THE STORM CENTER
Socola hastened, through Jennie, to cultivate the acquaintance of
Senator Davis.
"You'll be delighted with Mrs. Davis, too," the girl informed him with
enthusiasm. "His second love affair you know--this time, late in life,
he married the young accomplished granddaughter of Governor Howell of
New Jersey. Their devotion is beautiful--"
The train had barely pulled out of the station before Socola found
himself in a delightful conversation with the Senator. To his amazement
he discovered that the Southerner was a close student of European
statesmanship and well informed on the conditions of modern Italy.
"I am delighted beyond measure, Signor," he said earnestly, "to learn of
the interest of your King in the South. I have long felt that Cavour was
one of the greatest statesmen and diplomats of the world. His
achievement in establishing the Kingdom of Sardinia in the face of the
bitter rivalries and ambitions of Europe, to say nothing of the power of
Rome, was in itself enough to mark him as the foremost man of his age."
"The King has great ambitions, Senator. Very shortly his title will be
King of Italy. He dreams of uniting all Italians."
"And if it is possible, the Piedmontese are the people ordained for
leadership in that sublime work--"
He looked thoughtfully out of the window at the Virginia hills and
Socola determined to change the conversation. He was fairly well
informed of the affairs in the little Kingdom on whose throne young
Victor Emmanuel sat, but this man evidently knew the philosophy of its
history as well as the facts. A question or two with his keen eye boring
through him might lead to an unpleasant situation.
"Your family are all with you, Senator?" he asked pleasantly.
Instantly the clouds lifted from the pale, thoughtful face.
"Yes--I've three darling babies. I wish you to meet Mrs. Davis--come,
they are in the next car."
In a moment the statesman had forgotten the storm of revolution. He was
laughing and playing with his children. However stern and high his
uncompromising opinions might be on public questions, he was wax in the
hands of the two lovely boys who climbed over him and the vivacious
little girl who slipped her arms about his neck. His respite from care
was brief. At the first important stop in Virginia a dense crowd had
packed the platforms. Their cries throbbed with anything but the spirit
of delay and compromise.
"Davis!"
"Hurrah for Jefferson Davis!"
"Speech--speech!"
"Davis!"
"Speech!"
There was something tense and compelling in the tones of these cries.
They rang as bugle calls to battle. In their hum and murmur there was
more than curiosity--more than the tribute of a people to their leader.
There was in the very sound the electric rush of the first crash of the
approaching storm. The man inside who had led soldiers to death on
battle fields felt it instantly and the smile died on his thin lips. The
roar outside his car window was not the cry of a mob echoing the
sentiments of a leader. It was the shrill imperial cry of a rising
people creating their leaders.
From the moment he bowed his head and lifted his hand over the crowd
that greeted him, hopeless sorrow filled his soul.
War was inevitable.
These people did not realize it. But he saw it now in all its tragic
import. He had intended to counsel patience, moderation and delay.
Before the hot breath of the storm he felt already in his face such
advice was a waste of words. He would tell them the simple truth. He
could do most good in that way. These fiery, impulsive Southern people
were tired of argument, tired of compromise, tired of delay. They were
reared in the faith that their States were sovereign. And these
Virginians had good reason for their faith. The bankers of Europe had
but yesterday refused to buy the bonds of the United States Government
unless countersigned by the State of Virginia!
These people not only believed in the sovereignty of their States and
their right to withdraw from the Union when they saw fit, but they could
not conceive the madness of the remaining States attempting to use force
to hold them. They knew, too, that millions of Northern voters were as
clear on that point as the people of the South.
Their spokesman, Horace Greeley, in _The Tribune_ had said again and
again:
"If the Southern States are mad enough to withdraw from the Union, they
must go. We cannot prevent it. Let our erring sisters go in peace."
The people before him believed that Horace Greeley's paper represented
the North in this utterance. Davis knew that it was not true.
In a flash of clear soul vision he saw the inevitable horror of the
coming struggle and determined to tell the people so.
The message he delivered was a distinct shock. He not only told them in
tones of deep and tender emotion that war was inevitable, but that it
would be long and bloody.
"We'll lick 'em in two months!" a voice yelled in protest and the crowd
cheered.
The leader shook his fine head.
"Don't deceive yourselves, my friends. War once begun, no man can
predict its end--"
"It won't begin!" another cried.
"You have convinced me to-day that it is now inevitable."
"The Yankees won't fight!" shouted a big fellow in front.
The speaker bent his gaze on the stalwart figure in remonstrance.
"You never made a worse mistake in your life, my friend. I warn you--I
know these Yankees. Once in it they'll fight with grim, dogged, sullen,
unyielding courage. We're men of the same blood. They live North, you
South--that's all the difference."
At every station the same scene was enacted. The crowd rushed around his
car with the sudden sweep of a whirlwind, and left for their homes with
grave, thoughtful faces.
By three o'clock in the afternoon he was thoroughly exhausted by the
strain. The eager crowds had sapped his last ounce of vitality.
The conductor of the train looked at him with pity and whispered:
"I'll save you at the next station."
The leader smiled his gratitude for the sympathy but wondered how it
could be done.
At the next stop, the Senator had just taken his position on the rear
platform, lifted his hand for silence and said:
"Friends and fellow citizens--"
The engine suddenly blew off steam with hiss and roar and when it ceased
the train pulled out with a jerk amid the shouts and protests of the
crowd. The grateful speaker waved his hand in regretful but happy
farewell.
The conductor repeated the trick for three stations until the exhausted
speaker had recovered his strength and then allowed him a few brief
remarks at each stop.
From the moment the train entered the State of Mississippi, grim,
earnest men in groups of two, three, four and a dozen stepped on board,
saluted their Chief and took their seats.
When the engine pulled into the station at Jackson a full brigade of
volunteer soldiers had taken their places in the ranks.
The Governor and state officials met their leader and grasped his hand.
"You have been commissioned, Senator," the Governor began eagerly, "as
Major-General in command of the forces of the State of Mississippi. Four
Brigadier-Generals have been appointed and await your assignment for
duty."
The tall figure of the hero of Buena Vista suddenly stiffened.
"I thank you. Governor, for the high honor conferred on me. No service
could be more congenial to my feelings at this moment."
The Governor waved his hand at the crowd of silent waiting men. "Your
men are ready--the first question is the purchase of arms. I think a
stand of 75,000 will be sufficient for all contingencies?"
The Senator spoke with emphasis:
"The limit of your purchases should be our power to pay--"
"You can't mean it!" the Governor exclaimed.
"I repeat it--the limit of your purchase of arms should be the power to
pay. I say this to every State in the South. We shall need all we can
get and many more I fear."
The Governor laughed.
"General, you overrate our risks!"
"On the other hand," Davis continued earnestly, "we are sure to
underestimate them at every turn."
He paused, overcome with emotion.
"A great war is impending, Governor, whose end no man can foresee. We
are not prepared for it. We have no arms, we have no ammunition and we
have no establishments to manufacture them. The South has never realized
and does not now believe that the North will fight her on the issue of
secession. They do not understand the silent growth of the power of
centralization which has changed the opinions of the North under the
teaching of Abolition fanatics--"
Again he paused, overcome.
"God help us!" he continued. "War is a terrible calamity even when waged
against aliens and strangers--our people are mad. They know not what
they do!"
The new Commander hurried to Briarfield, his plantation home, to
complete his preparations for a long absence.
Socola on a sudden impulse asked the honor of accompanying him. It was
granted without question and with cordial hospitality.
It was an opportunity not to be lost. An intimate view of this man in
his home might be of the utmost importance. He promised Jennie to hasten
to Fairview when he had spent two days at Briarfield. Mrs. Barton was
glad of the opportunity to set her house in order for her charming and
interesting guest.
The Davis plantation was a distinct shock to his fixed New England ideas
of the hellish institution of Slavery.
The devotion of these simple black men and women to their master was not
only genuine, it was pathetic. He had never before conceived the abject
depths to which a human being might sink in contentment with chains.
And he had come to break chains! These poor ignorant blacks kissed the
hand that bound them and called him their best friend.
The man they called master actually moved among them, a minister of love
and mercy. He advised the negroes about the care of their families in
his long absence. He talked as a Hebrew Patriarch to his children. He
urged the younger men and women to look after the old and helpless.
He was particularly solicitous about Bob, the oldest man on the place.
Over and over again he enumerated the comforts he thought he might need
and made provision to supply them. He sent him enough cochineal flannel
for his rheumatism to wrap him four-ply deep. For Rhinah, his wife, he
ordered enough flannel blankets for two families.
"Is there anything else you can think of, Uncle Bob?" he asked kindly.
The old man scratched his gray head and hesitated, looked into his
master's face, smiled and said:
"I _would_ like one er dem rockin' cheers outen de big house, Marse
Jeff.--yassah!"
"Of course, you shall have it. Come right up, you and Rhinah, and pick
out the two you like best."
With suppressed laughter Socola watched the old negroes try each chair
in the hallway and finally select the two best rockers in the house.
The Southern leader was obviously careworn and unhappy. Socola found his
heart unconsciously going out to him in sympathy.
Assuming carefully his attitude of foreign detached interest, the young
man sought to draw him out.
"You have given up all hope of adjustment and reunion with the North?"
he asked.
"No," was the thoughtful reply, "not until the first blood is spilled."
"Your people must see, Senator, that secession will imperil the
existence of their three thousand millions of dollars invested in
slaves?"
"Certainly they see it," was the quick answer. "Slavery can never
survive the first shot of war, no matter which side wins. If the North
wins, we must free them, or else maintain a standing army on our borders
for all time. It would be unthinkable. Rivers are bad boundaries. We
could have no others. Fools have said and will continue to say that we
are fighting to establish a slave empire. Nothing could be further from
the truth. We are seeking to find that peace and tranquillity outside
the Union we have not been able to enjoy for the past forty years
inside. If the Southern States enact a Constitution of their own, they
will merely reaffirm the Constitution of their fathers with no essential
change. The North is leading a revolution, not the South.
"Not one man in twenty down here owns a slave. The South would never
fight to maintain Slavery. We know that it is doomed. We simply demand
as the sons of the men who created this Republic, equal rights under its
laws. If we fight, it will be for our independence as freemen that we
may maintain those rights."
"I must confess, sir," Socola replied with carefully modulated voice,
"that I fail to see as a student from without, why, if Slavery is doomed
and your leaders realize that fact, a compromise without bloodshed
would not be possible?"
"If Slavery were the only issue, it would be possible--although as a
proud and sensitive people we propose to be the judge of the time when
we see fit to emancipate our slaves. Abolition fanatics, whose fathers
sold their slaves to us, can't dictate to the South on such a _moral_
issue."
"I see--your pride is involved."
"Not merely pride--our self-respect. In 1831 before the Northern
Abolitionists began their crusade of violence there were one hundred
four abolition societies in America--ninety-eight of them in the South
and only six in the entire North. But the South grew rich. At the bottom
of our whole trouble lies the issue of sectional power. New England
threatened to secede from the Union when we added the Territory of
Louisiana to our domain, out of which we have carved seven great States.
Slavery at that time was not an issue. Sectional rivalry and sectional
hatred antedates even our fight against England for our freedom.
Washington was compelled to warn his soldiers when they entered New
England to avoid the appearance of offense. The Governor of
Massachusetts refused to call on George Washington, the first President
of the Union, when he visited Boston.
"And mark you, back of the sectional issue looms a vastly bigger
one--whether the Union is a Republic of republics or a Centralized
Empire. The millions of foreigners who have poured into the North from
Europe during the past thirty years, until their white population
outnumbers ours four to one, know nothing and care nothing about the
Constitution of our fathers. They know nothing and care nothing for the
principles on which the Federal Union was founded. They came from
empires. They think as their fathers thought in Europe. And they are
driving the sons of the old Revolution in the North into the acceptance
of the ideas of centralized power. If this tendency continues the
President of the United States will become the most autocratic ruler of
the world. The South stands for the sovereignty of the States as the
only bulwark against the growth of this irresponsible centralized
despotism. The Democratic party of the North, thank God, yet stands with
us on that issue. Our only possible hope of success in case of war lies
in this fact--"
Socola suddenly started.
"Quite so--I see--The North may be divided, the South will be a unit."
"Exactly; they'll fight as one man if they must."
The longer Socola talked with this pale, earnest, self-poised man, the
deeper grew the conviction of his utter sincerity, his singleness of
purpose, his pure and lofty patriotism. His conception of the man and
his aims had completely changed and with this change of estimate came
the deeper conviction of the vastness of the tragedy toward which the
Nation was being hurled by some hidden, resistless power. He had come
into the South with a sense of moral superiority and the consciousness
not only of the righteousness of his cause but the certainty that God
would swiftly confound the enemies of the Union. He had waked with a
shock to the certainty that they were entering the arena of the
mightiest conflict of the century.
He girded his soul anew for the rôle he had chosen to play. The
character of this Southern leader held for him an endless fascination.
It was part of his mission to study him and he lost no opportunity. The
greatest surprise he received during his stay was the day of the
election of President at Montgomery. He had expected to be present at
this meeting of the Southern Convention but, hearing that it would be
held behind closed doors, had decided on his visit to Briarfield.
A messenger dashed up to the gate, sprang from his horse, hurried into
the garden, thrust a telegram into the Senator's hand.
He opened it without haste, and read it slowly. His face went white and
he crushed the piece of paper with a sudden gesture of despair. For a
moment he forgot his guest, his head was raised as if in prayer and from
the depths came the agonizing cry of a soul in mortal anguish:
"Lord, God, if it be possible let this cup pass from me!"
A moment of dazed silence and he turned to Socola. He spoke as a judge
pronouncing his own sentence of death. His voice trembled with despair
and his lips twitched with pitiful suffering.
"I have been elected President of the Southern Confederacy!"
He handed the telegram to Socola, who scanned it with thrilling
interest. He had half expected this announcement from the first. What he
could not dream was the remarkable way in which the Southern leader
would receive it.
"You are a foreigner, Signor. I may be permitted to speak freely to you.
You are a man of culture and sympathy and you can understand me. As God
is my judge, I have neither desired nor expected this position. I took
particular pains to forestall and make it impossible. But it has come. I
am not a politician. I have never stooped to their tricks. I cannot lie
and smile and bend to low chicanery. I hate a fool and I cannot hedge
and trim and be all things to all men. I have never been a demagogue.
I'm too old to begin. Other men are better suited to this position than
I--"
He paused, overcome. Socola studied him with surprise.
"Permit me to say, sir," he ventured disinterestedly, "that such a
spirit is evidence that your people have risen to the occasion and that
their choice may be an inspiration."
The leader's eye suddenly pierced his guest's.
"God knows what is best. It may be His hand. It may be that I must bow
to His will--"
Again he paused and looked wistfully at Socola's youthful face.
"You are young, Signor--you do not know what it is to yield the last
ambition of life! I have given all to my country for the past years. I
have sacrificed health and wealth and every desire of my soul--peace and
contentment here with those I love! When I saw this mighty struggle
coming, I feared a tragic end for my people. I fear it now. The man who
leads her armies will win immortality no matter what the fate of her
cause--I've dreamed of this, Signor--but they've nailed me to the
cross!"
He called his negroes together and made them an affectionate speech.
They responded with deep expressions of their devotion and their faith.
With the greatest sorrow of life darkening his soul he left next day for
his inauguration at Montgomery.