Heaven and Hell: The North and South Trilogy (Book Three)

by John Jakes

MARIE-LOUISE MAIN CAME INTO the springtime of her fifteenth year bothered by a number of things.

  She was bothered at night by vivid dreams in which she waltzed with a succession of handsome young men. Each young man held her waist firmly and flirted in a Yankee accent she found wickedly attractive. Every face was different, but all the young men were officers in blue uniforms with bright gold buttons. The ending of each dream was similar, too. The young officer whirled her away to some dim balcony or garden path and there bent to kiss her in a highly forward way—

  Whereupon she invariably awoke. She knew why. She was ignorant of what came after a kiss.

  Oh, she had a general idea. She’d seen animals, and, well, she knew. But she hadn’t the faintest idea of how it felt, or how she should behave. Mama had provided basic facts, but to questions about response she said, “Time enough to talk about that when you become engaged. That will be some years yet.” Of course Marie-Louise never mentioned the subject with Papa.

  She was bothered by what she perceived as her inadequacy when she compared herself with her peers, the five other young ladies in her class at Mrs. Allwick’s Female Academy. While she worked at her translation of selected passages from Horace or the Aeneid, the other girls passed notes and whispered about their beaux. Each had several, or claimed they did. Marie-Louise had none. Papa was so grim and preoccupied all the time, he wouldn’t give her the slightest encouragement about boys. Not that it really mattered. She didn’t know even one boy who might want to begin the courtship ritual with the customary small gifts and parlor visits.

  She wondered if her looks contributed to this unhappy situation. She had to accept her height, and a slim figure; both parents were built that way. She’d inherited Mama’s dark blond curls and a large mouth with good teeth. Her small bosom came in some mysterious way from Papa’s side, she decided; Mama was flat.

  When she felt good, she thought herself passably pretty. When something got her down—usually the lack of boys in her life—she was sure she was a homely horse. Objectively, she was considered an attractive young woman, with a pretty face suited to smiling and a natural warmth that invited friendliness, although it was true that she was a little too tall and thin ever to be deemed a beauty.

  Marie-Louise was bothered by her father. He was stern and unsmiling, and although she had once been comfortable in his presence, she was no longer. Nor was Mama. Mama liked to entertain Aunt Madeline whenever she was in Charleston, but it could only be during the day, when Marie-Louise was at school; Papa refused to allow Uncle Orry’s widow to eat supper at Tradd Street or call when he was at home. He never explained this intolerant behavior, but it wounded Marie-Louise, who was fond of her aunt by marriage. Mama said Aunt Madeline needed the affection and support of her family. Uncle Orry’s best friend Mr. Hazard, the brother of Aunt Brett’s husband, had lost his wife in some terrible accident. Aunt Madeline had gone to the funeral and was still upset about it, Mama said.

  Papa didn’t care. Papa was not himself; not the man Marie-Louise remembered from her early childhood. He was busy with all sorts of personal causes. For instance, twice a month he traveled on horseback to Columbia. He was one of thirty-eight trustees of the old South Carolina College, now reopened as a state university with twenty-two students. “If the Radicals and General Canby will leave us alone, we might make something of the institution.” Exactly what he wanted to make of it, Marie-Louise couldn’t fathom, but he was fiercely protective of the university, and of his position as trustee.

  Papa was always delivering angry little sermons at meals. Marie-Louise knew there was turmoil in the state because of the new constitution that had something to do with public schools, one of the topics that most often prompted Papa’s sermons. One evening he flourished a letter from General Wade Hampton. “He’s chairing our special committee to write a protest to Congress about that damnable constitution.” The next evening he waved some cheap inky sheet and declared, “The Thunderbolt is a trashy paper but in this case the editors right. A property tax rate of nine mills per dollar would be thievery. The school scheme is nothing but a pauper’s cause, engineered by approximately sixty Negroes, most of whom are ignorant, and fifty white men who are Northern outcasts or Southern renegades. Their tinkering with the social order will destroy this state morally and financially.”

  The new schools, to be attended by black as well as white pupils, were not the only issue that incensed Papa. He ranted about charges of treason brought against Mr. Davis after a long imprisonment. “Our caged eagle,” Papa called him. As for the President of the United States, Mr. Johnson, Papa said he was “high-principled” and “the friend of Southerners,” but he was apparently about to be driven out of office by a scheme Marie-Louise didn’t understand at all. She only knew the fiendish Republicans were behind it.

  Papa hated Republicans. He frequently rushed off to evening meetings of the Democratic party, which he supported with his effort as well as his money. Marie-Louise wished he’d spend more time with the family and less attending meetings and writing letters to newspapers castigating the Republicans. He had no time for his daughter when she tried to plead that she needed a beau, if not several. She decided she would have to acquire one of her own or be forever humiliated in front of her classmates at Mrs. Allwick’s.

  Finally, Marie-Louise was bothered by a competition at the female academy where she studied Latin and Greek (a bore), algebra (a mystery), and social deportment (useful with beaux; at least so she was told). To conclude the spring term, Mrs. Allwick planned an evening of dance demonstrations under the supervision of Mr. LaMotte, the academy’s part-time dancing master. LaMotte was a peculiar man with a huge body, almost feminine grace, and eyes that Marie-Louise found unsettling; they always seemed to be focused on someone other than those he was teaching.

  LaMotte frequently harangued the young ladies about “Southern womanhood.” He said they represented its finest flowering and must protect themselves against men who would degrade it. Marie-Louise knew that “degrading” had something to do with men and women together physically, but when she mentally ventured beyond that, she was soon in the fogs of ignorance again. Two of her classmates giggled at such references; they understood everything, or pretended they did. It made her so mad she wanted to spit.

  To open the program for parents, there would be a grand tableau. One of the six girls in Marie-Louise’s class was to be chosen to represent this self-same Southern Womanhood. Mrs. Allwick would make the selection. Marie-Louise had decided that being picked was the most important matter in her life, next to beaux. She also feared the prize would go to a sow named Sara Jane Oberdorf, who said she had seven beaux. Marie-Louise had seen three. One was an undertaker’s boy who liked to discuss and compare funerals. One was the shy son of a local magistrate; he never answered anyone who said hello, merely grunted. The third was a lout so overweight that his neck bulged like those of certain old women afflicted with a condition Mama called “the goiter.” But at least the three boys were alive and breathing, not creatures of some scarlet dream. Botheration!

  One afternoon in early April, Marie-Louise left school at half past four, only to discover, when she stepped on the porch, that it was raining hard. She couldn’t see Fort Sumter in the harbor.

  Her chattering friends skipped off to parents or servants waiting in carriages. Marie-Louise clutched her Virgil and her algebra text and prepared for a soaking walk to Tradd Street. Then a familiar two-passenger buggy rounded the corner from the South Battery, and there was Papa, driving and waving his gold-knobbed stick.

  “I was at a committee meeting at Ravenel’s house. I saw it start to rain and thought I’d save you a drenching. Climb in. I must stop at the Mills House to drop off some papers. Then we’ll drive home.”

  Marie-Louise’s side curls bobbed as she jumped up beside him, sheltered by the buggy’s top. With adoring eyes she gazed at her pale, tired-looking father. This was the most attention he’d paid to her for months.

&
nbsp; A great many carriages and saddle horses were tied along the Meeting Street frontage of the hotel. Cooper found a space and told her to wait. He was gone more than the ten minutes he’d promised.

  The rain diminished, swift-flying dark clouds moved on out to sea, and a steamy sunshine pierced through while she waited. She noticed a small crowd of men and women listening to a speaker on the steps of Hibernian Hall. Nearby, other men held placards. One said, REPUBLICANS FOR FREE SCHOOLS.

  Bored, Marie-Louise left the carriage and strolled toward the crowd. The hoarse-voiced speaker, who might or might not have been a mulatto, was urging his listeners to vote in favor of the new state constitution. Marie-Louise paused at the back of the crowd. The two men just in front of her were unshaven farmer types. They gave her suspicious looks.

  Suddenly she noticed a young man not far from her on her left. He wore a fawn coat and breeches and a billowing brown cravat. He was staring.

  She almost sank through the ground. She recognized the pale face, light hair and curling mustache, and those brilliant blue eyes. It was the young civilian who’d given his seat to the Negress on the train from Coosawhatchie.

  He smiled and tipped his hat. Marie-Louise smiled, feeling she must be red as fire. She clutched her textbooks to her bosom. Was she acting like a perfect fool?

  “—and it behooves every citizen of good conscience to support free schools for South Carolina by voting aye on the constitution one week from—”

  “Just a moment.”

  Heads turned. Marie-Louise pirouetted. Her legs wobbled from shock. Where had Papa come from so silently? Well, obviously from the Mills House, while she was all wrapped up in wondering about the young man.

  Cooper pushed through the crowd. “I’m a citizen with a conscience. I’d like to ask a question.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Main. I recognize you,” said the speaker, defensive and a bit sardonic. Marie-Louise flashed a look at the young man, trying to say that Cooper was her father, but of course the young man didn’t understand. To the crowd, the speaker said, “This gentleman is a factor and shipping agent. A Democrat.”

  Predictably, the people growled. When someone said, “Hell with him,” Marie-Louise reacted with a wrathful expression. How dare they be so rude to Papa?

  Cooper elbowed his way to the steps of Hibernian Hall. Marie-Louise could tell that he was in one of his angry moods. “I listened to the fine platitudes this gentleman purveys as part of his Republican cant. I wonder if any of you know their true cost?”

  “Shut him up,” yelled one of the rough men standing in front of Marie-Louise.

  “No,” said Cooper, “I’m sure you don’t. So I’ll remind all you tenderhearted idealists that before the late unpleasantness, when South Carolina had some claim to prosperity, only seventy-five thousand dollars a year could be raised from property taxes to support public schools. Most of that money came from the tax on black bondsmen—”

  “Get him down,” shouted the rough man. Marie-Louise wanted to hike up her skirts and kick him with her pointed shoe. The speaker signaled to a couple of ragged musicians, who began to play “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” on fifes.

  “Damn you, I’ll have my say.” Cooper was flushed. Marie-Louise grew alarmed. She didn’t see the young man drop back and circle the crowd, coming toward her.

  Over the music Cooper shouted, “The stupendous and ill-conceived school scheme is estimated to cost nearly a million dollars a year. It can only come from taxes. If you vote for the Republican-inspired constitution, you’ll be placing an intolerable burden on the state. South Carolina is on her knees, struggling to rise. This school plan will keep her down forever.”

  A woman shook her parasol at him. “It isn’t taxes you hate. It’s the colored people.”

  The rough man yelled, “Either step down or we’ll pull you down.”

  Marie-Louise didn’t pause to consider her next action. She just beat the man’s shoulder twice, hard, with her Virgil. “Let him alone. He has as much right to speak as you do.”

  The man turned, and so did his companion. Marie-Louise looked at them closely and grew petrified with fright. The one doing the yelling had a milky eye and wore a gold ring in his left ear. He glanced at Marie-Louise’s bosom and smirked. “They take their concubines young in Charleston, don’t they?” He said it in a hard Yankee accent.

  “Watch your mouth, sir,” said a low voice at her elbow. She turned to see the blue-eyed stranger. He confronted the two older men without apparent worry. “I believe the gentleman speaking is related to the young lady. You owe her an apology.”

  “Damn if I’ll apologize to some mush-mouthed Southron. Why you taking her part, sonny? You sound like a Northern man.”

  “Chicago,” he said with a nod. “I’m taking her part because you have the manners of a hog, and the South has no corner on respect for womanhood.”

  “Smart-mouthed little shit.” The milky-eyed man drew his fist back. A woman shrieked. Suddenly, whistling down, Cooper’s stick smashed the raised forearm. He struck a second time with the heavy gold knob, while the young man took hold of Marie-Louise’s waist, lifted her, and set her out toward the curb, away from the press of people.

  Breathing fast, the young man raised his fists defensively. It was an overly dramatic pose, but it thrilled Marie-Louise. Milk-Eye was groping for Cooper, who kept jabbing him with the ferrule of his stick. The rest of the crowd, though Republican, quickly turned against the uncouth pair. Hands restrained them. The speaker as well as several others offered exaggerated apologies.

  Cooper pushed Milk-Eye aside with his cane. The young man lowered his fists. “Thank you, sir,” Cooper said to him, brushing off his lapel. All at once he seemed to focus on the young man’s face. He frowned. “We’ve met before.”

  “Not formally, sir. We saw one another on the railroad from Coosawhatchie sometime back.”

  “Yes.” Cooper froze him with that word. The crowd began to disperse. The speaker and the musicians blowing their fifes tramped away down Meeting Street in an impromptu parade. A few others joined them. Milk-Eye stood watching Marie-Louise and her two protectors until his companion convinced him to leave.

  Cooper bowed.

  “Cooper Main, sir. Your servant.”

  “Theo German, sir. Yours. I find it a pity that freedom to disagree was not tolerated here today.”

  Cooper shrugged, very cool toward him. Marie-Louise recalled how Papa had fumed when the young Northerner gave his seat to the black woman. “The new constitution is a ferocious issue, Mr. German. Our survival hinges upon its defeat.”

  “I am nevertheless in favor, sir.”

  “So I gather, sir, you not being a Carolinian.”

  “No, sir, I am only here temporarily, due to my, ah, job. I have rooms with Mrs. Petrie in Chalmers Street.”

  Marie-Louise looked past Papa’s shoulder to the blue eyes of Theo German. She understood why he’d stated his address. Cooper suspected the reason, too.

  “Papa, you haven’t introduced me.”

  Icy, Cooper said, “My daughter, Marie-Louise Main, whom you so thoughtfully protected. I am in your debt.” Cooper took her elbow. “Shall we go?”

  Clouds above Meeting Street let through shafts of sunshine, one of which bathed the street near Hibernian Hall. Theo German’s face shone like that of some golden statue. Marie-Louise felt faint.

  The young man stepped forward abruptly. “Sir, I wonder if I might ask your permission—”

  Oh yes, she thought, dizzy with happiness. Before he could finish, Cooper literally pushed her toward the Mills House, interrupting. “Good afternoon, Mr. German.”

  In the carriage, aflame with resentment, she beat her gloved hands on her skirt. “Papa, how could you? He was about to ask permission to call.”

  “So I sensed. I don’t believe we want any Yankee adventurers polluting Tradd Street. He’s probably a Union League organizer, or something just as bad. He was a gentleman, I’ll grant you that. B
ut not enough of one to pay court to my daughter. When it’s time for beaux, I’ll inform you.”

  “Papa,” she said, nearly weeping. He ignored her. He snapped the reins and swung the horse south toward Tradd Street. They rolled right by young Theo German, still standing outside Hibernian Hall with the golden light falling on him.

  Chalmers Street, Chalmers Street, she thought, wanting to wave to him and not daring. I’m a grown woman. I’ll not be told who to love. Mrs. Petrie, Chalmers Street.

  Unknowingly, Cooper had just fueled a revolt.

  Marie-Louise spent two days composing her note, on lavender paper. In it, she thanked Theo German effusively for guarding her honor, as she put it. Then, having weighed the worst consequences and pictured herself dealing with them, she added a final paragraph inviting him to attend the spring program at Mrs. Allwick’s. Please address me here at the school if you care to reply, the note concluded. She signed her name, folded the paper, and wrote the school address on the outside. She moistened the note with a heavy floral perfume before waxing it shut.

  The freedman who did odd jobs at the school took the note for delivery, asking no questions. The next day, a note came back, briefly and boldly inscribed:

  I should be honored and privileged to accept your invitation.

  Yours obediently.

  Brvt. Capt. Theo. German

  “Captain!” she exclaimed, hiding the letter against her bosom. Then he was indeed a Yankee adventurer. Probably one of those ex-soldiers who’d come down to plunder and pillage, as Papa put it. She hoped he hadn’t been with Sherman. Papa would go insane.

  She counted the days until the spring program, which fell a week after the elections. General Canby dispatched soldiers to watch polling places throughout the state and prevent interference with black voters. The new constitution was approved by some seventy thousand votes to twenty thousand. You might have thought a hurricane had struck Tradd Street. “Only six Democrats elected for thirty-one state Senate seats! And only fourteen Democratic representatives! The other one hundred ten are damned Black Republicans!”