"Thy mind and body are alike unfit
To trust each other, for some hours, at least;
When thou art better, I will be thy guide--
But whither?"--BYRON.
I awoke from an uneasy sleep, superinduced, I thought, by the surgeon's
repeated potions. My head was light and giddy, but the pain had almost
gone. My stomach was craving food.
It was night. Candles were burning on a low table in the middle of the
tent. The pallets, other than mine, had disappeared; my dream had
changed; the tent seemed larger.
The doctor and two strange men were sitting by the table. I had heard
them talking before I opened my eyes.
"I should like to have him, Frank."
Then the doctor's voice said: "I have made inquiry of every adjutant in
the brigade, and no such man seems to be missing. But he knows that he
is from South Carolina--in fact, his buttons are sufficient proof of
that. Then the diary found in his pocket shows the movements of no other
brigade than Gregg's. Take him into your company, Captain."
"Can I do that without some authority?"
"You can receive him temporarily; when he is known, he will be called
for, and you can return him to his company."
"What do you think of it, Aleck?"
"I think it would be irregular, or perhaps I should say exceptional,"
said another voice; "the regulations cannot provide for miraculous
contingencies."
"The whole thing's irregular," said the doctor; "it's impossible to
make it regular until his company is found. What else can you suggest?"
"I don't know. Can't we wait?"
"Wait for what?"
"Wait till we find his people."
"He'll be fit for duty in two days. What'll we do with, him then?--turn
him loose? He wouldn't know what to do with himself. I tell you we can't
find his regiment, or, at least, we haven't found it, and that he is fit
for duty, or will be in a few days; he is not a fit subject for the
general hospital, and I wouldn't risk sending him there; Powell would
wonder at me."
"Can't you keep him a while longer?"
"I can keep him a few days only; I tell you there is nothing the matter
with him. If I discharge him, what will he do? He ought to be
attached--he must be attached, else he cannot even get food. It will all
necessarily end in his being forced into the ranks of _some_ company,
and I want to see him placed right."
"I will not object to taking him if I can get him properly."
"Somebody'll get him. Besides, we can't let him leave us before he has a
place to go to. I think I have the right, in this miraculous
contingency, as Aleck calls it, to hand him over to you, at least
temporarily. Of course you can't keep him always. Sooner or later we'll
hear of some regiment that is seeking such a man. His memory will return
to him, so that he'll know where he belongs."
"Yes--I suppose so. I am willing to receive him. When his company is
found, of course I shall be compelled to let him go."
"If provision is not made for him, he must suffer. I shall fear for him
unless we can settle him in some way such as I propose. Am I not
right, Aleck?"
"Can't you keep him with you as some sort of help?"
"I would not propose such a thing to him. There could be nothing here
for him except a servant's place. He is my man, and I'm going to treat
him better than that. By the way, I believe he is awake."
My eyes were wide open. The doctor turned to me and said, "How do you
feel now, Jones?"
"Am I here yet?" I muttered.
"Yes. Did you expect to be in two places at once?"
"Where are the others?"
"What others?"
"The five men."
"What five men?"
"The five men on the pallets."
"Oh!--been sent to the general hospital."
"Yes," said I, mournfully; "everything that comes goes again."
"Sound philosophy," said he; "you are getting strong and well. Don't
bother your head about what happened last century or last year."
He went to the door and called William.
The negro man came. "Some soup," said the doctor.
The soup was good. I felt better--almost strong. The doctor's friends
sat by, saying nothing. The doctor smiled to see me take the soup
somewhat greedily.
"Talk to him, Captain," said the doctor.
"My friend," said one of the men, "allow me to ask if you know where you
are."
"I know what I've been told," said I.
"You must be good enough to believe it," said he; "you believe it or you
doubt it. Do you still doubt it?"
"Yes," I said boldly.
"I can't blame you," said he. His voice was low and firm--a gentleman's
voice; a voice to inspire confidence; a voice which I thought, vaguely,
I had heard before.
"Yet," he continued, "to doubt it you must be making some theory of your
own; what is it, please?"
He spoke with a slight lisp. I noticed it, and felt pleased that I had
got to a stage in which, such a trifle was of any interest.
"The only possible theories are that I am dreaming and--"
"Be good enough to tell me another."
He had not interrupted me; I had hesitated.
"I know!" exclaimed the doctor; "he thinks I am concealing worse by
inventing a war with all its _et ceteras_. His supposition does me
credit in one way, but in another it does me great injury. Although I
have given him my word of honour that I am concealing nothing, he still
hangs to his notion that I am lying to him in order to keep from him a
truth that might be dangerous to his health. I shall be compelled to
call him out when he gets well. Will you act for me, Aleck?"
"With great pleasure," said the man addressed; "but perhaps your friend
will make the _amende_ when he knows the injustice of his suspicions."
"Have I told either of you what I have said to Jones about the war?"
asked the doctor.
"Certainly not; so far as I have the right to speak," said the Captain.
The other man shook his head.
"Then tell Jones the conditions here."
"Oh, Doctor, don't be so hard on me! I accept all you say, although it
is accepting impossibilities."
"Then, about your dream theory," said the Captain; "would you object to
my asking if you have ever had such a dream--so vivid and so long?"
"Not that I know of," said I.
"You think that Dr. Frost and my brother and I are mere creatures of
your fancy?"
The candles did not give a great light. I could not clearly see his
features. He came nearer, moving his stool to my side. My head was below
him, so that I was looking up at his face. He was a young man. His face
was almost a triangle, with its long jaw.
"I believe that dreams are not very well understood, even by the
wisest," he said. "Do me the kindness to confess that your present
experience, if a dream, is more wonderful than any other dream you
have had."
Though my head was dizzy, I thought I could detect a slight tinge of
irony in this excessively polite speech.
"I think it must be," I replied; "although I cannot remember any other
dream."
"Then, might not one say that the only dream you are conscious of is not
a dream?"
"That contradicts itself," said I.
"And you find yourself unable to accept the word of three men that you
are not dreaming?"
"Not if they are men of my dream," said I.
"A good retort, sir," he said. "Do me the kindness to tell me your
notion of a dream. Do you think it should be consistent throughout, or
should there be strong intrinsic proof of its own unrealness?"
"Captain," I said, "I cannot tell. I know nothing. I doubt my own
existence."
"Pardon me," said he; "you know the test--you think, therefore you
exist. Are you not sure that you think?"
"I think, or I dream that I think."
"Well said, sir; an excellent reasoner while dreaming. But suppose you
dream on; what will be the result?"
"Dream and sleep till I awake," said I.
"May I ask where you will awake?"
"In Aiken."
"I know a little of Aiken," said the Captain; "I was there not a year
ago."
Naturally the remark was of interest to me.
"When was it?" I asked.
"It was in August, of last year. You remember, Frank, I was recruiting
for the reorganized First."
"August of what year?" I asked.
"August eighteen sixty-one, very naturally."
"Gentlemen," said I, "bear with me, I beg you. I am not myself. I am
going through deep waters, I know nothing."
"We know," said the doctor; "and we are going to see you through." Then
he added: "Captain Haskell came from Abbeville. He has men in his
company from several of the districts; possibly some of them would know
you, and you might know them."
I did not want to know them. I said nothing. The doctor's suggestion was
not to my liking. Why should I join these men? What, to me, was this
captain? What was I to him? So far as I know, I had no interest in this
war. So far as I could know myself, my tastes did not seem to set
strongly in the direction of soldiering. Those men could get along
without my help. Why could I not find a different occupation? Anything
would be better than getting killed in a cause I did not understand.
Then, too, I was threatened with the wretched condition of an object of
common curiosity. If I was going to be gazed at by this officer and his
men,--if I was to be regarded as a freak,--my way certainly did not lie
with theirs.
"Frank," said the Captain's brother, "would it hurt Jones to go out of
the tent for a moment?"
"Not at all," said the doctor; "a good suggestion."
"Why should I go out?" I asked.
"Only to look about you," he replied.
The doctor helped me to my feet. I was surprised to find myself so
strong. Dr. Frost took my arm; all of us went out.
I looked around. Near us but little could be seen--only a few fires on
the ground. But far off--a mile or so, I don't know--the whole world was
shining with fires; long lines of them to the right and the left.
We returned into the tent. Not a word had been spoken.
Captain Haskell now said to me: "Pardon me for now leaving you. Command
me, if I can be of any help; I trust you will not think me too bold in
advising you to make no hasty decision which you might regret
afterward; good-by."
"Good-by, Captain," I replied; "I must trust the doctor."
The Captain's brother lingered. Dr. Frost was busy with him for a while,
over some writing; I inferred that the surgeon was making a report. When
this matter was ended the doctor said to me, "This officer also is a
Captain Haskell; he is assistant adjutant-general of Gregg's brigade,
and is a brother of Captain William Haskell."
The adjutant now came nearer and sat by me. "Yes," said he; "but I was
in my brother's company at first. We all shall be glad to help you if
we can."
"Captain," said I, "your goodness touches me keenly. I admire it the
more because I know that I am nothing to you gentlemen."
"Why," said he, "your case is a very interesting one, especially to Dr.
Frost, and we are all good friends; the doctor was in Company H
himself--was its first orderly sergeant. Frank called our attention to
your case in order that we might try to help you, and we should be
glad to help."
"Jones," said Dr. Frost, "it is this way: The army may move any day or
any hour. You cannot be sent to the general hospital, because you are
almost well. Something must be done with you. What would you have
us do?"
"I have no plans," said I; "it would be impossible for me to have any
plan. But I think it would be wrong for me to commit myself to something
I do not understand. You seem to suggest that I enlist as a soldier. I
feel no desire to go to war, or to serve as a soldier in any way.
Possibly I should think differently if I knew anything about the war and
its causes."
"You are already a Confederate soldier," said Dr. Frost. "I think,
Frank," said Adjutant Haskell, "that if the causes of the war were
explained to your friend, he would be better prepared to agree to your
wishes. Suppose you take time to-morrow and give him light; I know he
must be full of curiosity."
"Right!" said the doctor; "I'll do it. Let him know what is going on.
Then he'll see that we are right. He'd have it to do, though, in
the end."
"Yes; but let him understand fully; then he'll be more cheerful; at any
rate, it can do no harm."
"But why should I be compelled to serve?" I asked.
"Jones, my dear fellow, you seem determined not to believe that you are
already a soldier," said the doctor.
"If I am a soldier, I belong somewhere," said I.
"Of course you do," said Adjutant Haskell; "and all that we propose is
to give you a home until you find where you belong; and the place we
propose for you is undoubtedly the best place we know of. Company H is a
fine body of men; since I am no longer in it I may say that they are
picked men; the most of them are gentlemen. Let me mention some good old
Carolina names--you will remember them, I think. Did you never hear the
name of Barnwell?"
"Yes, of course," I said; "I've been to Barnwell Court-House. I believe
this place--I mean Aiken--is in Barnwell district."
"Well, John G. Barnwell is the first lieutenant in Company H. Do you
know of the Rhetts?"
"Yes, the name is familiar as that of a prominent family."
"Grimké Rhett is a lieutenant in Company H. Then there are the Seabrooks
and the Hutsons, and Mackay, and the Bellots[6], and Stewart, and Bee,
and Fraser Miller, and many more who represent good old families. You
would speedily feel at home."
[6] The Bellots were of a French Huguenot family, which settled in
Abbeville, S.C. (in 1765?). The name gradually came to be pronounced
_Bellotte_. [ED.]
"Gentlemen," said I, "how I ever became a soldier I do not know. I am a
soldier in a cause that I do not understand."
"And you have done many other things that you could not now understand
if you were told of them," said the doctor.
"But, Jones," said the adjutant, "a man who has already been wounded in
the service of his country ought to be proud of it!"
"What do you mean, Captain?" I asked.
"Hold on!" said Dr. Frost. "Well, I suppose there is no harm done. Tell
him how he was hurt, Aleck."
"How did you suppose you received your hurt?" asked the adjutant.
"I was told by Dr. Frost that somebody knocked me down," said I, with
nervous curiosity.
"Yes, that's so; somebody did knock you down," said the doctor.
"You were struck senseless by a bursting shell thrown by the enemy's
cannon," said the adjutant, "and yet you refuse to admit that you are
a soldier!"
To say that I was speechless would be weak. I stared back at the two
men.
"You have on the uniform; you are armed; you are in the ranks; you are
under fire from the enemy's batteries, where death may come, and does
come; you are wounded; you are brought to your hospital for treatment.
And yet you doubt that you are a soldier! You must be merely dreaming
that you doubt!"
While speaking Adjutant Haskell had risen, a sign that he was getting
angry, I feared; but no, he was going to leave. "Jones, good-by," he
said; "hold on to that strong will of yours, but don't let it fall into
obstinacy."
The doctor came nearer. "You are stronger than you thought," said he.
"Yes, I am. I was surprised."
"You remind me of horses I have seen fall between the shafts; they lie
there and seem to fancy that they have no strength at all. I suppose
they think that they are dreaming."
At this speech. I laughed aloud--why, I hardly know, unless it was that
my own mind recalled one such ludicrous incident; then, too, it was
pleasant to hear the doctor say that I was strong.
"Yes, Jones; all you need is a little more time. Two or three days will
set you up."
"Doctor, I cannot understand it at all; this talk about armies, and war,
and wounds, and adjutants--what does it all mean?"
"You must not try to know everything at once. I think you are now
convinced that there is a war?"
"Yes."
"You will learn all about it very soon, perhaps to-morrow; it ought to
be enough for you to know that your country is in danger. Are you
a patriot?"
"I trust so."
"Well, of course you are. Now you must go to sleep. You have talked long
enough. Good night. I will send William to give you a night-cap."
* * * * *
The next morning Dr. Frost expressed great satisfaction with my
progress, and began, almost as soon as I had eaten, to gratify my
curiosity.
"I believe that you confess to the charge of being a patriot," said he.
"I trust I am," said I.
"We are invaded. Our homes are destroyed. Our women are insulted. Our
men are slain. The enemy is before our capital and hopes to conquer. Can
you hesitate?"
"I should not hesitate if I understood as you understand. But how can
you expect me to kill men when I know nothing of the merits of the cause
for which I am told to fight?"
"Jones, so far as I am concerned, and so far as the government is
concerned, your question is hardly pertinent. You are already a
Confederate soldier by your own free act. Your only chance to keep from
serving is to get yourself killed, or at least disabled; I will not
suggest desertion. For your sake, however, I am ready to answer any
question you may ask about the causes of the war. You ought to have your
mind satisfied, if it be possible."
"What are they fighting about?"
"Do you recall the manner in which the United States came into
existence?"
"Yes, I think so," said I.
"Tell me."
"The colonies rebelled against Great Britain and won their independence
in war," said I.
"Well; what then?"
"The colonies sent delegates to a convention, and the delegates framed a
constitution."
"Well; what then?"
"The colonies agreed to abide by the constitution."
"That is to say, the Colonies, or States, ratified the action of the
constitutional convention?" he asked.
"Yes; that is what I mean," said I.
"Then do you think the States created the general government? Think a
little before you answer."
"Why should I think? It seems plain enough."
"Yet I will present an alternative. Did the States create the Federal
government, or did the people of the whole United States, acting as a
body-politic, create it?"
"Your alternative seems contradictory," said I.
"In what respect?"
"It makes the United States exist before the United States came into
existence," said I.
"Then what would your answer be?"
"The people of each colony, or each State rather, sent delegates. The
delegates, representing the respective States, framed the constitution.
The people, if I mistake not, ratified the constitution, each State
voting separately. Therefore I think that the United States government
is a creature of the States and not of the people as a body-politic; for
there could have been no such body-politic."
"Jones, my dear fellow, you are a constitutional lawyer; you ought never
to have entered military service."
"Besides," said I, "Rhode Island and North Carolina refused for a time
to enter into the agreement."
"And suppose they had refused finally. Would, the other States have
compelled them to come in?" he asked.
"I cannot say as to that," said I.
"Do you think they would have had the moral right to coerce them?"
"The question is too hard for me to answer, Doctor; I cannot very well
see what ought to have been done."
"The two States would have had some rights?"
"Certainly."
"What rights would the United States have had over the two States?"
"I do not think the Federal government would have had any; but the
people would have had some claim--what, I cannot say. I do not think
that Rhode Island had the moral right to endanger the new republic by
refusing to enter it. But there may have been something peculiar in
Rhode Island's situation; I do not remember. I should say that the
question should have been settled by compromise. Rhode Island's
objections should have been considered and removed. A forced agreement
would be no agreement."
"When the States formed the government, did they surrender all their
rights?"
"I think not."
"What rights did they retain?"
"They retained everything they did not surrender."
"Well, then, what did they surrender? Did they become provinces? Did
they surrender the right of resistance to usurpation?"
"I think not."
"Would you think that the States had formed a partnership for the
general good of all?"
"Of course, Doctor; but I am not quite sure that the word 'partnership'
is the correct term."
"Shall we call it a league? A compact? A federation? A confederacy?"
"I should prefer the word 'union' to any of those," I said. "The title
of the republic means a union."
"What is the difference between a union and a confederacy?"
"I don't know that there is any great difference; but the word 'union'
seems to me to imply greater permanence."
"You think, then, that the United States must exist always?"
"I think that our fathers believed that they were acting for all
time--so far as they could," said I; "but, of course, there were
differences, even among the framers of the constitution."
"Suppose that at some time a State or several States should believe that
their interests were being destroyed and that injustice was being done."
"The several branches of government should prevent that," said I.
"But suppose they knew that all the branches of the government were
united in perpetrating this injustice."
"Then I do not know what such States ought to do," said I.
"Suppose Congress was against them; that the majority in Congress had
been elected by their opponents; that the President and the judges were
all against them."
"The will of the majority should rule," said I.
"Even in cases where not only life and liberty but honour itself must be
given up or defended?"
"Then I don't know what they ought to do," I repeated.
"Ought they to endure tamely?"
"No; but what their recourse would be I cannot justly see; it seems
that the constitution should have provided some remedy."
"You believe in the right to revolt against tyranny?"
"Yes."
"Well, suppose your State and other States, her neighbours, should
conclude that there was no remedy against injustice except in
withdrawing from the partnership, or union."
"I should say that would be a very serious step to take, perhaps a
dangerous step, perhaps a wrong step," said I. "But I am no judge of
such things. It seems to me that my mind is almost blank concerning
politics."
"Yes? Well, suppose, however, that your State should take that step, in
the hope that she would be allowed to withdraw in peace; would her
citizens be bound by her action?"
"Of course. South Carolina, you say, has withdrawn; that being the case,
every citizen of the State is bound by her act, as long as he remains
a citizen."
"South Carolina has withdrawn, but her hope for a peaceable withdrawal
is met by United States armies trying to force her back into the Union.
Under these circumstances, what is the duty of a citizen of South
Carolina?"
"I should say that so long as he remains a citizen of the State, he must
obey the State. He must obey the State, or get out of it."
"And if he gets out of it, must he join the armies that are invading his
State and killing his neighbours and kinsmen?"
"I think no man would do that."
"But every one who leaves his State goes over to the enemies of his
State, at least in a measure, for he deprives his State of his help, and
influences others to do as he has done. Do you think that South Carolina
should allow any of her citizens to leave her in this crisis?"
"No; that would be suicidal. Every one unwilling to bear arms would thus
be allowed to go."
"And a premium would be put upon desertion?"
"In a certain sense--yes."
"Can a State's duty conflict with the duty of her citizens?"
"That is a hard question, Doctor; if I should be compelled to reply, I
should say no."
"Then if it is South Carolina's duty to call you into military service,
is it not your duty to serve?"
"Yes; but have you shown that it is her duty to make me serve?"
"That brings up the question whether it is a citizen's duty to serve his
country in a wrong cause, and you have already said that a man should
obey her laws or else renounce his citizenship."
"Yes, Doctor, that seems the only alternative."
"Then you are going to serve again, or get out of the country?"
"You are putting it very strongly, Doctor; can there be no exception to
rules?"
"The only exception to the rule is that the alternative does not exist
in time of war. The Confederate States have called into military service
all males between eighteen and forty-five. You could not leave the
country--excuse me for saying it; I speak in an impersonal sense--even
if you should wish to leave it. Every man is held subject to military
service; as you have already said, the State would commit suicide if she
renounced the population from which she gets her soldiers. But, in any
case, what would you do if you were not forced into service?"
"I am helpless," I said gloomily.
"No; I don't want you to look at it in that way; you are not helpless.
What I have already suggested will relieve you. We can attach, you to
any company that you may choose, with the condition that as soon as your
friends are found you are to be handed over to them--I mean, of course,
handed over to your original company. It seems to me that such a course
is not merely the best thing to do, but the only thing to do."
"Doctor," said I, "you and your friends are placing me under very heavy
obligations. You have done much yourself, and your friends show me
kindness. Perhaps I could do no better than to ask you to act for me. I
know the delicacy of your offer. Another man might have refused to
discuss or explain; he had the power to simply order me back into
the ranks."
"No," said he; "I am not so sure that any such power could have been
exercised. To order you back into the ranks is not a surgeon's duty to
his patient. There seems to be nothing whatever in the army regulations
applying to such a case as yours. You have been kept here without
authority, except the general authority which empowers the surgeon to
help the wounded. But I have no control over you whatever. If you
choose, nobody would prevent you from leaving this hospital. I cannot
make a report of your case on any form furnished me. It was this
difficulty, in your case, that made me beg the brigade adjutant to visit
you; while the matter is irregular, it is, however, known at brigade
headquarters, so that it is in as good a shape as we know how to put it.
I cannot order you back into the ranks; you would not know what to do
with yourself; what I suggest will relieve you from any danger hereafter
of being supposed a deserter; we keep trace of you and can prove that
you are still in the service and are obeying authority."
"That settles it!" I exclaimed; "I had not thought of the possibility of
being charged with desertion."
"To tell you the truth, no more had I until this moment. We must get
authority from General Hill in this matter, in order to protect you
fully. At this very minute no doubt your orderly-sergeant and the
adjutant of your regiment are reporting you absent without leave. I must
quit you for a while."
* * * * *
What had seemed strangest to me was the lack of desire, on my part, to
find my company. I had tried, from the first moment of the proposition
to join Company H, to analyze this reluctance in regard to my original
company, and had at last confessed to myself that it was due to
exaggerated sensitiveness. Who were the men of my company? should I
recognize them? No; they would know me, but I should not know them. This
thought had been strong in holding me back from yielding to the doctor's
views; I had an almost morbid dread of being considered a curiosity. So,
I did not want to go back to my company; and as for going into Captain
Haskell's company, I considered that project but a temporary
expedient--my people would soon be found and I should be forced back
where I belonged and be pointed out forever as a freak. So I wanted to
keep out of Company H and out of every other company; I wanted to go
away--to do something--anything--no matter what, if it would only keep
me from being advertised and gazed upon.
Such had been my thoughts; but now, when Dr. Frost had brought before me
the probability of my being already reported absent without leave, and
the consequent possibility of being charged with desertion, I decided at
once that I should go with Captain Haskell. Whatever I might once have
been, and whatever I might yet become, I was not and never should be
a deserter.
When I next saw Dr. Frost I asked him when I should be strong enough for
duty.
"You are fit for duty now," said he; "that is, you are strong enough to
march in case the army should move. I do not intend, however, to let you
go at once, unless there should be a movement; in that case I could not
well keep you any longer."
I replied that if I was strong enough to do duty, I did not wish to
delay. To this he responded that he would ask Captain Haskell to enroll
me in his company at once, but to consider me on the sick list for a few
days, in order that I might accustom myself gradually to new conditions.