CHAPTER III.
MR. COLBURNE TAKES A SEGAR WITH LIEUTENANT-COLONEL CARTER.
As Colburne neared his house he saw the Lieutenant-Colonel standing inthe flare of a street lamp and looking up at the luminary with an air ofpuzzled consideration. With a temperance man's usual lack of charity topeople given to wine, the civilian judged that the soldier wasdisgracefully intoxicated, and, instead of thinking how to conduct himquietly home, was about to pass him by on the other side. TheLieutenant-Colonel turned and recognized the young man. In other statesof feeling he would have cut him there and then, on the ground that itwas not binding on him to continue a chance acquaintance. But being fullat the moment of that comprehensive love of fellow existences which someconstitutions extract from inebriating fluids, he said,
"Ah! how are you? Glad to come across you again."
Colburne nodded, smiled and stopped, saying, "Can I do anything foryou?"
"Will you smoke?" asked the Lieutenant-Colonel, offering a segar. "Buthow to light it? there's the rub. I've just broken my last match againstthis cursed wet lamp-post--never thought of the dew, you know--and wasstudying the machine itself, to see if I could get up to it and intoit."
"I have matches," said Colburne. He produced them; they lighted andwalked on together.
Being a great fancier of good segars, and of moonlit summer walks underNew Boston elms, I should like here to describe how sweetly thefragrance of the Havanas rose through the still, dewy air into theinterlacing arches of nature's cathedral aisles. The subject would haveits charms, not only for the great multitude of my brother smokers, butfor many young ladies who dearly love the smell of a segar because theylike the creatures who use them. At a later period of this history, if Isee that I am likely to have the necessary space and time, I may bloominto such pleasant episodes.
"Come to my room," said the soldier, taking the arm of the civilian."Hope you have nothing better to do. We will have a glass of ale."
Colburne would have been glad to refuse. He was modest enough to feelhimself at a disadvantage in the company of men of fashion; and moreoverhe was just sufficiently jealous of the Lieutenant-Colonel not to desireto fraternize with him. Finally, a strong suspicion troubled his mindthat this military personage, indifferent to New Boston opinions, andevidently a wine-bibber, might proceed to get publicly drunk, thusmaking a disagreeable scene, with a chance of future scandal. Why thendid not Colburne decline the invitation? Because he was young,good-natured, modest, and wanting in that social tact and courage whichmost men only acquire by much intercourse with a great variety of theirfellow creatures. The Lieutenant-Colonel's walk was the merest trifleunsteady, or at least careless, and his herculean arm, solid andknotted as an apple-tree limb, swayed repeatedly against Colburne,eliciting from him a stroke-oarsman's approbation. Proud of his ownbiceps, the young man had to acknowledge its comparative inferiority involume and texture.
"Are you a gymnast, Colonel?" he asked. "Your arm feels like it."
"Sword exercise," answered the other. "Very good thing to work off aheavy dinner. What do you do here? Boat it, eh? That's better yet, Ifancy."
"But the sword exercise is just the thing for your profession."
"Pshaw!--beg pardon. But do you suppose that we in these times everfight hand to hand? No sir. Gunpowder has killed all that."
"Perhaps there never was much real hand to hand fighting," suggestedColburne. "Look at the battle of Pharsalia. Two armies of Romans, thebest soldiers of antiquity, meet each other, and the defeated partyloses fifteen thousand men killed and wounded, while the victors loseonly about two hundred. Is that fighting? Isn't it clear that Pompey'smen began to run away when they got within about ten feet of Caesar's?"
"By Jove! you're right. Bully for you! You would make a soldier. Yes.And if Caesar's men had had long-range rifles, Pompey's men would haverun away at a hundred yards. All victories are won by moral force--bythe terror of death rather than by death itself."
"Then it is not the big battalions that carry the day," inferredColburne. "The weakest battalions will win, if they will stand."
"But they won't stand, by Jove! As soon as they see they are theweakest, they run away. Modern war is founded on the principle that oneman is afraid of two. Of course you must make allowance forcircumstances, strength of position, fortifications, superiordiscipline, and superior leadership. Circumstances are sometimes strongenough to neutralize numbers.--Look here. Are you interested in thesematters? Why don't you go into the army? What the devil are you stayingat home for when the whole nation is arming, or will soon have to arm?"
"I"--stammered Colburne--"I _have_ thought of applying for aquartermaster's position."
"A quartermaster's!" exclaimed the Lieutenant-Colonel, without seekingto disguise his contempt. "What for? To keep out of the fighting?"
"No," said Colburne, meekly. "But I do know a little of the ways ofbusiness, and I know nothing of tactics and discipline. I could no moredrill a company than I could sail a ship. I should be like the man whomounted such a tall horse that he not only couldn't manage him, butcouldn't get off till he was thrown off. I should be dismissed forincompetency."
"But you can learn all that. You can learn in a month. You are a collegeman, aint you?--you can learn more in a month than these boors from themilitia can in ten years. I tell you that the fellows who are in commandof companies in my regiment, and in all the volunteer regiments that Iknow, are not fit on an average to be corporals. The best of them arefrom fair to middling. You are a college man, aint you? Well, when I geta regiment you shall have a company in it. Come up to my quarters, andlet's talk this over."
Arrived at his room, Carter rang for Scotch ale and segars. In thecourse of half an hour he became exceedingly open-hearted, though notdrunk in the ordinary and disagreeable acceptation of the word.
"I'll tell you why I am on here," said he. "It's my mother's nativeState--old Baratarian family--Standishes, you know--historically Puritanand colonial. The Whitewoods are somehow related to me. By the way, I'ma Virginian. I suppose you think it queer to find me on this side. Noyou don't, though; you don't believe in the State Right of secession.Neither do I. I was educated a United States soldier. I follow GeneralScott. No Virginian need be ashamed to follow old Fuss and Feathers. Weused to swear by him in the army. Great Scott! the fellows said. Well,as I had to give up my father's State, I have come to my mother's. Iwant old Barataria to distinguish herself. Now's the chance. We aregoing to have a long war. I want the State to be prepared and come outstrong; it's the grandest chance she'll ever have to make herselffamous. I've been to see the Governor. I said to him, 'Governor, now'syour chance; now's the chance for Barataria; now's my chance. It's goingto be a long war. Don't depend on volunteering--it won't last. Get amilitia system ready which will classify the whole population, and bringit into the fight as fast as it's needed. Make the State a Prussia. Ifyou'll allow me, I'll draw up a plan which shall make Barataria amilitary community, and put her at the head of the Union for moral andphysical power. Appoint me your chief of staff, and I'll not only drawup the plan, but put it in force. Then give me a division, or only abrigade, and I'll show you what well-disciplined Baratarians can do onthe battle-field.' Now what do you think the Governoranswered?--Governor's a dam fool!"
"Oh, no!" protested Colburne, astonished; for the chief magistrate ofBarataria was highly respected.
"I don't mean individually--not a natural-born fool," explained theLieutenant-Colonel--"but a fool from the necessity of the case;mouthpiece, you see, of a stupid day and generation. What can he do? heasks. I admit it. He can't do anything but what Democracy permits. Losethe next election, he says. Well, I suppose he would; and that won'tanswer. Governor's wise in his day and generation, although a fool bythe eternal laws of military reason.--I don't know as I talk veryclearly. But you get at my meaning, don't you?--Well, I had a longargument, and gave it up. We must go on volunteering, and commissioningthe rusty militia-men and greasy demagogues who bring in the
companies.The rank and file is magnificent--can't be equalled--too good. But suchan infernally miserable set as the officers average! Some bright youngfellows, who can be licked into shape; the rest old deacons, tinkers,military tailors, Jew pedlars broken down stump orators; wrong-headedcubs who have learned just enough of tactics to know how not to do it.Look at the man that I, a Virginian gentleman, a West Pointer, have overme for Colonel. He's an old bloat--an old political bloat. He knows nomore of tactical evolutions than he does of the art of navigation. He'llorder a battalion which is marching division front to break intoplatoons. You don't understand that? It's about the same as--well, nevermind--it can't be done. Well, this cursed old bloat is engineering to bea General. We don't want such fellows for Generals, nor for Colonels,nor for Captains, nor for privates, by Jove! If Barataria had to fit outfrigates instead of regiments, I wonder if she would put such men incommand of them. Democracy might demand it. The Governor would knowbetter, but he might be driven to it, for fear of losing the nextelection."
"Now then," continued the Lieutenant-Colonel, "I come to business. Weshall have to raise more regiments. I shall apply for the command of oneof them, and shall get it. But I want gentlemen for my officers. I am agentleman myself, and a West Pointer. I don't want tinkers and pedlarsand country deacons. You're a college man, aint you? All right. Collegemen will do for me. I want you to take a company in my regiment, and getin as many more of your set as you can. I'm not firing blank cartridge.My tongue may be thick, but my head is clear. Will you do it?"
"I will," decided Colburne, after a moment of earnest consideration.
The problem occurred to him whether this man, clever as he was,professional soldier as he was, but apparently a follower of rash JohnBarleycorn, would be a wiser leader in the field than a green buttemperate civilian. He could not stop to settle the question, andaccepted the Lieutenant-Colonel's leadership by impulse. The latterthanked him cordially, and then laughed aloud, evidently because of thatmoment of hesitation.
"Don't think I'm this way always," he said. "Never when on duty; GreatScott! no man can say that. Indeed I'm not badly off now. If I willed itI could be as logical as friend Whitewood--I could do a problem inEuclid. But it would be a devil of an effort. You won't demand it of me,will you?"
"It's an odd thing in man," he went on gravely, "how he can governdrunkenness and even sickness. Just as though a powder-magazine shouldhave self-control enough not to explode when some one throws a live coalinto it. The only time I ever got drunk clear through, I did itdeliberately. I was to Cairo, caught there by a railroad breakdown, andhad to stay over a night. Ever at Cairo? It is the dolefullest,cursedest place! If a man is excusable anywhere for drinking himselfinsensible, it is at Cairo, Illinois. The last thing I recollect of thatevening is that I was sitting in the bar-room, feet against a pillar,debating whether I would go quite drunk, or make a fight and stay sober.I said to myself, It's Cairo, and let myself go. My next distinctrecollection is that of waking up in a railroad car. I had been halfconscious two or three times previously, but had gone to sleep again,without taking notice of my surroundings. This time I looked about me.My carpet-bag was between my feet, and my over-coat in the rack above myhead. I looked at my watch; it was two in the afternoon. I turned to thegentleman who shared my seat and said, 'Sir, will you have the goodnessto tell me where this train is going?' He stared, as you may suppose,but replied that we were going to Cincinnati. The devil we are! thoughtI; and I wanted to go to St. Louis. I afterwards came across a man whowas able to tell me how I got on the train. He said that I came down atfive in the morning, carpet-bag and over-coat in hand, settled my billin the most rational manner possible, and took the omnibus to therailroad station. Now it's my belief that I could have staved off thatdrunken fit by obstinacy. I can stave this one off. You shall see."
He emptied his glass, lighted a fresh segar big enough to floor some menwithout other aid, and commenced walking the room, taking it diagonallyfrom corner to corner, so as to gain a longer sweep.
"Don't stir," he said. "Don't mind me. Start another segar and try theale. You won't? What an inhuman monster of abstinence!"
"That is the way they bring us up in New Boston. We are so temperatethat we are disposed to outlaw the raising of rye."
"You mean in your set. There must be somebody in this city who getsjolly! there is everywhere, so far as I have travelled. You will find agreat many fellows like me, and worse, in the old army. And good reasonfor it; just think of our life. All of us couldn't have nice places incharge of arsenals, or at Newport, or on Governor's Island. I was fiveyears on the frontier and in California before I got to Baton Rouge; andthat was not so very delightful, by the way, in yellow fever seasons.Now imagine yourself in command of a company garrisoning FortWallah-Wallah on the upper Missouri, seven hundred miles from an opera,or a library, or a lady, or a mince pie, or any other civilizinginfluence. The Captain is on detached service somewhere. You are theFirst Lieutenant, and your only companion is Brown the SecondLieutenant. You mustn't be on sociable terms with the men, because youare an officer and a gentleman. You have read your few books, and talkedBrown dry. There is no shooting within five miles of the fort; and ifyou go beyond that distance, the Blackfeet will raise your hair. What isthere to save you from suicide but old-rye? That's one way we come todrink so. You are lucky. You have had no temptations, or almost none,in this little Puritan city."
"There are some bad places and people here. I don't speak of itboastingly."
"Are there?" laughed Carter. "I'm delighted to hear it, by Jove! When myfather went through college here, there wasn't a chance to learnanything wicked but hypocrisy. Chance enough for that, judging from thestories he told me. So old Whitewood is no longer the exact model of allthe New Bostonians?"
"Not even in the University. There used to be such a solemn set ofProfessors that they couldn't be recognized in the cemetery because theyhad so much the air of tombstones. But that old dark-blue lot has nearlydied out, and been succeeded by younger men of quite a pleasant ceruleantint. They have studied in Europe. They like Paris and Vienna, and otherplaces that used to be so wicked; they don't think such very small lagerof the German theologians; they accept geology, and discuss Darwin withpatience."
"Don't get out of my range. Who the devil is Darwin? Never mind; I'lltake him for granted; go on with your new-school Professors."
"Oh, I havn't much to say about them. They are quite agreeable. They arewhat I call men of the world--though I suppose I hardly know what a manof the world is. I dare say I am like the mouse who took the first dogthat he saw for the elephant that he had heard of."
The Lieutenant-Colonel stopped his walk and surveyed him, hands inpockets, a smile on his lip, and a silent horse-laugh in his eye.
"Men of the world, are they? By Jove! Well; perhaps so; I havn't metthem yet. But if it comes to pointing out men of the world, allow me toindicate our Louisiana friend, Ravenel. There's a fellow who can do theuniversally agreeable. You couldn't tell this evening which he likedbest, Whitewood or me; and I'll be hanged if the same man can like bothof us. When he was talking with the Professor he seemed to be saying tohimself, 'Whitewood is my blue-book;' and when he was talking with mehis whole countenance glowed with an expression which stated that'Carter is the boy.' What a diplomatist he would make! I like himimmensely. He has a charming daughter too; not beautiful exactly, butvery charming."
Colburne felt an oppression which would not allow him to discuss thequestion. At the same time he was not indignant, but only astonished,perhaps also a little pleased, at the tone of indifference with whichthe other spoke of the young lady. His soul was so occupied with thisnew train of thought that I doubt whether he heard understandingly theconversation of his interlocutor for the next few minutes. Suddenly itstruck him that Carter was entirely sober, in body and brain.
"Colonel, wouldn't you like to go on a pic-nic?" he asked abruptly.
"Pic-nic?--political thing? Why, yes; think I ought to like it; hel
palong our regiment."
"No, no; not political. I'm sorry I gave you such an exaltedexpectation; now you'll be disappointed. I mean an affair of youngladies, beaux, baskets, paper parcels, sandwiches, cold tongue, biscuitsand lemonade."
"Lemonade!" said Carter with a grimace. "Could a fellow smoke?"
"I take that liberty."
"Is Miss Ravenel going?"
"Yes."
"I accept. How do you go?"
"In an omnibus. I will see that you are taken up--say at nine o'clockto-morrow morning."
Miss Ravenel's conversion from secession to loyalty Page 6
