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diff --git a/old/53992-h/53992-h.htm b/old/53992-h/53992-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 03bab8b..0000000 --- a/old/53992-h/53992-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13418 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <title>Peggy O'Neal, by Alfred Henry Lewis</title> - <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" /> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .50em; margin-bottom: .50em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Peggy O'Neal, by Alfred Henry Lewis - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Peggy O'Neal - -Author: Alfred Henry Lewis - -Illustrator: Henry Hutt - -Release Date: January 18, 2017 [EBook #53992] -Last Updated: March 12, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEGGY O'NEAL *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - PEGGY O'NEAL - </h1> - <h2> - By Alfred Henry Lewis - </h2> - <h3> - Illustrated By Henry Hutt - </h3> - <h4> - A. J. Drexel Biddle - </h4> - <h4> - 1902 - </h4> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0007.jpg" alt="0007 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0007.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0011.jpg" alt="0011 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0011.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <h3> - TO - </h3> - <h3> - MRS. A. J. DREXEL BIDDLE - </h3> - <h3> - THIS VOLUME - </h3> - <h3> - IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>PEGGY O'NEAL</b> </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—THE LUSTROUS PEG O'NEAL </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II—PORT WINE DUFF AND PIGEON-BREAST - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III—PEG'S MEETING WITH THE MAJOR - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV—THE JEW AND HIS SPANISH SWORD - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V—REVEREND CAMPBELL AND THE MAGPIE - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—THE STORM GATHERS AGAINST PEG - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII—THE SECRETARY, SUAVE AS CREAM. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII—THE MAD CAPRICIOUS PEG </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX—THE GENERAL SELECTS HIS - SUCCESSOR. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—THE MAJOR AND PEG AT CROSSES </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI—THE GENERAL MAKES PROVERBS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII—HOW PEG WOULD WEAR THE CORAL. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—THE SON OF THE SPANISH - BULL-FIGHTER </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV.—THE FEDERAL UNION: IT MUST BE - PRESERVED. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV—HOW PEG WAS SAVED FROM PEG. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI.—LOVE'S FUNERAL IN THE SNOW. - </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - PREFACE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>oubtless I shall - tell this tale but poorly, since I have no skill of writing or rhetoric - and must, for the most part, proceed by blunt sentences and short - one-syllable words to the end that I be understood. This record is worth - while, I think, for it exhibits the growth of favor for the Union within - the General's breast; and to be corollary thereunto, his wrath against - States Rights as a doctrine, together with a hatred of Calhoun, its - champion, and what other folk were found to uphold the Vice-President's - hands in those ill courses of nullification and separation and secession - he laid down for national misguidance. I myself had been with the General, - war and peace, for thirty years on end. He was like an elder brother to - me, and I apprehended no man better. And knowing him thus well—having - his thought and feeling and emotion of politics at my mental finger-ends—it - is in my strong belief that not until he came and made oath as chief - magistrate, did he conclude his position touching this claim of right on a - state's part to nullify general law and strike her name from the roll of - our common sisterhood. I was with him, I say, when the seed of the - General's determination to stand for a union, one and indivisible, was - planted; and I witnessed its quick upgrowing and broadening until it - sheltered and shadowed with wide safety the very integrity of the country. - We had arrived at a fork in the road; the ways were about to part. Calhoun - would have led us to the left where no man could be sure of national - continuance over night. But the General ruled; he was for the right hand. - By his iron courage, and the brisk, white clearness of his mental lights, - the General was to triumph. As descendant of such victory the States were - to be unified and secession beaten down. Nor shall that hour find its - morning in all time when the mighty excellences of the General's labors - are not to have their evidence, and the tree he planted bear into the - hands of men its fruits upon the earth. He was a tremendous mechanic of - state, was General Jackson; and the world in its construction will wear - his hammer-marks with those of Cromwell and Napoleon while the ages keep - to their procession. - </p> - <p> - And yet, as may the Amazon have ultimate well-head in some rivulet as thin - as a thread, or a spring so little that a gourd might serve for its - exhaustion, so did the General come to select his place in this business - of upholding the Union against those who would pull it down, as incident - to bucklering a woman—poor and slight and feeble, she was; the - beautiful Peg O'Neal!—who for her loveliness was envied and for her - goodness was hated and for her origin as a tavern-keeper's daughter was - contemned by those proud folk who named themselves the nation's court of - fashion. - </p> - <p> - The General was a sentimentalist; justice and to do right were with him - instincts, and came not as grist ground coldly in the mills of calculated - selfishness and reason. Scotch-Irish he was in his strain; but more Irish - than the Irish and more Scotch than the Scotch, he in a manner wonderful - could in the same moment be cool and warm, and cautious and headlong, and - prudent and reckless, and close and frank—at once a Fabius and a - Scipio. In a glow of sentiment made molten hot by the recent death of his - wife—to him the Goddess of his worship—the General would - extend the power of his place and name to be a refuge for the tearful, - beautiful Peg, whom, as a child, his wife had known and loved, and whom he - now found evilly crushed beneath the social wheel. And in a rush of - feeling he rescues her and sets her high among the highest. Still, while - it owns its hot inception to impulse wholly Irish, this rescue; the - carrying out thereof, when now the General goes about it, turns to be all - Scotch in the cautious yet indomitable character of its execution. - </p> - <p> - Also, for that the General is ardent and prone to mix private passion with - his public thought, he arrives at a hatred of nullification, finding it a - prime principle among those enemies whom he faces for the sake of poor Peg - O'Neal. It is the great fire kindled of a small thing, this, the General's - war to sustain the Union against ones who already searched for its life. - He rides into the lists for a woman's name, and all unknowingly he bears - the country's future on the point of his spear. And so comes this story; - to the purpose and the hope that what in this good way the General did, - and why and how he did it, may not die and disappear upon the memories of - men. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - PEGGY O'NEAL - </h1> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I—THE LUSTROUS PEG O'NEAL - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was my fate, I - will not say my misfortune—being too proud—to dwell overmuch - with camps and caucuses and transact more than stood best for me of - politics and war. These were my schools, and they sadly served to make me - coarse and turn me hard. Sometimes I think this pity, for I was conceived, - you are to notice, with no scanty promise of fineness to my fiber. - </p> - <p> - Now I am moved to remember, and I might add almost to regret these things, - because I would like much at this pinch to color for you a right picture - of the fair, innocent, unfortunate Peg O'Neal. Yet how am I to do this?—I, - loaded of a sluggish fancy and a genius without touch! I am no Apelles to - paint an Aphrodite, no Phidias to carve a Venus; and for that matter, Peg - no Phryne to be model for such art. The best I might draw would stand - crude and cornerwise, since I own only to talents whereof the graphic - character is exhausted when they have laid out a worm fence? - </p> - <p> - It is within the rim of the possible that you may feel for me, born as I - show you with the hands of all good power of description bound close and - fast by my sides. Perhaps, too, you yourself on occasion have been stung - of high impulse and fain would soar with a poem; and then, when you - stretched for flight, found no furnishment of wings. Most folk have been - thus crowded upon by exaltations, and were prey to thoughts for the - expression of which their lisping natures lacked facility. They had the - sinew but not the soul. There was verse in them, but with it no - presentation dress of word or ornament of rhyme. They caged a tune of - music in their hearts and failed of those notes asked for to announce its - melody. - </p> - <p> - Still, our Peg, for whom we toiled—the General and I—and - intrigued and made new friendships and broke old ones, and who was in her - fortunes the beginning of policies on the General's part so lasting in - importance to the State, shall not go untold. I must make what effort lies - in me to give some notion of a beauty that claimed so much of potency in - equations of government solved of our times. - </p> - <p> - For myself, and I take no shame for it, I say freely that of the charges - laid against her by common tongue, I was convinced of her innocence by the - mere beauty of her face, just as the loveliness of that Greek girl - aforetime convinced the judges and wrought a verdict in her favor. There - be flowers so purely beautiful as to refuse and refute a stain; and such a - blossom was the lustrous Peg O'Neal. - </p> - <p> - I was first to meet with her at this time; and while I had not condemned - her in my thoughts—to condemn a woman is, for a man, the coward - part!—if I found myself possessed of views at all, they leaned to - her disfavor. I knew the General regarded Peg as a white soul suffering - wrong; but I also knew the General to be mercurial, and a blindly - passionate recruit when once enlisted. Besides, his own wife had been - throughout her life—and she most virtuous!—so lashed of - slander, that his blood was ever up and about the defence of any whose - wailing wrongs resembled her's. The General's attitudes were never the - offshoots of cold wisdom; he was one who believed the worst of a foe so - soon as it was told, and the best of a friend before ever it was told at - all. Wherefore I would not accept the General's decision touching Peg, - more than I would take other conclusions from his hands. - </p> - <p> - My conservatism and just slowness cut, however, no figure, since, as I - tell you, with the moment I clapped eyes upon her, I changed to be her - knight—her champion; and thereafter I matched even the torrid - General in fire for her cause. - </p> - <p> - I was in talk with the General when news reached me of Peg waiting in the - parlor for a meeting. It was Jim who bore me word; he peered around the - corner of the door and with rolling' eye as one who brings bad tidings, - beckoned me into the hallway. - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” I demanded impatiently. - </p> - <p> - I should tell you, perhaps, that Jim was more than twenty years my senior, - and nearing on to three score years and ten. This may explain that - attitude of mentor, not to say protector, of my morals which it was his - pleasure to hold towards me. - </p> - <p> - “What is it? Speak up!” - </p> - <p> - Jim shook his grizzled head, and his look was loaded of reproof. - </p> - <p> - “See yere, Marse Major,” said Jim; “dish yere aint Tennessee where you-all - kin do as you please. What you reckon now Marse Gen'ral would gwine say to - sech cat-an'-fiddle doin's?” - </p> - <p> - “And now what's wrong?” I inquired; humbly enough, for I was much beneath - Jim's sway. - </p> - <p> - “Marse Major, lemme ask you,” said Jim, and with that he fixed me with his - old eye like an inquisitor; “lemme ask you: Does you-all send for to meet - a young lady?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly not,” I replied. “Do you think I've come to Washington to meet - young ladies?” This last indignantly. - </p> - <p> - “How I know what you do?” retorted Jim, sullenly. “Ever see a hoss in a - new parstur? Ever see how he r'ar an' pitch an' buck-jump an' kick up? How - I know what you do?” - </p> - <p> - “Get to the point,” I said, and I drew on a fierce expression, for I was - running low of patience. - </p> - <p> - “No use, Marse Major, for you to go dom'neerin' with Jim,” and the - scoundrel shook his head admonishingly. “I'll fotch up at d' p'int fas' - enough. I tells dese yere niggahs about dis hotel that if any one comes - squanderin' 'round to see you-all, an' speshul, if any of them evil-minded - women-folks comes 'round, to let me know.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean with your evil-minded women-folks?” - </p> - <p> - “That's all right, Marse Major; Jim aint heer'n d' Bible read for mighty - likely sixty years an' not know of them evil-minded womenfolks. King - Solomon, an' him d' wisest man, was mingled up in d' midst of a whole - passel of'em. An' so, when a minute back one of d' house niggahs comes up - to me an' lets on thar's a young lady in d' parlor who's waitin' for you, - I allows I'll take a look, an' try an' rummage out what she wants. With - that, I kinder loiters into d' parlor like I'm sent a urrent; an' sho! - Marse Major, if thar don't sot a girl who's that beautiful she's plumb - reedic'lous. - </p> - <p> - “'Be you-all wantin' to meet d' Marse Major?' I says. - </p> - <p> - “She say, 'Yes; I'm d' wife of his friend, Mr. Eaton.' - </p> - <p> - “'Mr. Eaton,' I says, 'who lives down south of Nashville at Franklin Co't - House?' - </p> - <p> - “She say, 'Yes; I'm Mrs. Eaton.' - </p> - <p> - “Course I knows dish yere aint so. An' I'm partic'lar skeered about you, - besides, since she's so handsome. It's d' beautiful ones makes all d' - trouble; a homely woman aint no more harm than squinch owls, that's Jim's - sperience. But nacherally, Marse Major, I don't tell dish yere girl she's - lyin'; I'm too well brought up. So I says: - </p> - <p> - “'I've knowed Mr. Eaton since befo' d' las' wah with d' British what Marse - Gen'ral done whups at Noo Aw-leans; Mr. Eaton's a kin to my Marse Major. - I've been down by his place a hun'red times at Franklin; an' you hyar me, - honey! they aint been no mention about you bein' his wife in Tennessee.' - </p> - <p> - “She smile a bit at this—she's seemin' trifle sad like—an' - says: 'Mr. Eaton an' me, we get married only 'bout a month ago in - Wash'ton.' An' so she tell me ag'in to go fotch you; an' arter sort o' - hesitatin' 'round between a balk an' a break-down for a while, settlin' on - d' properest move, I reckons mebbe I'd better come an' tell you arter - all.” - </p> - <p> - “It's as well you did,” I said, turning back to the General's door. - </p> - <p> - “That's all right, Marse Major.” Jim called this after me in severe tones. - “I'm boun' I'm gwine look arter you-all jes' d' same.” Then in a wheedling - voice: “Say, Marse Major, would you-all mind if I he'ps myse'f to a dram - outen d' demijohn in your closet? What with all dish yere talkin' an' - frettin' about you, Jim's mouth is as dry as a kivered bridge.” - </p> - <p> - “One, mind you; no more.” The General, in converse with a caller, was - considering Van Buren, and party lines and issues in New York. I would - have told him of Peg, and that I was about to see her, but the presence of - his visitor put it out of reach. On the whole, I decided, it would be as - well to meet Peg first and tell the General later. I interrupted, and - explained that I was going to the parlors for a moment; we would get to - his letters on my return. - </p> - <p> - “No hurry, Major, no hurry,” he replied; “I'm quite content to put them - off. I am already seized on by the spirit of laziness that pervades this - place, and which caused Randolph to say: 'I never wind my watch whilst in - Washington, as I feel that all time spent here is wasted and thrown away.' - It's not quite that bad, perhaps; still, we'll willingly put off the - letters until to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - And now, since I am to tell you of Peg, I would that I possessed somewhat - the art of petticoats—a little polite skill for flounce and - farthingale—some shadow of a parlor or a boudoir grace. - </p> - <p> - Peg, then, was the truth itself for height and mould, and her pretty hands - and feet told of no tavern in their genesis, even though the lip of envy - did. I give you my first impression of her, earned eye to eye and ear to - voice. I say the latter because her voice was as honey and wove conviction - like a spell. She had your pansy face; a face regular and ineffably good. - And how any, even a woman and a rival, might look her deep eyes through - and doubt her, masters conjecture! Peg's hair—hanging in long curls - about her neck and shoulders—was black; fine as silk or cobwebs; - black, yet with the gold-black of the black Saxon. And her skin was snow - and peach-blow. There was meditation, too, in her wide brow; and her - mouth, with teeth like milk, was both firm and loving. Also, there was - that in her atmosphere to bring brave men to her. It was upon one in a - moment that Peg, while tender to be hurt, was hard to conquer; sensitive, - she would feel her fate; yet she would face it—face it with the - faithful courage of an angel. But I'll have done; why furnish the - fragments and queer splinters of a portrait I'm too inaptly dull to offer - as a whole! - </p> - <p> - Peg O'Neal came this day, and making herself known, gave me my first sight - of her in the drawing room of the Indian Queen. There was a look about - her, lonely, bitter and pathetic; a look that should belong with one - hunted, and who waits to be made sure of her friends. She gave me her - hand; white and soft and small and yielding—it was as though I took - hold on a lily. My heart went out to her before she spoke; as I've - confessed, I was warm for her cause on the instant. - </p> - <p> - Peg had read the cabinet list in the paper; I think, too, she foresaw the - woe and worry to become the tail of it more clearly than did either the - General or myself, or even the port-wine Duff Green. It was of that she - desired to talk; she would see the General; but first she would see me. - </p> - <p> - This preference for myself before the General was a common custom into - which Peg readily stepped. All who knew the General, knew me for his other - self; and I will say, despite the inference of a boast, knew me for his - calmer and more prudent self. - </p> - <p> - Peg did not come to me until the afternoon, and before I go to the story - of our converse it would be as well to sketch a handful of incidents which - preceded her advent and which should be understood to teach one the whole - truth of this tale. - </p> - <p> - This Washington day I have on my mind's edge, being the one next before - the day Peg came to me, was the fourteenth of February, St. Valentine's - Day, albeit the latter has nothing of part herein. We had arrived, the - General and myself, on the tenth, and housed at the Indian Queen. This - tavern was not the tavern of old, when that O'Neal who was Peg's father - prevailed as master, yet even under new control—and with a born - conservative like myself, the new is ever the defective—it was a - first hostel of the capital. - </p> - <p> - Our advent discovered a crust of ice and snow to our feet, and a mortal - sharpness in the air that was like a tonic. During those three or four - days since our coming, a thaw had befallen which left thoroughfares a - discouraging swale of mire, and made going about a foulest possible - employ. Withal, as though sponsor for the softening temperature, there - descended a fog—fairly a hash of misty rain that one might wash - one's face in—and the air was as full of water as a sponge. - </p> - <p> - These were no true conditions for the General, with lungs never the - hardiest, and whose health was more than commonly broken by the blow of - his wife's death. She was soundly, deeply sleeping in her grave in - Tennessee, and the new sods above her counted but twelve weeks for their - age, when we rode into Washington. She had heard the guns and the music - which told of her hero's triumph; and then, heart-stricken of shafts of - slander aimed against her sinlessness by an opposition willing to conquer - with black means, she bowed her gentle head and passed. She was not to - multiply a White House honor by sharing it, and left her lover-husband to - go his presidential way alone unlighted of her eyes. - </p> - <p> - Those dark scenes at the Hermitage when the General's angel went from us, - and storms of grief—so utter, so beyond repair!—fair beat upon - him to a point which all but laid him beneath the grass-roots to keep her - company, have neither part nor lot in this relation. They may be guessed - at, however; and the General came forth of them woe-worn and shaken, and - with the thought in his soul that she perished by the venom of his - enemies, who had struck at his fortunes by striking at her pure repute. - </p> - <p> - After his wife died I had been in the grip of sore concern for the - General. He was but a frail man at his best; he carried lead in his - shoulder and lead in his side—private bullets stopped in private - wars, truly, yet no less, perilous for that—and when on these, plus - the angry work and wrath of a campaign, was laid this funeral farther - load, I say, I trembled for the upcome. - </p> - <p> - Our way to Washington was to be by the Cumberland and the Ohio to - Pittsburg, and then overland through the mountains, and so along the - Potomac. All Tennessee seemed come to Nashville when we went aboard; I - helping the General—whose weakness was so great he must, despite - vanity, lean visibly on my support. - </p> - <p> - As he sank exhausted into a chair, and the boat backed off the levee, I - was in blackness for the gloom I felt. I believed he would not live to see - Washington, but fall by the way; I in no sort presupposed those eight - tremendous years when the White House would be to the common folk as a - temple, with him the idle of their adoration. I could not foresee his - marvelous two presidencies, and how, his name brightening with each added - sun and followed by every eye, he would retire again to privacy and his - Hermitage, the best beloved since the even day of Jefferson. - </p> - <p> - And now as I talk to you the tears start. He is dead as I write, and gone - long ago to join his heart in the grave and lie by the side of his wife; - and it comes strangely, even to myself that I, an old man, and held as one - hard and practical and cold, should be so moved of retrospection. If it - were to remember loss and sadness and decay, such indeed might stand as - reason for emotion. But my rearward glances find only the glory of an - ever-climbing, sky-kissed high success. Mayhap it is the splendor and - white gleam of it to bring the tears, as does the glint of sunshine on the - snow. - </p> - <p> - Yet it half shames my years, these drops of feeling. And for all that, I - well recall how Dale and Overton and Houston and Blair—no meek - souls, these!—were as much commoved when claimed of thoughts of - General Jackson;—such, for his friends, were the soft and softening - spells and powers of the man! The wet eyes of these, stern and rock-hewn, - may save me from the stain of doting weakness. But I loiter—I lose - time when there is none to lose—a wandering delay is the crime - common of old age. - </p> - <p> - Our journey to Washington was disputed by applause at every foot; the - double banks of the Cumberland and the Ohio appeared to have become alike - the rendezvous of South and West and North. Bands brayed and “committees” - came aboard; a dozen times was the boat tied up and the General borne - ashore as on a wave to greet and be greeted of roaring thousands who - hailed him their Messiah of politics and one come for their redemption. - From the first our progress was hedged and canopied of the never-ceasing - shout, “Hurrah! for Jackson!” Night and day it was in our ears, and our - very sleep gave way and fled before it. - </p> - <p> - To say that through this I held no alarms for the General would be but an - idle picture of my feelings. Verily! I more than once found my heart in my - mouth lest the gusty multitude that struggled and fought to touch his hand - should kill him for mere kindness. - </p> - <p> - And yet he would thrive and be fat upon it, if such word by any padding of - hyperbole may be made to fit his slim meagerness. His gray eye would - light, his lean cheek show a color, his milky bristle of hair turn more - stiffly, jauntily spinous with each of these encounters. When I would - remonstrate and cite his sick weakness to forbid, he would shake his head - and smile—his closest journey to a laugh. Then he would say: - </p> - <p> - “Major, you don't know me! These shoutings are as medicine in wine. These - people love me; I take strength from their hands; their applause is my - food and I live and grow heavy by it.” - </p> - <p> - And so this boisterousness of endorsement went on; and the General reveled - while I sat sour with terror lest from it he sicken and die, stricken by - the very evidences of his popularity. He was right and I was wrong; he - came from this general joy, which with every hour arose and laid actual - hands upon him, as one remade. - </p> - <p> - Some pages back I pitched upon the fourteenth as a day much in my mind, - and the fourth since we came upon the capital. I begin narration properly - with that day, regarding what has gone before as preliminary and given for - a clearer knowledge of that which is to follow as it unfolds. - </p> - <p> - There were matters to take place upon the fourteenth which served to fix - it in my memory. The first was a mishap to the General himself. - </p> - <p> - For the rain and the mist and the mire, we that day found ourselves much - confined to the Indian Queen. This might be called no hardship of - loneliness since, despite the mud, all the world would pull on its boots - to visit us. The General, whose dyspepsia was dominant, had eaten only a - little rice. This he took at short intervals; yet such dwarf spoonfuls - were they, that in the end the aggregate was smallish, and he found - himself weakly languid as a reward. - </p> - <p> - The General had been to a casual reception below to meet official folk—they - were building hopes for themselves of what should follow inauguration, - still eighteen days away—and being done with them, and uneasy with - the weariness of their call, was returning to his room. At the stair's - head he stumbled; as he fell he griped his side and gave a smothered sob - of pain. - </p> - <p> - I, who walked close behind, was well aware of what had chanced. The old - Dickenson wound was imperfectly healed, and a sharp wrench would tear it - and set it to inward hemorrhage. Swiftly I raised him, and since it was no - vast distance down the hall, nor he a mighty burden, carried him to his - chamber. - </p> - <p> - “Call Augustus,” he said, his voice pain-lowered to a whisper. - </p> - <p> - Placing a chair I gave him a mouthful of whisky by way of a stimulant. - Augustus was the black body-servant who had come with us from the - Hermitage. I knew what the summoning of Augustus argued, yet was handless - to interfere. The General when stricken—as he had been many times—in - the fashion I have named, was used to open a vein, and so bleed himself - comfortably till he felt relief. More than once I had denounced such - backwoods surgery as not only dangerous but revolting, and wanting - foundations of common sense. There was no logic for it, I said; and it - stood for the spirit of the preposterous when one bled internally to bleed - one's self externally as remedy. As well might I have spoken with the - trees. The General made his stubborn laws and lived them. - </p> - <p> - “There was a Frenchman,” observed the General on some occasion of my - remonstrance, “who said that at forty every man was either a fool or a - doctor. Now I am more than forty; and I'm no fool.” - </p> - <p> - Augustus, a tawny, handsome black, arrived in a hurry splendidly - promissory of zeal. Being deft of practice, he whipped a bandage sharply - tight about the General's arm above the elbow—as starved as a - rake-handle, that arm, yet strong as hickory bough! Then the General with - his jackknife nicked a vein well down the lower arm, and proceeded to - bleed himself most contentedly and liberally, while Augustus held a basin. - </p> - <p> - Following these horse-leech experiments, for so I scrupled not to brand - them, the General, wrapped in a dressing gown, was put to rest upon a - sofa. It would have been the bed; but it stood not yet three of the - afternoon, and it was a saying of the General's that no man should take to - his bed by daylight until he came to die. On the lounge, and, as he - declared, much uplifted of health, Augustus and I left him, with the - whisky easily at hand in event of over-creeping faintness. - </p> - <p> - After the lapse of an hour I returned. There lay that upon me which, as I - saw the future, it was proper enough should be said to the General. And - since he was like to oppose my counsel, as folk commonly do what is patent - for their peace, sticking as stoutly for the seeds of trouble as though - they were indeed the seeds of righteousness, I reckoned aid perhaps from - his present weak, low state. He would lack somewhat his vivacity, and - might be drawn with less of struggle to my manner of thought. - </p> - <p> - Thus abode the coil: It was the evening before when the General told me - how he would propose Eaton to be his Secretary of War, and asked my view. - I had withheld opinion at the time, my caution evoking a dull flare of - that heat-lightning of the General's temper, which last commodity was - never deeply in abeyance. I would tell him later, I said; and following a - rumble of contempt on his part for the sluggishness of my friendship for - Eaton—for that gentleman and I for long had been friends—the - subject was for the moment at rest. Now was the time ripe to dispute this - question with him; so I bethought, as I wended towards his door. - </p> - <p> - Coming to his chamber I tapped, and then pushed in without wait, as was my - wont. The windows were to the west where at this hour the sun should have - been; but such was the veil of fog without that the day seemed already - spent and sinking into twilight. - </p> - <p> - The great fire on the hearth—honest, crackling logs to feed it, - since the General would tolerate no less—set the room in a bloom of - light that came close to marking the candle that burned at his elbow a - profligacy. He had lifted himself from the sofa where Augustus and I - placed him, and was seated before a little table. On it, propped against - the <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, a book whereof he never tired, stood a - miniature of his wife. Throughout the day he wore this little painting - beneath his garments and hung about his neck by a black cord. His wife had - given it him in the old days and when their love was new. Each night, when - folk pray and con the Bible, he would have this picture before him; and - with it her hymn-book to read her favorite songs. This was his devotion—his - worship; it was as though he communed with her, his Saint Rachel, on the - work of the day and its duties. To the time of his death he did this; and - for whatever was good of his performing he would lay it to these - conferences, sweet at once and sad, when in the dusk borderlands of day - and night he met and talked with the soft shadow of his heart's own. - </p> - <p> - As I came into the room the General raised his eyes. They were - tear-brimmed and he made no shift to hide them. - </p> - <p> - “Major,” he said with trembling lip, gazing the while on the miniature, - “she strove to make me a Christian. I gave her my promise to become a - Christian. And so I shall when once I'm done with office and back again at - home. I would become one now, were it within the domain of what might be. - But who is he who could unite politics and Christ? I'm no hypocrite, - Major; you know that! You know what a politician is; you know what a - Christian should be. No man may be both, Major; no man may be both.” - </p> - <p> - “You are not a politician,” I retorted. “You are a president.” - </p> - <p> - This I got off with a gruff air of harshness, not, however, because it - drew a true distinction. I sought to call him from his present mood. The - General was unusual in so far that a best step towards comforting him was - to irritate him. In his breast he loved collision, and might even leave - mourning for a war. - </p> - <p> - “I am a president and not a politician!” This with a gather of scorn. “And - pray, when is a president not a politician?” - </p> - <p> - With a deprecatory gesture I dismissed the point. - </p> - <p> - “Let that remain,” I replied, “as a question wherewith to rack some - further moment. I came for another matter.” The General turned a keen eye - upon me. “You spoke of Eaton for your portfolio of war,” I continued. - </p> - <p> - “Have you considered what objection might lodge against such course?” - </p> - <p> - “Go on,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “General, I misdoubt the wisdom of the step. I will make my word plain. - There is none to be more the friend of Eaton than myself, none to respect - him more. But, sir, you are aware of what folk say.” - </p> - <p> - “And what do folk say?” Anger stood red on the brow of the General as a - banner is flung from a battlement. “What do folk say?” - </p> - <p> - “You should consider coolly, General,” I went on. Ever cool myself, it was - for that the General valued my counsel. “You know this tale as well as I. - It has been told me more than once within four days. Light and - laughter-loving, the beautiful Peg O'Neal grows up, the daughter of this - very tavern that shelters us. She weds Timberlake, the purser. He is here; - then he is at sea. The girlish Peg is still a girl. She goes to rout and - ball; she is gay and high and does not mope and wear demure half-weeds as - good opinion holds one should whose love is on the sea among the storms. - There come whisper and nod and innuendo—the pot of Washington - scandal, they tell me, is made easily to boil. Then in the Mediterranean - Timberlake cuts his throat; and next, as one who makes sure work, leaps - overboard into fifty fathoms. The beautiful Peg does not become - distinguished for her grief. This, and the throat-cutting, augment talk, - and tongues wag doubly. Within the year thereafter, and not two months - ago, she and our friend Eaton are wed. Gossip gains a new impulse; heads - nod and there are wise leers. I put this to you, General, with a rude - coarseness almost ferocious; I do so for a purpose. I put it as your - enemies will put it when, should you call Eaton to your cabinet, they - seize on the story to your injury. It is not what you and I say or - believe; that is not the question. It is what will your enemies tell and - the world accept.” - </p> - <p> - While I was talking, the General filled a clay pipe; in tobacco he found - calm. Holding the pipe by its long reed stem he strode up and down, - puffing cloudily. The red faded on his forehead, but his eyes were - agate-hard. I saw it would be Eaton against argument. The General's will - was set as hard and fast and cold as arctic ice. - </p> - <p> - Nor, to be fully honest, was I over-surprised or sensibly cast down; I had - fairly foreseen it all. You may question why, then, I made this vigorous - head; and Eaton my friend. - </p> - <p> - It is a proper curiosity. Freely, I am constrained, as I review the past, - to regard myself as sometimes the victim of self-foolery. On this February - evening with the General, I make no doubt but I thought I acted wholly for - his weal and peace. And yet I was clear before I spoke, how my words would - win to no effect, and Eaton for the cabinet it would be. Thus, I now see - that my impulse, indubitably, was one wholly of vanity; as the friend - privileged to frankness and who—as he said many times and until I - consented to the fact myself—more than any other had builded him up - to be a president, I would tell my mind, air my gifts of prophecy, and - arrange myself for a future wherein the General might say, when the winds - blew high, “You saw the tempest coming and you told me.” That, as I now - see, was the very conceited, small, cheap reason of my interference; - although at the time I in no sort beheld it by that light, but felt - somewhat noble and high and as might a loyal friend. - </p> - <p> - The General for ten full minutes smoked up and down, I silent, and the - room otherwise still save for the tick-ticking of the clock. At last he - spoke smilingly and off to one side. - </p> - <p> - “You remember that sagacious doctor who was yesterday called from - Baltimore to amend me after my journey? 'I'll do anything you say,' I told - him, 'save give up coffee and tobacco.' 'Then you'll die,' he retorted, - 'since it is coffee and tobacco which are killing you.' 'Then I'll die,' I - replied, 'since coffee and tobacco are all that are left worth living - for.' He quit the place in a fury of heat, did that doctor.” - </p> - <p> - The General grinned. There was another pause; then he swung back to my - Eaton warning, while his face again showed grave and firm. - </p> - <p> - “Sir, Mrs. Eaton—Peg, as we call her—is as spotless as a star. - My wife knew her, loved her.” His tone was tender, while his glance sought - the miniature where from the table it followed him up and down with its - eyes. “Timberlake's habits were unfortunate; his suicide was due to that. - There was never a doubt of Peg in his soul; never a question of her - conduct. I know this; I do not guess. What!”—here his voice began to - rise with choler—“what! are we to guide by nameless slanders? Eaton - is my friend, honorable, high of mind, honorably married to the woman he - loves! I will not, by anything I do or fail to do, arm villification. Into - my cabinet he goes though every bow in hell be bent against it.” - </p> - <p> - Smash! went the General's pipe upon the hearth. It was the manner of the - man when driven of anger. First and last he smashed pipes by the gross. - </p> - <p> - “That is not the song of it!” I stubbornly protested. - </p> - <p> - Then I put out what was true; that he should look at this thing from the - point of his presidency. There was the public interest; his faith to the - public must be dwelt on. - </p> - <p> - “If there be a faith to the public,” he retorted, “there is also a faith - to a friend. It is a widest rumor that Eaton is to be of my cabinet. Folk - are morally sure of it as much as folk may be of what sits in the - antechamber of time. Should he not be named, that fact will be held as an - endorsement of these slanders. It will destroy Eaton; worse, it will - destroy Peg. Do you counsel that? Must that be done in the name of Public - Good?” The General now was speaking in a cold, contained way for all his - late pipe-smashing, and you are not to infer, from any verbal force - displayed, a shouting anger. Wroth he was; but, nathe-less, low-voiced and - steady as with a kind of tranquility of fury. “Must my friend be abased, - insulted—must a sweet, true woman suffer harm for that you say a - public interest asks it? Sir, you speak folly and propose disgrace. There - can be no public good to come from private wrong. And if it were so, still - I should stand the same. I've suffered many tests for the public you prate - of; I've abode the death-chances of a hundred battles; I've marched to the - public's wars when, spent and weak, I must be lifted to the saddle; in no - way have I spared or saved myself. But I will spare my friend; I'll save a - woman's honor; aye! spare and save them though your public interest perish - in their steads. You could name no altar whereon I would make such - sacrifices. The honor of a woman—to safeguard her good fame—is - the first duty of a man. It is before friendship, before patriotism; it - has precedence over things public or private. What you offer spells ruin - for a woman—ruin for Peg whom my wife has loved and kissed! I will - not do it. I say it again: Eaton for the cabinet it should be though it - were the last act of my life. More; if I were capable of beginning my - administration with treason to a friend, I might surely look to conclude - it with treason to the people.” - </p> - <p> - You are to know that the General made these long orations walking the - floor, and in a manner jerky and declamatory, though not loud. There might - be spaces of silence between sentences measured by two and three steps; - and much of the time his eye left me and he was like one who debates with - himself. - </p> - <p> - I ramble off his utterances somewhat in full; for I not only regard the - sentiments expressed as creditable to the General himself, but am disposed - to give you the truth of him as one who, while right oftener than most - men, and as set for justice as a pair of scales, on this as on every other - strong occasion did his thinking with his heart. Also, while he never said - the word, it ran in him like a torrent that his wife, were she with him, - would shield poor Peg at whatever vital cost; and of itself that was equal - to the sweeping down of reasons strong as oak or adamant. - </p> - <p> - Who was the un-observer to say that familiarity breeds contempt? He went - wide of the truth; he should have said that familiarity breeds - self-confidence. Now I knew the General—I knew the windings of his - thought as one knows his way about a house. Folk called him a hero; he was - never so to me. And yet, more than any, I knew him to be even better and - braver and broader than was his fame in the worshiping mouths of ones who - uplifted him to be a god. No, the General and I neither looked up nor - looked down when we dealt with one another; we met ever on level terms. He - was president, or shortly would be; but what then? As he himself said, - “The presidency is a condition, not an attribute, as it might be a malady - or a fortune, an evil or a good. And if I am King are you not Warwick?” - This last was his way of phrasing it when, a year or so later, I told him - of some overheard amazement concerning the easy, old-shoe terms on which I - lived with him. - </p> - <p> - Such being our attitudes one to the other, the General's oral exaltations—while - I identified them for honest and as from his soul's soul—struck on - me as more florid than was called for by an interview, private and - commonplace, between us two. But it was the nature of him; his surface - could be made to toss like some tempest-bitten ocean, while his steady - depths were calm. This may explain, if it does not excuse, that while he - thus walked about, raging and eloquent, I listened with a bit of - impatience, helping myself meanwhile to a mouthful of whisky and filling a - pipe of my own. - </p> - <p> - “Say no more,” I observed, having advantage of a pause; “say no more. - Eaton you will have it, and Eaton it shall be. But, on the whole, do you - call it good to your Peg? Do you call it wise or friendly to put her forth - to be the target for every bolt of detraction?” - </p> - <p> - The General drew over to the fire and sat down. Slowly he poured himself a - glass of spirits, and then as slowly drank it off. For some moments he - smoked in silence. - </p> - <p> - “What with this wrong to my side, Major,” he said at last, “and the blood - I've let, and all on a pale diet of rice, I fear I'm not strong enough to - argue with you. Let us agree, then, that Eaton shall go in as Secretary of - War. As for Peg—poor little Peg!—why should she be safer out - than in? Moreover, a woman must have her courage as a man has his. She - must risk slander as he risks sword, and both must front their enemies.” - He had gone on with a mighty mildness; now he began to wave his second - pipe, and I looked to have it go into the fireplace with every word. “You - say that the Eatons will be assailed. Already they are attacked; not for - themselves, but for me. They were married in January; none found fault - until, with our coming, Eaton's nearness to me was remembered and the - whisper of what I would do with him began to run abroad. The Eatons are - the victims of my feuds; it is I, through them, who am stabbed at. Sir,”—smash! - went the pipe and the General started up—“sir, it is the work of - Henry Clay—that creature of bargain and corruption! You know his - methods of the past campaign. What lie was too vile to tell? What calumny - too gross? Who so innocent as to escape his malice? Why, sir! such as Clay - and his crew would befoul Gehenna, and Satan himself might shrink aside in - shame from their companionship! Who was sure from them and the poison of - their mendacity? She died by it”—here he pointed to the miniature. - “Even the poor lost grave of my mother was not sacred to such jackals. And - now it is the Eatons—now it is the pretty, harmless Peg! So let it - be; they will find me ready. If I feel joy for a presidency it is because - it clothes my hands for their annihilation.” - </p> - <p> - There was a rap at the door. Augustus opened it and announced: “General - Green.” - </p> - <p> - “Duff Green,” said the General, as though a new thought occurred. “I think - now for once, in a way I shall turn our rotund friend to partial use.” - </p> - <p> - “And how will you compass that miracle?” I spoke rather in scorn than - curiosity since I owned to briefest admiration for the General's caller. - “It will be a novelty to see your Duff Green of use.” - </p> - <p> - “Why then,” returned the General, “the benefit I propose from him is one - simple enough. I shall have him, in his paper, give this cabinet list to - the public. Once in print the thing is ended—the nails for that - cabinet building will be clinched.” - </p> - <p> - “And that is it,” cried I, in opposition. “Now to my notion it is ever - best to hold a question of this sort in abeyance until the latest moment. - Thereby you preserve for yourself room wherein to change your plan.” - </p> - <p> - “One's first aim is the surest,” responded the General. “Now I've never - known much good to come from this plan-changing of which you talk. Nor do - I believe in secrets. One should tell the people their business so soon as - ever that business is transacted. More folk are trapped and slain with - their own secrets than are saved by them. Besides one has no right to lock - a door between the people and their affairs. There go but two keys with - government, one for the treasury and the other for the gaol, and every - officer from path-master to President should be made to study this lesson - of the keys until he can repeat it.” - </p> - <p> - To this lecture I made no retort whether of comment, denial or agreement. - These abstractions delighted him; and in this instance I too listened with - pleasure, not so much because of the deep-sea wisdom disclosed as for that - tranquility of spirit after his tossing anger against Clay, which their - utterance would seem to bring him. As it stood the General's high temper - had faded and his heat was much cooled away when Duff Green appeared. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II—PORT WINE DUFF AND PIGEON-BREAST - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>uff Green was a - round, insincere, self-seeking, suave, smooth, porpoise-body of a - personage, small of eye, hair age-streaked, a port wine voice, wide mouth, - and nose of friendly hue. He had come to town the year before, poor and - modest, and bartered himself into possession of the <i>Telegraph</i>, a - leading journal of the capital. He prospered, and prosperity had swollen - him. Nor was he without some tincture of shrewdness; for he owned the wit - in the late elections to support the General, and now would wax pompous - and come forward because of it. I did not like him, holding him selfish - and withal weak; besides, his affable complacency offended me. - </p> - <p> - The General would defend Duff Green, although I am sure he had his measure - from the start. The General, retorting to my charge of selfishness and - vanity, would say: “Of course, Duff's selfish; that's why I enjoy him. I - like selfish folk; they are easy to understand, easy to start or stop. One - has but to bait his trap with their interest and, presto! there they are - in the morning caught sharp and fast for his use. And again, your selfish - folk are content with much less than will suffice your disinterested folk - who truly love you.” This was one of the General's efforts at sarcasm, and - delivered with the sly flicker of a smile. - </p> - <p> - “But the smug vanity of Duff Green!” I would urge. “I could wish you half - so tremendous as he deems himself.” - </p> - <p> - “Fie! Major, fie!” would be the reply; “vanity is the powder in the gun, - the impulse that sends the bullet home. It is the sails of the ship and - the reason of motion to that hull of merit which might make no voyage - without. Vanity has won more battles than patriotism; wanting vanity, - Caesar would have crossed no Rubicon, and Napoleon would have begun, not - ended, with Waterloo.” - </p> - <p> - This fashion of bicker fell often forth between the General and myself; - indeed, we were in frequent disagreement, he being one who, while holding - notions of his own wisdom, was withal much imposed against by pretences on - the false parts of men whom I saw through as through a ladder; and so I - told him. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! excellent evening, Mr. President! excellent evening, Major—ah!” - exclaimed Duff Green, his friendly nose aflame, and port wine tones, - satisfied and unctuous. Coming forward, he took first the General's hand - and then mine. For all the warmth of his countenance, his hand had the - cold feel of a fish, and I did not, myself, insist on its retention beyond - the plain limits of politeness. “Excellent evening, Mr. President,” he - repeated, glowing the while, in anticipation doubtless of public printing - to come. - </p> - <p> - “You are not hard to suit for your evening, Duff,” returned the General, - whose fault it was to be on terms too common with many unworthy of the - honor. “Now, I call this the scandalous evening of a scandalous day. I say - 'scandalous' because muddy,” explained the General. - </p> - <p> - In the talk to follow it developed that the purpose of Duff Green's visit - was no more noble than to just wring future patronage from the General. - Especially did our caller have his watery eye on the governorship of - Florida, a post, for its palms and orange groves and flowers and summer - seas, and mayhap the social life of St. Augustine—aristocratic, and - still on Spanish stilts—much quested; and the reason of a deal of - court paid the General by rich ones who, having money, hungered for an - opening to its display. Duff Green even suggested, tentatively, the name - of a certain wealthy thick-skull. He said the notable in hand was a prime - friend of Calhoun; that his selection would be held vastly a compliment—a - flower to his nose, indeed!—by the Vice-President. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sir!” observed the General, whose familiarity diminished as the - place-hunting eagerness of the worthy Duff Green began to gain expression; - “why, sir, the man you tell of lacks brains. It cannot be; say no more. - We'll find some safer way to flatter the Vice-President than by periling - public service in the hands of a weakling.” - </p> - <p> - “Weakling!” repeated Duff Green, while the friendly nose began to bleach; - “weakling! Mr. President, this gentleman—this friend of Calhoun—is - one of our richest people.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, I believe he did inherit a fortune,” responded the General - carelessly; “or perhaps a more proper phrasing would make the fortune - inherit him. But that is scant reason why he should mismanage a gravely - important trust. The governorship of Florida is not all citron groves and - mocking birds; there is responsible work to do; and the territory, I tell - you, shall not be wasted by a fool. But cheer up, Duff,”—the visitor - was looking blue and the hue of friendship had quite departed his nose—“cheer - thou up! Perchance we may yet discover some office wherein your ambitious - wittol of wealth—whom the Vice-President loves!—may be great - without being dangerous.” - </p> - <p> - Duff Green was no more urgent on the point of a Florida governorship. He - was not so dim but he saw his failure and accepted it with what grace he - might. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know how the Vice-President may take it!” he murmured at the - close. - </p> - <p> - “As to that,” said the General, and his words fell with a suspicious - sharpness, as from one smelling to a threat; “as to that, the - Vice-President must sustain himself very patiently. I know those who would - hold other conduct on the Vice-President's part as excessively misplaced. - They might even teach the Vice-President a similar conclusion. You should - tell him that; since I see you act by his request and as his agent.” - </p> - <p> - Here the General looked hard at Duff Green. Already I caught a shadow of - those jealous differences to come between the General and Calhoun—differences - that would seem, for the separation of the White House and the - Vice-Presidency, constructed of the Constitution. These offices never have - agreed—never have been true friends in any administration. It was - the less important in this instance, since, secretly and unknown to him, - Calhoun for over a decade had been the General's enemy. On that February - evening which Duff Green so distinguished as “excellent” the General was - by no means distant from the fact's discovery. - </p> - <p> - “You do wrong, Mr. President,” faltered Duff Green, his affable nose as - pale as paper now, “when you say I am Calhoun's agent. The Vice-President - knows nothing of this. It was by accident I became aware of his anxiety - touching the Florida governorship. I give you my honor, Mr. President; I - give you my honor!” - </p> - <p> - “Let it pass; it's of no mighty consequence.” Then impatiently, “Don't - call me 'Mr. President' until I'm President. It will be bad enough after - inauguration, I take it.” - </p> - <p> - Here poor Duff Green was visibly disturbed. I said nothing to relieve him. - Indeed, I didn't utter a dozen words while he remained; as I've told you, - I misliked Duff Green, with his face the color of a violin and his airs of - fussy consequence. - </p> - <p> - “But here, Duff,” resumed the General, coming himself to the rescue of our - visitor, who might be described as sinking for the third and last time in - the deep waters of his own confusion, “here, Duff, is something I much - desire you to do. It is a list of the cabinet as I intend its construction - on the hocks of my inaugural. There are reasons why it should be printed; - the Major”—here he indicated me, and with a dry note in his voice - which I understood—“approves the names and thinks they should be - given to the public. Get them in the next <i>Telegraph</i>. Here, I'll - read them.” And the General reached for his horn-framed glasses and began - from a paper he'd taken from his pocket. “Van Buren, Secretary of State; - Ingham, the Treasury; Eaton, for the War Office.” I saw Duff Green look - sharply up. Somehow, while I found protest in his glance, I could not - believe the promised cabinet selection of Eaton unpleasant to him. From - that moment I knew him for no well-wisher of the General—to be thus - pleased with a prospect of hot water! The General drove ahead: “Branch for - the Navy; Berrien for the Department of Justice; and lastly, Barry, - Postmaster General. There you have it. New York, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, - North Carolina, Georgia, and Kentucky; the North, the West, and the South—two - each; and none for the Yankee East, since to that hard region where men, - to make them smart, are raised on foxes' ears and thistle tops, I owe no - debts. There is the list. Let me see it in print.” And the General placed - the paper in Duff Green's hands. - </p> - <p> - The General turned to fill his infallible pipe; he would have it ready to - shatter into smithereens should provocation come. Duff Green fingered the - folded paper with timid air while the General fished for a coal with the - little table tongs. For myself, I said nothing; since it was to be done, - it might as well see ink—that cabinet list. As the General - straightened his tall, slight form, his tobacco-lighting accomplished, - Duff Green, breathing pursily from a dash of trepidation, could not - forbear comment. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose you would like my thoughts on this list?” Duff Green took care - to give his supposition the rising turn of query. - </p> - <p> - “And why do you suppose so?” said the General, his tone something grim. - </p> - <p> - “Only because I supposed you'd like the thoughts of everybody.” Duff Green - fawned with his voice in a half-fright. It is ill to pester a lion, being - no lion-tamer. “I supposed you'd like the thoughts of everybody,” he - repeated. - </p> - <p> - “Quite right!” said the General, pretending return of sunshine. “And what - are your thoughts?” - </p> - <p> - “The list will be welcome,” he answered, gaining confidence from the - General's mollified features; “the list will be welcome save in one - particular. The selection for your Secretary of War, Mr. President—” - </p> - <p> - Here Duff Green came to a stop, utterance wholly at a halt. Nor did I - blame him, for now the General gloomed in truly savage sort. The General - waved his pipe; but he did not break it. Probably he did not think Duff - Green worth a pipe. - </p> - <p> - “And what of Mr. Eaton?” demanded the General at last. - </p> - <p> - “It's Mrs. Eaton,” gasped the other, while his fear shook him until he - quaked like a custard; “it's Mrs. Eaton. Our society will not receive her; - that is, our ladies won't. Mr. President, she's a tavern-keeper's daughter—he - kept this identical Indian Queen, as you must know. Mrs. Eaton's origin is - too low for such station; and besides they say—and—and—Mr. - President, really, our ladies won't receive her into society.” Duff Green - ran visibly aground and could go no further. - </p> - <p> - “Mark you this, Duff Green,” and the General's eyes sparkled, while he - kept his voice in hand; “mark you this! If a 'low origin' be the social - argument, then I am minded of no palace as the habitat of my own bringing - up. But here I tell you: I've not come to the White House to be ruled. - Once I was set to the defence of New Orleans. The society of that great - city was against me, and I put society under martial law; a society - legislature was thereby shocked, and I dissolved it; a society Frenchman - murmured against this, and I marched him out of town with two bayonets at - his back; a society American denounced the expulsion, and I clapped him in - irons; a society judge issued a writ of release, and I arrested him. - Incidentally, I beat Pakenham and his English, and did what I was sent to - do. Now I've been ordered to Washington by the public and given duties to - perform. I look to find here conditions of sympathy and friendship and - support. If they be not here, I'll construct them; if, being here, they - fail me, I'll supply their places. Notably, should I get up some morning - to discover myself without a newspaper”—Duff Green sweats now and - pricks up his ears—“there shall one grow instantly from the ground - like any Jonah's gourd. Your ladies will not receive Mrs. Eaton whose - 'origin is low!' And for that cogent reason Mr. Eaton must not be - Secretary of War! Man, have I been lifted to a presidency to consult wives - and gossips in picking my constitutional advisers? Go; print that list—print - it as I give it you;—go!” - </p> - <p> - The breath of the General's indignation carried Duff Green into the hall; - and even when the door was closed behind him, I could follow by ear as he - fled towards the stair with a fat shuffle that told of terror. - </p> - <p> - “The man exhausts me,” said the General, as he refilled his pipe. - </p> - <p> - “I think I'll write to Frank Blair.” - </p> - <p> - “Why?” and the General looked up. - </p> - <p> - “We should have him ready to start a Jackson paper in Washington when Duff - Green deserts.” - </p> - <p> - When I turned out on the next morning I found the fogs and mists of the - day before departed and blown aside, and a bright sky overhead. There was - no frost; but on the contrary a fine spring promise in the air that - smelled in one's nostril like the breath of budding trees. The roads, too, - were more in the way of reform, and here and there a dry spot showed in - profert of what would be. Altogether it was quite an April rather than a - February morning. I finished shaving and dressing and called Jim to brush - my coat. A hostler before he became a valet, Jim was used to accompany - these brush-labors with an aspiration like unto the escape of steam; a - sound held sovereign by him for giving a horse's coat a gloss, and - therefore good for mine. I had gone forth in an earlier day to break Jim - of these stable tricks, but, making no headway, wisely gave it up, and Jim - hissed on unchecked. There be things your African won't learn; there be - things he will learn; and effort to suppress in the one direction or - excite enterprise in the other, is thrown away. Aware on these points, I - had taken years before the bridle of restraint off Jim, and to give him - his due he went the better with his head free. - </p> - <p> - When brushed to fit Jim's notion of the spic and span, I settled my chin - in my black stock and went to call upon the General. I would know how he - held himself on the back of his bleedings and his wraths against Duff - Green. - </p> - <p> - I found him over a bowl of coffee and with a pipe going; he had been up - and breakfasted an hour before. Also, he had gotten letters to please him - and was in top spirits. - </p> - <p> - I recall looking at him as I entered his chamber, and thinking, as I noted - his quick, game-cock air, full of life and resolution, how little he - seemed that invalid who but the evening before was opening veins and lying - ill with old wounds. The difference would have amazed any save myself, who - had seen too much of him to be now astonished. The General could pull - himself together like a watch-spring. Moreover, he fed on sensation, and a - glow at his heart's roots was better for him than a meal of victuals. I've - borne witness as he rode into the wilderness to conquer Weatherford and - his Creeks, with a month-old bullet in his shoulder and its fellow in his - arm. He was so feeble and nigh death that he must be handed to his saddle - like a sack of bran, and each hour the surgeons must bathe him over with - sugar-of-lead water to keep life in his body. And yet, from the outset, - and on bad food and with the ground for his bed, he began to mend. The man - lived on sensation, I say, like a babe on milk. He would walk up and down - a line of battle and be as drunk on rifle smoke as any other on brandy. - </p> - <p> - When I came into his room I found the General—pipe and coffee for - the moment in retirement—to his own evident satisfaction, but in a - rusty raven voice I fear, humming <i>The Star Spangled Banner</i>. His - eyes were closed. He was sitting by the fire, beating out the time of the - music with pipe held like a baton in his claw-like hand, wearing meanwhile - much the air of your critic at an opera. His notes slipped frequently into - quavers, and there was constant struggle to keep from lapsing into the - savage minor key. - </p> - <p> - “You make grewsome music for a bright morning, General,” said I; “it - sounds dolefully like a wail.” - </p> - <p> - “That's a majestic tune, Major,” he replied, opening his eyes. “It never - fails to stir me, and would bear comparison with <i>Old Hundred</i>, - albeit one tells of religion and the other of patriotism. After all, what - should be the separation between true patriotism and true religion?” - </p> - <p> - “Last evening,” I retorted, “you fell upon me hip and thigh because I said - you were not a politician but a president; you would have it that the two - were synonyms for each other. Also, you declared that no one might be both - a politician and a Christian. Now you talk of no separation between - patriotism and religion. General, you go to bed in one frame and get, up - in another; you are not consistent.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll not quarrel with you,” said he, “though to say, as you would seem - to, that a president and a patriot are ever the same, is begging the - question and a far shot from the truth. I still stick for it, however, - that <i>The Star Spangled Banner</i> comes close to religion in its - influence; I've heard it given while the big guns were speaking at the - front, and I may tell you, sir, it brought water to my eyes.” - </p> - <p> - I could well believe this, for the General was as soon to shed tears as a - woman; and withal so readily excited that on least occasion his hand would - shake like a leaf in a ripple of wind. He said the latter was from coffee - and tobacco and not from natural nervousness. He was half right and half - wrong. This tremble of the hands was the vibration of that mighty - machinery of the man when the belts were thrown on for utter action. - However, this is all aside the story. - </p> - <p> - The promulgation in Duff Green's valued imprint of the General's designs - had made a stir, I warrant you. The capital community seized on the list - of coming cabineteers with wondrous relish. Delighted day by day over the - tattle of office, the local public sat up, one and all, and chattered of - the printed names like unto a coop of catbirds. Particularly, I might add, - were the Eatons tossed from tongue to tongue; folk took sides, and some - assailed while others defended, and no little heat found generation. The - General admired the buzz and clash—for his ears were open and he - heard of it—being as fond of storms as a petrel; and for myself, I - was well enough pleased. It was prior to my interview with Peg, you are to - remember, and I not yet her partisan; I half hoped those resentful clamors - against the Eatons would stay the General at the eleventh hour. - </p> - <p> - “It's not yet too late,” said I, “to have White for the war portfolio and - leave Eaton in his Senate seat. I repeat, there's the country to think - of.” - </p> - <p> - The General was blandly immovable. Said he, “I have told you how it's a - war on me as much as a war on Peg. They fight really against me; they - attack her good name in their criminal strategy. Besides, Major, you do - the country insult.” Here he gave me a smile. “The country is larger than - you would admit and not to be easily shaken or over-set. Nor are you and I - of such import as we think. The worst that both of us might do of public - evil would hardly serve to rock the boat. And though the common interest - should dip gunwale a trifle, to this side or to that, are we to throw - overboard a girl on an argument of trimming ship? I say to you for the - last time, I'm no such mariner.” - </p> - <p> - The latter sentences were vivid of spirit, and it was clear the General - had given the Eatons a deal of consideration since the night before, with - the result of stiffening his first determination. - </p> - <p> - “You'll find more folk than myself,” I observed at last, “to differ with - concerning this business. I do not believe the town is like to sit down - quietly with the arrangement.” - </p> - <p> - “We will cross that river,” said he, “when we come to it. But why, Major, - should you and I continue whirling flails over this old straw? It was - between us most thoroughly threshed last evening. I think you are right - about the town, however, and that's why I'm waiting now in my apartment. - Mud or no mud, I would else be in the saddle for a morning ride. I'm in - momentary hope of visitation by a delegation of society Redsticks, who, I - understand, connive a descent upon me. They propose at the coming pow-wow - to demand my Eaton intentions, and to make protest against them should - their most worshipful fancy disapprove.” The term “Redsticks,” which the - General employed, was a kind of border slang and the name given to the - Creek hostiles in Weatherford's war. “You must stand to my back, Major, - when the enemy arrives.” This, with a glance of humor which showed the - General as not attaching vast emphasis to the invasion or what might grow - from it. - </p> - <p> - “I will abide the shock of your Redsticks' charge,” I said, smiling with - him, “unless they bring a reserve of women to the field. With the first - dire swish of warlike crinoline I shall abandon you to the fate you've - invited. I have stood to odds; but my courage is not proof against an - angry woman.” - </p> - <p> - The General beamed in his droll fashion and, shifting our ground of talk, - said he had letters to write and needed my help. It may as well be known, - for soon or late it is bound to escape into notice, that I wrote most of - the General's letters. He was a perilous hand with a pen, and no more a - speller than a poet. - </p> - <p> - But there would be no letters written that day; for when we were in the - very act and article of beginning, Augustus came in with a card. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! Colonel Towson, U. S. A.,” read the General. “Show him up.” This last - to Augustus. “The Redsticks would seem to have dwindled to one,” observed - the General, turning to me. “This Colonel Towson was to be their - spokesman. Now he comes alone. He is a very brave or a very ignorant man.” - And the General sniffed dangerously, and yet in manner comic, as - recognizing the elements of a farce. - </p> - <p> - Colonel Towson, I must needs say, was a poor feature of a man, with a - trivial face in which the great expression was a noble opinion of himself. - He was of the cavalry, as I judged by the facings on his regimentals, for - our visitor appeared in full uniform, and for part of his regalia dragged - a clattering saber and wore fierce spurs to his heels. Plainly he was one - of your egregious fops; and his breast was trussed outward and upward with - the fullness of a pigeon's by dint of some vain contrivance inside his - garments. As he brought his heels together, and stood with a deal of - splendor just inside the door, the General ran him over with questioning - eye that took in everything from the wax on his moustache to the gilt on - his spurs. - </p> - <p> - “What do you want, sir?” demanded the General, as blunt as a hammer. - </p> - <p> - “I am Colonel Towson, Mr. President; the paymaster of the forces.” - </p> - <p> - Pigeon-breast spoke in high, affected tones, and would clip his words and - slur his “r's” in a mincing fashion beyond imitation. - </p> - <p> - “Of what forces?” - </p> - <p> - The voice was calculated to plant dismay in the other's youthful ears. I - was aware how the General's ferocity was assumed, and that deep in his - throat he was laughing. I should have laughed myself, but managed instead - to establish a firm gravity. - </p> - <p> - “Of the army, Mr. President.” - </p> - <p> - The high tone began to squeak from agitation. And no marvel! The General's - frown was enough to abash a lion. - </p> - <p> - “Are you come to me on duty?” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir, Mr. President, I—” - </p> - <p> - “Then why do you wear your side arms?” The General could throw an - expression into his face before which a hostile council of red Indians had - been known to shrink and turn gray beneath the paints wherewith they were - tallowed. The hapless Pigeon-breast was shaking in the shadow of one of - the General's most hateful looks. When the other made no response, the - General resumed: - </p> - <p> - “Note this, sir; I am not in the habit of being terrorized by the military - forces of the nation. Never again presume to come into my presence armed - and spurred, unless required by the regulations.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll retire, Mr. President, and change my apparel.” - </p> - <p> - This was feebly piped, and poor Pigeon-breast came nigh to wrinkling his - coat in attempts to bow conciliation and apology. - </p> - <p> - “State your errand, sir, now you are here,” commanded the General. “I've - no time for two visits from you.” - </p> - <p> - Pigeon-breast took what confidence he might from the General's brusque - permission, and drew from his cuff a memorandum; as it were, the heads of - a speech. Clearing his throat and collecting himself, he began what may - have been a most lucid and eloquent discourse. Its effect was lost in the - delivery, however; for what with the high thin tones, and what with the - orator's lady-like affectations, neither the General nor myself could make - more of it than of the laughter of a loon. For his own careless part, I - don't think the General paid even slight attention. If Pigeon-breast were - uttering thunder, then it was summer thunder and high and harmless, far - above his head; he minded it no more than the scraping of a fiddle at a - tavern dance. In the midst, Pigeon-breast was made to halt. The General - waved his hand as demanding silence.. - </p> - <p> - “We will shorten this. For whom do you come to me?” - </p> - <p> - “I was asked to see you on behalf of Mrs. Calhoun and the ladies of - Washington.” - </p> - <p> - The General glanced in my direction. Of course we well understood that the - mighty purpose of Pigeon-breast was to protest against Eaton's selection. - Indeed, we had caught enough of his oratory to teach us that much. - Moreover, Pigeon-breast had at one stage read aloud the article from Duff - Green's paper as the reason of his coming, and received the General's word - that the list therein set forth was authorized. - </p> - <p> - But we had caught no word of Mrs. Calhoun, and her name, when it did fall, - came as a surprise. The Vice-President's wife was the head of capital - fashion—the stately queen of the little court. Both she and her - husband, however, had called on the Eatons just following their wedding; - and now to discover the lady in the enemy's van owned a sinister as well - as unexpected side. It looked like a change of front, and much sustained - the General's surmise that this was to be a war on him rather than the - Eatons; that its purpose was politics while its source was a plot. - </p> - <p> - “Did I not tell you that here was an intrigue?” asked the General. I - continued blowing my tobacco smoke in silence by the fire. Then, with - utter suavity, the General returned to Pigeon-breast. “I must treat the - messenger with politeness because of his fair principals. Let me - understand: You come from 'Mrs. Calhoun and the ladies of Washington'?” - </p> - <p> - Pigeon-breast bowed as profoundly as he might with his armor on and gasped - assent. - </p> - <p> - “And their objections are to Mr. Eaton in the cabinet—really to Mrs. - Eaton?” - </p> - <p> - Another bow and gasp from the bold Pigeon-breast. - </p> - <p> - “Sir, give my compliments to 'Mrs. Calhoun and the ladies of Washington.' - Say I much regret that I must disregard their wishes. Say, also, they do - grave wrong, a wrong greater than mere injustice, to one who in all that - stands best is their equal. Being ladies, they should receive her as one - of themselves; being women, they should feel for her as an innocent - maligned; being Christians, they should come to her succor as one borne - upon by troubles. These would be graceful courses, and make for the glory - of 'Mrs. Calhoun and the ladies of Washington.' On the point of their - protest, however, describe me as saying that Mr. Eaton will be of my - cabinet; I shall tender him the portfolio of war and he has signified his - readiness to accept. I do not know what this may imply socially; I do not - decide that, but leave it to the better and more experienced tastes of - 'Mrs. Calhoun and the ladies of Washington.' Also, you are to do me this - favor, sir.” - </p> - <p> - Pigeon-breast, who was flattered by the General's long harangue, and - inclined to congratulate himself over a polite finale to what as an - interview at one moment was stricken of a storm, here aroused himself - smartly. - </p> - <p> - “Believe me, Mr. President, any favor in my power.” - </p> - <p> - Pigeon-breast touched his brow with prodigious military <i>eclat</i>, and - then slapped his leg with his hand like cracking off a pistol. - </p> - <p> - “Why, then, the favor is simple. Tell every enemy of mine, and especially - every friend of Henry Clay, my decision touching Mr. Eaton. I want the - news to travel fast and far. My friends will sustain Mr. Eaton; and as for - my foes, it shall go hard but I discover ways to deal with them. You may - depart, sir.” | - </p> - <p> - Pigeon-breast saluted with flattered chin in air, and went his way, and - presently we heard his saber on its jingling journey down the stair. - </p> - <p> - “I do not understand that word about the Calhouns,” observed the General, - when we were alone. “The Calhouns have already visited the Eatons and - professed friendship. As for myself, I've supposed Calhoun my supporter. - And why should he be otherwise?” The General shook his head as one - puzzled. “We must, I fear, count as against us more than Henry Clay and - his rogues of Bargain and Corruption. Well, so be it; a fight is like a - frolic in so far that 'the more, the merrier,' as a proverb, applies with - equal force to both.”. - </p> - <p> - Now that Pigeon-breast was gone, and we being alone, I remonstrated with - the General for that he had entertained our caller and submitted to his - anti-Eaton speech. I said it disparaged his dignity; that he had already - listened to Duff Green, which was bad enough, but now he must stand with - half-patient ear while yon clanking popinjay reeled off his high-pitched - opposition and that of those befeathered dames whom he professed to - represent. It was a poor beginning for a president. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sir,” retorted the General, “you, yourself, are wont to hector me at - will; I may not buy a coat without you finding fault. Major, I fear me you - are the proud one. To be sure, I stoop when I listen to such as Duff and - our martial visitor just here. But you must know what Franklin said of - stooping: 'The world is like a tunnel, dark and low of roof. He who stoops - a little as he passes through will save himself many a thump.'” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, if it were to be,” said I, “an argument of saw and proverb and slips - of dried wisdom, I might quote you not a few and redden your ears. What I - say is, you sacrifice dignity; you know it full well at that.” - </p> - <p> - The General laughed. “But I had my reasons, Major. I sent him whom you - term 'Pigeon-breast' forth to be a poultice to this Eaton inflammation. I - want to draw it to a head. Duff Green wouldn't do; he'd keep our talk to - himself, since my harshness hurt his self-love, and he's too vain to tell - a tale against himself. And again, he would be made silent with thoughts - of my possible resentment. With Pigeon-breast the cards fall differently. - Did you not remark how well I flattered? At the outset he was afraid of - me. In the end I packed his timidity in cotton-batting and sang it to - sleep; I rocked his cradle and warmed his milk for him. I called up his - pride and made him my messenger. He will tell the Eaton story to all, and - give me as his authority; that is what I seek. It is a business that will - be the sooner over by setting folk's mouths to the quarrel at once. And we - should make it short for Peg's sake. Poor Peg; it's her tavern origin that - kindles patrician wrath, and it is their aristocratic method to blow - calumny upon her. Slander, Major,”—here the General donned his - manner of philosopher—“slander, Major, is as much the resource of - your true aristocrat as poison of your Turk.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III—PEG'S MEETING WITH THE MAJOR - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>efore, in this - relation, I go to that meeting with Peg whereof I made account in the - commencement of my story, it would be proper, I think, to notice a - singular personality; one who, in intermittent fashion, will run in and - out of my history like a needle through cloth. His sewing, however, will - be of the friendliest, for he was as loyal to the General as any soul who - breathed. - </p> - <p> - Mordecai Noah, was the man's name. The General possessed a good previous - acquaintance with him, although, as in the gentle instance of Peg, I was - now to meet him for the earliest time. - </p> - <p> - Noah was a writer of plays, and an editor; moreover, he was a gentleman of - substance and celebration in New York City, where his paper did stout - service for the General the hot autumn before. Noah also had been - America's envoy to the Barbary States during the years of Madison. A - Hebrew of purest strain, Noah was of the Tribe of Judah and the House of - David, and the wiseacres of his race told his lineage, and that he was - descended of David in a right line, and would be a present King of the - Jews were it not that the latter owned neither country nor throne. However - this may have been—and indeed a true accuracy for such ancestral - cliff-climbing seems incredible, when any little slip would spoil the - whole—Noah was of culture and quiet penetration; withal cunning and - fertile to a degree. Also, I found his courage to be the steadiest; he - would fight with slight reason, and had in a duel some twenty years - before, with the first fire, killed one Cantor, a flamboyant person—the - world might well spare him—on the Charleston racetrack, respectably - at ten paces. I incline to grant space favorable to Noah; for he played - his part with an integrity as fine as his intelligence, while his own - modesty, coupled with that vulgar dislike of Jews by ones who otherwise - might have named him in the annals of that day, has operated to obscure - his name. - </p> - <p> - The General told me of Noah somewhat at length on this morning, and just - following the marching away of Pigeon-breast. He said he had sent for him, - and that any moment might bring his footfall to the door. - </p> - <p> - As he dwelt on Noah and his characteristics, I was struck by a word. It is - worth record as a sidelight on his own nature. - </p> - <p> - The General showed gusto and a lipsmacking interest in Noah's duel with - the man Cantor, and ran out every detail as one runs out a trail. I could - not forbear comment. - </p> - <p> - “How is it,” said I, “you so dote on strife?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't dote on strife. But when it comes to that, Major, war is as - natural as peace.” - </p> - <p> - “If it were so,” I returned, “still your admiration is entirely for war. - You do not love peace.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't love war so much as warriors,” he contended. “I understand your - war man; and I do not fear him. Besides, your honest soul of battles may - be made a best friend. I feel the rankle of a Benton bullet in my shoulder - as we talk together; and yet to-day a Benton faces my detractors on the - floor of the Senate. I say again, I love the natural warrior; I comprehend - him and he gives me no feeling of fear.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you tell me you can be a prey to fear?” I put the query as an element - of dispute. His reply was the word that surprised me. - </p> - <p> - “Fear?” and the General repeated the word with a sight of earnestness. - “Sir, I fear folk who won't fight; I fear preachers, Quakers. They are a - most dangerous gentry to run crosswise with.” - </p> - <p> - When Noah arrived, I was still sitting with the General. Noah was a sharp, - nimble man of middle size and years, and physically as deft and sure of - movement as a mountain goat. He took hold of my hand on being presented by - the General, and I observed how he had an iron steadiness of grip. I liked - that; I am, myself, of prodigious thews and as strong of arm as any - canebrake bear, and when folk shake hands with me, a blush of emphasis is - to my humor. I like to know that I've hold on somebody and that somebody - has hold on me. As I looked in Noah's face, I was struck with the - contradiction of his black eyes, and hair red as the fur of a fox. On the - whole, I felt pleased to know that Noah was the General's true friend; no - one would have cared for his enmity. - </p> - <p> - “I feel as though you were an old acquaintance,” said Noah, and his face - lighted as I've observed a sudden splash of sunshine to light a deep wood. - “The General has named you so often in his letters, and spoken of you so - much in what interviews I've enjoyed with him, that you are to me no - stranger.” - </p> - <p> - “And I've heard frequently and much of you,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - We from that moment were as thoroughly near to one another as though - neighbors for a decade. It was a strange concession of my nature, for men - come slowly upon terms of confidence with me, and my suspicions are known - for their restlessness. - </p> - <p> - “This is my thought, Noah,” said the General; “this is why I summoned you. - Blessed is he to whom one is not driven with explanations, and who - intuitively comprehends. You are that man, Noah.” The General's vivid - manner was a delight to me. “There's the Eaton affair—you read my - scheme of a cabinet in the paper. There's to be a war upon the Eatons—upon - me. Already I hear a dull rumble as the opposition takes its artillery - into position. I would know what this means. Is it a frill-and-ruffle - wrath alone and confined to our ladies? Or does it go deeper and plant its - tap-root in a plot? You know what I should say. Four years pass as swiftly - as four clouds; and Henry Clay would still hanker for a presidency. These - Bargain and Corruption wolves will hunt my administration for every foot - of the way, and strive to drag it down. You gather my notion, Noah. - Discover all you can; back-track this Eaton trouble—it's but just - started and the trail is short—and bring me sure word, not only of - those who foment it, but of the position held towards it by both Clay and - Calhoun. Of the hatred of the former I'm certain, and that he'll strike at - me with foulest blow. Calhoun, elected to the vice-presidency by my side, - I would have leaned on confidently; but a word has been said—the - Major heard it—that nurtures doubt. Let me learn all there is of - this tangle with what dispatch you may. My own belief goes to it that, - when all is said, search will discover Clay to be the sole, lone bug under - the chip, and Calhoun—and put it the worst way—but an - indifferent looker-on.” - </p> - <p> - Noah paid wordless attention until the General was through. Then he spoke. - “General,” said Noah, “I had already heard much when you sent for me. Your - portfolio purposes have not been a secret well kept. Also, it has been - abroad as gossip for almost a week, this ill talk of the Eatons; this - morning's publication simply served to give it volume. Thus far, and - personally, Henry Clay has had naught to do with it; his friends, however, - have been prompt to lift up the cry. You are right, too, when you regard - the rage of these wolves as threatening you. They would, as you declare, - tear down your administration. They will leave nothing untried. They will - hang on your flanks through the defiles and in the thickets of society; - and it is thus they will seek to harass you by means of the Eatons. They - reckon no slight help to their plans, General, through your high temper; I - say this for no end of irritation, but to put you on guard with yourself.” - </p> - <p> - Noah would have gone forth at once, but the General held him in speech - about Van Buren, who as present Governor of New York must resign his - Albany position to assume place as the General's premier. - </p> - <p> - Noah, who lived Van Buren's right hand of power in his own region, was - full to the brim with him, and I, who had yet to be introduced to the - little Knickerbocker, sat absorbed of his description. The General had met - Van Buren a dozen times or more; but in any sense of intimacy he was as - ignorant of his future secretary as was I myself. We therefore gave - fullest heed to Noah, who talked well, being one able to take you a man to - pieces as though he were a clock, and show in detail his wheels and - particular springs, and point you to the pendulum of motive for every hour - he struck. - </p> - <p> - We were in mid-swing of talk when I was called. It was none other than - Jim, to bring me that information—threatening, he deemed it—of - the beautiful Peg who waited my coming below. - </p> - <p> - As I was going, the door standing open, one in coat of clerical finish - presented himself without announcement, and rapped modestly on the door - frame. I had had experience of his flock and knew him by his feathers. - Plainly, he was a solicitor of subscriptions for some amiable charity. The - book in his hand spoke loudly for my surmise. - </p> - <p> - My doubt, had one been entertained, would have found dissipation by the - words of the General, as, harsh and strident, they overtook me on my way. - </p> - <p> - “No, sir,” I heard him say; “no, sir! Not one splinter!—not one - two-bit piece! I shall begin as I mean to end. You people are not to send - me out of the White House, a pauper and a beggar, as you sent poor Jim - Monroe.” - </p> - <p> - Doughtily resolved, oh General! hard without and soft within! Doughtily - resolved and weakly executed, when eight years later you are made to - borrow ten thousand dollars wherewith to pay your White House debts before - ever you wend homeward to your Hermitage! - </p> - <p> - After forty and when youth's suppleness has fled, one's fancy is as prone - to lapse into a stiff inertness as one's joints. It came then to pass, as - I journeyed parlorward along the old-fashioned corridors and stairways of - the Indian Queen, that I in nowise was visited by any glint of the - possible beauty of Peg, nor yet of her honest injuries; but rather, in - half peevish fashion, I considered her a proposed incumbrance to the - General's administration, in which I may be pardoned for saying—I, - who had been busy with trowel and plumb-line about the corner stone and - subsills of his whole career—I was smitten of an interest. Truly, I - had been Eaton's friend; and had used him well, too. Also, I was glad to - have him take Peg to wife, since such was his fancy. But why should she - and he rise subsequently up to vex folk who were like to own troubles more - properly their own? That was the question I held acridly under my tongue - as I went onward to my meeting with Peg, and I fear some blush of it - showed in my face. - </p> - <p> - Over six feet and broad as a door, I doubtless towered forbiddingly upon - her imaginings when I came up to Peg; these and the cloud on my forehead—for - I am sure one darkened it—showed her to be both brave and innocent - when, without hesitation or holding back, she put forth her hands to me. - I've told somewhere how she gave me her hand; that was wrong; she gave me - both, and gave them with a full sweep of frankness, that showed confident - at once and sad, as though with the motion of it she offered herself for - my protection. She spoke no word; her little hands lay in my great ones, - and I felt within them the beat of a sharp, small pulse as of one under - strain and stress. Once, long before, I had toiled upward with caitiff - secrecy and captured a sleeping mother-pigeon on her nest. The quick - flutter of the bird's heart beneath my fingers was as this poor throbbing - in Peg's hands. I remember, also, I was melted into the same sudden - compassion for the pigeon that seized on me for Peg. - </p> - <p> - “I came to you because you are the General's old friend,” she said. Her - sweet, large eyes were swimming, and her voice began to break. Then she - put out an effort and brought herself to bay. “I've nothing to ask; not - much to say, neither. I know what the General would do; my husband has - told me. I know, too, what it will mean of slander and insult and - suffering. And yet—I've prayed upon it; prayed and again prayed!—I - must go forward. I can not, nay, I dare not become a bar across the path - of my husband; I dare not poison his success.” - </p> - <p> - All this time I had been holding to her hands, for I felt her great beauty - and it made me forget the name of time. Besides, this was no common - meeting, but rather the making of a league and covenant between folk who - were to be allies throughout a bitter strife. I think she noticed my - awkward and scarce polite retention of her fingers, for she withdrew them, - while a little flush of color painted itself in her face. Still, she did - not do this unkindly; and, I may say, there was nothing of sentiment in my - breast which cried for rebuke or tendered her aught but honor. - </p> - <p> - “Pardon a freedom in one twice your years, but you are wondrous - beautiful.” These were my first words to Peg. “Mr. Eaton has come by - mighty fortune.” - </p> - <p> - “My beauty, as you call it,” said she, with just the shadow of a smile - that told more of pain than gladness, “has been no good ground to me and - borne me nettles for a crop. I had been happier for a wholesome - plainness.” - </p> - <p> - Then we settled to a better conversation; and the while her sweetness was - growing on me like a vine and I becoming more and more soundly her - partisan with every moment. - </p> - <p> - “My husband is much honored,” said she at one point, “and deems himself - advanced by what the General would offer. Also, he sees nothing of the - darkness into which I stare; he sees only the high station and the power - of it, and the way shines to his feet. But I know what society will do; I - have not been child and girl and woman in Washington without experience of - it. Folk will turn from me and ignore me and seek to blot me out. If it - were none save myself to be considered, I would abandon the field; I would - hunt seclusion, cultivate obscurity as if it were a rose. But am I to - become a drag on the man who loves me and gives me his name? Am I to be - fetters for his feet—a stumbling-block before him?” - </p> - <p> - “There is no need of this apprehension,” said I; “you should have a higher - spirit, since you are innocent.” - </p> - <p> - “Innocent, yes!” she cried, and her deep eyes glowed; “innocent, yes! As - heaven hears me, innocent!” Her manner dismayed me with what it unveiled - of suffering. Then in a lower tone, and with a kindle of that cynicism to - come upon folk who, working no evil and doing no wrong, are yet made to - find themselves fronted of adverse tides and blown against by winds of - cruelty, “Innocent, yes; but what relief comes then? I am young; many are - still children with my years. And, thanks to a tavern bringing up,”—here - was hardness now—“I have so seen into the world's heart as to know - that it is better to be a rogue called honest, than honest and called a - rogue. That is true among men; I tell you it is doubly true among women.” - </p> - <p> - To be open about it, I was shocked; not that what Peg said was either - foolish or untrue. But to be capable of such talk, and she with that - loving, patient mouth, showed how woeful must have been the lesson. But it - gave me none the less a deal of sureness for the level character of her - intellect, and I saw she carried within her head the rudiments of sense. - </p> - <p> - “What is it you would ask of me?” said I, at last. “I can only promise - beforehand anything in my power.” - </p> - <p> - “I would ask nothing,” she replied, “save the assurance that you will be - my husband's friend and mine. I see grief on its way as one sees a storm - creep up the sky. Oh!” she suddenly cried with a sparkle of tears, “my - husband! He must not be made ashamed for me! Rather than that, I would - die!” - </p> - <p> - Peg bowed her flower-like head and wept, I, sitting just across, doing - nothing, saying nothing; which conduct was wise on my part, albeit I - hadn't the wit to see it at the time, and was simply daunted to silence by - a sorrow I knew not how to check. It was a tempest, truly, and swayed and - bent her like a willow in a wind. At last she overtook herself; she smiled - with all the brightness of nature, or the sun after a flurry of rain. - </p> - <p> - “It will do me good,” she said; “and when the time comes I will be braver - than you now think.” - </p> - <p> - When Peg smiled she gave me a flash of white behind the full red of her - lips. Then I noticed a peculiar matter. She wanted the two teeth that, one - on each side of the middle teeth, should grow between the latter and the - eye teeth. When I say she wanted these, you are not to understand she once - owned them and that they were lost. These teeth had never been; where six - should have grown there were but four; and these, set evenly and with - dainty spaces between, took up the room, each claiming its just share. The - teeth were as white as rice, short and broad and strong, and the eye teeth - sharply pointed like those of a leopard. There gleamed, too, a shimmer of - ferocity about these teeth which called for all Peg's tenderness of mouth, - aye! even that sadness which lurked in plaintive shadows about the - corners, to correct. And yet what struck one as a blemish went on to be a - source of fascination and grew into the little lady's chiefest charm—these - separated sharp white leopard teeth of Peg's. - </p> - <p> - When I came into the room I was thinking on the hardships to the General's - administration; now I regarded nothing save the perils of Peg herself. - With that on my soul I started, man-fashion, to talk courageously. - </p> - <p> - “After all, what is there to cower from?” said I. “You know society, you - say; doubtless that is true. I confess I do not, since this is almost my - first visit to the town. But I know men, and of what else is society - compounded? Their heaviest frown, if one but think coolly and be sure of - one's self, should not weigh down a feather.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes,” she cried, “you know men. But do you know women? Men are as so - many camp followers of society; it is the women who make the fighting - line. And oh! their shafts are tipped with venom!” - </p> - <p> - “It cannot be so bad,” I insisted. “So-called society, which must take on - somewhat the character of come-and-go with the ebb and flow of - administrations, begins with the White House, does it not?” - </p> - <p> - “We will do our best,” smiled Peg, without replying to my question. - </p> - <p> - Probably she comprehended the hopeless sort of my ignorance and the - uselessness of efforts to set forth to me the “Cabinet Circle,” the - “Senate Circle,” the “Supreme Court Circle,” and those dozen other - mysterious rings within rings, wheels within wheels, which the complicated - perfection of capital social life offers for the confusion of folk. - </p> - <p> - “Unquestionably, the White House,” Peg went on, “is the citadel, the great - tower, and we can always retreat to that. We will do well enough; but oh!”—here - Peg laid her hand like a rose leaf on my arm—“you do not understand, - a man can not understand, what we shall go through.” - </p> - <p> - “Let us have stout hearts for all that,” said I. “It behooveth us to be - bold, since no victory, even over weakness, was ever constructed of - timidity. Besides, the foe may offer us its defeat by its own errors. I - recall, how once upon a time, certain Creeks whom the General was to - attack entrenched themselves, and all about felled trees and sharpened the - branches into points, the whole as defensive as any bristle of bayonets. - You, as thought these red engineers, would have deemed the place - impregnable, for no one might force his way through this <i>chevaux - de-frise</i>. But the General's military eye unlocked the situation. The - sun-dried leaves and twigs were lying where they fell. An arrow, with - blazing tow tied to its shaft and shot from a safe two hundred yards away, - solved the problem. In a moment that precious defence was on fire; and the - enemy, driven forth by the heat and flame and smoke of it, were met in the - open and destroyed to a man. We may yet smoke these society savages into a - surrender by setting an honest torch to their surroundings. One thing we - can promise ourselves.” I remarked this in conclusion. “Whatever else may - fail, at the worst, you shall not go wanting a revenge.” - </p> - <p> - “And that thought is sweet, too,” said she in return. - </p> - <p> - Peg's leopard teeth were not without significance; that much I saw. After - all, her speech was to have been expected; for who will go further afield - for revenge than your flesh and blood true woman, still of earth's fires - and not ready for the skies? - </p> - <p> - Peg told me a portion of her story; partly because it was natural she - should think that I, who had been a stranger to her, might justly want - such knowledge; but mostly, I believe, for that she had an instinct to - defend herself against what I might have preconceived to her disaster. - Dear child, she had small cause to fret herself on that score! I remember - she gave herself no little blame as the self-willed gardener of those - thorny sorrows among which she had walked and was still sorrowfully to - find her path. She would run on like this, as I recall: - </p> - <p> - “The first fault belonged with this tavern of an Indian Queen. I could - have been no older than eight when I knew how folk who came here, - Congressmen and officers of state and their ladies, looked upon us who - kept the place as but servants over servants, and took care not to meet us - on an equal footing with themselves. My father and mother were disrated as - mere tavern-keepers who sold their entertainment to any and to all; and I, - so soon as I came to discretion and an ability to apprehend, found myself - included in the ban thus set upon my people. I've seen nurses skurry to - carry their charges off from childish games with me and the contamination - of my baby contact. Later, in girlhood, I've overheard mothers while they - warned their daughters to avoid me, and experienced the tilt-nosed airs of - those same daughters who with superior arts of insolence stung me like - wasps. More often than once, I've crept away to tears of shame because I - was the daughter of a tavern. - </p> - <p> - “But in the end it hardened me. I had a perverse, retaliatory temper. I - grew up beautiful, so folk told me; moreover, I knew it but too well by - the merest glance in a glass. With my beauty,”—Peg spoke of it in - mixed simplicity and sadness as though she recounted deformity—“I - was wont to fashion my revenge. My father—not a poor man, for while - taverns may be vulgar they maybe profitable—was ever ready to spend - money on me; and I had only to hint at a comb or a ribbon or a ring, to - find the gewgaw an hour after on my table. Good, poor man! my father, calm - and careless enough under his condition so far as it rested on himself, - felt for my humiliations, which now and again he could not fail to see, - and sought with trinketry and luxury of dress to repair the injury. - Neither he nor my mother spoke of what they both must have felt, that is - our nosocial condition, if one may so describe it; and for myself, I was - too proud, and too tenderly in love with them for their thousand - kindnesses, to bring it upon their notice. - </p> - <p> - “As I've said, I made my beauty the method of my revenge. I owned taste as - well as looks, and my wits were as deep and as quick and as bright as my - eyes. I've set many a wrinkle on many a fair brow by defeating it to - second place in that woman's rivalry of looks. - </p> - <p> - “For these wars, where loveliness tilts against loveliness, my allies were - the men. Compliment for me was never silent on their lips. I was the - town's toast as I grew up. This put the women to an opposite course. As - the men spoke of my beauty, the women shrugged their pure shoulders and - told of my boldness; and I must confess that in a native vivacity, - together with that rebellion of the spirit born of their attitude towards - me, I gave them endless evidence to go upon. I have lived my life without - an immorality or the shadow of one; I have done no wrong wherewith to - shame myself; but, reckless, careless, and with the frank ignorance of - innocence—and then, to be sure, because it made those others angry—I - was greedy of men's praise, withal too free of speech and eye, and thereby - offered tongues eager to assail me the argument required as material for - their ill work. They, the women, wove for me as bad a story as they might, - and then wrapped it about me for a reputation. How I loathed and hated - them! those who, worsted of my beauty, would tear me with calumny by way - of reprisal! - </p> - <p> - “Now I must tell you, it was I who wearied first of that game where it was - beauty on the one side against icy stare, arched brow, and covert innuendo - on the other. No; my tongue would not have spared them—it was never - a patient member, that tongue!—but for such artillery, as you would - call it, my persecutors were out of reach. There is a gravity of words; - they descend and never climb; they must, like a stone, come tumbling from - above to do an injury. Wherefore these folk high up were safe from me—safe - from everything except my beauty; and since I maintained myself without a - stain upon my virtue, even my beauty wore for them and theirs no real - peril. Above, on the cliffs of society, they rolled down tale and whisper - against me like so many black stones; in retort, though I might be - beautiful and so madden them with the possession of what they lacked, I - from below could harm them nothing. I think, too, some in pain of their - own ugliness, envied and would have changed places with me. They would - not, had they known what I knew and felt what I felt. My soul was in - torment, and I grew never so callous but the darts of their forked - malignancy would pierce and pain. - </p> - <p> - “It was to avoid conditions which grew at last intolerable—for I - brooded when alone and magnified the evils of my position, turning morbid - the while—that I wedded Mr. Timberlake. I never loved him; I took - him to be a refuge rather than a husband, and my little life with him was - not a happy one. By no fault of his, however; I think he loved me, and I - know he did his best. I had nothing from him save kindness, and when he - died in the Mediterranean I doubt not he carried into the other world a - sincere regard for me. - </p> - <p> - “And I would have loved him if I could.” Peg waved her hand with an accent - of despair, and as one who had striven and failed beyond recall. “But I - could not—could not; strive as I might, love would not come. I felt - guilt to live with him; I was glad when he sailed away; and, God help me! - my sighs over his death were the sighs of one released from bonds.” - </p> - <p> - Peg broke and cried like any child. You should understand, however, that - she was unjust to herself. What she said of her brooding aforetime to the - frontier of the morbid was over-true. And, supersensitive, proud, her hope - had wasted as her gloom grew; her griefs of girlhood, enlarged many fold - doubtless, as she herself suspected, by stress of her own fancy sorrowing - with a wound, had left solemn stamp upon her; and this took far too often - and unjustly the shape of self-blame. Beneath all, and hidden deep within - her breast, Peg carried small opinion of herself; thought herself selfish, - hard, shallow, and of no rich depth of heart. She was wrong to the core; - for her inner self was as beautiful as her face. And yet, despite - knowledge on her own part, and her friends' assurances, in the ultimate - recesses of her thoughts there existed a torture-chamber; and therein she - ever racked herself as the one wrongdoer in what she had passed through. - There was no driving her from this; she was merciless against herself; and - while none not the closest might know, for in the presence of non-friends - and strangers she showed the iron fortitude of an Indian or a soldier, to - myself and those with whom she practiced no reserve these - self-flagellations were much too painfully plain. - </p> - <p> - I say, folk near to Peg were aware of this morbid lack of soul-vanity and - good regard for herself. There should be one exception counted, and that, - curious to tell, her own husband. Peg, for all he might be double her age, - and I think no very handsome man at that, I could see, when I talked with - her, loved Eaton as she loved her eyes or mothers love their children. And - yet, never to him did she show her true feeling; in his presence she was - the brave, gay, bright, strong, brilliant Peg, asking in the fight which - followed no quarter and granting none, she seemed to the common world. It - is curious, and presents a problem too involved for my solution, that Peg - should have guarded against the one she most loved and shut the door upon - discovery by him of her own wondrous self. Yet so it was; it stood patent - to me from the beginning that Eaton knew no more of Peg than of her whom - he never met. - </p> - <p> - In her morbid estimates of her worth it is possible she feared to grant - him too clear a view. She may have thought she would lose by it. The - reason, however, for this great secrecy coupled with great love—this - hiding from him for whom she would have died—I shall leave to be - searched for by those scientists of souls who are pleased to explain the - inexplicable. For myself, I confess I was baffled by it. - </p> - <p> - This, however, I will say; the fact that Peg could so practice upon Eaton - to his blindness gave me no high opinion of that gentleman. He should have - groped for her and grasped her, and found her out for the loving, loyal, - sorrowing heart she was; and that he did not, but went in placid darkness - of the treasure he held in his hands, content to have it so, marked him - for a lack of insight and want of sympathy which I'm bound to say do not - distinguish me. Such stolidity on the part of folk has caused me more - often than once to consider whether the angels, by mere possession, may - not at last find even heaven commonplace. - </p> - <p> - Still, it is none the less infuriating to witness so much beauty so much - thrown away! Indubitably, the economy of existence asks for pigs as loudly - as it asks for pearls, and to blame Eaton for failing in appreciation of - Peg is as apart from equity as would be the flogging of a horse who sees - no beauty in a moss-rose—and less, perhaps—not present in a - musty lock of hay. However, it is none the less infuriating for that. - </p> - <p> - Mark you though, I would be guilty of no wrong to Eaton, nor establish him - on too low a level in your esteem. He was in the Senate from Tennessee at - the time, and of solid repute among his fellows. He was a brave, dull, - good-humored sort, who thought better, perhaps, of a bottle than of a book—not - to excess, you are to notice—and as a statesman, if he put out no - fires, he kindled none; though he did no good, at worst he did no harm; - and that, let me tell you, is a record somewhat better than the average. I - have been attacked and charged with a distaste of Eaton. There are two - words to go with that, and no one—and I challenge those who knew us - both—can put his finger on any ill of word or deed or thought I ever - aimed against him. Truly, I hunted not his company with horn and horse and - hound; but what then? I take it, I'm as free to pick and choose for my - intimates as any other. And I still declare what was in my thoughts in - those hours I tell of, that Eaton, sluggish and something of a clod-head, - and with a blurred, gray tone of fancy, was unworthy such a woman, whose - love for him, be it said, was when I met her as boundless as the - difficulty of accounting for its first existence. I say again, and the - last time, I hold no dislike for Eaton, and more than once have done him - good favors in days gone. That I shall grant him no extensive mention in - these pages means no more than that he was but a supernumerary in the - drama where of the General and Peg carried the great parts. Eaton came on - and off; but his lines were few and brief and burned with no interest. - There is little reason for prodigious clamor over Eaton, and little there - will be. But I am not to be accused of unfairness to the man for that he - dwelt with an angel and was too thick to find it out. - </p> - <p> - Peg at last recalled herself from the dead Timberlake. She brushed away - her tears. - </p> - <p> - “These are all of them you are to see,” laughed Peg, stoutly, referring to - her tears. “I promise to shed no more. However, you may quiet alarm; a - woman's tears are no such mighty matter.” I showed perturbation, I - suppose, and she would dissipate it. - </p> - <p> - Peg told me of her wedding with Eaton. She dwelt a deal on her love for - him; but since one consents to it as a sentiment, even though its cause - defy one's search, there comes no call to extend the details in this - place. - </p> - <p> - It stood open to my eyes, however, as Peg talked, how no man was more - loved than Eaton. And when I looked upon the ardent girl and considered, - withal, the dull stolidity of the other, there would rise up pictures from - my roving past to be as allegories of Peg's love. I would recall how once - I saw a vine, blossom-flecked and beautiful, flinging its green tenderness - across a hard insensate wall; and that was like Peg's love. Or it would - come before me how I had known a mountain, sterile, seamed, unlovely, - where it heaved itself against the heavens, a repellant harsh shoulder of - stone. The June day, fresh and new and beautiful, would blush in the east, - and her first kiss was for that cold gray, rude, old rock. That day at - noon in her warm ripeness would rest upon it. Her latest glance, as our - day died in the west, was for it; and when the valley and all about were - dark, her last rays crowned it. And the vivid day, with her love for that - unregardful mountain, the rich day wasting herself on the desert peak that - would neither respond nor understand, was as the marvel of Peg's love. - </p> - <p> - It is all the mystery that never ends; woman in her love-reasons is not to - be fathomed nor made plain. The cry of her soul is to love rather than to - be loved; her happiness lives in what she gives, not what she gets. This - turns for the good fortunes of men; also, it offers the frequent spectacle - of a woman squandering herself—for squandering it is—on one so - unworthy that only the sorrow of it may serve to smother the laughter that - else might be evoked. However, I am not one to discuss these things, being - no analyst, but only a creature of bluff wits, too clumsy for theories as - subtle, not to say as brittle, as spun glass. Wherefore, let us put aside - Peg's love and break off prosing. The more, since I may otherwise give - some value to a jest of the General's—made on that same day—who - would have it I was at first sight half in love with Peg myself. This was - the General's conception of humor ard owned no other currency—I, - being twice Peg's age, and in the middle forties, and not a trifle - battered of feature by my years in the field. I was old enough to be Peg's - father;—but when it comes to that, Eaton was quite as old. - </p> - <p> - It was time to seek the General, I said. Peg and I had arrived at a frank - acquaintance, and we went together to the General's room in good opinion - of ourselves, she the better by a new staunch friend, and I prosperous - with thoughts for her of a coming elevation consistent with her graces of - mind and person, and which should atone as much as might be for what she - had suffered heretofore. We decided that Peg should wear a gay look, and - harrow the General with no tears. - </p> - <p> - As we went along I was given to quite a novel enthusiasm, I recollect; and - it was the more strange since, while no pessimist, I never had found - celebration as one whose hope was wont to wander with the stars. I could - see the white days ahead for Peg; and albeit I fear their glory shone not - to her apprehension as it did to mine, and while they came slowly as days - shod with lead, dawn they did, as he shall witness who goes with this - history to the end. - </p> - <p> - My servant Jim was sent with a message to the General to give him the word - of Peg's coming. During our talk in the parlor, Jim, be it said, was never - far to call. Obviously, Jim proposed for me no dangers of bright eyes so - far as remained with him to be my shield. He dodged in and out of the - room, now with this pretext and now with that, and when I bade him repair - to the General to say that Peg and I would visit him, the gray old rogue - was fair irresolute, and hung in the wind as though he had but to turn his - back on us and bring down every evil. I drove him forth at last, and when - Peg and I would tap on the General's door our black courier was just - coming away. - </p> - <p> - While the General was greeting Peg—rather effusively for him, so I - thought—Jim, detaining me at the door, took the liberty of a private - word. - </p> - <p> - “Now you-all is yere, Marse Major,” observed Jim, and his manner was of - complaint and weariness, “an' where Marse Gen'ral kin keep a eye on you, I - feels free an' safe to go projectin' 'round about my own consarns. I was - boun' I wouldn't leave you alone, Marse Major, in d' parlors; I shore - tells you it makes Jim draw long brefs an' puts him to fear an' tremblin' - lest every minute's gwine to be his nex', while any woman as han'some as - dish yere Missis Eaton is pesterin' nigh. You-all can't tell what dey'll - do, or what you'll do! Which Jim has knowed Love to up an' prounce on a - man like a mink on a settin' hen; an' him jes' merely lookin' at one of - them sirens, as d' good book calls'em. That's d' shore enough fac', Marse - Major; an' you-all oughter be mighty keerful an' keep Jim hoverin' about - d' lan'scape at all sech meetin's. It's a heap safer, that a-way; you hyar - Jim!” At this point of warning Jim stopped like a clock that has run down. - </p> - <p> - “You asked me if you might have one drink from the demijohn in my closet,” - I said. “Yassir, Marse Major, I does.” - </p> - <p> - “You took four, you scoundrel; you took at least four, as I can tell by - the mill-wheel clatter of your tongue.” - </p> - <p> - “On'y three, Marse Major; on'y three. An' you don't want to disrecollect - Marse Major, pore old Jim's got a heap on his mind to make him thirsty.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall not disrecollect, as you call it, to lock my closet door. I don't - propose, sir, to furnish you forty-year-old whisky to become the - inspiration of such crazy harangues as I've just listened to.” - </p> - <p> - My voice was stern, and the awful threat of locking the closet door took - vastly the heart out of Jim. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Marse Major,” he began apologetically, “Jim warn't aimin' to say - nothin' to cumfusticate you; Jim was talkin' for your good. I wouldn't go - for to lock up that closet, Marse Major; how's Jim gwine to get your - clothes to bresh? Besides, Jim's done said his say, an' arter this he'll - nacherally go about as cat-foot an' as wary an' as quiet as a coon at - noon, that's what Jim will. You has heard d' las' word from Jim, Marse - Major; d' very las' word. On'y don't go for to lock that closet door; if - you does, most likely we'll lose d' key an' it's gwine to get in our way.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, sir, we shall see,” I replied, severely. “One thing is certain; I'm - not to have my servant, at the age of seventy, make a drunken show of - himself. I'll send you back to Tennessee, first.” - </p> - <p> - Jim departed, sensibly subdued. - </p> - <p> - With Peg and the General I found Eaton, who arrived while I was receiving - my lecture from the sapient Jim. We greeted each other with warmth, and I - could see that Peg felt this warmth and took a glow from it. Dear girl! he - was her all; she had friendship for those who were his friends, love for - those who loved him; and, twisting a commandment, Peg would do unto others - as they did unto him. - </p> - <p> - Eaton was a blond, ruddy man. As we released each other's hands, he said: - </p> - <p> - “I'm here to offer my thanks to the General. I was speaking of this - cabinet matter to my colleague, White. He is greatly pleased. By the way, - General,”—here Eaton wheeled on the General—“my senate seat - will want an occupant. Why not prevail on our friend, the Major, to take - it?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no!” responded the General, quickly and with a gay energy; “that - would never match my plans. The Major, or I much mistake, must go with me - to the White House. I could not carry on my administration unless I found - him quarreling at my elbow whenever I turned my head.” - </p> - <p> - “And if 'carry on' be the name of it, who is to carry on my farms?” I - asked. - </p> - <p> - This I put seriously; it stood much to the left hand of any programme of - mine, this making one of the General's White House family. - </p> - <p> - “Who will carry on your farms?” repeated the General. “Why, then, who is - to carry on mine? Do you mean that you, who have put me here, are about to - desert me? Nonsense, man; there is no room in your body, big as it is, for - so gross a treason. If I stay, you stay; and that's nailed down.” - </p> - <p> - “And surely you wouldn't abandon me?” said Peg, bringing her pretty face - something near to my shoulder. Then, low and pleading: “Me; with trouble - frowning?” - </p> - <p> - Who was there to stand up against both Peg and the General? I made no - breathless battle of it, you may guess. - </p> - <p> - “Major, I've been telling this child,” said the General, laying his thin - hand on Peg's curly mop of hair, “how at our receptions she'll light up - that great East Room with the bright face of her. We shall require all the - beauty we can muster, since the administration is like to go limping in - the business of looks. Van Buren and Barry are wifeless; and I'm told Mrs. - Ingham is forbiddingly hideous, with the voice of a henhawk. You see, my - child,” turning to Peg, “we build on you to save our day from the sin of - ugliness.” - </p> - <p> - Peg's eyes danced, and she seemed to bask in prospects naught save - sunshine. She was far from that broken one of sobs and sorrows whose hand - I held a short half hour before. A great woman is ever a great actress; - Peg was proving it now; for with a face all light, her heart was a heart - of shadows, and heavy with the forebode of dark days coming down. What a - paradox is woman! Here was Peg, brave at once, and fearful—afraid - for her husband, while quick with courage for him, finding her peril where - she found her strength. - </p> - <p> - “We are living,” remarked Eaton, as he tucked Peg under his arm - preparatory to their departure, “we are living on the Georgetown side of - the President's Square. General, we won't, while you are in the White - House, have a far journey when we visit you. Major, you must call on us.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, you must!” echoed Peg. - </p> - <p> - As the two took their leave, and the General, having bowed the little lady - to the door, sought his never-failing pipe, Jim reappeared, and with a - caution that bordered upon mystery put a penciled note in my hand. It - read: - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Noah presents his compliments to the Major; and will the Major do Mr. - Noah the honor to meet him immediately in the card room? It is considered - advisable by Mr. Noah to say nothing to the General concerning this - message.” - </p> - <p> - The note went into my pocket, the General, luckily involved with his pipe, - which for some stubbornness concealed within the stem refused to draw, - failing to notice. This was as should be, for the General was as - inquisitive and prompt with query as a girl. Even now he asked where I was - bound. - </p> - <p> - “I've had nothing to eat as yet,” I returned. - </p> - <p> - “That's true; I had forgotten. Come back when you are finished; there's a - deal to talk about. I shall need you to help me make up my mind.” - </p> - <p> - “Help you unmake it, you mean,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - There was an exchange of grins. I had exactly stated the case; and, as a - grave truth will on occasion, it struck our sense of the ridiculous. It - had been my work for years; it would be my work for the eight years yet to - come; this unmaking of the General's mind. - </p> - <p> - On my way to the card room I asked Jim, - </p> - <p> - Peggy - </p> - <p> - O'Neal who was close behind, where he got the message. - </p> - <p> - “Marse Major, Jim done obtains it from that red-head Jew gentleman I sees - romancin' 'round yere this mornin'. An' say, Marse Major; don't you-all - reckon Jim better skuffle for your room an' fotch your box of pistols?” - </p> - <p> - “Pistols!” I exclaimed, stopping short; “what in the name of General - Jackson do I. want of pistols?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, nothin', Marse Major, jest nothin',” said Jim, shifting uneasily on - his feet. “It's simply one of them old-time Cumberland idees of Jim's. D' - fac' is, Marse Major, Jim sort o' allows from d' signs how dish yere - red-head Jew gentleman's gwine to have a fight.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV—THE JEW AND HIS SPANISH SWORD - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>im's surmise of - trouble on the brew set fire to my feet. At the door of the card room I - met Duff Green coming out—Duff of the Oporto nose. I barely nodded; - I could taste of insincerity and a suave false slyness on the man as one - smells secret fire in a house. - </p> - <p> - As I pushed into the card room, while it was well filled of folk, my first - glance revealed nothing to justify Jim's fears. There was Noah, truly; and - sitting with him that Kentucky Yankee, the anxious Amos Kendall. Isaac - Hill, gray and thin, and limping with his club-foot, was also about. These - were the General's friends; there was naught to anticipate of a - misunderstanding with Noah from them. - </p> - <p> - And for all that, Jim was right; calm as showed the surface, there ran an - undertow of conversation which flowed for storm. Jim, who lived long among - fighting men on fighting ground, had attained perhaps some sharpened sense - for the sign or sound of approaching strife, and could foretell it while - yet a mile away, Kendall was by Noah's side, and Hill had paused at his - elbow; yet it was with neither of these he was engaged. Against the corner - of a mantelpiece, and two paces from Noah, leaned a young man of dissolute - look. His name, I learned, was Catron, and he came from Port Tobacco, a - small hamlet in the southern toe of Maryland. Evidently, Catron was of an - upper class in his country, as his dress, and fine hands, smallish and - unmarred of toil, would give a signal. He had been drinking, but seemed - more vicious than drunk. - </p> - <p> - Catron was doing the talking, and with a manner of itself an insult seemed - bent for altercation. - </p> - <p> - “Don't cross the run of things,” warned Noah, in a whisper, as I marked my - advent by dropping a hand upon his shoulder; “I am glad you are come; but - don't interfere. Affairs go famously.” - </p> - <p> - Willing to gain some insight of the trend of traffic, I paused behind - Noah's chair. - </p> - <p> - “That I should cross words,” Catron was saying, “with a Jackson Jew does - not tell in favor of my respectability. It is what one must look for, - however, when the beggars of politics are promoted to the saddle.” - </p> - <p> - “Your epithet of 'Jackson Jew,'” responded Noah, quietly, “I take for - myself, and am much flattered thereby. And you are also to remember there - are weapons other than words which one may cross with me whenever one's - valor arouses to that pitch. Jew, yes! my ancestors were poets, lawgivers—they - read the stars, and collected the wisdom and the learning of the world, - when the slant-skulled fore-fathers of upstairs I might indicate went - clothed of sheepskin and club, ate their meat raw, and saved their fire to - pray to.” - </p> - <p> - All this flowed from Noah in tones modulate and sweet. I began to wonder - at my fair-haired friend; not unskilled in colloquy of this sort, it beat - upon me that Noah, himself, was wanting an encounter. - </p> - <p> - “If I were to own my way,” said Catron, paying no heed to Noah's - intimation of a stone-age savagery as the state of his forebears. “If I - might have my way, I'd exclude every shoe-lace Jew from the country.” - </p> - <p> - “Doubtless; if you were to have but your own way,” purred Noah. “And yet, - observe the injustice you propose. The Jew is as much the American as you. - My father fought for this country; I have fought for it; the Jews found - and gave one-third of that money which won the Revolution. The Jews wasted - their treasure and their blood like water for independence, while folk one - wots of were filling the roles of Royalists and upholding the hands of the - King.” - </p> - <p> - There now fell out a deal of talk to little purpose, I thought, and I was - on the tip of telling Noah so, when someone from over my shoulder flung a - remark. - </p> - <p> - “You are he,” said this man—his name was Witherspoon, and he a Clay - Kentuckian—“you are he,” addressing Noah, “who had this country - stricken from the muster of Christian nations. You caused the Bey of Tunis - to make the decision.” - </p> - <p> - “I but caused the Bey to expound our constitution,” said Noah, looking - carelessly back at Witherspoon. - </p> - <p> - While I was turning these last remarks in my mind, and gnawing the enigma - they offered, Catron broke forth with a cataract of malediction upon the - General, and Noah and any and all who stood the former's supporters. It - was a flood of abuse that told strongly for the ruffian's muddy powers. - </p> - <p> - “And now this precious Jackson of yours,”—these were Catron's - closing words—“this murderer! this thief of other men's wives! would - insult the decency of our capitol with a courtesan in his cabinet.” - </p> - <p> - “Meaning whom?” asked Noah, half rising. - </p> - <p> - Noah's words had the fiber of triumph; he put his question as might he who - had trapped that result which he went seeking from the start. - </p> - <p> - “Who?” retorted the other; “who, save that Peg O'Neal who was as common as - the streets she walked.” - </p> - <p> - “You lie; you rogue and dog of Henry Clay, you lie!” - </p> - <p> - Noah fair spat out the words; it was as though they came freighted with - the venom of the viper. - </p> - <p> - Catron growled an oath and leaped towards Noah. He was met flush in the - face with a glass of whiskey which Noah in most casual fashion had just - poured. I had foreseen Noah's purpose; I'd heard him say he drank no - spirits. - </p> - <p> - For the moment Catron was stopped, the bite and anguish of the alcohol in - his eyes making him as a blind man. As Noah threw the liquor, I seized him - by the wrist; so far it had been gentleman's work; I did not want him to - spoil his position by throwing the glass. - </p> - <p> - “Don't grip so hard,” warned Noah, making not the least of struggle; - “don't grip so hard. I shall anon need this hand for what is in store; - that grasp like a hand-vise will weaken it for a sword, or shake it for a - pistol.” - </p> - <p> - Never was I more played upon and pleased than by the coolness of Noah, who - showed as steady, not to say indifferent, as he who acts a part in a - theater. - </p> - <p> - “I shall have your life for this!” screamed Catron, who, in the hands of - friends and still blind of the whiskey, was carried to another room. - </p> - <p> - When something like peace fell, I asked Noah to explain. I would - understand this violence; the more since it looked to be half-plan on - Noah's part. Kendall and Hill were with us and made four for our - conversation. - </p> - <p> - “What is the riddle, then?” I said. “I got your note; what was it you - desired?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing, save your presence,” he replied. “As you observe, I was - provoking a fight—not a most amiable attitude, I confess. But you - will hear my reasons. Since I saw you, I have found how there exists a - clique of bloods—they are of both the Clay and Calhoun parties—who - go about grossly assailing Mrs. Eaton. There is concert in their villainy; - and they relax themselves at intervals with threats of violence against - any who shall take Mrs. Eaton's part. A duel—a prompt, sharp duel, - with a wound or two—is the best, in truth! the only way to stifle - them. There is nothing like steel or lead to teach such gentry mildness - and a Christian spirit.” - </p> - <p> - Noah laughed over the adjective. - </p> - <p> - “And have you put yourself forward,” I demanded, “as that master who is to - give these lessons of lead and steel?” - </p> - <p> - “What could be better?” returned Noah. “I am cold and steady, and not apt - for error. Again, I am of no such overt and particular emphasis in the - General's designs as to link his name too much with this ruffle. Since it - is to be, I think I am excellently the hand for the work; and I hold it - fortunate I am here when I so dovetail with events.” - </p> - <p> - “And what is to come?” said I. - </p> - <p> - “Indubitably, a challenge,” broke in Kendall. “The Maryland Catrons are of - touchwood stock. They duel for their pleasure.” Then with an inflection of - warning. “This Catron will ask for swords!” - </p> - <p> - “Swords should do exceeding well,” remarked Noah. “It should go through - sharply, this affair, for the best moral effect on others of his - ill-tongued clan. With swords we might fight in a room, since they make no - noise. Let us meet at once. In an hour this Catron's eyes will cease to - burn, and he'll see the better for it.” - </p> - <p> - “But, mind you, Catron is a master of the sword,” said Kendall. “He had - the best teachers in Florence.” - </p> - <p> - “Should he show you my blood,” returned Noah, coldly, “I will avouch him - the best fencer of America.” - </p> - <p> - There would be a duel, so much I could tell. And yet the situation put me - to deepest thought. I was sorry for Peg's name in it, too; that would mean - no end of talk. - </p> - <p> - “There is no end of talk as it stands,” argued Noah. “It were best to make - Mrs. Eaton's fame the issue. I could have forced a quarrel on his insults - for that I was a Jew. But I hold it better as it is. Mrs. Eaton was the - one question worth duelling with such a bully about; but for the duel to - be of suppressive virtue, it is required to have the <i>casus belli</i> - surely shown.” - </p> - <p> - Noah was profoundly right in these arguments; the next day's sequel of - silence on the cautious parts of our anti-Eaton swashbucklers remarked as - much. - </p> - <p> - “You speak of this Catron as a bully,” commented Hill. “I know nothing of - your code, for it does not obtain in New Hampshire. But is a gentleman - bound to take notice of the vaporings of a bully—a mere blackguard?” - </p> - <p> - “One may be a bully,” returned the steady Noah, “and none the less - patrician for that. Indeed, your prince oft takes his purple blood for - license. Who was Alcibiades but a bully-boy of Athens? Who have been the - bullies of London town, with their Mohocks and Hell Fire Clubs, but the - nobility and royal princes? No, believe me, sir;” and Noah's lip twitched - sarcastically, “the bully's blood is sometimes blue.” - </p> - <p> - It was settled that I should second the interests of Noah. At a first - blink, this arrangement might have the look of the General's fat in the - fire, since we professed anxiety to keep his name clear of the muddle. But - there are two ends to a lane; our purpose was attained when the General's - want of personal knowledge found demonstration. That plain, it was next - good to have it understood how the Jackson interest was at the Noah - shoulder. These reasons, and because I owned experience of such - arbitraments—for I had lived where pistols, barking at ten paces, - were rife enough—taught Noah his preference for me over Kendall and - Hill, who had seen fewer of these bickers, the latter none at all. - </p> - <p> - “They will be the challenging party,” I observed to Noah; “that gives us - the choice of arms.” - </p> - <p> - “Should Kendall be right,” said Noah, “as to the Florentine studies of our - friend, he will prefer swords. Suppose you concede swords on condition he - fight at once.” - </p> - <p> - Even while we conferred, there came Pigeon-breast, my friend of the - clanking saber and gold heels, to wait upon us. The sight of me as sponsor - for Noah caused Pigeon-breast a dubious start; possibly he feared lest the - General resent his presence as the avowed ally of the enemy. Indeed poor - Pigeon-breast expressed his thought. - </p> - <p> - “It is to be hoped,” faltered Pigeon-breast, in his high-pitched tenor, - “you will represent me, sir, in certain quarters you know of, as acting - solely for the honor of my friend. My personal position as to the subject - matter of the quarrel must not be deduced from that.” - </p> - <p> - I maintained myself with gravity, as folk about a litigation of honor - should; also, I set Pigeon-breast easy on risks and perils for himself. In - the matter of weapons Pigeon-breast fair fell upon my neck. - </p> - <p> - “It is for you to name weapons,” quoth Pigeon-breast. Then, with - hesitation: “If it meet your view, however, we for our side would welcome - swords.” - </p> - <p> - “And that is a highly improper remark, permit me to say.” My attitude was - purposely severe. It would throw Pigeon-breast into confusion. “Since the - choice is with us, it is neither graceful nor safe for you to try to lead - it.” - </p> - <p> - “Surely,” protested Pigeon-breast, “I meant no unfairness, no offence. But - with swords, sir, this might come quietly off in town. Should you say - pistols, it will mean Bladensburg; and the mud is girth deep.” - </p> - <p> - At the word “mud,” poor Pigeon-breast gazed upon his varnished boots and - bandbox regimentals with round eyes of apprehension. I took advantage of - Pigeon-breast's solicitude and feminine terror of Bladensburg mire to say - that if we might have our men up at once, it would tell strongly in favor - of swords. Of course, my haste was to have the thing finished before some - waifword of it reached the General's ear. - </p> - <p> - “Why, I believe an hour from now,” said Pigeon-breast, hopefully, “might - suit us extremely well. That would make it sharp noon. Shall we say noon?” - </p> - <p> - “And the ball room at Gadsby's?” I returned. Having considered, I deemed - it best to be out of the Indian Queen with this clash. - </p> - <p> - Gadsby's was to the taste of Pigeon-breast; it would serve admirably. - Also, Pigeon-breast would bring a brace of rapiers. - </p> - <p> - Thus was it adjusted between the militant Pigeon-breast and myself. - Pigeon-breast withdrew, giving me a most sweeping bow; but carefully - keeping his hand to himself, by which I saw that he was not unversed in - the etiquette of the field. - </p> - <p> - Returning to Noah, I laid before him our arrangements; incidentally, I - would get a morsel of food, since I had had none that morning, and my - stomach was much inclined to take this neglect in dudgeon. - </p> - <p> - Having a private parlor to ourselves, for Kendall and Hill would lunch - with me, I sent for what we craved and urged dispatch. The repast was - brought, and while we did it honor with knife and fork, Noah sipped a - thimbleful of sherry, saying he accepted it to quicken the eye and give - vigor and pliancy to the wrist. - </p> - <p> - As we lunched, Noah called for a messenger. - </p> - <p> - “Find Mr. Rivera,” said Noah; “bring him to me here.” - </p> - <p> - There was a question on my tongue; it covered the charge tossed over my - shoulder by the man, Witherspoon, that Noah had fixed the country's status - as a nation of heathen among the powers of the earth. - </p> - <p> - “The statement is true,” said Noah; “the story is brief. It was during the - last war, and while I represented the country in Tunis. A Yankee - privateer, little but valiant, came into port towing a hulking English - merchantman, whereof, cutlass in hand, he had made prize. The Yankee would - have the merchantman condemned in the courts of Tunis, and sold. The - British minister objected; he recalled the Bey, before whom we both - appeared, to his treaty made with England. One clause precluded the use of - Tunis as a port of condemnation for English ships made prize in wars - between England and any other 'Christian nation.' The phrase was - 'Christian nation.' There was no going about the treaty; it stood in ink - and sheepskin. Whereupon I read the learned Bey—himself a darkened - pagan—our constitution. I showed him we were not a 'Christian - nation,' but admitted every creed or sect or sept or faith of men, Gentile - or Jew or Musselman, and all on common terms. It was impossible we should - be a 'Christian nation;' the treaty with England did not in this instance - tie his hands. The Bey held with me; America was not a 'Christian nation;' - the prize was condemned and sold. The Bey would receive one-fifth of the - proceeds of that sale; which may or may not have aided his wisdom to the - decision I've described. Still, it was a decision; and since it never has - been quarreled with or overturned, a heathen country we remain to this day - in the eye of international law.” - </p> - <p> - As Noah ended his scrap of history, a tall young man, square and heavy of - shoulders, and with every movement of his body as smoothly sure and - sinuous as the movements of a cat, appeared. He was that Rivera for whom - Noah had sent. - </p> - <p> - “Go to my rooms and bring me a pair of swords,” said Noah. - </p> - <p> - “The smallswords?” asked Rivera, with just a thought of interest. - </p> - <p> - “No; the Spanish swords.” - </p> - <p> - “Who is your armorer?” I asked of Noah when Rivera was gone. - </p> - <p> - This boy I had come across before. He had drawn himself upon my attention - by the panther grace and strength told of in his motions. Large, long of - limb, and heavy, there was yet a brisk lightness with him to hold one like - a spell. - </p> - <p> - “His name,” responded Noah, “is Rivera—Michael Rivera—and his - blood flows a fantastic, almost a formidable mixture. His mother was a - maid of my mother; an Irish lass she was, and came out of Tipperary. The - father, on the far other hand, was a Spanish Jew; by trade a bull-fighter, - the foremost toreador of Seville, where, when my family was visiting in - Spain, the impressionable Tipperary maiden lost her heart to him as he - flourished bloodily about the arena. They were married by the padre, for - Rivera senior, while pure Jew, was none the less pure Catholic; under - Spanish law he could have had no place among the bull-fighters else, since - in Spain it is not permitted to be cruel unless one first be Christian. My - protege, who goes for the swords, is the fruit of that union; now, his - parents being dead, and because he was born among my people, he abides - with me. He has a drowsy, honest soul—though hot enough when moved—and - he loves me. He would accept death for me like a dog.” - </p> - <p> - “And what is his part with you?” asked Kendall. The tale of Rivera - interested us. - </p> - <p> - “No part,” responded Noah, “more than to go where I go, and come where I - come; to fetch and to carry and to do my word. He is well taught of books; - but owns ideas not at all, for he has no width nor current of conjecture. - Yet you are not to believe him a fool. He is silent, but blithe to obey, - and true as blade to hilt. I keep him for he would have otherwise no - support. If I turned him on the world, he could not make a dollar—nor - guard it if he should. In that fiscal particular, the Jew in him has - balked and broken down.” Noah laughed lightly. “The faithful Rivera,” he - went on, “has, however, certain advantages. There is a compensation, an - equilibrium, in nature. Rivera, slow of brain, possesses the muscle-power - of a Hercules; moreover, in those twin arts of boxing and wrestling, it's - to be doubted if his over-lord exists. Some day, in some moment of - brutality—being now and again overtaken of such—I shall have - Rivera to England to beat Bendigo and Ward. The prize-ring is his one - opening for eminence. And I—as does the immortal Byron, who has more - pride of fisticuffs than verse—applaud the ring.” - </p> - <p> - While Noah talked, I was yielding him my meed of tacit admiration. Here - was a man, a creature of quills and ink, too, within minutes of meeting, - edge to edge, with one keen of his weapon, and a declared adept among - sword fighters. And clearly, the business was no more upon his spirit than - if the day bore no grim promise, but only smiles. It was more than - courage, it was the absolute absence of fear; he leaned back with his - sherry, and the little story of his young Spanish Irish-Jew, as though - hate were not at that same moment of time whetting a rapier with hope - against his life. His foreclaim of being cold and steady was not a boast - which wanted feet to stand upon. - </p> - <p> - Rivera came back, bearing the swords wrapped from casual eye in the folds - of a cloak. I drew one—a plain rapier or Spanish sword—and of - as superb temper as any to come from its birth-forge of Toledo. - </p> - <p> - “They are brothers, those swords,” said Noah; “there is none better. I had - them from the hands of that Bey who branded us as heathen, and so fretted - the friend of Henry Clay. And since, in a pastime such as we go about, a - fullest confidence in one's weapon is important, you will prefer these for - me if the choice be given you.” This was spoken to me. - </p> - <p> - Rivera knelt down, and taking off his patron's shoes, replaced them with - light fencing slippers, whereof the soles crackled with a fresh coat of - resin. Then came loose overshoes, meant to protect the others on the road - to Gads-by's from intervening mud. Having done this, and saying not a word - whether of question or remark, the boy stood back as waiting the next - command. I was ever reckoned a judge of anything on two legs or four, as - became the best quartermaster the General ever had, and I've yet to - glimpse so perfect—so splendidly, so accurately perfect—an - example of the physical man as showed in this youth, with his brown hair, - brown eyes, dark skin, and round thick neck like the carved column of some - sculptor. - </p> - <p> - It was time to be off for Gadsby's, no mighty journey, being just across - the street. As we were about departing, Noah called to Rivera, who - exhibited no more distrust of a finale than was present with the other, - and observed: “I shall be hungry on my return. Have a fowl and a flask of - wine set out for me in my own rooms.” - </p> - <p> - Rivera bowed as one who understands; and giving me the cloak to be still a - refuge for the Toledoes, watched us, as by a side door we got onto the - walk and headed for Gadsby's over the way. - </p> - <p> - There were the four of us, Noah, Kendall, Hill, and myself, when we came - into that great room of Gadsby's which was reserved for routs and dancing. - It was a large and lofty room with a gallery all about. We had the place - to ourselves for the moment; Pigeon-breast and his principal were yet to - arrive upon the scene. - </p> - <p> - Noah kicked off the overshoes, and stepped and scrubbed his feet against - the flooring boards. The experiment ended to his taste. - </p> - <p> - “The resin holds,” he remarked. Then glancing about the vast apartment, he - came back to me with a smile: “It's like fighting in a 10-acre field,” - said he. - </p> - <p> - Pigeon-breast appeared by a far door. Besides his bully principal, there - were two others, for I had named the propriety of witnesses and suggested - the number. I crossed over and greeted Pigeon-breast, and then led him - aside. - </p> - <p> - “Is either of the gentlemen with you,” said I, “a surgeon?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, no,” returned Pigeon-breast, “the thing clean slipped my mind.” - </p> - <p> - “It might be well to send, then,” I said, “for I think he will be wanted.” - </p> - <p> - Pigeon-breast spoke to the others, who, with Catron between them, had - continued near the door. Pigeon-breast, after a word, returned to me. - </p> - <p> - “There is a surgeon below,” he reported; “he will be with us like winking, - for he loves this kind of thing.” - </p> - <p> - “And now the swords,” I said. “We may as well transact preliminaries as - far as we can go while waiting.” - </p> - <p> - Pigeon-breast suggested we spin a coin, their weapons or ours. It fell for - ours; a good omen, I thought, albeit a look at Noah, where he gazed - carelessly from a window, face immovable as granite, gave encouragement - enough to declare war for a crown. I went over to tell him we had won the - use of our Toledoes. - </p> - <p> - “That sounds well,” he said. “I like good tools, especially when the work - demanded leans upon the fine.” - </p> - <p> - “You will not slay the man?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “For the one matter of his life,” returned Noah, “he's as safe as though - this dancing room were a church. Beyond that, however, I shall take such - measures with him that, for months, who sees him shall know what reward is - waiting on cowards who vilify a pure girl.” - </p> - <p> - Pigeon-breast signaled for a word. Taking me to a remote corner, he argued - that our duties required we discuss the possibility of apology. - </p> - <p> - “They must fight a little first,” I retorted. “There is no room between - epithets such as 'rogue' and 'liar' to squeeze in an explanation. These - folk must fight while both can hold out swords.” - </p> - <p> - This was not butcher's taste; but I began to see with Noah, that the - mouths against us must be silenced,—at least the men. We would begin - with Catron; we would duel our way through the social register, if need - beckoned, to purchase that justice of silence for our Peg. - </p> - <p> - Poor Peg! she was not to lie helpless in every cur's mouth, to be torn at - as most pleased his cruelty or best fattened his interest. The more the - situation ran before me, the more my breast took fire; I sustained a - strict face, however, engaged as I was upon the parade ground of honor and - in the service of a gentleman. Still, I said enough, and said it in such - fashion that Pigeon-breast, now a little nervous when the actual steel was - about to be drawn, saw nothing for it but to bring forward his fellow. - This, I admit, he managed in a genteel way; nor did Catron either whiten - or lag backward, but stepped to his place as might he who is warm for - vengeance. I did not like this Catron's looks; surely the creature was a - blackguard with no right to name himself among gentlefolk, only so far as - one might lie within the accident of decent birth. But he seemed stout - enough of kidney, though that may have grown with a belief in his - infallible craft of the sword. - </p> - <p> - We gave our men their arms; and as, stripped to their shirts, they stood - apart, awaiting signal to engage, Noah put point to floor, and bearing - hard upon the hilt, bent his blade double. Abruptly lifting his hand, the - honest steel sprang straight, and the sword was tossed high in the air. As - it fell, with the clear, sureness of legerdemain, Noah caught it by the - hilt. It was no more than a flourish of the fencing school, perhaps; but - it served to hearten me mightily and to put me confident of victory. - Neither was it wanting in effect, I may suppose, on the volatile - Pigeon-breast and his man, Catron; I thought on their side it made - somewhat for a certain seriousness of face. - </p> - <p> - Speaking now of the battle, I must warn you of my inability to tell the - tale in nice and hair-line strokes. It was a notable fight, valorously - sustained and fairly made; but indubitably it did not remain in one like - myself—wholly ignorant of that fencing which pushes or stabs, and - admirable with a saber no farther than striking a downright blow with the - edge—to catch close work, and taste the merit of it. I have no more - of fencing than of Sanscrit, and remember no work, of my own of that - character beyond splitting an Indian's head like a pumpkin in a skirmish - on the Tombigbee. I am strong of arm, and having the day before come - across the long hair of seven white women, murdered at Fort Mimms, - smoke-drying in the wigwams of a Creek village we sacked, I doubtless - smote upon that savage with uncommon violence. - </p> - <p> - When the pair engaged, there were preliminary moments employed in feeling - one another's strength. The swords kept up an incessant thin rasping, with - an occasional singing note as they parted company for thrust or parry. - Even my uneducated vision observed from the commencement how Noah held the - better of it. His address was superior; and I should say that, with a - stiffer wrist, he was withal the more falcon-like in assault, and readier - of recovery. - </p> - <p> - Catron, by his brow of fury, meant death if he might only clothe his point - for it. That was not to be. On the heels of a desperate stroke—it - was fellow to a dozen that preceded it—which Noah foiled with blade - describing a circle no bigger than a curtain-ring, Catron's flushed cheek - faded to ghastly gray. For the moment I thought him touched; but no, it - was but the sudden daunting conviction that he had met his master. This, - breaking on him like the boom of a death-bell, and how his life stood now - naked before one whom he had so provoked, ate the yolk from his courage - like a weasel. - </p> - <p> - Catron foresaw his downfall before we who looked on might tell. And if I - am to understand a gray, drawn face, then the news taught him the - bitterness of death itself. - </p> - <p> - In the opening exchanges, Catron attacked. He was in and out with a - hateful ferocity, thrusting and pressing, as one whose merest wish is - murder. Noah gave backward not at all, but stood like a wall, risking all - on eye and wrist. I could not catch the sleight of it, but again and - again, as Catron thrust, I could see the lead-colored blade glimmer by - Noah's side with not an open inch to give away. As Noah told me later, - however, an inch in fencing is a wide margin. - </p> - <p> - Catron felt his strength slip from him; it was like the sands running from - an hour-glass. But the rogue's heart summoned stoutness. Finding himself - going, Catron must crowd the strife to an end before it ended him. He - leaped back to get his distance; then without pause, and giving a sort of - bellowing, roaring cry that may have been a scheme for terror, he sprang - forward, sending on his point as straight as the stroke of a serpent. - </p> - <p> - What befell was like the lightning's flash; and no man's gaze, however - trained to the trick of it, might follow. Noah did not parry, but stood - aside from the other's point, which, passing, grazed his garments. Noah's - point, in retort, entered Catron's sword arm just above the guard. I saw - Noah hold his own hand high, and with point a bit lowered. Noah ripped up - his foe's arm—split it like a mackerel!—from wrist to - shoulder. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0142.jpg" alt="0142 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0142.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - It was a gaping furrow of a wound; and the horrid shock of it, when Noah's - steel caught in the shoulder bones, brought the wretched Catron to the - floor. The blood ran away in a crimson rivulet from the prostrate one; and - to tell the best and the worst of me, I've yet to look on blood, or - anything besides, which brought me so much of comfort and of the sweetness - of peace. - </p> - <p> - While the surgeon, needle and lint going, dealt with Catron, I conveyed - Noah to the end of the room. We must await the report of yon fellow's - condition; we could not leave the field without consent of Pigeon-breast—quite - pale and stricken now, was Pigeon-breast, as he stood watching while the - bandages were wound. - </p> - <p> - Following a nod of the surgeon's, Pigeon-breast came towards me. I met him - on his way. - </p> - <p> - “The thing is ended,” said Pigeon-breast; his voice came huskily, and in a - fashion faint. “The thing is at an end. My friend can not hold sword.” - </p> - <p> - “That is enough,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “One word, sir,” said Noah, coming forward, handkerchief all red where he - had been cleaning his blade; “you are to take notice: I from this day - shall seek out with challenge each man who speaks evil of Mrs. Eaton. That - creature who lies there, and whom, maugre his wound, I still contemn for - the rogue and fetch-dog of Henry Clay I painted him, may be for warning.” - </p> - <p> - “But has Mrs. Eaton no husband to fight for her?” sputtered Pigeon-breast, - not relishing Noah's attitude. - </p> - <p> - “Let that go by,” retorted Noah, sternly. “Your diplomacy shall not reach. - Again I tell you, he who shall assail Mrs. Eaton with word or look, or who - fails to please that lady with his conduct, replies to me. I wounded this - one; I shall slay the next.” - </p> - <p> - “What is this to be?” cried Pigeon-breast, appealing to me in a flutter of - spiteful fright. “Is it that we have a bravo?” - </p> - <p> - “A bravo whom you are like to encounter, sir,” I said, “unless you teach - your tongue some prudence—you and your tribe.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, I would refuse to meet a bravo.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, you would meet the bravo or meet me.” Then came a rush of temper - about my heart. I thought on poor Peg; and a great anger began to flame in - me. I glowered on the tinsel Pigeon-breast; then I thrust towards him my - huge bear-paw hands. Pigeon-breast considered them, and the hairy wrists - like pistons, with a kind of interest of dismay. “Sir,” said I, “the first - foul dog among you who shall so much as take the name of that innocent one - upon his lips, I'll find him out, and with the ruth one grants to - rattlesnakes, I'll kill him with these fingers.” - </p> - <p> - And so ended that blood letting which was meant to tie the tongue of - slander and in a measure did. - </p> - <p> - “I shall leave it to you,” observed Noah as we came away, “to place this - affair before the President in a right light. His is the only judgment - whose favor I would seek, and that, particularly, for that his name is - certain to figure in the story of this bicker whenever it is told. I would - not have him think I had rashly put him in peril of criticism.” - </p> - <p> - “There should be no alarm on that score,” I replied. “My word for it, the - General will endorse with his full name every step we have taken.” - </p> - <p> - On our return to the Indian Queen we found Rivera waiting, and a table - spread in Noah's apartment as he had commanded. Rivera received the - Spanish swords, still wrapped in the concealing cloak. He drew forth of - its scabbard the blade which had armed Noah's hand; it still carried a - stain or two of that Catron's blood, and Rivera's eye seemed to fire with - a sleepy satisfaction while he looked on it. Then he turned his gaze on - his patron in a manner of inquiry. - </p> - <p> - “No, he will live,” said Noah, as though in reply to a query put by his - protege; “it was not to kill him that we went across the way.” - </p> - <p> - At this news, Rivera took the Spanish swords and withdrew; and all with - the evident purpose of putting them in order against a next campaign. - </p> - <p> - “I think,” said I, as Noah drew up to the table—for it would seem - that his work had given his appetite an edge, not dulled it—“I think - I shall hunt up our friend the General. There is slight chance of any - being before me; and yet I would make sure to bring him the earliest word - of what has chanced.” - </p> - <p> - Both Hill and Kendall would be for leaving, also, and as we three arose to - go Noah filled a quartet of glasses with Burgundy. Offering one to each, - he said: “Let us drink to the defeat, ay! even to the death of ones who - would bear false witness against the innocent. May their best fate be no - better than the fate of him whom we met to-day.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V—REVEREND CAMPBELL AND THE MAGPIE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was as good as a - study of character, the varying fashions wherein those interested received - the story of Noah's clash with Catron. There was nothing told of it in the - paper, for the port wine Duff was wise withal, and suppressed whatever of - hunger may have possessed him to print a palatable piece of news. The - General might not approve such type-freedoms; Eaton would doubtless - distaste a notoriety of this hue for Peg; indeed, there might be others of - consequence whom it would disturb. The port wine Duff carried a gulping - appetite for public printing; it might befall that to offend would get - between the legs of his anticipations and trip them up. Wherefore, neither - Noah, Catron, Pigeon-breast, nor myself, was granted the contemplation of - his valor by the pleasing light of ink; I, myself, did not consider this a - deprivation; nor did Noah; nor Catron, so far as one might hear. But the - chagrined Pigeon-breast bewailed it. He was quite crestfallen, and among - intimates talked of the call for a court journal which should, like a - similar imprint of St. James, delicately set forth the surprising deeds of - our nobility. - </p> - <p> - It was I who gave the tale of that ballroom fight at Gadsby's to the - General. He took it coolly; granted it, in sooth, a more quiet reception - than I had hoped. The fair truth is, I was prepared for an explosion. I - was pleasantly fooled; the General could not have displayed less temper - had I related the breaking of a horse. And yet he made claim for slimmest - detail; question after question on his part prolonged narration for an - hour. - </p> - <p> - “It was the best that could be,” said the General, revolving the tangle in - his mind. “The great thing is to stop folk's mouths; and a duel well - fought, and with the right individual, is, as Noah says, the way to - construct such condition. I've known the killing in proper form of one man - to remove a slander from the conversation of a whole county. Folk let it - fall of themselves and never took it up again.” - </p> - <p> - “This Catron,” said I, “was a noted fighter and had been out before.” - </p> - <p> - “Which is precisely,” responded the General, “what makes the work worth - while. Here was a berserk, celebrated as one most frothingly prompt for - blood. Now he is disposed of, it will tame your minor war-hawks. They'll - not be half so ready; they may even surprise themselves with what they - will hereafter forbear in favor of keeping the peace.” - </p> - <p> - Eaton, strange to tell, was moved of anger against Peg's champion. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said Eaton, bearing himself stiffly to Noah, “it is far to the - wrong side of the regular that you should defend my wife. That is my - privilege, sir; it does not rest with others.” - </p> - <p> - “And that is true,” returned Noah, politely; “but the situation was - unusual. It was of crying importance to get the thing off before the - President knew. Folk would criticise him sharply if he did not interfere - for peace. Besides, had you been brought into the business, your foes - would have torn your prospects to pieces with it. You must see, sir, that - however just your quarrel, you could not ride into the cabinet on the back - of a duel.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, I can better be out of a cabinet,” said Eaton grimly, “than leave my - honor to the swords of other men.” - </p> - <p> - “You and I,” returned Noah, turning distant, “disagree extremely. I can - not charge myself with wrong. I should act my part again were occasion to - rise. You, however, are the judge of your own injuries. And I shall be in - town some time.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, I am glad to be told so,” responded Eaton. “When I have more - considered, I may send a word to you.” - </p> - <p> - This wrong discourse I was ear-witness of, but in it bore no part. I was - so stung with anger against Eaton, for that he would act the boor, and - talk of calling folk out when he should be thanking them, I dared not - trust myself with a syllable. I would have spoken nothing pleasant for - Eaton, and that would be a wide flight from wise, and draw his horns my - way. We were both too near the General to talk of a difference that would - have broken everybody's dish. Moreover, Noah owned the wit and the wrist - to very well care for his own fortunes. - </p> - <p> - “Why, the man is clean beside himself!” exclaimed the General, when he - learned of Eaton's high heels. “What franchise could he pretend to for a - quarrel with Noah? Noah's right to fight with whom he will, and for any - reason good to his own eyes and those of his adversary, is not to be - impeached. Eaton has surprised me out of bounds! For myself, I'd as soon - think of stepping between a man and his wife, as a man and his enemy. Sir, - there are relations which are sacred! Eaton's great love for Peg has - blurred him; a husband is ever a bad judge of either his rights or his - wrongs. I'll set Eaton to the properest view in this when we meet.” - </p> - <p> - The General was scandalized in the face of Eaton's pose. But I did not go - with his theory of its being love for Peg. It was offspring rather of a - March-hare vanity that resented a good office for which it lacked the - generosity to be grateful. - </p> - <p> - It would seem, however, that the General read Eaton a right lesson, for he - made amends. He came blandly to Noah. - </p> - <p> - “I am told,” he said, “by one whose friendship and whose judgment I never - doubt, that I have behaved badly towards you. Permit me to offer my - apologies. Also, I am to thank you for your service against that - scoundrel.” - </p> - <p> - Noah took Eaton's explanation in courtly spirit, and so the wrinkles were - made smooth. I was relieved, though not pleased; I would have found no - fault with Noah had he gone a ruder course. - </p> - <p> - “Where is this Catron?” asked Noah. - </p> - <p> - “As to that,” replied Eaton, “I think myself qualified to answer. I sent - to learn his condition, and with some purpose, so soon as he was able, of - taking him up where you let go of him. The word came back that he had quit - the town.” - </p> - <p> - It was Peg, however, who minded her debt to Noah. She went to him with wet - eyes, and, without word, took his sword hand in both of hers and kissed - it. Noah started back. - </p> - <p> - “That is too much,” he cried. “It is I who will be now in arrears to you - for the balance of my days.” - </p> - <p> - It stood the day but one following the affair of Gadsby's, and I was - comfortably in my own room engaged about my letters. If I were to bide - with the General, and not immediately to see Nashville, then I must name a - manager and put my plantations in some kind of command. There were to be - missives from the General, also, and we had arranged to send them west on - the next day by hand of a special express. It would take him six weeks, - that horseman and his saddle-bags, with roads as they were, to win to - Tennessee; we were then at some fever, you will understand, to have our - mails concluded and riding on their way. - </p> - <p> - As I drove my quill rapidly across the pages, Jim was busy in the - adjoining bedroom, giving a polish to my boots. Jim cheered himself over - his labors with snatches of song. - </p> - <p> - As I wrote hard at my desk, I could hear him, in a most lugubrious - refrain:= - </p> - <p> - ``Thar's a word to be uttered to d'rich man an' his pride; - </p> - <p> - ``(Which a man is frequent richest when it's jest befo' he died.) - </p> - <p> - ``Thar's a word to be uttered to d'hawg a-eatin' truck; - </p> - <p> - ``(Which a hawg is frequent fattest when it's jest befo' he's stuck.)= - </p> - <p> - “Cease that outlandish howling,” I commanded furiously. - </p> - <p> - “Shore, Marse Major!” said Jim, coming into the room where I sat, and - bringing one of my high horseman boots on his arm, polishing it the while - with unabated ardor; “shore, Marse Major! An' yet, that's a mighty well - liked song up an' down d'Cumberland. Hit's been made, that song is, by - Miss Polly Hines; little Miss Polly who lives over on d'Possom Trot. She - makes it all about a villyun who comes fo'closin' 'round her paw's - betterments for what he owes that Dudleyville bank, an' sellin' 'em off at - public vandoo. Marse Major, you-all oughter listen to d'res' of that - roundelay; if you'd only hear it plumb through, Jim sort o' reckons you'd - like it.” - </p> - <p> - I made no response, but kept on with my work. I was not to be moved of - ballads as Jim rendered them, even though vouched to be the offput of that - Sappho of the 'Possom Trot. - </p> - <p> - Ten minutes went racing by and Jim reappeared in the door. - </p> - <p> - “Say, Marse Major, do you-all recollects that gentleman who comes - pesterin' about for them subscriptions, an' who d'Marse Gen'ral done - skeers off d' time you an' me is goin' down to d'parlor to meet dish yere - Missis Eaton?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, what about him?” - </p> - <p> - “He's been 'round ag'in to-day. It's this mornin' whiles you is sleepin', - an' I runs up on him outside in d'hall, kind o' ha'ntin' about our door. I - say: 'What you-all want?' He say: 'I want to see d'Marse Major.' With that - I ups an' admonishes him that you-all is soun' asleep. 'An',' I says, 'it - don't do to go keerlessly wakin' d'Marse Major up. He's got a monstrous - high temper, that a-way, d' Marse Major has, an' all you has to do is rap - on that door jes' once, an' he'll nacherally come boilin' outen bed, an' - be down on you like a failin' star; that's what he will.' Then I tells him - he can't get no subscriptions from you no how; that you is a heap sight - worse than d' Marse Gen'ral 'bout 'em. 'You hyar me!' I expostulates; - 'you-all is simply barkin' at a knot; thar aint no sign of a raccoon up - that tree at all. You-all might jes' as well try to get sugar-sap outen a - swamp-beech as subscriptions outen d'Marse Major!' Shore, that's what Jim - tell 'um.” - </p> - <p> - “And for that, you miscreant, I'll give him a hundred dollars when he does - come, to show him how little truth you tell.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't go blazin' off into a fandad, Marse Major,” said Jim, reprovingly, - “throwin' your money away. Dish yere gentleman 'sponds to Jim, an' allows - he aint aimin' at no subscriptions. But he do say he want to see you; an' - so I tell him to be back ag'in in five hours. He's liable to come buttin' - in yere any minute now, as d' time Jim sots is done arriv'.” - </p> - <p> - As if for endorsement, a knock was heard at the door. - </p> - <p> - There were two to enter, a man and a woman. The man was huge of frame, - shambling, uncouth, with knobby joints and large uncertain feet; his face - flabby, sickly, with little greedy, shifty eyes, like the eyes of swine; - gross mouth, full lipped and coarse, and working and munching in a - full-fed way, engaging itself upon imaginary mouthfuls. The hands of this - individual were puffy, warty members, with palms as hot and wet and soft - as an August swamp, and, save for their temperature, much like the belly - of a toad to the feel. These hands were commonly in motion, making - plausible and deprecatory gestures. It was as though the world were a cat - and they would stroke its back by way of conciliation. Over all was - obsequiousness like a veil—my visitor seemed to sweat subserviency, - exhale abasement as an atmosphere. The woman, thin, and bird-faced, and - with beaky nose that looked as though the frost had pinched the neb, was - of the chattering, empty, magpie flock; she appeared as vulgar as the man; - albeit, not with his obsequiousness, since she affected the girlish, and - stood ready with giggle and gurgle and arch look, all of which but poorly - fitted with her sober fifty years. From an odor of pulpits observable, I - thought him a preacher; also, I took the woman to be his wife. - </p> - <p> - The man—I will thus far defend him—was not, however, that - subscription person whom Jim remembered with the General. - </p> - <p> - “Dish yere's d'gentleman who is done been teeterin' 'round our door this - mornin',” said Jim, as he ushered the visitors. - </p> - <p> - “It is not the gentleman who called on the General,” I remarked. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what's d'diffrunce, anyhow?” asked Jim with mighty unconcern. “He's - a preacher, so it's all d'same.” - </p> - <p> - “No difference, perhaps,” I returned, “except to make plain how little you - are to be relied on.” - </p> - <p> - “I s'ppose Jim's as cap'ble of mistakes as anybody.” Here Jim lapsed into - the abused tone of one virtuous, and driven to the desperate by ill-usage. - “But I tells you-all, Marse Major; since you done locks up that demijohn, - Jim aint been d'same niggah. His mem'ry has sort o' begun to bog down. No - wonder Jim gets folks swapped 'round foolish in his mind.” - </p> - <p> - While these reproofs were going, my callers stood by the door, inviting - consideration with much bending of the body and bowing of the head. - </p> - <p> - “I am the Reverend Campbell,” began the man; “I am pastor of a precious - flock in this town. And this is Deborah, my beloved consort. I trust I - find all well and holy here, and the blessing of the Spirit upon this - place?” - </p> - <p> - Then the Reverend Campbell re-began his abject bowing, while his magpie - wife smirked and giggled sociably. - </p> - <p> - It had been long since I met folk who more repelled me. For the sake of - his cloth, however, and the real respect I bore it, I required myself to - assume a manner of cordiality. I asked the purpose of the visit. - </p> - <p> - “It was my privilege,” responded the Reverend Campbell, with a - meeting-house snuffle that certain divines adopt as a professional manner - of articulation, “I may say it was my inestimable privilege some years - back, to behold in the body of the church, during many of my preachments, - that mighty man of war, our coming president, and his sweet lady; although - she—for flesh is as grass—has since perished and passed over - to dwell among the blest.” - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Jackson was my nearest, dearest friend,” simpered the awful magpie - wife, interrupting. “It was when General Jackson had a seat in the senate. - We were like loving sisters, Mrs. Jackson and I.” - </p> - <p> - This last I distrusted, but I did not say so. - </p> - <p> - “You are the General's old preacher?” I said; the Reverend Campbell - meanwhile seesawing and bowing, and locking and unlocking his warty - fingers. “Have you been in to meet the General?” - </p> - <p> - “Not yet, good sir, not yet,” replied the Reverend Campbell. “That shall - be in good time. Since you abide on terms of intimacy with our coming - president, I deemed it prudent to first make myself known to you. Knowing - David, I would know Jonathan. There is a business—a piece of sinful, - worldly business—I would inquire of, a boon I would ask, and ere I - went to the transaction thereof, I held it sapient to call upon you who - will be so strong to bind or loose—so potent, as one might say, in - the coming dispensation of preferments.” - </p> - <p> - The Reverend Campbell—who should have been a mandarin for his - repulsiveness and talents to bow—kept up his bending, while the - magpie wife in vacuous vanity, beamed on like a tarnished sun. To put a - stop to the bowing, which began to grow on me nervously, I bade the pair - be seated. They would remain the longer, but I would save myself with less - of irritation. - </p> - <p> - “I do not come for myself,” observed the Reverend Campbell, snuffling, and - balancing uneasily on his chair's edge. His wife had taken her seat with - more of confidence; spreading her skirts to advantage, and leaning back as - one certain of results. “No, it is by request of a beloved brother in - Christ, the Reverend Doctor Ely of Philadelphia. Our great Chief - Magistrate knows him and loves him well.” - </p> - <p> - Then the Reverend Campbell went on in pulpit tones to elaborate his - mission. It soon declared itself to be the old Duff Green errand of office - angling. Also, it was a coincidence something strange, I thought, when the - Reverend Campbell, following in the very footprints of the wine colored - Duff, spoke of the Florida Governorship, and named the same wealthy zany - for its occupation. - </p> - <p> - “He is a Pennsylvania Westfall,” concluded the Reverend Campbell, his - breath bated and his air impressed, “he is a Pennsylvania Westfall, and - extremely rich of this world's goods. Doctor Ely desires this post for him - with all his heart; he believes, moreover, that his old friend, our - excellent president, who—and heaven be thanked!—is less than a - scant two weeks away from his inauguration, will be glad to pleasure him - in this regard. You might, sir, hint to that eminent statesman and soldier - how his friend, Doctor Ely, would profit by this selection, going, as in - that event he will, to St. Augustine, to be chaplain for the then Governor - Westfall.” - </p> - <p> - “And my husband, too, would be called to Dr. Ely's place in Philadelphia,” - gurgled the magpie wife; “it's a much richer church than the one here.” - </p> - <p> - There, then, was the cat out of the bag; I had been guessing for some - moments in the dark, as to why the Reverend Campbell should so zealously - be fishing for office when he ought to be fishing for souls. The magpie - wife granted me a glint of his secret. It did not swell my fund of respect - for the Reverend Campbell, a fund nothing rotund as things stood. - </p> - <p> - “You should see the General,” I said at last. “These are not my affairs; I - would not presume, wanting his invitation, to advise with him concerning - them. You should see him; or, if you will, you might wait until Van Buren - arrives.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, yes; the coming Secretary of State,” remarked the Reverend Campbell, - while his thick lips munched unpleasantly. “Will Mr. Van Buren make the - Florida selection?” - </p> - <p> - I was driven to say I thought not; the General himself had been once - Governor of Florida; therefore, he might believe he was the one better - qualified to make such appointment. - </p> - <p> - Beholding the Reverend Campbell in the throes of doubt, tipping on his - chair, and looking with his black clothes not a little like a crow - hesitating on a fence-rail as to whether or no he will plump down among - the sprouting corn, I suggested,—to relieve myself, I fear—that - now he was come, he might better go in to the General and offer his - request. I entertained no thought of success for him; I had not forgotten - the fate in that connection of the pursy Duff—Duff of the ripe, ripe - nose. But I aimed at a riddance of the Reverend Campbell and his leering, - bubbling helpmeet; and I was not so loyal to the General as to prevent me - from earning my own release by betraying him into their talons. - </p> - <p> - “Do you deem it the part of sagacity,” said the Reverend Campbell, - following a thoughtful pause, “to crave this boon at once?” - </p> - <p> - “Sagacious? surely!” I would have given my word for anything to work free - of the Reverend Campbell and that magpie wife, the latter gentlewoman - being rusty of plume, strident, and of but a sorry favor of face; to say - nothing about her gigglings and chuck-lings; for that vacant dame was like - a parrot, with a running rattle of vocalisms, going from gurgle to chirp, - as an accompaniment to whatever was said by her lord and master. - </p> - <p> - “Then let us repair to him,” said the Reverend Campbell, raising his hands - as if asking a benediction on me and my belongings; “let us hie to him and - unbosom ourselves, and may we find him in grace of spirit and well of this - mortal body.” - </p> - <p> - We discovered the General in his rooms. We found him in a rather merry - spirit for him. He was sitting by his fire, with Peg on a footstool at a - corner of the fireplace. - </p> - <p> - Hearing of the General's diet of rice, Peg's mother—she lived over - to the south, across that wooded strip, the Mall—holding herself to - excel in certain elixirs and cordials and draughts marvelous for maladies - stomachic, had sent to the General's relief a bottle of medicine warranted - of transcendent merit, and in which dandelion flourished a dominant - element. The good lady would trust her drugs to none save Peg; there she - was, then, the fairest foot and hand ever to be sent on porter's work or - to run an errand with a message. - </p> - <p> - The unexpected sight of Peg sent over me a wave of pleasure. I love the - beautiful, have an inborn joy of it, and who or what could be more lovely - than our Peg—Peg with her wildrose face? - </p> - <p> - The General glanced up through the tobacco smoke wherewith the rooms were - cloudy. Peg had said she loved smoke, and could stand to it like a side of - bacon. His look was of half-recognition as it settled upon my company. - </p> - <p> - “The Reverend Campbell, is it not?” said he. - </p> - <p> - “The same, Mr. President,” returned the other, commencing again those - bowing motions which had so tortured my soul, his flabby cheeks the while - exuding a beady dew; “the same. And here is Deborah, my well-beloved wife, - Mr. President.” - </p> - <p> - The magpie one of rumpled feather gained indication by the Reverend - Campbell pointing to her with a bulbous forefinger that was somewhat - suffering about the nail for lack of care. The magpie one gave the usual - proof of her satisfaction with chirp and giggle. - </p> - <p> - “The last time I beheld you, Mr. President,” said the Reverend Campbell, - “you and your dear wife sat beneath my words.” The General flinched as - though a rude hand touched a wound. He gathered himself, however. “That - dear one, Mr. President, has gone from our midst. It is a chastening, Mr. - President. Whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth. It is a loss, Mr. - President, but we must summon meekness of spirit. Blessed are the meek in - spirit, saith the singer, and they shall inherit the earth. Mr. President, - let us pray.” - </p> - <p> - The Reverend Campbell rolled forth the foregoing, and never halt or pause; - with the last word he was down upon his knees, expanding into a gale of - prayer. - </p> - <p> - It is not for me to pass upon such sacred petitions, but the Reverend - Campbell's effort grated on my conscience as crude, and, if the term be - not improper, vulgar. The General, who was still in his chair, bowed head - in hand and sat silent throughout. He made neither sign nor sound; and yet - it must have galled him like musketry, that prayer. - </p> - <p> - It was when the Reverend Campbell stood again on his feet, and the magpie - one had rearranged her feathers, that their glances took in Peg where she - now stood near the fire. She was silent, collected, and her calm look - rested upon the Reverend Campbell and the magpie one. It was a steady - glance of unseeing indifference and unacquaintance, and as though the pair - were strangers to her. - </p> - <p> - Their actions, however, would smack of something nearer. No sooner did - they behold Peg, than with one impulse they started towards her, faces a - garden of smiles. - </p> - <p> - “Why, my dear Mrs. Eaton!” cried the magpie one. - </p> - <p> - “My dear, recovered lamb!” exclaimed the Reverend Campbell. - </p> - <p> - The two made for Peg with exuberant hands extended. Peg waved them off. - </p> - <p> - “You make a mistake,” said Peg. Her words took flight evenly and with - nothing of disturbance. “I do not know you.” Then, as the Reverend - Campbell and his magpie love seemed but half checked: “And I will not know - you.” - </p> - <p> - These closing words were vibrant of a nipping vigor, and Peg's leopard - teeth came together with a click, and, as it were, for emphasis. Peg - turned to me: - </p> - <p> - “Will you take me to my carriage?” - </p> - <p> - With that, the General arose and cavaliered Peg to the door. - </p> - <p> - “Give my thanks to your good mother, child,” said the General, his fond - eye pleasant with the reflection of Peg's pretty face; “tell her I shall - profit by her kindness. I feel half restored with merely having the - Dandelion Water on my shelf.” - </p> - <p> - Closing the door after us, the General returned to the Reverend Campbell - and his magpie love. - </p> - <p> - “There is no story with it.” Peg replied, when I put those queries the - situation suggested. “They are folk of treachery; that is it. They have - been my persecutors as much as any. And with more shame for them, since - they have pretended friendship for my family, and had support from my - father for year piled upon year.” - </p> - <p> - “And is that the whole of it?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Truly, it is, my best dear friend.” Peg held up her pansy face, and - offered me a cheerful look by way of proof. “Nor am I even a trifle - provoked. For all that, I would not permit them because they found me with - the good General, and with you”—she gave my arm a little pressure—“and - doubtless would offer some request, to put on a false face, and so use me - for their interest. I owe them no such tenderness. Besides, since I've - found real friends,”—Peg crowded to my side more closely, and bent - upon me her kind, unfathomed eyes, as though admitting my protection,—“since - I've found real friends, I've no room in my heart for mocking imitations.” - Peg laughed her witch-laugh now, and stepped on more quickly. “Don't let - us talk of them,” she said, “don't let us talk of such hollow folk!” - </p> - <p> - Peg's carriage stood at the curb. Indeed, she had but just arrived when, - as I piloted the Reverend Campbell and the magpie, I found her by the - General's fire. - </p> - <p> - “Some day you must go with me to meet my mother,” said Peg; “I've promised - her.” Then, as I lifted her into the carriage, “Mercy! you should practice - for a lighter hand. I feel as one in the paws of a bear.” - </p> - <p> - With a wave of her hand, she was off for the President's Square where her - home stood; I, on my part, turned back to the General, walking slowly, and - seeing Peg's gentle eyes before me all the way to his door. Sweet Peg! had - it been I, no tawdry ambition of politics would have divided my heart with - you; you would have reigned over it alone; we would have left Washington - to the vermin who devoured it, and made our kingdom in lands of peace and - truth! - </p> - <p> - It was not without relief I discovered that the Reverend Campbell, with - his magpie mate, was gone. - </p> - <p> - “Assuredly, no!” exclaimed the General, when I inquired whether the name - of Doctor Ely, and the petition preferred of the Reverend Campbell, had - re-colored his thoughts touching St. Augustine and the Florida - Governorship; “assuredly, no! He who has that place from me must be - emphatically two things—a man and a friend. The creature, Westfall, - is emphatically neither. I can not guess, however, in what this sudden - office-hunting excitement of our ghostly fathers finds its source. I asked - the Reverend Campbell, was this Westfall known to him. He said, only by - repute; that he urged the case at the request of Doctor Ely.” - </p> - <p> - Clearing him on that question of purpose, I told the General of Doctor - Ely's arrangement to be a Governor's chaplain in St. Augustine; and how, - in a moment of gurgling exaltation concerning what might be, that - unguarded magpie exposed the scheme of “calling” our Reverend Campbell to - Doctor Ely's fat present pulpit, should it become vacant in favor of palms - and orange groves. - </p> - <p> - “And in that way runs the road!” exclaimed the General, full of leniency - and amusement. “The preachers are becoming better politicians every day. - Major, you and I must look to our lines, or some dominie may yet turn our - flanks.” - </p> - <p> - Then I gave the General what Peg had told of her attitude, like a - diminutive iceberg, towards the Reverend Campbell and his magpie partner. - </p> - <p> - “They have done Peg no actual harm,” I said. “They passed her by one day, - like the Levites they were and are; and now she revenges herself.” - </p> - <p> - “One can always hear the savage stirring about in Peg,” commented the - General; “and I like her the better for it. I love your re-vegeful soul—he - who has a long knife, a long memory, and will go a long trail to his - feud.” - </p> - <p> - “And that is an excellent observe,” I said, teasing him a bit, “and you a - Christian and a president!” - </p> - <p> - “The observe, as you phrase it,” retorted the General, “is not only - excellent but earnest. Revenge is the fair counterpart of gratitude. They - are off the same bolt of cloth. Find me a soul for revenge, and I'll find - you a soul to be grateful. What are revenge and gratitude, when one goes - to the final word, but just a man paying his debts?” - </p> - <p> - “Who is this Doctor Ely?” I asked. “The Reverend Campbell described him as - your friend.” - </p> - <p> - “Doctor Ely is no more than an acquaintance, and hardly that. I met him - years ago in Philadelphia; and I've heard him preach. He is a showy, - fashionable figure of man; not deep, yet musical and fluent. The women, I - remember, liked his discourses right well. There were a beat and a march - to his periods; and albeit, while he talked, the wise ones went to sleep, - others with music-boxes for minds, and who mistook sensation for sense, - sat bolt upright, feeling the liveliest delight.” - </p> - <p> - “I've met the latter sort,” I assented; “the gentry who prefer rhyme to - reason.” - </p> - <p> - “Somehow,” observed the General, following an interval of silence, “I ever - fear I'll be unfair to your preachers. My inclination is to judge them too - harshly—estimate them below their worth. It has been ever the fault - of military men to do this, and, for myself, I would guard against it.” - </p> - <p> - “And now will you explain what you are talking about?” I was in cold - earnest, for the General's remorse over an injustice to preachers was - clean beyond me and <i>apropos</i> of nothing. - </p> - <p> - My own thought galloped to it—for his wife taught him that softness, - being as devout as an abbess, herself—that for the dominies, as an - order or trade among men, he carried more of charity than any whom I knew. - More by far than I could boast, or cared to. “Why do you reproach yourself - about the preachers?” - </p> - <p> - “It was this Doctor Ely,” returned the General, “of whom I was thinking. I - was remembering certain severities of judgment towards him long ago. I - heard him preach, yet could give him no credit for sincerity. He impressed - me as one who looked often in the glass and seldom from the window. He was - friendly, affable, and, I think, honest; and yet I liked him no more than - I like that reverend cringer who was just now here. I well recall saying - to this Doctor Ely—probably I had him in my mind's eye at the time, - and it hurt him, too—that he who was professionally good would never - be very good, nor he who was excellent for a salary offer an example of - the best excellence. It may be that my natural distrust of preachers is, - after all, nothing save my natural fear of them. You have not forgotten - how I told you I feared men of peace. That is true; I fear folk who - profess peace as a principle—your Quaker and your preacher—as - I fear and fall back before the inhuman, or as children fear a ghost. It - is all to be accounted for perhaps, in the differing natures of folk. One - man has a genius for peaceful while another's bent is for war, and each - will misunderstand the other's motives. There can be little in common and - less of trust between them, since they will live as far apart as black and - white. It is, I say, quite natural—war and peace—wolf and - sheep. I've no doubt, now,” concluded the General, a smile beginning to - show, “that to your wolf on the hill, your grazing sheep down in the - valley is a mighty suspicious character.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI—THE STORM GATHERS AGAINST PEG - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hose next few - weeks went by in a tumbling procession that was more like mob violence - than aught orderly or sequential. The town was overrun of folk. It was a - climbing case of everybody under foot—everybody stepped on one, and, - in compensation, one stepped on everybody. - </p> - <p> - Jim was driven to remark concerning the collecting tangle of humanity, and - the crush and crowd and jostle of it. The sage Jim was speaking to his own - defence, being indicted for some neglect of me. - </p> - <p> - “'Pears like, Marse Major,” said Jim, soothingly, “you-all must jes' - wrastle along somehow until dish yere pop'lace begins to abrogate. I'm - doin' d' bes' I knows how; but she shorely is a time for every 'possum to - learn to hang by his own tail.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean by 'abrogate?'” I was willing to be amused at the - expense of the erroneous Jim. - </p> - <p> - “You don't tell me, Marse Major, that you-all don't know what 'abrogate' - means?” - </p> - <p> - Jim imitated astonishment. “Why, a thing abrogates when it beds itse'f - down—kind o' quiles itse'f up like a moccasin snake.” - </p> - <p> - It was impressive, the throng in the streets—a multitude hungry for - office—a multitude it would ask a miracle to feed and fill. The - whole country was come to town, the place blazed with Jackson badges, - every face shone with victory. It was a pretorian band, and had borne its - beloved captain into power on its shields. It was present now for - jubilation and for spoil. - </p> - <p> - For myself, I surveyed the surging, shouting, unkempt thousands with - disfavor; the General liked and applauded them. - </p> - <p> - “They are as rightfully here,” said he, “as the smuggest, slyest rascal of - riches of them all. We are done with Adams and his Federal dogma, 'The - best dressed citizen is the best citizen.' The day is the day of - democracy.” - </p> - <p> - “And very well,” said I; “democracy is my creed, too. But may it not - scrape its face with a razor? Would soap destroy it? I grow sick of a - democracy which finds no outlet for expression save cowhide boots all mud, - and standing on a damask chair in them.” The General snorted; next to his - dead Saint Rachel, he loved the herd. - </p> - <p> - Noah, who was much in my company these days, gave one of his cynic shrugs. - </p> - <p> - “Major, doubtless you are a democrat,” observed Noah with a comic face. - “But you have been too much solitary, and you've forgotten the tenets of - our faith. You should recall yourself to that inscription on the - cornerstone of our temple: 'The Mob giveth, the Mob taketh away, blessed - be the name of the Mob.'” - </p> - <p> - The weather was fine, and clear as a bell in the sky; but the frost coming - up from the ground made underfoot another sonnet altogether. With bright - air, and sun shining, still the roads weltered mere swamps, and all so set - and puddled of soft ooze they would have bogged a saddle blanket. - Carriages were out of the possible; but, save for crowds on the sidewalks, - folk a-foot did well enough. - </p> - <p> - The pretty Peg was each day to the Indian Queen to chat with us. I saw so - much of her, she grew on me like a habit. - </p> - <p> - Eaton for the war desk was known now to all, and, verbally at least, - acquiesced in. Noah's slicing work with his Spanish sword had been - whispered industriously; scores went up to gaze on the broad blotches of - dull red where the rogue Catron's blood had spread like paint; the arm - wide open from wrist to should der-joint—a very gutter of a wound!—was - dilated upon; and the result appeared in a wholesome caution on the - conversational parts of our enemies. Noah was still in town; and no male - at least came reckless enough to court the fate of Catron. Besides, the - buzz and talk of a new administration scraping its feet at the door and - lifting the latch of events would occupy the public mouth, and mention of - Peg, whether for good or bad, was crowded out of it. The future would have - been the better for peace had these conditions secured a longer - maintenance. - </p> - <p> - Among others, that Reverend Doctor Ely, for whom the equally Reverend - Campbell and the magpie one aforetime came upon the carpet, broke - rapturously into town. I say “broke,” since as a term it may best depict - the effusiveness of that descent upon the General. Twenty years before, - this Ely had met the General; their acquaintance had been as attenuated as - it might be and still bear up the name; and with that slender capital the - hopeful Doctor was present to make the most it. - </p> - <p> - Surely, I met the reverend man. He was a bald, brisk, worldly personage, - with a most noble appetite for the flesh-pots. He carefully sustained - himself the hypocrite in that last behalf, however, and to folk casual he - offered nothing beyond an appearance fervently religious. While with us, - he held forth in sundry local pulpits, and although I heard him not - myself, he was warmly eulogized by pious critics who knew what sermons - should be. - </p> - <p> - The worthy Doctor with a view to Florida dangled about the General. The - Reverend Campbell, and the magpie one, dangled about the worthy Doctor. - They were made to see, with the very finish of it, however, that by no - accident of concession would the General place their man, Westfall, in the - van of Florida affairs to set up mimic thrones in the Governor's Palace of - St. Augustine. - </p> - <p> - The news was a blow to them; and the urgent trio were no Stoics to be - capable of excluding from their brows the chagrin they felt. They no - longer harrassed the General, however, which, when now a score of duties - pulled at him like horses, was no small desideratum. - </p> - <p> - Presumably as a last ditch wherein to perish, the Reverend Doctor Ely came - to me. I was no favorite of his, nor he of mine. To me he was not a - precious metal. Polished? yes—and yet only to remind one of brass. - He was, as I have said, of fashionable model; fond of his burgundy, and - his canvas-back; garbed fastidiously and in the mode; precisely that - character the General so accurately read those years before when he - suspected him as one less concerned for the fit of his conscience than the - fit of his coat. - </p> - <p> - When the Reverend Doctor encountered me, I cut him short. To do this, let - me tell you, I took my courage in my hands, for it is no child's play to - thwart a dominie. - </p> - <p> - “You are one who holds fast for the doctrine of foreordination?” I asked - this like a catechist at his questions. - </p> - <p> - “I am,” returned the Reverend Doctor. - </p> - <p> - “And you believe that many are called while few are chosen?” - </p> - <p> - “I do.” - </p> - <p> - “And in original sin; and infant damnation; and how hell is paved with - children's skulls?” - </p> - <p> - “I do. To what, however, does this move?” - </p> - <p> - “And the love of gold to be the root of evil?” I went on, disregarding the - question thrust at me; “and that it would be easier to pass a camel - through the needle's eye than a rich man into heaven?” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, I insist on hearing the purpose of your surprising curiosity.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, then, it should all be huddled into this. Your Westfall, rich and - sinful, by what you say may be presumed to dwell in multiplied peril of - immortal shipwreck. And since such be your craft, and the trade you pick - up bread by, would it not come more seemly for yourself, and be for this - Westfall an effort more of grace, were you, instead of storming the - General with pleas for a Governorship which might prove but a worm to gnaw - him, to employ your self in bringing about the eternal safe advantage of - his soul?” - </p> - <p> - The Reverend Doctor withdrew, his dander much on furious end, and shortly - thereafter the tail of my eye caught a picture of him, as—heads - close together—he conferred whisperingly with the Reverend Campbell - in a corner of the longroom of the Indian Queen. - </p> - <p> - Since I could not think well, I was careful to think nothing at all of - these reverend office seekers. In that latter I dropped into error; they - were worthy serious respect. I should have borne it more upon my memory - how easy comes destruction, and that he who is incapable of building one - brick upon another may yet tear down the most stubborn best masonry of - man. I should have kept before me those powers for ill which arm the - meanest, and not have forgotten how the veriest vermin of a rat might gnaw - the canvas of a Rubens. - </p> - <p> - Remembering those ignoble ones that evening, I foolishly burst into - disparagement of the clergy as a class. The General was smart for defence. - </p> - <p> - “Humbug!” quoth the General. “Because you have seen the inside of two, you - would have it you know them all. It were as wise if you declared - Washington to be a traitor for that Arnold would have sold West Point. - Every tub, even a pulpit tub, must stand upon its own bottom.” - </p> - <p> - I have told how dumb and dead lay vilification on the masculine lip, and - that no man so much as breathed against the fame of Peg. There was notice - on its way to show the women were unquelled. - </p> - <p> - It was the day before the General's inauguration, and he over ears with - his address, reading and re-reading it, so as to give the periods a best - volume and voice, and endow them with that strutting majesty of utterance - his vanity conceived belonged in justice to their merit. He would be by - himself while thus rehearsing, for he took shame to vapor up and down, and - toss about before me, and swore that my presence, glowering from a chair, - would have daunted Cicero. I was glad enough to leave him to himself, it - being but poor sport to play at audience for a bad orator; moreover, since - the speech was written in my Nashville home and wrangled over, as it - proceeded, by the General and myself like dogs over a bone, it would come - to me as nothing new. And so the General was left to plod about in his - paragraphs much like a cow in a morass, difficult and slow, and sinking to - the hocks with every step. I could catch the humming roar of him in my - parlor, while he swaggered about his rooms, singing out shrill and high in - declamation, and reveling in the figure he would cut. - </p> - <p> - While I was idly turning this weakness of the General to think himself a - Patrick Henry, when he had no more of eloquence or music than any midnight - owl, a nervous tap came on my panels. I was instantly on my feet; the tap - quite drove the General and his rhetoric out of my head. By some instinct, - or, mayhap, the tap itself was marked of agitation, I not only recognized - it for Peg, but knew she was in grief. I threw open the door. - </p> - <p> - Peg stepped in; she was white to the lips; and this paleness of ivory - showed the more on her because of the great dark eyes and those midnight - shadows to dwell within her hair. Save for this pallor, however, she - seemed steady as a rock. - </p> - <p> - It was on the outside, though, for no sooner was I seated again than she - drifted down before my feet on the floor, and, with her head on my knee, - broke into a passion of sobbing. I let my hand, for sympathy, rest a - moment on her poor head, and when I thought she would have cried enough, - lifted her up and placed her in a chair. - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” I said. “I thought I was to see no more tears from you.” - This I threw off in half sprightly tones to rally Peg. - </p> - <p> - “Nor shall you,” cried she, “but I was fair spent and beaten for want of a - good cry. And you should know”—she was giving me a trace of - brightness now—“that crying is so much like conversation, to cry - alone is like talking to one's self. I can not go to my husband; and the - General, good and kind, is with it all too old and too great, and, - therefore, too much out of my reach. I've just you; and that's how rich I - am for confidants. I've not a woman to be friend to me in all the world; - nor would I trust her if I had. I've just you; and so you are like to see - a deal of worry.” - </p> - <p> - “All that is mighty sweet,” I returned, “and every word a flower. And yet, - what is the wrong?” - </p> - <p> - “And simply nothing, after all,” she replied. “Only it's so much more - horrible to see it with your eyes than hear it with your ears.” Peg put a - note into my hands. “It came through the post; and doubtless means no more - than the malevolence which was author to it.” - </p> - <p> - The note had no name; nothing to indicate its parentage. It read: - </p> - <p> - “Revenge is sweet! I have you in my power; and I shall burn you as savages - burn their victim at the stake. I pray that you live long to extend my - pleasure. Think not that you can escape me. I would not that death nor any - evil thing should take you out of my hand for half the world.” - </p> - <p> - “The nameless devil!” I cried. “It is a woman's hand of writ, though the - letters are made purposely big and sprawling. Have you any thought at who - she should be?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” returned Peg; “I can not so much as guess.” - </p> - <p> - Peg and I talked the question up and down, I asking and she answering, and - with the end we were where we started, that was nowhere at all. The - Reverend Campbell came into my conjecturings, he and his magpie mate; but - I did not mention them, for what would have been the use of feathering - Peg's imagination with a surmise? - </p> - <p> - “But, in good truth, I came to you,” said Peg at the end, “not for any - hope of solving this. That would be frankly impossible. Rather I am here - to get a drink of your courage; for, faith! though I wear as brave a face - as I may, my own betimes runs something low. And now,”—Peg stood up - and gave me her dainty hand, mimicking the manner of a man—“and now, - my big comrade, having had my cry, and got my draught of courage, I shall - go back to the President's Square; and there I shall forget the whole - story of this miserable letter. That is”—she had gone into the hall - and was closing the door now, with only a strip of her sweet face looking - in to me—“forget all except how I cried at your knee and was very, - very happy because you were good and kind and—let me cry.” - </p> - <p> - When the door was shut, I picked up the note which Peg had left and placed - it in the private locker of my desk. Then I sate me down and thought - revengefully on Peg's wrongs, and the hatefulness of him who should think - her harm. But her dark, deep eyes were forever coming in to look on me, - and at the last I had a memory for nothing but her beauty; and, - elaborating thereon, I considered how beauty was in itself a benediction - implied of Providence, and a sermon; and then I got to reading Burns; and - I confess—however often I had spoken of them as so much sweetened - oatmeal—there arose in me a delight from those verses as though they - were the songs of birds. And throughout the whole, from Peg's crying at my - feet until I'd put Burns away in his place, the drone of the General, - thundering on tariff, and finance, and standing armies, and sinking funds, - was in the air; and all futile, so I thought, and dreary and workaday and - commonplace. - </p> - <p> - Somehow, for all of Burns and my meditations, after Peg had left me, my - heart felt poor and robbed. Also, I turned less and less patient with the - General, humming at his coming speech like a great bee in a bottle. At - last I went in to him and gave him my tart opinion of his doings, for all - the world like an actor with a part to study, or some girl primping and - preparing for conquest before a glass. - </p> - <p> - “Have you so forgotten English,” I cried, “that you can not tell your - views to the people without first telling and re-telling them a score of - times to yourself?” - </p> - <p> - But the General was in a high mood and no more to be dealt with than a - tempest. - </p> - <p> - “Take your irritation out for a walk, sir,” said he. “Take a walk for your - nerves. Something has combed your fur wrong-wise; and I don't think it - could have been politics. You prodigiously remind me of one in love, and - who has ear-patience for naught save the voice of his mistress.” - </p> - <p> - Out to walk I went; I did not think the General worth a retort. You are - not, however, to follow his hint, and lose and leave the plain footprints - of the fact. I was no more in love with Peg than was he; I examined myself - on that head and made myself particularly clear. Like all men who are - physically big and strong, and, moreover, like all men border-born and - taught that duty from the ground up of protecting ones weaker than - themselves, particularly women-folk and babes, I went as naturally to - Peg's side in her troubles as ever went deer to drink. It was in my nature - and my lesson to do this. Sympathy is a plant to grow most quickly on - roughest soil; and folk of my shag-bark sort are ever soonest on the - ground, and stay the longest, when the cause is the weeping cause of - woman. - </p> - <p> - And there you have the explanation of my interest for Peg. The General, - himself, was just as headlong; his sympathies fair went about on tiptoe in - a constant search for weak ones in distress. Not humanity alone, but - animals; and I've seen him go forth into midnight sleet and ice—and - Death tearing at his lungs with a cough—to bring in a bleating lamb. - It was, then, but partisan sympathy, and not love in the bud, which I felt - for Peg; and I turned much fortified and quieter in my own thoughts, when, - following a rigid search of my breast, I made it out. - </p> - <p> - Noah, whom I ran across in the corridor, went with me for the walk. We - broke away northward across the city to be free of the crowds which came - and went about Gadsby's and the Indian Queen. When we were more alone and - with the roads to ourselves, I told Noah of the nameless letter to Peg. - </p> - <p> - “And that is a fine feather in the cap of Henry Clay,” I cried; “this - employment of nameless villains to write threats to a girl!” - </p> - <p> - “Now let me set you straight,” said Noah. “I've gone to the ends of this - foul work. It is not the Clay so much as the Calhoun interest which - furnishes the venom. The General is turned round; he believes it to be - Clay. I assure you, the enemy is a Calhoun coterie from South Carolina.” - </p> - <p> - “But what is their purpose?” I asked. “Calhoun is Vice-President; he will - preside over the Senate and be part of the administration. Why should he - seek to mar it?” - </p> - <p> - “Mark you, I do not say,” replied Noah, “that Calhoun, personally, so much - as hears of these wrongs done in his name. Your friends will sometimes go - farther in your cause than you will go for yourself. Let me briefly tell - you what I know. Calhoun would succeed the General for the Presidency. He - spins a web as fine as any spun of spiders. So curiously has he brought - his forces to bear, that of the six he will own three of the General's - cabinet—Berrien, Branch, and Ingham. He wanted the war office, and - was craftily urging Hayne, of his own state, when the General - unconsciously brushed his plan aside with Eaton. Now the Calhoun thought - is to drive Eaton from the place; and to mock at Mrs. Eaton and stain her - with slanders is the Palmetto idea of a method. The more cruel it is, the - more likely to succeed; and the latter condones the ignobility. These folk - play for a White House; and the greater the stake the less of scruple on - the part of the players. Remember, too, these children of evil have just - begun; the attacks, as they proceed, will mobilize a force. The women will - be brought to their aid. We gagged the men's mouths with a duel; but who - is to gag the women's, and how will he go upon the work?” - </p> - <p> - This news about Calhoun was nothing by way of surprise. I knew him to be - as ambitious as Lucifer; more, I was aware of him for no friend of the - General; I had learned that much two years before. - </p> - <p> - While it was within my knowledge, this enmity, I had not set it forth to - the General; the truth of it would have done him no good, and gotten in - the way. It would have served only to fire his wrath, and he was one most - unmanageable when angry. - </p> - <p> - Wherefore throughout the campaign, while the General and Calhoun were - running mates, I said no word of the latter's secret feeling of envious - jealousy and hate, and the General went to the election in the dark, - believing the Vice-President to be among his staunchest friends. Thinking - now of Peg, I began to glimpse a day when the Calhoun rancors would be - worth the General's knowledge. - </p> - <p> - “Assuming that Calhoun languishes to be President,” said I, “and intrigues - for that object, what do you say to the radical sort of his States Rights - position—going in for the right to nullify a general law, and secede - at will from the national circle, and all that? Would you call Calhoun - either politic or right to occupy those positions? - </p> - <p> - “And now for the 'politic and right,'” responded Noah, “Calhoun must go - with the current. A statesman is a scientist of circumstances; he must not - fight wind and tide, but use them. In South Carolina, Nullification and - Secession are doctrines of a first respectability. One meets folk daily - who would sooner be respectable than right; and Calhoun may well be one of - these. No,” observed Noah in conclusion, speaking with emphasis, “Calhoun - must adopt his state, or his state will not adopt him. He can not build - himself for anything without his state; that is the keystone, wanting - which his arch of the future comes tumbling to the ground.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you regard Calhoun as helpless, and that he could not, if he would, - rescue himself on a question of Nullification or Secession?” - </p> - <p> - “No; he's as helpless as a fly in amber; he must go with his state or be - lost.” - </p> - <p> - “Do these proposals of a right to nullify and a right to secede, then, - strike so deep with their roots? I had not thought men cared so much for - tariff.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” replied Noah, “while present States Rights discussion circles about - tariff as argument most convenient, behind it, and as the grand motive, - lurks black slavery. A protest against tariff links many rich merchants, - not alone in Charleston, but in every great seaboard city from Baltimore - to Boston, to this doctrine. They would bring in goods free. There be many - among these, tugged upon by their pockets, who can be brought to States - Rights for a tariff argument, and who would turn off in horror were the - true black slavery reason advanced. There you have the cunning of - Calhoun.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you hold slavery to be the mainspring of States Rights as a - movement?” - </p> - <p> - “Absolutely,” and Noah's tones left no doubt of his conviction. “Slavery - overshadows all. It is a question to yet shake the country in its soul.” - </p> - <p> - There was silence between us; we walked on, I, for my side, ruminating the - words of Noah. The more I considered them, the more they looked the truth. - Calhoun's enmity I made no mouth about believing; indeed, as I've set - forth, it already had dwelt in my knowledge for long. - </p> - <p> - Getting back to what was presently being acted, I spoke of that cabinet - trio whom my companion had marked as of the clan and same family of - politics with Calhoun. - </p> - <p> - “Branch, Berrien, and Ingham,” repeated Noah, “are blood and bone with - Calhoun. If they drive out Eaton, there may come a fourth to strengthen - them. Four of a cabinet six! That would make a mighty beginning in any - hunting of the White House.” - </p> - <p> - “And what,” said I, remembering Peg, and my rage swelling, “what are we to - think of ones who would hunt a White House across the naked honor of a - woman?” - </p> - <p> - “What we are to think,” said Noah, with a toss of the hand, “will be the - least of their worry when once they succeed.” - </p> - <p> - “And that will never happen,” I returned. “I hold it between my palms to - defeat their best laid plan—their most darling chicane, as you shall - witness.” - </p> - <p> - “And so I hope,” said he. “Also, now you know as much as I, it is left - with you to warn the General and make bare to him Calhoun. You are the - right one to speak with him on that skittish topic.” - </p> - <p> - Inauguration as a ceremony came and departed, and I looked on the going - thereof as its most superlative feature. There were twenty thousand people - to hear the General's address; and when he advanced to the platform reared - for him on the eastern front of the Capitol, the multitude doffed hats and - stood a most remarkable spectacle, the like of which I'd never gazed on. - </p> - <p> - But the later horde in the White House defies expression! It was simple - loot and pillage, wanting bloodshed, and nothing carried away. The cowhide - throng, mud and mire to the boot-ears, climbed on sofas and stood on - chairs; they would catch a glimpse of their god at whatever damask cost. - When punch would have been brought for their entertainment, they rushed - upon the servants like red barbarians, struggling, wrestling, the pails - spilled out upon the floors. It was I who settled the disorder, and I - claim credit as for a stratagem which on other fields might have saved a - battle. I caused the drinkables to be quietly withdrawn to the lawn, - beyond the first hill and far to the south. Then from a corner of the East - Room I announced the fact with a loud voice. - </p> - <p> - It was as though my words bore a charm; in a twinkling the White House - proper approached desertion. Folk decent and civilized might again move - about, and quiet ones have peace. The mob never came back, for I made it - my duty that no lack of punch should occur on the lawn; there the - uproarious remained and drank, and at last—those who could walk—they - drifted away, each deviously to his habitat, and something akin to quiet - settled again about the eaves and rafters of the mansion. - </p> - <p> - The General put in most of the next day on a lounge, in nurse to Augustus, - recovering from the ordeal. It all but swept his life away as in a - freshet. However, he pulled through; and when in the evening I went to ask - about his condition, I found him with that little miniature of his wife - I've spoken of, and her hymn-book, wherewith he made his daily church and - said his prayers. What a soul would have been his for cross-handles and - chain-mail!—what a knight! so dauntless among men, and withal so - loyal with all his love to the dear lady of his heart. She might die to - others, but she would never die to him. His love would each night search - her out among the stars. - </p> - <p> - And now we settled down to our strange life. But since I use the word, let - me tell you in how short a period the strange becomes the common; for I - had not been a week in the White House, and in and out of its great rooms, - when all was as familiar and friendly to me as though I had passed my days - from boyhood within the four walls of it. - </p> - <p> - The General's family, beyond himself and me, was made up of his nephew - Donalson, the latter's wife, and the portrait-maker, Earl; not an - extensive circle, truly, and one to be soon contracted by the desertion of - two, as you shall presently hear. - </p> - <p> - We were still in process of that mild wrangle with our new abode which - must ever precede a last adjustment, when, like a clap of thunder from a - sky without a cloud, the General's niece—she who was our Lady of the - White House—came upon him. There lowered something formidable and - gloomy in the mien of the young woman as she entered the room, and because - no towering force of character had distinguished her theretofore, this - cloudy something was the more to be observed. I should have said, too, the - social lines were already being set for and against our pretty Peg, and - this visit of the General's niece was somewhat in the nature of a blow - from the enemy's side. - </p> - <p> - “What is it, my dear?” asked the General, glancing up from his - conversation with me. - </p> - <p> - “Uncle,” she said, much in the manner of a starling which whistles a tune - that has been taught it, “Uncle, I am here to tell you that I can not call - upon Mrs. Eaton. I will receive her, since this is your house, and you its - master. But call on her in return, I can not.” - </p> - <p> - “Hoity toity!” quoth the General, “and now where did you learn these bad - manners?' - </p> - <p> - “It is my duty to myself, Uncle; there is not a lady in Washington, - beginning with Mrs. Calhoun and going down to the least among us, who will - call on Mrs. Eaton; therefore, I can not call on her.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you might better go back to Tennessee, my dear,” said the General. - </p> - <p> - And the niece and her husband went. - </p> - <p> - The word “Calhoun,” had not, however, escaped the General. It was forever - cropping up in manner and form most sinister, that word Calhoun; and in - the entire crusade of venom waged upon our Peg, it seemed on the lips of - everyone with whom the exigencies of the hour threw us into speech, from - the immortal Pigeon-breast to the General's very niece. - </p> - <p> - “The Calhoun interest,” remarked the General, when his young relative had - retired in wrath to pack her trunks, “would appear to be headquarters for - the foe.” - </p> - <p> - The General said “foe” and meant it; for he was one whose eyes were in his - heart and saw ever his enemy in the enemy of his friend. - </p> - <p> - It was then I took occasion to lay out to the General in particular, not - alone the plan of Calhoun to seize a presidency; not alone his leadership - in that war of politics then mustering forces over Nullification and a - state's right to secede, and which in the next Congress gave birth to the - debates between Webster and Hayne; but I went a step beyond, and exhibited - the hidden enmity of Calhoun which was leveled at himself, and had hunted - his destruction as far away as the Seminole campaign, when Calhoun was in - Monroe's cabinet as Secretary of War. - </p> - <p> - “It is true,” I declared; “at that time your only friend was Monroe. - Calhoun in the secret councils of the cabinet was warm to break your - sword.” - </p> - <p> - “How do you know that?” demanded the General, his eye making for heat. - </p> - <p> - “I read it in a letter from Governor Forsythe to Colonel Hamilton. If that - be not enough, I heard it from ex-President Monroe himself, when last - evening he was with us here to dinner. Moreover, I was made aware of it - two years ago on my trip to the Mississippi.” - </p> - <p> - “And why did I not hear of it before?” - </p> - <p> - “You have learned it in ample time for every interest you carry, whether - of your own or Peg's.” - </p> - <p> - “That is true,” said the General, “that is quite true.” Then he mused with - bended brow. At last he burst forth: “I begin to see into the Calhoun - thoughts. He knows my rule, which we agreed on before we left Nashville, - that no member of my cabinet shall succeed me. That leaves him but two - rivals, Clay and Adams, for Crawford can never run again. He has three - adherents in my cabinet through whose aid he hopes to feather the nest of - his ambitions with patronage. He would destroy Eaton with the thought of - gaining a fourth. Meanwhile he will preside over the Senate, and control - legislation in favor of low tariff, if not a flat level of free trade. - Thus he trusts to break down Clay and Adams, who are wedded to protection. - Verily, a most noble, a most delicate bit of chicane!” Here the General - brooded for a long space. “I might admire it,” he went on, “nay, I might - even aid it on its high-stepping way, were it not that he includes in his - intrigue the destruction of a girl. It is like a play, Major, and we must - foil the villain and save our beautiful Peg. Her name shall not be blown - upon, though all the presidencies for ten centuries to come depend upon - it! Peg came spotless among us; and from among us, spotless she shall - depart; and that in the teeth of all the Calhouns that ever came out of - Carolina.” - </p> - <p> - The General smashed his clay pipe at this crisis, and by that token I knew - the thing to be already done. It was a way he had, this pipe-breaking, of - signing his bonds. - </p> - <p> - Peg lived catty-cornered across the President's Square, and ran in and out - of the White House like one of the inmates. She liked the flowers, and she - liked the pictures, and was never tired of gazing at the latter and - smelling to the former. She was so much sunshine about the mansion, not - the lightest nor yet the least gloomy house in nature, but quite the - contrary. - </p> - <p> - One day a little scene occurred about which nothing of import clambered, - and yet I would give it here; for it pleases me when now I'm fallen in the - vale of years, and the General and Peg and those others who were my - friends are dead and gone from out my hands, to remember such frail - matters for their sweetness rather than their consequence; and truth to - say, they stay by me, too, with gentle clearness when events that were of - moment are clean faded from my mind. - </p> - <p> - Peg, then, was dragging me about by the hand—for she was as much the - romp as any child—and we journeyed from room to room, and from - picture to picture. We were standing in front of that portrait of - Washington which Dolly Madison once slashed from its frame to save from - vandal British. - </p> - <p> - “Come,” said Peg, tugging at my wrist with the two hands of her, “I'm - weary of these. Doubtless he was a wondrous fine gentleman”—pointing - to the painted figure of our first president—“and lived well aware - of it, himself, as one may know by the satisfied smirk of him. But show me - some other picture, one more beautiful and less grand—and not so - satisfied with itself, and respectable. All the folk I hate are - respectable, and I begin to loathe the word!” - </p> - <p> - “I can show you the most beautiful picture in the world,” I retorted; and, - whirling her by the shoulders, I stood her before a mirror. - </p> - <p> - Peg looked upon her kindly reflection for long in silence; then her eyes - filled up. - </p> - <p> - “It isn't your compliments I cry for,” said Peg, breaking into a catchy - laugh; “but your tone is so queer with the sheer kindness of it, that I am - taken by the heart. You dear, true friend; you at least think good of - little Peg!” And with that, she came quite close, and turned her face in - wistful yet trusting fashion up to mine. - </p> - <p> - An hour later—and it was growth of this—I did a foolish - action; and yet no harm turned of it, but only a better friendship between - myself and the coxcomb Pigeon-breast. It fell forth when Peg was gone - home, and I alone near the north door of the big East Room, and none save - myself in the broad expanse of that mighty apartment. My soul was somewhat - in arms over Peg, for the wintry moan in her tones when she spoke of my - faith in her goodness was still working on me, and I would have bartered - ten years of my life to have had set before me some specific male of my - species who should avow himself Peg's evil-thinker. My vengeance was - starving and wolfish, and I would have fed it with him. - </p> - <p> - While in this vein of fret and tumult, I caught the voice of Jim in the - hallway outside the door. - </p> - <p> - “Do I know d'Marse Major?” I heard Jim say, apparently in answer to the - question; “does Jim know d'Marse Major? Well, Jim should say likely; for, - you hyar me! Jim's been all through him with a lantern. You-all may tell - them gambler-gentlemen somethin' new about a ace of clubs; an 'mebby you - could post Jim of somethin' he aint heerd about corn whiskey; but I don't - allow thar's anythin' mo' for Jim to learn about d'Marse Major. 'Cause - why; 'cause he's Jim's Marse Major, an' I jes' nacherally raise him, I - does, from a colt.” - </p> - <p> - When I stepped into the vestibule to answer to my own name, and put a stop - to the extravagances of Jim, I saw, to my astonishment, that the caller - was no less a personage than Pigeon-breast. Without pausing to hear his - mission, I took him by the arm and led him out upon the lawn. - </p> - <p> - Once there, however, I was sore put to it to show reason for my conduct, - of the rather extraordinary character of which one caught some glint in - the expression of amazement that made wide the eyes of Pigeon-breast and - all but set his mouth ajar. - </p> - <p> - Now the truth was, that anonymous letter to Peg, and which lay safe locked - in my desk, had ever stuck in my craw. I said it was a woman's hand of - writing, but I was by no means sure. Knowing hardly a baker's dozen of - folk in town, there were not many for my thoughts to run upon in this - scurvy business; and I had had it now and then on my mind—the more - since Pigeon-breast had broken into the trouble at an early hour as the - open ill-wisher of Peg—to call this fine gentleman's attention to - the missive with a view to asking him was he its architect. In my present - frame of hunger to lay hands on a flesh and blood enemy of Peg's—one - of my own rude sex—and I suppose because Pigeon-breast was a foppish - creature of scents and ribbons who might lean to feminine methods of - attack, I put the question to him. Fairly, I blurted it out, and I fear - with nothing of fineness or diplomacy. - </p> - <p> - “Me?” cried the outraged Pigeon-breast in a shrill treble through a sense - of injustice; “me?” he cried again, starting back a pace, perhaps from - savageries which looked out upon him from my eye, “never! On my soul! to - think of such a thing! Me write an anonymous letter! Why, sir,” and poor - Pigeon-breast chirped forth the words like a mouse that has been wronged, - “why, sir, should a man say so, I'd have him to the field, sir, and cut - his throat.” - </p> - <p> - There was no doubt of it; the insulted Pigeon-breast was not the author of - that letter. No man might simulate his indignant excitement. I made amends - handsomely, and for the first time Pigeon-breast and I shook hands. There - was no harm in the creature save that he was a bandbox fool. - </p> - <p> - It ran well towards evening when I went about in the conservatory culling - a basket of flowers for Peg. This I was wont to do each day, since the - blossoms went otherwise to waste; for the place was a mere lair and nest - of masculinity, with the General's niece gone home, and none about save - the General and myself—and I might add Earl, but he had no wit save - for canvas and colors, and no thought except from morning till night to - paint the General's portrait. The General and I were no mighty consumers - of nosegays; wherefore, as I've said, and to save the flowers from loss, I - was used each day to cut an armful of the best and bravest and send them - across to Peg's, where they would give her smile for smile and dare their - beauties against her own from every corner. - </p> - <p> - While I was roving right and left among the blossoms, the General came in - with long strides. There was a kind of angry hurry to him, and he carried - a letter in his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Here is something to make you curse your kind,” cried he. Then, seeing my - flowers: “How now! how now! and when was Mars a gardener and has the world - turned girl! These should be thin days and bloodless, when the starkest - saber that ever rode on my bridle hand—he whom the Creeks called the - 'Big Death'—loiters with woman's wares and learns to twine a posy.” - </p> - <p> - “They are for Peg,” said I, more nettled than I showed, for it struck me - he talked a deal about nothing at all. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, they are for Peg,” he repeated, his glance whimsical, yet narrow and - intent; “they are for Peg!” Then just as I was warming to the brink of - knowing what he would mean by that, he harked back suddenly to the letter - in his clutch. “Come with me. Here is a word from that very Reverend - Doctor Ely about your Peg, and we must concert steps to prove him the - false defamer that he is.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII—THE SECRETARY, SUAVE AS CREAM. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd now there comes - beneath my hand the hard portion of this history, the part which I most - mislike and bear with least of patience. It is the record written by the - smug, false Doctor Ely to the General, wherein with a particular past - bearing, he piled up his scarlet charges. There came a dozen counts, and - as if it were an indictment; and in them no slackness, but, instead, an - evil confidence of statement plain and clear, as one after another he cast - those stones at Peg. Nor shall his communication be set forth; I would not - so offend against the whiteness of Peg's name, nor yet harass my own - soul's roots by giving a line of it to types and presses. The more, since - it was all a web of lies which sly rogues wove for the shallow hand of - this Ely; and not enough of truth in it from top to bottom as should serve - to make it respectable falsehood. Sufficient that there were stories with - Washington and again New York as the theatres, and on these was based a - brazen demand that Eaton be dismissed the cabinet and Peg whipped from - among women wherever virtue had a name. - </p> - <p> - As the General read these things aloud I sat biting my nail in the flaming - impatience of my rage. - </p> - <p> - “And now what think you?” said he, when he was done. - </p> - <p> - “I think,” cried I, “that I shall ride at once for the caitiff ears of - him.” - </p> - <p> - The General, seeing my anger, turned to be mighty calm. It was a manner of - ours that when I was for a rage he would go the other way; I, on my side - and by way of requital, showed never so busy about methods for peace as - when the General was for sounding Boots and Saddles. So, beholding me - eating my fingers in a sort of blood-eagerness to come at the throat of - that Ely, the General would be for craft; and to demand proof; and to go - upon a litigation of the business among ourselves. - </p> - <p> - “And now you know,” said the General, with a bitterness in his mouth like - aloes, “why I fear preachers and your peace folk. Here is a false tissue - against a girl as white as an angel.” - </p> - <p> - “My soul for that!” I interjected. - </p> - <p> - “No one not of the cloth, and saved from men's vengeance by his coat and - ruffle, would so dare. But now this Ely throws these lies in our laps, and - we must sit tied.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I cried, “I see your meaning right well, and I would give my left - hand at the wrist joint could any gate be opened through which in honor I - might win to the miscreant's heart.” Now the General read the letter to - himself; now he knitted his forehead into a snarl and brooded while over - against him I sat fury-stung. - </p> - <p> - “Two matters we are to agree on,” said the General at last. “We are not to - tell Peg.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “Nor Eaton.” - </p> - <p> - Now, somehow, I in no fashion, not even the most shadowy, had had Eaton on - my slope of thought. It had seemed, in the confusion of wrath into which - this charge laid on poor Peg had stirred me, as though there were just - three folk in interest for our own side, being the General and Peg and - myself. The mention of Eaton struck on me in a strange, blistering way, - and was as much an iron in my soul as the slanders of that infamous Ely - himself. This came to be no more than a blur of my wits, however it - departed in a blink, and then a feeling somewhat of pleasure succeeded to - think Eaton would not be engaged in Peg's defence. - </p> - <p> - “Peg shall not know,” repeated the General, as he who goes over a manouvre - in his mind, “Eaton shall not know. You and I will be enough; and Noah; - and mayhap Henry Lee, since I think, Major, you are not the man to be - trusted with a reply. You—like myself.—would overflow too - much, since you own a feeling too deep.” - </p> - <p> - There was sense in what the General advanced; I was in an ill frame for - cunning, and to be cool of quill with any specious or refutatory - letter-writing. I could have indited nothing that would not run into a - challenge with the first line; and, with the pulpit character of the foe - to be our answer, that would have been as so much raving madness. - </p> - <p> - “Let us” said the General, again taking up the scrawl, “examine this - precious scorpion's nest in detail, and then we may know best how it - should be torn to pieces. This Ely does not make these charges by his own - knowledge, but declares how he believes in their truth on the word of some - 'extremely honest individual' of this town. This person would be so much - the viper he must needs hide and crawl under cover; for this Ely also says - 'who asks his name withheld.'” - </p> - <p> - By this time I had myself in recovery and began to take a part in the - thinking. - </p> - <p> - “First, then,” said I, “is there any accusation carried which you, - yourself, should contradict?” - </p> - <p> - “There are two,” returned the General. “This Ely has it that my dear wife - knew Peg's bad conduct and condemned her for it. That is false; my wife - spoke of Peg within a six-month; she loved her like her own child; and, I - well recall, she kissed Peg when last we left this place. Then, too, Ely - asserts how Timberlake was jealous of Eaton before he sailed for the - Mediterranean, hated him as Peg's tempter, and would have slain him. That, - also, I should know to be a lie; for here,” and the General crossed to a - shelf and took down a rich Turkish tobacco pouch, “is a tobacco pocket - which Timberlake sent to Eaton with a letter asking him to give it me when - I arrived; and the letter bore date not ten days before Timberlake died. - There remain but two great delinquencies alleged; the one here and the - other in New York; and both are capable of proof for either their truth or - falsity.” - </p> - <p> - “And how shall we go about that proof?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “As a primary step, then, let us have Noah with us.” - </p> - <p> - Noah came, and the General put the Ely letter into his dark, nervous - hands. - </p> - <p> - “The gentleman seems marvelously prompt,” said Noah, “to decide a woman's - fame away on barest hearsay. Doubtless he is a good Christian, but he - would make a bad judge.” - </p> - <p> - “This is what you will do, Noah, if you love me,” said the General: “Go to - Philadelphia. Squeeze from this Ely the name of that reptile on whose word - he starts about this crime against innocence. Then press to New York for - the evidence needed to display the falsehood he tells concerning Peg in - that place.” - </p> - <p> - When Noah had gone forth, the General called in Henry Lee, who was a - secret, truthworthy man, and, dictating while Lee did the pen work, - proceeded to beat the Reverend Ely and his lies as folk beat carpets. The - General, when it was done, dismissing Lee, read to me his answer; and I - could not so much as add one word. It was as complete a retort, and withal - as slashing an arraignment of this Ely for his own cruel part, as might be - compassed with paper and ink. I listened; and I never loved the General - half so well before. - </p> - <p> - “And yet,” observed the General, when he had closed the reading and the - letter lay ready for the post, “this Ely is but the mask for some rogue - who hides behind him.” - </p> - <p> - There was no more to do now, save wait for Noah's return. I had one ordeal - of the spirit, however; that was when Peg came next day. I so yearned over - her in pity, it marked itself in my face and she took some dim account of - it. She went away wrong in her hunting for a cause, however. - </p> - <p> - “What has been the mischance?” said Peg, getting up and standing behind my - chair with a soft hand on each of my shoulders. “You've had poor news from - your farms?” - </p> - <p> - “A horse dead,” I replied. This was so far true as a word that the letter - telling me thereof had but just arrived, and lay open on my table. “Only - that a favorite horse has died,” I replied. “But he was one of the - General's Truxton colts, and I but loth to lose him.” - </p> - <p> - It was a soon day thereafter, and we yet waiting for word of Noah, when - the General re-opened the affair of the Ely letter. - </p> - <p> - “The man Ely,” said he, thoughtfully, “has been practiced upon. The - Calhoun interest it was which stirred him to this. He would be clay easily - moulded for such a purpose, and peculiarly when the potters employed upon - him might promise somewhat for his ambition. As against Eaton and Peg, the - fellow would needs lack personal motive, since he knows them not at all. - He might find in his bosom, truly, a part willingness to disturb me, - because I broke the heart of his hope for a Florida exaltation. Yet even - with that to train his malignancy upon the Eatons, it is clear he must be - loaded, primed, and aimed by other hands. Thus do I make the story of it: - if Clay be out, as you declare, who is there save Calhoun to put this Ely - forward? Then, too, there is the coincidence of method. Ely does there - what the Calhoun folk do here.” - </p> - <p> - “Still,” I returned, for I believed in justice though to an enemy, and - would not condemn the Vice-President without some open sureness of proof; - “still, as Noah explained, these villainies might find act and parcel in - Calhoun's interests, and that gentleman be as innocent of personal part as - next year's babes.” - </p> - <p> - “Be that as it may,” retorted the General, “a man is responsible for his - dogs. Besides, it is too much to believe that Calhoun has no notice of - this war on the Eatons.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, as to that,” I replied, “I think there is scant doubt. An important - movement in his destinies is not to continue for long in the dark, to a - keen sight like Calhoun's. However, he might miss details.” - </p> - <p> - “He knows of these tales against Peg,” declared the General firmly, and as - though the question were solved and settled. “Also, by lifting his finger - he could end them in the mouths that give them words. When one can do a - thing and doesn't do it, that is because one doesn't want to do it, but - prefers things as they are. And there you have it. In the mean courses - against Peg your Vice-President is accessory. By the Eternal!” swore the - General abruptly, beginning to walk about the floor, “but such perfidy - makes me to loathe the man! I should hate all that comes from him, whether - of policy or plan. For where a source is foul, the stream will be - unclean.” - </p> - <p> - There was now to enter upon the stage one who wrought strongly for Peg's - defence. But he toiled better for himself, for at last he took the White - House by it; the General in a gust of kindness for what he did in Peg's - pure favor making him his heir of politics and laying the presidency in - his hands with the death of his own second term. This personage, to be so - much the ally of Peg, and so fortunate for his own future, was none other - than that Van Buren who resigned his Governorship and traveled the long - way from Albany to become the General's Secretary of State. - </p> - <p> - Heretofore I've made suggestion that the General's knowledge of Van Buren - was nothing deep, but only narrow and of a surface sort. More; the truth - was that now when the General stood in the midst of this Eaton trouble and - saw a long strife ahead, he was by no sense secure for the coming attitude - of his premier, and went doubt-pricked as to whether or no it would turn - to be a friendly one. I could discern some feather of these misgivings - when one evening over our pipes we dwelt on Marcy and Van Buren, these two - being topmost spirits of our party in their state. - </p> - <p> - Marcy was a bold man, and strong with a burly force; as frank and without - fear too, as a soldier, and less the hypocrite than any of his day. He had - yet to say, from his seat in the Senate, “The politicians of my state wear - no masks of superior goodness and make no pretences. They are content to - preach what they practice. If they be defeated, they expect to step down - and out; if they triumph, they look to enjoy the fruits of their victory. - They see no harm in the aphorism, 'To the victor belongs the spoil of the - enemy.'” Marcy, I say, had not yet uttered these words in the Senate; but - they dwelt with him as a sentiment; he had given them expression in Duff - Green's paper; and, since the General said nothing in negation, they were - held to declare the feelings of the administration. - </p> - <p> - Before this, I have written somewhere, have I not?—for old age can - not hold a memory, nor tell a lucid story step by step, but forever must - wander to the garrulous this-side-or-that, with topics alien to the task - in hand—how I caught some flash of the General's uncertainty of Van - Buren and the pose that gentleman would take on? It fell in this kind. I - had asked then a question about Van Buren, and how he compared with his - fellow captain, Marcy. The General shook uncertain head. - </p> - <p> - “Van Buren may surprise us,” said he, “and show me wrong besides; but this - is what I think. You are to bear in mind, also, that his selection to be - at my cabinet right hand was not personal but political. Here is how I - hold him.” Now the General spoke with a thoughtful, measured flow of - speech, as though his eye were turned to introspection, and he read, as - one reads a page of print, his estimate of him whom he sought to weigh. - “Van Buren is essentially furtive, lurking, cat-like. He delights in - moonlight politics and follows the byways. He avoids the eye, is seldom in - the show ring, and, in making his excursions, sticks to the lanes and - keeps off the highways. Few men see, and fewer know, Van Buren. He is sly - rather than bold; chicanes rather than assails; and when attacked he does - not fight in that strifish sense of hard knocks. He poisons the springs - and streams and standing water; and then he falls back into the hills. Van - Buren does with snares what others do by blows; traps while others hunt. - And yet, in a feline way, he likes trouble. Set out a bowl of milk and a - bowl of blood, and turn your back. If sure of unobservation, he will lap - the blood. But if you stare at him, he dissembles with the milk, purring - with fervor sedulous. Ever secret, Van Buren knows of no harder fate than - mere discovery. His points of power are his egotism, his skill for sly - effort, his talent as a trader of politics. Marcy is of another sort. - Marcy is vigorous where Van Buren is fine. If a band of music were to go - by, Marcy would regard the bass drum as the great instrument. Van Buren - would prefer the piccolo. Marcy does his war work with an axe. When any - homicide of politics enforces itself upon Van Buren he moves with sack and - bowstring. He waits until midnight, and then, with victim gagged and - bagged and bound, drowns him in the Bosphorus of party.” - </p> - <p> - Even as the General spoke, Van Buren was trudging up the street; for it - would appear that he had come into town the hour before, and now made - speed to pay his respects to the General. - </p> - <p> - While Van Buren was in talk with the General, our first greetings being - done, I strove to come by some true account of one who was like to make - for much weight in the scales. He was round, short, and by no means superb - or imposing. Standing between the General and myself, and both of us above - six feet, he seemed something stunted. There was a quiet twinkle in his - gray, intelligent eye that he drew from his tavern-keeping sire of - Kinderhook; the latter being of shrewd Dutch stock, born to count pennies - and to save them, and whose profits with his inn found partial coinage in - an education above bottles and taprooms for his son. There hovered an oily - peace about Van Buren; it showed on him like painted color. I was not - tremendously impressed of him, I grant you; albeit, before all was done, I - came to better learn him. The man, for a best simile, was like so much - quicksilver. Bright and of surprising weight, he rolled away from a touch - and never failed to fit himself scrupulously and plausibly into every - inequality which the surface he rested on presented. He came to be, as you - may think, precisely the man for the General; since, while the one was as - apt for heat as Sahara, and as much the home of hurricanes, the other - under no stress was ever known to give or take offence. He would be - without quills, this Van Buren, and yet no porcupine in his rattling armor - went about more perfect to his own defence or so equal for the problem of - his own security. - </p> - <p> - Van Buren made no lengthy stay with us; there was a hand-shake, a talk of - a moment, a bow, and he was back to his quarters in the Indian Queen. - </p> - <p> - “And what do you say of him?” asked the General, when now his new - secretary was gone. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sir,” I replied, “I should call your story of the man a good one. - But he does not look so strong as you would make him.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, then,” returned the General, “neither does any other thing of silk.” - Then, after a pause: “Just as an insinuation is stronger than a direct - charge, so is Van Buren stronger than other men. I warrant you, as we - stand here with all our wisdom, he holds our measures more nearly than we - hold his.” - </p> - <p> - The General, you are to observe, and whether early or late, never said a - word to Van Buren of Peg and the villain forays against her fame; the - General was too proud for that. The defence of Peg seemed a thing personal - to his heart; with him it owned no place in politics or the business of - the state. Therefore, he would ask no man's aid, and folk on that quarrel - might be neutral or pick their sides and go what ways they would. - </p> - <p> - The General, I say, beheld nothing of politics in the question of his - defence of Peg; it was wholly the thing personal. He never realized, what - is clear to you and me, that everything was the thing personal with him, - and politics a thing most personal of all. Even now, since he had found - the Palmetto coterie to be among his enemies, and within short weeks of - the birth of his first rancor against Calhoun as one who had sought to do - him hidden harm while apeing friendship and aiming at his betrayal with a - kiss, he had commenced to nourish a steady wrath against that statesman's - policies of Secession and States Rights. This latter he was cultivating - and feeding in all possible fashion. - </p> - <p> - One day I came upon him deep within Marshall's definitions of treason as - declared in the trial of Aaron Burr. - </p> - <p> - “There's the law for you,” he cried, with a note of exultation in his - tone, and thrusting the book at me with one hand while with the other he - marked the place; “there's the law of treason so laid down that a - wayfaring man though a fool should not err therein. I shall get it pat to - my tongue; I may yet teach it to our Secessionists with a gibbet.” - </p> - <p> - I put this down to show the climbing of the General's anger against - Calhoun; and how it began to spread and feel about to assail the - Vice-President in his acts and plans and sentiments and hopes. It was, as - he said aforetime, “We would foil the villain and save our pretty Peg.” - </p> - <p> - You may rest sure I made no argument against his law studies; indeed, I - think treason a crime which the White House can not understand too well - nor hate too thoroughly, and I never thought so more than in those far - days when the General read Marshall and we carried forward our fight for - lovely Peg. - </p> - <p> - While the General spoke no word of the Eatons and their injuries to Van - Buren, the latter for a certainty was not long in town before he thereon - held converse with himself. I would be made wise of this by his coming to - me—it was our second encounter—and, with a manner suave as - cream, asking what to my thought would be a time fitting, and to the lady - convenient, for him to call upon our Peg. - </p> - <p> - “For you must know,” said he, spreading out his smooth hands and regarding - the backs of them, being, I think, a trick of his to cover an inability to - look one between the eyes, “for you must know, sir, since my wife died, - and with no daughter in my house to teach me, my society learning has gone - excessively to seed.” - </p> - <p> - It became my turn to say that society, I was told—for I carried no - personal knowledge thereof, having little genius for it—ran now to - broken ends and fragments, and would continue so throughout the year. The - social season, by word of such experienced parlor scouts as Pigeon-breast, - would not begin until New Year's Day. - </p> - <p> - “However,” said I, in finale, “you may take it from me that the Eatons - will be blithe to receive you on any evening you should care to call. - There need be no formality; you may pull their latch-string at any hour - with every assurance of a welcome.” - </p> - <p> - “Can not you take me there this evening?” he asked, with a kind of - enthusiasm. - </p> - <p> - “I am only too pleased to be of service.” - </p> - <p> - The fair truth is I could have hugged the little secretary from gladness - for Peg. - </p> - <p> - That same night, when later I paid my usual visit to the General for a - friendly pipe and to finish the day in smoke before we went to bed, I told - him of Van Buren's waiting on Peg. The pleasure the news gave him fell - across his face like sunlight. But he carried himself in ordinary fashion. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sir,” said he, “I'm glad that he has been to see the Eatons. Still, - no less could have been looked for from a gentleman.” - </p> - <p> - “But he did better,” I said. “Never have I heard more delicate compliment - than he offered to Peg. He says she shall preside at his house for those - functions which belong with his position.” - </p> - <p> - “And that, since he has no wife, will be a vast convenience for him,” - responded the General; “this pouring of his guests' tea by our beautiful - Peg.” - </p> - <p> - The General would accept it as a matter of course, but I tell you the - tidings of that tea-pouring warmed the cockles of his heart. For myself, I - made no effort to hide my satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - “Is it not a strange thing,” said the General, after a bit, “how one's - first impression will go astray? Who could be more true, or more wise, or - better bred or founded in whatever makes for the best in a man, than our - Van Buren? And yet I thought him sly, and with a hand for selfish design. - The man's as simple as a child!” - </p> - <p> - “He tells me,” I remarked, “that your friend Hoyt of this region warned - him you did not like him, and how your great favorite was Calhoun.” - </p> - <p> - “Hoyt is a presumptuous fool,” returned the General, hotly. “I would not - give Van Buren's finger for Calhoun. Why should he be favorite of mine who - foments treason, and schemes to split the nation like a billet of wood!” - </p> - <p> - Peg was with me betimes next morning to jubilate with dancing pulses over - Van Buren to her house the night before. - </p> - <p> - “For can't you see,” she cried, her cheeks red with the excitement that - crowed in her breast, “what a strategic point, as you sons of war would - term it,”—Peg was laughing here—“is your little, round, smooth - Secretary of State? He carries the grand legation folk in his wake. With - them, all ribbons and orders, and the army—for the latter will be - bound to us since we are the war department—our receptions should be - a blaze of glory and gold braid.” - </p> - <p> - Here Peg clapped her hands with the glee of it. It was an inspiration to - see her so gay. - </p> - <p> - “I am overcome of delight,” I said, mocking gravity, “to know that we are - like to gain so much of ornamentation.” Then, changing my tone: “But of a - truth, my little one, I shall forever love our State Secretary for your - sweet sake.” - </p> - <p> - “You brought him,” cried Peg. “What a watch-dog you are to me!” This with - sudden warmth. “That is the word, a watch-dog—a faithful watch-dog - with a great sleepless heart guarding its Peg! And you shall have a - collar.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0226.jpg" alt="0226 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0226.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - With that, since I was sitting in my chair and so within her reach, the - minx crept up and threw her arms about my neck. It was simply play—the - exuberance of a born tomboy. And yet I was glad we were alone and no - General about, else I would have lived long ere I had heard the last of - it. The situation would have fitted like a glove with the General's bent - of humor, and I should not have cared for his raillery. - </p> - <p> - Peg clung to my neck like a rose to an oak while I tried softly to loosen - her arms. I could not make head against her for fear of hurting her. - </p> - <p> - “How do you like your collar, watchdog?” she cried, with a chuckle. “And - now the buckle—how do you like that?” Here she laid her velvet cheek - against my face. “So, watch-dog, you would slip your collar?” This, - banteringly. “There; you are free.” And Peg unlocked her arms and stood - back smiling, her small, white leopard teeth just showing, and her eyes - like diamonds. Then donning a satiric air: “Sir, you call yourself a - gentleman and a politician. You should know, then, there be two honors no - man may decline; the one is a presidency and the other is a—lady.” - </p> - <p> - With this smartness on her lips Peg broke into downright merriment. The - little witch was never so charming! - </p> - <p> - That evening I was sitting alone with the General; each of us silent and - within himself, wrapping his own fancies about him like a cloak. I know - not on what uplands of conjecture the General's thoughts were grazing; for - myself, I was dwelling on Peg, for I could still feel that soft, warm - collar of her two arms clasping my neck. - </p> - <p> - It is trenching on the wondrous, too, how the sweet image of a woman will - train one's soul for war. No sooner would I take Peg upon the back of my - meditations, than they straightway went plunging off to her enemies, and - to tire themselves with vain circlings of how best to refute the malice of - her foes and return upon their wicked heads the most of cruelty. Commonly - I might be held as one not beyond touch of mercy, and indeed I have spared - a painted Creek when he stood helpless. But I doubt me if Peg's foes, when - by some sleight of fate they had fallen within my power, would have found - a least loophole of relief. Of a verity! I think I might have looked long - on their writhings ere my heart was touched or my hands raised to stay - their tortures. - </p> - <p> - While I sat in this blood-mood, and shedding in imagination the lives of - ones who would persecute our innocent, my glance was caught by the - General's pistols lying near by on a table. They were of that long, - duelling breed belonging with the times, and the General kept them as - bright and new as he kept his honor. - </p> - <p> - “And why are those on parade?” I asked, pointing to the weapons. - </p> - <p> - “It is the day of the year,” said the General, and his steady voice was - low, “whereon I killed Dickenson. This is the one I used,” and he - stretched his long arm and offered it for my inspection. It had a ribbon - of black about the butt. “That is not for Dickenson,” he explained; “it is - for her.” Here he indicated that miniature of his wife from which he would - never be parted, where it rested on the mantel and looked down upon us - with the painted eyes. - </p> - <p> - “You speak in a queer way,” I said; “do you regret killing the man?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” he returned, half sadly; “I do not regret killing him.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me of it,” I urged. “I was not about, and Overton went with you to - the field.” - </p> - <p> - The General never named his fight with Dickenson to others, but I was sure - he would tell the tale to me. In good truth, I had not asked for it, save - that, knowing him far better than I knew myself, I saw what was in his - manner to make me believe he would be the lighter after the relation. - </p> - <p> - “Dickenson,” said the General, making no flourish of talk in explanation - of a readiness to describe adventures which some folk for the red ending - might have shrunk from; “Dickenson was the tool of a conspiracy made - against my life, and politics was at the bottom of it. I was too popular; - I was in the way; the grave was a place for me; thus argued my enemies. - And then they went about to draw in Dickenson to be their cat's-paw. - </p> - <p> - “Dickenson was young and vain, and withal willingly cruel enough to act as - my murderer for the illustration it would bring. He counted himself safe, - since he was reckoned the surest, quickest hand in all the world. The man - could shoot from the hip like a flash, and as accurately as one might put - one's finger. - </p> - <p> - “Once the plan was laid, Dickenson took a sure course; he spoke evil of my - wife.” Here the General picked up the two pistols, a butt in either hand, - and looked first upon the one and then upon its fellow. “Following my - marriage, with every dollar I owned, I bought these pistols. They are - hair-triggers and a breath unhooks them. Also, they are sighted to shoot - as fine and as true as the moral law. I gave to their purchase my last - dollar, and devoted them to the destruction of what scoundrels should - vilify my wife. They have done their work and never failed me. - </p> - <p> - “Overton was to act my second, and we would fight in Kentucky, sixty miles - away. All day we traveled; the Dickenson party preceded us over the same - trail. At every squatter's cabin the inmates would call us to the wizard - work of Dickenson. Here he shot the head from a fowl; there he cut the - string by which a gourd was hanging; now he drove a nail at twenty paces. - It was a trick to shake my nerve. - </p> - <p> - “We would fight in the early morning, each standing to a peg twelve paces - apart. Overton won the word and the pistols. I was dressed in a black - coat, loose and long, and with no white to show at the throat and coax a - bullet. We were given our places, I to my joy with my favorite pistol. - </p> - <p> - “It was conceded by Overton and myself, as we went up and down the - business in advance, that Dickenson would kill me. Our hope was that I'd - last long enough to kill him—he, the defamer of my wife! - </p> - <p> - “The thought on our side was for me to brace myself and take Dickenson's - fire. I could not rival him for quickness or for sureness. And the haste - of an attempt would waste and throw away my aim. - </p> - <p> - “We were put up, I say; the words were to be 'Fire—one—two—three—stop!' - We might fire at any moment between 'Fire!' and 'Stop!' And Overton had - the word. As I took my place I slipped a bullet into my mouth. I would set - my teeth on it to steady my hand. - </p> - <p> - “Overton cried the word and began the count. With the word 'Fire!' - Dickenson's weapon flashed. I heard the roar of it, and felt the numb, - dull shock as the lead crashed into my side. But I sustained myself. I was - held on my feet by hate. I thought he had slain me, but with him out of - hell I would not rest in my grave. - </p> - <p> - “When I did not fall, but stood firm, Dickenson started back. - </p> - <p> - “'My God, I have missed him!' he cried. - </p> - <p> - “'Step to your peg, sir,' roared Overton, pausing in his count and cocking - a pistol; 'step to your peg, or I'll blow your head from your body!' - </p> - <p> - “Dickenson stood again to his peg and turned his eyes from me; his face - was the color of tobacco ashes. - </p> - <p> - “Overton resumed his count. 'One!' 'Click!'” My pistol caught at - half-cock. Overton paused and I re-cocked my pistol; Dickenson white and - firm to his peg—a man who had played his life away. - </p> - <p> - “'Two!' cried Overton. - </p> - <p> - “My pistol responded; the lead tore its way through the midst of - Dickenson's body. He crippled slowly down on one knee; and then he fell - along on his face, and next turned over on his back with a sort of - twitching jerk. I never took my eyes from him.” - </p> - <p> - “And your wound,” said I, “was a serious one, I well know that.” - </p> - <p> - “My ribs were broken, while my boot was clogged with the blood which ran - down beneath my garments. The bullet I placed between my teeth was crushed - as flat as a two-bit piece.” - </p> - <p> - “It was hardy work,” said I, “bearing up and firing on the heels of such a - wound.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, I was thinking on her”—glancing at the miniature. “I should - have killed that man though he had put his bullet through my heart.” - </p> - <p> - Here the General turned his face towards me; his eyes were shining with - the lambent orange glow one sees in the panther's eyes at night. - </p> - <p> - There was silence, I still looking on the General. His nervous face was - twitching. Then the frown on his forehead gave way to quiet sadness. - Rising, he stood by the mantel and gazed for long, and tenderly, on the - miniature of his dead dear one. - </p> - <p> - “I have had many titles,” said he, and he spoke whisperingly and as though - talking with the picture; “I have had many titles, and the greatest was - the one 'her husband.' I have had honors;—I stand the chief of the - greatest nation in the greatest age the world has witnessed; and I would - give all to hold her hand one moment. They say there is a heaven above us. - It will be no heaven unless I meet her there.” - </p> - <p> - Now while I was in warmest sympathy with the General, his talk would seem - to fill me up with darkness. Also, I could feel the two hot arms of Peg - burning my neck. That story, too, of the Dickenson fight may be supposed - to have set in my nature that animal which lairs within each of us, - somewhat on truculent edge. Abruptly I burst forth: - </p> - <p> - “And it is a surprising thing,” cried I—ripping out an oath, the - last not common with me—“how Eaton abides Peg's wrongs. He should - have killed a man or two by now.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” returned the General, coming from his reverie with a kind of snap, - “sir, no man since Catron has been known to speak a word. Besides, my - cabinet men can not go trooping off for Blandensburg at any price. It is - one of the drawbacks to a high position of state that it chops one's hands - off at the elbow; duels are no longer a question.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not see it thus,” I retorted viciously. “You do not? Look on Aaron - Burr—deserted and old and poor, and dying in New York. He came down - from his vice-presidency to slay one who had maligned him for years. And - there is his reward.” - </p> - <p> - “What do I care for that?” cried I. “If it were for Peg, I should leave a - throne and perish poor, despised and all alone, but I would strangle the - throat that spoke her wrong.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! if it were Peg!” And the General, now alert and wholly of this world, - gave me that narrow intent glance I resented among the flowers. - </p> - <p> - What might have been uttered next was cut short by a messenger on the - door. He brought word from Noah; he had just come to town, and since it - was turned late he would defer his call until the morning. - </p> - <p> - “Let's have him with us now,” cried the General, briskly. “I shall not - sleep for hours; and you, I take it, will stay awake in such a cause?” - </p> - <p> - “I would stand sleepless guard for weeks if it were to defend Peg,” said - I. - </p> - <p> - “Think now and then, my friend, for your own defence.” The General said - this with a look both quizzical and grave. Then, without pausing: “Write - Noah a note in my name.” While I scribbled he walked to and fro. “I must - ever ask you to write for me, since I am so unfortunate as to deny a - proverb and be one whose sword was ever mightier than his pen.” - </p> - <p> - In the hall I discovered Jim, and told him to depart with our message to - the Indian Queen. - </p> - <p> - “'Course I'll nacherally go, Marse Major,” said Jim, “but I was jes' - waitin' to see you-all, an' ask how soon you reckons we'll go caperin' - back to Tennessee.” - </p> - <p> - “Why,” I demanded, “what has made you so soon homesick?” - </p> - <p> - “It aint that, Marse Major,” and Jim gave to his words a melancholy whine, - “but we-all can't stand d'pace yere. For a week Jim was as happy an' - chirpy as a drunkard at a barbecue. But since you locks that closet do', - Jim's sort o' been obleeged to buy whiskey for himse'f; an' what you - think? They charge Jim five cents a drink for whiskey that don't cost two - bits a gallon all along d'Cumberland! They's shorely robbers; an' they - jes' nacherally takes Jim's money off him so fas' he cotch cold.” - </p> - <p> - “Go on, you rogue!” said I. “Here is a Mexican dollar to bolster your - finances. We're not yet bankrupt, Jim.” - </p> - <p> - Noah came to us spattered of travel, and with the high riding-boots he - wore on the road. I took a deal of pleasure for a buoyancy I observed in - him, since I read it as a sign of whitest promise. Nor was I to be cast - down from that hope. - </p> - <p> - “You are to know,” said Noah, turning to the General, “that I was two days - before your letter with the Reverend Ely. In the first of our - conversations he held his head loftily; in the end, he came something - under control. Your letter much dismayed him, and after that his courage - ran very thin indeed. Now he quite agrees he knew nothing, and was wrong - and false in all he wrote. I dragged him to New York with me. I have Mrs. - Eaton's innocence here, in these papers.” Noah laid a sealed package by - the General's elbow. They were from the Reverend Ely, as well as from the - folk of the hotel wherein that Ely said Peg lodged. “They are oath-made; - they prove Mrs. Eaton chaste as snow.” - </p> - <p> - “And how did you make conquest of this Ely?” questioned the General, his - eye gratified and spirit a mate for Noah's. - </p> - <p> - “The power of the press, I should call it,” laughed Noah. “The ignoble Ely - hath a mighty distaste of unfriendly ink. And I'm an editor. That was it,” - went on Noah; “I showed him what might be done. He should stand in the - pillory of my types for the reasonless defamer he was. Then the dog - trembled and came my way with meekness, asking what he should do. I - answered much like the monks with the wild Clovis, 'Bend thy neck, proud - Sicambrian; adore what thou hast burned, burn what thou hast adored!' In - short, I demanded a letter of retractory amends to the President; and also - that he name his fellow reptile, whose infamous word he claimed for the - truth of his scurrility.” - </p> - <p> - “And who is he?” demanded the General, as warm as ever I saw him. - </p> - <p> - By some virtue of telepathic sort, I read the answer before Noah uttered - it. And why had I not guessed before! The secret one so falsely in the ear - of the shallow Ely was none other than the unctious Reverend Campbell. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII—THE MAD CAPRICIOUS PEG - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ext morning the - sun had not climbed over-high when the Reverend Campbell, head down and - secret eye aslant, came shuffling to call upon the General. I caught the - black shadow of him—for all the world like the shadow of some - vulture to sail between one and the sun—as the drooping, furtive - creature sidled through the hall. The General had sent for him, for the - General was not one to let the grass grow deep between resolve and action. - </p> - <p> - “I will see the man alone, Major,” observed the General; “he might - complain, were you present, of a situation offering two against one and - planned to over-ride him.” - </p> - <p> - Such management was much to my appetite, since it would but serve to boil - my anger—this listening while the Reverend Rogue laid out his pack - of calumnies upon Peg. In good truth! I much misdoubt if I had withstood - my hands from him when under such honest provocation; and that, maugre his - black surtout and pulpit snuffle. - </p> - <p> - And yet it did not miss me as a feature hard to be read for its - significance, that now was the earliest time when the General had shown - himself so equitable as to think on “two against one” and fail to ask my - presence for his conferences. He had met folk for war and peace, and they - had come alone; I had been there, and no one spoke of over-riding. - However, the subject was not worth quizzing one's self concerning; the - Reverend Campbell was come, the best thing about it being that the General - lived ample and to spare to arrest whatever of slander he should bring us - in his mouth, and put it to the death. The General could track a lie as - surely as ever he tracked Creek, and lived even more inveterately its - enemy. - </p> - <p> - Peg met the Reverend Campbell almost in the great front door, for she was - on her usual journey to consult with me about some trifling nothing. When - his sidelong glance encountered Peg's, the rascal cowered and seemed to - turn more mean, if that were possible, than by nature belonged with him. - But he said no word; he did not so much as muster against her one square - look, but sinuously, and as a snake might, writhed himself out of her path - Peg, for herself, swept him with a chill, errant eye as if he were some - gutter-being, offensive though unknown. - </p> - <p> - “And what brings that bird of mal-omen to flutter about one's door?—so - bright a morning, too!” This was Peg's question on the Reverend Campbell - as she walked in to me and climbed to her customary chair at the left hand - of my desk. “What should you say, watch-dog, was his bad mission? Is he a - threat? Does he drag a danger after him? You must be alert if you would - make safe your little Peg.” - </p> - <p> - The tone of raillery which Peg adopted secured me; she had no surmise, - then, to the purpose of the Reverend Campbell. - </p> - <p> - “It's quite sure,” I returned, evasively, “that our swart visitor would be - much uplifted were the General to relent and dispose of Florida according - to his wish.” - </p> - <p> - And now while Peg sits before the mirror of my memory with her sweet face, - as she on that far morning sat in the great leathern chair, let me please - my fond pencil with a word of her. There were so many expressions of the - unexpected to our Peg—for so I had grown to call her—one must - needs be describing and redescribing her with each new page one turns. A - born enchantress and a witch full-blown besides! it is the mere truth that - Peg bore upon me like a spell. - </p> - <p> - There was never woman to be Peg's marrow for flash and spirit, and beyond - all to creep so tenderly near to one. And for a crown to that, she was as - wise as the serpent. There were moments when Socrates himself might have - listened to her and not lost his time. - </p> - <p> - And she could shift color like a chameleon. Behold her on some day of - social parade, or where she meets strangers or half acquaintances, and she - will be older by fifteen years than now when she plants her small self in - that armchair, and makes me turn my writing downward to talk with her. - Tender, wilful, pliant, wise, patient, petulant, true, uncertain, sure, - confiding and confusing, she offered contradictions equal with the - General. I would exhaust the roll-call of the adjectives were I wholly to - set forth this child-woman in the last of her frank arts and sage - simplicities. - </p> - <p> - Peg wore as many moods as a lake on a flawy day and where skies are - scud-swept. Now, with a cloud across the sun, she would be dull and sad as - lead. Then, with a gust of wind, she would wrinkle into waves of temper. - And next there would dawn a tranquil moment when, calm and clear and deep - and sweet, she shone on one like burnished silver. - </p> - <p> - Once, I recall, she sat in her big chair, steeped in a way of pensive - wordlessness. I had not heard her voice for an hour; nor she mine, for I - was fallen behind in my letters, and politics and president-making are - mighty gluttons of ink. Suddenly she broke in: - </p> - <p> - “Why are you so good to me—so much more than any other?” - </p> - <p> - “How should one fail of sympathy,” said I, giving my manner a light turn, - “for another so innocent and so ill-used?” - </p> - <p> - “And it's just sympathy—all sympathy?” demanded Peg, resting her - round chin in her little shell of a palm. “Nothing but sympathy?” - </p> - <p> - “What else should it be?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know,” said Peg, shortly. Then she walked slowly across the room - and studied a picture. In a moment she gave a word to me over her - shoulder: “I may tell you this, Mr. Questioner. There is but one question - a man should put to a woman.” - </p> - <p> - Smiling on her jaunty petulances, I went forward with my writing; she to - pulling out the slides of a cabinet. This apartment, I should tell you, - was my private workshop of politics wherein I repaired and extended the - destinies of the General, and transacted his fame for him. There were a - world of history and one president—and say the least of it—constructed - in that room. - </p> - <p> - Peg came presently to my elbow, bringing a trinket of coral. It had been - my sister's, and was my mother's before that. - </p> - <p> - “Is it worth much money?” asked Peg. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing at all,” I returned. - </p> - <p> - “And yet you value it highly?” - </p> - <p> - “Very highly.” - </p> - <p> - “May I have it?” - </p> - <p> - It seemed shame to hesitate, and yet I did, while Peg stood with wistful - face. - </p> - <p> - “Why,” said I at last, “I meant it for the one I should love.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you meant it for her whom you would love! And do you look to see it - again after that? The coral is mine from this moment.” - </p> - <p> - With a swish of her skirts Peg was gone; and with her went the coral. - </p> - <p> - Peg betimes would lay out her campaign for the coming winter. It was then - she talked of Van Buren, “the good little secretary,” as Peg named him. - Van Buren went often to the Eatons; and on each of those kind excursions - he climbed ever higher with the General and with me. - </p> - <p> - “Not only,” said Peg, assuming a wise pucker of the brow as she recounted - how she should wage and win her social war, “not only shall I preside for - our good little secretary at dinners and receptions, but he has brought to - me the Viscount Vaughn, who is minister for the English, and Baron - Krudener, who is here, as you know, for the Russians; and they, since they - own no wives to help them, also have besought me to be at the head of - their legation functions. And with the White House back of all, what then - will Mrs. Calhoun and her followers do! Watch-dog we have them routed!” - Here Peg's rich laugh would ring out for victory on its way. - </p> - <p> - Peg, on another day, would shake her head with soft solemnity. - </p> - <p> - “I do so wish some one watched over me.” Peg spoke in contemplative - earnestness. “If I could find a fault in a best of husbands, it must be - that he doesn't watch over me.” - </p> - <p> - “What idleness now claims your tongue?” said I, impatiently. “Was ever - such nonsense uttered! And the wives should all turn ospreys, too, I take - it, and haunt the upper air to watch their husbands?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” returned Peg, demurely reading the carpet, “no; a wife should never - watch her husband. What should you think of her who, dwelling in a garden—a - measureless garden of roses—went ever about with petticoats tucked - up, stick in hand, questing for some serpent? Who is she, to be so daft as - to refuse the fragrance of a thousand blossoms to find one serpent and be - stung by it?” Peg crowed high and long, deeming herself a princess of - chop-logic. “But a man should watch a woman,” she concluded; “the woman - wants him to.” - </p> - <p> - “And why?” said I, becoming curious. - </p> - <p> - “Because she likes to feel herself tethered by his vigilance.” - </p> - <p> - “But why?” I insisted. “Is not freedom dear to a woman?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but love is more dear. See what she gains when she barters only a - little freedom for a world of love.” - </p> - <p> - “I had not thought a woman set such store by jealousy—the green eye - turned against herself.” - </p> - <p> - “Jealousy—a man's jealousy is but the counterpart of his love.” Peg - lifted her clever head oracularly. “And, watch-dog, that reminds me”—here - she admonished me with upraised finger—“you are jealous of me! Yes - you are; you are jealous of my husband.” - </p> - <p> - “You are a confusing form of little girl!” I said, laughing in my turn; - “and most confusing when you jest.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; when I jest.” This in a way of funny dryness. “Especially, when I - jest. Still, you are jealous; you watch me all the time. Do not look - frightened; I do not object to jealousy.” Peg finished in a mirthful - ripple. - </p> - <p> - “I would not see you walk into harm,” said I, meekly. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps I was thus meek because the small hectorer would stir up confusion - in my bosom; and she, cool, assured, mistress of situations it was her - merry humor to create. - </p> - <p> - “You would not see me walk into harm,” she repeated. “But you are jealous - of my husband. Is my husband 'harm?'” - </p> - <p> - “Do you not complain for that he does not watch you?” - </p> - <p> - This I said desperately. It is not a hand's-breadth behind a miracle how a - girl—and you a steady man of years, and twice her age—will - wrap you in perplexities like a parcel. It was so with me; the witch would - wind and unwind me as though I were a ball of knitting-yarn! She would - darn and patch her laughter with me! - </p> - <p> - “Watch-dog,” said Peg, severely, “watchdog, you know you are jealous! And - how long do you count it since I told you that jealously was but love - turned upside down?” This came off trippingly, and with superior wave of - wrist, as settling a thing beyond debate. Then with a tinge of tenderness: - “Watch-dog, being so trusted, what would you do for me?” - </p> - <p> - “I would be a slave for you,” said I, simply enough, “if it were to do you - good.” - </p> - <p> - “Qualification,” cried she, with a vicious stamp of her foot, “always - qualification!” Then mimicking me: “'If it were to do me good.' Good!—good!—what - a desert of weariness in four letters! If I were to discover some unnamed - desolation, some barren waste, one arid, gray, dry, dead—especially - dead—I'd turn geographer and call it 'Good.'” - </p> - <p> - Peg was quiet after this upheaval, which was with it all but a surface - impatience and nothing deep, and uttering never a word, gazed over against - the wall. On my side, I made no return; for I was grown used to her whims, - and knew they were not to be argued with. And most fatal of all was - agreement. A best course would be to reply nothing, whether of denial or - comment or endorsement, but let Peg talk her talk out unrestrained. - </p> - <p> - However, catching the fashion of her with the fringe of my eye as I went - for more ink on my pen, and observing her face to seem over sad and - considerate, I spoke up to cheer her. - </p> - <p> - “And now what are your thoughts?” said I. - </p> - <p> - “I was just wanting to be a man, that's all.” And Peg stared straight - ahead as though in a muse. Then starting up, and with a rush of vivacity: - “Heigh ho! and now if I were, I'll wager I'd be as dull as the others—as - dull as you, watch-dog.” Then, changing the tune of it, but keeping to her - dash and fling: “So you would be my slave! Come, let me mark you for my - slave!” - </p> - <p> - Without warning, she seized my hand, and with her sharp leopard teeth bit - until the blood flowed. Then surveying her work, she kissed the pin-prick - of a wound with unction. When she raised her face, there was a trickle of - blood on her lip and chin. - </p> - <p> - Walking to a mirror with a careless, flinging step, Peg glanced her face - over, and I thought with relish. - </p> - <p> - “See if there do not come a pretty white mark when it heals.” This she - told me in an arch manner, and with chin on shoulder, and the fleck of - blood on her chin. “Now if I but dared,” she went on, returning to the - glass, “I would wear that blood always and never wash it away. But the - world! the world!—ah, the world! One must wash one's face for the - world although one owes the world nothing.” - </p> - <p> - Peg, now in a climax of bubbling spirits, and pouring a spoonful of water - on her handkerchief, washed off the spots of red, transferring them to her - tiny square of cambric. This she contemplated with a sort of surprised - delight, as tendering a new idea. - </p> - <p> - “I need never wash that, at any rate,” said she. Then with her glancing - eyes on me: “You will wear my mark now;—Peg's mark for her slave!—who - would do her good.” - </p> - <p> - The next moment she went singing across the lawn for her home, leaving me - to think on the caprices of our radiant, reckless, blooming, madcap Peg. - All this by the way, however; now to return to our day of the Reverend - Campbell's call upon the General. - </p> - <p> - Peg was still curled in her big armchair when, following his interview - with the General, the Reverend Campbell left the mansion. It was she who - told his departure to me where I wrought at my desk. Peg caught a flutter - of him through the large window. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” cried Peg, “there goes our Reverend Raven.” - </p> - <p> - Looking up from where I worked, I beheld the Reverend Campbell making - speed out of the grounds. In such hurry was he that he left the walk of - gravel, and to save a corner would cut across the grass. The black-foot - creature slouched away for all mankind like unto some henroost fox of the - night whom daylight had surprised and who now went skulking for the - comforting safe darkness of his burrow. - </p> - <p> - “It is wonder,” said Peg, “what could induce the good General to tolerate - the presence of our Reverend Raven for so long. What should be the - interest in his croakings?” - </p> - <p> - As Peg spoke, the General's gaunt form appeared in the door. He was more - than half warm with an angry excitement. Without pause or first words of - greeting, he addressed himself to Peg. - </p> - <p> - “Child, where was Timberlake two years ago this summer?—where was he - in June?” - </p> - <p> - “Here in Washington,” returned Peg, her eyes full of wonder, as she - scanned the face of the General in quest of a clue to his sharp, unusual - curiosity. “He stayed here idle for four years before he last sailed. He - was seeking to adjust his accounts as purser for the frigate <i>President</i>. - His books were lost when the English captured the ship. It was that to - make all the trouble; the red-tape of the navy office detained him here - four years before it would accept his accounts. It was during that period - we were wed.” Peg's voice, brisk at the start, fell sorrowfully away - towards the end. - </p> - <p> - “Then he was here in June two summers ago,” said the General, “and for - three years prior and almost one year after that time?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Peg. - </p> - <p> - “Now there!” cried the General, with a mixture of wrath and disgust; “see - what bald and easily confuted falsehood a fool moved of low malice will - tell! I could believe at times, when I'm brought face to face with such - mendacious simplicity, that liars are denied powers of reflection.” - </p> - <p> - “What is it all about?” asked Peg. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing, child, nothing,” returned the General. “Now run away home; I - want a word with your big playmate here.” Then in a softer manner: “No, - child, the Major and I are trying to do you a service, and please God! I - think we shall accomplish it.” - </p> - <p> - The whole kind attitude of the General towards Peg seemed ever that of a - father, and he was used to call her to him or dismiss her with no shade of - rudeness, truly, and yet with no more of ceremonies than an affectionate - parent might adopt. Peg never grudged obedience, and received the - General's word as readily, and was withal as free of affront at any - suddenness, as should be a daughter who feels her place assured. - </p> - <p> - When Peg was off for home, the General came and sat in the chair she had - vacated. - </p> - <p> - With the white thick brush of his end-wise hair, and the fierce eyes of - him, he made a portrait wide apart from that tender one the great chair so - lately framed. - </p> - <p> - “You are not to know,” quoth the General, without halting for my question, - “the whole foul story this creature has told me. It is bad enough that I - was made to give ear to it. The point lies here: If Timberlake were with - Peg in June two years ago, and for a year before, this miserable tale - falls to the ground as false. He makes its main element to depend upon - Timberlake's absence—his charge of iniquity against Peg holds only - by that. The Reverend Serpent's hinge to swing his vilification on is the - absence of Timberlake. And you heard her declare how Timberlake was here.” - </p> - <p> - “Does this snake, as you rightly term him, give you his story as of a - knowledge of his own?” - </p> - <p> - “No; he hides behind the words of two women; a mother and daughter, named - Craven. They pretend to base their slanders on what they allege was told - them by the husband and father, a Doctor Craven—dead, he is, these - ten months.” - </p> - <p> - “And that is mighty convenient,” said I, “for the Reverend Campbell and - his fellow ophidians—this retreat to the word of one who dwells dead - and dumb beneath six feet of earth.” - </p> - <p> - “That is their coward strategy,” commented the General, furiously. - “However, my thought is to ask Noah to visit these women and question them - before the Reverend Campbell collects the wit to tell of his talk with me. - I may have alarmed the man, for I was now and then not altogether calm.” - </p> - <p> - I was driven to smile at this; so much concession of a want of calmness on - the General's part would mean that he had fumed up and down like a tiger. - The scuttling eagerness of the Reverend Campbell to be clear of the place - was not without a cause. There beat some reason in his heels. - </p> - <p> - “I asked him,” said the General, “why he did not tell this story in the - beginning. He explained that he hesitated to approach me with it; he - related it to Doctor Ely, who pretended to close terms with me. Then I - demanded why this Ely had not told me by word of mouth? Why should he - leave with that lie in his stomach, and then write it and send it by post? - He said that when it came to the test, Doctor Ely was afraid of me. Fear, - fear, that was the assassin excuse of him, and the reason for striking at - a woman in the dark! Why, I would not believe the sun was shining on the - words of such coward rogues!” - </p> - <p> - It was settled that I should make company for Noah when he saw the - Cravens. - </p> - <p> - “But don't interfere for a word, Major,” exhorted the General, with a - world of earnestness. “You do right well when the quarry is a bear or the - enemy no more subtile than an Indian. But now the foe is a woman, you - might better fall to the rear and leave leadership to Noah. You are - monstrous ignorant of woman.” - </p> - <p> - The Cravens lived no breathless distance up Georgetown way. Not far from - their doorstep, Noah and I encountered the Reverend Campbell, who seemed - shaken by the meeting. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing could be better,” cried Noah, cheerfully, claiming the Reverend - Campbell's arm. “You shall present the Major and myself to the ladies. And - please permit me to do the talking; you may have your turn at the - conversation when we leave.” - </p> - <p> - The two women were bilious, lime-faced folk, and the daughter notably - ugly. I was something stiff, I fear; but Noah, when introduced by the - Reverend Campbell, showed as balmy as a day in May. He swept the pair with - rapid glance and then turned to the daughter. - </p> - <p> - “I shall pitch upon the one I deem the more manageable,” said Noah, on our - journey to the house, “and when I commence to talk with her, you engage - with the other.” - </p> - <p> - Having this hint in my mind, when Noah began to address the daughter I - favored the mother with a word or two on safe topics, principally the - weather and the condition of the roads. For all that, I could tell how the - mother, like myself, had her ears laid back to catch the words of the - others. Her suspicions were upon us from the start, even with the guaranty - of the Reverend Campbell's company. As for that perturbed animal, he - looked only upon the floor, saying never a syllable, and rubbing one warty - hand with the other in a composite of doubt and trepidation. The tragic - wrath of the General still sang in the hare-hearted creature's head. - </p> - <p> - “We are being shown about by our reverend friend,” I heard Noah say; “we - were asked to make a few calls with him and meet the better folk. We were - too glad, I assure you; I grow vastly weary of nobody save the politicians - and nothing better to talk of than politics.” - </p> - <p> - To say that I was startled at these gay, glib fictions on the lips of my - companion would fall behind the fact; I was amazed. But I also had the - General's command to leave leadership to Noah, and so stood mute. I let my - gaze go for a moment to the Reverend Campbell to come by some thought of - how he took the trend of Noah's surprising discourse. I saw naught beyond - the top of his head, as, bowed forward in his chair, he appeared to study - his toes, meanwhile twiddling and rubbing his nobby fingers. - </p> - <p> - As for the women, they knew no argument of fact or otherwise for - distrusting Noah's statements. I should have before explained that neither - possessed the least of glimmer as to our identity or nearness to the - General. Indeed, they lived ignorant, we found later, of the letters of - that Ely ill-using Peg's name, and of the Reverend Campbell's visit to the - General paid that morning. Thus, it fell about that the daughter sailed - off with Noah on a current of conversation in the dark, and the mother - just as blind. - </p> - <p> - “And so,” Noah went on, “you are a copyist in the Department of Justice.” - This from her explanation and his notice of a stain of ink near her - finger-nail, for this daughter was an untidy slut. “The Department of - Justice!” repeated Noah. “And there is something consistent in your - employment in such a field, since Justice is a woman—and blind.” - This last quip under his breath. “I am a close friend with Judge Berrien, - the Attorney General, who heads your department. The great tie to unite us - is our love for Calhoun.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you a friend of the Vice-President?” asked the daughter, her interest - a little kindled. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps partisan would be the truer word,” replied Noah. “I trust a good - day will come when we are to drop the 'Vice' to his title and find him at - home in the White House. And you, I suppose, meet many of Calhoun's - adherents in your Department of Justice?” - </p> - <p> - “Numbers, indeed,” assented the daughter, while the mother bent an intent - ear, trying to discover the drift. - </p> - <p> - By this time I could well make out how neither of these women was of - vigorous intelligence. A malignant spirit, and a ripe aptness for evil to - others. I could read in their vinegar faces and the fault-finding gather - to their brows; but no power of thought, nor yet much cunning. I leaned - back now, inquisitive as to Noah's methods and to note their results. - </p> - <p> - Noah led the talk up and down the town. He made it cover several years, - for the Cravens were not newcomers in the place. At last he considered the - navy and mentioned Timberlake. Had the young lady known the handsome - purser Timberlake? The young lady had known the handsome purser - Timberlake. A forbidding scowl contorted her features as she said this. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I beg a thousand pardons!” cried Noah. He had caught the scowl. “I - fear the mention of the handsome Timberlake is not agreeable. But he cut - his throat, and there's the proper villain end of him.” - </p> - <p> - The butt-end cruelty of Noah's manner I was sure possessed a purpose, for - commonly he was one of your most guarded of folk. While I had this in - thought, it did not lessen my dismay when the daughter fell to weeping - with her face in her hands, and all in frantic kind. Sobbing, she left the - room. - </p> - <p> - “An affair of the heart?” cooed Noah, sympathetically, to the mother, - while the Reverend Campbell fidgeted visibly. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said the mother, loftily, “you touched her rudely. Mr. Timberlake - was paying my daughter marked attentions, and ones not to be - misunderstood, when he was stolen from her side and trapped to the altar - by that wanton, Peg O'Neal.” - </p> - <p> - “Sorry, I assure you,” murmured Noah, apologetically. “Sorry I so - blundered against your daughter's sensibilities. Please recall her, madam, - if only to hear me ask forgiveness.” - </p> - <p> - The daughter, whose emotion was of the briefest, returned, with nose - reddened and look more bilious than before. Noah became profuse in his - regrets, and severely characterized his own awkwardness. - </p> - <p> - “Nor are you to have blame for your feeling,” said he, addressing the - daughter and as a finish to his self-reproaches. “Your mother has done us - the honor to confide the once nearness of the handsome purser Timberlake - to you. And that hideous woman who stole him away! I do not marvel you - hate her. I could teach you to write her such a letter as should be a - revenge; for I know one of her secrets, the very name of which would crush - her like a falling tree.” - </p> - <p> - It was to me a thing astounding how neither of these women resented the - raw freedom of Noah's words. On the contrary, they went with him, making - no question of the propriety of such talk on the tongue of a stranger. - They would appear not to have been crossed by such a thought, for, so to - phrase it, they fell in with Noah, and, as if it were, hand in hand. - </p> - <p> - At the word “secrets,” both women sat bolt upright and questioned Noah - with tongue and eye. What was this hidden sin of that siren, Peg O'Neal? - They panted for a fullest tale of it. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, then,” remonstrated Noah, “it was but a slip. I said I could teach - you how to write a letter that should strike her to the soul. But of what - avail? Timberlake is dead; his grave is the Mediterranean.” - </p> - <p> - “But she lives,” hissed the daughter. “Tell me that secret concerning her, - and I shall call you my best friend.” Truly, the bilious maiden had a - taste for vengeance as pointed as a thorn. - </p> - <p> - “Why, then,” returned Noah, hesitating with invented reluctance, “there is - no reason why I should not humor your wishes. Take your pen, and I'll - dictate that letter I have in my mind.” - </p> - <p> - The bilious one wheeled about to a writing table which stood by her side, - and while the rest of us sat silent—for the mother and myself had - long before surrendered our semblance of conversation, and the unhappy - dominie still pored upon the floor—Noah began with finger on - forehead as one who cudgels memory. - </p> - <p> - “Write her this,” said Noah. “Revenge is sweet! I have you in my power; - and I shall burn you as savages burn their victim at the stake. Think not - that you can escape me. I would not that death nor any evil thing should - take you out of my hand for half the world.” When Noah began this evil - dictation, the lime-faced one took down his opening words with greedy pen. - As he proceeded, she first hesitated, and then with blanched, scared face, - whirled herself upon him. Her pen fell to the floor, while her hands shook - in a gust of fear. At the close she gasped: - </p> - <p> - “You have read my letter!” - </p> - <p> - “I have, indeed,” returned Noah. “I have repeated word for word your - atrocious threats to a lady whom we will not name.” It was verity; with a - memory like unto wax, Noah had recalled with every faithfulness of word - and mark that menacing epistle Peg brought to me, and which was then under - my private lock and key. “Yes, you wrote that letter,” repeated Noah. “And - you,” coming round on the Reverend Campbell, who writhed as one in the - jaws of wretchedness, unable to make a plan or frame a sentence; “and you, - sir, were privy to it.” - </p> - <p> - “Our dear sister”—he could not lay aside his snuffle even now—“our - dear sister did indeed tell me she had sent such a note.” - </p> - <p> - “You mix your tenses, sir,” retorted Noah, savagely. “She told you before - it was dispatched, and you read it.” - </p> - <p> - * “My dear gentlemen,” broke in the mother, in mighty agitation, “he put - that letter in the post himself. Oh, gentlemen, spare my poor daughter!” - With that the mother put her arm about the-younger harpy, where, like some - frightened thing of sin that can escape no farther, she waited as one - frozen. - </p> - <p> - “Your daughter, madam,” replied Noah, quietly enough, “lies in no peril, - although by the law there be punishments for ones who thus misuse the - post. But there remains another question. You have put a lie against that - lady of the letter into the mouth of our reverend friend. He has retold it - to many; this morning he told it to the President. The tale proves itself - untrue upon its face, and that is the one merit of it. It was a dangerous - falsehood to tell, and”—here Noah looked towards the unhappy - Reverend Campbell, who, as though fascinated by the other's baleful eye, - lifted up his visage,' with its ugly array of munching mouth and flabby - unhealthfulness—“and a still more dangerous falsehood to repeat.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you require of us, gentlemen?” asked the frightened mother-harpy. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing, save tongues of peace,” cried Noah. “It is too much to suppose - that her friends will rest quiet while you foully tear a good woman to - shreds. Tie up your tongues, you three, and the thing rests. Let another - word escape, and a torch shall be found to burn you out like any other - nest of adders.” The Reverend Campbell made no return to this warning - thrown to him with the others. The scoundrel had the wisdom of silence - when words would work no benefit. Still, I could trace a hunger for - retaliation writhing beneath the coarse snake's skin of him. - </p> - <p> - “I think we have locked three evil mouths to-day,” observed Noah, as we - were about our return. “It is the less important, perhaps, since already a - whole flock of these lies has been uncaged in the town.” - </p> - <p> - “It is never unimportant,” I returned, “to identify an enemy. I am the - more relieved, too, since you cleared up the mystery of that written - menace. And yet I do not make out how you supposed it gained emanation - among these people.” - </p> - <p> - “I had no such thought in the beginning,” replied Noah. “I knew, as did - you, and with a glance, how our entertainers were nothing fine nor deep, - but of a harshest clay and of least intelligence. No more delicacy was - required than might do for driving pigs. At first I sought to develop - their whereabouts, and stormed the woods with my remarks. In that, and on - the sheer chance of it, I employed the name of Timberlake. The daughter's - disturbed features were a cue. And you know the rest. The digging up of - the authorship of the letter was but the birth of a bold guess. However, - we've paralyzed that trio of tongues, which is excellent as far as it - goes. And we must beat out these fires wherever we find them. Else they - will spread, and may come to mean a conflagration that shall burn some one - to a cinder.” - </p> - <p> - “And going back for cause,” I said, my thought recurring to Peg, “I still - can not tell the hound purpose of this incessant, malignant pursuit of our - little girl.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, they reason in this guise,” returned Noah. “As I've told you, the - great impulse springs from the adherents of Calhoun. They desire the - destruction of the President as a method of their man's advancement. They - fear that the President will seek to succeed himself—there has been - illustrious example—or, in default of that, insist on selecting his - successor. They attack Mrs. Eaton in hope of its reaction against the - administration. Suppose, sir, they make her out to be vile, suppose they - show the administration as condoning and defending her vileness, will they - not have organized the women against us? Give Calhoun the women of the - country to be his allies, and he will go over the administration like an - avalanche.” - </p> - <p> - “But you”—now I spoke gingerly, for I would not hurt so true a - friend nor ruffle him with himself—“in your pretense of friendship - for Calhoun, and as well in other particulars, misled our harpy folk.” - </p> - <p> - “I but fought the devil with fire and snared liars with lies,” said he. - “These she-villains were not entitled to the truth. Only truthful folk - have a right to truth.” - </p> - <p> - When the General and I were together, I laid before him those ethics or - word-morals of Noah; he stoutly agreed with that diplomat. - </p> - <p> - “One is not always bound to tell the truth,” asserted the General. “Would - you tell a footpad whose gun was at your breast where you lodged your - money? In war, would you disclose your strengths or your plans to the foe - because he asked? Sir, truth is a property—a goods; to have right to - it one must possess title to it. The casual man, and the more if he would - work me harm, has as scant a right to search my head with his questions as - to search my pockets with his fingers. Take my word for it, Major,”—this - in high Delphic vein, for the General was growing pleased with his - argument—“take my word, sir; the right in the one is the right in - the other, and he who may lock a door may lie.” - </p> - <p> - “These harpies,” said I, commenting on what had befallen, “and the - Reverend Campbell have fair admitted their guilt.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, as to that, sir,” returned the General, “the falsity of the story - was never in doubt. But the prime thing is to smother out these calumnies. - It is not hard to see how this day has been well spent.” - </p> - <p> - In concord with what we had long before agreed, neither the General nor I, - by lisp or the lifting of an eyebrow, gave Peg a least intimation of what - had gone forward about her name and fame. And yet, she must have divined - her close interest, for in the early hours of the twilight she came again - to the General, saying she remembered books of account kept by - Timberlake's own hand, which would demonstrate his whereabouts for those - four years. Her mother, Peg said, had these books in her house. - </p> - <p> - “Why, then,” said the General, “that should give us the best evidence. - Major, go you with the child to her mother's and bring me those books.” - </p> - <p> - It was not the first call I had made on Peg's mother, but this night the - garrulous old soul would so launch herself upon wide waters of gossip, and - never quit until she crossed them from shore to shore, that it leaned - towards ten of the clock when Peg and I, taking the road in our hands, as - say the Spaniards, went forth for our return. - </p> - <p> - The night was dark and still, and a moist promise of rain hung in the air. - Our way lay from the south, diagonally across the wooded patch called the - Mall. We were finding our path without trouble, Peg keeping close and warm - to my side, with a hand gripping my arm, and had gone some distance when, - in a way of dull faintness, a sound like the fall of a stealthy foot on - the grass overtook my ear. Peg heard it as soon as I. - </p> - <p> - “Are we dogged?” she asked. Peg showed no fear, but bit off her words in a - manner vicious and resentful. - </p> - <p> - “That we may soon know,” said I. Then I drew her in by a clump of bushes - where her white frock would be screened. “It should be a strange thing if - any save ourselves were going this road at such an hour.” - </p> - <p> - We had been but a moment hidden by the trees when a dark figure crouched - past us with furtive, hurrying step that made it plain he followed as a - spy. As he would have brushed by, I stretched out and seized him by the - shoulder. The creature screamed like a hare when the dogs snap her up. - </p> - <p> - Now I lugged him to the open, and, for all the night was moonless and no - stars because of clouds, it puzzled neither Peg nor myself to make out the - Reverend Campbell. The fellow hung in my hand like a rag, and beyond that - first shrill screech uttered not a word. - </p> - <p> - “What shall I do with him?” I asked, still holding him in my grasp like - something dead. - </p> - <p> - “Kill him!” cried Peg; “kill him with your great hands!” And then, while I - was dumb before the sudden murderous fury of her tones, Peg began to plead - the other way about. “Let him go free,” she said. “He's not worth - punishment. And yet it is sure he was after us as a spy.” - </p> - <p> - “I think,” said I, “it would do no harm to throw him in yonder water.” - </p> - <p> - Now in that day a chain of baby lakes lay along this portion of the - Potomac fens, and one of these was glimmering on our near left hand. It - was not deep; but muddy and grown up to lilies, and the home, besides, of - certain sedate bullpouts and turtles and other stagnant fish that do not - care for currents but love dead waters. These, since bullpouts and turtles - be in no manner hysterical animals nor nervous, would not suffer for any - plumping of the spy into their midst; and, thus forming my resolve, I was - for posting to its execution. My captive still swung limp and loose, for - all the world as though he had fainted. I could not believe this last, - however, and in any event I would throw him in among the lilies. If he - were too far gone with fright to save his own life from drowning, it would - mean no more than that I must wade to him and fish him ashore again. - </p> - <p> - Thus adjusted in my mind, I was on the brink of heaving him overboard, - when with a touch of protest Peg stayed my arm. - </p> - <p> - “No,” she cried, “let him go free.” - </p> - <p> - “But a moment gone,” I remonstrated, “and you were calling for murder with - all its inconveniences. Now you interpose to stop a mighty proper - punishment, for, I bethink me, it has been custom to duck spies in every - age.” - </p> - <p> - “Still, you must let him go,” cried Peg. “I will not have you touch him.” - And she seized my hand with her little fingers. - </p> - <p> - With that I threw the caitiff creature on the grass; whereupon he rolled - to his knees and extended his palms towards Peg. There was something to - roil me in the attitude, and to end that I pushed him over with my foot. - </p> - <p> - “Be off,” I cried. “And you are to thank this lady for your dry clothes. - You had been splashing among the lily-pads except for her.” - </p> - <p> - Without retort, he scrambled to his soles and was gone like some foul - shadow. His absence, of itself, relieved me, for the sight of him was like - a blot. - </p> - <p> - “He would not resist, and so I made you let him go,” said Peg. - </p> - <p> - “You would have it safe for cowards,” I returned. - </p> - <p> - “It wasn't for that creature!” exclaimed Peg. She seemed to scorn me for a - dullard. “No; it was for you. I would not have such a memory—you, - punishing an unresisting beast!” - </p> - <p> - We were for a second time on our way, Peg now holding my arm with her two - hands and laying her cheek against it like a child. I could tell by that - how this bushwhacking rogue had fluttered her not a little. At last she - lifted her face, and I could, even in the pitch darkness, catch the deep - glow of her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “And after all, for what should you think he spied upon us? What should he - hope to find?” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, that is beyond me,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “But the very wicked are often very foolish too.” - </p> - <p> - “To follow so right a character as yourself, watch-dog, is for a spy to - waste his strength.” Peg spoke in a droll way of laughter. - </p> - <p> - “Why, then, I may say I emulate the virtuous Drusus, who commanded the - architect to so build his house that all who would might behold every act - of his life.” I must tell you I had studied the classics in my youth, and - would like at times to flourish with a scrap or two. I was no pedant to - show off my learning, only a tag or two from Ovid or Horace on occasion, - and just enough to suggest what a deal I had forgot. - </p> - <p> - “And your Drusus would so live as to hide nothing.” Peg was still stifling - a laugh. “How very admirable! And what was the end of your memorable - Drusus?” - </p> - <p> - “As to that,” I retorted, puzzled and put about by the satirical toss she - gave to her queries, “as to that, I believe the people stoned him to - death.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, the poor people! His awful goodness, I suppose, drove them to - frenzy.” Peg's voice was mocking sympathy. Then, with a great abruptness - of anger, and throwing away my arm: “Do you know what I think of your - precious Drusus? I think he was a hypocrite, and a canting prig who earned - his fate; and if he have followers they should taste the same destiny for - a sniveling conceit that teaches them a holiness above their neighbors.” - This Peg flung at me like a spoiled child; and then, stepping smartly, she - went on alone, I following in silence a yard or more to the rear. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX—THE GENERAL SELECTS HIS SUCCESSOR. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ow fell across us - the sultry summer; sometimes with rain, and steamy mud to follow; and then - with stretches of a burning dryness when the dust curled aloft on the - impertinent lip of the wind to fill folk's eyes and faces. There came, - too, the shadow of impending calamity to rest upon us, for the General's - health began to flag, and it would look for a while as though he had been - marked by death itself. The malady was never understood by me, and I think - the doctor lived no better off; but, as near as one might guess, it arose - from the bogs and reeking marshes fringing the river on our south, and on - which, morning and evening, I've seen the damps and miasmas lying white - and thick as a flock of wool—a sight to shake the strongest. - </p> - <p> - The General was indeed ill, and with face turning to be wan while his - haggard eye grew ever more bright and hollow. He lost greatly the use of - his legs; those members being swollen to a preposterous size, and his feet - dropsical, so that he could not be said to walk but only hobble. He must - be supported, leaning commonly on my arm, though sometimes Peg's pretty - shoulder was his crutch; for she was with him very constant, reading to - him, or passing him a glass, or cheering him with her talk of flippant - nothings. - </p> - <p> - With his usual bitterness of resolution the General would each day be up - and dressed, and pass the hours on a lounge which Augustus prepared, and - where he might lie and through the open casement command a prospect of the - distant Arlington hills. - </p> - <p> - To such a lowness did the General sink that his death was waited for, and - the doctor who attended him—and did no good—felt driven to - give him the name of it. - </p> - <p> - “For one who is in so high a place,” said the doctor, “must needs have - weighty concerns to be put in order; and therefore of all folk he should - be shown his end in time.” - </p> - <p> - This was gospel true enough as an abstraction, but in the case of the - General that doctor should have known how his business was to cure, and - not stand prating of death. Of this I informed him in such wise that he - was at once for leaving the house and never coming back. The loss might - have been easily measured had he done so. - </p> - <p> - It was the General himself who told me he was to die; and it stood a - marvel, the good patience and sympathy wherewith he went upon the - information. One would have supposed it was of my death he talked. - </p> - <p> - “And in the bottom of it,” said he, in conclusion, “I have the chance of - meeting her”—pointing to his wife's picture—“and that chance - alone would make twenty deaths worth trying. For when we come to the end - of it, Major, the heaven they talk of may be true.” This last with a - manner of reverie as when hope upholds conviction leaning to a fall. - </p> - <p> - As best it could, my nature fought against a belief that the General would - die; but his own word overpowered me. The fear of it, when he told the - news, went through me like a spear. Or it was as if a stone were rolled - upon my heart. - </p> - <p> - Sick folk, for a rule, are impatient and sharply cross with those about, - even with their best beloved. But the General would be the opposite, and - was never more tolerant than now when he lay ill; and this kindness made - it a privilege and a pleasure to be near him, and not a burden to be - borne. - </p> - <p> - Peg, as I have written, was much with him—fresh and sweet as a - cluster of violets, about a sick room she was worth her weight in drugs. - And the General and she had never so full a space for acquaintance before, - and so each day he came to know Peg better and to love her more. - </p> - <p> - There existed throughout this summer a kind of truce in the crusade - against Peg; the Reverend Ely had turned to be as mute as an oyster, while - the Reverend Campbell and those harpies whom Noah so confounded were not - only silent but deeply out of sight. There was neither sign nor rumor to - come from them. - </p> - <p> - The books of account which Peg and I brought away from her mother's on the - night when we were dogged, showed all Peg claimed. For the June her - detractors spoke of in their lyings, and for three years before and well - nigh a twelvemonth to follow, Timberlake was in town, and, after his - wedding, constantly with Peg until he sailed. There was left no ground for - argument, and that tale, as fatuous as it was wicked, fell, knocked on its - sinful head. - </p> - <p> - As for the lurking Reverend Campbell himself, I caught sight of him but - once. This was accident, and the pleasure of the shortest, for he dodged - around a corner like the wind; and although—through an idleness of - mind to see him going—I made speed to be at his point of - disappearance, he, so to say, had exhaled. Into what dark crevice he - crawled to hide from me I have no hint; but as if that street corner were - a corner of the universe and he spilled therefrom into the very abyss of - eternity itself, I never afterward caught the picture of his tallow cheeks - and festering, munching lips. - </p> - <p> - This peace for Peg was something due to, a desertion of the town; for - everybody—and women-folk especially—not tied by the leg to - duties, went seeking cool comfort by the ocean or on the mountains. - </p> - <p> - Eaton himself made one of those who went away; he would have had Peg for - company, but she urged—what was true, since the old lady had grown - frail and weakly—that she ought not to leave her mother for so long - a space. Eaton agreed with entire good humor to this, and so left Peg - behind, and never a qualm or mark of hesitation, while he sought his ease - by the sea. - </p> - <p> - Eaton from his own view-point might well spare Peg from his plans; he was - extremely a man's man, and owning, withal, a hand for the bottle and a - mighty promptitude for cards, would the better amuse himself with no wife - to be a mortgage on his liberty. - </p> - <p> - Summer is for society what winter is to war; the forces lie all in - quarters, and beyond caring for their arms or practicing a drill against - the campaign day to dawn, there arises nothing to be called a movement. - Indeed, as I've explained, the women—who, as Peg would have it, are - the fighting line—for the most part were fled to beach and hill. The - town was in its sleep, and society would awaken it only with the advent of - the snows. - </p> - <p> - In the last there were still our three cabinet wives, that is, the ladies - Berrien, Branch, and Ingham, to be left about us. These would soon depart; - but by this claim or that, they had been brought to lag behind when the - great covey of their flounced fellows went whirring away to be cool. Peg - never had visited these folk, nor they her, and on those few occasions - when official exigency threw them together, the cabinet three, who, like - the General's fleeting niece, were utterly beneath the sway of the - Vice-President's wife—herself a woman of unquestioned place and - breeding, and a natural queen, besides,—took heed to hold aloof from - Peg. On her side, Peg passed them by or looked them through as though they - had not been, and, if I am to judge, came off from these tiltings with - prestige all undimmed. - </p> - <p> - It would have been as good as the play, were I not prey and spoil to so - much soreness in the business, to have watched those tacit joustings of - Peg with our old mailed warriors of the drawing rooms. The dauntless Peg - crossed glances with the most seasoned of her bad-wishers, and left them - ever the worse for those thrustings. If she were wounded, no one learned - the bleeding fact; and not even I should know. From the laugh to ring - true, and the fine spirit of her, I was fain to conclude that Peg, so far - from shrinking, joyed in such silken combats to take place among the - flowers and with the music of orchestras stirring the blood; and in the - last I am sure she did. - </p> - <p> - Berrien and Branch, and for that matter the clumsy Ingham, would with an - invariable politeness, nicely measured to a hair, greet Peg whenever they - met with her; and she would accept their courtesy in a cold way of - elevation and as though our cabinet gentlemen came of the general press - about whose very names she did not know and never would. On such lofty - terms a fair peace was maintained, and nothing to rancorously rise above - the majesty of a ripple to beat upon any one's shore. - </p> - <p> - The General might have preferred a better cordiality, but he could make no - interference. - </p> - <p> - “If to step between a man and his enemy,” he would say, “is to invoke a - risk, how much more is he in danger who tampers with the feuds of women?” - </p> - <p> - For one, I much agreed with him, and we both looked on, idle of hand and - tongue, while Peg met and foiled the “Redsticks,” as the General named - them. - </p> - <p> - Nor would Peg need our aid. I've seen no prouder, braver woman walk across - a room, or one of a more nimble faculty or fortitude more broadly planted, - than our Peg. My admiration spent its days to weave new wreaths for her. - </p> - <p> - It was the doting Ingham—he of our Treasury—to be witless - enough to broach this business of feminine ice with Eaton. Ingham was a - girthy person, and one's briefest consideration disclosed him for the - vulgar Pennsylvania paper-maker he was. Short and thick of body, with - thick legs, thick neck; even his tongue was thick, and his slow wits - thickest of all. Of Ingham I shall not forget Jim's estimate. - </p> - <p> - “It aint for Jim,” said that worthy, “to go talkin' sassy about no white - gentleman; but as for dish yere Mr. Ingham, thar's a notion ag'in him - which goes gropin' about through Jim like d'grace of heaven through a camp - meetin'. That Mr. Ingham is mean; he's that mean if he owned a lake he - wouldn't give a duck a drink. He's jes' about as pop'lar with Jim as a wet - dawg; an' that's d'mortual fac'.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't appear to carry a high estimate of our Secretary of the - Treasury,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “'Deed Jim don't, Marse Major,” he replied. “An' jes' let Jim warn - you-all. You don't want to disrecollect, Marse Major, that Jim's a heap - sight older man than you be, an' while Jim don't deny he's been gettin' - duller an' duller ever since you locks up that demijohn, still it's mighty - likely Jim's wise an' wary to a p'int where you-all oughter listen.” - </p> - <p> - “Go on,” said I, “I'm listening.” - </p> - <p> - “Course you-all is listenin',” agreed Jim; “of course you listens, 'cause - you has got listenin' sense. That's what Jim likes about you. Now let Jim - tell you, Marse Major; that Mr. Ingham's plumb selfish. Jim can see it in - his eye. He's all right whilst he's haulin' fodder for his own stack, but - you let your intrusrun ag'in his, an' you hyar Jim! that Mr. Ingham 'ud - burn your barn to boil his egg quicker than a mule can kick.” - </p> - <p> - Ingham took up the subject of their wives' coldness with Eaton in an - unexpected fashion. I have heard that he was thus set in foolish motion by - a fear of trouble at ten paces with the war secretary, and would have - placated him and missed a bullet. He stood under no cloud of peril, but - that dove-like truth was yet to claim him. The General would have been his - shield; but Ingham, who regarded the General as chief among the - fire-eaters, would be the last to suspect the news. - </p> - <p> - It was on the kibes of a cabinet meeting when Ingham approached Eaton. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said Ingham, tugging nervously at his lapels, “sir, there is - something of strain between our ladies, about which, if you'll permit, I - should like word with you.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, sir,” returned Eaton, seizing the initiative, “I perhaps should tell - you that I can not, in her social obligations, control my wife. That, sir, - let me say, is work beyond a gentleman. My wife must be her own mistress; - and while I know of no just cause why she should refuse to receive or - recognize Mrs. Ingham, I must still insist how the right to do both lies - wholly in her hands. Personally, I may deplore my wife's refusal of the - acquaintance of Mrs. Ingham; however, I stand none the less ready to give - you any satisfaction you require.” - </p> - <p> - With this speech, Eaton bent his brows upon the other in such way of iron - menace that without a word our timid treasury gentleman clapped on his hat - and went pantingly in quest of safer company. - </p> - <p> - “Was it not a master-stroke?” exulted the General, when he related the - flurry. “Eaton had the hill of him in an instant; Napoleon himself could - not have exhibited a more military genius.” - </p> - <p> - The General, in his glee, would talk of nothing else throughout the - evening; but since I left him at an early hour I was not bored too much. - Eaton replied in a manner to his credit when one considers the fact of a - surprise; but there dwelt therein no reason for that long-drawn delight in - which the General indulged. I was so far fortunate, however, as to soon - quit him on that particular night, having work to look after, and so - escaped his enthusiasm. Any childishness of satisfaction for little - reason, by the General, obtruded offensively on my ideal of him, and I - would experience no more of it than I might; wherefore I went about my - affairs, leaving him in full song, celebrating the gallant cleverness of - Eaton, who, to my notion, instead of his smart speeches should have pulled - the Ingham nose. - </p> - <p> - While the General was sick on his lounge, and when Peg tired of reading, - she would fall to a review of the unremitting politeness bestowed upon her - by the suave Van Buren. One might read the pleasure of the General over - these tidings in his relaxed face and the heed he offered to each detail. - The word of how Van Buren had brought Vaughn of the English and Krudener - of the Russians—for these ministers were joint despots among the - legation folk and led them to what social fields they would—gave the - General peculiar satisfaction; and if there remained a door in his - affections which had not yet opened to the little Knickerbocker, Peg's - recitals of the secretary's steady yet delicately balanced goodness threw - it wide. - </p> - <p> - When the General and I were alone with our nightly pipes—albeit he - at the time would be in his bed for sickness—he made his little - premier the great burden of his conversation and was wont to find in him - new excellencies. Time and again he would quote Peg to me for virtues - owned of Van Buren and which he feared might otherwise elude my notice. It - was clear “the good little secretary”—Peg's name—was become a - first favorite of the General; and to be frank, and for identical reasons, - as much should be said of me. I loved any who was good to Peg, and made no - bones of showing it. Wherefore, you are to conceive, there arose no - dispute between us; instead, we took turn and turn about in exalting our - secretary and teaching each other a higher account of the man. - </p> - <p> - Peg would set forth to the General—it amused him and he would - question her concerning such matters—how in this sort or in that, - and always in some way of trifles too small for the mind of a man to seize - on, the women who followed the social banner of the Vice-President's wife - would strive to drive her into obscurity. And this was not wanting of - stern effect on the General. The name Calhoun found constant repetition in - these tales, and never to give the General delight. And there is this to - observe: while Peg spoke of Mrs. Calhoun, the General, for his side, would - be thinking only on the Vice-President, and at the end he held even more - hateful views of the Carolinian than of Henry Clay himself. Surely, he - came finally to be strung like a bow against him. - </p> - <p> - This vivacity of disfavor for Calhoun, however, may have had its story. - Clay was a foe beaten beyond question, powerless for further war. Calhoun, - on the other hand, was increasing in power; and, active in design and - searching for the future, stood forth as an enemy yet to be conquered. - </p> - <p> - “The man is a would-be traitor,” said the General one day when speaking - with me of Calhoun and his lines of political resolve. “He should - consider, however; I may yet teach him a better patriotism.” - </p> - <p> - “He is for your destruction,” said I, “and has been since the Seminole - days.” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing is more plain than that,” said the General. “And yet, were he or - his people fibered of any decency, they would not, as an element of - assault on me, seek to make tatters of poor Peg. I can not see how they - bring themselves to that; for myself, I would not give hand to so vile a - ploy for all the world.” - </p> - <p> - “They would plunge you in for Peg's defence,” I said, recalling Noah's - explanation. “They hope to set the women of the land upon you as he who - gives countenance to one flagrant of her sins. That is their precious - intrigue; they, with their lies of Peg, would shake your power with - private home-loving folk whose firesides are clean and who base themselves - on chastity. There you have the whole crow-colored scheme of them, with - the black impulse which turns them against Peg.” - </p> - <p> - “If they shake me with the people,” said the General, “they should call it - the thirteenth labor of Hercules.” - </p> - <p> - “They should have punishment for all that,” cried I. - </p> - <p> - “Sir, they shall be punished,” retorted the General. “And as for Calhoun, - he most of all shall suffer. Mark you this: That man shall never be - president. More, he may yet win Gilderoy's elevation at a rope's end.” - This last in wrathful whisper like a warning of death. - </p> - <p> - There was spreading reason to talk on Calhoun and his policies. South - Carolina, ever arrogant, was moving to snap rebellious thumb and finger in - the National face. The legislature of that insolent commonwealth had done - its treason part; Nullification and its counterpart, Secession, were - already agreed on; men were being enrolled and arms collected, while - medals found Charleston coinage bearing the words, “John C. Calhoun, First - President of the Southern Confederacy.” - </p> - <p> - And the restless spirit to animate it all was no other than Calhoun - himself. He was then among his henchmen of the Palmettoes, directing even - the very phrases wherewith to deck their traitorous fulminations. So much - the General knew, not alone from what Peg read daily in the papers, but by - the weeded word of ones whom, safe and prudent, we dispatched to find the - truth. - </p> - <p> - And yet, in the last, I was sure Calhoun would never mean rebellion and a - severance of his state from the common bonds. On such terms he could not - succeed the General for the presidency, which was his invincible ambition. - What Calhoun hoped was, by a deafening din of threat on his people's part - of secession and rebellion, and every whatnot of stark treason besides, to - browbeat the General to his will of Nullification; and thus by the one - stroke to so fix himself in the van of victorious sentiment that no one - might stay his march of White House conquest. And in good truth, thus - argued the General. - </p> - <p> - “But he should beware,” said the General. “Calhoun and his cohorts shall - not steal a march on the old soldier. They must not go too far. A - conspiracy to do treason exists, and Calhoun is at its head. But the mere - conspiracy is not enough. Marshall lays it down how folk can not think - treason, can not talk treason, and that treason to be treason must be - acted. There must be the overt act; and though it be but the act of one, - it attaches to every member of the conspiracy and becomes the treason of - all. If one man so much as snap a South Carolina flint, that is an act to - fall within the law, and the treason is the treason of Calhoun. I say, he - should take heed for himself; whether he know it or no, the man walks - among pitfalls.” - </p> - <p> - “But you should be prepared,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “We will go upon the work at once,” returned the General. “Winfield Scott - shall proceed to Charleston; the fleet shall convene in the bay; Castle - Pinckney shall have a hundred thousand stand of arms; and we will write to - our old Indian fighters, Crockett and Coffee and Houston and Dale and - Overton and the rest, to lie ready with one hundred thousand riflemen in - Tennessee and North Carolina to overwhelm these rebellionists at the - dropping of a handkerchief.” - </p> - <p> - This converse, I recall, came off one afternoon when the General was in - more healthful fettle than stood common during those days of fear for his - life. Peg sat with us; indeed, it was news she gave us from a Charleston - paper to bring down all this talk. - </p> - <p> - Peg, silent yet interested, listened while the General laid out his - purposes. - </p> - <p> - “And if the Vice-President were taken for treason, what then?” asked Peg - in a kind of innocence. “What would you do with him?” - </p> - <p> - “He shall hang, child,” and the General spoke slowly and with a granite - emphasis; “he shall hang as high as Haman! He shall be a lesson to - traitors for all time.” - </p> - <p> - It was then, and for the first time, as the General sank back spent, and - in his weakness almost consumed of his own fires, there broke on me the - whole peril of Calhoun. I knew the General too well to distrust the - execution of his rope-and-gibbet threat. I was the more confirmed when - that evening he would have me go about a score of letters ordering the - readiness of those ships and arms and men he had outlined. A cordon of - power was to be thrown about Calhoun and the ground beneath him mined for - his destruction. - </p> - <p> - Now if the General through this long summer grew to a better acquaintance - with Peg, the same also might be told of me. And hardly a day was to dawn - and die when in the unique turns and twists of her manifold nature she - would not come upon me in a novel light. She was never to be twice the - same, and my sluggish apprehension could scarce keep pace with the changes - of her. - </p> - <p> - For a specimen, then, of how she would stand against me over a wrong - claim, and her skill in its defence. One morning she had drawn me off to - the northward for a walk. The day was by no means sultry, and a breeze was - blowing and so induced a temperature which made the exercise a joy. We - were rambling through a deep valley—Peg and I—which was the - home of a brawling rivulet, and making a slow journey of it, since the - way, broken by boulders and sown with thickets in between, was something - of the roughest. While about this pleasant toil Peg broke forth: - </p> - <p> - “Do you see that vine?” Here she pointed to a creeper, luxuriant and rich, - which, failing of support to climb by, ran all about on the ground. “That - vine is like me. It needs a trellis—asks some tall and strong tree - to clasp and love and grow upon. Given a tree to touch the heavens, that - loving vine would climb upward to kiss the heavens with her tree. Wanting - her tree—poor vine!—she grovels about the ground. That vine - and I are the same.” - </p> - <p> - To this I offered no response, for I could not see how the matter called - for debate; and then her fancy was like unto a shooting star, and no one - might foresee its flight or prophesy its course. However, Peg did not ask - reply. Away she plunged in a new direction. - </p> - <p> - “Should one control his love, to send it here or there like a dog?” - </p> - <p> - “Why,” said I, “the thing is out of the question. One's love is not a - creature of bit and bridle, to be guided as one guides a horse. I should - say that no one controls his love, but is controlled by it.” - </p> - <p> - “See there, now! A second Daniel!” cried Peg, with a little flicker of - derision. For all that, I could tell how she agreed with me. She went on, - “Then one is not to blame how one's love wanders, since one has it in no - leading-string. Should one marry without love?” - </p> - <p> - “Of a verity! no,” I retorted. “It would be to cheat the other of every - chance of happiness.” - </p> - <p> - “If one be not to blame,” said Peg, in a wandering way of talk, “if one be - not to blame for the birth of one's love, neither should one be blamed for - its death. And if one is not to marry without love, one should not - continue, the wife with the husband nor he with her, when love has met its - end. You yourself have shown me the wrong of that. Ah, watch-dog! am I not - right?” - </p> - <p> - “Now, in all my days,” said I, “I have not been made to talk so much on - love. The question is above me.” - </p> - <p> - “You said folk should not wed wanting love.” Peg paused to stamp her foot - at me in saucy vehemence. “If that be true, then folk should not remain - wedded wanting love. Do you not think, if a wife were to cease to love her - husband, she should leave him? Does she not owe him that duty? And you - have said, watch-dog, as you shall not forget, that her love, too, is not - her fault.” - </p> - <p> - “Still, I should deem it great pity,” said I, “were a wife to leave her - husband.” - </p> - <p> - “And that is mighty loyal to your friend,” cried Peg, in a hot spurt of - indignation. “Did not the General's wife leave a husband for him? It was - well for both her and him they did not consult with you. She might have - been unhappy yet, and he never happy at all.” Then, gravely, following a - pause: “watch-dog, you are dull beyond description.” - </p> - <p> - When I reflected on my blind inference of criticism against the General, - and his wife in her grave, I was willing to concede as much. However, I - took refuge in saying nothing, waiting for my blunder to blow by. - </p> - <p> - After a moment, and as we walked in a wide grassy place side by side, Peg - took up my hand. Finding the round, white mark where the wound of her - leopard tooth had healed, she gazed on it a moment and sighed. Then, - before I could stay her, she kissed it. - </p> - <p> - “Peg's mark!” she exclaimed, as though she conversed with her thoughts; - “Peg's mark for her slave!” Then lifting up her eyes to mine: “I love that - mark; so much of you I love.” Then hiding a rogue of a smile which began - to creep about the corners of her mouth, for she would be amused, it would - seem, over the confusion into which her caress had thrown me—“Tell - me, slave, do you not wish now it were a great hideous scar to overwhelm - you?” - </p> - <p> - “And wherefore?” I asked. I could see how she meant to tease me with her - mockeries, and would give her no answer to go upon. “I regard that as a - very excellent scar as it is,” said I. “I would not have it larger for a - good deal.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, believe me,” cried Peg, her nose to the sky in a moment: “I would not - make it larger for the world.” - </p> - <p> - With that, and wearing a mighty air of insult, she went about swiftly, and - never a syllable for good or ill could I bring from her until we reached - her house. At the gate she paused and offered me her old, teasing look. - </p> - <p> - “Do you pray, watch-dog?” said she. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot make that boast,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “You should begin at once,” she retorted. “You should pray for quickness - and a little wit.” Then, seeing me to rummage about in my thoughts for a - clue to this: “But have no fear, watch-dog; I shall never let the General - know how you condemned his wife.” - </p> - <p> - This gave me ease again, for then I caught her meaning. However, I needed - no such assurance, since I knew of none to own Peg's tact, or one less - likely to go upon that error with the General she would pledge me her word - to avoid. - </p> - <p> - The summer was running into autumn and the General no better. There had - been good days and bad days, and for weeks on end we were made to swing - between hope and fear like a pendulum. And I believe he would have died, - too, if it had not been for Peg to tend upon his pillow like a daughter. - What a joy I had of the girl! My soul would fair reach out to take her in - its arms for that tireless affection wherewith she surrounded him. While - she could help, she was about him like an angel; when he turned his head - for a little rest, she would be with me in her big chair by my desk. - </p> - <p> - And yet, when the days drew on themselves the coolness of October, and one - should have looked for him to mend, the General fell suddenly away to the - last flicker of his strength like a candle burning out. It was then the - doctor gave him that warning how his time was near, and put us upon our - guard to meet the worst. I may tell you my heart was as so much wood under - my ribs, and gloom dwelt in the house like a ghost. - </p> - <p> - It will have somewhat a foolish sound, but, as I live by bread I think it - was our Peg to save the General out from between the paws of death. Not by - her care, though that was above description, but rather with a thought she - one day laid upon him. - </p> - <p> - “Child, I shall surely die,” the General was saying. “I have thought so - more than once during my rough life; but this time is my first to really - know. Now I see that I shall die.” - </p> - <p> - Then he asked her to read a song from the hymn-book of his wife. “They are - always an ease to me,” he said. - </p> - <p> - Peg's eyes were running tears, and she had her work cut out to smother her - sobs. For all that, she bore bravely up. - </p> - <p> - “You will not die,” cried Peg. “And I shall read you, instead of hymns, - how the Vice-President means to pull the country to pieces with his - Charleston plots. Will you die and make him president in your stead—endow - him with the power for his treasons?” - </p> - <p> - Peg told me how she had no design in saying this, and that Calhoun was in - her mouth no more than an exclamation. And yet had it been the - prescription of a whole college of doctors, it could not have exerted a - wholesomer effect. - </p> - <p> - The General had told me he would die; and I had stood in daily terror of - it; and yet neither had once fallen to consider—and this smacks of - the foolish for both of us—how his death would raise up Calhoun to - take his place. The truth is, I could never bring myself to plan or look - beyond the General's death; my thought, however fear-spurred, would run no - farther than just his death; there it would stop nor budge a pace beyond. - The General's death would seem the end of things, as it might be a second - deluge. And perhaps he, himself, fell into similar frame; only with him it - was but his building on that all-swallowing hope of meeting with his Saint - Rachel, never again to be parted. That crowded out all else. - </p> - <p> - Letting conjecturings go adrift, however, the bald fact remains that it - was Peg, after all, who came first to make us take a thought in advance - and consider where the General's going would place the country with - Calhoun. I remember how the General lay back on his pillow after Peg's - outburst of warning; and next how his glance began to collect its old-time - fire. - </p> - <p> - “By the Eternal!”—this in a whisper—“I will not die and leave - the people helpless with those traitors. I must either live my term out, - or live till I hang Calhoun. The country must be safe before I go.” - </p> - <p> - From that moment he would not speak of dying, but only of getting well and - living; and each day he made visible stages towards a better strength, and - would sit up longer, and would demand that we do some work. I can not say - I witnessed these efforts without trembling; he might break himself down - to death's door with this sudden load of labor. But no, he would go on; - and no harm to come of it, but only good, for within the four weeks to - follow Peg's inspired exhortation—for I shall ever think of her as - one inspired of heaven to call the General back from death—he could - be looked on as a hale man, one sound and in a plight of safety. - </p> - <p> - Also, his old fierceness began again to burn; he would bicker with me - viciously—a thing laid aside for months. It comes back to me how, at - the tail end of that sickness, his first words of opposition to something - I proposed fell on my ears like a concord of sweet sounds. I could thank - God in my heart to hear his anger, for now I knew he was surely upon - health's own highroad. And so he was. - </p> - <p> - There came another thing of moment to find its cause in the General's - illness, and that death it would threaten. The word had gone about the - town that the General was in his last throes, or nearly; and at that, the - thought giving a mean courage to the man, in the midst of this bad news - our port wine Duff Green came upon us with a long editorial comparison of - Calhoun with Van Buren, wherein the latter was lashed and the other - uplifted to the blue dome. The article was nothing strong or well - considered—a mere black thing of froth and poison!—and served - no purpose beyond marking Duff Green's friendship in one quarter and his - enmity in another. - </p> - <p> - It was Peg, who had taken charge of our newspapers, to call our eyes to - the business. - </p> - <p> - Peg's indignation ran high, for she was a tireless adherent of her “good - little secretary,” who would be her ally against Mrs. Calhoun. - </p> - <p> - “Listen to this wretch!” cried Peg, as with the paper in her little claw - she burst upon the General and me. - </p> - <p> - Thereupon she gave us the English of it, and being strung with anger, - flourished it off with much spirit and effect. - </p> - <p> - While the General bent quiet ear, his brow lowered and his own anger began - to run with Peg's. - </p> - <p> - “The scoundrel speaks of Van Buren,” said the General, when Peg was done; - “but he means me. And so he applauds Calhoun! Then let him follow his - applause for his support.” Then, to me directly: “Did you not in the - beginning speak of calling Blair to found a paper? Write to him; bid him - come at once. This Duff Green has done enough for punishment, and we will - go about his destinies in ways not soon to be forgot.” - </p> - <p> - Within the hour, a word was on the road to Blair in Frankfort; a word to - become at once the death-warrant of Duff Green's <i>Telegraph</i> and the - reason of Blair's <i>Globe</i>, which last, as the General once said, grew - up in a night like any Jonah's gourd, to cast a long, important shadow in - affairs. - </p> - <p> - Duff Green, as if to observe the effect of his Calhoun-Van Buren shot, - would call upon the General. It was my guardian Jim who told me of that - visit. - </p> - <p> - “I was sort o' knockin' 'round,” said Jim, “like a blind dog in a meat - shop, when dish yere Duff Green gentleman tells me to give you 'Howdy!' - an' say he's waitin' to see you-all.” - </p> - <p> - “Where is he?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “He's pervadin' about d'big Eas' Room,” returned Jim, “when I 'bandons - him.” - </p> - <p> - Duff Green extended his fishy hand; but I did not see it, my eyes being - employed upon his face; and that with so cold an industry it served to - turn the violin red of it to apoplectic purple for uneasiness and rage. - </p> - <p> - “I offer you my hand, sir,” cried Duff. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said I, “in requital, I offer you a sentence of counsel. Be out of - that door, and do not enter it again until your friend Calhoun is master - in this house. But stay; I have another order for your ear. Do not, by - word or look or act, whether to me or to any man, make claim on my - acquaintance. I will not agree as to the measure of my resentment in case - you do.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, is this an insult?” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, you will please yourself for a term.” - </p> - <p> - “And, sir,”—Duff Green's voice quavered a trifle—“am I to - consider this the action of the president?” - </p> - <p> - “I think it would be wise to do so,” I retorted, “since you would seem to - stand even lower in his graces than you do in mine. I argue this from a - comparison of our remarks upon you.” I was enough the savage to delight in - harassing the pursy Duff and in diminishing his brow of consequence. “I - did but casually describe you—being idle at the time—as a - bloated spider, sucking patronage, and with a newspaper to be your web, - when he would correct me. 'You do the dog a compliment,' said he. 'Now, - one might conceive of a spider that should be of some moment. He whom we - call Duff Green is no such thing. He is nothing; or at most a vacuum, - which is nothingness given a name—as it were, an im-ponderous - absence of overpowering unimportance.'” - </p> - <p> - “Them's mighty fine words, Marse Major, you-all flings loose,” said Jim, - when Duff Green quit the field. Jim, whose care concerning me was only - equaled by his curiosity, stood, of course, in close attendance upon the - colloquy. “Yas-sir,” he continued, “them's what Jim calls langwidge of - d'good ol' Cumberland kind. That Duff Green gentleman shore misses it a - mile when he comes pawin' 'round for to 'spute with you. Yes, indeed, - Marse Major, that's whar he drap his water-million!” - </p> - <p> - When I repeated my interview with Duff to the General, together with Jim's - comments of admiration, and we had had our laugh, the General turned - serious: - </p> - <p> - “Major,” said he, “I've been thinking. I may yet die, and the rule we made - that no one of my cabinet shall succeed me when my term is done turns now - to be no good rule. It strengthens Calhoun. Also, it is he to set his dog - of a Duff against Van Buren because the latter would buckler Peg. I'm too - much broken and too weak for talk, and I need not repeat the reasons for - such step. It's on my heart, however, to set the ball in motion for Van - Buren to have this place when my term is done.” - </p> - <p> - “And how would you proceed?” said I. “For myself, nothing could be better - to my taste.” - </p> - <p> - “This is my notion,” said the General. “Let us write to Overton, setting - forth—with a cloud of other matter to be a cover—the - presidential fitness of Van Buren in his every line. This shall be a - secret between Overton and us. The letter will be wanted only in event of - my death, for while I live Calhoun shall never have the White House. If I - die, why there's my name to it for Van Buren against the world. And let me - tell you, sir, I much mistake my place with the people if my dead word be - not of greater weight with them, aye! if it do not move them far beyond - any potency to be latent in the living name Calhoun.” - </p> - <p> - We made no pause about it, the General and I, and as soon as saddle-bags - might carry, Overton received the missive which the General had described. - It was never wanted, for the General did not die; but there it lay in the - hands of Overton, and the word-for-word blood brother to it in my own, - ready like a grim reserve to take his place in battle against Calhoun - should the General be stricken down. - </p> - <p> - And thus, during our first summer and autumn, did the General and I, with - caution and wise concern, coil down and clear our political decks for the - great wars we knew were at hand. Defeat for our enemies; triumph for our - friends; those were our watchwords. - </p> - <p> - You may believe I went into November and looked winterward with a load off - my soul, when now the General's health was come back; and with it his - temper to wrangle and clash with me; also his mighty heart was restored, - hot as Hecla and as volcanic, against those who, mongering Nullification, - would forge a Calhoun treason down among the rice fields. - </p> - <p> - As for Peg, there stood no limit to her satisfaction when the fight for - the General's life was won, and he in fairer health than at any hour since - we came. - </p> - <p> - “And, child, it was you who saved me,” said the General, lifting up Peg's - chin with his thin hand. “Do you think I shall forget that?” - </p> - <p> - Now the town began to regain its own, and folk came straggling in from - beach and hill and dale. Noah, too, was down from New York, he and his - graceful Hercules, Rivera; and, as the town filled, Peg's spirits would - put on spurs, and she never was more blithe and high than now when we drew - close to that struggle of the drawing rooms wherein she so planned to have - a leading portion. - </p> - <p> - One day, however, she would seem not quite so gay as common, but with a - haze of thought about those eyes, which of late—with the General - strong and above the need of drugs—had danced and sparkled. Peg had - brought me a posy of flowers for my desk. - </p> - <p> - “Are they not beautiful?” she asked. “I love the flowers; so sweet, so - contented on their stems among the leaves! Are they not beautiful?” - </p> - <p> - “And how will I see flowers while you are in the place?” said I. - </p> - <p> - This was to cure her out of her sadness, which, for all her words about - the flowers, hung over her face like a mist. - </p> - <p> - “Now, see how well you said that!” cried Peg, brightening a little and - turning me her droll look. “Was it prepared? Was it spontaneous? Really, - slave, were you to go on like that for a year, or say for two, my hope - might revive over you.” This lightly, and to step off her tongue with foot - of air. Then, for my bewilderment beyond hope, she without warning breaks - into tears. And next, to be a cap-sheaf on my shocked amazement, she gives - me this at the door, to which she cries her way blindly: “My husband will - be home to-night!” And with that she leaves me helplessly to wonder was - there ever born upon this earth, to be a beautiful woman and turn folk - mad, such another confusing tangle as this Peg of ours! - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X—THE MAJOR AND PEG AT CROSSES - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ext morning I went - straight into the midst of my correspondence and began tossing it on my - pen as husbandmen toss hay. There rang no unusual call for this energy of - ink, but the whole truth was that, flying like a fugitive before pursuing - thoughts of Peg—I may tell you they had a fine dance about my pillow - the night before!—I would make a refuge of my work. - </p> - <p> - Long ago I had given up the hope of solving Peg in her vagaries. One would - never know where or when or how to lay hold on her, for she came to one - new and new each day. Wayward, erratic, now fierce and now tender, now in - laughter and now in tears, one might not count on her moods in their - direction more than on the flight of birds. The one only thing one might - be sure of concerning Peg was that one was sure of nothing. - </p> - <p> - It was the thought of those tears for the home-coming of Eaton which would - storm me down and have me captive for all I might barricade with pen and - ink. What should they proclaim? That Peg was unhappy, truly, since folk do - not weep for mirth. In a way I was daunted of my honor as I went about - these thoughts; it seemed a trustless thing to dwell on Peg and her wedded - life. And I would fight against it; and still it pinned and held me. In - the last of it I was claimed by the conclusion that Peg found existence - grievously dark, for what else should be headwaters for those tears? Also, - I resolved that I would coldly look the question of her grief in the face; - it might turn the better for both of us to lay hands upon its cause. I was - given the more courage for this scrutiny since I had not forgotten how Peg - named me to be her only confidant; that word put a trust upon me and made - my question-asking a kind of duty. - </p> - <p> - As thread by thread I lifted up the inquiry of Peg's sorrow, the truth - would begin to make itself plain to me. Eaton was something gross, and - mayhap in his finer senses not unnumbed of the bowl. He could not value - Peg—she, a perfumed spirit thing of music and color and fire and - light! And Peg would feel his lack of appreciation; it would wring her - heart, stab her like a dagger. Verily, I came by a great freshness when - now I was on the right scent of it. This, it was, to lie at the root of - her meaning when she showed me that vine trailing its rich beauties along - the ground, instead of climbing, and said, “I am like that vine.” The - prone and earth-held soul of Eaton offered her no trellis. - </p> - <p> - And so Peg mourned her lost estate of love! And why should she not mourn? - she, thus swindled of a rightful destiny! Peg shone a thing of beauty to - deck a heaven with; and here was she fated to be the jewel in the dulled - head of a toad! Why should her sorrow find rebuke? Born to be the reason - of admiration and to feed on it as a flower feeds on the sun, the irony of - accident had flung her into this chill corner of neglect. And her love was - dying—starving away its life. Peg did not love Eaton; the yoke - galled her—yoking her as it did to one who, while perhaps owning the - affections, the integrity, the loyalty, owned also the low unelevation of - the brute. And for that, Peg would stay behind when Eaton went away and - weep to see him coming. - </p> - <p> - While, with some fondness for the argument—since it would make for - Peg's exoneration—I was moving to these conclusions, it ran abruptly - over me how, during our first talk in the parlors of the Indian Queen, - Peg's eyes would seem to swim in love for Eaton. I recalled her cry of - pain when she feared he might be shamed for her, and how she said she - would sooner die than that. Then, surely, Peg must have loved him; nor had - he changed since then. - </p> - <p> - These memories were sent to baffle me; but with a second thought the - fallacy of such deductions was laid bare. When, in the Indian Queen, Peg - would weep for love of Eaton, she was but the bride of a month. She stood - yet in the haze of the honeymoon, and had been given no frank outline of - her mate. Then he seemed what he should be, not what he was, and Hope, not - Truth, was painter to the picture. - </p> - <p> - Yes, it would walk before me right enough; Eaton had been a lover of gold - to become a husband of brass. Peg was as much wasted on him as though one - put a love verse from Herrick into the hands of a Seminole of the - Everglades. In his arms she was an error—a solecism—a crime—as - it might be, a lily on a muck-heap! - </p> - <p> - These thoughts so played the tyrant with me as to take the pen from - between my fingers; I could do no work, but only sit and stare from the - window while my mind ran away to Peg. - </p> - <p> - Then I resolved to call Peg over; she should adorn her throne at my desk's - end; I would show her how, for all that cloudiness of sensibility on the - part of another, there still lived one on whom her sweet fineness was not - thrown away. I would dispatch her a note by Jim; I would crave her help - for my mails. This should bring her, and be a fair excuse besides, since - it was not the beginning of such requests. Peg had often aided me to get - my letters off. - </p> - <p> - Note in hand and ready, I stepped to the rear of the mansion to summon - Jim. I could hear his high, patronizing tones, evidently employed about - the instruction of the cook. The two were close by a rear door that opened - into the kitchen. - </p> - <p> - “Yassir,” I heard Jim say, “they has black bass in d'Cumberland, shoals - an' shoals of'em. How much you reckon that one weigh?” Apparently they had - a Potomac fish between them to be the basis of discussion. “How much that - weigh? Five pounds? You hyar me, son, we uses that size fish for bait back - in Tennessee. Do Jim ever catch a bigger one? Say; if Jim don't catch a - bass in d'ol' Cumberland that's bigger than a cow, then Jim'll jine - d'church! It was a heap excitin', cotchin' that fish. He grab d'hook; an' - then he jes' nacherally split up an' down d'river like ol' Satan was arter - him for dinner; an' then he done dives. That's whar he leads d'wrong - kyard; for he bump his nose, blim! on d'rock bottom; an' it hurt him so he - jes' turn, an' next he comes lippin' up through d'top of d'water an' goes - soarin' off up into d'air for fifty foot. That's when Jim sees how big he - is. When he gets up into d'atmosphere, he sort o' shuck himse'f, same as - you-all sees a hen waller in d'dust; an', son, you could hear his scales - rattle like shakin' buckshot in a bottle! An' at d'same time, that bass - lams loose a yell folk might nacherally hear a mile, an' which shorely - sounds like d'squall of a soul in torment. You hyar Jim! that bass—” - At this, I broke in on the revelations of our black Munchausen with my - demands. As he turned, I heard him call back: - </p> - <p> - “No, I don't get him; he done bruk d'hook.” - </p> - <p> - Peg and I had been worthily busy with my letters for full ten minutes. She - was, for her, very quiet, almost indeed to the line of a grave sadness, - which after all should be the aftermath of those tears of the day before. - </p> - <p> - If Peg were wordless, I, on my side, sat equally without conversation. We - made tongueless company; but for that very reason went with all the more - earnestness to the letters as though they were the seeds of this silence. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” said Peg, with a suddenness, her hands in her lap. I stared. - “Well?” she repeated. Then, when I said nothing, she would elaborate a - bit. “Well, watch-dog, what would you have? You know these letters were - the merest pretext for me to come.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, then,” said I, made desperate because she snatched away my disguise, - “why, then, I was in a fret to look on you.” - </p> - <p> - “Was it that?” - </p> - <p> - “Sometimes I fear your husband does not wholly understand you.” It took - courage to go thus far; it marked a point mightily forward of any attained - to in former talks. - </p> - <p> - Peg gave me one of those fathomless looks, narrowing her brow whimsically. - My bluntness had not dashed her spirit, at any rate; indeed, it would seem - to have raised it. - </p> - <p> - “You fear my husband does not understand me?” repeated Peg. Now she paused - an endless while, her eyes reading mine like print. I could feel her - searching me for my last promise of expression. “You fear my husband does - not understand me. And is he to be the only one? Is it there the roll-call - ends? If that were true, I might sustain myself.” For all a shadowy, vague - piquancy of brow, Peg got this off wearily enough, and I still prisoner to - her eyes. Now, after a moment, her vivacity would mount a little. “You are - right,” she went on, “I am not much understood.” A smile peeped from the - dimple in her cheek. “What would you think, watch-dog, were I to give - thick folk lessons in myself—expound myself to dunces as your - pedagogue gives lessons in a book?” - </p> - <p> - “The lessons you propose should be marvellously sweet,” said I. Then, with - some tincture of my better courage: “By my soul's hope! I should be sure - to go to school for those lessons.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! do you challenge me?” cried Peg. Now it would be the old Peg. “From - this hour you begin your studies. Life shall be a never-ending lesson, and - Peg the lesson.” - </p> - <p> - “And I a student most diligent.” - </p> - <p> - Peg came and stood close against my shoulder where I sat at the desk. Her - color and her brightness had returned to chase away the shadows. With her - fingers she parted my hair where the frosts of two score years and four - were beginning their blight. She made as though she considered these - ravages of silver. - </p> - <p> - Finally, she spoke to me in a way tenderly good. - </p> - <p> - “Watch-dog, watch-dog, you have eyes in your head and none in your wits. - You are a blind-wit, watch-dog, a blind-wit of no hope. And you would - study Peg? Teach I never so lucidly, study thou never so long, yet - shouldst thou never know Peg, but die in darkness of her.” Peg said this - with a kind of murmur of regret. Then, collecting direction: “How many - times has Peg been with you? And yet you have never seen her—never - once seen Peg. You do not see Peg now while she stands at your shoulder. - You are a blind-wit.” - </p> - <p> - “If I have not seen Peg,” said I, “and if I do not now see Peg, then at - the least my eyes have tasted visions above report.” - </p> - <p> - “Now you speak well,” quoth Peg, with an archness of pretended approval. - </p> - <p> - Here, surely, should be the old, true Peg. It was a delight to listen to - the bantering yet soft tones of her, like walking in the May woods with - their new green and the new blossoms painting the ground about one's feet. - </p> - <p> - “What have I seen, then?” I asked, going back a pace. - </p> - <p> - “What have you seen? A mirage, the mere mirage of Peg—her picture, - sketched on the skies of your ideal.” Then in a playful manner of - correction, as when a girl refuses a compliment: “You have looked upward, - watchdog, when you should have looked down. And now for your first lesson. - This is the text of it: Would you find a woman, keep your eyes on the - ground.” - </p> - <p> - For all Peg's humor of gaiety, I could tell how she was under greatest - strain. Also, there ran an odd current of reproach throughout her words. - It was as though she saw faults in me. - </p> - <p> - “And now,” said I, seeking to focus complaint, “and now, what have I done - or said to hurt?” - </p> - <p> - Peg drew away from my shoulder. I could not see her face, but I felt her - spirit changing from cool to hot in the furnace of some thought. There was - silence for a moment. - </p> - <p> - “What have you done to hurt?” cried Peg, suddenly, breaking into a - wondrous wrath. “Oh, I could die with such a dullard! What have you done? - What is this just-now complaint you conceive against my husband? He does - not understand me, forsooth! You should consider yourself! What have you - done to hurt? You place me too high! You put me out of reach! Oh, I know - of no more dreadful fate than to be forever mistaken for an angel!” That - last came like the cry of a heart in torture. The next moment Peg was gone - and I left gasping. - </p> - <p> - Of what avail to think? As she had said, I was a blundering blind-wit, - and, by me at least, Peg would not be made out. I had declared how Eaton - owned a footless fancy which could not raise itself to realize a goddess. - And now, in my own high superiority, I had come bravely off! I had been - properly paid as one who is churl enough to give a woman a compliment at - the expense of her husband. Was I to suppose my goddess would accept - flattery at the cost of her self-respect? The goddess from her furious - pedestal had denounced me as one who planned for her dishonor. - </p> - <p> - Congress was now come down upon us like a high wind. The town began to rub - its eyes free of those cobwebs of vacation slumbers; the taverns took on a - buzzing life, while the streets, lately so still and lonesome, showed - thickly sown of folk going here and there, for this reason of legislation - or that hunger of office, and with faces gay or sombre as success was - given or denied. - </p> - <p> - Noah was one to be denied. He had come to town somewhat in advance of - Congress. The General brought him quickly to the White House and made him - unpack his budget of gossip. How was Burr? How was Swartout? How fared - Hoyt? Thus ran off the General's curiosity. - </p> - <p> - “All well, all prosperous,” responded Noah, “and the town itself growing - up to weeds of riches. The New York cry is, Money! They revise your friend - Crockett, and, for an aphorism, say, 'Be sure you're rich, then go - ahead.'” - </p> - <p> - The General would have it that Noah must take an office—a - collectorship or some such gear. - </p> - <p> - “The Senate would defeat my confirmation,” said Noah; “first for that I'm - a Jew; and next because of Catron.” - </p> - <p> - “And even so,” returned the General; “it is still worth while to discover - who would do that.” - </p> - <p> - Noah was right, and his name came up to be refused by one vote. Calhoun - from his place as president of the Senate proved as flint against Noah, - while his mouthpiece, Hayne, led the war on the floor. I have yet to look - on more anger than was the General's when the news arrived. - </p> - <p> - “Heed it not,” said Noah, snapping his fingers. “I have still my laughter, - my newspaper, and my Spanish swords.” - </p> - <p> - “But the insult of it!” cried the General. - </p> - <p> - “To the cynic,” said Noah, lightly, “there can come no insult. Your - philosopher who laughs is safe against such whimsies. I shall long remain - both fat of pride and fat of purse for all a Senate may do. You do not - know me; I should have been a Diogenes and insulted Alexanders from my - tub.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun and his coterie brought with them to town their great question of - Nullification. They worked on it incessantly and made a deal of hubbub. - Calhoun set forward his man, Hayne, to the exposition of this policy of - national disintegration. Hayne was met in that debate and overthrown by - the mighty Webster. The country echoed with the strife of these Titans. - </p> - <p> - For himself, the General followed the argument, North against South, word - by word and step by step. He had the debate of each day written off, and - Peg would come over and read it to him while he smoked and pondered and - resolved. - </p> - <p> - About this time I must write down how I was made to feel rebuked and - neglected. Following that unguided reference to her husband, Peg would - seem to have deserted me. My eyes had little of her, and I heard her voice - still less; for while she was often in to gossip with the General, or read - those Senate speeches to him, she gave me only stray, cold glances and - monosyllables. She came no more to my workshop; and day after day I sat - alone while melancholy crept upon me like mosses over stone. I was not so - dense but I could tell how I had offended. Peg was proud; she resented my - suggestion that Eaton lacked appreciation; that was why she flew upon me, - beak and talon, and said it was I who lived in darkness of her. I had been - the wiser had I forgotten those tears of hers so soon as they were dry, - and withstood myself from meddling opinions concerning her lot in life. - Peg's coldness was the proper retort for my impertinence, and I must bear - it even while it broke my heart. - </p> - <p> - It would be the expected thing that I should turn cheerless and be cast - down when now Peg left me with my thoughts alone. I had grown so used to - her about me, and to hear the sweet laugh of her, that it was to miss - something out of my life when she took herself away. And yet it would be - egotism. Folk miss and for a while deplore what has become a piece of - their days—even chains and dungeons, so I've heard. Nor is this due - to any love save self-love. I have often considered, as folk shed tears on - a grave, how they wept for themselves and not for him who slept at their - feet. It was the merest selfishness of habit, this dejection because Peg - would desert me. Her absence would become custom in time, and then, - should' she return, that coming doubtless would irk me just as much. - </p> - <p> - For all my wisdom, however, when now my starved eyes came only by stray, - sparse glimpses of Peg, as I beheld her now and again across in the - President's Square, or when she went by my door on her visits to the - General, my spirit fell to be jaded and vastly lowered. - </p> - <p> - Had I known my way to go about it, I would have sought Peg out and talked - with her freely and in full of what had fallen to be our differences. I - would have acknowledged my error. But I saw no open gate through which to - come by such converse, and I feared with an attempt to plunge bad into - worse. - </p> - <p> - Once, indeed, my resolve was half hatched to gain some plain speech of - her. I lay in wait until, the day being fine, I had sight of her on a - rustic seat over across in the square. She was wrapped in a fur of some - sort—martin, I think—and, with this drawn high about the - throat, it so framed her face as to make her beautiful to the verge of - witchcraft. - </p> - <p> - Seeing how she was near a path, I lounged out of door, and crossing the - road, would make as though to walk by her, casually, and for exercise and - air. It was my plan to greet Peg, and next drift into word with her as in - the old time. The old time! It was not days away, and yet it seemed as - distant as my cradle! I would drift into speech of her, I say, and trust - to fortune and my wit to bring down the explanation I believed might solve - a reconciliation for us. It was a stratagem sagacious enough, but Peg - granted me no chance of its test. - </p> - <p> - Before I could get to Peg, indeed, before I journeyed half the distance, - she arose, careless and contained, as though she had not observed me—albeit - I am sure she had—and would be moving for her own gate. At this I - half halted; and Peg, striking out into a rapid walk, was in a moment the - other side of her door. A little later I saw her standing by a window. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0323.jpg" alt="0323 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0323.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - With Peg's flight I was abashed; it was so sure she wished to dodge me. - Then a kind of anger took me in hand and I started towards her house. I do - not know what was my precise thought in this, or whether I would have gone - forward to lift the great knocker on the panel. As it fell forth, however, - Peg, on seeing me coming, whipped away from the window; with that my heart - would turn all to water and I faced sadly about. - </p> - <p> - Being abroad in the streets, I now went on to walk, and to clear my bosom - of that unhappiness which lay so heavy on it. I walked on and on, with no - clear purpose until the thing to strike my notice was how here before me - sprawled that vine which, on a summer day, Peg characterized for its - wanderings and said it was like her. - </p> - <p> - Why I should go seeking this vine is by no means plain; and yet I must - have owned to some hope of its succor, since I stood long to consider it, - and cast about with my eyes if, by any luck of nature, a stout true tree - stood at hand which might be given it for support. There was none; the - poor vine must live and die unwedded on the loveless ground. - </p> - <p> - Somehow it magnified my sorrow when I could learn no way to help Peg's - vine. But so it abode; there it should lie until the end. And the vine - would seem to realize this, too; for it looked desolate, with leaves - frost-seared and discolored like perished hopes. - </p> - <p> - It can not be said that I was uplifted of my walk, and I returned home, if - the fact must out, more unhappy than on any day since I last looked on the - Cumberland. It is curious, also, that this woe of Peg's coldness towards - me should precipitate itself in wrath upon the General. But thus it did; - for that innocent soldier had but to breathe Peg's name as we sat with our - pipes that night, and all in a setting of conversation most commonplace, - when I was upon him like a panther, snarling demands and clawing for - replies, as to how much more time he expected me to steal from my - plantations to waste upon him and his affairs. - </p> - <p> - To give credit where credit is due, the General kept himself quite steady - under this unexpected fire, and refilled his pipe in confident, unshaken - peace. - </p> - <p> - “My explosive friend,” said the General, “I need make no better answer - than just to turn your question on yourself. You know full well you would - no more leave me than I would leave you. Those growls you give us arise - from a dyspepsia of the imagination. You'll be as right as gold after a - night's sleep.” - </p> - <p> - It was upon me a bit later, as I sat trying to do some letters, that one - secret of my gloom reposed in Peg's great chair, spreading its empty arms - to my eyes each time I raised them from the page. It was that mocking - empty chair to stare my heart out of countenance and give accent to its - dreary emptiness. - </p> - <p> - On the impulse, I swooped as on an enemy and bore it to another room. Then - I felt better; and indeed it was a relief not to be longer taunted of that - chair, which would exult in being vacant and find a triumph by flinging at - me the absence of my Peg. - </p> - <p> - Now the General, while commonly as frank for talk as a cataract, could be, - when he preferred, as inscrutable as the tomb. It pleased him to lock up - his tongue over Nullification; and while I understood his pose, and both - Peg and Noah had heard him tell his thought on that pregnant topic of - state, together with his feeling for Calhoun, folk for a widest part - remained much in the dark. And it was often put and never answered, this - query of what the General's course would be when the last grapple came to - hand. The agitators for Secession were no folk to put to sea wanting - chart, however crude, to display the shores and waters about them. They - resolved to arrive by some knowledge of the General's temper on this dogma - of danger so near the Calhoun heart. - </p> - <p> - In quest of such news, a spy, or perhaps he should be called a scout—the - title is the more honorable—was dispatched to find and mark the - General's position. The General and I were given a foreword by Noah of our - gentleman who would be thus upon a recon-noiter. He came in sight one day, - and fell upon our flank in this fashion. - </p> - <p> - It was an afternoon, crisp and clear; altogether a day proper for middle - autumn rather than the winter of any honest year. I had been out with Noah - and was about my return. As I came up the walk, the General's ramrod form—tall - hat, dark garb, swinging his tasseled walking-stick—emerged from the - mansion's front door. - </p> - <p> - “Turn with me for a short jaunt,” said he. “But first step down to the - stables. I must have a look to my horses. That clumsy rascal, Charlie, let - them run away, and aside from a strain to the horses and a hand's breadth - of hide knocked off the nigh one's shoulder, he broke the wheel of the - coach—my wife's coach, Major; I wouldn't have had it injured for a - world of coaches.” - </p> - <p> - This coach was one of the General's treasures. Well I recall how it was - first brought up the Cumberland years before and rolled ashore at - Nashville. - </p> - <p> - “But it's for her,” observed the General, as I suggested the slimness of - his purse in contrast with the cost of the vehicle; “it's for her. She - shall have a proper carriage to ride in.” - </p> - <p> - “I am more concerned for the coach,” remarked the General, as we went - about the western corner of the mansion on our way towards the stables, - “then for the horses. If she were here now, her whole tender thought would - be of the latter.” - </p> - <p> - The injuries to the carriage were not grievous, and a look of pleased - relief filled the General's eyes. The horses, too, had come well through - their unauthorized dash along the road, and a hostler, skillful of - horse-drugs, gave his word to cure them of every ill received with a quart - of wormwood and vinegar, and a spoonful of tar for the cuts. - </p> - <p> - “Beauties, eh?” said the General, as he admired the sleek gray-dappled - coats with hand and eye. “Beauties, they are indeed! And descended in - direct line from my great horse Truxton. You remember Truxton; that - never-beaten King of the Clover Bottom Course?” - </p> - <p> - Truxton would be recalled easily enough. The more, since it was that fleet - champion's match with the renowned Ploughboy which in part opened way to - the savage duel with Dickenson. - </p> - <p> - Made sure of the safety of his carriage, the General and I turned westward - for a stroll. When we were gone no desperate distance, I was all of a - sudden shouted after in high-pitched tones, though amiable. We faced about - to settle the riddle of the interruption. The calls were from one Rhetz, a - member of the Calhoun inner circle. Being of a friendly diplomacy, this - Rhetz had maintained good relations with the General and myself. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! here we have our friend Rhetz,” exclaimed the General. Rhetz was yet - some distance. While we waited the General made his comment. “He is the - one who should come from Calhoun; my silence on Nullification, as Noah - warned us, has made the Vice-President nervous, and he would feel me out. - I think, Major, and by your leave, I shall clear the business up for them. - Come, now, what say you? Let us run up our Union flag like gallant, hearty - fellows, you and me, and call on the fray. I think, too, I'll give them my - views on Calhoun.” - </p> - <p> - “Would it be wise to declare open war on Calhoun?” - </p> - <p> - “He has for long waged secret war on me,” retorted the General. “No; let - us unmask ourselves and thereby unmask him. It will cripple him and - strengthen us, since the sole chance he has to harm me is to pretend to be - my friend. Moreover, a fierce openness now should serve somewhat to - hamstring the enemy's campaign against Peg.” - </p> - <p> - “I was about to call on you,” said Rhetz, greetings over “and was told at - the door how you were somewhere for a stroll about the grounds.” - </p> - <p> - “What was your concern with me?” asked the General, his manner most - urbane. - </p> - <p> - “No concern at all,” responded the affable Rhetz, “no concern beyond a - friendly regard, Mr. President. I would call only to exhibit my - friendship.” - </p> - <p> - “And that should give me great pleasure,” said the General, casting a - comic side-look towards me. Then, with a plain purpose of helping the - scout to his discoveries: “And what of Congress? I suppose both House and - Senate still heave with the ground-swells of the Webster-Hayne debate.” - </p> - <p> - “There is no end of cloakroom talk,” said Rhetz. “And, by the way, Mr. - President,”—here was a feeler—“there be folk, and your friends - at that, who wonder you are not openly with Calhoun and against Webster - and his Yankees for this principle of States Rights.” Rhetz followed this - last observe with a setting forth of argument bearing for the - Calhoun-Hayne contention. - </p> - <p> - “Beware of metaphysics,” observed the General dryly, turning his gray look - against Rhetz, as that rice-land sophist laid down one by one those - various refinements and abstractions wherewith the Palmetto gentry—the - Cal houns and the Butlers and the Pinckneys and the Haynes—were - blazing the path for Secession; “beware of metaphysics! No good comes of - splitting hairs. A rough-hewn honesty—a turgid frankness—should - be the better road.” The General walked on in silence fora brief space, - Rhetz also silent, feeling himself on the brink of some precipice of the - General's temper, and in no sort eager for a fall. “Sir,” resumed the - General, “let me now set you an example; let me be most open with you, not - only for Nullification, but for your friend, Calhoun. First, then, Calhoun - is not trustworthy. Did he not for years teach me to believe he was my - friend with Monroe, when it was he of all that cabinet who urged my - court-martial for taking Florida and hanging Ambristie and Arbuth-not? - Calhoun was my enemy, sir; he is my enemy now. He would hide the fact, but - it is too late. When I tell you how Calhoun is my enemy, would you still - urge on me this prince of duplicity for a statesman whose word is worth a - following? Calhoun, for a plan or a principle, can not be relied on. He is - congenitally bad, and will propose nothing that is true or high.” Here, as - the General's anger began to tower, he would strike viciously at old - weeds, dead and winter-bitten, which ranked the path we traversed, cutting - them down with his hickory stick as with a saber; Rhetz still silent, - without voice. “There lives but one more trustless than Calhoun—that - arch-rogue Clay. And my friends would show amazement at my failure to be - openly with Calhoun! Also, you say they fear I may follow Webster and his - Yankees. Sir, I know the Yankees; they are a dour, hard brood, who to aid - their interests might not scruple to over-reach. I have yet to hear, - however, they betray their friends, as did Calhoun; I have still to know - they would bargain the downfall of their party, as did Clay. Judas would - have done a no more ebon deed than did that Kentucky renegade when he sold - his soul to Adams for a place. And now am I to take a great doctrine from - such children of deceit? Webster and his Yankees may be centered on - themselves and selfish; doubtless they are. But you may tell Calhoun that - I prefer them as companions of policy before such cozeners as himself and - Clay.” The General's voice here rose like the far high scream of an - osprey. - </p> - <p> - “Calm yourself, General,” I said, in tones which never failed to bring him - to himself. “There is scant need of informing all Washington City of our - opinions.” - </p> - <p> - The General had paused in his walk and taken off that high white hat, deep - girdled of a mourning-band. As he talked he beat this stiff headgear with - his cane until I quite trembled for its integrity. - </p> - <p> - “Calhoun,” went on the General, but with temper more in hand, “claims for - his state the right to annul the law—the right to secede from the - Union. Sir, if we were to walk by this doctrine of Nullification, the - Union would be like a bag open at both ends. No matter where or how you - picked it up the meal would all run out. Tell Calhoun that I shall tie the - bag and save the country.” - </p> - <p> - The General's lean jaws at this last mention of Calhoun closed hard and - iron-fast like a trap, while his nose seemed more beaky and predatory. - Evidently he half scented Calhoun as a prey to come, and would be ready to - swoop on him. - </p> - <p> - “You would seem deeply to hate both Clay and Calhoun, Mr. President,” - Rhetz suggested. Rhetz was somewhat feeble of voice; the General's - outburst had taken his breath. - </p> - <p> - “And it is they rather than their doctrines I loathe,” said the General. - “They creep and crawl and sprawl in ambush, and strike at midnight. They - pretend friendship while plotting one's destruction. I was born to make - war upon their tribe—war to the death.” - </p> - <p> - Rhetz made no protracted stay in such warm company. We did not hinder his - escape, and presently had the advantage of his back. - </p> - <p> - “I should like to see the Calhoun face,” said I, “when Rhetz lays out his - discoveries.” - </p> - <p> - “You observe how they try me,” cried the General, passionately, gazing - after the disappearing Rhetz. “You will witness it! But by the heavens - above us! I'll uphold the law!” - </p> - <p> - “And now,” continued the General, when Rhetz was quite gone away, “having - been so vigorously free with the envoy, I must at once write Calhoun a - letter and say it all over again. I would have talked this to Calhoun - first of all, were I accurately the gentleman of honor; but then he should - not have stirred me with his spy.” - </p> - <p> - The General's letter declaratory of the duplicity of Calhoun was written - and went to the Vice-President the next day. It repeated his words to - Rhetz so far as they were personal to Calhoun, and made a deal of - commotion, I warrant you. The missive exploded in the very heart of - Secession like a hand-grenade. - </p> - <p> - The General and I had turned now; we aimed to be home before dark, and - your midwinter day is not the longest of the year. The sun was still an - hour over the western trees, however, when we found ourselves in the - President's Square. Supper would only come with sundown, since we still - adhered to our Tennessee customs. - </p> - <p> - Having moments to spare, we rested ourselves upon a bench which owned a - thick pine tree at its back. I was the more willing, for we were in close - view from Peg's windows, and I half hoped the sight of the General would - lure her out to us. I was pining for a look into her face, and to hear the - voice of her, sweet as the full note of a harp. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know,” remarked my companion, “I never walk in this square but I - think on the day when the British burned the White House. They halted in - this very park and told off the squad of incendiaries and sent them - across. Mrs. Madison was about to give a dinner, and was fair driven from - the table by the bayonets of the English. I would I'd been here,” he - concluded; “I'd have made it for those visitors another New Orleans. The - lady should have had her dinner if I'd been here.” - </p> - <p> - “The English are good soldiers,” I urged, paying little heed to him, for - my eyes were roving after some flutter of Peg's skirts. - </p> - <p> - “They are marvellously puissant,” he retorted, “when they number two for - one of the enemy.” The General's antipathy for the English was so great he - could never do them justice. “I carry some record of their gallantry - myself,” he continued, as he took off his hat and parted the bristling - hair where the rough welt of a saber-slash proved a refusal to blacken - English boots in the storm-torn years of the Revolution, when the General - was a boy of twelve. “That fixed my opinion of the English,” he said, as - he replaced his hat. “And can you believe it, that scar burned like fire - the day at New Orleans. Also, it has felt better ever since.” - </p> - <p> - “Say what you will of the British,” I insisted—I was turned - obstinate now, seeing no sign of Peg—“they make stubborn soldiers. - Note what they did with Napoleon.” - </p> - <p> - “It was not the English,” responded the General, with heat, “who defeated - Napoleon; it was Paris. He should have done with Paris what the Russian - did with Moscow—burned it, sir; burned it to the ground, and thrown - himself for his support upon the country. So I should have done, and my - country would have sustained me.” - </p> - <p> - The General had been a partisan of the Corsican a score of years before; - in the energy of his present defence, he arose from the seat and started - again for home. I more slowly followed, still hoping the possible - appearance of Peg. - </p> - <p> - As the General rounded a clump of bushes set near the path, he paused - abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “What's this!” he exclaimed. The look of defiance for everything English, - which still made hard his face, changed to one of tenderness and regard. - “What's this!” he repeated. - </p> - <p> - There lay a little negro child, well coated and warm, sound and fast - asleep for all the frost. The General thought no more on Napoleon, the - English, the treachery of Paris, or the disaster of Waterloo. He stooped - and gathered up the sleeping pickaninny in his arms. - </p> - <p> - “He is Augustus' little boy,” he said. “He has tired himself with play. - Augustus should have better watch of the child such weather as this. I'll - put a flea in his careless ear to that effect.” - </p> - <p> - Loaded with the small burden of the sleeping boy, the General led the way - across the grounds. - </p> - <p> - Now when I had ceased to hope for her, a light foot on the sod told me how - Peg was at hand. I verily believe the perverse witch to have been behind a - tree, or hidden of a shrub, and not a score of yards from us during our - whole halt in the square. I would have accosted her, but she brushed by - with a curt bending of the head and not a word, and joined the General - where that chieftain marched ahead with the pickaninny. My heart sank, and - I fell still farther to the rear, more lonely than before Peg came. - </p> - <p> - It was ten minutes later, and when Peg, leaving the General, was on the - turn of setting forth for her own house. I was in my workshop, idle at my - desk, thoughtful with no thoughts, and my heart inexpressibly sad. - </p> - <p> - As Peg would have crossed my door, her glance swept the interior of the - room. With that, she came to a full stop. I looked up with an eagerness to - hear her speak; and thinking, too, that now she would come in, and we two - be the old kind friends again. - </p> - <p> - But instead of kindness, my glance gave me her face, cloudy and - threatening. Also, there were lamps of danger lighted in her eyes. What - new crime had I done? It was clear I stood guilty of some baseness; I read - that much in Peg's frown, and the last poor spark of my hope pinched out. - Never again, whatever the temptation, would I condemn a husband to his - wife. - </p> - <p> - Peg swept into the room while I gazed on her without speaking. If for no - reason save one of politeness, I should have greeted her; but my manners - were quite driven out of my head with wondering what new eggs would here - be toasting on the spit for me. - </p> - <p> - “Where is my chair?” cried Peg, and with a voice as full of wrath as a - coal of fire. Then pointing to where her leathern chair was not: “Where is - my chair, I say?” - </p> - <p> - Stupidly, I looked over beyond my desk where her throne had been in happy - times; but I kept my teeth on my tongue, not willing to have the risk of a - word. - </p> - <p> - “I will have it back!” Peg went on, eye as vicious as a kestrel's, “I will - have it instantly back!” - </p> - <p> - With every headlong dispatch I went after the chair, while Peg walked up - and down as might that leopard who should own those two sharp teeth, the - gleam of which just showed beneath the upper redness of her lip like - points of pearl. When the chair was restored, I turned to her and called - my courage to my shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “And now will you sit down?” said I. - </p> - <p> - “I will not sit there until I choose,” stormed Peg, still up and down. Her - cheek was flame, but with no laughing roguishness of fun; her eyes shone - like mirrors, but not from any interest of amusement. As she went to and - fro, leopard-like, she would have those eyes on me with a questioning - indignation. - </p> - <p> - “So you would thrust my chair out of your room?” said she. - </p> - <p> - Then, as I made no words on it, Peg after a space would for the second - time be about her departure, and I confess, for all my late thirst for her - presence, not a trifle to my relief. A leopard—even a leopard named - Peg—is no good company. - </p> - <p> - When Peg was by the door, she swung round on me. “I will not sit there - until I choose,” she cried again. “But you shall not touch my chair! I - will not have it banished!” With this, she went quite away, while I stayed - to look on the chair which had made the trouble, and now from its old - place would leer victoriously upon me, and mock with a more insulting - emptiness than ever, that doubly vacant heart of mine. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI—THE GENERAL MAKES PROVERBS - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n those few days - next to follow Peg's tantrum of the chair, like those several to precede - it, I was given no more than meager pictures of her. I should perhaps beg - forgiveness for the name “tantrum,” which is a byword or term of slang, - but search as I may, I find nothing so good wherewith to tell the story of - that rootless wrath of Peg's. However, I may say I was at care not to - shift the chair again, but left it to stand waiting for her in accord with - her command. - </p> - <p> - Peg, on the next day after that tantrum, and on every day, would come for - her visit with the General; but each time she so crept by me, whether by - stealth or luck, that I lost notice of her advent, and knew nothing of her - presence until she went past my door when on her way for home. She would - create noise enough with her flight; setting her small feet down in - emphasis and sending a rustle along the hallway with the swirl of her - petticoats, so that I had ample time to raise my head and be on guard for - her. She would nod slightly as she caught my glance, but ever sustained - herself with that distance which she had seen fit to construct between us. - </p> - <p> - When Peg flashed by my door—for, radiant as ever, and with the - motion of a meteor, “flashed” should be the description of it—I was - bound to observe how her look shot straight for her chair like an arrow. - She would be sure it was there, that chair; and I could tell how its - absence would have become the signal for crowning me with so warm a - version of her feelings that I shriveled like October leaves to simply - think on it. But I would meet no risk of the sort, since I did not - entertain the hardihood to invoke it. - </p> - <p> - I say the latter, because sooth it is, that half in anger, half in thought - to bring her in for a talk, I once had it on my mind to send Peg's chair - again into exile. Indeed, I did put it out of the room. But only for a - moment; the wick of my courage burned dim, and I fell to be in utmost - haste to restore that leathern furnishment, breathing the while in a - quick, craven fashion of respiration, lest she surprise me before the - situation was repaired. Thus it stood; the chair and I in the room, and - both desolate, with Peg going each day by like a watchman on his rounds, - to glance in and be assured. - </p> - <p> - These conditions of separation between Peg and myself, as days went on, - would give me less and less of ease. I was forever carrying them on the - ridge of my thought, and they made an unhappy element in life's skyline. I - stood the more in grief, since to be out with little Peg was like a - quarrel with a child; and then, moreover, the fault of it was mine, for I - overstepped an obvious line of right conduct when I went forth upon - Eaton's disparagement. It was a fool's work, besides; for I might have - known she would be sharp to notice and as sharply bound to resent; had she - not already warned me how I disfavored Eaton, and told me I was jealous? - She would say, truly, she did not care for that jealousy; but that was - mere laughter when her fancy was at merriest. Also, she had told how I did - not know her, and never would see her true self; I began now to understand - that she was right. And yet I would have her back, and our old frank - confidence returned; for Peg, as I tell you, was only a child—a - prankish girl when all was in, and it made no more for my credit than for - my peace that we should be at crosses. - </p> - <p> - It stands a thing strangest of all, how differently one will regard - another when the time is this or that. Peg, as I have written, would seem - ever to me the rompish child; for my thoughts of her were forged and - beaten out upon the stithy of those moments when, free and playful and - without restraint, she sat alone with me. By the same token! I recall - another score of moments where the stage was a drawing room and strange - folk framed the scene, and Peg, a beautiful woman of dignity and grave - reserve, would remind one of no child at all. But then she would not be - Peg to me; on such times when this proud, sufficient being made me some - sweeping, stately recognition, and as though I had known her but a day, I - have stood aside to wonder was she that playful leopard Peg whose white - mark I wore on my hand? Was it she to call me “slave” and kiss the mark, - or “watch-dog” and make me a collar with her arms? And still I liked her - thus. I was proud to see her proud; and my bosom would swell to note how - when Peg, fastidious, and with her highbred look, stepped across a room, - she seemed among the women gathered there—and they the Vere de Veres—a - greyhound among poodles, or rather the leopard she was among a troop of - tabbies. These be crude comparisons, surely; yet there comes no other to - so fit with my thoughts of rearward days when Peg moved an empress in the - midst of peasants, at once the envy and despair of rivalry. - </p> - <p> - As I tell you, for all these exhibitions of commanding womanhood, Peg - would continue with me but a child; the image of such ballroom triumphs - were not to remain with me, while the real Peg, the true Peg, the dear Peg - of memory when alone, would ever be the laughing, mocking, hectoring, - teasing Peg on her leathern throne at my desk's end. It is the same with - men; there come such words as play and work, and danger and safety; and - the man you saw on the battle-line, as stern and as brave as Caesar, is - that boy by yonder campfire who now laughs over some tale of personal - chicken-pillage when he fled before a mad old dame armed of a pudding - stick. - </p> - <p> - While Peg and I were on these long-range terms, I went more in hunt of the - General for his company's sake and for conversation. I do not think the - General stood aware of Peg's cold pose towards me, for, as I have urged, - he was no one to see such things; besides, Peg, who showed herself no bad - strategist, would be about me with the friendliness of those days that - were, whenever the General sat by to make a third. Peg held the General in - a best esteem; and then, too, she would be mindful how lately he was ill - and save for her tending might have died, and be the last to vex him with - thoughts of how two so near him and dear upon his sentiment nourished a - feud among themselves. - </p> - <p> - While the General missed the reason of my frequent visits, he no less - relished our talks; for a president, let me inform you, is a mighty idle - man, for all your sycophants and toadies of print would depict him as a - galley slave who breaks his heart against an oar of duty. A president has - little to do beyond fret and fume while affairs go crosswise to his - wishes; also, the General would have him to be a most tied and helpless - creature, besides. - </p> - <p> - “The presidency,” he would say, “when one goes to a last experiment, is - but another word for paralysis.” - </p> - <p> - “And is a president such a thing without hands?” I would ask, for it was - sure he thirsted to lecture. - </p> - <p> - “The office is so much bigger than the man,” he would reply, “that it - controls him, as a mountain might bear down the strongest were you to load - his back with one.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, I had thought a president to be of some consequence,” I would - retort, in a manner of vexing him. “At least I have known presidents to - think so.” - </p> - <p> - “And so thought I,” he would respond, “ten months ago and before - inauguration. Sir, a president is but the fly on the chariot wheel. Being - vain, the insect might flatter himself with a theory that he is the reason - of that dust and motion he observes. But the insect's vanity would be none - the less in error. I say to you, a presidency is a thing of bolts and bars - and locks and fetters. What may a president do? He may say this man shall - keep office and that man shall not, and that would be as important as if - he said this rat shall go overboard and that rat stay to roam the ship. - The vermin fate of these, for black or white, would neither affect a - course nor pick those ports at which the vessel touched.” - </p> - <p> - “But a president may veto a bill,” I would reply, “or make it a law with - his fist. He may bring down a war.” - </p> - <p> - “And yet he is no free agent when he does any of these,” he would return. - “He is pressed upon by one force or another, or mayhap a dozen at once, - and must go with conditions like a man in a landslide. As I say, the - office is so much bigger than the man that it transacts the man, and not - the man the office. It is as though one were made president of the - Potomac, or of a glacier. Could he take the one beyond its banks with a - war or stay the other in its progress with a veto? He might run up a flag, - order a bugle blown, fire a gun; but the river or the glacier would be the - last impressed. No, sir; were one made chief magistrate of that snowstorm - which now whitens the world outside, and set to rule its flakes, he would - be in as much control as when given a White House and told that he is - President.” - </p> - <p> - Mayhap it will interest should I offer a report of one of our afternoons. - It might go as specimen of all, for each was but a strolling here and - there of talk. Our discourse would be hit or miss, like a rag carpet, and - would fall foul of whatever caught the eye or stubbed the toe of fancy at - the moment. - </p> - <p> - On this day, and being weary with the sight of Peg's empty chair, I went - down the hall to the General's workroom and found him with his nose in <i>Tristram - Shandy</i>.' - </p> - <p> - “Do you like your author?” said I. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sir,” said the General, laying aside the book, “he is so grown up to - sedge of phrase and choked of word-weeds as to deny one either the sight - or the taste of the true stream of his story.” - </p> - <p> - “Walpole,” I returned, “said that reading <i>Tristram</i> was to laugh a - moment and yawn an hour.” - </p> - <p> - “Then he had the better of me, since I have done nothing but yawn.” After - a pause: “Peg gave me the book; it was my loyalty to the child that sent - me between its pages. And speaking of Peg: Do you still send her the - roses? I know you do, for I met your Jim on his way to her, buried in - blossoms and looking for all the world like the flower booth in a village - fair.” Here the General lazily reached for his pipe. - </p> - <p> - “And why should she not have the flowers?” I demanded, warmly. - </p> - <p> - “No reason under the sky, sir,” said he, giving me that old glance out of - the falcon eyes of him—to anger me, I suppose—“none under the - sky! Send our pretty Peg the roof off the house should she have a mind for - it.” Then, when now his pipe was going: “Was it not you to recommend a - round, squat, corpulent being named Curtis to be marshal for Tennessee?” - </p> - <p> - “I said he was a good man.” - </p> - <p> - “One might say as much of a pan of dough. The creature is absolutely - without motion; I tried him mentally and physically, so to speak; the man - is stagnant.” - </p> - <p> - “None the less a good man,” I contended. “To do nothing is at least to do - no harm.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, that is as may be,” retorted the General. “I will have nothing to do - with your motionless folk. They are always the worst folk of all. I never - have been in any crush of peril or concern where action was not less - hazardous than inaction, and to do the wrong thing far and away better - than to do nothing at all. Now, this fellow Curtis of yours would not even - talk. He had no more conversation than a catfish.” - </p> - <p> - “Silence is caution,” said I, dogmatically, also reaching down a pipe from - the mantel to keep the General in smoky countenance; “silence is caution, - and caution is ever a good thing.” - </p> - <p> - “Caution is a braggart,” returned the General, argumentatively, “to call - itself a virtue when it is more often a cover for cowardice. Caution has - lost more fights than rashness, you may take a soldier's word for that.” - </p> - <p> - “That is in keeping with your other proverb, 'Never overrate a foe.' Those - be the maxims to get folk killed!” - </p> - <p> - “And why not, so the folk be the enemy? I have beaten twice my strength - because they overrated me.” - </p> - <p> - “Still,” said I, stubbornly, “the crime of silence which you charge upon - this Curtis is no mighty delinquency. Words, as a rule, are a weakness; - and I think Curtis should be marshal.” - </p> - <p> - “Let him be marshal, then, and end it,” returned the General; “but I may - tell you, sir, that words are not a weakness, but a source of strength.” - The General was an indomitable conversationist, and would not be - criticised. “The man who says the most, commonly knows the most, and comes - most often to succeed. Silent folk win only by accident, as he shall see - who retraces any of their victories to its birth.” - </p> - <p> - “And now what nonsense!” cried I. “What wise one said 'Silence is - golden!'?” - </p> - <p> - “Some wise one who wanted the floor for himself, doubtless,” puffed the - General. “Talk is a cloak, and great talk a great cloak to hide one's - movements. It is a common fallacy to suppose that one who talks much—chatters, - we will even call it—tells ever the truth. Now my experience goes - for it that a great talker is misleading you nine-tenths of the time; - heads one way while he talks another. I cannot be sure of the plans or - aims of a great talker. He would seem to point so many ways at once. Your - tongue-tied fellow I read easily. When I once know where he is, and then - remember where he would be, I will readily foresee for you the trail he - means to travel.” - </p> - <p> - “Calhoun is a silent man.” - </p> - <p> - “And Calhoun is a defeated man; his one chance is my death, which I have - no mind shall happen. Calhoun is a silent, but not a secret man. He hides - nothing, and can hide nothing by a still tongue. Who does not know how he - is for Nullification and must live or die by it?” - </p> - <p> - “And you,” said I, “have decided it shall be the latter.” - </p> - <p> - “If Calhoun had not assailed me, and, more, if he had not included Peg's - destruction in his plans—as a soldier might burn a beautiful suburb - for an element of his assault on a city—Calhoun and I would have - come by some agreement. I like the man; but you see he has no gift to be - popular. He makes war on me, which is the least popular thing he could do - and then, to prick me on for bitterest resolution and a strife to the - death, he sets his dogs to baying Peg. Also, let us not forget how he - would drag down Van Buren because he is Peg's friend and mine. Sir, you - and I will one day make Van Buren president for that.” - </p> - <p> - “And you have written Calhoun that letter to be notice of your hate.” - </p> - <p> - “It ties him hand and foot,” said the General. “Were Calhoun Samson, that - letter shears his locks. He will publish it, and make every friend I have - his enemy.” - </p> - <p> - “And you are enough loved by the people to make that a most formidable - condition for Calhoun.” - </p> - <p> - You are to observe that now when I would find the General idle and with an - itch for talk, I trolled him along as folk troll pickerel. It relieved him - to thus unbuckle; more, it helped him form his plans, for so he said - himself. - </p> - <p> - “I am ten fold more loved than Calhoun,” responded the General. “Calhoun, - as I've said, has no gift to be popular. He talks <i>to</i> folk; I talk - <i>with</i> them. Sir, between those words, <i>with</i> and <i>to</i>, - dwells the whole art of popularity.” - </p> - <p> - “Your popularity is growth of your work in the field.” - </p> - <p> - “My being a soldier, had much to do with its beginning. Man is a fighting - animal and loves a fighter. Particularly if he win. Now, were I to advise - one to a short cut for public favor, I would say, 'Be a soldier and win.'” - </p> - <p> - “Especially 'win,'” I returned. - </p> - <p> - “By all means add the 'win' and emphasize it. That is my rede: Be sure to - win. No one is made to explain a victory, no one tries a conqueror; the - error of all errors is the black error of defeat.” - </p> - <p> - “And yet a good man may lose.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, the best man may lose. But you are to consider: When he loses, the - public owes him nothing. A farmer toils like a slave; a drought kills his - crops; is he paid for the corn he does not raise? The public owes the - successful soldier for that profit it takes from his sword; and the public - pays its debts. I won at the Horseshoe, at Pensacola, at New Orleans; and - the public pays me with a White House. Had I lost my battles, I would have - been cashiered a score of times. Calhoun would have succeeded with his - scheme to court-martial me in the Seminole days, save that I was armored - of my victories. I would never agree to less than victory, and that - stubbornness for triumph has even defeated enemies I did not know I had.” - </p> - <p> - “You have had vast success,” said I, judgmatically, “when one remembers - the blindness of your prejudices, and how you will help this one or hurt - that one for a no better reason than love or hate. There is your defect; I - have often wished that to your honesty and ardor you added the just - fairness of Jefferson.” - </p> - <p> - “Jefferson!” This with a snort: “I am a fairer—a more just man than - was Jefferson! He was just to his enemies and unjust to his friends. Now, - I am strong enough to do justice by a friend. It hurts no man with me that - he has been the friend of Andrew Jackson.” - </p> - <p> - “But you can not do justice by a foe. You are all for a foe's - destruction.” - </p> - <p> - “I am all for a foe's defeat. And defeat of a foe is justice to a foe. - 'Woe to the vanquished!' said Brennus, and the barbarian was right. Being - in the field, your business is to conquer.” - </p> - <p> - “You talk like a philosopher,” said I, “but you never feel like one. Here: - I will show you your prejudice in the face! Give me now your estimate of - Clay—of Webster—of Hayne—of Calhoun—of Randolph!” - </p> - <p> - “You think my portraits will be red and black and flame-color.” The - General spoke cunningly. I saw how he had gone sentry over his feeling, - and now I looked for a mild story of those whom I had named. “Webster, - mentally, is strong,” said he, “and willing, like a horse. But, like a - horse, he can not harness himself to a load. There should be those about - to hook the traces and in a measure guide him for his haulings. Compared - with Hayne, whose mentality is slim and graceful as is an elm, Webster is - the oak. He is bigger and stronger without being so beautiful. Besides, - Hayne is indolent, and would sooner drift all day than pull an oar an - hour. That is the reason why Calhoun, who has currents, sweeps Hayne along - for Nullification. Calhoun is simply a good man gone wrong; and, for that - he was bred narrowly and as an aristocrat, he loses time over his dignity. - Also, he does not keep in touch with the detail of his destinies, but - leaves too much to underlings. Thus he is put into the position of him who - attacks a woman—an act without defence, and one most perilous; and, - being in, Calhoun lacks that force needed for his extrication. Randolph is - built like a spear, with his anger the head and his intelligence to be the - shaft of it. He has no morality of thought, and his one virtue is his - contempt for Clay. Randolph was born to be beaten, since he was born to - make a science of hatred and become a specialist of reprisal. Clay is - altogether another story. The man is mean beyond expression. He would be - perilous, but he wants in courage. He has appetites but no principles; he - can attain to a conclusion but not to a conviction. He owns no depth of - mind; he is brilliant in a sheeny, shimmery way, and, being of no - integrity, is no more to be laid hold on, mind you! and held to anything, - than so much water.” - </p> - <p> - “And would you say,” cried I, “that Clay has no convictions?” - </p> - <p> - “No more than has a mirror! Sir, the man will acquiesce, and show you - whatever is set before him like a looking-glass. There is his conviction - for you! It is each time some other man's conviction and wholly outside of - Clay. Remove it from before him; look then into your burnished statesman, - and where is his conviction? Why, sir, when Clay sold himself to Adams, - did it not prove what I say?” - </p> - <p> - The General reeled off these views with, for him, a mighty conservatism - that was a surprise to me; for knowing his headlong, not to say trenchant, - sort, I looked to have him go about his carvings of the portraits of ones - inimical to him with a knife. He would have obliged me, too; but he - observed my thought, and turned cautious to disappoint me. I must concede, - he weighed up these gentry fairly well—he squarely hit them off or - I'm the more mistaken. He was too lenient with Calhoun; Calhoun might have - called off those slanders against Peg which found voice for his - advancement; when he failed of that he became their sponsor. - </p> - <p> - When I went again to my own lair of labor, I found Noah waiting. I had - grown to delight in our cool gentleman of the red hair, the jet eyes, and - the sharp Spanish swords. - </p> - <p> - “And now,” said I, and greeting my visitor, “how runs the world away?” - </p> - <p> - “There are things talked about our taverns,” said Noah, “and the corridors - of Congress, whereof it might be proper the President should hear. The - more, since the conversations have him for their motive.” - </p> - <p> - “Let us journey down the hall and tell him,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “No,” returned Noah; “you may enlighten him later, since there comes no - call for hurry. I dislike to dodge in and out or play hide and seek with a - president; it is not seemly. And the fact that our friend would tolerate, - and might even encourage the familiarity on my personal part, offer best - reasons why I should avoid it.” - </p> - <p> - “You make yourself too modest,” said I. - </p> - <p> - None the less I was touched to admiration with this decent sense of the - proprieties on Noah's part. It stood a pity it found imitation by so few. - </p> - <p> - “What is it to be, then?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “You need not be told,” said Noah, “how the President's note to the - Vice-President, added to Rhetz's report of the White House views on - Nullification, Secession, and kindred hangman topics, has made a flutter. - Your Palmetto folk who plot for Nullification fear the President. Being so - far right, they then step aside for error; they fall to fond imaginings - that, for all his violence of phrase to Rhetz, the President, in return, - fears them. They believe, were he to count their power, he would not dare - them to any last-ditch opposition. Then, too, the leaders are not wholly - satisfied with the Rhetz returns. Thus a situation is framed where some - stronger light on the President's intentions, together with the true news - of those lengths to which he stands ready to go, and whether an ultimate - resort would call for rifles and then the gallows, is deeply to be - desired. And these tavern conversations and talks of the corridors have - for their object the President's development along the lines exhibited.” - </p> - <p> - “And this is highly the natural thing,” said I. “Have our anxious ones - invented any trap wherewith to catch that word they seek?” - </p> - <p> - “They will search for it in this wise,” said Noah; “thus canters the plan: - They look to a day far ahead, but it will be with them in time. They have - settled on Jefferson's birthday to make a test of the President and - discover what he would do should South Carolina, with Calhoun, abrogate a - tariff and defy government in the port of Charleston. The occasion will be - in honor of the Man of Monticello. Jefferson's memory and its graceful - illustration will serve as the cause, ostensible, of that banquet; really, - the affair is to be twisted for Nullification. There will come a score of - toasts; and each to exalt the state at the cost of the nation, and argue - treason holy. The speeches will follow of a piece with the toasts. Calhoun - and his cohorts will crowd the tables; applause will be extant for every - sentiment of disunion; in short, they devise a States Rights gathering - where Nullification and the rebellious spawn of it shall gain a broad - endorsement.” - </p> - <p> - “And where does the General come into their machinations?” - </p> - <p> - “The President will be invited to attend. Should he come, he will be given - the Chair's right hand. The Calhoun folk will read his face while their - toasts of treason are flaunted. They will ask him for a sentiment. They - believe that his courses to come, as he designs them, can not fail to find - disclosure. They hope to gain the measure of his apprehensions. When they - once have the pattern of the President's hopes and fears, and learn his - timid limits, they think those boundaries of safety beyond which - Nullification must not push will be determined.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, if these schemers,” I cried, “own no capital save the General's - timidity, they are indeed in bankrupt case.” - </p> - <p> - “They build on sand,” said Noah. “But that fact of sand is precisely what - they do not know. However, the President may teach then? with what light - he sees fit. Should he decide to prolong their night of doubt, he has but - to stay away.” - </p> - <p> - “And how would our black gentry construe his absence?” - </p> - <p> - “Assuredly they would incline to believe he was afraid.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, then,” cried I, “it might be difficult to say that the General will - or will not attend a gathering of treason scheduled more than three months - away. There is this to be recalled, however; the General has done few - things because he was afraid.” - </p> - <p> - “But it is well,” returned Noah, “to have the President aware of what is - in store. He will own the larger space for preparation. The gathering will - continue a sort of secret for six weeks to come; nor is the traitor color - thereof to be shown until a glass-and-bottle stage. When courage is high - and caution fled, rebellion will be unpacked. You observe how surprise is - arranged for. There will be hawks' eyes to catch the trend of presidential - thought concerning it. There lies open the whole plot for you.” - </p> - <p> - “And many thanks,” said I. “Your warning, as you remark, has the mighty - merit of being early. Rest secure the General will profit by it; he may - even contrive some counter reason for amazement that shall become to our - folk of Secession the very mother of dismay.” - </p> - <p> - When, now, Noah was about to go, he came back from the door with a new - thought. - </p> - <p> - “This on Rivera's word,” said he. “The boy, however, is to be trusted when - he tells merely what he sees and hears, and is not asked to think. There - would seem to be a rough Maryland brood to hang about the tap-rooms—as - many as ten, all told. They belong, so to say it, with that Catron whom we - think of now and then for the pleasure he gave us at Gadsby's. Catron, - somewhat the worse of his sword-arm, is also in town. These ruffians use - your name and mine, and never in a way of praise. Should you go about the - roads of nights, carry an ear for ones to come up behind. Also, walk - warily where corners are dark.” - </p> - <p> - “And you?” said I, laughing at the comic twist with which Noah ornamented - his counsel; “and you? Have you gone upon precautions?” - </p> - <p> - “No more than you see,” said Noah, bringing to light a knife of peculiar - make. “I have no great burden of respect for just one man, however urgent - his irritation or its reason. But a horde, and the members to be of - midnight, hangdog sort, arouses the latent prudence of my race, and I - comfort my nervousness with toys like this.” Here the queer knife made a - flourish. - </p> - <p> - I took the weapon from his hand. It was one of those new knives called a - bowie, and the first in my fingers. There was a buckhorn haft, and the - 9-inch blade showed thick at the back with plenty of steel. This gave it - weight, and it balanced in one's hand like a hatchet, and all sanguine and - hopeful to the feel. - </p> - <p> - “It is a Maryland conception,” said Noah, “and therefore a most fitting - rebuke to what thugs shall come out of that commonwealth on a mission for - one's disaster.” Then, reclaiming the bowie: “The courage of a race - appears in the length of its weapons. The shorter the weapon the hardier - the strain Now, whoever devised that knife had a Norse heart in him; his - instinct was to go close in to his enemy, and comeback covered with - blood.” - </p> - <p> - “And do you believe,” said I, “those fellows of whom Rivera tells were - brought here by that Catron to work a revenge for him?” - </p> - <p> - “They are here by favor of his money, truly,” responded Noah, “as Rivera - overheard them say. And for that revenge you speak of, it will be long ere - Catron works one for himself in person, since his arm has turned dead in - deference to my rapier. He could not so much as point a pistol with it.” - </p> - <p> - These words of Catron and his ruffians did not dwell with me seriously; - they were the sooner thrust out of mind because the General, not a moment - behind Noah's going, came into my room. On hearing of the latter's visit, - he was active at first to call him back. But on another thought, he gave - that up; full of a new notion of concern to Peg, he would have my view of - it. - </p> - <p> - “Now I have a decided humor,” observed the General, throwing himself into - Peg's chair—which was consistent enough since he came upon Peg's - good—“I have grown to a decided humor that Peg shall rout these - carpet Red-sticks who would conspire for her defeat. The more, perhaps, - since the chief—if that be fit title for a lady—is wife of our - Vice-President, and moving, as she sees it, for his interest of politics - against me. Peg must and shall triumph; to lose—aside from what we - might personally feel—would spell nothing short of her destruction. - And a war, mark you, which combed a country of its last of life, would - mean no more for any individual.” - </p> - <p> - “Why then,” I said, “you can not be more deeply set on Peg's success than - I.” - </p> - <p> - “Of a truth, no!” retorted the General, with his shrewd grin; “do not - imagine I had a doubt of it. But here is what I have been turning in my - head for a question. The White House, socially, they tell me, is of - immense consequence. Now, I have decided to endow Peg with this coign of - vantage to be an aid for her plans. For myself, I shall follow Peg's flag; - I shall implicitly take her commands. She shall hold the White House for - her reserve; or have it on either wing; or she may head a charge with it.” - </p> - <p> - “And do you think to surprise me with this?” I returned. “I knew how you - would thus conduct yourself from the beginning.” - </p> - <p> - “I am glad to have been so flattered in your thoughts,” said the General, - dryly. “I may take it you forestalled my action by considering what should - be your own. However, now that we are come by these sage decisions to put - Peg in control of us, I hold it excellent to have her over and learn her - views. Perchance, after all, she may mislike us—these, her - volunteers—and give us our dismissals.” - </p> - <p> - “Shall I send word for her?” I asked. Mighty ready was I for any reason - that should bring Peg walking our way. - </p> - <p> - “It is what I would propose,” said he. “The sooner Peg knows of these, her - troops, the sooner she can sketch her line of battle. Send your Jim; he - has doubtless learned the way to Peg's on those rose errands.” - </p> - <p> - The General's humor would court a risk of being overtaxed with a too much - concern for those roses to Peg. Some day I might ask him to observe as - much, and to seek newer reason for his jesting. There is such a word as - threadbare, but in conjunction with my floral sendings to Peg, which—and - properly—still went on, and his endless references thereunto, the - General would appear to live in ignorance of it. However, I did not - proceed for his enlightenment at this time, but put it off to a more sour - leisure and a cloudier day. - </p> - <p> - Jim was sitting near a hall window, ruefully considering the snow through - the pane. Jim's tropic blood would shrink from winter, and, as though in - sympathy with what were probably his feelings, he crooned in a most dismal - vein:= - </p> - <p> - ```"Rain come wet me, sun come dry me, - </p> - <p> - ```Take keer, white man, don't come nigh - </p> - <p> - `````me."= - </p> - <p> - “Is that another of those inspirations of Polly Hines of the 'Possum - Trot?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Why, no, Marse Major,” said Jim, “It's a good ol' Cumberland ditty jes' - d'same. Jim sings 'em when he's thinkin' of d'folks in Tennessee. It sort - o' he'ps Jim to see 'em. Thar's times when, if Jim sings long enough, - d'folks back thar nacherally seems to rise right up befo' Jim.” - </p> - <p> - “Those are surely advantages,” said I, “and if I thought it might bring me - such fortune, I would strike up a tune for myself. Since you appear to be - in touch with them, tell me what is going on among our people at home.” - </p> - <p> - Jim, with his own color and on a capital made up of a dried snake's head, - the smoke-cured cud of a cow, and the several feet of a rabbit—“a - graveyard rabbit, cotched in d'dark of d'moon,” was Jim's description—set - up, you should understand, for a seer. In a compliant spirit of fun, I was - wont to countenance Jim in these weird assumptions. - </p> - <p> - “Tell me what they do in Tennessee,” I repeated. - </p> - <p> - “Jim's afeerd to try, Marse Major,” said Jim, shaking his head as one who - distrusts his powers. “You-all can see yourse'f, that camped yere as - we-all be, millions an' millions of miles away, tellin' what goes on in - Tennessee aint easy. Under d'most fav'ble conditions, it's what Jim would - call a long shot an' a limb in d'way. An' you hyar Jim! thar aint been no - fav'ble conditions cirklin' round him since ever you turns d'key on that - demijohn. Jim aint got over thinkin' you-all acts plumb hasty about that - demijohn, Marse Major.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, perhaps I did,” said I, “and so far as a dollar will go”—here - I tossed Jim a Mexican—“towards repairing the injury, I am ready to - make amends. Meanwhile you are to take this note where you take the - flowers.” - </p> - <p> - Jim's confidence in Peg had long ago been established, and he was no more - ploughed of those fears which arose to furrow him during our earlier days - at the Indian Queen. He promptly took my note—one which employed the - General's name—and with it the Mexican coin, and went about his - errand. - </p> - <p> - “It's monstrous remark'ble, Marse Major,” said Jim, as he pocketed the - silver, “how money does 'liven an' limber a man up. Now that dollar shore - makes Jim feel as spry as a gray squirrel; it mos' certainly do!” - </p> - <p> - I was not without my alarms for Peg's coming; but when she tripped in upon - the General and myself, it was as balm to my bruised nature to feel on her - part some quick leniency towards me, and a certain tacit sweetness—somewhat - sorrowful, but none the less good—to which I had been alien since - the day I laid those witless strictures upon Eaton for that he was - conceived without a soul. This gentle attitude of Peg's came upon me like - summer weather, touching everything with sunshine, and the hour took on a - sudden pleasant value. Peg could not fail to see the change; and even the - General would be aware of that improvement. - </p> - <p> - “Now you must have brought June in your apron,” said the General, playing - with Peg. “In any event, you have thawed our frigid friend here. He has - been frozen for days, and now you see his face glows like harvest-home.” - </p> - <p> - “If that be true,” laughed Peg—quite her old beautiful laugh, too, - and not a laugh contrived solely for the General, but with a share for me—“if - that be true, I must show more pains to come often, and not make my stay - so short as has been my wont. I did not know that I was such a blessing.” - </p> - <p> - The General would make Peg have her old chair by my desk, which showed me—and - I wondered over it not a little—how he was observant beyond what I - had supposed, to be thus sharp on that small point of where Peg would sit - when in confab with me. When Peg was throned in her old place—and, - to my eyes, she filled the room with a kind of glory—the General - drew up his own chair so as to put us three to be the corners of a - triangle. - </p> - <p> - “We have brought you here,” quoth the General, giving his face a droll - expression by which one might tell him to be in a frame of amiable - lightness, “we have brought you here, the good, thawed Major and I, to - make a despot of you. We draw towards New Year's Day, when our society - Redsticks will start upon the warpath. We desire to put ourselves and our - White House, and all we have besides, in your hands. You have but to - publish your orders, and lo! we carry them out. Being now set to rule over - us, the Major—and I perceive with joy he is quite warmed through—would - crave your commands for him. As for myself, you have had only to lift your - finger to dispose of half my kingdom since ever that day when I lay dying - and you revived me with the name of Calhoun.” - </p> - <p> - When he said this, the General beamed on Peg in his tolerant, paternal - fashion, while for my side I sat silent, yet the happiest one of all, - since I was growing sure and more sure with every moment how my Peg of the - old days had of a truth come back. I would not stop to query how or why; - it was enough to have it so, and the music that went singing in my heart - with this white surprise of joy was near to betraying me into humming a - tune—a burst of harmony, had I been weakly guilty of it, which the - General would have made the material of his mirth for so long a term it - would weary him who sought to measure it. - </p> - <p> - “And I am to order you and your White House up and down in my campaign?” - cried Peg, sparkling forth. - </p> - <p> - “Have I not told you how you are to be a despot?” - </p> - <p> - “And I may have a dinner, a reception, or a dance, or what I will—the - carpets up in the East Room, if I choose?” - </p> - <p> - “Your word shall be as Aladdin magic among us, your very hint a law.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” cried Peg, whose smile was a bright comrade for the - General's, “well, then, now that I am clothed of this high estate, I must - not begin by being rash. Let me consider!” And with that Peg put her - little hand to her brow with such another air of jaunty profundity I would - have clinked down a fortune to have had her on canvas just as she sat—Peg, - in the great chair that but an hour gone was mocking me as my most hateful - enemy, and which now would be the friendliest thing in life. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII—HOW PEG WOULD WEAR THE CORAL. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>his is how I shall - do,” said Peg at last, and after the General and I had waited upon her - small profundity for some space; “this shall be my plan. We will have the - White House for a reserve, then. The day for our cabinet folk to receive - their friends will be Tuesday—the procession begins with the first - Tuesday to follow New Year's Day. Our good little Secretary of State has - suggested, inasmuch as I am to preside for him, that his house and mine be - open only on alternate cabinet days. In short, we will receive together. - On one Tuesday he will be at my house; on the next, when my house is - closed, I will take stand in his drawing room and receive our guests for - him. You know, too, how I am to be the head for what functions occur at - the British and Russian legations and act as Lady of the Mansion for our - friends, the Viscount Vaughn and Baron Krudener. Thus I begin with a - double reception in my house for the good little secretary and myself; - then at Krudener's; then at the good little secretary's; and then with the - English. After that, we commence again at my own home.” - </p> - <p> - “And when do you march my White House upon this desperate field?” demanded - the General, with much gaiety of mien. Peg's vivacious recount of how she - should move her social troops delighted him no little. “In what manner - will I be made of use?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, then,” said Peg, “after the reception at the English house if you - will, you may give me a dinner, with a dance in the big East Room?” This - was spoken in manner dubious and with the lifting inflection of a request. - “Also, though it be much to ask, I could wish mightily for you to come in - person to my reception. It would be a most convincing initial.” - </p> - <p> - “And you doubt my coming?” asked the General, beamingly. - </p> - <p> - “It would be most unusual for a president,” said Peg, shaking warning - head. “The gossips would scarce survive the shock of it.” - </p> - <p> - “My life,” observed the General, in a most satisfied way, “has been made - up of shocks to other folk.” - </p> - <p> - “But you must consider,” urged Peg, “how your appearance in any one's - house would be held a letting down of your dignity. Indeed, in austere - quarters, where the regular is as a god, it would be regarded for a no - slight rent in your robes.” - </p> - <p> - “And yet, child, I shall come.” This the General offered in a manner - indescribably good. “I have been no man of precedent in my time; I care - little for what was, but much for what is presently right. I shall come to - your reception; more, I'll stay until you give me leave to go. If to be in - the house of my friend, or to show him courtesy who has shown me only - favor and good service—if that be to establish a rent in my - presidency, I'll even promise to have it a thing of rags and patches - before ever I am done.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you will come!” exclaimed Peg. “Now shall we go bravely through! - For, you are to know, so much of social concession or countenance is born - of nothing save fear of loss or hope of place, that the herd will collect, - bowing and smiling and shining like the sun, wherever you are known to - be.” - </p> - <p> - “These be, truly, most satisfying maps you draw,” remarked the General, - quizzically, “and yet I do not see how we are to tell when victory is - ours. Now, in war the enemy surrenders or runs away.” - </p> - <p> - “In the <i>salons</i>,” said Peg, laughing at the General's quaint twists, - “triumph turns to the mere question of numbers added to quality. It is a - matter of 'Who?' and 'How many?—a count of carriages to your gate. - But the query of quality is uppermost. Now, your presence at my house will - outweigh the world, should it be so foolish as to gather itself together - against us in the camps of the foe.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you are indeed very safe,” said the General, “since I shall be with - you as I've said. Also, you are to have your dinner and that East Room - ball to follow, on what day you lay the finger of your pretty preference. - Even though I lacked the reason of my affection, I still could do no less - for so beautiful an enemy of Calhoun. But you spoke of Van Buren. How did - our round little friend go about his proposals of those joint receptions? - I have a curiosity as to that argument which should lead him to this - kindly wisdom; for, let me remind you, it is a stratagem worthy of a - Caesar, and one, besides, to smell most humanly of what is honest and - staunch, this phrasing of a situation where your ill-wishers must become - his ill-wishers and his friends take on terms of friendship for you. How - did Van Buren go upon that proposition, child?” - </p> - <p> - “In the oddest way, then,” smiled Peg. “He said that because we were both - of tavern origin, with sires to keep houses of call, and since there might - come proud folk to frown upon us for that, it were a wisest thing, and one - to make for the ease of them and us, to hold ever our receptions in - common. Folk then might come, or stay away, and all with a prodigious - saving of effort, whether of compliment or insult, to every one concerned. - But, of course,” said Peg, at the close, her eye a bit wet, “it was only - his goodness to do this.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, I believe nothing of that sort,” declared the General, stoutly. - “Child, I do not know by what paths you descend to this modest esteem of - yourself, but it in nowise shakes the fact that, with the last of it, you - grace and illustrate and honor the best room you enter or the best arm to - lean on in the land.” - </p> - <p> - Thus spoke the gallant General from his heart; and to me it was like milk - and honey to only hear him. In the finish he turned his eyes my way. - </p> - <p> - “And where be your words in this council?” demanded the General. “Have you - lost the will to speak?” - </p> - <p> - Now, I had kept myself mighty quiet since Peg was come back to her throne. - For one thing, the simple sight of her, and she friendly, was enough to - overflow my cup of happiness; moreover, I owned to some lurking fear of - Peg, and imagined how I had but to open my mouth to set her anger again on - edge. At any rate, no stone could have said less than did I while Peg and - the General held this long parley of the drawing rooms. When now, however, - the General aimed at me direct, I was bound to make return. - </p> - <p> - “Have you no advice for us, then?” repeated the General. “It is not usual - for you to so neglect my welfare. Here you permit me to talk ten minutes - without once telling me fully and wholly just what I should do.” All this - in tones of jesting: “Now you would seem willing that I, and our little - girl, too, should go unguided to destruction rather than unstrap your - wisdom in our cause. Sir, do you call that the truth of a friend?” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps I have no good eyes for these trails,” said I. “Your reception - perils and how to foil them are things I have not studied. I would but - lose you your course were I to lead you.” - </p> - <p> - “Mighty diffident,” quoth the General, “and most suddenly abject! And no - good eyes, say you? Why, then, you could see a church by daylight, I take - it! At the least, you might cheer folk on who propose such deeds of carpet - daring as do our little Peg and I.” - </p> - <p> - With what further raillery the General might have entertained himself I - came not to know, for word was brought to him, at this nick, of ones who - awaited his coming in the cabinet room. As he went away he called back to - Peg, where she still abode in her leathern chair: - </p> - <p> - “Then it is settled and made. I shall be at your reception, to the - grinding shock of gossips and the disorder of my presidential robes; also, - you are to dine and dance in the White House whenever you sweetly will.” - </p> - <p> - “Where should have lodged more kindness for me than I now find here?” - cried Peg, when the General was quite gone forth of the room. Then raising - her warm eyes to mine where I sat wondering, now cold, now hot, would she - go, or would she stay to talk with me, she gazed upon me with a steady, - friendly look, which, for all it lacked of distance or any spirit of - resentment, yet bred within me a feeling of confusion. I knew not how to - meet it, and I could find no word to say. “And now,” said Peg, after a - pause, but very kindly, “let us have a fair moment of friendship. No,” she - went on, stopping me with her hand as I was beginning to stumble forward - upon an apology for my ill words against Eaton, “no; let me talk. You have - no genius of explanation; you would speak only to worsen things. Besides, - you dwell in the same darkness now you ever did.” - </p> - <p> - “And it was to say that,” I interjected, for I was bound to some remark, - “I started to speak. It was to tell you how I had no close knowledge of - your husband and owned no right of information to criticise him.” - </p> - <p> - “Watch-dog!” cried Peg, motioning with little hands for silence, - “watch-dog, will you have done?” - </p> - <p> - There was something of pain and reproach in this to stop me as though I - had been planet-struck. Nor could I determine Peg's feeling, nor catch the - color of it in a least of shade. For the most, I felt amazement, and was - set back by the plain agitation of her, an agitation greater than was to - have been looked for in one who came solely to pardon me those trespasses - against good decent taste. - </p> - <p> - Peg called herself together with a shake of the head that had for one - piquant effect the whipping of her shock of curls about her face, and - leaving them a tangle to fall forward on her shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “Hear me,” went on Peg, brightening, and peering out on me in an arch way - through her curls; “you are guilty of no wrong save the wrong of - incredible dullness. Therefore you are to offer no defence. Even your - dullness should have been a virtue in my eyes, since it spoke only of your - honor, and told of the lofty place I hold in your regard.” Now I could see - how Peg was at least accepting all I had said, and not one part only, and - would give me credit for a compliment to herself, while she refused my - strictures upon Eaton. “Observe, then; I have resolved we two shall be - good friends. Better friends than before, because better to understand one - another. And our trouble was my fault, too, not yours. Nor had I one right - foot to go upon.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, that is the maddest charity of error!” cried I. - </p> - <p> - “It is not, I say,” returned Peg, her eyes beginning to shine with the - first flavor of my opposition. “I say it is not. You had done nothing, - said nothing; while I—why, then I hated you for having eyes of lead. - But we will amend that.” Here Peg turned pleasantly brisk. “We have been - too much abroad with mistakes. We have made you too old and me too young - in our dealings. There shall be a change, and you and I hereafter are to - consider ourselves as folk of even years, each with the other. It is but - right, watchdog, for though you have no learning on that point, it is none - the less true that a woman of twenty-two is very old and very wise, while - a man of forty-four is for his youth and guilelessness, or I should have - said dullness, a creature insupportable. Yes, watch-dog, for your - ignorance you are insupportable; but I forgive you, since it is your only - defect.” And here Peg recovered her old gay smile, and with that my heart - came home again to peace. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I said, when Peg would let me be heard, “I make no secret that I - am over happy with this new prospect of your friendship. It was night - while I thought you would not forgive me my offence.” - </p> - <p> - “Say no more of it,” cried Peg, sharply, putting her fingers in her ears. - At the same time I caught the milky shine of her leopard teeth. “Say no - more, or I shall go back to my anger as a refuge. Speak of something else! - Why did you turn my chair out of door?—my poor chair that had done - no harm!” Peg caressed the arms of it with her palms as though it were - alive and could know and feel her petting. “You did it because you hated - me.” - </p> - <p> - “No, forsooth!” I protested. “Now if I had only hated you it might have - stayed till the fall of doom. But I could not bear the leering, mocking - look of it, and me deserted; it would seem ever to brew for me a cup of - loneliness. And so for that I thrust it from the room.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, then! and that was it!” cried Peg. “There you see, now, I can be a - fool as well as you.” - </p> - <p> - “But why did you avoid me?” I asked, in my turn. “Surely, even for my dull - clumsiness, there was need of no such hard reproof. Come, now, why did you - stay away? And why did you run from me when I went across to the square - that day to beg a word from you?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I hated you,” returned Peg, with a self-satisfied air. “I hate - you now, watchdog, when I pause and think. You had made me suffer, and I - thought to see you suffer in return. And really, watch-dog, you did - suffer; and it pleased me much.” - </p> - <p> - “I had not thought you were made with such a palate for revenge,” said I, - a bit stricken with these words of cruelty. “And yet, if it so pleasure - you to give me pain, why then, go on.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't, watch-dog, don't,” returned Peg, in a voice whimsically between - crying and laughing. “Only a little more of that and you shall have my - tears. But can't you see how your suffering was a most tender compliment? - I declare to you that when I would go by your door, the look of grief to - weigh upon your brow was better to me than a smile. The mere memory of it - would keep my heart warm throughout a winter's day.” - </p> - <p> - “It must indeed be a topsy-turvy nature,” said I, “that finds its pleasure - in the woe of friends.” - </p> - <p> - “No recriminations, watch-dog,” retorted Petif, in a high vein. “If your - dullness have no limits, at the least my patience has. Now where did you - go when I avoided you in the square, and you were too much the coward to - lift the knocker of my door? Fie! such another fawn-heart does not roam - existence! Where did you go, I say?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I would give that vine of yours a tree to clamber on and lift it - off the ground.” - </p> - <p> - “And did you,” demanded Peg, eagerly. “The gods ruled otherwise,” I - returned. “There was no tree to be near or possible for your vine; it must - live and die on the ground.” Peg sat quite still and never a response. As - I looked on her, somewhat with wonder, I concede, two great drops welled - from her eyes and fell down upon her hands. - </p> - <p> - “Now I would like to hear,” said Peg at last, her voice in a twitter of - pain, “does ever one get what one prays for in this world of ours? Would - there be such a word as contentment, now? However, I am glad, watchdog, - your good heart took you to my vine. But let it go; let it all go! Let us - be friends; and if the day can't be for us all sunshine, let us own as few - clouds as we may. Now, we will forget the past, and start our friendship - out anew. We will bring nothing to remind us of days when I was young and - cunning and you were old and dull.” - </p> - <p> - At this, I involuntarily looked for the mark of Peg's leopard tooth, - where, round and white, it stared up at me from my hand. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, yes!” said Peg, softly, “I had forgotten. There is that sign between - us that shall last through time. No, we can never forget.” Then, after - musing a moment: “But we may change the subject and say the worst of it. - You heard me lay out my reception purposes. What do you think of my - plans?” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me first one thing,” said I. “When it was so much pleasure to behold - me in grief for your absence, why, then, did you come back?” That speech - of Peg's was like a dagger in my heart, and I would have her draw it out - with some kindness of explanation. “Why did you come back, then?” - </p> - <p> - “The mere sorrow of it brought me back, watch-dog,” said Peg, and her - words were music in my ear. “It came finally to where I would sooner - suffer than have you suffer. That is the woman nature of me. The sheer - truth is, I've been on my way back to you for days. When I followed you in - the square, it was with a full purpose of taking your arm and walking with - you as in the old time.” - </p> - <p> - “And why didn't you?” - </p> - <p> - “Just as I would have done so, I was caught up in a little swirl of hatred - which carried me away from your side. It didn't last the moment, but by - the time it was gone the chance had taken flight. There is one thing I - should tell you, however; at such a time you must not palter with a - woman.” Peg's tones were uplifted to the pitch severe. “Do you know what - you should have done that day? You should have seized me by the shoulder - as you did that spy who dogged us; you should have stopped me flush and - full. Without excuse or explanation or pretense of remorse for what had - been, you should have made me take your arm. You might have found, had you - so willed it, that for all my high head I would follow you like a dog.” - </p> - <p> - “Take you by the shoulder!” cried I, somewhat aroused to a spirit of - terror. “And that would have been polite, indeed, and the act of a true - gentleman! I can see myself seizing you by the shoulder!” - </p> - <p> - “For all that,” contended Peg, with much candor, “that is what you should - have done. Remember: in treating with a woman, while one <i>should</i> be - a gentleman—your word—one <i>must</i> be a man. There is this, - too, about a woman with the man she would love. She likes warfare but she - does not want to win; victory would only embarass your woman. Her instinct - is rather for protection than to protect, and to find him on whom she - leans weaker than herself might alarm her love into flight. And as for - that politeness you tell of, it is an artifice, like a dress or a house, - and good only within a limit. There be occasions when politeness to a man - is a fair thing thrown away; also, there be occasions when politeness to a - woman is nothing better than a waste of justice. Watch-dog, you should - have pocketed the 'gentleman' for use on a languid day; you should have - been all 'man.' You should have seized me by the shoulder; you should have - made me go or stay, or talk or stand mute, as you willed. It was for that”—and - Peg gave me this gravely, like some confidant Pythoness sure of her - Apollo-inspired word—“it was for that, watch-dog, you were made the - stronger of us two.” - </p> - <p> - Now here was a pretty word of caution! It was as the General once said: - one had only to listen, and lo! one would hear ever the savage stirring - about in Peg. - </p> - <p> - “There is one thing whereof I was cheated,” said I, after a brief silence, - and seeking to give our talk a slighter, if not a direction of more - reason. “You were to give me lessons in yourself. I looked forward to no - little improvement from such good teaching, and when I was made to go - missing it I could feel a plain loss to myself.” - </p> - <p> - “And perhaps now,” observed Peg, with her half-merry glance, “I was giving - you a lesson in Peg for every moment of that frowning time.” Then, as if - in reply to my look of bewilderment: “No, watch-dog I went too fast in - those threats to expound myself. You are in no sort prepared for so - tremendous a course of study.” - </p> - <p> - “Wherein do I lack now?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, you flounder in abyssmal ignorance of yourself. To study another - with a hope of light, one should first own some liberal knowledge of one's - self. To have gone about to teach you that difficult lesson of Peg, you, - who are as unaware of yourself as any bush or tree or tuft of grass, would - have been as truly wise, and a task well worth one's while, as would be a - discussion of Moore with that savage of the woods who has yet to hear of - the alphabet. However, we will rest content with you as you are, oh, - watch-dog! oh, slave of Peg, wearing her mark! The more, for that your - splendid ignorance of both yourself and me has to be its characteristic, a - white, high beauty like unto some snow-capped peak—safe, too, since - inaccessible. And now, because I have stayed long; and because we are good - friends again; and because we will infallibly quarrel should I remain, I - think, watch-dog, I shall go home.” - </p> - <p> - And so Peg went away, singing a little song which was no song but like the - whistle of some thrush, leaving me in a calm of peace; nor did I fail to - remember how Peg's tune, when she departed, was the earliest music upon - her lips since ever she would be in anger with me for those ill opinions - against Eaton. - </p> - <p> - There was no long time given me to think on Peg and her whims of temper, - black and white, for Noah was with me briskly on the tail of her going - away. Noah brought with him that Blair who had come in deference to my - note, to be the rival of Duff Green and organize the <i>Globe</i> as a - death-stab to Duff's <i>Telegraph</i>. I had met Blair before, and liked - him; most of all was he a favorite of the General, for his pen was fed of - fire and the heart of his friendship was like the loyal heart of a dog. In - person, Blair was a slender, sickly man, but with a great head on his - shoulders, and strange feverish eyes that shone like jewels. He was not - unlike the General; only the latter stood vastly taller, and, while Blair - was as some fire to blaze and sparkle and burn, the General would be more - that hurricane of wind, bridled of no man, sweeping flat as a field of - turnips everything to stand in the way. - </p> - <p> - “Here is a delicate question,” said Noah, with his grin of the cynic. “The - department folk will give our friend, Blair, no public printing; it goes - all to Duff. That should be stopped, since your public advertising—I - speak from my place as an editor—is for your newspaper as the breath - in its body.” - </p> - <p> - “And what would you propose by way of cure for that felon perversity of - our folk of the departments who will still send printing to the recreant - Duff?” This I put laughingly, to be abreast of the lightness of Noah. - </p> - <p> - “Surely,” said Blair, speaking with a kind of eagerness natural to him, - and which ran red-hot throughout all he did; “surely, the president must - make no personal interference. Were he to order printing out of one paper - and into another, the opposite side would use it for a club against him to - the last day of his career.” - </p> - <p> - “But there is a way,” said Noah. “We may have advantage of the mean fears - of our folk of place who are ever prompt to read a threat against - themselves. Such egotists do they grow to be that, following a decade of - office holding, it may not so much as thunder but your agitated desk-man - knows it at once for some plot of heaven's hand to snatch him from his - pap.” - </p> - <p> - “How would you approach these fears with an appeal?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “And there could be nothing easier,” quoth Noah, “while missing every word - that might look like an order from the White House. You have but to issue - a request, addressed to each who is in control of any least of printing, - to send to the president with every month a full report of what - advertisements he has dispensed and to what imprints. There you have it in - your claw; after such notice not one line will go to Duff, but all to - Blair. With the one stone you kill two birds; the <i>Telegraph</i> is - destroyed while the <i>Globe</i> in its fortunes is made beyond a chance.” - </p> - <p> - “Your mighty proper suggestion will be adopted,” said I. “The request you - speak of goes forth this very day.” - </p> - <p> - When Blair had departed the scene to look after the daily fortunes of his - paper, Noah and I, as was much and frequently our case, settled to a - mouthful of party gossip. We had not run far, however, when my Jim - appeared with a word from the General to meet him in his personal workshop - on some trivial concern. - </p> - <p> - “D'Marse Gen'ral trees Jim by d'winder,” said that worthy black man, “an' - tells him to ask you-all, Marse Major, to come squanderin' along down to - his room. He allows, d'Marse Gen'ral does, how he's got letters from home - you might like to see.” - </p> - <p> - “And how is your 'Marse Gen'ral'?” said Noah, for “the red-head Jew - gentleman,” as Jim ever referred to him, was fond of making Jim talk. “How - does your 'Marse Gen'ral' carry himself these winter days?” - </p> - <p> - “Mighty toler'ble an' tranquil, thankee, sah!” replied Jim; “mighty - toler'ble an' tranquil. Jim on'y wishes he himse'f was feelin' half so - good. But Jim's got a mis'ry in his back, an' d'rheumatics in his laigs - an' shoulders ontwell he can't but jes' make out to hobble 'round. Yassir; - them rheumatics leaves Jim like a fly in a saucer of m'lasses; he gets - about plumb slow.” - </p> - <p> - Jim furnished a most doleful air to be the frame for this piece of news; - one might have thought him some flame-enveloped martyr. - </p> - <p> - “At any rate,” said Noah, in tones of greatest sympathy, “you are - fortunate, Jim, since now you are an invalid, in having such a kind, - forbearing master as your 'Marse Major' here.” - </p> - <p> - “D'Marse Major aint so mighty bad,” observed Jim, with the face of one who - considers deeply. “Course he has his spells. Thar's times when he's sort - o' amiable, d'Marse Major is; an' then Jim nacherally takes to him like a - honeysuckle to a front porch. Then thar's other days when Jim quits him - an' goes streakin' it for d'tall grass. Them's d'times when d'Marse Major - takes to t'arin' about loose, an' carryin' all befo' him like a b'ar in a - hawg-pen.” - </p> - <p> - Having disposed of the letter which had given the loquacious Jim that - delay required for these important disclosures, I put an end to them by - carrying Noah away to the General's room. He would expostulate and hold - back; but I made him come with me on the plea of how the General had asked - to talk with him of that coming Nullification banquet to be held at the - Indian Queen. - </p> - <p> - “True, he has heard it from me,” said I, “but what then? You know how folk - are. He would hear it from you first-hand.” - </p> - <p> - While I was running over the General's mails from Tennessee, that eminent - person and Noah waded forth into deep and animated converse. - </p> - <p> - “I am rather glad than otherwise,” said the General, lighting the while - the usual friendly pipe, “for that treason dinner our Calhoun clique would - plan. I shall go; should they ask it, I'll even give them a toast. I will - light a torch for them; I would be the last to have it said I let folk go - blundering to a gibbet in the dark.” - </p> - <p> - “You recall,” remarked Noah, “how zealous were certain influences for that - Florida post, and how they would have it go to one Westfall?” - </p> - <p> - “The man Westfall,” retorted the General, “was an utter weakling. He never - would have done for such a place. The Florida governorship is of - consequence; its duties call for one of force. I have thought on a man for - it, but the time has not come. The present incumbent does fairly well for - an Adams selection.” - </p> - <p> - “That weakness of Westfall to which you refer,” said Noah, “was, I take - it, no slight merit in the minds of those who stood by the elbow of his - hope. It was a part of the Nullification scheme, the putting forward of - Westfall.” - </p> - <p> - “In what sort?” asked the General. “I know how Calhoun desired him, for - Duff Green told us so much when we were not a week in town.” - </p> - <p> - “Westfall's success for the place would have linked to the Vice-President - the richest, strongest elements in Pennsylvania. Then there is Florida - itself—two-thirds Spanish and by no means in love with the balance - of this country. With a weak governor in St. Augustine, and one who owed - his crown to our Vice-President, what should be simpler, in the event of - secession in South Carolina, than to count on Floridian men and money for - the venture?” - </p> - <p> - “They will do as well without their Westfall,” commented the General. - “Mayhap they will do better, since had they succeeded for him, it might - hereafter have given their rashness inspiration, and turned them - gallows-ripe. One thing sure: let them once rebel against the law—let - them but rise in Calhoun's state to the law's defiance—and I will - burn them from the earth. They shall be destroyed root and stalk and - standing grass, with the reptiles that crawl between. Their leaders shall - swing for it so surely as my name is Jackson or there's such a word as - 'President' in the land.” - </p> - <p> - Here I come near to the first true social test to be put upon our Peg, and - that, you will know, was the reception which she would give as a cabinet - lady at her own home on the Georgetown side of the President's Square. And - now, when I am driven by stress of this tale to furnish you with a handful - of hints or little twigs of description concerning the business, I write - as though with fetters on my wrists. It is because I have no <i>salon</i> - learning, and was never taught your lessons of chandeliers and wax-lights - and orchestras and tables spread with elegance and palms and flowers and - folk brilliant on evening parade, formidably engaged, each with a part - like people in a play, in bringing off one of those encounters where well - dressed men and women meet to crowd each other and call the trial a - function. If it were to be a battle or even some quiet-lying landscape - with its stretch of river, and a forest to fringe the banks, and mayhap a - mountain chain with its plushy dress of pines to the background, I might - not come on so haltingly. But this, as it were, is to lay a fence of stone—and - that, you are to witness, means a journey full of backaches—to be - here piling one word upon another for the story of a drawing-room three - hours. - </p> - <p> - Van Buren was himself Peg's partner for this reception—his own doors - closed, as Peg explains in rearward pages when she talks with the General. - It would be then, a double reception, and both the State and the War - Departments to stand thereof the social sponsors. - </p> - <p> - Word had crept abroad how the General himself planned a place among the - callers, and at the grave tidings Duff Green, in his paper, was driven to - extremes of frantic ink over the proposed lowering of the presidency to - cabinet levels, which latter the disturbed Duff would seem to think were - common, even if they were not bad. - </p> - <p> - “The White House,” cried Duff, in his shocked columns, “should not be - taken down from that high place of elevation in which our late president - was pleased to leave it.” - </p> - <p> - “Truly, an excellent thought!” observed the General, “to set Adams before - me for a model! Why, man! from his purchase of the rogue Clay down to the - last measure to meet the flourish of his pen and be made a law thereby, I - call it patriotism to turn my back on every position Adams occupied, and - the very essence of right to undo all he did. Me to follow Adams! I should - as soon think of emulating Billy Weatherford and his Creeks.” - </p> - <p> - “But why stand over me,” said I, “with all this arm tossing and - threatening declamation? It is your Duff Green and not I who would thus - drive you to an Adams example.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said the General, somewhat subdued by this thought, “you at least - are here and I must vent myself on some one.” - </p> - <p> - While both the General and I lived in a deal of fog concerning such coils, - neither of us was torn of doubt as to the certainty of Peg's triumph. - Vaughn and Krudener, for the favor of Van Buren, would lead up the - legation folk as bell-sheep lead a flock; the military element was bound - to Peg's chariot-wheel by merest war department bonds; withal, the - General's presence alone would mean a multitude, and that of gaudiest - feather, for it asked no skill of society to know how that same impulse of - self-interest was ever at work to move it, as much as might be said of any - conspiracy of roughest politics. The General as the present source of - things temporal would be courted; and to that sycophantish end your - swarming brood of courtiers would be found tagging at his back though he - were to make a sulphurous pilgrimage and seek the pit itself. - </p> - <p> - There came one thing, however, to rub my fur against the grain; but this - was of the week prior to our Tuesday of Peg's reception. It is the great - marvel how it will ever be the slight affair to ruffle one. I have known a - rascal to crack off his pistol at me for a no better reason than strong - drink; and yet beyond a busy interest to stun him and prevent a return of - his experiment, and so settle safety in my favor, my bosom went as - rippleless of wrath as any millpond. On the other side, the idle whistle - of some fellow, and him outside the house and of no knowledge even of my - being, has sent me off on storms of rage. - </p> - <p> - This it was to nag me into irritation. There arrived one day a mighty - casket of jewels for Peg—diamonds and rubies they were, and ones a - princess might have worn with honor. They were a gift from Eaton; for that - secretary was notably rich and owned the treasure-chests of an emperor. - </p> - <p> - Peg said naught of these trinkets, whether to the General or to me, nor - did she show them. But since they came in from New York, employing for - their safety certain armed guardians of express, the thing could be called - no secret. Moreover, Eaton himself would probably be the last to smother - the story of these chains and bracelets and brooches and coronets and - flashing whatnot, since for what else did he buy them save self-love and - to deck Peg out as one decks out a horse on gala days. That man never - loved Peg; it was a mark of sentiment beyond him. He had a pride of her as - of a gem or a picture, and wore her beauty as one wears a decoration. - </p> - <p> - But he no more knew Peg, no more loved Peg, than cud-cattle know and love - the stars above their stolid heads. Her praise would ring sweet to his - ear, yes; her loveliness and the bright glory of her eyes would lighten - his face. Also, the moon will light you and shine again on the face of - that chance-hollowed mud-hole which the rains have filled and the swine - enjoyed. - </p> - <p> - It is but truth to say that my resentment of these jewels to Peg gave me a - pause of uneasiness. It was not the little fact of their existence which - bayed me; it was not that I went pricked as though by nettles because of - these gewgaws; that was not it. But why should I be pricked at all? Other - folk would bring diamonds to their wives or sweethearts, and you meet none - who owned to less excitement or a colder interest thereover than myself. - Why, then, should these stir my pulse and set my anger to a trot? It were - indeed a thing most passing strange, and one whereof I was bound to find - the bottom if I called myself an honest man. - </p> - <p> - The question of my anger for Peg's jewels hung about me like lead, I tell - you; for to myself I made free confession of that wrath and would hide - nothing of it from my conscience. I was stout to drag myself to the bar, - and to sit in trial over my own heart. Was it love of Peg to move me? The - General had told me how I had been swept away in love for her from the - first; but that was his jest and the bantering humor of him at the time. - Was I in love with Peg? And if not, then wherefore fly to arms for that - Eaton would hang the common gifts of man to wife about her charms and - strive for her delight? That was the question I held before my soul's eyes - and shook it for an answer. - </p> - <p> - In a trice the riddle was replied to; the reasons of my anger unrolled - before me like a scroll. It was not that I loved Peg; it was my certain - sureness how Eaton himself was master of no such true sentiment, nor one - worthy of the word. As I have said, he but held her—being below a - better thought—to adorn his vanity; he would wrap her in his riches - in the vulgarity of a boast. Peg was as the feather to his hat, the jewel - to his hilt; he trapped her in brilliants just as he drunk from cut-glass. - And knowing Peg as I knew her, and with a deep appreciation of her worth, - was it miracle, or must my heart be charged of crime, because my brow - would flush to see her thus abased and set to nurse so gross a - self-esteem? Besides, it fell as a blow upon one's better taste, since to - embellish Peg with such earthenware was indeed to paint a lily and gild - gold. - </p> - <p> - It was true, I so much resented these jewels, and they so bit my feeling - in advance, that I went at wits' end to fish forth some excuse for being - absent from that reception and thus avoid their tawdry splendors. But when - I moved the matter, the General was set like iron that I should go. - </p> - <p> - Were it the General alone to cross my temper for this, I should have run - over him, no doubt, and had my way for it. But next stood Peg in the path. - I no more than breathed a half-suggestion of possible conditions to arise - and keep me from the house, when she glowed on me with a look so gently - pleading that, without waiting for her to speak, I straightway told her I - would come. - </p> - <p> - “And I am glad, watch-dog,” said Peg, simply. “I could give myself no - reason, save a reason that would burn like fire, why you should stay - away.” - </p> - <p> - It should be noted, perhaps, that the magical tale of those gems ran in - and out of the mouth of gossip for prior days, and I doubt not a purpose - to look on them—for the feminine eye is caught with glitter like a - blackbird, which hollow fowl will think of nothing for a week on end save - how to steal a bit of broken glass—brought as many to Peg's - reception as did the presence of the General. - </p> - <p> - And here, being now upon the brink, I fairly ask you what should be the - use of setting forth how the carriages rolled to the gate; and how Peg - stood like some flower beneath the light of a chandelier—for these - receptions were in the evening—with her “good little secretary” by - her side, welcoming the throngs to press forward in her honor? The - Calhouns were not there; and, indeed, the folk from the Vice-President's - own state would be obviously absent. The other cabinet folk—that - Calhoun trio, the ladies Branch and Berrien and Ingham—did not - appear; but then they were upon certain similar receptions of their own.. - However, there came scores to have their places. There were the lion - Webster, the courtly Vaughn, Krudenerwith red heels to his shoes, red - waistcoat, and earrings to his ears, Noah with his black, dangerous eyes, - and a high-caste multitude, besides, from Senate and House and Supreme - Court and Legations, and those two score other lofty lairs of your utter - capital fashion. There arose the never-ceasing gride of carriages as they - came and went incessantly upon the frozen gravel; there crawled the - endless file of hand-shaking folk, the grave and the gay, the young and - the old, the beautiful and the ugly, the good and the bad—this last - since there stood no process of elimination to separate the sheep from the - goats where all who would might come. And Peg went through it with a - sweet, grave grace; and even surly Envy submitted to the verdict of a vast - success and one to fix Peg's standing beyond distrust, and mark itself, - besides, as the hopeless Waterloo of her every last ill-wisher. - </p> - <p> - The General, bright of eye and unbending as a bayonet, was there early to - remain late. - </p> - <p> - “I have enlisted for the campaign,” said he, “and I shall stay while I - hear of one foe to be in the field.” - </p> - <p> - Never had I known him to look better, and the old-time deference wherewith - he would be about Peg so that all might see his regard for her was like a - page from chivalry. - </p> - <p> - And now I must tell a tale on myself, and show how this was to twist into - a happy hour for me and I be harrassed by no sordid hatefulness of those - jewels. I had, for my shame be it told, gone to my place in the line of - calling folk with a reluctance that bound my breast like a rope. I could - scarce breathe for it. The file moved slowly, but I held my head high, - and, being a tall man, looked easily over Peg and did not once rest my - eyes upon her. - </p> - <p> - I would escape the canker of those barbarous rubies and diamonds. - </p> - <p> - It was the tones of a woman, who had Peg by her hand, to rivet my - interest. - </p> - <p> - “Why! where now be those diamonds I heard so much about?” The voice was of - the empty tin-pan kind that tells of society and mighty little else. - “Where be those diamonds? Or was the story false?” - </p> - <p> - Then I heard Peg in cold retort to our she-savage and her coarse greed to - look on diamonds. - </p> - <p> - “Why, I believe I have a few handsful somewhere about the house,” said - Peg. “If it be those you are come to see, I shall have pleasure in - directing you to my maid.” - </p> - <p> - Now when quite close I bent my slow eyes upon our little Peg. There she - stood, a lamp of beauty! and never the sign of your diamonds or rubies - about her—nothing of ornament save a rose my Jim had brought, and - the little coral of my mother's which Peg took from the cabinet on that - summer day. As she offered me her hand, she lifted up her face to mine. - She gave me no word but the red blood showed in her cheek a match for my - coral. Then her eyes fell; and next, with a heart full to foolishness of a - joy that was like a mystery, I passed on to walk the air and join the - General. - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Our victory was measureless,” declared the General, in the stiff manner - of him who makes report, when late that night he and I were about our - inevitable pipes in his room. The General would discuss Peg's reception. - “Sir, it was absolute triumph. Do you know how Peg's function compared - with those of the enemy? 'Quantity and quality' were her words; you - remember that. Do you know on those two points, how our affair compared - with those of Ingham and Berrien and Branch? You do not? Sir, you surprise - me, and you to be a soldier whom I myself taught! Why! how are you to know - when we win or lose if you keep no account of the fight? 'Quantity and - quality,' mark you! that is the test.” The General was in towering spirit - and as exalted of brow as one might wish to see. It was like the real war - to him. “Now,” he went on, “I was of a mind to know results; I took - measures for a count of noses, and a list of your folk who called at those - four cabinet houses to-day. Sir, it may please you to hear that on both - proposals of 'quality and quantity' Peg and you and I overpowered those - Redsticks as ten would overpower one.” - </p> - <p> - The General smoked on in silent satisfaction; I said nothing, my mind - being wholly taken with my coral on Peg's bosom, and never mark of diamond - or ruby for a blemish to the rich beauty of her neck and face and the - cataract of gold-black hair to fall about her shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “Peg is a grand girl!” mused the General. “It is pity, too; she should - have been a man and a soldier. And then the pure taste of her! You have - heard of a peck, more or less, of diamonds which Eaton brought on from the - North? I looked to see them wreathed about Peg's neck or arms or fingers - or wherever heaven meant they should go. And, mind you! not a trace of - them. 'Why,' says our Peg, when I would question her, 'they were of such - wondrous richness I thought it shame to wear them in my own drawing room—and - me no more than a girl—and set them against older, better folk who - would be my guests. It would have been to over-crow them, and as though I - sought to pamper vanity at their cost. Wherefore, in compliment, I would - not wear them, but put them all aside. Now, this bit of coral is better, - since more modest. It was from a sweetheart, and is the one thing I love - best of all the world.' Was there not fineness for you?” demanded the - General. “Was there not magnanimity? What other woman between the poles - could have withstood her hands from those gems? Or who, from mere kindness - and to spare the women about her their own envy, would have thrust them - away to don that coral trifle in their stead? A tavern's daughter, - forsooth! Why, such a spirit would give a grace beyond her title to a - duchess! I know of nothing more good or noble to tell the silken nature of - our little Peg.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII—THE SON OF THE SPANISH BULL-FIGHTER - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>eg's war for - social eminence would now move bravely. The tale of that double reception - with its polite throngs pushing forward ===in honor of her and her “good - little secretary,” and the General's presence thereat, stately yet - deferential, fluttered from lip to lip like some bright bird. And, as such - birds will, the farther it fluttered the brighter it grew. I've told you - how I own no warrant, whether of education or natural trend, to descant on - wax-lights and polished floors and satins; but so far as I might trap the - murmur of folk who should have such matters of gossamer and music on their - tongues' ends, the most guarded decision went to it that Peg's position - had become thereby as surely fixed as the pole-star, and might with as - much safety be observed and steered by whenever any of your blind mariners - of the drawing rooms should lose a course or find himself in deep, strange - waters. - </p> - <p> - Like a great captain who in the wake of victory makes speed to again - strike the enemy while yet the latter is disorganized and before he can - re-collect formation or even hope, Peg was next and swiftly in the field - with that dinner for her glory at the Russian legation, tendered by the - wily Baron Krudener—he of the earrings and the scarlet heels. The - Tartar, as the General called him, zealous for the favor of the General - and Van Buren, was keen to note how a civility done Peg would become a key - to the best good will of both. After Krudener's, came the cabinet - reception at our “good little secretary's,” where Peg would reign; and - since Van Buren lived but a half-dozen houses north from Peg's, it was - hardly to step beyond her own door. Then followed the ball given by the - British with Peg in the place of esteem, and the Viscount Vaughn to lead - Peg forth in the first figure with his own diplomatic hand. - </p> - <p> - Who could have been more delighted than the General with this splendor of - <i>salon</i> success now spread to our pretty Peg's uninterrupted feet, - and that under the jaundiced eyes of her enemies? The General could not be - present at either the “good little secretary's,” the Russian or the - English house; but he was indomitable to hear; and never exquisite, nor - macaroni, nor buck about London town, gave ear of warmer ardor to the - nightly annals of Mayfair than did the General to those stories of Peg's - victories. Who were there and what they did and said, would be his - constant curiosity; and indeed he carried question-putting to the verge of - what stood foppish. - </p> - <p> - “But can't you see, sir,” demanded the General, when I told him how his - heat to trace Peg's skirts through every dance, or learn the calling list - of each reception, would jostle one's better conception of him, “can't you - see that with the world and the law as made, this is the trial of Peg's - standing, and freighted of life or death?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said I, full bluntly; “and if you will have my notion then, I call - these things mere antic matters of apeish trick and chatter, not worth a - man's attention.” - </p> - <p> - “You are a barbarian,” retorted the General, oracularly. “These functions—these - dinners and dances and receptions—are trials by jury where the - repute of folk, peculiarly the repute of women folk, is passed upon. The - verdict in her favor means the world and all for Peg. It is the law.” - </p> - <p> - “And if it be,” said I, “it is but a bad law and a cheap law, and one - whereat I should snap my fingers.” - </p> - <p> - “And yet, sir,” replied the General, “wondrous highly as you hold - yourself, you are not yet grown to be the world. It's Peg's happiness—a - matter of being within the pale, without which she would feel decided - against and spurned. And remember this, sir, while you flourish with your - defiances, that a bad law is none the less a law, with penalty in nowise - to be mollified because of that badness at which you rail. Wherefore I - deem, these drawing-room trinkets of a first weight in Peg's concerns; I - shall know as much of them as I well may, and take my chance of falling in - your graces.” - </p> - <p> - After that, and somewhat in the broader manner of a jest, I would each day - lay out to the General whatever of polite gaities took place the night - before; and while I recited those present, and what they did or said, or - failed to do or say, and particularly when such relation told for Peg, he - would smoke, and listen, and exult, and on occasion comment like unto any - grandmother gossip who still enjoys by second hands those scenes which - long ago her years taught her to desert. - </p> - <p> - These exploits of waxed floors and dinner tables, while the General might - have neither art nor lot therein, drew me along with them—for all I - loved them not—like a magnet. For one thing, I would behold how Peg - fared; and then, the General would have me attend, to the purpose that he - be given their story. - </p> - <p> - It was at the Russian's I was called on to witness the iron steadiness of - Peg—albeit I could have wished the Dutch jade, who offended, a man, - that I might pinch his neck. You must know, then, how the Minister from - the Netherlands was a bloated creature of beer and butter-tub proportions—a - Herr Huygens, he was; and Frau Huygens, his lady—save the mark!—was - as dropsical as he. The latter ungentlewoman would be a waddling, - duck-built cabbage thing of fifty years; and of no little standing for a - money-prudence and strict economy, since while as rich as that commerce of - gin by which her spouse had builded up their fortunes, she owned - celebration for but one frock—a most fantastic garment for color and - flounce like the garb of a clown in a kirmess. - </p> - <p> - At the Krudener dinner, your Frau Huygens, whose place was next to Peg's, - would up and leave her chair immediately she was seated; and all with a - lofty face as of one insulted, and following a great looking of Peg over - through a spying glass. - </p> - <p> - Spurred by this rudeness, Krudener directed a servant to remove the chair - and plate and table furniture of that place. This was swiftly done; and - next, to show his own feeling of the insolence offered under his roof, our - Russian would have the plate and the rest, including the gilt chair, - broken to pieces in one corner of the apartment and thrown upon the blaze - in the vast fireplace. - </p> - <p> - “They have been used by that woman of canals and gin-casks,” explained - Krudener—under his exterior of quiet diplomacy and with his eye on - Van Buren, I could tell how the Muscovite was in a towering rage—“and - I have no servant so low he would now eat off that plate or sit in that - chair. Let them be destroyed, and with them the recollection of the - offence to our fair guest, which throughout my life I shall deplore.” With - this Krudener bowed deeply to Peg. - </p> - <p> - “Since you say so much, Baron,” responded Peg, “I am driven to tell you - that you need have been to no disturbance. I should have remarked that - person's going only for the relief it gave to be free of the nearness of - one so gross.” - </p> - <p> - This our pretty Peg got off in a way of relieved superiority that was - invincible; she lost nothing through the episode, but would gain ground - thereby for her bearing. - </p> - <p> - In my first ill-humor to see this reasonless slight put upon our Peg, I - looked about for the rotund Herr Huygens, with a view, I suppose—although - I remember no clear plan in my angry head at the time—to have his - opinion on the conduct of that wife, since he as her lord would be - responsible. He was not present, nor had he been; it was as well, for I - might have forgotten his sacred character as a Minister and said or done - that which should be a further and more depressing jolt to the - proprieties. - </p> - <p> - The General, when he learned of the business, was even warmer than myself. - He was all for having Van Buren give Herr Huygens his walking papers, and - would scarce listen to less. The “good little secretary,” with Peg, - herself, to aid, won him from his mood to banish the Dutchman and that - offensive Frau. It bred a sharp alarm in the bosom of Herr Huygens, for he - would as soon lay down his life as his post of Minister, over the proud - eminence whereof he gloated much. - </p> - <p> - An incident more to be merry with, and one carrying within itself the - elements of fair reproof, came off in the house of the English. - </p> - <p> - By this time your drawing-room forces had greatly abandoned the - Vice-President's wife and the ladies Berrien, Branch and Ingham, to follow - Peg. Among these, and glittering in the van, shone the vainglorious - Pigeon-breast. It was at the dance of the Viscount Vaughn that - Pigeon-breast, after deeply considering the butter on his bread, made - obviously and obsequiously up to Peg. - </p> - <p> - In his earlier advances I did not see the tinsel fellow or I might have - interposed to dash his good resolves; I was to first know of him in these - bright relations of friendship for our side when I gained a glimpse of him - across the wide ball room where, with Peg's hand held high, and - maintaining a mighty respectful distance between them as though Peg were - majesty itself, he led her through one of those slow dances—more, - indeed, like a promenade than any dance—which had vogue of that - hour. - </p> - <p> - I waited with much irritation until the dance was to its end and Peg at - liberty. I remembered, however, in her defence, that Peg was not aware of - Pigeon-breast for one who had sought her harm. No one had told her of that - splendid long speech to the General when Pigeon-breast chose to represent - “Mrs. Calhoun and the ladies of Washington,” which latter term, under the - scorching fire of Peg's successes, had dwindled to a sour handful scarce - equal to the task of filling a dinner table or constructing a quadrille. - </p> - <p> - “Why should you dance,” said I, when now I had gotten Peg by herself near - a window, “why should you dance with such a coxcomb?” - </p> - <p> - “You mean,” returned Peg, “to tell me that he is no friend. As for that, - I've known him for an ill-wisher and, as far as his frail strength went, - an ill-doer, from the beginning.” - </p> - <p> - “And how would that news come to you?” said I. “Has the rogue said - anything?” - </p> - <p> - “Not so fierce, watch-dog, not so fierce!” whispered Peg. “Folk present - are not cognizant of your mastiff sort and might wonder to learn of it. - Wherefore, go quietly about me with your guardianship.” Peg would be - amused by the energy of my distaste of Pigeon-breast. “The 'rogue' has - said nothing. I knew he was my wrong-wisher from yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “Me?” cried I. “And how should you have had it from me when I have not - breathed of the popinjay's existence?” - </p> - <p> - “How? Why, from your face, where I've been long wont to read much more - than your tongue has ever told.” - </p> - <p> - “What of my face, then?” - </p> - <p> - “And I have wished you might see it! Whoever it was to approach me, I had - but to watch your brow. Was your brow frank, open, friendly: he who came - was a friend. Did you lower and gloom hatefully: he was an enemy who - rapped at the gate. Now you gave this fop the look of a fiend when one day - he would pass us in the square. And so by the light, or rather the - twilight of your frown, I read him.” - </p> - <p> - “All exceeding clever,” said I, half made to laugh by the airy fashion - wherein Peg would toss this off, “all exceeding clever. But it brings me - with interest to my question, why, then, did you honor him with a dance?” - </p> - <p> - “For the same reason,” said Peg, with a look of funny malice, “that an - Indian scalps his foe.” - </p> - <p> - “Now what should that mean?” - </p> - <p> - “Wait and see, oh watch-dog!” - </p> - <p> - It was a bit later when Peg was again by my side. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know why I am back with you?” she asked. “Well, aside from the - profound pleasure of your company, the more profound by contrast with that - of those vapid ones”—here she would include the ball room males with - a sweep of her round arm—“I thought I would scalp my enemy before - your eyes. You have a violent nature, watch-dog, and I reflected how the - exhibition might bring you joy. Since you do not dance, your time must lie - on your hands like iron; I would do somewhat to lighten it.” - </p> - <p> - Before I could ask Peg to unravel the intent of her long speech, - Pigeon-breast was pushing valourously our way. - </p> - <p> - “He comes for a second dance,” said Peg. “See, his name is next on my - card.” - </p> - <p> - “And call you that scalping?” cried I. “At that rate, every man in the - room will compete for your cruelty! Scalping, say you! I wish for the - simple humor of it, a Seminole might hear you.” - </p> - <p> - The truth was I had fallen into a dudgeon with Peg for her notion of - taking a trophy; she would confer heaven on this Pigeon-breast and call it - “scalping!” - </p> - <p> - “I believe,” observed Pigeon-breast, with his nose fairly to the floor, so - deeply would he bow, “I believe I will have the honor of another dance”—here - another bow as lowly louted as the first. - </p> - <p> - As Pigeon-breast resumed the perpendicular, he crooked his gallant arm - invitingly and would lead Peg to her place. - </p> - <p> - But Peg drew back, as much to my bewilderment as that of the - wonder-smitten Pigeon-breast himself, and with a manner coldly polite - said: - </p> - <p> - “There is a mistake, sir; I could have promised you no dance, since I do - not know you.” - </p> - <p> - “Mistake!” gasped Pigeon-breast. - </p> - <p> - “Mistake,” repeated Peg, with, if anything, an access of ice. “I never - before saw you; I could have put you down for no dance. One does not dance - with strangers.” Then to me: “Your arm, if you please.” - </p> - <p> - As I carried Peg away, Pigeon-breast was heard to inarticulately moan and - whine like a high wind in a keyhole. Later I beheld him desperately, in - the refreshment room, drinking strong waters with both hands and as though - he had a fish in his stomach. - </p> - <p> - “And now,” said I to Peg, as we moved away from the crushed Pigeon-breast, - “why were you so bitter? That empty fellow was not worth so much. Besides, - you have shamed him before the town; you hurt him to the heart.” - </p> - <p> - “Hurt him to the vanity,” corrected Peg. “If it be true that nothing dries - more quickly than a woman's tear—and it is true, watch-dog—nothing - cures more quickly than the hurt vanity of a man. That dandy will anon be - as gay as a peacock. However, I would punish him. I have made him an - Ishmael of the drawing-rooms; I have driven him forth from us, and he - cannot return to the others for his apostasy of their cause is known. Did - I not tell you, watch-dog, I was a revengeful woman?” - </p> - <p> - Altogether, I might have wished our Peg had taken another course with - Pigeon-breast. - </p> - <p> - Thus to publicly drum him out of camp was a thought too hardy. However, - Pigeon-breast had wrought for what he received, and I think, too, Peg was - more moved by the audacious fun of the business than any darkling taste to - have a vengeance, for all her word. - </p> - <p> - The General, I am minded, was of my view; it was the frolic of the thing - to carry Peg away. - </p> - <p> - “Peg is young,” quoth the General, amiably; “our Peg is young. What would - you have? She shall be older one day and more upon dignity. What shall - more bound and frisk and play than your scapegrace kitten? And yet what - more gravely decorous than your cat? By Joshua's horn! on the whole, I'm - glad your Pigeon-breast was brought up with a round turn.” - </p> - <p> - It was one afternoon when the General came to me with a request that I - seek out Noah at the Indian Queen and confer with him over the merits of a - gentleman who lusted to hold a certain office. - </p> - <p> - “This individual comes to me well spoken of,” said the General, “and yet I - would know more of him, and that from one who has no axe to be grinded.” - </p> - <p> - While I made ready for my walk to the Indian Queen, the General unpouched - another piece of interesting news. - </p> - <p> - “By the way,” said he, “our Peg has settled on April as a time for that - dinner and ball. She would have had it sooner; but she does not now need - the White House for any direct aid to her arms. She will save it for the - close, and make the affair a sort of celebration.” - </p> - <p> - “It is a good thought,” said I. “It is wiser, since she has won her way - with what should be her own resources, not to subtract from that success - by any full blown movement of the White House upon the scene. Mean folk - would say she could not have come through without you to be her ally.” - </p> - <p> - “And that is my notion, too!” coincided the General. “Peg's position is - complete; the White House now would but divide her glory. We will offer - her our East Room courtesies in April, and let it be for an old-time Roman - triumph as when a victor returns from war. Peg well deserves a triumph; - the Vice-Presidential coterie and all whom it might control have moved - heaven and earth for Peg's disaster and pulled and hauled like common - sailor-folk on any rope to do her harm.” - </p> - <p> - “Does not April,” said I, “mark an unheard-of span for your social season? - I had thought it might end with Lent.” - </p> - <p> - “And so it would,” smiled the General, “if now we were only Federalists - like Adams, and remembered the Church of England as a guide. This, - however, is a Presbyterian administration; wherefore, we shall abide none - of your Lents, but drink and dance and dine as far into spring flowers as - we will.” - </p> - <p> - “Being the earliest instance,” added I, “when to drink and to dance and to - dine were called an evidence of Calvinism.” - </p> - <p> - Noah was pen-employed over certain wisdom which should find subsequent - exposition in his paper. - </p> - <p> - “There are large money influences,” remarked Noah, thoughtfully, when we - had talked a moment, “which have grown alluringly friendly about my - associate, Watson Webb. They are offering a loan to our paper of fifty - thousand dollars. You know”—this with his satirical air—“how - papers are ever in want of a loan. These money folk bank on that to win - us; perhaps, too, they find hope in my being a Jew.” - </p> - <p> - “And what would your associate do?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “To be frank,” returned Noah, “he grants admiring ear to this song of - siren money. I think we shall part company—Webb and I.” - </p> - <p> - “And yet,” said I, with a bent for banter, “you are ever in one kind or - another laying emphasis on your Jewish readiness for gold. Now you see it - is the Jew who can not be moved, while our Gentile, with an eye to the - yellow chance, would not be found so sentimental.” - </p> - <p> - “For all that,” remarked Noah, “the Jew is a profound money hunter. It is - but natural he should be. That cupidity, or, if you prefer, that - gold-greed, has been through centuries developed as his one hope for - safety. In the oppressions which have borne upon him, and which in all - countries save this still bear him down, your Jew has found in money his - last cave of retreat. He might bulwark himself with riches. With others, - gold would mean luxury; with the Jew, it stood for life itself, and to go - wanting it was to be tooth and nail about the digging of his own grave.” - </p> - <p> - “And it is your theory, then,” said I, “that the great need for gold which - for ages was to stare the Jew in the face, became the seed of that genius, - to gather which now the race is heir to?” - </p> - <p> - “Without question,” said Noah. “More; since the Jew has been safe of his - goods and his blood in this land of ours, and the rowels of that great - need no longer lance the flanks of effort and set it to the leap, we rear - a kind of Jew who owns no mighty care for money. I will find you Jews in - our midst who can still be hawks to swoop, but who have no hold to keep. - They will spend you their riches or give them away like water. We shall - yet rear an American Jew who has no skill to get money. Still, going back - to that first thought—for it is worrying my soul like a dog—of - those money influences busy with the enlistment of Webb, I am free to say - that even in his worst hour your Jew would never take a bribe. He would - sell neither his friend nor his principle; those were never Jewish ways of - money-finding.” - </p> - <p> - “Your Jew makes a stout patriot,” said I. “I could want no better American - than a Jew.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, then,” responded Noah, “there be none to whom America means so much. - You, being of the strain of Saxon-Dane, would have justice in England, - welcome in Russia, friendship in France. What would your Jew meet? Your - Jew loves America because he loves himself; he is a patriot since he is a - Jew.” - </p> - <p> - “And yet,” I protested, “it is no question of cool selfishness with your - Jew. He is as spontaneously the patriot as any other. Take Judah Touro: - whose money or whose blood was more at the beck of his country that - January day at New Orleans?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes, that is true,” said Noah. “But you should reflect: patriotism, - like every other emotion—if it be a mother's love for her child—has - ever its first feet in selfishness. That would be the tale of Jew or - Gentile the wide world round. Selfishness seems but a rough, unworthy - root, but from it have flowered art, poetry, science, or what you will. - The lineage of each sentiment of beauty, whether it be the tenderest - charity or that self-sacrifice that lays down its life, begins with - selfishness—that mighty cornerstone of the world.” - </p> - <p> - “Beware of metaphysics,” said I. “That, at least, would be our - matter-of-fact General's caution.” - </p> - <p> - “Who? the President?” Noah laughed. “I will let you in with a secret. - There is only one to be more the sentimentalist than your 'matter-of-fact - General,' and that, my friend, is yourself. However, keeping from the - personal, I would still stand firm to it that selfishness is the beginning - of the virtues. Those better expressions, charity and love, come by its - cultivation just as the generous apple has for its forebear that bitter, - thorny, sour creature, the wild crab. Now, your Jew has been vastly - cultivated”—here came Noah's look of satire—“he has been - ploughed by adversity and harrowed of oppression. Thus farmed, your Jew - will produce those Judah Touros you tell of. There were mates for Touro - throughout our years of revolution. There dwelt but seven hundred families - of Jews in this land when Concord and Lexington and Bunker Hill fell - forth. From Lexington until Cornwallis, those Jews were busy with their - ducats and their blood for freedom. They gave millions. Old Haym Salomon - alone gave six hundred thousand dollars He was the richest of his day; he - died copper poor to the obolary point of groats and farthings. At his end - he said: 'I die broken and in the talons of want; but I die happy since I - have lived to see civil and religious liberty established on this soil.'” - </p> - <p> - Rivera, broad of shoulder, mild of eye, here drew near and made a slight - motion, as one who points with his thumb, towards the tap-room of the - tavern. Noah would seem instantly to understand his wordless satellite. - </p> - <p> - “Come,” said Noah, eagerly, “I can show you those Catron thugs I warned - you against. It may serve you to know their faces.” - </p> - <p> - “I had forgotten to ask,” I returned. “Has any of them gone about to - molest you? I see you still safe.” - </p> - <p> - “It is because I am looked on,” returned Noah, lightly, “as a Jew most - perilous. Those Catron five minutes at Gadsby's did me good service. Also, - since I love quiet, I would have gossip give wings to it how I carry a - knife. The truth is, these caitiff folk mistrust me as a trap of death.” - </p> - <p> - There was a rude group gathered about a table in the bar. The members were - drinking rum from tin measures, and their vivid noses and features much - aflame would not have said the habit was one lately taken up. - </p> - <p> - “Those be our friends,” whispered Noah. “That animal with the shoulders of - a buffalo, the iron jaw, and no forehead to speak of, is a prize-fighter - of renown. He was brought over to be a counter-weight for Rivera. I would - wager, should they come together, that my man beats him to a pumice.” - </p> - <p> - The light in Noah's eyes showed no sloth of appetite for such a battle. - </p> - <p> - The rogues about the table were made uneasy by our presence. We looked - them up and down at no little length, Noah with an eye of rawest - insolence, enough of itself to draw resentment from an image. Noah called - Rivera from where he lounged against the doorpost and held whispered - converse with him touching the fellows, and all in a most apparent way of - insult. But beyond a wrathful growl one might not lure them; they turned - their shifty, evil eyes away, and hastily gulping the rum, shuffled from - the place. - </p> - <p> - “If those ruffians are come to town for a motive of trouble,” said I, “why - do not they go upon their mission? They have been weeks here. Has this - Catron so much money to waste?” - </p> - <p> - “Doubtless Catron has money enough,” replied Noah. “Like yourself, - however, I can not find reason for this stage-wait in the tragedy. I have - tempted them to a rupture with my eye a score of times, but their conduct - was always what you saw.” - </p> - <p> - Noah went with me to the General, to reply to the latter's interest - concerning the ambitious one. - </p> - <p> - “He is wise and brave and true,” said Noah; “that is the worst I know of - him.” - </p> - <p> - “And that should be enough,” said the General, decisively. “What more may - one want than 'wise and brave and true?'” - </p> - <p> - “Then you care only for the man,” said I, “and ask nothing of his - principles of politics?” - </p> - <p> - “Added to those cardinals,” laughed the General, “of 'wise and brave and - true,' one would need but the other virtue of being my friend. When you - say 'principles of politics,' Major, I should know what you mean. Still, - with a now and then Calhoun exception, I am free to say I care only for - your man and nothing for a measure. If it were an election, now, I should - vote for a good man on a bad platform rather than a bad man on a good - platform.” - </p> - <p> - “And why?” asked Noah. “For myself, I am not so sure.” - </p> - <p> - “You will turn sure,” replied the General, “if you but pause and recall - your own experience. Measures are like batteries aboard ship. It is ever - the man behind the measure, as it is the man behind the gun. If he be - 'wise and brave and true,' good. If he be otherwise;—why, hang him - and have you another man.” - </p> - <p> - As I was returning alone to my workshop, I overheard the voices of Peg and - Jim within the room. - </p> - <p> - “An' so, Miss Peg,” Jim was saying, “as soon as ever your mammy gives Jim - d'message an' that mouthful of whiskey, Jim shore lights out for you. - Honey, Jim comes that fas', Jim does, he jes' natcherally leaves things on - both sides of d'road. Your mammy's plumb sick, an' thar aint no sort o' - doubt of it. Plumbago is what Jim allows it is.” - </p> - <p> - “My mother is ill,” said Peg, when I came in. “I sent your Jim down to get - word from her. She wants me, and I would ask you to go with me to her if I - dared.” - </p> - <p> - “That should call for no desperate courage,” said I. - </p> - <p> - The deep snows had been melting for many days, and, while the ground was - now quite bare, it lay wet as a sponge, and the roads not to be thought of - for horses. Peg's mother, however, lived but a little mile distant, and - our way would lie through woodland for the most, with paths to wind in and - out among the trees. These walks, being grassy, would do well enough for - folk afoot. - </p> - <p> - “We must walk,” said Peg, “and since that be the order, I must go back for - stronger boots to fend against this wet.” - </p> - <p> - When Peg returned from her own home and we would be setting forth, it was - six years off her age to merely see her. For what mud and water we might - meet, Peg had donned thick-soled, high-laced boots, and with these, and - skirts cut short to match her boots, Peg appeared not an hour older than - sixteen. - </p> - <p> - “You look like a schoolgirl,” said I, in comment. “You will be now more - than ever the child with me.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis a good uniform to walk in,” said Peg, “and to balk mire and water.” - </p> - <p> - Peg's mother was in no strait of weakened health more than stood proper - with her days. But she was grown peevish and with nerves on edge to see - her daughter; for since rout and dinner and reception made such claim on - Peg, she had not visited the good old lady as often as was her wont. - </p> - <p> - And now when we were there, the old mother would hear no soon word for our - departure; we must stay to supper; Peg should cook for us, she said. - </p> - <p> - It was not without surprise that I observed how this command to turn - herself a cook would fit with Peg's temper like a glove. In the first, Peg - hung upon uncertainties; the paths were bad, there were mire and pool. But - when told that she should cook for me, her face brightened and she was - instantly moved to recall that a great moon would shine and so put those - night-dangers of pool and mire to rest. - </p> - <p> - So patent stood Peg's satisfaction in her new duties that, as she would - heap and heap again my plate—scarce eating a morsel herself—I - was driven to ask reason. - </p> - <p> - “And you don't know?” said Peg, pausing with a new-baked tin of - light-bread in her little hands—these latter white with flour. “It - is because this is the first natural woman thing I've done for months. You - may be very sure, watch-dog, whenever you see me bowing and scraping at a - reception, or dismissing some Pigeon-breast from my royal presence at a - ball, that I would give the stockings off my feet to be busy about a - fireplace instead, and cooking bread and meat for you. You see, I am so - much more the woman than the lady. There is my defect.” - </p> - <p> - “And was it that,” said I, attacking a second steak with the fury of a - farm-hand, while Peg glowed to see me dispatch it, “was it that to teach - you to warn me I must be a man rather than a gentleman when I dealt with - you?” - </p> - <p> - “Now I shouldn't wonder,” replied Peg, going for more coffee. - </p> - <p> - This kitchen mood of Peg's—and somehow I liked it as much as ever - she did—and her word for it how she preferred cookery to balls, set - me to put questions as we twined along our path among the trees on - homeward journey. The night, as Peg foretold when she so favored - supper-getting, was full of a white radiance that one might read print by, - for the air was as clear as glass and the moon both big and round. - </p> - <p> - “You were speaking as one weary,” said I, “of dance and reception, and - declared how you would sooner cook. Now that puts me in a fog; I should - have supposed you the happiest, as you should be the proudest, woman in - the world.” - </p> - <p> - “I said I would sooner cook for you,” said Peg. “You are uncouth enough to - forget that part. Or perhaps, now it was your timidity. I am proud enough, - doubtless; but why, watch-dog, should you think me happy?” - </p> - <p> - “Is it not reason enough,” returned I, “that you have stifled your - enemies, and stand on the last summit of our society?” - </p> - <p> - “I am happy only as it makes my friends happy,” returned Peg; “the good - General and yourself. I would not, for my own part, waste one moment on - it.” - </p> - <p> - “I can not understand,” said I. “That I should love nothing of - drawing-rooms does not amaze me; the day is on in middle life with me and - I've seen too much of grass and sky to now care for floors and frescoes. - But for a woman:—I should have said her joy would be there.” - </p> - <p> - “Watch-dog, I am too much the woman,” said Peg; “or, since you may better - understand, I'm too much the savage. I've climbed the social mountain. I - stand on its summit; there is nowhere higher. And yet what will it all - mean?” - </p> - <p> - “What will it not mean?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Watch-dog, I'll tell you what it will not mean.” Peg spoke in a tone of - tired earnestness. “It will not mean sympathy or love or trust. Society, - as we've agreed, is like a mountain. And like a mountain, you find less - and less of vegetation as you climb—fewer of the green, good virtues - that stand so thickly rank in the poor valleys below. As you climb, it - would turn ever barer and colder; and at the last no virtues—nothing - but lichens and livid mosses. We are at the summit, watch-dog. And now - what find we other than the dead cold snow? You have told me I stand on - the social summit; you see I keep repeating. Do you know now what it is in - my heart to do? There lies no peril of a slip; I have too much the sure - foot of the ibex. Do you know what I am moved to do?—me on my high - snow social peak? Why, then, dash myself into that common valley far - below.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, that is not our Peg who speaks,” cried I, not a trifle put about by - Peg's Alpine parables. “It is the talk of a tongue and means mere - wildness.” - </p> - <p> - “And that is it, watch-dog,” returned Peg, in a way of mourning. “I am not - tame; I am like the wild things that will not bear a cage. Now here; see - how strange I am. I do not like women; I will not trust one with a word; I - must watch myself to treat them with a fair face. Then I am all to talk - and go about with men. I should have been born one of those Indian girls - of whom you told me. A campfire and a petticoat of buckskin, a wigwam and - a husband—big and broad like you, watch-dog—to fight and to - hunt for me; that would be my dream.” - </p> - <p> - There arose a rough laugh, and if my ears were true, a rum-sodden laugh. I - turned my head, and there, a hundred yards to our rear, came rolling and - stumbling the drunken crew whom Noah had been at pains to show me in the - Indian Queen. Over my shoulder I watched them for a moment. They were in - sottish glee, and would shout, and now and then troll a bar or two of some - pot-house ballad. - </p> - <p> - My nature was on watch in a moment; I suspected how these ruffians would - be after us. We were in a lonely strip of trees, and no folk near the spot - but just ourselves—a safe theatre for villainy. I counted our - roaring drunkards; there were eleven, and among them I could pick out the - yard-wide shoulders of that gladiator to whom Noah had pointed. - </p> - <p> - Peg, as well as I, could see these creatures coming; but then she had not - my news, and would only know them for roysterers returning from some - drinking bout. I glanced at Peg; her face was bright and free, and for all - her late lamentations over society and its dead cold wastes of proper - snow, mighty wide awake and vivacious. I never beheld her more brisk; in - the white moonlight her picture shone out as clear as day. - </p> - <p> - Peg was on my right arm. I began to go more slowly so that those who - followed should overtake us, and to push a little off the path to the - right, for I would have Peg out of the midst of them when trouble fell. - </p> - <p> - As I would loiter and go with a slower foot, the eleven behind quickened - their step. They came on, roaring and jesting among themselves; not - together, but by twos and threes, and straggling along the path like - geese. I think it was their plan to push ahead of Peg and me and bar our - way; for they went lumbering and lurching by, making a rude joke to toss - from tongue to tongue, but no one to so much as look on us direct until - the last one came up. He would be lagging behind for a purpose, too, since - he was gone on no more than a yard ahead of Peg and myself when he sings - out to his fellows with an oath: - </p> - <p> - “D'ye see whom we have here? Why, here is our big lover and his light o' - love—no less!” - </p> - <p> - With that, stepping before Peg, I seized the scoundrel with my left hand. - It was his arm above the elbow I took hold on, and a soft snick like a - snapping of the clay stem of a pipe, and the grotesque way in which the - hand dangled, palm outward, showed me how I had broken the bone. - </p> - <p> - The creature's scream brought the others to his rescue. That was no loss, - for it would have been their plan from the first to return and fall upon - me. As they came on in a blundering file, whirling forth oaths, I took the - one in my hand with a grip about his middle. Heaving him over my head, I - dashed him at the others as they drew near. The villain would do - beautifully as a projectile, too, for he mowed down three like a - chain-shot, his boot making a fine gash in the face of one of them. - </p> - <p> - On the point of going forward to meet the others, I was stayed by a shout, - loud and musical, yet much like the muffled roar of some deep-lunged - animal. Then came one from the the rear with the speed of an arrow at top - flight. In the moonlight I could tell him for Rivera the son of that - Spanish bull-fighter, running like a stag. He flashed by me; and the next - moment he struck one of the roughs with his fist. It was a hammer-like - blow, and that one who would stop it fell with the crash of a tree. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV.—THE FEDERAL UNION: IT MUST BE PRESERVED. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>oubtless, since my - very palms itched to be about that employment, I would have had my hands - on others of the rogue crew, but I was granted no chance. Rivera poured - himself against the scoundrels like a torrent. Quick, catlike, springing - in and out, he smote upon two of them as with a poleaxe, and they went to - the grass like folk of wood. The sound of the blows came to my ears as - clearly as the click of balls in a billiard game. Beholding the - thunderbolt work of Rivera, the others, losing courage, and with a concert - of curses and growling cries, turned tail and ran. - </p> - <p> - There was one, however, of those who were yet upon their ignoble feet, to - save himself this disgrace. When the rest ran off crying among the trees, - this man would tarry; he was that wide-shouldered fighting man who was - thought to match Rivera. For reasons of his own, and perhaps they were in - a rude sort chivalric and to his credit, this fellow had not rushed upon - us with the others, but stood at some distance looking on, arms folded - across his chest. Now, when all were down or vanished in the dark, he, - with arms still folded, came slowly towards Rivera. - </p> - <p> - “Volks tells me, lad,” said the fighting man as, arms still at peace, he - paused within a few yards of Rivera, who would be coolly waiting for him, - “volks tells me as 'ow you be summat of a boxer; and vor a certainty, you - does make beef of them coves in a vorkmanlike vay—you does, upon my - davy! But now, d'ye see, you settles vith me—me, Jim Burns of - W'itechapel.” - </p> - <p> - “Assuredly!” returned Rivera, and his deep tones, like the roll of an - organ, would carry the impression of one in wondrous good humor, “I shall - be most pleased to settle with you. See, you may take your time; there is - no hurry.” - </p> - <p> - The other, who seemed to have faith in the leisurely mood of Rivera, - softly doffed coat and waistcoat, and stood in his shirt of gray cloth, - trousers and shoes. Rivera similarly prepared himself; he would meet his - enemy in the same light costume. - </p> - <p> - “Best to turn up your trowsers, lad,” advised the fighting man, “as I - does. They may 'inder your veet, else, in steppin'.” - </p> - <p> - When these improvements had been wrought, the fighting man's thought would - double a new corner. - </p> - <p> - “And yet,” he remarked, complainingly, “w'at's the bloomin' use? 'Ere's - them coves all run away”—pointing to the last of the trio whom - Rivera had beaten down, as that unworthy staggered to his feet and lurched - off into the darkness—“an' no purse nor nothink to vight for. I sees - no use, lad, in our puttin' hup our 'ands.” This last in a grieved tone. - </p> - <p> - “But you must fight,” remonstrated Rivera, in a sharp, eager fashion. “You - came to this town to beat me. Will you now let yourself be stopped and - never a blow? Are you afraid?” - </p> - <p> - “Me, afeerd?” retorted the fighting man, fiercely, his little eyes like - sparks. “W'y, lad! th' cove doant stan' in leather as I'm afeerd on. Me, a - fourteen stoner, leery? An' of only one? Well, I likes that!” The disgust - of the fighting man was unmistakable. - </p> - <p> - It was a queer position, this waiting to be spectator of a fist duel - between these game-some ones, but I did not feel free to leave until the - thing should end. When the fighting man, arms crossed, came pacifically - up, I would have been for going forward to lay hold on him, but Rivera, - with a manner like a prayer and as he who seeks a favor for his soul, - besought me to withstay my hand. - </p> - <p> - “Don't,” pleaded Rivera, but never taking his gaze from the man, “don't; - he is mine.” - </p> - <p> - With that, giving over whatever of right I may have owned to the fellow, I - went to Peg where she stood on a little knoll among the deeper shadows of - the woods. - </p> - <p> - “I should take you to safety at once,” said I, in explanation of my - loitering lack of expedition, “but I would see Rivera through this.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not want to go,” replied Peg, gazing the while as with a kind of - fascination. - </p> - <p> - Peg's face wore a flush of excitement; this I could tell even in the - shadows, and her words had a great ring of interest. I did not remark on - the strangeness of it, nor frame a rebuke for that she should love to look - on while gladiators fought. I, myself,—for I confess to a mighty - lust of strife,—was hot to see what might follow, and it came to me - as quite the thing that Peg should share my feeling. It was the savage in - her blood, as the General would have said; but, a trifle strung of the - fracas and with the wolf in me at full stretch, I felt no amazement, but - only sympathy for Peg's sentiment. - </p> - <p> - As Peg and I stood considering the others in their words and motions, - Rivera pointed to a level, glady spot where no trees grew and the - moonlight came down in a white flood. - </p> - <p> - “That should be a fine place,” said Rivera to the fighting man, “for us to - try each other?” - </p> - <p> - “It does look a tidy bit of grass,” assented the fighting man. - </p> - <p> - As the two walked forward to this turfy spot of fairness it brought them - nearer to Peg and myself, and squarely under our eyes. It was as though - they set a stage, and would produce their drama of blows for us and in - such wise that we should not lose the least of it. - </p> - <p> - As the pair moved to the selected place, that moaning one whose arm I had - broken, and who, when the rest had fled, still lay in a fit of fainting, - so far recovered as to sit weakly up. But he could not yet walk, being - shaken and dizzy mayhap, and so he, too, would be a looker on, albeit I do - not think he was to see much, being taken with his own woes and groaning - over them. - </p> - <p> - “W'at a come-down is this!” exclaimed the fighting man, as he moved into - the center of the ground, “me, who should be champion, vighting by - moonlight in a vorest vith a mad Yankee! W'at a tale to tell in - W'itechapel!” - </p> - <p> - “I'm not a Yankee,” said Rivera, as if for the other's consolation, I - thought, “I'm an Irish-Jew.” - </p> - <p> - “An Irish-Jew!” returned the other, with a note of admiration. “Now that's - better, lad; Irish on Jew makes a bitter cross for the ring. But all the - same, it's a shame vor me to be 'ere millin' by moonlight in voreign - parts, an' never no purse nor ropes nor nothink, an' no 'igh toby blokes - to referee or even 'old a vatch. An' me, mind you, as should be champion.” - </p> - <p> - “Why do you say that?” asked Rivera, in a hunger of boyish curiosity to - know how honorable the conquest was he went about. “Of what should you be - champion?” - </p> - <p> - “Hengland, lad, w'at else!” said the other. “It's all on account of an - accident that I beant. I vights vith Big Tom Brown of Bridgenorth, I does; - an' Tom, 'e naps it on the bugle so 'ard 'e's all vor bleedin' to death. - An' vith that, the beaks is vor puttin' me on a transport to go to New - South Wales, when I moseys down to Bristol an' goes aboard ship an' comes - over 'ere. If I could 'ave stayed at 'ome, I'd a-beat Bendigo by now, an' - been the champion 'stead of 'e. 'Owever, volks must do the best vith w'at - they has, so hup vith your mauleys, lad. Time!” - </p> - <p> - More than once I had seen our rough keel-boatmen of the Cumberland - indulge, when soaked of rum, in what they termed a “rough and tumble,” but - this, when Rivera and the fighting man of Whitechapel stood up to one - another, was the first time I was to observe how ones trained to - fisticuffs expound the game. My keel-boatmen fought in a biting, clawing, - gouging, wildcat way that was a climax of brutality and blood. This would - not be the story of Rivera and his foe, for their labors were as cleanly - accurate as a cameo, while yet the blows they dealt would have shaken an - oak to its core. - </p> - <p> - As the fighting man of Whitechapel exclaimed “Time!” Rivera and he drew - cautiously over to one another. I could see how each kept his left hand - well forward and his left foot advanced to bear it company, while the - right foot was planted with firm squareness, and no spring nor give to the - knee, but the leg stiff to prop against a blow. The right arm would be - used, too, more as a guard to save the body, but with hand in reserve - clenched like iron to deal a finishing blow whenever the vanguard or left - hand had opened the way with the enemy. - </p> - <p> - Rivera and the fighting man sparred carefully and as folk who would test - each other. And yet, while there abode with each a wealth of care and a - saving determination to be sure of guards and parries, there was no - slowness. They paced about and before one another like two fighting - panthers, each as ready as leven-flash to have advantage of a weakness in - the other's defence. - </p> - <p> - To me it was like a picture of motion, and a sense of delight coursed in - my veins. I was so held, too, I did not once cast my eyes on Peg, who with - her hand on my arm was crowded snug to my side and—as I remembered - later, when I would learn the reason of pain for it—leaning upon me - with all her slight weight. No, so rapt was my gaze for the moment that I - never once looked nor thought on Peg; and that, let me tell you, is a deal - to say, since such was our witch-child's sweet hold on me I could number - you few moments which did not find her in the fond foreground of my fancy. - </p> - <p> - Of the suddenest, the fighting man fell upon Rivera like a storm. But it - would be of no avail. The blows he dealt, Rivera caught upon his forearm; - and that with so careless a confidence it would appear to sting the other. - In the last of the melee the fighting man, stepping swiftly near, struck a - slashing, swinging blow that should have cracked a skull had one gotten in - the way. Rivera leaped back, light as a goat and as sure. As the big fist - swept harmlessly on its journey, Rivera laughed as at a jest. - </p> - <p> - Our fighting man, however, would own to no turn for humor. The laugh hurt - him like the lash of a rawhide. Without pause or space, and with a - sharpness that stood a marvel in one so bulky, he repeated the smashing - swing, but with the other hand. Rivera did not spring backward; indeed, he - had no time, even had he carried the inclination. But it would be all one - with Noah's protege, for he ducked his head like a wild fowl who dives - from the flash of a gun. Again the blow passed without scathe; only, this - time, over Rivera's cunning head. The force of the swing half turned the - fighting man; with that, and not striking him, but, as though in a spirit - of derision, pushing with open hand, and at the same moment locking, as - wrestlers would say, the enemy's ankle at the back with his foot, Rivera - tumbled our huge gentleman over on the grass. He fell a-sprawl, but with - no hurt to himself, and all as easy as delivering a bale of goods at one's - door. - </p> - <p> - The fighting man got slowly to his feet. Then he looked on Rivera with an - eye of puzzled discontent. - </p> - <p> - “Be you playin' vith me, lad?” said he at last. This in a manner of - injury. - </p> - <p> - Rivera made no retort other than his quiet laugh that told rather of - pleasure than amusement. Clearly, Rivera was in enjoyment's very heart and - his cup would come to him crowned of high delight. - </p> - <p> - The fighting man went now and leaned against a tree to breathe himself. - Presently he spoke again; I could tell by the way of it how his regard for - Rivera had been augmented. - </p> - <p> - “'Ow 'eavy be you, lad?” he asked, his breath still coming in short, deep - puffs. - </p> - <p> - “One hundred and eighty-two,” said Rivera. - </p> - <p> - “An' w'at would that be in stone?” - </p> - <p> - “Thirteen.” - </p> - <p> - “D'ye see now!” exclaimed the fighting man, dejectedly, “an' that should - be my veight. Only I'm a stone above; but it's fat an' does me 'arm. You - bees a 'ard un, young master, an' I doant know as 'ow I can do vor you, - an' me not trained. 'Owever, I shall try all I knows. Time!” - </p> - <p> - For the second occasion the two stood forth against one another in the - middle of the moonlighted glade; and again the fighting man was the - aggressor. It would be still the same old tale; Rivera foiled him and beat - him back upon himself at every angle of his effort. It was like, a tune to - simply see Rivera for his eye and hand and foot worked all together in a - fashion of harmony like the notes in music. - </p> - <p> - But the dour end was on its way, and it fell upon the victim like the - bursting of a bomb. The fighting man had stepped a pace backward following - a rally in which he won nothing save chagrin. As he retreated, Rivera - would seem to swoop on him. It was a feint—an artifice; it had for - result, however, the drawing of the fighting man again upon Rivera. - Straight from his shoulder, and by way of retort or counter to the feint, - the fighting man sent his left hand for Rivera's face. It would be the - situation wrought for. Rivera, with feet firm set, moved his head aside so - that the blow met nothing, but whistled across his left shoulder. Then his - left hand, arm as stiff as a bar of iron, met the oncoming foe, carried - forward with the momentum of his own wasted blow, flush in the mouth. I - heard the sound of it, and saw it jolt the other's head back as though he - had run against the pole of a baggage wagon. The vicious emphasis of it - shook his senses in their source; before he could rally, Rivera dealt him - a smashing blow above the heart with his right hand; it was a buffet like - the kick of a pony and one that would have splintered a rock! - </p> - <p> - The fighting man fell forward senseless on the grass; the moonlight played - across his face and tiny streams of blood were running thinly from his - nose and ears. He lay without motion or quiver, and, after considering him - a bit with all the warmth an artist might bestow upon a masterpiece, - Rivera turned loungingly to Peg and myself where we were viewing - proceedings from our knoll. There was a dancing light in Rivera's eyes - such as comes to a child pleased of a new toy. As he stood before us, a - smile about his mouth, he stretched upward on his toes, and raised his - hands above his head, his vast chest arching and swelling the while like a - drum, and the muscles of his neck writhing until they fairly burst the - collar of his gray shirt and sent a button buzzing into the darkness. - </p> - <p> - “He wasn't fit,” said Rivera, recovering himself from the - muscle-stretching, and beaming amiably; “the fellow was not in condition.” - Here he indicated with a nod the prostrate fighting man, still stunned and - bleeding where he fell. - </p> - <p> - “Have you killed him?” said Peg, with a deep breath. The girl was drawn as - tense as harpstrings. “I hope he will not die.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no,” declared Rivera; “he will not die. In two minutes, or at the - most in ten, he will be well again. If he do not come to his wits in ten - minutes, I shall help him with water on his face.” - </p> - <p> - “We have to thank you,” said I; “you are a brave fellow to match yourself - against a horde.” - </p> - <p> - “I was told always to follow them,” said Rivera. “I have been at their - heels for weeks. But they would do nothing until to-night.” Rivera's - manner when he related the long-drawn indolence of his quarry and those - weeks wherein they would “do nothing,” tasted of disappointment. - “However,”—this as though a wrong had been repaired,—“they got - to work at last, so after all it ends right.” - </p> - <p> - Now I walked across to my moaning one of the broken arm, who still sat - nursing his injuries. - </p> - <p> - “Why would you rob us?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Rob you?” he repeated between moans, and with a startled air. “No one - wanted to rob you.” - </p> - <p> - “You and your gang,” said I—for this was the story I meant to tell, - if made to tell one of the night's turmoil—“you and your gang are - footpads. You would have robbed us. Should you be in the town to-morrow, I - will find you a place of bars and bolts.” - </p> - <p> - Certainly, these brawling creatures were not highwaymen, but only ruffians - whom that Catron had hired for I know not what particular purpose of - revenge. But the wretch's exclamation, “Here is our big lover and his - light o' love!” alarmed me for Peg. I would not have that tale told to - thus bring forth her name. It were better to drive these fellows off and - have an end of it. That was my thought in calling them footpads and - talking of attempts to take a purse. - </p> - <p> - The argument of robbery put a measure of life into the moaning one; he got - upon his feet and made ready to betake himself to scenes of better safety. - </p> - <p> - “My arm is broken,” said he, whiningly, and as hoping I might feel a - sympathy. - </p> - <p> - “It should have been your neck, instead,” said I, in no wise sympathetic. - “And so it would, had I owned the forethought to have had you by the - throat rather than your arm. You might better depart, sirrah; else I may - yet wring round your head, for my spirit is hard laid siege to by some - such twisting impulse.” - </p> - <p> - That was enough; our moaning one made shift to get himself away through - the trees and with not a trifle of expedition. - </p> - <p> - “And now, what will you do?” I asked Rivera. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I shall remain here,” replied Rivera, simply, “and wait for him to - return to his wits,” Here he pointed to his enemy. “He is a very bold, - strong man, and perhaps when he has recovered and rested he may want to - fight again.” This last sentence was vibrant of a dim hope. - </p> - <p> - Turning from me, Rivera brought a little snow-water in his hat from a - hollow where it had collected during the thaws and began to sprinkle the - face of his fighting friend from Whitechapel. Leaving him upon these - labors of grace and philanthropy—albeit I believe the thought - uppermost in his innocent heart was that the smitten one, when duly - revived, might declare for another battle—I again sought Peg. I went - to her something stricken of my conscience and uneasy with the fear of - having neglected my duties as her cavalier. I found her sitting upon the - little knoll, her foot drawn under her, and she nursing her right ankle in - a marked peculiar way. - </p> - <p> - “Was not Rivera grand!” exclaimed Peg, as I came up. “And you, too, - watch-dog: I shall never forget the picture of you”—Peg spoke in a - bubbling way and as though she overflowed of ecstasy—“as you flung - that crying creature in the faces of the others. It was a moment of - nobility; I shall never miss it from my memory.” - </p> - <p> - “And what has gone wrong with your foot?” said I, for from her crouching - position and the manner in which she would caress her ankle I was struck - with the fear of some disaster; nor was I wrong. - </p> - <p> - “It is my ankle,” said Peg, and I could notice how her brow was wrung with - the pain of it. “As I climbed upon this knoll in the first of it, my foot - turned under me. I did not observe until just now how sharp was the - injury.” - </p> - <p> - That was the story; Peg's ankle, for all her strong high boots, had won to - a grievous wrench. - </p> - <p> - “Now that I've nothing else to think on,” said Peg, biting her lips to - smother a cry, “it gives me torture like a knife.” - </p> - <p> - “Your ankle,” said I, “is becoming swollen; and that in those tight-laced - boots, let me say, should mean a torment of the inquisition.” - </p> - <p> - My years in the field had made me deft of strains and bruises and, when - need pressed, even broken bones and wounds more threatening. I straightway - knelt down before Peg and began with care to make loose her footgear. What - a little boot it was! “One and one-half” was the size, so Peg told me. I - slipped the boot off with mighty tenderness and put it in the pocket of my - coat. - </p> - <p> - “And I'm very proud of my small foot, watch-dog,” said Peg, a smile - struggling with the lines of pain which pinched the corners of her mouth. - “Yes, I am proud of my small foot. Why not? It came to me from that same - wareroom of nature where you got your great heart and that arm of might, - and where the good General found his honesty and his courage. I've as much - right to be proud of my foot as you folk of those attributes of excellence - I've named.” - </p> - <p> - Peg was striving to laugh down her pain with these compliments for her - foot; I could tell, moreover, that she was a far cry from success, for her - pretty argument ended in a halfsob as a pang more than commonly severe - crushed her poor ankle in its vise. - </p> - <p> - Gently I chafed Peg's foot; and while that would do little good, it served - to soothe and modify the instant agony. Meanwhile I told her how I would - carry her home in my arms so soon as the first grief of the sprain was - chafed away. - </p> - <p> - “Carry me in your arms!” cried Peg. - </p> - <p> - “What else?” said I. “You can't walk.” - </p> - <p> - So, then, Peg made no more demur; and presently, when her foot was well - enough, I lifted her and started through the woods. It would be no more - than just carrying a child; and since Peg put her arm about my neck, and - helped to keep her place, my own arms even failed of the full burden of - her. It was an easy task at any rate, and if you will be told it, a sweet - task, too; this walk with Peg held close, and her hair, which had been - caught up with a comb, to fall down and sweep across my throat and face. I - could taste a fragrance in that hair like a breath from the Isles of Spice—a - perfume that fair set my bosom in a flame. - </p> - <p> - It might have been the half of a mile that I carried Peg; however, I had - no knowledge of it, whether for the distance or the time, but only of a - bliss that was like a radiance, and a heart-willingness to go on and on - and on to the world's end. - </p> - <p> - It was Peg herself who at last would bring me to my senses; for I was - pressing forward as void of speculation as a drunken man to march through - the crowded avenues of the town, Peg on my breast and my two arms holding - her tight like a treasure. - </p> - <p> - “Put me down, watch-dog,” whispered Peg, for her mouth was at the very - door of my ear, “put me down. I can stand well enough. Have me down, and - let us wait here until we can call a carriage. It would be a perplexing - sight to quiet folk were you to go striding through the streets with such - a burden.” - </p> - <p> - With a sigh to end so dear a toil, I had Peg down carefully; and there she - stood, and as she would say it, “like a chicken on one foot.” It fell our - luck that one of those carriages of public livery, whereof there was - plentiful store in the town, drove by about this time. I called to it, and - placing Peg therein, soon had her at her own door. - </p> - <p> - “I am mighty sorry for the sprain,” said I, as I lifted Peg from the - carriage. - </p> - <p> - “Are you?” quoth Peg, with an archness that would almost cloak the pain. - “Now is that gallant of you, watch-dog?” Then, making a mock of my words - and manner: “I am mighty glad for the sprain. Only, I could wish my mother - lived farther away. I never knew how close she was till now.” - </p> - <p> - As the winter wore into spring, the talk to swell and grow was of - Nullification. Calhoun's state of South Carolina had laid aside disguise, - and while nothing worse than speeches, with now and then a doughty - resolution, were indulged in, these showed ever of that rebellious sort - that waited only to be turned into action to become sufficient treason. - The General sat brooding and watching the drift; his plans of men and - rifles and ships laid like a trap, and set to snap up in the jaws of them - the first traitor to be afoot for that secession the Calhoun clique would - claim was each state's holy right. Altogether, the days were on a strain, - and hair turned white and folk went pale of the cheek with the worry of - the question “How will this ferment end?” - </p> - <p> - The one query of most concern related to the General. What would he do? To - what line would his resentment travel? Folk knew how he was against - Secession and States Rights and Nullification, or whatever the name might - be wherewith iniquitous rebellion pleased itself for the moment, but would - he treat these sins of politics as stark treason? Would he fall back on - courts and hangman's ropes in dealing with them? - </p> - <p> - No one might tell. The General, after he made himself plain with that - Rhetz who came to spy out his resolves, would say no farther word. Ones in - interest might go wrong or go right; as for the General himself, he would - light no more lamps. - </p> - <p> - “Have I not told them what I will do?” cried the General. “Must I be out - of my bed o' nights to tell them again? No; let these would-be - treason-mongers proceed as they see their way. Besides, to hang the right - man now may save the lives of later thousands.” - </p> - <p> - This was said for my ear alone; to no other would the General so much as - give one look of yea or nay. - </p> - <p> - While the General would be the sphinx over Nullification, prudent - rebellionists argued for a waiting strategy. There would dawn the - anniversary of Jefferson's birthday; there would come that dinner at the - Indian Queen; the General's conduct if not his words on that occasion must - surely tell his story of decision. Should he remain away, they would know - he feared to face them. Should he be present, they would try him with - toasts of treason and mark his manner under fire. They would ask him for a - sentiment; what he said or did in retort might give them every needed - glimpse. Decidedly, it was wise to wait; Secession would keep; in the name - of one's neck and a rope, proceedings might better be stayed until those - toast experiments on the General were given a chance. - </p> - <p> - The General was well enough pleased with this uncertainty whereof he now - found himself the hub. He guarded his words, left every man to grope out - his own path for himself, and the days coursed on with the unanswered - question of the General's determination in their mouths. Thus dwelt the - business on that day of April from the developments whereof so much was to - be hoped. - </p> - <p> - For the prior space of eight weeks or more the General had said little to - me of that banquet planned of nullifiers to uncover him on those topics of - perilous statecraft. Seeing his taste to be mysterious, I would say - nothing to the General, whether to ask a question or give a hint of - conduct, but left him to himself. I knew what he would do; and for the - detail of how he would go upon its execution, I was the more willing to - miss a forecast of it since I have a weakness for the unknown and am as - prone as any other to save up surprise for myself. Wherefore, I would have - the General make his own maps and design his own ambuscades, and leave me - in blindness of them. On that April morning I owned no sure knowledge that - the General would even attend the banquet, to say naught of what he might - do or say if ever he once were there. - </p> - <p> - It was the middle of the afternoon when the General looked into my - workshop, pipe in mouth, and said with a twinkle in his eye, a twinkle - that was both mirthful and hard: “Major, I take it you and I will go to - that dinner to-night?” - </p> - <p> - The General would put this as though it were a question; not because it - stood unsettled and unsaid as a thing resolved, but it was the way of him - when he would pay you a compliment to pretend a consultation, and coax you - into a council, hoping you would advise those things he was already - resolved upon like iron and which were often half performed. - </p> - <p> - For all I was aware of this talent on the General's part to be polite, and - was certain, when he glanced in through my door, that both of us would be - of the band about those Indian Queen tables, I was quick to humor his whim - for the mysterious and undecided. I looked up as one who turns a new - proposal on the wheel of his thoughts. - </p> - <p> - “It is my idea,” said I at last, with the air of a man who likes the - notion's flavor, “that your presence would work for good. I should say we - might better go. We may count the enemy, and that at least should be - something.” - </p> - <p> - “You are right,” returned the General. “We will go; and I think, too, it - might be good policy to let the foe count us.” - </p> - <p> - The Indian Queen was a crowded hostelry that night. The halls and waiting - rooms of the tavern were thronged of eminent ones. Some were present to - attend the Jefferson dinner; others casually for gossip and to hear the - news. - </p> - <p> - As the General and I would be going up the stair, my eye was caught by the - heavy shoulders and lion face of Webster coming down. - </p> - <p> - “There's too much Secession in the wind for me,” remarked Webster, as the - General asked if he were going away. - </p> - <p> - “You did not leave the Senate for that,” responded the General. “If - Secession be here, it's a reason for remaining.” - </p> - <p> - Webster shrugged his big shoulders and went on. - </p> - <p> - As I gazed at the group—waiting, they were, for the opening of the - banquet hall—I met many a great face. Among those about the - stair-head and in the rooms beyond were Colonel Johnson of Kentucky, tall - of form, grave of eye, he who slew Tecumseh; Benton, big, pompous, wise - but with a bottomless conceit; the lean Rufus Choate, eloquent and sound; - Corwin, round, humorous, with a face of ruddy fun; White, the dignified, - in the Senate from my own state of Tennessee; Hill, gray and lame, the - General's friend in New Hampshire; Noah, my Hebrew with red hair; Van - Buren, Peg's “good little secretary” of state; Vaughn, the British - minister; the quickeyed Amos Kendall, with Blair by his side; the recreant - Duff Green, now wholly for Calhoun; Calhoun himself, pale, scholarly and - fine; Huygens, that ministerial tubby personage, gin-bleary and dull; - Krudener, the Russian; Eaton, easy, florid, urbane; Branch and Berrien and - Barry and Ingham and the reckless Marcy. - </p> - <p> - The dinner was spread. The decorations were studied in their democracy. - Hundreds of candles from many-armed iron branches blazed about the plain - walls of the room and made the light of day. For the rest, the hall was - hung with flags. The stars and stripes, to be a centerpiece, was draped - about a portrait of Jefferson just to the rear of the place where Lee of - Virginia, who was to preside, would sit. Extending around the four sides - of the room were festooned the flags of the several states. - </p> - <p> - With peculiar ostentation, and next to the national colors, flowed the - banner of South Carolina, with its palmetto and rattlesnake—Calhoun's - emblem. - </p> - <p> - “Do you see it?” said the General in a low tone, as we approached our - places, “do you see Calhoun's flag? That serpent may rattle but it must - not strike.” - </p> - <p> - “And if it strike?” - </p> - <p> - “If it strike, it dies.” - </p> - <p> - Profusion and elegance were displayed in the arrangements, with none of - that long-drawn foolishness of courses so dear to Whigs and Federals and - other imitators of an English nobility. Black servants came and went to - shift one's plate and knife, or to aid in carving at the call of a guest. - At hopeful intervals along the tables reposed huge sirloins and smoking - rounds of beef; there were quail pies and chickens fried and turkeys - roasted; there stood pies of venison and rabbit and pot-pies of squirrels; - soups and fishes and vegetables; boiled hams and giant dishes of - earthenware holding baked pork and beans; roast suckling pigs and each - with a crab-apple in its mouth. There were corn breads and flour breads - and pancakes rolled with jellies; sideboards upheld puddings—Indian, - rice and plum—quaking custards, and scores of kindred dainties. - Everywhere bristled ranks and double ranks of bottles and decanters, and a - widest range of drinks, from whisky to wine of the cape, were at one's - call. There, too, stood wooden bowls of salads on side tables, supported - of weighty cheeses; and to close in the flanks were pies, mince and - pumpkin and apple, with final coffee, and slim long pipes with tobacco of - Trinidad for folk who would smoke. - </p> - <p> - Before we were seated, and while we stood to our places, the sentiment was - proposed: - </p> - <p> - “The memory of Thomas Jefferson.” The toast was drunk in silence; all - could agree on Jefferson; and then with clatter of knife and fork, the - thirsty clink of glasses, and the murmurous hum of conversation over all, - the work of the night commenced. - </p> - <p> - As the moments roved on, Nullification and Secession became so much the - open objects of many present, and were withal so loosely in the common - air, that sundry gentlemen—more timorous than loyal, perhaps—made - excuses and withdrew. - </p> - <p> - The General's presence was a plain surprise to more than one; they could - not construe it. For himself, he carried it off as though his being there - were the most expected of possible things. The General sat on the right - hand of the presiding Lee. I was, myself, to the General's right hand. - Opposite was Calhoun with that Calhoun triangle of the cabinet, Berrien, - Branch and Ingham. The quartet got on most beamingly. The General, as we - came up, rendered them a sweeping bow which they might share among them. - </p> - <p> - “Calhoun,” whispered the General, indicating the Vice-President with a - nod, “is, you see, openly claiming his half of my cabinet. I'll startle - him some day by making him a present of the three.” - </p> - <p> - An hour passed on; the banquet reached that glass-and-bottle stage which - Noah anticipated. There were a round score of regular toasts; each would - smell of secession, while the speeches were even more malodorous of that - villainy. - </p> - <p> - I, with a hundred others, was narrowly watching the General, and, well as - I knew him, I wondered at the calmness wherewith he maintained himself. - This man who had a genius for anger, who went head-free into each debate, - who offered you his last thoughts in an unrestricted stream of talk, would - now be as impassive as marble. The General, throughout these wordy - treasons of speech and toast, showed cold and stern and master of a - dignity that became both himself and the exalted character of his station. - </p> - <p> - The hour was hurrying towards the late. Calhoun glanced across at the - General; there was a questioning uneasiness in his look. Evidently the - urgent moment was at hand. - </p> - <p> - Calhoun offered a slip of paper to Lee, presiding, and whispered a word. - </p> - <p> - “The Vice-President proposes a toast,” cried Lee. - </p> - <p> - There fell a stillness, laughter died and talk was hushed. The Chairman - read: - </p> - <p> - “'<i>The Federal Union. Next to our liberty, the most dear. May we all - remember that it can only be preserved by respecting the rights of the - States, and distributing equally the benefits and the burden of the Union</i>.'” - </p> - <p> - That stillness of death continued, marked and profound. Folk strained and - craned at both the General and Calhoun as do ones who would observe the - effect of a shot. There were eyes replete of interrogation, and if one - must have it truly told, defiance, to be peculiarly turned upon the - General. - </p> - <p> - For his part, the General never wore a loftier look. He scribbled a quick - line and gave it to the Chairman. - </p> - <p> - “The President offers a toast.” Then solemnly, as one who feels its - import: - </p> - <p> - '“<i>The Federal Union: It must be Preserved</i>.'” - </p> - <p> - The General's glance was on Calhoun, as pointed as a sword. His eye was - fierce with a sort of gray fury like the eye of some fighting eagle. - Calhoun for a moment gave him look for look; then his glance fell, his - face whitened, he would seem to shrink and sear and wither before the man - of fire. It was as though he saw the future's danger, or felt some gallows - prophecy thereof. In the end he sat like one under a blackness of shadow. - </p> - <p> - The General it was who broke the spell. Pushing back, he arose, and bowing - to the Chairman who still sat with that toast of menace in his hand he - began moving towards the door. His head was lifted, and he bore himself as - should one who flings a gauntlet to the world. Openly, obviously, - defiantly, he set his heel on Secession's head in the midst of Secession's - champions. - </p> - <p> - Pausing, the General swept those present, letting his look of challenge - rest on each one in his turn. It was as though he questioned them: “Where, - now, is your courage?” - </p> - <p> - There was none to retort to him. Folk scented peril on him as cattle smell - in the wind the unborn storm. - </p> - <p> - “The Federal Union. It must be preserved.” The General, as though to call - a last attention, repeated his toast. Then, with burning eye laid full - upon Calhoun, and thinking, doubtless, on Overton and Crockett and Houston - and Dale and Coffee and those riflemen in hunting shirts and leggings, and - on the ships and Scott and Castle Pinckney, he added: “And it shall be - preserved.” - </p> - <p> - It was the moment pregnant and mighty; the moment when one man foiled a - plot to stampede history itself, and calmed and turned and drove the herd - of events in a right national direction for the Union and to fields of - quiet peace. Treason's heart and Treason's hand were palsied with a toast - of seven words, when now the words came wedded with the grim, relentless - courage that would die or make them true. - </p> - <p> - The galleries about the big room were filled with women looking on, Peg - among the others. When the General and I were again at the White House, - late as stood the hour, we found Peg waiting. I never saw a being more - given over to fire than was our Peg. - </p> - <p> - “Was he not noble?” cried Peg, when she would have me alone for a moment. - “Was he not grand? I would give my life if for one hour I might be a man, - and be a man like that.” - </p> - <p> - And yet for all the plain sureness of that toast, and the General's looks - of decision which were sent to be its escort, the rebellionists would ask - a further sign. They sent the insinuating Rhetz to call upon the General. - That was the next morning. - </p> - <p> - The politic Rhetz presented himself, and the General met him with a manner - of studied distance. He would have the visitor to know how he held him for - no friend. This was meant to give the General's words more weight-, since - the other would understand that he stood upon guard and spoke nothing he - did not intend to carry out. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. President,” said Rhetz, suavely deferential, “I go back to my home - to-morrow. Have you any message for your South Carolina friends?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” returned the General, with his cold eye on the questioner, “yes, I - have a message for my friends of South Carolina.” The words were coming - with a slow emphasis like a sentence of death. “Their state is a part of - the Union, and a part of the Union it shall remain. You may tell them, if - one South Carolina finger be raised in defiance of this government, that I - shall come down there; and once I'm there, I'll hang the first man I lay - hands on to the first tree I can reach.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV—HOW PEG WAS SAVED FROM PEG. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ow when the - General's toast at that banquet in the Indian Queen had gone abroad, it - would have the effect of a warning, each man taking it home. A mighty - silence fell upon States Rights; the foxes of Nullification found their - dens, and were to be noticed for a sudden absence from one's eye and ear - where but the day before with their presence and their yelpings they would - fill both. - </p> - <p> - It will have a strange look, but it was the General, himself, who of all - folk fostered a distrust of his course. - </p> - <p> - It was to Noah and me he one day told this. Noah mentioned the vast - silence of a voiceless conservatism which had fallen upon that movement of - Secession, late so reboant and rampant. - </p> - <p> - “And yet,” said the General, “the story of the country will at last show - me wrong.” - </p> - <p> - “Will you say how?” asked Noah. “Surely, you do not doubt the common need - of a union between the States, and one strong enough to defy the caprice - or the ambition of a clique?” - </p> - <p> - “My sentiment for the Union,” said the General, “has suffered no - modification, and it is because I stand for union and would die for union, - that I am not sure of the wisdom of that toast of mine. It would have been - better to stand aloof, and let Secession go the length of treason. Had I - held to such a course, perhaps as many as one hundred might have answered - for the crime with their lives. But the question would have been settled; - the dispute would have been made <i>res adjudicata</i> and the future - forever freed of that struggle. Now the serpent is only bruised, not - killed; in years to follow yours and mine it will revive in rebellion and - may yet crush the country in its folds.” - </p> - <p> - “I can not think you are right,” said I, for I was having part in the - conversation with the others; “I am no judge, or you have closed the door - against this Nullification.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay!” responded the General, “closed but not locked the door. It should - have been barred with a gibbet. Folk are not taught by threats but by - example. Had I stayed myself until the leaders for Secession went so far - they were hanged for it, that would have meant the end. Now the business - is deferred; the country will yet be forced to fight a civil war and wade - knee-deep in blood to save itself.” - </p> - <p> - “Is it,” asked Noah, curiously, “is it now you first hold these views?” - </p> - <p> - “They are not new,” returned the General; “I owned them from the - beginning. But I lacked the hardihood to act on them. I grow old; I have - been in my hour the instrument by which so much blood has been shed that - in my grey age I shrink from more. That toast was devised to save myself - from spilling further blood; I was thinking on myself when I framed it and - not of those black ones who would do treason. Its great purpose was to - save me from becoming their executioner.” - </p> - <p> - “Now your feeling is mine too,” observed Noah, shaking a thoughtful head. - “The seed of the whole trouble is slavery; while that exists, the certain - chance of civil war stands open.” - </p> - <p> - “And how would one be rid of it?” demanded the General, passionately. - “Washington was against slavery, Jefferson was against it, Franklin was - against it, every great one whose trowel employed itself in laying the - foundations of our government was against it, and yet there to-day it - lives. They could not cope with slavery; how, then, shall we?” - </p> - <p> - “It existed in the North,” said Noah, “and it was wiped out.” - </p> - <p> - “The slaves were few in the North,” responded the General; “as chattels - they made but a slim fraction of that region's riches. Moreover, slavery - did not pay a Northern profit. It is easy, when there is money loss, to - abandon the cause of that loss. But conditions within the present - boundaries of slavery show otherwise. The slave's cost of keep is less, - his months of labor more in number, and he is not winter-killed with - maladies of the lungs. Moreover, your slave makes a fairer unit of labor - in rice savannahs and cotton fields, where a plantation carries thousands - of acres, than he did where land was more divided and a farm of a hundred - and sixty acres the common holding of a man. In short, the slave spins - that money profit for the South which was lacking in the North. That fact - of profit—the greed of men—will meet folk who would free the - slave and make you a mighty difference.” - </p> - <p> - “And still,” said Noah, “slavery should be stricken down.” - </p> - <p> - “To that I agree,” remarked the General, “but again I ask you, How? - Certain of our New England radicals, when they shout for Abolition, cry - 'Down with slavery!' as lightly as one should say: 'Marry! swallow a - strawberry.' When a man is in the upper story of a burning house he does - not hurl himself from a window, he descends by the stair. Let us, when now - we be ablaze over slavery—for it is that, as you say, to lie at the - bottom of this whole movement of States Rights—let us grope - cautiously until we find the safe stairway of escape.” - </p> - <p> - “It is not so clear to my mind,” said I, for the spirit to lecture, - excited by example, began to move within me, “that slavery is so bad for - the blacks. One must have account for a difference of race. You would not - insist that a deer tear a prey with his teeth and howl on some hill of - midnight like a wolf. It has been the never-flagging mistake of government - to deal with the Indian as though he were white, and enforce pale-face - conditions upon him. It would be as rife of error to proceed with the - negro as though he were white or could work out a white man's destiny. - Make the black man free, and I tell you he will be as helpless as a ship - ashore on the instant.” - </p> - <p> - “To better the black,” said the General, “is not my argument; I am against - slavery to better the white man. When I seek to destroy slavery, it is the - master I would free, and not the slave.” - </p> - <p> - Just what the General would intend by this last I had no opportunity to - discover, for the zealous Jim was heard at the door, ushering in our Peg. - </p> - <p> - “Never mind, Miss Peg,” I could hear Jim say, in a way of patronizing - reassurance, and evidently in combat of some suggestion of Peg's that she - would defer her appearance among us, “never mind about d'Marse Major an' - d'Marse Gen'ral an' that red-head Jew gentleman argufyin'. That don't - count for nothin'; they're allers at it, night an' day, argufyin' away - like they aint got a minute to live, and nothin' to never come of it. - Never mind 'em, Miss Peg; you-all jes' trapse right along in an' declar' - your urrent.” - </p> - <p> - With Peg's coming, Noah made polite expedition to retire; nothing one - might do or say would serve to keep him. He who could look a man in the - eye and stand knee to knee with him for life or death, feared a woman as - though she were a ghost and fled from the mere sight of her. - </p> - <p> - “I am somewhat abashed,” said Peg, “to think of the disturbance I have - caused, and that I drive away your visitor.” This to the General. “Why did - you not make him stay? I shall never forget my debt to him; and I'm glad, - too, he is so much your favorite.” - </p> - <p> - “Noah puts us all in his debt,” said the General. “To me he is the man - remarkable; fine, high, yet bold and quick, there will be no one to take - his place when he is gone.” - </p> - <p> - Peg's purpose was to tell the General—for he had asked the question - in a little note that morning—how she should like the dinner and - that East Room dance he offered, on the next evening but one. - </p> - <p> - “Is not the time too short?” asked the General. “Forty-eight hours would - seem no mighty space for folk to make themselves prepared. They may own - other engagements.” - </p> - <p> - “There will be no engagements,” said Peg. “The season is quite at an end; - the Redsticks, as you christened them, closed their defeated doors six - weeks ago, and for our own side, we only continued our receptions two - weeks longer to show how we remained masters of the field. There will - stand nothing in the way; and as for space to be ready in, why, then, folk - don't need hours, but only minutes, when the invitation is from the White - House.” - </p> - <p> - “Let us say the day following to-morrow, then,” said the General. “It - shall be for your victory, child, and to celebrate it. Also, since the - losers as well as the victors have proper place in a triumph, and, again, - because it will look like the olive branch and an expression of peace, we - will bid both friend and foe to this merrymaking, and mark it with as wide - a good feeling as our opponents will accept.” - </p> - <p> - Peg's dinner, as dinners go, was a creature of magnificence, with Peg, - beautiful as a moss-rose, at the General's right, and Dolly Madison's own - silver—massy, and, as the women said, “gorgeous,”—to glisten - on the white napery. The General's wide-flung invitations were as widely - accepted; and not alone the Van Burens and the Krudeners and the Vaughns, - but the Calhouns and the Berriens and the Branches, and all of the sept of - Nullification, were there, as though to put down any surmise of sulky fear - for themselves to be the offshoot of that conflict of the toasts. Even the - frivolous Pigeon-breast was with us undismayed; albeit he practiced a - forbearance touching Peg, and never once after the first formalities so - far forgot his caution as to be near enough to that sparkling lady to - court the awful hazard of her glance. - </p> - <p> - There came but one clash beneath my notice, and that would feed my humor. - Houston was just come into town, as rude and tangled a gentleman in every - politer technicality as the bears of his native woods. With him for his - table-mate he bore away the wife of Ingham of the Treasury. Houston - guarded his prize to her place with a ferocious backwoods vigilance as - though it were indeed the enemy's country and they in peril of some Indian - ambuscade with each new room they entered. The lady, with a tact as crude - as Houston's knowledge of the drawing-room, perceiving the savageries of - her protector, would be prompt to establish herself as directress' of his - manners. Poor Houston suffered more than once the humiliation of the - lady's counsel, given in a high, obvious voice, and with the manner of one - who corrects a novice dull to the confines of despair. - </p> - <p> - The rupture befell over fish and when a portion of delicate pompano was - placed before the headlong Houston. - </p> - <p> - “That is not the fish fork,” cautioned the lady in a whisper so loud it - bred a smile on thirty faces either side of her; “that is not the fish - fork; here, take this.” - </p> - <p> - “By Satan's hoofs, madam!” exclaimed the wrathful Houston, whose - long-stifled resentment would now be in the saddle, at the same time - brandishing the huge trident he had somehow gotten hold on; “by Satan's - hoofs! keep your fish forks for whom you will. For myself, I'll eat this - catfish with my saber if I have the mind.” - </p> - <p> - Later I heard the distempered lady confide to a neighbor how Houston was - “an untaught brute,” while that hurt hero told me on his word as a man - that for those several hours he was in her company, he had less of ease - than at the Horseshoe where he was given four wounds. - </p> - <p> - The East Room, when agile ones would dance was brilliant in white and gold - and crystal chandeliers, with floor of water-soaked oak so polished it - reflected the gay dresses like a looking-glass, and so slippery that - clumsy ones, like myself, went gingerly about it in terror for their - bones. - </p> - <p> - Peg was as glorious as a star, and to me never more lovely, albeit my - coral on her bosom may have had somewhat to do with that. And to see her - so bowed to and flattered was like a perfume; for it looked as though the - foe would forego those old-time tactics of distance and averted gaze, and - that a new word was abroad in Peg's behalf. There came no one to more - emphasize his courtesy or show more attentive in what might do Peg honor - than the Vice-President himself, and with him were the members of that - cabinet triumvirate who had cast in their narrow lots with him. Even the - stately Mrs. Calhoun would be gracious in a far-off sort, while the ladies - Berrien and Branch relaxed from a former frigidity, and if not torrid, - were at all events of the temperate zone when the etiquette of the floor - would bring Peg and them in contact. As for the vigorous Madam Ingham, she - was so overcome of her labors in elevation of Houston that following - dinner she could do nothing but repose herself. However, for so much as - she remained in the picture, she beamed affably in a fat, vermilion way, - and her red face was like the setting sun. - </p> - <p> - The male Ingham, being in prodigious fettle, would fain waddle onto the - treacherous floor with Peg in his hand for a dance; for Ingham was - sensibly exalted of his valor since Eaton, whom he held in fear, was not - present, but off in Baltimore on some long-drawn duty about new rifles—meant, - I fear me, for Nullifiers, should their pot of treason over-boil. I will - say this of Ingham, however: for all his rotund uncouthness, he went - through that dance without falling down; a no small feat I should call it, - and one to give me relief, since for the while it lasted I was held on - tenter-hooks over Peg's safety, and would hover about ready to rush in and - save her should affairs go badly between Ingham and the glass-like floor. - </p> - <p> - There occurred one incident of harshness I could have wished left out. It - was when that Frau Huygens drew up to Peg and would greet her as though - there were no such name as Krudener and no such story as the slight she - cast on Peg in the Russian's dining room. The gross Frau Huygens was - arrayed in her one garish frock of many colors, and which her prudence to - save money and buy no more frocks had made so well known. - </p> - <p> - Frau Huygens, trained to the venture, doubtless, by her husband, who still - dwelt in fear of Van Buren and those passports which should return him to - the Hague, swept before Peg with the grace of a cabbage on parade. When - Peg, in response to her greeting, was silent and would only look on her in - a baffled manner, as though her memory were at bay, Frau Huygens - exclaimed, with a Dutch thickness of reproach which no one might imitate - with a pen: - </p> - <p> - “Madam, don't you remember me?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” said Peg, as one who makes every polite effort and yet - fails, “I remember your dress very well, but your face is strange to me.” - </p> - <p> - With that I swooped on Peg and whisked her away, for I had a horror of - what might follow. - </p> - <p> - “And there,” cried Peg, with an unctuous gurgle, “was it not a best of - fortunes, watchdog, that she should give me that opportunity? Now we are - quits; and I think, too, I have her in my debt.” - </p> - <p> - There was nothing to be said to this, and - </p> - <p> - I made myself content with thoughts of how we were no worse off. - </p> - <p> - Late one afternoon when the hour was drawing towards the close of the day, - I had planted myself at a window and was looking across to the President's - Square, and, since her gables were of necessity in the corner of my eye, - carrying Peg vaguely on my meditations. It had been a still, windless day - of the early spring, but, for all it stood so late of the season, with a - heaviness in the air that smelled of snow. - </p> - <p> - Now I am not one readily to be borne upon by imps in blue, and would - commonly give you the reason of my gloomy mood, if gloom I were a spoil - to. But this was the day odd for me, since I was pressed hard with a sense - of disaster and the feeling as of some threat in the air like a knife, - that I liked not at all and understood still less. What was it to so hang - upon me like a millstone or a sibyl-spoken prophecy of death? I would try - to laugh it down; but the smile I wrung from my unwilling lips owned so - much of bitterness that in mere defence I surrendered myself to a pensive - resignation instead, as being of two evils the lesser one, and so paused - for what blow might descend upon me. Some disaster pended, of that my - spirit went convinced; and I folded my hands and waited for the future to - announce its name. - </p> - <p> - While I was thus by the window it began to snow. It was of your left-over - storms which have been held captive in caverns of the clouds, to at last - escape and overtake the world a month or more behind the proper time. - There was no stir to the air, and the day went still and moderate; and yet - I never looked on such a fall of snow, with flakes big and soft as a - baby's hands. Even as I gazed, the ground under my eyes turned from a new - spring green to white, while the trees across were snow from roots to very - finger-tips, and showed in milky fretwork against the low dullness of the - sky. - </p> - <p> - As I stood watching these white changes in the face of things—for - the spectacle would charm me like mesmerism and made me forget my - forebodes—the General laid a gentle hand upon my shoulder. This, - too, had its side to startle, for the General, while as tender as a woman, - was in nowise demonstrative, and not one to be patting your shoulder or - slapping your back. - </p> - <p> - In dim fashion those thin fingers would add themselves to that threat of - sadness, and stir a new alarm inside my bosom. - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” I asked, as though he solicited my notice to something - urgent or unusual; “what should it be now?”—my voice not firm but - tremulous. - </p> - <p> - The General looked on me with an affectionate, consolatory eye, and yet, - somehow, his glance would fit in ominously with my feeling. I could tell - how I stood at the point of bad tidings. - </p> - <p> - And at that he began far enough away, for his first words were of the long - ago. - </p> - <p> - “I was thinking,” said he, “of that time my horse was shot and pinned me - by the leg in the fight on the Tombigbee. Do you recall how you sprang - from your saddle and flung the dying horse aside as though you but hefted - a rabbit?” - </p> - <p> - “When it comes to that,” I returned, “I supposed that you as well as your - horse were shot down, and the fear gave me a flash of strength.” - </p> - <p> - The General was silent, his hand still on my shoulder. Then he began - again, musingly. - </p> - <p> - “We must ever be together, Major,” said he; “we must stay together to the - last. I shall die first; I am eighteen years nearer the grave than you and - shall go on ahead. It is you—I look to you for this—it is you - who must be by my side to close my eyes. We must never part; we are lonely - men and lonesome men, and shall make no new friends. We must be for that - the closer to each other.” - </p> - <p> - Now, even through my clouds, these words would strike me as lacking object - or coherency. What should be the matter? Was there some wrong with him or - with me? He had not spoken in this vein even when he lay in the vale of - death. - </p> - <p> - “Why,” said I, “there is no present need to talk on death, thank God! Why - should you talk on death?” - </p> - <p> - “It was not death but you, I had on my mind,” he replied. “I would never - be parted from you.” - </p> - <p> - “Nor shall you,” I declared; “although I should count the absence of - myself no loss to you or any one.” - </p> - <p> - This was not it; what would he be about? - </p> - <p> - “Well, let us put aside dole,” cried he, cheering himself with an effort; - “now folk would call us two fortunate, I warrant you, to be looking from a - White House window upon a world all ours. Come, we will have a brisker - view; I have great news for you, and news to make you stare. Nor will I - beat about the bush, but go to the heart at once. I am about to dissolve - my cabinet.” - </p> - <p> - “What!” I exclaimed, for here was a thing without a precedent. - </p> - <p> - “My cabinet is to dissolve. I have arranged for it. Van Buren will tender - his resignation as of his own desire; Eaton and Barry will follow suit. If - Calhoun's three do not take the hint and act on so good an example, then I - will bring them to book with a demand. I will say that, half of my cabinet - being gone, I desire to sweep clean the site and rear up in its place a - new edifice of counsel.” - </p> - <p> - My thoughts were in a tumult, and the blood in me seemed seized of riot. - It was a strange thing, that from the moment the General's hand fell upon - my shoulder it seemed to hold Peg before my eyes. And when he talked it - was as though he spoke her name with every word. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he went on, “Van Buren's resignation will be in my hands to-morrow; - Eaton's so soon as he returns from Baltimore, say in a week; then Barry's - will come along in the wake of Eaton's. I shall send Van Buren Minister to - England. He shall be Vice-President for my second term, as you and I have - planned, and President after that.” - </p> - <p> - “But Peg,” cried I, at last; “what will you do with Peg?” - </p> - <p> - The General would try to smile at this, but the effort was as futile as - had been my own. But he did not fence at me with any jesting reminder of - how Peg was no part of his cabinet; he met my thought squarely and would - make allowance for my feeling. - </p> - <p> - “It is most natural,” he returned, “that you should ask of Peg. We have - guarded our little girl too long—you and I—not to own her - first in our concern. Peg, then, shall go to Florida and be a queen. I - shall give Eaton that Governorship; we may yet need a firm hand in St. - Augustine. Is it not a good thought? Our Peg shall rule among those - Spaniards; it will almost be to have a throne and wear a crown. Does not - that please you, when now her station under kinder skies is to be so - splendid and so notably enhanced?” - </p> - <p> - From him I turned and paced the room; then from sadness my anger began to - swell, for I am one whose grief runs with the end of it into wrath. - </p> - <p> - “Tell me one thing,” cried I at last, pausing before the General. “Why do - you dissolve your cabinet?” - </p> - <p> - “Will it not lop off three arms of Calhoun's power?” he asked. “Does it - not palsy Branch and Ingham and Berrien?” - </p> - <p> - “But is that the true reason?” I demanded. - </p> - <p> - “It is the one I shall let the world believe, it any rate.” - </p> - <p> - “That should be no answer,” I retorted, my heart like a furnace with the - rage that was coming over me. “Why do you palter? I have the right to - know. You have made your dozen poor jests upon me, and said I was in love - with Peg. Perhaps you would mean those jests. I tell you I do not believe - your word when you say it is a move against Calhoun. That is mere glamour - and fallacy and meant for blindness. It is no tale to tell me as though I - were some common gull. Give me your reason, then—the true one. Does - Eaton know he is to go?” - </p> - <p> - All this I reeled off, and gave the General no opening for an answer, - asking a dozen questions at once. But he sat quiet and with a friendly - patience, and his face spoke to me only of nearness and sympathy, and - never a shade of hurt for the rudeness I visited upon him. What a heart of - gold was his! He, who bore nothing from an enemy, would bear all at the - hands of a friend. - </p> - <p> - When I was run out of queries he began to take me up, beginning at the - end. - </p> - <p> - “Eaton knows,” said he; “he knew before he left for Baltimore. For him the - change will be a relief; his has been no bed of flowers, and in St. - Augustine his place and power, and last, not least, his peace, will gain - promotion.” - </p> - <p> - “Doubtless,” said I, in a high pitch of scorn, “he can there flaunt his - riches in the faces of the Dons, and show Peg's beauty, and make a vast - display.” - </p> - <p> - “You interrupt me,” remarked the General. “However let me ask a question: - Why do you remind me how I've jested and mayhap made some idle laugh - between us, and as innocent as idle, over your feeling for the little - girl? Why do you put that to me?” - </p> - <p> - “Because,” said I, in a fury, “I think you break up your cabinet for that. - You will have it how Peg is in some peril of me; you would send Peg to - Florida on a pretense to make her safe from me. There you have it. You see - I can be the honester and the franker man. I pass you my heart on a - spear.” - </p> - <p> - The General arose from the chair into which he had flung himself, and - taking me by the two shoulders, would look on me squarely, while I in my - turn must gaze into his gray depths. I could see the tears stand in his - fine eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Let me tell you one thing,” said he. “I but repeat what you know as well - as I, when I say that should you harbor thought of Peg, or look on her in - lights other than as the wife of a friend, it would be black disgrace to - yourself and to me, and most of all to Peg. And do you think I would not - trust you? Man, I need no sentry over you save the sentry of your own - conscience, no guard other than the guard your honor sets. You would do no - wrong to Peg. It is not you I fear; on your faith I would stake my soul's - hope of a meeting I look and long for after death. Will you have my reason - now for what I do? It is not to save Peg from you; it is to save Peg from - Peg, she goes to Florida. And to save our Peg I'd break a dozen cabinets.” - </p> - <p> - It was now grown dark, and the silent storm swept down more whitely dense - than before. I threw a heavy military cloak about me and stepped out into - the night. I had no set purpose, no destination; but some sure influence - tugged at me, and then the house would seem to choke and its heat to - smother me; I wanted the darkness and the coolness and to be alone. Was it - some sweet power beckoning my heart, or merely a plain instinct to save - and recover myself, one that any hard-struck animal might have had, to - thus take me forth into the midst of the blinding storm? - </p> - <p> - My journey through the gathering drifts was not pushed far when, under one - of the oil lamps that flanked the road and shed a sickly flare through the - thick-falling snow, I beheld a closed carriage drawn up. It was one of - those vehicles of hire common of the place, and beyond being better than - most, and with two powerful horses that would have looked well hauling a - gun in a battery, nothing to mark it. At first glance I thought it had - come by some mishap to running gear or axle-tree. - </p> - <p> - As I was for pushing by, quite heedless of the stalled carriage and - thinking only on my own broken heart, some one plucked me by the cloak. - Wheeling sharply, I saw it was the coachman who had leaped from his box to - interrupt me. - </p> - <p> - There would be no mistaking the massive shoulders and easy pose; it was - Rivera. - </p> - <p> - “What's this?” said I. “When did you turn whip?” - </p> - <p> - Rivera gave me no words, but motioning towards the carriage, swung again - to his place with the reins. As he did so, there came a tap on the glass. - </p> - <p> - Somewhat in a maze, I approached and flung open the door. In the dark - depths I made out the vague outlines of a woman. - </p> - <p> - “Get in.” It was Peg's voice. - </p> - <p> - Without demur or question I took my place beside her and shut the door; - with that, Rivera cracking a thong over the sleepy horses to rouse them, - the carriage at a slow pace began moving Georgetown way. - </p> - <p> - “Hold me close to you,” whispered Peg, her low tones falling on my ears - like a cry of pain, “hold me close to you; I am cold.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI.—LOVE'S FUNERAL IN THE SNOW. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s though in a - dream I took Peg in under my great cloak, and having my arm about her - would now hold her close and warm to my side. Her ear was over my heart as - her face lay pressed against me, and I only hope she could understand the - story of that throbbing. - </p> - <p> - For myself I was in a mid-swirl of mere confusion, with my wits all upside - down, and no clear notion of what I did or why. The General's word of that - Florida business, the cabinet to break and Peg to go away from me, made it - for the moment as though the floor of the world had given way beneath my - feet. It would provoke chaos and seem the end of things. - </p> - <p> - It was never said of me, even by the least informed, that I would be - swayed in any kind or made to pause in what I went about by the counsel of - conventionality. I had lived a life half-bitted, and for the main with - bridle on my neck; the last I cared for were the frowns or the smiles of - folk. If it were a woman to talk against the teeth of my fancy, I would - turn my back on her; if a man, I had a way to gag his tongue if it should - be no better than the butt of my pistol. And yet, however loose my habit - or dull my knowledge of those matters, I did not go without a fashion of - cold shock on Peg's behalf when I was so far my own man again as to dwell - on our position—we, plodding through the snow and the darkness, - locked in that carriage. - </p> - <p> - This mood of apprehension was so much in the upper-hand with me that it - came to be the impulse, and would suggest the topic I laid tongue to when - first I found my words. It was not without a mighty effort of the will - that I obliged myself to some steadiness of utterance. Then, and not very - craftily, I might observe, I, in the manner of one who thinks aloud, and - surely as much to myself as to Peg, gave vent to an exclamation under my - breath. Indeed, I would not have looked for Peg to hear me, since her head—pretty - ears and all—was buried beneath the thick folds of my cloak. - </p> - <p> - “What if folk were to know!” I said. - </p> - <p> - Then came Peg's voice like a half stifled murmur of despair. - </p> - <p> - “What should I care who knows?” cried she. “It is my heart's funeral! My - heart is dead and we go upon its funeral in this snow!” - </p> - <p> - At that, without well heeding what I was about, and doubtless drawn to it - by the note of woe in Peg's tones, I held her to my side even more closely - than before. Thus we remained for a long space in utter silence, neither - speaking a word, while the quiet storm stole down upon us and the slow - wheels forced their passage through the white cold levels of the snow. - </p> - <p> - After a bit, Peg's head, curls in a tangle and hood removed, was thrust - outside my cloak, which garment, however, she would continue to wrap about - her and hold with her hand. - </p> - <p> - “I would still be near to you,” she said, as though in explanation of the - cloak, “though I am no longer cold.” - </p> - <p> - The mere truth was, the night, while a choke and smother of snow, was - nothing chill, being bare freezing for a temperature and never a breath of - air to stir, and the inside of the big carriage as warm as many a library. - And yet, when I would first get in, I found Peg shivering as with an ague. - That was gone now and she more in control. - </p> - <p> - Peg would now be more mistress of herself and speak with a measure of - firmness. - </p> - <p> - “You have heard?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “The General,” I returned, “has told me you are to go to Florida. But how - should you have been told? Or was it known to you for long?” - </p> - <p> - This latter I put a little viciously, for it struck me on the moment how - Peg might have been aware of this new destiny for days, and hidden it from - me. But no; she had come to her information but an hour before. Even while - the General with his hand on my rebellious shoulder gave me the story of - it, the letter which told the news to Peg was put within her hands. - </p> - <p> - “It was to have been a secret,” said she, “and my husband would have kept - it until his return. But he will be detained beyond his plans; he wrote me - because of preparations I must make.” - </p> - <p> - While Peg said this, her face was held up towards mine, and even in the - vague lights, which were rather the ghosts of lights than any radiance - however dim, I could catch some whiteness of it. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly her head was in its old resting place over my heart, with the - cloak to again become its cover. - </p> - <p> - “Watch-dog,” whispered Peg, and I might tell how deeply she was stricken - by the quaver of her voice, as much as by a trembling that swept her as a - gust rumples the surface of a tarn; “watch-dog, I felt that I would not - live unless I saw you. Do you contemn me? Do you own shame for your little - friend? I could not help it; I sent for Rivera, and made him fetch this - carriage. We are alone—hidden from the world's eyes. I have torn a - night from the hands of Time to be no one's night save ours. I waited by - the lamp; my soul called to you and I knew you would come. I would not - send; I was sure you would be with me without that. I should have died if - I had not found you. Say that I did right, watch-dog. Say that it was - right! I only cry for your one word; what others will think or say I care - not, but I could not bear up against your anger! Say that I did right; say - it!—say that you are glad.” - </p> - <p> - “I will say it all and intend it all, my little one!” Here I stroked Peg's - tangle of curls as one would pet a child. - </p> - <p> - My whole being was wrapped in a storm and my bosom caged a whirlwind. I - could be calm enough, apparently, and yet I was growing aware of that - tempest of spirit which shook me like an aspen. I had been dull—dull - to the point of crime; but now my wisdom would begin to sharpen and - brighten itself. - </p> - <p> - Still, I had so much coolness to call my own that I was glad of the fact - of Rivera. I remember thinking on that; for, with no more words than the - dumb, he was as secret as a mole and as honest, withal, and single-hearted - as a hound. There would be none to know; as Peg said, she had torn a night - from eternity to be ours and ours alone. - </p> - <p> - While these thoughts went tumbling down the steeps of my conjecturings, I - continued mechanically to caress Peg's hair, and it felt like a web of - gossamer in my coarse fingers. - </p> - <p> - “Contemn you, child!” said I, and my voice was not much louder than had - been hers, and I bent down my head so that she might hear; “contemn you! I - would as soon impeach the snow outside, new given from the sky, denouncing - it for soot.” - </p> - <p> - Peg began to weep, and I could hear the sharp catching of her sobs. - Suddenly the moan came sighing up to me: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, if there were no such word as right or justice or duty, but only love—just - love!” Then with a quick backward twist of her form that was like an - impulse, and as replete of a swift grace as any suppleness of that long - ago leopard whereof she would so often make me think, Peg turned herself - in my arms, and with her own encircling my neck lay crying on my bosom. I - held her close—closer. I could tell the beating of her heart, count - the footfalls of her nature as though she were parcel of myself. How I - loved her! adored her!—my prone spirit would fall on its knees to - her for its Deity. - </p> - <p> - The while, too, and with my soul at these prayers, my candor would arrest - me for the traitor I was. Where should be that conscience the General - spoke on? Or where that honor which was to have been as a sentry to check - my strayings? That honor was recreant where love would take the field - against it; that conscience was so much apostate of the right it would - frame an argument of equity and claim superior liberty for superior love, - and be all for carrying Peg away. My boasted manhood was a rope of sand! - </p> - <p> - Even now, as weary-white with years I tell this tale of dead and other - days, I yet wonder upon that discovery of myself. This was what I beheld: - I had loved Peg from the start; the General's jest was sober truth. I - would worship her, and then cheat myself with lie and sophistry to hide my - villainy against my own detection. And now when the mask was fallen and I - stood face to face with the true image of my infamy, would I still press - forward to my sins? Or would I think on the good General, and the pain and - the foul stain for each of us which I was about to compass? - </p> - <p> - It was this to run in my mind, but all in a dimmest way to be imagined, - and as though it were a dream and nothing true. As bonds to stay me, these - thoughts came to be no more than packthreads; as props to uphold me, - trembling to a fall, they proved the merest, reeds to lean on. With Peg - cradled in my arms, her heart beating on my own, she filled out the world - for me and thrust all else beyond the frontier of my outmost hope or fear. - I wanted only Peg, would heed no other call, and whether it were right or - wrong or black or white I cared not. Caught fast in the mills, I was - wholly ground between Peg and my mighty love for her. In a supreme egotism - and the selfishness that goes wanting heart or conscience, I would set - torch to the skies before I gave her up. - </p> - <p> - It is the fair wellhead of amazement how a man is thus strange to himself; - how he will defeat his own best prophecy and be as opposite as night and - day to all he promised. Folk have never accounted me weak, and I myself - would have said I was a man of stone. I have been described for one of - resolution. I have spurred my horse across the front of beaten troops, - terror-whipped and in retreat. I've ridden against them, and with word and - point of sword forced them to a halt. I've wheeled them, and, since they - would not go without, driven them back like sheep; and then, when they - would be of a braver hope, taken their lead and whirled them like lions - upon the foe they lately fled from, and won a battle with them. And now I, - who was granite in the face of men, had only a will of water for this girl - who wept across my heart. - </p> - <p> - “Take me away!” she cried; “oh, take me away!” - </p> - <p> - Then it was my love swept down upon her like a strong wind. I take shame - to repeat what I said. Bluntly I would disregard all claims, forfeit - honor, forget the General and defy the rest; we would wander to new - regions, she and I, and set up our idol of blind love. Carried by my - soul's wish, I would leave her nothing untold; I would bow down at her - feet and beg of her to come with me. - </p> - <p> - As I spoke, Peg would seem to turn more calm and comforted. She did not - withdraw from my arms, but rested in them like a child. And yet there - arose a sad steadfastness to wrap her about that was a check and a bar to - me. - </p> - <p> - “Watch-dog,” said Peg at last, and her manner was the manner of one who - grieves, “watch-dog, I am a wicked woman. I live my life backward, and it - would be as though I could not help or save myself. My feet take hold on - baseness, and my hands spin evil for those who do me good. My touch is a - darkness—a palsy—a death. Oh, why was I born!” Peg wailed; - “why was I sent to destroy the ones I love!” - </p> - <p> - Not a word would now come to me. I was silenced and sat like one - convicted, waiting sentence. But that cold thought still crept about my - heart like a snake. I would—I must have Peg; I would give my share - in God to make her mine! - </p> - <p> - “What should be the wrong in me?” Peg went on. “Knowing the right from the - left, I take ever the left hand turning; seeing good and evil, I choose - the bad, and there rises a black glory in my heart like a cloud of - pleasant sin to swallow up repentance. Oh, if I might only tame myself to - an appearance of right and be a hypocrite when I may not be a saint!” - </p> - <p> - Peg was presently better restored to herself. In the very moment when the - gates of my soul would open to let it forth to her and I gave myself into - her hands to be fashioned by her as she would, Peg began to gather - steadiness. It was she to now think and speak and decide for both of us; - for myself, I was clean swept away. I was not to know this new strength of - Peg's from her tones alone, or the trend of what she uttered; I could feel - her heart-throbs become firmer and more slow as she lay in my arms, and it - was in them I read the truth of her resolve. - </p> - <p> - “Watch-dog,” said Peg in a way most sweetly solemn, “I think nothing of - myself. If it were I alone to be unmade, I'd never leave your arms again. - Come weal, come woe, here would I bide, and while your arms were round me - the worst would change to be the best. But I will not see you under the - mire of men's tongues. Dear one, you would die! You are one whose life - grows on his honor like a flower on its stem; disgrace would cut you down - and you would die. And yet, I am glad I love you; I am glad I care nothing - for myself. Let my fate be woven to me coarse as sackcloth, harsh as - nettles, yet will I exult while I draw its folds about me. I will go on as - a world would say I should; and if the way of life lie steep, I'll still - climb on and think I toil for you; and if it be stony and if it bruise my - feet, I'll say I suffer that to keep you safe; I'll make my grief my Eden - and find in the endless woe of your surrender a nobler, higher, more - immortal transport than would have owned me in your arms. And there will - be another world!” Peg's tones swung low to my ear, and mystical. - “Watch-dog, there he lives after this.” - </p> - <p> - Peg was silent for a space, and would turn even and cool and in a way of - content. I, on my part, might neither say her yea nor nay, for I was in - the hollow of her hand like a pebble to be retained or cast by her into - the sea as she should conclude. - </p> - <p> - And somehow I was no longer in the dark. I loved her; and yet I knew Peg - was not to be for me; she had said the word; she would go and I would - stay; for all her soft beauty and that love for me which spoke in every - fiber of her being, the truth flowed in on me like a tide that in no way - might I change her or shape her or move her from her will. Against my - prayer and in the front of protest, I would be saved to myself and I would - lose her; she would do it all. What was it the General said? He would save - Peg from Peg? It was she who now would save me from both herself and me - when my love-sown madness was hot to make a wreck of all. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, watch-dog,” Peg continued dreamily, “there will come another life.” - Then of the suddenest twining her arms about my neck more tightly still - and until she clung there like a part of me, she cried out as though her - soul spoke: “Kiss me, sweetheart; kiss me, if it be but once. This night - at least is ours.” - </p> - <p> - It was she who would command. I grew drunken on her lips while my thoughts - would stray and stagger. I could know nothing, act nothing, be nothing - save as she would have me. Her hot arms were as the arms of summer - torrents to hurry me along; her lips were like the lips of a whirlpool! It - was a kiss—a kiss of the infinite—and would lay its velvet - touch upon the ultimate reason of existence. - </p> - <p> - And so Peg went away; and for my portion I took up my old life, which now - was as dark and chill and hollow as a cave. - </p> - <p> - Now what should there be more to tell? What matters it how secession hid - its head? or how Calhoun resigned his Vice-Presidency to later creep back - to a seat in that Senate where he had sat on high and ruled? or how the - General fought and slew the Bank? Who is there to care for the story of - the General's re-election, when Van Buren came with him for the second - place? Who, I say, would bend the ear of interest to such tales as those - when now our Peg was gone? - </p> - <p> - The General never again took up with me that matter of his Cabinet and its - dissolution, and how he scattered it to save Peg from herself. One - evening, however, as he smoked and I sat bitter and listless, I plumped a - question at him. - </p> - <p> - “If it were to save Peg from Peg,” said I, “why did you defer so long? Why - did not you disperse your Cabinet months before? Or was it that you failed - to note Peg's peril of herself till just before you acted?” This last with - a great sneer. - </p> - <p> - “It was plain to me from the beginning how Peg was won to you,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Then, in the beginning why did not you act?” - </p> - <p> - “How could I? Peg was under fire for her fair repute. Had I broken up my - Cabinet, it would have been Peg's death blow. Folk would have told how it - was for the war upon her and because she could not be defended. No, I must - give her time for triumph; that achieved, the rest might happen and she be - made secure in Florida. It was the one trail, and I followed it.” The - General came over to my chair. “Old comrade,” said he with a world of - goodness in his manner, “if I have thrust a thorn in your heart, forgive - me. If friendship can cure, that thorn will be plucked away.” - </p> - <p> - On another day the General was in a temper for abstract philosophies. It - lay in a hot time of summer and his moods flowed lazily. His fancy would - run away to the topic of woman and her helplessness. - </p> - <p> - “Beautiful and sweet, she is,” he was saying, “and a blessing, too; but - the man must ever bear upon his mind her weakness, and be her buckler even - from herself. He must be on guard for both. For she is as a child, and - nowise deep nor fortified of any rooted strength. Your man, on the other - hand, while wanting those traits of beauty which shine forth in woman like - the stars at night, is withal safe enough. He is cold like an iceberg, and - like an iceberg he rides steadily throughout every gale with nine-tenths - of him beneath the sea. Your tempest can go no deeper than the surface; it - cannot search the ocean's depths, and so the man swims safely.” - </p> - <p> - Where the General would have brought up in these tongue-wanderings one may - only guess. He was never to finish, for in a flurry of irritation I - interrupted him. - </p> - <p> - “Now let me tell you one thing,” said I, wheeling on him with a sort of - venom; “to my mind, your man is a dullish fool of neither bones nor - brains, and your woman has nothing to fear from him.” - </p> - <p> - “What's that?” cried the General, startled into letting fall his pipe; - “what do I hear you say?” - </p> - <p> - “And more,” I went on; “your man will do whatever your woman commands. He - will go or stay, or fetch or carry, or weep or laugh, or live or die by - the least breath of her lips. Your man is mere clay; your woman is the - potter to mould him and bake him and break him in form and fashion and - fragment as shall best flatter her caprice or most nicely match the color - of her fancy. For virtue, your man is a toad and your woman that blossom - by which he crouches. For power, your woman is the wind, while your man is - that poor scrap of nothing to be tossed thereon.” - </p> - <p> - “You are a cynic,” retorted the General with a snort, and after surveying - me for a moment with a warlike eye he sauntered away for another pipe. - </p> - <p> - “Your woman must save herself,” cried I, as he went through the door. “At - all events, if she have nothing stronger than your man to lean on, her - case is lost and desolate indeed.” - </p> - <p> - “You-all is plumb kerrect, Marse Major,” said Jim, who as usual had been - listening with flattering interest while the General and I discussed; - “you-all is plumb right. Man an' woman is jes' like a candle; he's - d'taller, she's d'wick. D'Marse General is a pow'ful fine soger an' all - that, but he shore don't know enough 'bout women folks to wad a gun.” - </p> - <p> - One day I got a little note from Peg. It was as though I held a sunbeam in - my fingers; I kissed it while my heart put up a prayer. Thus it ran: - </p> - <p> - “So, Watch-dog:—They have taken me and left you, and there be miles - between. Wherefore I feel very safe and very sad. It is all birds and - blossoms and trees and sunshine and bright days and sorrow here. I came - away in such a tumult of hurry I left many things behind. Most of them I - can do without, but I mislaid my love, and that grows to be a sore - distress. Here where I should need it I'm without it; there, where mayhap - it lies unregarded and uncared for, it can give me no good but only pain. - You may find it—my poor love!—since it should be something - close to you. It may be lying at your feet while you read this. Should you - come across it, even though you be in the art and press of president - making, don't forget to lift it up and save it and keep it warm upon your - heart for sake of little Peg. But I must cure me of this abject strain; I - too much beg where I should give commands. For are you not my slave? Look - if the small white mark of vassalage be not upon your hand! Do you find - it? Yes? Read it, then, and re-read it with your heart! Do you know the - promise it would tell you? By the sign of that white mark my tooth made, - it is given that now or then, or here or there, or in this life or in - that, your Peg will yet lay hands of love upon her slave.” - </p> - <p> - That was the last letter as it was the first—the last word from my - lost and vanished Peg. I have that letter by me as I write; it is yellow - and worn and stained and blistered as though with tears. That was my last - word from her, I say. And now when the winter of my days lies thick and - white and cold upon me, and those whom I loved are gone, while those to - come and go before me are strangers whose very names are strange, I wend - often to Peg's grave. There where the great stone fits down above her, and - resting myself upon that stone—there, by the door of death, I muse - upon the past. I kiss the stone above Peg—cold it is, cold as my - age-chilled lips! And I think on the time that was, with its hot lights to - dazzle and blind and make drunk the heart with the red splendors of them; - and on the time that will be—a shadow-land of unformed wonders! Then - will my old eyes come to search among the wrinkles for that small white - mark on my hand which Peg's loving leopard teeth ordained, and I feel - again that snowstorm kiss, while my hope, for a prayer, recites Peg's bond - to yet lay hands of love upon her slave. - </p> - <h3> - THE END. - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Peggy O'Neal, by Alfred Henry Lewis - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEGGY O'NEAL *** - -***** This file should be named 53992-h.htm or 53992-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/9/53992/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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