him from the open doorway.
"Papa, dear, dear papa," murmured a voice tremulous with emotion, "you are
very sad to-night; would that your daughter could comfort you!"
He paused in his walk, took her in his arms and folded her close to his
heart.
"Thank you, darling. Yes, I am sad, as we all are. Would that I could
comfort you, and keep all sorrow from your life. Nay, that is not a right
wish, for 'whom the Lord _loveth_ He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son
whom He receiveth.' 'As many as I love I rebuke and chasten.'"
"Yes, papa, those words make me more than willing to bear trials. But oh,
how dreadful, how dreadful, to know that our countrymen are already
engaged in spilling each other's blood!"
"Yes, that is harrowing enough; but that it should be also our near and
dear relations! Elsie, I am thinking of my young brothers: they are not
Christians; nor is my poor old father. How can they bear the trials just
at hand? How unfit they are to meet death, especially in the sudden, awful
form in which it is like to meet those who seek the battle-field.
Daughter, you must help me pray for them, pleading the promise, 'If two of
you shall agree.'"
"I will, papa; and oh, I do feel deeply for them. Poor Walter and poor,
poor grandpa. I think he loves you best of all his sons, papa; but it
would be very terrible to him to have the others killed or maimed."
"Yes, it would indeed. Arthur is his mother's idol, and I dare say she now
almost regrets that he has now so entirely recovered from his lameness as
to be fit for the army."