Miss Ravenel's conversion from secession to loyalty

by John William De Forest

  CHAPTER XVII.

  COLONEL CARTER IS ENTIRELY VICTORIOUS BEFORE HE BEGINS HIS CAMPAIGN.

  Towards the close of this winter of 1862-3 Banks superseded Butler, andthe New England Division expanded into the Nineteenth Army Corps. Everyone who was in New Orleans during that season will remember theamazement with which he and all other persons saw transport aftertransport steam up the river, increasing the loyal forces in and aroundthe city by at least ten thousand men, which rumor magnified intotwenty-five thousand. Where did they come from, and where were theygoing, and what would be the result? Since the opening of the war noexpedition of magnitude had been conducted with similar secrecy; andevery one argued that a general who could plan with such reticence wouldexecute with corresponding vigor and ability. While the Secessionistsshrank within themselves, seeing no more hope of freeing Louisiana fromNorthern Vandals, our Doctor and his fellow Loyalists exulted in abelief that the war would soon be brought to a triumphant close.

  "Three mere transports!" exclaimed Ravenel, coming in from a walk on thelevee. "It is a most glorious spectacle, this exhibition of the power ofthe Republic. It equals the greatest military efforts of the greatestmilitary nations. One is absolutely reminded of consular Rome, carryingon the war with Hannibal in Italy, and at the same time sending onegreat army to Spain and another to Africa. I pin my faith to the tail ofGeneral Scott's anaconda. In the end it will crush Secessia, break everybone in its body, and swallow it. I think, Colonel, that we have everyreason to congratulate ourselves on the prospects."

  "I really can't see it," answered Carter, with a lugubrious laugh.

  "How so? You astonish me."

  "Don't you perceive that I lose my Governorship?"

  "Oh, but--I don't anticipate an immediate close of the struggle. It maylast a year yet; and during that time--"

  "That is not the point. King Stork has succeeded King Log. King Stork'smen must have the nice places and King Log's men must get out of them."

  "Oh, but they won't turn you out," exclaimed Lillie, and then blushed asshe thought how her eagerness might be interpreted.

  "We shall see," answered the Colonel gravely, and almost sadly. He wasso much in love with this girl that a life in Capua with her seemedmore desirable than the winning of Cannae's away from her.

  "Here is my fate," he said when he called on the following evening, andhanded her two official documents, the one relieving him from hisposition as Military Governor, the other assigning him to the command ofa brigade.

  "Now you must go into the battle again," she said, making a struggle topreserve her self-possession.

  "I am sorry,--on your account."

  At this answer her effort at stoicism and maidenly dignity failed; shedropped her head and hid her face in the sewing work on which she hadbeen engaged. This was too much for Carter, to whom love had been arejuvenation and almost a regeneration, so that he was as gentle,virginal, and sensitive as if he had never known the hardeningexperiences of a soldier and a man about town. Sitting down beside hisbetrothed, he pressed her temples with both his hands and kissed thelight, flossy, amber-colored ripples of her hair. He could feel thehalf-suppressed sobs which trembled through her frame, breaking softlyand noiselessly, like summer waves dying on a reedy shore. How he longedto soothe her by grasping all her being into his and making heraltogether his own! He was on the point of falling before the temptationwhich he had that morning resolved to resist. He knew that he ought notto marry, with only his colonelcy as a support; yet he was about to urgean immediate marriage, and would have done so had he spoken. Lilliewould not have refused him: it would not have been in the nature ofwoman: what girl would put off a lover who was going to thebattle-field? Nothing prevented the consummation of this imprudence buta ring at the door-bell. Miss Ravenel sprang up and fled from theparlor, fearful of being caught with tears on her cheeks and her hairdisordered. Mrs. Larue entered, gave the Colonel a saucy courtesy, casta keen sidelong glance at his serious countenance, repressed apparentlysome flippant remark which was on her lips, begged him to excuse her fora few moments, and slid out of the room.

  "Confound her!" muttered the Colonel, indignant at Madame without cause,merely because he had been interrupted.

  By the time that Lillie had dried her eyes, washed her face and composedherself so far as to dare return to the parlor, Mrs. Larue, ignorant ofthe good or mischief that she was accomplishing, was there also.Consequently, although Carter stayed late into the evening, there was nosecond opportunity for the perilous trial of a tete-a-tete farewell.

  Next day he went by the first train to Thibodeaux. As commanding officerof a brigade he exhibited his usual energy, practical ability, andbeneficent despotism. The colonels were ordered to make immediateinspections of their regiments, and to send in reports of articlesnecessary to complete the equipment of their men, with requisitions forthe same on the brigade quartermaster. During several consecutive dayshe personally went the rounds of his grand guards and outlying videttes,choosing for this purpose midnight, or a wet storm, or any other timewhen he suspected that men or officers might relax their vigilance. Insuch a pelting rain, as if the Father of Waters had been taken up toheaven and poured back into Louisiana, he came upon a picket of five menwho had sought refuge in some empty sugar-hogsheads. The closed-up headswere toward the road, because from that direction came the wind; andsuch was the pattering and howling of the tempest, that the men did nothear the tramp of the approaching horse. Reining up, the Colonelshouted, "Surrender! The first man that stirs, dies!"

  Not a soul moved or answered. For a minute or two Carter sat motionless,smiling grimly, with the water streaming down his face and uniform. Thenhe ordered: "Come out here, one of you. I want to see what this picketis made of."

  A corporal crawled out, leaving his gun behind him in the recumbenthogshead. His face was pale at his first appearance, but it turned palerstill when he recognized his brigade commander.

  "I--I thought it was a secesh," he stammered.

  "And so you surrendered, sir!" thundered the Colonel. "You allowedyourself to be surprised, and then you surrendered! Give me your name,sir, and the names of your men."

  Twenty minutes afterward a detachment from the reserve relieved theculprits, and marched them into camp as prisoners. Next day the corporaland the soldier whose turn it had been to stand as sentry, went before acourt-martial, and in a week thereafter were on their way to ShipIsland, to work out a sentence of hard labor with ball and chain.

  On the midnight following this adventure Carter ordered the outlyingvidettes to fire three rounds of musketry, and then rode from camp tocamp to see which regiment got into line the quickest.

  The members of his staff, especially his Adjutant-General and Aid, foundtheir positions no sinecures. Every night one or other of these younggentlemen made the rounds of the pickets some time between midnight anddaybreak, and immediately on his return to head-quarters reported to theColonel the condition of the line as regarded practical efficiency andknowledge of the formalities. If the troops fell in at three in themorning to go through the drill of taking position to repel an imaginaryenemy, they had at least the consolation of knowing that some poorstaff-officer had been roused out of bed half an hour before todisseminate the order. A staff-officer inspected every guard-mountingand every battalion-drill, and made a report as to how the same wasconducted. A staff-officer rode through every regimental camp everymorning, and made a report of its condition as to cleanliness. If theexplosion of a rifle was heard any where about the post, a staff-officerwas on the spot in five minutes to learn the circumstances of theirregularity, to order the offender to the guard-house, and to make hisreport to the all-pervading brigade commander. A false or incompletestatement he did not dare to render, so severe was the cross-questioningwhich he was liable to undergo.

  "Did you see it yourself, Lieutenant?" the Colonel would ask.

  "I saw the man cleaning his piece, sir; and he confessed that he haddischarged it to get the ball out."


  "Who was the man?"

  "Private Henry Brown, Company I, Ninth Barataria."

  "Very well, Mr. Brayton." (In the regular army a lieutenant is Mr.) "Nowhave the kindness to take my compliments to the Colonel of the NinthBarataria and the field-officer of the day, and request them to stephere."

  First comes the commanding officer of the regiment in which the offencehas been committed.

  "Walk in, Colonel," says the brigade commander. "Take a seat, sir.Colonel, a rifle has been fired by one of your men this morning. How isthat?"

  "It was against my orders, sir. The man is in the guard-house."

  "This is not the first offence of the kind--it is the third or fourthwithin a week."

  "The fact is, sir, that the men have no ball-screws. Their rifles getwet on picket duty, and they have no means of drawing the loads.Consequently they are tempted to discharge them, notwithstanding theorders."

  "Ah! You must give them the devil until they learn to resist temptation.But no ball-screws! How is that?"

  "I was not aware, sir, of the deficiency."

  "Not aware of it? My God, Colonel! Not aware of such a deficiency ofequipment in your own regiment?"

  "I am extremely sorry, sir," apologizes the humiliated Colonel, whodoes not know what might be done to him for such neglect, and who,although only three months in the service, is a conscientious officer,anxious to do his whole duty.

  "Send up a requisition for ball-screws and for every other lackingarticle of ordnance," says the brigade commander. "I will forward it tohead-quarters and see that you are supplied. But, by the way, how didthis fellow get outside your camp-guard with his gun? That is all wrong.Have the goodness to haul your officer of the guard over the coals aboutit. Make him understand that he is responsible for such irregularities,and that he may get dismissed the service if he doesn't attend to hisduties. That is all, Colonel. Will you take a glass of brandy? _Good_morning, sir."

  Then, turning to the Adjutant-General: "Captain, make out a circulardirecting commandants of regiments to see that targets are set up inproper places where the relieved guards may discharge their rifles. Thebest marksman to be reported to regimental head-quarters, and to berelieved from all ordinary duty for twenty-four hours."

  The field-officer of the day is now announced by the orderly.

  "Come in, Captain; take a seat, sir. Are you aware, Captain, that arifle has been fired this morning, outside the camps, in violation ofgeneral orders?"

  "I--I think I heard it," stammers the Captain, taking it for grantedthat he is guilty of something, but not knowing what.

  "Do you know who the offender is?" demands the Colonel, his browbeginning to blacken like a stormy heaven over the ignoramus.

  "I do not, sir. I will inquire, if you wish, Colonel."

  "If I wish! My God, sir! of course I wish it. Haven't you alreadyinquired? My God, sir! what do you suppose your duties are?"

  "I didn't know that this was one of them," pleads the now miserableCaptain.

  "Don't you know, sir, that you are responsible for every irregularitythat happens within the grand guards and outside the camps, while youare field-officer of the day? Don't you know that you are responsiblefor the firing of this rifle?"

  "Responsible," feebly echoes the Captain, not seeing the fact as yet,but nevertheless very much troubled.

  "Yes, sir. It is your business, if any thing goes wrong, to know it, anddiscover the perpetrators, and report them for punishment. It was yourbusiness, as soon as that gun was fired, to find out who fired it, tohave him put under guard, and to see that he was reported forpunishment. You haven't attended to your duty, sir. And because theofficers of the day don't know and don't do their duty, I have to makemy staff-officers ride day and night, and knock up their horses. Here ismy Aid, who has been doing your business. Mr. Brayton, give the Captainthis man's name, &c. Do you know, Captain, _why_ muskets should not befired about the camps at the will and pleasure of the enlisted men?"

  "I suppose, sir, to prevent a waste of ammunition."

  "Good God! Why, yes, sir; but that isn't all--that isn't half, sir. Thegreat reason, the all-important reason, is that firing is a signal ofdanger, of an enemy, of battle. If the men are to go shooting about thewoods in this fashion, we shall never know when we are and when we arenot to be attacked. Without orders from these headquarters no firing ispermissible except by the pickets, and that only when they are attacked.This matter involves the safety of the command, and must be subjected tothe strictest discipline. That is all, Captain. _Good_ morning, sir."

  As the poor officer of the day goes out, the heavens seem to be peopledwith threatening brigade commanders, and the earth to be a wildernessof unexplored and thorny responsibilities.

  "Well, Mr. Brayton, what was the cause of the firing?" inquired Carterone midnight, when the Aid returned from an expedition of inquiry.

  "A sentinel of the Ninth shot a man dead, sir, for neglecting to haltwhen challenged."

  "Good, by" (this and that), exclaimed the Colonel. "Those fellows areredeeming themselves. It used to be the meanest regiment for guard dutyin the brigade. But this is the second man the Ninth fellows have shotwithin a week. By" (that and the other) "they are learning theirbusiness. What is the sentinel's name, Mr. Brayton?"

  "Private Henry Brown, Company I. The same man, sir, that was punishedthe other day for firing off his rifle without orders."

  "Ah, by Jove! he has learned something--learned to do as he is told. Mr.Brayton, I wish you would go to the Colonel of the Ninth in the morning,and request him from me to make Brown a corporal at the firstopportunity. Ask him also to give the man a good word in an order, to beread before the regiment at dress parade to-morrow. By the way, who wasthe fellow who was shot?"

  "Private Murphy of the Ninth, who had been to Thibodeaux and over-stayedhis pass. He was probably drunk, sir--he had a half-empty bottle ofwhiskey in his pocket."

  "Bully for him--he died happy," laughed the Colonel. "You can go to bednow, Mr. Brayton. Much obliged to you."

  A few days later the brigade commander looked over the proceedings ofthe court-martial which he had convened, and threw down the manuscriptwith an oath.

  "What a stupid--what a cursedly stupid record! Orderly, give mycompliments to Major Jackson, and request him" (here he rises to a roar)"to report here immediately."

  Picking up the manuscript, he annotated it in pencil until MajorJackson was announced.

  "My God, sir!" he then broke out. "Is that your style of conducting acourt-martial? This record is a disgrace to you as President, and to mefor selecting you for such duty. Look here, sir. Here is a privateconvicted of beating the officer of the guard--one of the greatestoffences, sir, which a soldier could commit--an offence which strikes atthe very root of discipline. Now what is the punishment that you haveallotted to him? To be confined in the guard-house for three months, andto carry a log of wood for three hours a day. Do you call that asuitable punishment? He ought to have three years of hard labor withball and chain--that is the least he ought to have. You might havesentenced him to be shot. Why, sir, do you fully realize what it is tostrike an officer, and especially an officer on duty? It is to defy thevery soul of discipline. Without respect for officers, there is no army.It is a mob. Major Jackson, it appears to me that you have no conceptionof the dignity of your own position. You don't know what it is to be anofficer. That is all, sir. Good morning."

  "Captain," continues the Colonel, turning to his Adjutant-General, "makeout an order disapproving of all the proceedings of this court, anddirecting that Major Jackson shall not again be detailed oncourt-martial while he remains under my command."

  Carter was a terror to his whole brigade--to the stupidest private, toevery lieutenant of the guard, to every commandant of company, to themembers of his staff, and even to his equals in grade, the colonels. Heknew his business so well, he was so invariably right in hisfault-findings, he was so familiar with the labyrinth of regulations andgeneral orders, t
hrough which almost all others groped with manystumblings, and he was so conscientiously and gravely outraged byoffences against discipline, that he was necessarily a dreadfulpersonage. To use the composite expression, half Hibernian and halfHebraic, of Lieutenant Van Zandt, he was a regular West Point Bull ofBashan in the volunteer China-shop. But while he was thus feared, he wasalso greatly respected; and a word of praise from him was cherished byofficer or soldier as a medal of honor. And, stranger still, while hewas exercising what must seem to the civilian reader a hard-hearteddespotism, he was writing every other day letters full of ardentaffection to a young lady in New Orleans.

  In a general way one is tempted to speak jestingly of the circumstanceof a well-matured man falling in love with a girl in her teens. By thetime a man gets to be near forty, his moral physiognomy is supposed tobe so pock-marked with bygone amours as to be in a measure ludicrous, orat least devoid of dignity in its tenderness. But Carter's emotionalnature was so emphatic and volcanic, so capable of bringing a drama ofthe affections to a tragic issue, that I feel no disposition to laughover his affair with Miss Ravenel, although it was by no means hisfirst, nor perhaps his twentieth. Considering the passions as forces, weare obliged to respect them in proportion to their power rather thantheir direction. And in this case the direction was not bad, norfoolish, but good, and highly creditable to Carter; for Miss Ravenel,though as yet barely adolescent, was a finer woman in brain and heartthan he had ever loved before; also he loved her better than he had everbefore loved any woman.

  He could not stay away from her. As soon as he had got his brigade intosuch order as partially satisfied his stern professional conscience, heobtained a leave of absence for seven days, and went to New Orleans.From this visit resulted one of the most important events that will berecorded in the present history. I shall hurry over the particulars,because to me the circumstance is not an agreeable one. Having from myfirst acquaintance with Miss Ravenel entertained a fondness for her, Inever could fancy this match of hers with such a dubious person asColonel Carter, who is quite capable of making her very unhappy. Ialways agreed with her father in preferring Colburne, whose character,although only half developed in consequence of youth, modesty, andPuritan education, is nevertheless one of those germs which promise muchbeauty and usefulness. But Miss Ravenel, more emotional than reflective,was fated to love Carter rather than Colburne. To her, and probably tomost women, there was something powerfully magnetic in the ardent naturewhich found its physical expression in that robust frame, that floridbrunette complexion, those mighty mustachios, and darkly burning eyes.

  The consequence of this visit to New Orleans was a sudden marriage. Thetropical blood in the Colonel's veins drove him to demand it, and theelectric potency of his presence forced Miss Ravenel to concede it. Whenhe held both her hands in his, and, looking with passionate importunityinto her eyes, begged her not to let him go again into the flame ofbattle without the consolation of feeling that she was altogether andfor ever his, she could only lay her head on his shoulder, gentlysobbing in speechless acquiescence. How many such marriages took placeduring the war, sweet flowers of affection springing out of the mightycarnage! How many fond girls forgot their womanly preference for longengagements, slow preparations of much shopping and needle-work, coyhesitations, and gentle maidenly tyrannies, to fling themselves into thearms of lovers who longed to be husbands before they went forth to die!How many young men in uniform left behind them weeping brides to whomthey were doomed never to return!

  "Brave boys are all, gone at their country's call, And yet, and yet, We cannot forget That many brave boys must fall."

  This sad little snatch from the chorus of a common-place song Lillieoften repeated to herself, with tears in her eyes, when Carter was atthe front, without minding a bit the fact that her "brave boy" wasthirty-six years old.

  The marriage cost the Doctor a violent pang; but he consented to it,overborne by the passion of the period. There was no time to be lost onbridal dresses, any more than in bridal tours. The ceremony wasperformed in church by a regimental chaplain, in presence of the father,Mrs. Larue, and half a dozen chance spectators, only two days before theColonel's leave of absence expired. Neither then nor afterward couldLillie realize this day and hour, through which she walked and spoke asif in a state of somnambulism, so stupefied or benumbed was she by thestrength of her emotions. The lookers-on observed no sign of feelingabout her, except that her face was as pale and apparently as cold asalabaster. She behaved with an appearance of perfect self-possession;she spoke the ordained words at the right moment and in a clearvoice--and yet all the while she was not sure that she was in her rightmind. It was a frozen delirium of feeling, ice without and fire within,like a volcano of the realms of the pole.

  Once in the hackney-coach which conveyed them home, alone with this manwho was now her husband, her master, the ice melted a little, and shecould weep silently upon his shoulder. She was not wretched; neithercould she distinctly feel that she was happy; if this was happiness,then there could be a joy which was no release from pain. She had nodoubts about her future, such as even yet troubled her father, and sethim pacing by the half-hour together up and down his study. This man byher side, this strong and loving husband, would always make her happy.She did not doubt his goodness so much as she doubted her own; shetrusted him almost as firmly as if he were a deity. Yes, he would alwayslove her--and she would always, always, always love him; and what morewas there to desire? All that day she was afraid of him, and yet couldnot bear to be away from him a moment. He had such an authority overher--his look and voice and touch so tyrannized her emotions, that hewas an object of something like terror; and yet the sense of hisdomination was so sweet that she could not wish it to be less, butdesired with her whole beating brain and heart that it might evermoreincrease. I give no record of her conversation at this time. She said solittle! Usually a talker, almost a prattler, she was now silent; a lookfrom her husband, a thought of her husband, would choke her at anymoment. He seemed to have entered into her whole being, so that she wasnot fully herself. The words which she whispered when alone with himwere so sacred with woman's profoundest and purest emotions that theymust not be written. The words which she uttered in the presence ofothers were not felt by her, and were not worth writing.

  After two days, there was a parting; perhaps, she wretchedly thought, afinal one.

  "Oh! how can I let you go?" she said. "I cannot. I cannot bear it. Willyou come back? Will you ever come back? Will you be careful of yourself?You won't get killed, will you? Promise me."

  She was womanish about it, and not heroic, like her Amazonian sisters onthe Rebel side. Nevertheless she did not feel the separation so bitterlyas she would have done, had they been married a few months or years,instead of only a few hours. Intimate relations with her husband had notyet become a habit, and consequently a necessity of her existence; themere fact that they had exchanged the nuptial vows was to her arealization of all that she had ever anticipated in marriage; when theyleft the altar, and his ring was upon her finger, their wedded life wasas complete as it ever would be. And thus, in her ignorance of what lovemight become, she was spared something of the anguish of separation.

  She was thinking of her absent husband when Mrs. Larue addressed her forthe first time as Mrs. Carter; and yet in her dreaminess she did not atthe moment recognize the name as her own: not until Madame laughed andsaid, "Lillie, I am talking to you." Then she colored crimson andthrobbed at the heart as if her husband himself had laid his hand uponher shoulder.

  Very shortly she began to demand the patient encouragements of herfather. All day, when she could get at him, she pursued him withquestions which no man in these unprophetic days could answer. It was,"Papa, do you think there will be an active campaign this summer? Papa,don't you suppose that Mr. Carter will be allowed to keep his brigade atThibodeaux?"

  She rarely spoke of her husband except as Mr. Carter. She did not likehis name John--it sounded too c
ommon-place for such a superb creature;and the title of Colonel was too official to satisfy her affection. But"Mr. Carter" seemed to express her respect for this man, her husband,her master, who was so much older, and, as she thought, morally greaterthan herself.

  Sometimes the Doctor, out of sheer pity and paternal sympathy, answeredher questions just as she wished them to be answered, telling her thathe saw no prospect of an active campaign, that the brigade could notpossibly be spared from the important post of Thibodeaux, etc. etc. Butthen the exactingness of anxious love made her want to know why hethought so; and her persevering inquiries generally ended by forcing himfrom all his hastily constructed works of consolation. In mereself-defence, therefore, he occasionally urged upon her the unpleasantbut ennobling duties of patience and self-control.

  "My dear," he would say, "we cannot increase our means of happinesswithout increasing our possibilities of misery. A woman who marries islike a man who goes into business. The end may be greatly increasedwealth, or it may be bankruptcy. It is cowardly to groan over the fact.You must learn to accept the sorrows of your present life as well as thejoys; you must try to strike a rational balance between the two, and becontented if you can say, 'On the whole, I am happier than I was.' I begyou, for your own sake, to overcome this habit of looking at only thedarker chances of life. If you go on fretting, you will not last the warout. No constitution--no woman's constitution, at any rate--can standit. You positively must cease to be a child, and become a woman."

  Lillie tried to obey, but could only succeed by spasms.