Glory

“What Alexander sighed for,
What Caesar’s soul possessed,
What heroes, saints have died for,
Glory!”

Within three days after his settlement with Black Donald, Colonel Le Noir left home to join his regiment, ordered to Mexico.

He was accompanied by his son Craven Le Noir as far as Baltimore, from which port the reinforcements were to sail for New Orleans, en route for the seat of war.

Here, at the last moment, when the vessel was about to weigh anchor, Craven Le Noir took leave of his father and set out for the Hidden House.

And here Colonel Le Noir’s regiment was joined by the company of new recruits in which Herbert Greyson held a commission as lieutenant, and thus the young man’s worst forebodings were realized in having for a traveling companion and superior officer the man of whom he had been destined to make a mortal enemy, Colonel Le Noir. However, Herbert soon marked out his course of conduct, which was to avoid Le Noir as much as was consistent with his own official duty, and, when compelled to meet him, to deport himself with the cold ceremony of a subordinate to a superior officer.

Le Noir, on his part, treated Herbert with an arrogant scorn amounting to insult, and used every opportunity afforded him by his position to wound and humiliate the young lieutenant.

After a quick and prosperous voyage they reached New Orleans, where they expected to be farther reinforced by a company of volunteers who had come down the Mississippi river from St. Louis. These volunteers were now being daily drilled at their quarters in the city, and were only waiting the arrival of the vessel to be enrolled in the regiment.

One morning, a few days after the ship reached harbor, Herbert Greyson went on shore to the military rendezvous to see the new recruits exercised. While he stood within the enclosure watching their evolutions under the orders of an officer, his attention became concentrated upon the form of a young man of the rank and file who was marching in a line with many others having their backs turned toward him. That form and gait seemed familiar the circumstances in which he saw them again painfully familiar. And yet he could not identify the man. While he gazed, the recruits, at the word of command, suddenly wheeled and faced about. And Herbert could scarcely repress an exclamation of astonishment and regret.

That young man in the dress of a private soldier was Clara Day’s betrothed, the widow’s only son, Traverse Rocke! While Herbert continued to gaze in surprise and grief, the young recruit raised his eyes, recognized his friend, flushed up to his very temples and cast his eyes down again. The rapid evolutions soon wheeled them around, and the next order sent them into their quarters.

Herbert’s time was also up, and he returned to his duty.

The next day Herbert went to the quarters of the new recruits and sought out his young friend, whom he found loitering about the grounds. Again Traverse blushed deeply as the young lieutenant approached. But Herbert Greyson, letting none of his regret appear, since now it would be worse than useless in only serving to give pain to the young private, went up to him cordially and shook his hands, saying:

“Going to serve your country, eh, Traverse? Well, I am heartily glad to see you, at any rate.”

“But heartily sorry to see me here, enlisted as a private in a company of raw recruits, looking not unlike Falstaff’s ragged regiment?”

“Nay; I did not say that, Traverse. Many a private in the ranks has risen to be a general officer,” replied Herbert, encouragingly.

Traverse laughed good humoredly, saying:

“It does not look much like that in my case. This dress,” he said, looking down at his coarse, ill-fitting uniform, cowhide shoes, etc.; “this dress, this drilling, these close quarters, coarse food and mixed company are enough to take the military ardor out of any one!”

“Traverse, you talk like a petit maitre, which is not at all your character. Effeminacy is not your vice.”

“Nor any other species of weakness, do you mean? Ah, Herbert, your aspiring hopeful, confident old friend is considerably taken down in his ideas of himself, his success and life in general! I went to the West with high hopes. Six months of struggling against indifference, neglect and accumulated debts lowered them down! I carried out letters and made friends, but their friendship began and ended in wishing me well. While trying to get into profitable practice I got into debt. Meanwhile I could not hear from my betrothed in all those months. An occasional letter from her might have prevented this step. But troubles gathered around me, debts increased and ”

“ Creditors were cruel. It is the old story; my poor boy!”

“No; my only creditors were my landlady and my laundress, two poor widows who never willingly distressed me, but who occasionally asked for ‘that little amount’ so piteously that my heart bled to lack it to give them. And as victuals and clean shirts were absolute necessaries of life, every week my debts increased. I could have faced a prosperous male creditor, and might, perhaps, have been provoked to bully such an one, had he been inclined to be cruel; but I could not face poor women who, after all, I believe, are generally the best friends a struggling young man can have; and so, not to bore a smart young lieutenant with a poor private’s antecedents ”

“Oh, Traverse ”

“ I will even make an end of my story. ’At last there came a weary day when hope and faith beneath the weight gave way.’ And, hearing that a company of volunteers was being raised to go to Mexico, I enlisted, sold my citizen’s wardrobe and my little medical library, paid my debts, made my two friends, the poor widows, some acceptable presents, sent the small remnant of the money to my mother, telling her that I was going farther south to try my fortune, and here I am.”

“You did not tell her that you had enlisted?”

“No.”

“Oh, Traverse, how long ago was it that you left St. Louis?”

“Just two weeks.”

“Ah! if you had only had patience for a few days longer!” burst unaware from Herbert’s bosom. In an instant he was sorry for having spoken thus, for Traverse, with all his soul in his eyes, asked eagerly:

“Why why, Herbert? What do you mean?”

“Why, you should know that I did not come direct from West Point, but from the neighborhood of Staunton and Hurricane Hall.”

“Did you? Oh, did you? Then you may be able to give me news of Clara and my dear mother,” exclaimed Traverse, eagerly.

“Yes, I am pleasant news,” said Herbert, hesitating in a manner which no one ever hesitated before in communicating good tidings.

“Thank heaven! oh, thank heaven! What is it, Herbert? How is my dear mother getting on? Where is my best Clara?”

“They are both living together at Willow Heights, according to the wishes of the late Doctor Day. A second appeal to the Orphans’ Court made in behalf of Clara by her next friend, Doctor Williams, about a month ago, proved more successful. And if you had waited a few days longer before enlisting and leaving St. Louis, you would have received a letter from Clara to the same effect, and one from Doctor Williams apprizing you that your mother had received her legacy, and that the thousand dollars left you by Doctor Day had been paid into the Agricultural Bank, subject to your orders.”

“Oh, heaven! had I but waited three days longer!” exclaimed Traverse, in such acute distress that Herbert hastened to console him by saying:

“Do not repine, Traverse; these things go by fate. It was your destiny let us hope it will prove a glorious one.”

“It was my impatience!” exclaimed Traverse. “It was my impatience! Doctor Day always faithfully warned me against it; always told me that most of the errors, sins and miseries of this world arose from simple impatience, which is want of faith. And now I know it! and now I know it! What had I, who had an honorable profession, to do with becoming a private soldier?”

“Well, well, it is honorable at least to serve your country,” said Herbert, soothingly.

“If a foreign foe invaded her shores, yes; but what had I to do with invading another’s country? enlisting for a war of the rights and wrongs of which I know no more than anybody else does? Growing impatient because fortune did not at once empty her cornucopia upon my head! Oh, fool!”

“You blame yourself too severely, Traverse. Your act was natural enough and justifiable enough, much as it is to be regretted,” said Herbert, cheerfully.

“Come, come, sit on this plank bench beside me if you are not ashamed to be seen with a private who is also a donkey and tell me all about it. Show me the full measure of the happiness I have so recklessly squandered away,” exclaimed Traverse, desperately.

“I will sit beside you and tell you everything you wish to know, on condition that you stop berating yourself in a manner that fills me with indignation,” replied Herbert, as they went to a distant part of the dusty enclosure and took their seats upon a rude bench.

“Oh, Herbert, bear with me; I could dash my wild, impatient head against a stone wall!”

“That would not be likely to clear or strengthen your brains,” said Herbert, who thereupon commenced and told Traverse the whole history of the persecution of Clara Day at the Hidden House; the interception of her letters; the attempt made to force her into a marriage with Craven Le Noir; her deliverance from her enemies by the address and courage of Capitola; her flight to Staunton and refuge with Mrs. Rocke; her appeal to the court, and finally her success and her settlement under the charge of her matronly friend at Willow Heights.

Traverse had not listened patiently to this account. He heard it with many bursts of irrepressible indignation and many involuntary starts of wild passion. Toward the last he sprang up and walked up and down, chafing like an angry lion in his cage.

“And this man,” he exclaimed, as Herbert concluded; “this demon! this beast! is now our commanding officer the colonel of our regiment.”

“Yes,” replied Herbert, “but as such you must not call him names; military rules are despotic; and this man, who knows your person and knows you to be the betrothed of Clara Day, whose hand and fortune he covets for his son, will leave no power with which his command invests him untried to ruin and destroy you! Traverse, I say these things to you that being ‘forewarned’ you maybe ‘forearmed.’ I trust that you will remember your mother and your betrothed, and for their dear sakes practise every sort of self-control, patience and forbearance under the provocations you may receive from our colonel. And in advising you to do this I only counsel that which I shall myself practise. I, too, am under the ban of Le Noir for the part I played in the church in succoring Capitola, as well as for happening to be ’the nephew of my uncle,’ Major Warfield, who is his mortal enemy.”

“I? Will I not be patient, after the lesson I have just learned upon the evils of the opposite? Be easy on my account, dear old friend, I will be as patient as Job, meek as Moses and long-suffering as my own sweet mother!” said Traverse, earnestly.

The drum was now heard beating to quarters, and Traverse, wringing his friend’s hand, left him.

Herbert returned to his ship full of one scheme, of which he had not spoken to Traverse lest it should prove unsuccessful. This scheme was to procure his free discharge before they should set sail for the Rio Grande. He had many influential friends among the officers of his regiment, and he was resolved to tell them as much as was delicate, proper and useful for them to know of the young recruit’s private history, in order to get their cooperation.

Herbert spent every hour of this day and the next, when off duty, in this service of his friend. He found his brother officers easily interested, sympathetic and propitious. They united their efforts with his own to procure the discharge of the young recruit, but in vain; the power of Colonel Le Noir was opposed to their influence and the application was peremptorily refused.

Herbert Greyson did not sit down quietly under this disappointment, but wrote an application embodying all the facts of the case to the Secretary of War, got it signed by all the officers of the regiment and despatched it by the first mail.

Simultaneously he took another important step for the interest of his friend. Without hinting any particular motive, he had begged Traverse to let him have his photograph taken, and the latter, with a laugh at the lover-like proposal, had consented. When the likeness was finished Herbert sent it by express to Major Warfield, accompanied by a letter describing the excellent character and unfortunate condition of Traverse, praying the major’s interest in his behalf and concluding by saying:

“You cannot look upon the accompanying photograph of my friend and any longer disclaim your own express image in your son.”

How this affected the action of Old Hurricane will be seen hereafter.

Traverse, knowing nothing of the efforts that had been and were still being made for his discharge, suffered neither disappointment for failure of the first nor anxiety for the issue of the last.

He wrote to his mother and Clara, congratulating them on their good fortune; telling them that he, in common with many young men of St. Louis, had volunteered for the Mexican War; that he was then in New Orleans, en route for the Rio Grande, and that they would be pleased to know that their mutual friend, Herbert Greyson, was an officer in the same regiment of which he himself was at present a private, but with strong hopes of soon winning his épaulettes. He endorsed an order for his mother to draw the thousand dollars left him by Doctor Day, and he advised her to re-deposit the sum in her own name for her own use in case of need. Praying God’s blessing upon them all, and begging their prayers for himself, Traverse concluded his letter, which he mailed the same evening.

And the next morning the company was ordered on board and the whole expedition set sail for the Rio Grande.

Now, we might just as easily as not accompany our troops to Mexico and relate the feats of arms there performed with the minuteness and fidelity of an eye-witness, since we have sat at dinner-tables where the heroes of that war have been honored guests, and where we have heard them fight their battles o’er till “thrice the foe was slain and thrice the field was won.”

We might follow the rising star of our young lieutenant, as by his own merits and others’ mishaps he ascended from rank to rank, through all the grades of military promotion, but need not because the feats of Lieutenant Captain Major and Colonel Greyson, are they not written in the chronicles of the Mexican War?

We prefer to look after our little domestic heroine, our brave little Cap, who, when women have their rights, shall be a lieutenant-colonel herself. Shall she not, gentlemen?

In one fortnight from this time, while Mrs. Rocke and Clara were still living comfortably at Willow Heights and waiting anxiously to hear from Traverse, whom they still supposed to be practising his profession at St. Louis, they received his last letter written on the eve of his departure for the seat of war. At first the news overwhelmed them with grief, but then they sought relief in faith, answered his letter cheerfully and commended him to the infinite mercy of God.