UNDER MRS. MERRIWETHER’S GOADING, Dr. Meade took action, in the form of a letter tothe newspaper wherein be did not mention Rhett by name, though his meaning was obvious. Theeditor, sensing the social drama of the letter, put it on the second page of the paper, in itself astartling innovation, as the first two pages of the paper were always devoted to advertisements ofslaves, mules, plows, coffins, houses for sale or rent, cures for private diseases, abortifacients andrestoratives for lost manhood.
The doctor’s letter was the first of a chorus of indignation that was beginning to be heard allover the South against speculators, profiteers and holders of government contracts. Conditions inWilmington, the chief blockade port, now that Charleston’s port was practically sealed by theYankee gunboats, had reached the proportions of an open scandal. Speculators swarmedWilmington and, having the ready cash, bought up boatloads of goods and held them for a rise inprices. The rise always came, for with the increasing scarcity of necessities, prices leaped higherby the month. The civilian population had either to do without or buy at the speculators’ prices,and the poor and those in moderate circumstances were suffering increasing hardships. With therise in prices, Confederate money sank, and with its rapid fall there rose a wild passion forluxuries. Blockaders were commissioned to bring in necessities but now it was the higher-pricedluxuries that filled their boats to the exclusion of the things the Confederacy vitally needed. Peoplefrenziedly bought these luxuries with the money they had today, fearing that tomorrow’s priceswould be higher and the money worthless.
To make matters worse, there was only one railroad line from Wilmington to Richmond and,while thousands of barrels of flour and boxes of bacon spoiled and rotted in wayside stations forwant of transportation, speculators with wines, taffetas and coffee to sell seemed always able to gettheir goods to Richmond two days after they were landed at Wilmington.
The rumor which had been creeping about underground was now being openly discussed, thatRhett Butler not only ran his own four boats and sold the cargoes at unheard-of prices but boughtup the cargoes of other boats and held them for rises in prices. It was said that he was at the headof a combine worth more than a million dollars, with Wilmington as its headquarters for the purposeof buying blockade goods on the docks. They had dozens of warehouses in that city and inRichmond, so the story ran, and the warehouses were crammed with food and clothing that werebeing held for higher prices. Already soldiers and civilians alike were feeling the pinch, and themuttering against him and his fellow speculators was bitter.
“There are many brave and patriotic men in the blockade arm of the Confederacy’s navalservice,” ran the last of the doctor’s letter, “unselfish men who are risking their lives and all theirwealth that the Confederacy may survive. They are enshrined in the hearts of all loyal Southerners,and no one begrudges them the scant monetary returns they make for their risks. They are unselfishgentlemen, and we honor them. Of these men, I do not speak.
“But there are other scoundrels who masquerade under the cloak of the blockader for their ownselfish gains, and I call down the just wrath and vengeance of an embattled people, fighting in thejustest of Causes, on these human vultures who bring in satins and laces when our men are dyingfor want of quinine, who load their boats with tea and wines when our heroes are writhing for lack of morphia. I execrate these vampires who are sucking the lifeblood of the men who follow RobertLee—these men who are making the very name of blockader a stench in the nostrils of all patrioticmen. How can we endure these scavengers in our midst with their varnished boots when our boysare tramping barefoot into battle? How can we tolerate them with their champagnes and their patesof Strasbourg when our soldiers are shivering about their camp fires and gnawing moldy bacon? Icall upon every loyal Confederate to cast them out.”
Atlanta read, knew the oracle had spoken, and, as loyal Confederates, they hastened to castRhett out.
Of all the homes which had received him in the fall of 1862, Miss Pittypat’s was almost the onlyone into which he could enter in 1863. And, except for Melanie, he probably would not have beenreceived there. Aunt Pitty was in a state whenever he was in town. She knew very well what herfriends were saying when she permitted him to call but she still lacked the courage to tell him hewas unwelcome. Each time he arrived in Atlanta, she set her fat mouth and told the girls that shewould meet him at the door and forbid him to enter. And each time he came, a little package in hishand and a compliment for her charm and beauty on his lips, she wilted.
“I just don’t know what to do,” she would moan. “He just looks at me and I—I’m scared todeath of what he would do if I told him. He’s got such a bad reputation. Do you suppose he wouldstrike me—or—or— Oh, dear, if Charlie were only alive! Scarlett, you must tell him not to callagain—tell him in a nice way. Oh, me! I do believe you encourage him, and the whole town istalking and, if your mother ever finds out, what will she say to me? Melly, you must not be so niceto him. Be cool and distant and he will understand. Oh, Melly, do you think I’d better write Henrya note and ask him to speak to Captain Butler?”
“No, I don’t,” said Melanie. “And I won’t be rude to him, either. I think people are acting likechickens with their heads off about Captain Butler. I’m sure he can’t be all the bad things Dr.
Meade and Mrs. Merriwether say he is. He wouldn’t hold food from starving people. Why, he evengave me a hundred dollars for the orphans. I’m sure he’s just as loyal and patriotic as any of us andhe’s just too proud to defend himself. You know how obstinate men are when they get their backsup.”
Aunt Pitty knew nothing about men, either with their backs up or otherwise, and she could onlywave her fat little hands helplessly. As for Scarlett, she had long ago become resigned to Melanie’shabit of seeing good in everyone. Melanie was a fool, but there was nothing anybody could doabout it.
Scarlett knew that Rhett was not being patriotic and, though she would have died rather thanconfess it, she did not care. The little presents he brought her from Nassau, little oddments that alady could accept with propriety, were what mattered most to her. With prices as high as they were,where on earth could she get needles and bonbons and hairpins, if she forbade the house to him?
No, it was easier to shift the responsibility to Aunt Pitty, who after all was the head of the house,the chaperon and the arbiter of morals. Scarlett knew the town gossiped about Rhett’s calls, andabout her too; but she also knew that in the eyes of Atlanta Melanie Wilkes could do no wrong, andif Melanie defended Rhett his calls were still tinged with respectability.
However, life would be pleasanter if Rhett would recant his heresies. She wouldn’t have to suffer the embarrassment of seeing him cut openly when she walked down Peachtree Street withhim.
“Even if you think such things, why do you say them?” she scolded. “If you’d just think whatyou please but keep your mouth shut, everything would be so much nicer.”
“That’s your system, isn’t it, my green-eyed hypocrite? Scarlett, Scarlett! I hoped for morecourageous conduct from you. I thought the Irish said what they thought and the Divvil take thehindermost. Tell me truthfully, don’t you sometimes almost burst from keeping your mouth shut?”
“Well—yes,” Scarlett confessed reluctantly. “I do get awfully bored when they talk about theCause, morning, noon and night. But goodness, Rhett Butler, if I admitted it nobody would speakto me and none of the boys would dance with me!”
“Ah, yes, and one must be danced with, at all costs. Well, I admire your self-control but I do notfind myself equal to it. Nor can I masquerade in a cloak of romance and patriotism, no matter howconvenient it might be. There are enough stupid patriots who are risking every cent they have inthe blockade and who are going to come out of this war paupers. They don’t need me among theirnumber, either to brighten the record of patriotism or to increase the roll of paupers, Let them havethe haloes. They deserve them—for once I am being sincere—and, besides, haloes will be about allthey will have in a year or so.”
“I think you are very nasty to even hint such things when you know very well that England andFrance are coming in on our side in no time and—”
“Why, Scarlett! You must have been reading a newspaper! I’m surprised at you. Don’t do itagain. It addles women’s brains. For your information, I was in England, not a month ago, and I’lltell you this. England will never help the Confederacy. England never bets on the underdog. That’swhy she’s England. Besides, the fat Dutch woman who is sitting on the throne is a God-fearingsoul and she doesn’t approve of slavery. Let the English mill workers starve because they can’t getour cotton but never, never strike a blow for slavery. And as for France, that weak imitation ofNapoleon is far too busy establishing the French in Mexico to be bothered with us. In fact hewelcomes this war, because it keeps us too busy to run his troops out of Mexico. ... No, Scarlett,the idea of assistance from abroad is just a newspaper invention to keep up the morale of theSouth. The Confederacy is doomed. It’s living on its hump now, like the camel, and even thelargest of humps aren’t inexhaustible. I give myself about six months more of blockading and thenI’m through. After that, it will be too risky. And I’ll sell my boats to some foolish Englishman whothinks he can slip them through. But one way or the other, it’s not bothering me. I’ve made moneyenough, and it’s in English banks and in gold. None of this worthless paper for me.”
As always when he spoke, he sounded so plausible. Other people might call his utterancestreachery but, to Scarlett, they always rang with common sense and truth. And she knew that thiswas utterly wrong, knew she should be shocked and infuriated. Actually she was neither, but shecould pretend to be. It made her feel more respectable and ladylike.
“I think what Dr. Meade wrote about was right, Captain Butler. The only way to redeem yourselfis to enlist after you sell your boats. You’re a West Pointer and—”
“You talk like a Baptist preacher making a recruiting speech. Suppose I don’t want to redeem myself? Why should I fight to uphold the system that cast me out? I shall take pleasure in seeing itsmashed.”
“I never heard of any system,” she said crossly.
“No? And yet you are a part of it, like I was, and I’ll wager you don’t like it any more than I did.
Well, why am I the black sheep of the Butler family? For this reason and no other—I didn’tconform to Charleston and I couldn’t. And Charleston is the South, only intensified. I wonder ifyou realize yet what a bore it is? So many things that one must do because they’ve always beendone. So many things, quite harmless, that one must not do for the same reason. So many thingsthat annoyed me by their senselessness. Not marrying the young lady, of whom you have probablyheard, was merely the last straw. Why should I marry a boring fool, simply because an accidentprevented me from getting her home before dark? And why permit her wild-eyed brother to shootand kill me, when I could shoot straighter? If I had been a gentleman, of course, I would have lethim kill me and that would have wiped the blot from the Butler escutcheon. But—I like to live.
And so I’ve lived and I’ve had a good time. ... When I think of my brother, living among the sacredcows of Charleston, and most reverent toward them, and remember his stodgy wife and his SaintCecilia Balls and his everlasting rice fields—then I know the compensation for breaking with thesystem. Scarlett, our Southern way of living is as antiquated as the feudal system of the MiddleAges. The wonder is that it’s lasted as long as it has. It had to go and it’s going now. And yet youexpect me to listen to orators like Dr. Meade who tell me our Cause is just and holy? And get soexcited by the roll of drums that I’ll grab a musket and rush off to Virginia to shed my blood forMarse Robert? What kind of a fool do you think I am? Kissing the rod that chastised me is not inmy line. The South and I are even now. The South threw me out to starve once. I haven’t starved,and I am making enough money out of the South’s death throes to compensate me for my lostbirthright.”
“I think you are vile and mercenary,” said Scarlett, but her remark was automatic. Most of whathe was saying went over her head, as did any conversation that was not personal. But part of itmade sense. There were such a lot of foolish things about life among nice people. Having topretend that her heart was in the grave when it wasn’t. And how shocked everybody had beenwhen she danced at the bazaar. And the infuriating way people lifted their eyebrows every time shedid or said anything the least bit different from what every other young woman did and said. Butstill, she was jarred at hearing him attack the very traditions that irked her most. She had lived toolong among people who dissembled politely not to feel disturbed at hearing her own thoughts putinto words.
“Mercenary? No, I’m only farsighted. Though perhaps that is merely a synonym for mercenary.
At least, people who were not as farsighted as I will call it that. Any loyal Confederate who had athousand dollars in cash in 1861 could have done what I did, but how few were mercenary enoughto take advantage of their opportunities! As for instance, right after Fort Sumter fell and before theblockade was established, I bought up several thousand bales of cotton at dirt-cheap prices and ranthem to England. They are still there in warehouses in Liverpool. I’ve never sold them. I’mholding them until the English mills have to have cotton and will give me any price I ask. Iwouldn’t be surprised if I got a dollar a pound.”
“You’ll get a dollar a pound when elephants roost in trees!”
“I’ll believe I’ll get it. Cotton is at seventy-two cents a pound already. I’m going to be a richman when this war is over, Scarlett, because I was farsighted—pardon me, mercenary. I told youonce before that there were two times for making big money, one in the upbuilding of a countryand the other in its destruction. Slow money on the upbuilding, fast money in the crack-up.
Remember my words. Perhaps they may be of use to you some day.”
“I do appreciate good advice so much,” said Scarlett, with all the sarcasm she could muster.
“But I don’t need your advice. Do you think Pa is a pauper? He’s got all the money I’ll ever needand then I have Charles’ property besides.”
“I imagine the French aristocrats thought practically the same thing until the very moment whenthey climbed into the tumbrils.”
Frequently Rhett pointed out to Scarlett the inconsistency of her wearing black mourning clotheswhen she was participating in all social activities. He liked bright colors and Scarlett’s funeraldresses and the crêpe veil that hung from her bonnet to her heels both amused him and offendedhim. But she clung to her dull black dresses and her veil, knowing that if she changed them forcolors without waiting several more years, the town would buzz even more than it was alreadybuzzing. And besides, how would she ever explain to her mother?
Rhett said frankly that the crêpe veil made her look like a crow and the black dresses added tenyears to her age. This ungallant statement sent her flying to the mirror to see if she really did looktwenty-eight instead of eighteen.
“I should think you’d have more pride than to try to look like Mrs. Merriwether,” he taunted.
“And better taste than to wear that veil to advertise a grief I’m sure you never felt. I’ll lay a wagerwith you. I’ll have that bonnet and veil off your head and a Paris creation on it within twomonths.”
“Indeed, no, and don’t let’s discuss it any further,” said Scarlett, annoyed by his reference toCharles. Rhett, who was preparing to leave for Wilmington for another trip abroad, departed with agrin on his face.
One bright summer morning some weeks later, he reappeared with a brightly trimmed hatbox inhis hand and, after finding that Scarlett was alone in the house, he opened it. Wrapped in layers oftissue was a bonnet, a creation that made her cry: “Oh, the darling thing!” as she reached for it.
Starved for the sight, much less the touch, of new clothes, it seemed the loveliest bonnet she hadever seen. It was of dark-green taffeta, lined with water silk of a pale-jade color. The ribbons thattied under the chin were as wide as her hand and they, too, were pale green. And, curled about thebrim of this confection was the perkiest of green ostrich plumes.
“Put it on,” said Rhett, smiling.
She flew across the room to the mirror and plopped it on her head, pushing back her hair toshow her earrings and tying the ribbon under her chin.
“How do I look?” she cried, pirouetting for his benefit and tossing her head so that the plumedanced. But she knew she looked pretty even before she saw confirmation in his eyes. She looked attractively saucy and the green of the lining made her eyes dark emerald and sparkling.
“Oh, Rhett, whose bonnet is it? I’ll buy it. I’ll give you every cent I’ve got for it.”
“It’s your bonnet,” he said. “Who else could wear that shade of green? Don’t you think I carriedthe color of your eyes well in my mind?”
“Did you really have it trimmed just for me?”
“Yes, and there’s ‘Rue de la Paix’ on the box, if that means anything to you.”
It meant nothing to her, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. Just at this moment, nothingmattered to her except that she looked utterly charming in the first pretty hat she had put on herhead in two years. What she couldn’t do with this hat! And then her smile faded.
“Don’t you like it?”
“Oh, it’s a dream but— Oh, I............