The coward. A novel of society and the field in 1863

Front matter

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Cornell University Library PS 2433.M33C8

The coward.A novel of society and the fi

Preface

Some persons, .taking up this work with expectations more or less elevate^ may possibly Jay it down with disappointment after perusal, because it does not discuss with sharp personalities, as the title may have led them to suppose, the conduct of some of those well-known men connected with the Union Army, who have disgracefully faltered on the field. But the truth is that the Union Army has mustered very few cowards — so few, that a distinguished artist, not long ago called on to draw an ideal head of one of that class, said : " Beally it is so long since I have seen a coward, that I scarcely know how to go about it I" The aim of the writer, eschewing all such tempting personalities, and quite as carefully avoiding all dry didactic discussion of the theme of courage and its opposite, — has principally been to illustrate the tendency of many men to misunderstand their own characters in certain particulars, and the inevitable consequence of their being misunderstood by the world,

in one direction or the other. No apology is felt to be

22 PREFACE.

necessary for the length at which the scenery of the White Mountains, their actualities of interest and possibilities of danger, have been introduced into the narration ; nor is it believed that the chain of connection with the great contest' will be found the weaker because the glimpses given of it are somewhat more brief than in preceding publications of the same series. In those portions the writer has again occasion to acknowledge the assistance of the same capable hand which supplied much of the war data for both of his previous volumes.

New Yobk City, July 1st, 1864.

CHAPTER I. A June Morning of Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-three — Glimpses

of West Philadelphia — The Days before Gettysburgh—

The Two on the Piazza — Margaret Hayley and Elsie

Brand — An Embrace and a Difference — Foreshadowings of

Carlton Brand, Brother and Lover 29

•

Chapter II

The Coming of Carlton Brand — Almost a Paladin of Balaclava — Brother and Sister — A Spasm of Shame — The Confession —The Coward — How Margaret Hayley heard Many Words not intended for her — The Rupture and the Separation... 45

Chapter III

Kitty Hood and her School -house — Dick Compton going Soldiering— A Lover's Quarrel, a bit of Jealousy, and a Threat — How Dick Compton met his supposed Rival — An Encounter, Sudden Death, and Kitty Hood's terrible Discovery.. 61

Chapter IV

The Residence of the Brands — Robert Brand and Dr. Pomeroy — Radical and Copperhead — A passage-at-arms that ended in a Quarrel — Elspeth Graeme the Housekeeper — The Shadow of Shame— Father and- Daughter— The falling of a parent's Curse 81

24 CONTENTS.

PAGE.

Chapter V

The Birth and Blood of the Brands — Pride that came down from the Crusades — Robert Brand as Soldier and Pension- Agent — How Elsie raved, and how the Father's Curse seemed to be answered— Dr. James Holton, and the loss of a Corpus Delicti............™. , 99

x CHAPTER VI.

The Residence of Dr. Pomeroy— Nathan Bladesden and Eleanor Hill — A kneeling Woman and a rigid Quaker — The rain that a Letter had wrought — A Parting that seemed eternal— Carlton Brand alive once more, and a Glance at the fatal Letter 120

CHAPTER Til.

A return to 1836— Nicholas Hill, Iron-merchant— His Death, , his Daughter, and his Friend— How Dr. Pomeroy became a Guardian and how he Discharged that duty— A ruin and an awakening — The market value of Dunderhaven Stock in 1858 „ «..„„ 137

CHAPTER VIII.

What followed the revelation of Betrayal — A gleam of Hope for Eleanor Hill — A relative from California, a projected Voyage, »nd a Disappointment — One more Letter-^The broken thread resumed — Carlton Brand's farewell, and an Elopement. , , .„ ._ „, i64

CHAPTER IX.

Dr. Porm«roy,8 purposed Pursuit— A plain Quaker wTro used very plain -Language— Almost a Fight— How Mrs. Burton Hayiey consoled her Daughter, and how Margaret revealed the Past— A Compact— Dr. Pomeroys Canine Adventure — Old Elspeth once more— A Search that found Nothing. 174

COWTBKTS. 25

PA8B.

CHAPTER X

Before and after Gtettysburgh— The Apathy and Despair which preceded, and the Jubilation which followed— What Kitty Hood said after the Battle, and what Robert Brand -—Brothel .and Sister— A guest at the Fifth Avenue

. ; Hotel— A fire-room Visit, an Interview, and a Departure

for Europe 200

CHAPTER XL- Anomalies of the War for the Union— The Watering-place rush of 1863 — A White Mountain party disembarking at littleton — Who filled the Concord coach— The Vanderlyns — Shoddy on its travels — Mr. Brooks Cunninghams and his Family— " H. T." and an Excitement 219

CHAPTER XII.

Landing at the Profile House — Halstead Rowan and Gymnastics ■ —How that person saw Clara Vanderlyn and became a Rival of " H. T."— The Full Moon in the Notch— Trodden Toes, a Name, a Voice, and a Rencontre — Margaret Hayley and Cap t. Hector Coles — The Old Man of the Mountain by Moonlight, and a Mystery , 237

CHAPTER XIII, Miss Clara Vanderlyn and her Pet Bears— iA misadventure and a Friendly Hand in time — The question of Courage — Halstead Rowan and Mrs. Brooks Cunninghame on Geography— The Dead Washington, the Flume and the Pool — With the personal relations weaving at that juncture. 255

CHAPTER XIV.

A disaster to Master Brooks Brooks Cunninghame — Exit into the bottom of the Pool — Nobody that could swim, and Margaret Hayley in Excitement — " H. T." in his element, in two senses — Another Introduction and a new Hero — Scenes in the Profile parloT— Rowan and Clara Vanderlyn — Th« Insult , 279

26 C O N T E ST T s .

CHAPTER XV.

How Halstead Rowan arranged that expected Duel — Ten-pins versus bloodshed — Some anxiety about identity— The "H. T." initials, again — A farewell to the Brooks Cunninghames — An hour on Echo Lake, with a Rhapsody and a strangely-interested Listener 298

CHAPTER XVI.

Cloud and Storm at the Profile — Sights and Sensations of a rainyday ride to the Crawford — Horace Townsend and Halstead Rowan once more together — Unexpected Arrivals — A cavalcade of Miserables — An ascent of Mount Washington, with Equestrianism and War-whoops extraordinary. 323

CHAPTER XVII.

Horace Townsend with a Lady in charge — An adventure over * the " Gulf of Mexico" — Clara Vanderlyn in deadly peril — A moment of horror — Halstead Rowan and a display of the Comanche -riding — Townsend's eclipse — The return to the Crawford — Margaret Hayley again, and a Conversation overheard iis# 348

CHAPTER XVIII.

Horace Townsend and Margaret Hayley— A strange Rencontre in the Parlor — Another Rencontre, equally strange but less pleasant— How Clara Vanderlyn faded away from the Mountains— And how the Comanche Rider "played baby" and disappeared... , 370

CHAPTER XIX.

A strange Character at breakfast—" The Rambler," and his Antecedents—What Horace Townsend heard about Fate- Going up to Pic-nic on Mount Willard— The Plateau, the Rope and the Swing— Spreading the Banquet— The dinner-call aud a cry which answered it— A fearful situation. 393

CONTENTS. 27

PAOB.

CHAPTER XX.

Suspense in danger, in two Senses — Horace Townsend with a Swing-rope — An invitation to Captain Hector Coles — A fearful piece of Amateur Gymnastics — Going down into the Sohute — Success or Failure? — The event, and Margaret Hayley's madness — Two unfortunate Declarations. 410

CHAPTER XXI.

The bearer of a Disgraced Name in England— A strange Quest and a strange Unrest — Hurrying over to Ireland — Too late for the Packet — The little Despatch-steamer — Henry Fitzmaurice, the journalist—The peril of the Emerald, and the end of all Quests save one 432

CHAPER XXII.

Fleasanton's advance on Culpeper — Crossing the Rappahannock — The fight and the calamity of Rawson's Cross-Roads — Taking of Culpeper — Pleasanton's Volunteer Aide— Townsend versus Coles — The meeting of Two who loved each other — And the Little Ride they took together 452

CHAPTER XXIII.

Once more at West Philadelphia — September and Change — Last glimpses of Kitty Hood and Dick Compton — Robert Brand and his invited Guest — The news of Death — Old Elspeth Graeme as a Seeress — The dispatoh from Alexandria — The Quest of Brand and Margaret Hayley ,.. 478

CHAPTER XXIV.

In the Hospital at Alexandria — The wounded Man and his Nurse — Who was Horace Townsend ?— A Mystery explained — How Eleanor Hill went back to Dr. Pomeroy's — One word more of the Comanche Rider— Conclusion 490

THE COWARD.

Chapter I

A Junk Morning of Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-three — Glimpses of West Philadelphia — The Dats before Gettysburg — The Two on the Piazza -<- Margaret Haylet and Elsie Brands — An Embrace and a Difference— Foreshadowings of Carlton Brand/Brother and Lover.

A wide piazza, with the columns made of such light tracery in scrolled plank-work that they seemed to be almost unreal and gave an appearance of etheriality to the whole front of the house. The piazza, flecked over with the golden June sunshine that stole down between the branches of the tall trees standing in front and shading the house, and that crept in through the network of twine and climbing roses clambering almost up to the roof from the balustrade below. The house to which the piazza adjoined, large, built of wood in that half Flemish and half Elizabethan style which has of late years been made popular through cheap books on cottage architecture and the illustrations in agricultural newspapers, — two and a half stories in height, with a double gabled front that belonged to the one, elaborate cornices and work over the piazza that belonged to the other, and a turret in the centre that belonged to neither. A wide, tall door opening from the piazza, and windows also opening upon it, sweeping

30 THKCOWABD.

down quite to the floor. Altogether a house which approached more nearly to the " composite" order of architecture so much affected by wealthy Americans, than to any one set down in the books by a particular designation ; and yet shapely and imposing, and showing that if the most unimpeachable taste had not presided over the erection, yet wealth had been lavishly expended and all the modern graces and ornaments freely supplied.

In front of the house, and sweeping down to the road "that ran within a hundred feet, a grassed lawn lying in the lovely green of early summer, only broken at irregular intervals by the dozen of trees of' larger and smaller sizes, round which the earth had been artistically made to swell so as to do away with any appearance of newness and create the impression that the roundness had been caused by the bursting of the trees farther out of the ground through many years of vigorous, growth. Beneath one of the largest of the trees — a maple, with the silver sheen almost equally divided between its bark and its glossy leaves, a long wooden bench or settee, with two or three sofa-cushions thrown carelessly upon it, as if it formed at times a favorite lounge for a reader or a smoker. On the piazza a triad of chairs, irregularly placed and all unoccupied. One of the two folding doors leading into the halls from the piazza, wide open, as became the season, and the other half closed as if a single puff of summer breeze coming through the hall had become exhausted before closing it entirely. One of the windows opening from the piazza into what seemed to be the better part of the house, closed entirely ; and the other, with the shutters " bowed" or half open, permitting a peep into a large parlor or sitting-room, with rich carpet and handsome furniture, but kept dusky under the impression (more or less reasonable) that thereby additional coolness would be secured.

Near the house, on both sides, other houses of corresponding pretension though displaying great variety in style of architecture ; and in front, across the wide road, still others showing to the right and left, and the whole appearance of the immediate neighborhood evidencing that it was neither country nor city, but a blending of both, suburban, and a chosen spot for the residences of those who did business in the great city and wished to be near it, and who possessed means and taste to make so pleasant a selection. Still farther away in front,, as seen between the other houses and shrub- Tbery, and stretching off southward in a long rolling sweep, rich agricultural country, with some of the hay-crop yet ungathered, broad fields of grain receiving the last ripening kiss of the sun before yielding to the sickle or the reapingmachine, and fruit-trees already beginning to be golden with the apples, pears and peaches glimmering amid the leaves, A quiet, gentle scene, with evident wealth to gild it and perfect repose to lend it character ; and over all the warm sun of a June morning resting like a benediction, and a slight shadow of golden haze in the air softening every object in the perspective. Occasionally a pedestrian figure moving slowly along one of the foot-paths that bordered the wide road ; and? anon a farm-wagon loaded with early produce and on its way to market, rumbling *by with such a sleepy expression on the face .of the driver and such lollings of the ears of the full-fed and lazy horses, that the episode of its passage rather added to than detracted from the slumberous quiet of the prospect. .Then another passage, very different and not at all in keeping with any of the points that have before been noted. An officer in full uniform, with the front of his chasseur cap thrown high in defiance of the glare of the sunshine, spurring by on a high-stepping and fast-trotting horse, eastward towards the city, with such life and haste in every, movement of himself and the animal he bestrode as to momentarily dash the whole view with unquiet. Then the equestrian figure out of sight and the beat of his horse's hoofs heard no longer ; and the scene relapsing into that languor born of the June morning verging rapidly towards noon.

Then a sudden sound, still more discordant with the drowsy peace of the hoar than the sight of the spurring soldier, and still more painfully suggestive of war in the land of peace. The quick, sharp rattle of a snare-drum, but a little space removed, and apparently passing down one of the lateral roads in the neighborhood, dying away with a light tap into the distance a moment after, and quiet coming back again yet more markedly after so incongruous an interruption.

The place, West Philadelphia, half a mile or more beyond the Schuylkill, not far from the line traversed beyond the bridge by the Market Street cars, and near the intersection of that branch of the main artery known as the Darby Road, • — in the outer edge of that beautiful little section with its tall trees and plats of natural green, out of and into which the shrieking monsters of the Pennsylvania Central Railroad dart every hour in the day with freight and passengers to and from the Great West. The time, late in June, 1863, a few days before Gettysburg, when the long-threatened invasion of the North by the rebels had become for the moment <bn accomplished fact, when Lee and Ewell had crossed the Potomac, swept on through Upper Maryland, entered Pennsylvania, devastated the farms and carried away the stock of the farmers on the border, laid York under a contribution, burned the barracks at Carlisle, and threatened every hour to capture Harrisburgh and force the passage of the Susquehanna. When women and children, and by far too many of the able-bodied inhabitants who should have shown more pride if thoy indeed possessed no courage, had fled away from the Seat of Government of the Keystone State, and the public records were following them to prevent their falling into the hands of an enemy known to be destructive and revengeful, and for the moment believed to be irresistible. When the rebels themselves boasted that they were about to teach the North all the horrors of war that had fallen upon the South in the long contest, — and that in a few days they would water their cavalry-horses in the Delaware, if they did not achieve the same success at the very banks of the Hudson j

Hid when the newspapers of New York and Philadelphia, for the moment completely discouraged, gave up the lhie of defence of the Susquehanna, and gravely debated whether a check could indeed be made at the Delaware, with the loss of the Quaker City, or whether the great struggle must at last be transferred to the Hudson hills of New Jersey. When the Reserves were mustering in Philadelphia, and the Coal Regiments forming in the haunts of the sturdy miners. When the Pennsylvania coal-mines were to be set on fire by, the inyader, and left to burn on until all the fuel of the nation was destroyed, if the " great conflagration" of the whole earth, did not follow as a result. When more placards calling for the defence of the State, were exhibited in the neighborhood of old Independence Hall, than had ever shown there, inviting the idle to amusement, in the most prosperous seasons of, opera, theatre and concert-saloon — drums beating a]t every corner, brass bands blowing on every square, patriotic appeals and efforts to recruit on every hand, and yet the people apparently lying under bodily apathy or mental paralysis.. When Governor Seymour, of New York, and Governor Parker, of New Jersey, waiving the political question for the moment, were calling out the troops of those States to the defence of Pennsylvania ; and when the militia of the city of New York and the returned nine-mqnths volunteers of New Jersey were showing themselves equally ready to respond to the call. When the Army of the Potomac seemed for the moment to be nothing, even for the defence of the North, Hooker discredited, no successor discovered, public confidence Jost, the very darkest day of the struggle at hand, and no man able or willing to predict what might be the extent of disaster reached before the rolling back of the tide of invasion from the homes of the loyal States. ;

Such were the plaqe., the time, the surroundings, and the atmosphere (so to speak) of the house of the blended Flemish and Elizabethan styles of architecture, at West Philadelphia^ of which, thus far, only the outward aspects have been presented. Yet there may be an inexcusable neglect of the proprieties, in presenting a house, its green lawn, sbady trees, and even the pleasant landscape stretching away in front of it, before those living figures which would certainly have attracted the attention of an observer in advance of any of the inanimate beauties of art or nature.

Those figures were two in number, both standing on the piazza, very near the trellis of climbing roses, and where the flecks of sunshine fell through the leaves upon them and dashed them with little dots and lines of moving light, as well as the floor upon which they stood. Both were girls — both young — both beautiful ; at least eaeh possessed that combination of features, form and manner, making her very pleasing to the casual observer, and certain to be reckoned beautiful by some om admitted to a closer knowledge of the spirit enshrined within. They were evidently dear friends ; for as they stood near the trellis, and the hand of the taller of the two plucked a half-open rose from one of the clusters, and she playfully tried to coax it to a fuller opening by breathing caressingly upon it and separating its clinging leaves with her dainty' fingers, — the arm of the other was around her waist, and both the trim and graceful forms were slightly swaying backward and forward in that pleasant, idle, school-girl motion which the grown woman does not easily forget until it has given the " fidgets" to half her elder acquaintances.

The taller and perhaps by a year the elder — she of the rose — was the daughter of the mistress of that pleasant summer paradise, born to wealth and position, and her birth registered some two-and-twenty years before in the predecessor of the heavy family Bible with its golden clasps, which lay in state in the parlor so near her, as Margaret Hayley. She was a little above the average height of womanhood, and might have seemed too tall for grace but for the exquisite rounding of the lithe form, the matchless fall of a pair of sloping shoulders that could not probably be matched within a radius of an hundred miles, the graceful carriage of a neck that would have been long if less elegantly poised, the beauty in shape and spring in motion of the Arab foot undqr which the water would have run as easily as beneath a bridge, and the supple delicacy of the long taper fingers with their rose-tinted nails, which seemed perfect and high-blooded enough to have a mission of playing among heart-strings as the fingers of others might do among the chords of a harp.

In feature the young girl had quite as many claims to attention. The hair was very dark and very profuse — so near to black that it needed the sunlight before the golden shadows in the dark brown became fully apparent — swept plainly down on either side> in the madonna fashion, from a brow that was very pure, high and clear. The face was handsomely moulded, rather long than broad, as beseemed the figure, rather pale than ruddy, though with a dash of healthy color in each cheek that belied any momentary suspicion of ill health ; the nose a little long and somewhat decided, but very classic in outline and finely cut at the nostril ; the eyes dark — so dark that a careless observer would have lost their brown and called them black, and their expression a little reserved if not sad and even sometimes severe ; the mouth small and well-shaped, with the lips as delicately tinted as the faintest blush-rose in the cluster near her, but a shade too thin for the exhibition of exuberant passion, and showing a slight curl of pride at the corners of the upper ; the chin rounded, full, and forming a pleasant point for the eye to rest upon as it descended from the face to study the contour of neck and shoulders. The first appreciative glance at her was certain to be followed by the suppressed exclamation : " How very handsome !" and the second by a thought that the lips did not syllable : " How very proud and queenly !" It might have needed many more than a third, before the gazer could go to the full depth of a very marked character, and say how much of that queenly bearing might be ready to bend at last to the magic touch of the softer passions, and how much of that evident goodness and firmness miglit'be employed in oonvcying happiness to others than herself. Amongher peculiarities, she seemed to despise stripes, plaids, sprigs, spots, and the other endless varieties of coloi in material ; and the lawn which swept that morning around her erect figure was of a neutral tint and as devoid of spot aswere arms, ears and neck of any ornament in jewelry except a small cameo at the throat, a slight gold chain around the neck and descending to the bosom, and a single cluster diamond sparkling on the forefinger of the right-hand that was dallying with the spirit hidden among the rose-leaves.

No more telling contrast to the tall, majestic girl could well have been supplied, than her neighbor and dear friend, Elsie Brand (Elspeth, baptismally, for reasons that -will hereafter develop themselves, but always called Elsie by those admitted to the least intimacy.) She was at least four inches shorter than Miss Hayley, found and rather plump, though verj& graceful in figure, with a chubby face, ruddy cheeks, piquant nose, merry blue eyes, pouting red lips, full hair coming low down on the forehead and of that pale gold which the old Scotch poets immortalized as " yellow," in so many of their lays of the bardic era. Pretty, beyond question, but more good and attractive-looking than beautiful ; and if a second look at Margaret Hayley would have induced an observation having reference to her pride, a second at Elsie Brand was certain to bring out the thought if not the speech : " What a charming, good little girl !" Perhaps a third, with persons not too severely in training for the great Olympian races of morality, was very likely to create such a sensation as one experiences in gazing at a lusciously ripe peach, having particular reference to the pulpy red lips with their funny pout and kissable look, and ending in a wish that the crimson loveapples of the modern Hesperides were not quite so zealously guarded.

Elsie had not yet passed her twenty-second birthday, though she had been " of age" for a good many twelvemonths, in the estimation of those who had come near enough to her to feel the beating of her warm heart. Doctor James Holton, graduate of the Pennsylvania Medical College, and lsrtely a student with one who had been a student with David Hosack, held his own peculiar estimation of Elsie Brand, and had almost been driven into rank atheism from the necessity of both holding and proving that the theory of our springing from one common father and mother could not possibly be correct, as the clay of which Elsie was made had been so very different — so much purer, sweeter and better — from that employed in the moulding of ordinary mortals 1

For some minutes the two young girls had been standing in silence, Margaret engaged with experiments on her opening rose and Elsie with one arm around her and lazily observing the operation — both apparently full of that indolent enjoyment born of ease, content, and the languid air of the summer morning. Then the little one spoke :

" Margaret, do you know of what I have been thinking for the last two minutes ?"

" Haven't any machine by which I could pry into the droll secrets of your brain, Elsie, my dear !" answered the taller, pleasantly, but with no smile upon* her lips meanwhile, and apparently with all her attention yet absorbed in her horticultural experiment.

" Shall I tell j/ou ?" queried Elsie.

" Certainly, pet, if you like 1" was the reply, the tone, as well as the word of endearment, showing indefinably that Margaret Hayley thought of herself as a woman and yet of her companion (of nearly the same age) as little more than a child.

"I was thinking," said the little girl, "how much of character is sometimes shown in the action of a moment, and how very different we are."

" Who thought your little head was so philosophical, Elsie ?" answered Margaret, and this time she for a moment deserted her rose and looked around with a pleasant smile. " Well, the application of your thought to yourself and to me ?"

" Oh," said the little. one. "It was only about the rose. I should have plucked it, if I plucked it at all, and enjoyed it as it was. You are trying to make something else out of it, and yet show no wish to destroy the flower. A cruel woman — different from either of us, I hope — would probably be plucking off the leaves one by one and throwing them away, without caring how much pain she might be inflicting on the life of the flower, hidden away down somewhere in its heart.''

"A very pretty idea, upon my word I" said Margaret, ceasing to blow upon and pluck at the leaves, and turning upon her companion a countenance showing something like surprised admiration. "And what do you make of my character, Elsie, as sbpwn by my handling of the rose ?"

" You must not be angry with me, Margaret," answered the young girl, a little in the spirit of deprecation. " But you see I should have been satisfied with the rose as it was, * and the other would have been cruelly dissatisfied with it in any shape, and you "

" Well, dear ? I »

" You showed that you were not entirely satisfied with every thing as it was, and that you had a little self-will leading you to force things to be as you chose, by trying to make that poor little flower outrun, the course of nature and bloom before it was quite ready."

" I think you are right, Elsie," said Margaret, nodding her head in that slight and repeated manner indicative of answering the mind within quite as much as any observation from without. " I am not satisfied with every thing in the world, Elsie. I am not cruel, I hope and believe ; but I am sharper, harder, more requiring than you, and consequently not formed for half so much true happiness. I do feel like forcing things to be what I require, sometimes, and then I suppose I grow unamiable."