Socola hastened, through Jennie, to cultivate the acquaintance of Senator Davis.
"You\'ll be delighted with Mrs. Davis, too," the girl informed him with enthusiasm. "His second love affair you know—this time, late in life, he married the young accomplished granddaughter of Governor Howell of New Jersey. Their devotion is beautiful—"
The train had barely pulled out of the station before Socola found himself in a delightful conversation with the Senator. To his amazement he discovered that the Southerner was a close student of European statesmanship and well informed on the conditions of modern Italy.
"I am delighted beyond measure, Signor," he said earnestly, "to learn of the interest of your King in the South. I have long felt that Cavour was one of the greatest statesmen and diplomats of the world. His achievement in establishing the Kingdom of Sardinia in the face of the bitter rivalries and ambitions of Europe, to say nothing of the power of Rome, was in itself enough to mark him as the foremost man of his age."
"The King has great ambitions, Senator. Very shortly his title will be King of Italy. He dreams of uniting all Italians."
"And if it is possible, the Piedmontese are the people ordained for leadership in that sublime work—"
He looked thoughtfully out of the window at the Virginia hills and Socola determined to change the conversation. He was fairly well informed of the affairs in the little Kingdom on whose throne young Victor Emmanuel sat, but this man evidently knew the philosophy of its history as well as the facts. A question or two with his keen eye boring through him might lead to an unpleasant situation.
"Your family are all with you, Senator?" he asked pleasantly.
Instantly the clouds lifted from the pale, thoughtful face.
"Yes—I\'ve three darling babies. I wish you to meet Mrs. Davis—come, they are in the next car."
In a moment the statesman had forgotten the storm of revolution. He was laughing and playing with his children. However stern and high his uncompromising opinions might be on public questions, he was wax in the hands of the two lovely boys who climbed over him and the vivacious little girl who slipped her arms about his neck. His respite from care was brief. At the first important stop in Virginia a dense crowd had packed the platforms. Their cries throbbed with anything but the spirit of delay and compromise.
"Davis!"
"Hurrah for Jefferson Davis!"
"Speech—speech!"
"Davis!"
"Speech!"
There was something tense and compelling in the tones of these cries. They rang as bugle calls to battle. In their hum and murmur there was more than curiosity—more than the tribute of a people to their leader. There was in the very sound the electric rush of the first crash of the approaching storm. The man inside who had led soldiers to death on battle fields felt it instantly and the smile died on his thin lips. The roar outside his car window was not the cry of a mob echoing the sentiments of a leader. It was the shrill imperial cry of a rising people creating their leaders.
From the moment he bowed his head and lifted his hand over the crowd that greeted him, hopeless sorrow filled his soul.
War was inevitable.
These people did not realize it. But he saw it now in all its tragic import. He had intended to counsel patience, moderation and delay. Before the hot breath of the storm he felt already in his face such advice was a waste of words. He would tell them the simple truth. He could do most good in that way. These fiery, impulsive Southern people were tired of argument, tired of compromise, tired of delay. They were reared in the faith that their States were sovereign. And these Virginians had good reason for their faith. The bankers of Europe had but yesterday refused to buy the bonds of the United States Government unless countersigned by the State of Virginia!
These people not only believed in the sovereignty of their States and their right to withdraw from the union when they saw fit, but they could not conceive the madness of the remaining States attempting to use force to hold them. They knew, too, that millions of Northern voters were as clear on that point as the people of the South.
Their spokesman, Horace Greeley, in The Tribune had said again and again:
"If the Southern States are mad enough to withdraw from the union, they must go. We cannot prevent it. Let our erring sisters go in peace."
The people before him believed that Horace Greeley\'s paper represented the North in this utterance. Davis knew that it was not true.
In a flash of clear soul vision he saw the inevitable horror of the coming struggle and determined to tell the people so.
The message he delivered was a distinct shock. He not only told them in tones of deep and tender emotion that war was inevitable, but that it would be long and bloody.
"We\'ll lick \'em in two months!" a voice yelled in protest and the crowd cheered.
The leader shook his fine head.
"Don\'t deceive yourselves, my friends. War once begun, no man can predict its end—"
"It won\'t begin!" another cried.
"You have convinced me to-day that it is now inevitable."
"The Yankees won\'t fight!" shouted a big fellow in front.
The speaker bent his gaze on the stalwart figure in remonstrance.
"You never made a worse mistake in your life, my friend. I warn you—I know these Yankees. Once in it they\'ll fight with grim, dogged, sullen, unyielding courage. We\'re men of the same blood. They live North, you South—that\'s all the difference."
At every station the same scene was enacted. The crowd rushed around his car with the sudden sweep of a whirlwind, and left for their homes with grave, thoughtful faces.
By three o\'clock in the afternoon he was thoroughly exhausted by the strain. The eager crowds had sapped his last ounce of vitality.
The conductor of the train looked at him with pity and whispered:
"I\'ll save you at the next station."
The leader smiled his gratitude for the sympathy but wondered how it could be done.
At the next stop, the Senator had just taken his position on the rear platform, lifted his hand for silence and said:
"Friends and fellow citizens—"
The engine suddenly blew off steam with hiss and roar and when it ceased the train pulled out with a jerk amid the shouts and protests of the crowd. The grateful speaker waved his hand in regretful but happy farewell.
The conductor repeated the trick for three stations until the exhausted speaker had recovered his strength and then allowed him a few brief remarks at each stop.
From the moment the train entered the State of Mississippi, grim, earnest men in groups of two, three, four and a dozen stepped on board, saluted their Chief and took their seats.
When the engine pulled into the station at Jackson a full brigade of volunteer soldiers had taken their places in the ranks.
The Governor and state officials met their leader and grasped his hand.
"You have been commissioned, Senator," the Governor began eagerly, "as Major-General in command of the forces of the State of Mississippi. Four Brigadier-Generals have been appointed and await your assignment for duty."
The tall figure of the hero of Buena Vista suddenly stiffened.
"I thank you. Governor, for the high honor conferred on me. No service could be more congenial to my feelings at this moment."
The Governor waved his hand at the crowd of silent waiting men. "Your men are ready—the first question is the purchase of arms. I think a stand of 75,000 will be sufficient for all contingencies?"
The Senator spoke with emphasis:
"The limit of your purchases should be our power to pay—"
"You can\'t mean it!" the Governor exclaimed.
"I repeat it—the limit of your purchase of arms should be the power to pay. I say this to every State in the South. We shall need all we can get and many more I fear."
The Governor laughed.
"General, you overrate our risks!"
"On the other hand," Davis continued earnestly, "we are sure to underestimate them at every turn."
He paused, overcome with emotion.
"A great war is impending, Governor, whose end no man can foresee. We are not prepared for it. We have no arms, we have no ammunition and we have no establishments to manufacture them. The South has never realized and does not now believe that the North will fight her on the issue of secession. They do not understand the silent growth of the power of centralization which has changed the opinions of the North under the teaching of Abolition fanatics—"
Again he paused, overcome.
"God help us!" he continued. "War is a terrible calamity even when waged against aliens and strangers—our people are mad. They know not what they do!"
The new Commander hurried to Briarfield, his plantation home, to complete his preparations for a long absence.
Socola on a sudden impulse asked the honor of accompanying him. It was granted without question and with cordial hospitality.
It was an opportunity not to be lost. An intimate view of this man in his home might be of the utmost importance. He promised Jennie to hasten to Fairview when he had spent two days at Briarfield. Mrs. Barton was glad of the opportunity to set her house in order for her charming and interesting guest.
The Davis plantati............