JENNIE'S RECRUIT
Socola lost no time in applying for a position. The one place of all
others he wished was a berth in the War Department. It was useless to
try for it. No foreigner had ever been admitted to tiny position of
trust in this wing of the Confederate Government.
He would try for a position in the Department of State. His supposed
experience in the Diplomatic Service and his mastery of two languages
besides the English would be in his favor. The struggle for recognition
from the powers of Europe was the card he could play. Once placed in the
Department of State he would make the acquaintance of every clerk and
subordinate who possessed a secret of the slightest value to his cause.
He wished to enter the Department of State for another reason. He had
learned from absolutely reliable sources that Judah P. Benjamin, the
present Secretary of War, was slated for Secretary of State in the new
Cabinet which would be named when Jefferson Davis was inaugurated as
permanent President. He knew Benjamin to be the ablest man in the
Cabinet, the one man on whose judgment Davis leaned with greatest
confidence. It would he of immense value to his cause to be in daily
touch with this man.
Fortunately he had mastered shorthand the last year of his stay in
Washington. This accomplishment, rare in the South, would be an
additional argument with which to secure his appointment.
Jennie had promised to accompany him to the office of the President and
add her voice to his plea. She had quite won the heart of the badgered
chieftain of the Confederacy by her steady loyalty to his
administration. The malignant opposition of Senator Barton was
notorious. This opposition at the moment had become peculiarly
vindictive and embarrassing. The fall of Fort Donelson and the loss of
Nashville had precipitated a storm of hostile criticism. The fierce
junta of malcontents in the Confederate Congress were eager to seize on
any excuse to attack the President. They were now demanding the removal
of Albert Sidney Johnston from his command. Davis knew that his
commanding general in Tennessee was the greatest soldier of his
time--and that all he needed was a single opportunity to demonstrate his
genius. He refused with scorn to sacrifice such a man to public clamor.
At the White House reception the night before he had heard Jennie Barton
stoutly defending him against his accusers who demanded the head of
General Johnston.
He had passed her later in the evening, pressed her hand and whispered:
"If our men were only as loyal! Ask anything you will of me--to the half
of my kingdom."
Jennie wished to put this impulsive promise to the test. She would see
that Socola secured his appointment. This brilliant young recruit for
the South was her gift to her country and she was proud of him. It had
all come about too quickly for her to analyze her feelings. She only
realized that she felt a sense of tender proprietary interest in him.
That he could render valuable service she did not doubt for a moment.
She had told him to meet her at the statue of Washington in the Capitol
Square. They would wait there for the appearance of the President and
follow him. His habits were simple and democratic. He walked daily from
the Confederate White House to the Capitol grounds, crossed the Square
and at the foot of the hill entered his office in the Custom House on
Main Street, unaccompanied by an escort of any kind.
Anybody on earth could approach and speak to him. The humbler the man or
woman, the easier the approach was always made.
Socola was waiting at the big group of statuary contemplating the lines
of its fine workmanship with curious interest.
Jennie startled him from a reverie:
"You like him?"
The white teeth gleamed in pleasant surprise.
"The father of his country?--Yes--I like him. It's going to be my
country, too, you know."
They strolled through the grounds and watched the squirrels leap from
the limbs of a great tree to the swaying boughs of the next.
A tall awkward trooper on whose hat was the sign of a North Carolina
regiment toiled painfully up the hill slightly under the influence of
whisky. Socola saw that he was navigating the steep with difficulty and
turned into a by-path to give him a free passage. It was never pleasant
to meet a man under the influence of liquor in the presence of ladies.
They had taken but a few steps along the little path when the quick firm
military tread of the President was heard.
They turned just in time to see him encounter the toiling trooper from
North Carolina.
The soldier's jaw suddenly dropped and his eyes kindled with joy. He
stood squarely in the President's way and laughed good naturedly.
"Say--Mister!"
"Well, sir?"
"Say--now--ain't yo' name Jeff'son Davis?"
The President nodded in a friendly way.
"It is."
"I knowed it," the trooper laughed. "By Gum, I knowed it, the minute I
laid my eyes on ye--"
He moved closer with insinuating joy.
"I bet ye could never guess how I knowed it--could ye?"
"Hardly--"
"Ye want me ter tell ye?" The trooper laughed again. "I knowed ye the
very minute I seed ye--'cause ye look thez ezactly like a Confederate
postage stamp! I know 'em 'cause I've licked 'em!"
The President laughed and passed on his way without looking back.
They found a crowd of cranks and inventors waiting to see him. He had
the same weakness as Abraham Lincoln for this class of men. He never
allowed a clerk to turn one way without his personal attention. His
interest in all scientific problems was keen, and he had always
maintained the open mind of youth to all inventions.
Socola and Jennie strolled through the city for an hour until the crank
levee was over. The President's secretary, Burton Harrison, promised
them an interview at the end of that time. He ushered them into the room
under the impression that all the callers had gone. He had overlooked a
modest, timid youth who had quietly approached the Chief Executive's
desk.
They paused until he was at leisure. The moment was one of illumination
for Socola. He saw a trait of character in the Southern leader whose
existence he had not suspected.
"My name is Ashe--Mr. President, S. A. Ashe," the youth began.
Davis bowed gravely.
"Have a seat, sir."
The boy sat down and twiddled his cap nervously.
"I've come to ask an appointment of some kind in the regular army of the
Confederacy. I'm an officer of the North Carolina militia. I wish to
enter the regular army."
The Confederate chieftain looked at the peculiarly youthful, beardless
face. He couldn't be more than eighteen from appearances.
"I'm afraid you're too young, sir," he said slowly, shaking his head.
The boy drew himself up with a touch of wounded pride.
"Why, Mr. Davis, I voted for you for President last November."
Instantly the Chief Executive rose, blushing his apology. He laid his
hand on the boy's shoulder and spoke with the utmost deference.
"I beg your pardon, sir. I should have been more observant and
thoughtful. I was very much like you when I was a boy. It was a long
time before I had any whiskers myself."
With a friendly smile he touched his thin beard.
He sent the young man away happy with his promise of consideration. That
he should have asked this beardless boy's pardon in so pointed a manner
Socola thought remarkable. That the Chief Executive of nine million
people should blush suddenly over such a trifle was the flash that
revealed a great soul.
The President advanced and gave Jennie both his hands in cordial
greeting.
"I've brought you a recruit, sir," the girl cried with a merry laugh.
"Indeed?"
"I have resigned my commission with the Sardinian Ministry, Mr.
President, and wish to offer my services to the South."
"We need every true friend the world can send us, Signor--I thank you--"
"I wish, sir," Socola hastened to say, "to render the most efficient
service possible. I have no training as a soldier. I have experience as
a diplomat. I speak three languages and I am an expert stenographer--"
"I'm sorry, Signor," the President interrupted, "that I have no vacancy
in my office--or I should be pleased to have you here."
"Perhaps your State Department may find me useful?"
"No doubt they can. I'll give you a letter to the Secretary recommending
your appointment."
He seated himself at once, wrote the letter and handed it to Socola.
Jennie thanked him and, with a warm pressure of his hand, passed into
the hall with Socola.
At the outer door Burton Harrison overtook them:
"Just a moment, Miss Barton. The President wishes to ask you a
question."
Davis drew her to the window.
"I should have been more careful of the credentials of our friend
perhaps, Miss Jennie. You can vouch for his loyalty?"
"Absolutely."
She had scarcely uttered the word in tones of positive conviction before
she realized the startling fact that she had spoken under the impulse of
some strange intuition and not from her knowledge of the man's character
and history.
In spite of her effort at self-control she blushed furiously. Mr. Davis
apparently did not observe it.
"I have been much impressed with his poise and culture and intelligence.
You met him in Washington, of course?"
"Yes--"
"You know positively that he was the Secretary of the Sardinian
Minister?"
"Positively, Mr. President--"
"Thank you, my dear. I'll take your word for it."
Jennie walked home on air. She had made history. How tragic its sequel
was destined to be, a kind Providence concealed.