When he awoke in the morning the sun had long been up. In the first moments of waking and before he opened his eyes, he could not recall what it was that was troubling him. Suddenly the whole situation came back to him, tenfold clearer than before. He saw at once beyond all possibility of contradiction that he could not shoot Marian, no matter who ordered him to do it; that for him the ideal of a perfect soldier was altogether unattainable, and that he was obliged to admit to himself that his entire life was a failure. The public might praise and acclaim him, but he was essentially a fraud and could never secure his own approval.
chap_14HEN Sam got up and began to undress to take his bath, his head swam so that he was obliged to lie down again. He tried again two or three times, but always with the same result, and finally he rang for a servant and sent for an army surgeon. The doctor came at once, took his temperature with a thermometer, and, after examining him, pronouncedthat he had a bad attack of fever, probably typhoid. He advised him to go to the hospital, and before noon Sam found himself comfortably installed in a hospital bed, screened off by a movable partition from a ward of fever patients. The doctor's surmise proved to be correct, and for weeks he was dangerously ill, much of the time being delirious. He suffered once or twice also from relapses, and showed very little recuperative force when the fever finally left him. Meanwhile he was very low-spirited. The idea preyed upon his mind that he was no soldier and could never be one, and he felt that the resulting depression had a great deal to do with his protracted illness. Cleary was assiduous in his attentions, but, intimate as they were, Sam could never bring himself to confess his culpable weakness to him. As he became convalescent he had other visitors, and among them Mr. Cope, the inventor of explosives and artillery.
HEN Sam got up and began to undress to take his bath, his head swam so that he was obliged to lie down again. He tried again two or three times, but always with the same result, and finally he rang for a servant and sent for an army surgeon. The doctor came at once, took his temperature with a thermometer, and, after examining him, pronouncedthat he had a bad attack of fever, probably typhoid. He advised him to go to the hospital, and before noon Sam found himself comfortably installed in a hospital bed, screened off by a movable partition from a ward of fever patients. The doctor's surmise proved to be correct, and for weeks he was dangerously ill, much of the time being delirious. He suffered once or twice also from relapses, and showed very little recuperative force when the fever finally left him. Meanwhile he was very low-spirited. The idea preyed upon his mind that he was no soldier and could never be one, and he felt that the resulting depression had a great deal to do with his protracted illness. Cleary was assiduous in his attentions, but, intimate as they were, Sam could never bring himself to confess his culpable weakness to him. As he became convalescent he had other visitors, and among them Mr. Cope, the inventor of explosives and artillery.
"I am at work at a great invention which I shall owe partly to you and partly to the Emperor," said he on one occasion. "Do youremember that at that execution the Emperor said that the perfect soldier has no conscience or reason?" Sam winced. "And then you called my attention to the fact that the men performed their part like machines. That set me thinking. I am always on the lookout for suggestions, and there was one ready-made. Do you see? Why shouldn't a machine be made to take the place of a soldier? A great idea, isn't it? Now you see we've already done something in that line. A torpedo is simply an iron soldier that swims under water and needs no breath, and does as he is told. Think how absurd it is in battle to have a field-battery come up under fire at a gallop! They swing round, unlimber, load, and fire, then harness again, swing round again, and off they are. Meanwhile perhaps half the men and horses have been killed. Wouldn't it be better to have the whole battery a machine, instead of only the guns? The general could stay behind out of range, as he does to-day, and direct the whole thing with an electric battery and a telescope. It is nota difficult matter when you once accept the principle, and the principle can be extended to cavalry and infantry just as well. It will be a great thing for the nations that are best at mechanics, and that means you and us."
"I don't see," said Sam, "how you can get on without the courage of brave men."
"Courage! Why, what is more courageous than a piece of steel? It wouldn't be easy to frighten it. And it is just so with all soldierly qualities. Do you want obedience? What is more obedient than a machine? I suppose you admit that a human soldier may disobey orders sometimes."
"Perhaps," said Sam, blushing uneasily.
"You may be sure that a steel soldier won't unless he is disabled, and a human soldier may be disabled too. Then the Emperor said a soldier should not reason. There's no danger of a steel soldier trying that.
"'Theirs not to reason why.Theirs but to do and die.'
"Why, the Light Brigade at Balaklava won't be in it with them. And it's just the same withregard to conscience. A piece of steel has no conscience. What we want is a machine soldier. A soldier must be obedient, and he must be without fear, conscience, or a mind of his own. In all these respects a machine can surpass a man. Why, you yourself, in praising those Tutonian soldiers, said that they went like clockwork. That's the highest military praise possible."
Sam was much disturbed by this conversation. Mr. Cope went on to tell how his Government had spent £23,000 to fire a single shot and test one of his new projectiles, but Sam was not interested. Then the inventor began to rally him about the lack of interest of soldiers in the inventions which they used.
"If you had had to depend on yourselves for inventions," he said, "you would still be fighting with cross-bows, or perhaps more likely with your teeth and finger-nails. No soldier ever invented anything. We inventors are the real military men."
At last Sam's unconscious tormentor took his departure, and the invalid rang for thehospital orderly so that he might tell him not to let him in again. To his surprise a new orderly appeared, a negro whose face was strangely familiar.
"What is it, sah?" he said.
"Is that you, Mose?" cried Sam. "Why, it's almost as good as being at home again."
"Bress my soul, Massa Jinks—I mean General, have you been a-hurtin' yourself again?" and the man chuckled to himself till his whole body shook. Under Mose's care Sam made more rapid progress and soon was able to go out in a sedan-chair, borne by three men, like a mandarin. The winter passed away and spring was about to set in. There was no prospect of active service in Porsslania, the Powers being unable to agree upon any policy. The Emperor had already gone home, and the various armies were much reduced in strength. Cleary had been ordered to return by his newspaper, and had taken passage in a passenger steamer for the first of May.
"Why can't you come with me?" he said to Sam. "You're entitled to a leave of absence,and when you get to Whoppington you can apply for some other berth."
Sam followed this wise advice and obtained a furlough of three months, and on the day fixed for sailing they embarked for home.
Sam was still an invalid, but the voyage did him a great deal of good, and before they had been a week at sea he began to look quite like his old self. There were few passengers who interested him, but he became acquainted with one man of note, a Porsslanese literatus, who was attached to the legation at Whoppington, and sat on the other side of the captain of the steamer at meals. This gentleman, who bore the name of Chung Tu, was greatly interested in military matters and listened to Sam's accounts by the hour. The night before their arrival at St. Kisco, the regular dinner was, as usual, converted into a banquet, and a band was improvised for the occasion. At the close of dinner the martial hymns of all nations were played, ending with "Yankee Doodle." It was impossible to resist the impulse to laugh as this national jig brought up the rear, andSam was much displeased that the foreigners on board, and there were many, should have laughed at his country. When he went up on deck he found Cleary conversing with Chung Tu, and he placed his steamer-chair beside theirs and joined the conversation.
"It's a great pity," said he, "that we have such a national air as 'Yankee Doodle.' It holds us up to ridicule."
"Do you think so?" answered Chung Tu, who spoke English perfectly. "That depends upon the point of view. You see you take the military point of view. We Porsslanese are not a military nation. We do not think much of armies. We do not try to spread our territory by force, and we never encroach on our neighbors' land, altho we are really overcrowded. Perhaps that is the reason people dislike us. We are not much of an empire either. We have very little central authority, and only a handful of officials. We have free speech, and even the Emperor can be freely criticized without fear. We have no conscription, and no one need carry a passport, as theyhave to in some countries. We are almost a democracy. We have no exclusive hereditary rank. Any one may become a mandarin if he learns enough to deserve it. We only wanted to be left alone without armies, and we did not want to buy guns and ships. That is all. We are almost a democracy, and that is the reason that I have always studied your history with care. I have studied your state papers and your hymns. I have made a special study of them, and I have come to the opposite conclusion from you as to 'Yankee Doodle.' It seems to me to be the work of a great poet and prophet."
"What do you mean?" asked Sam.
"Let us consider it seriously," said Chung Tu. "Have you a copy of it?"
"No," said Sam, laughing.
"Then please repeat it for us, and I will write it down."
Sam began to recite, but he found it difficult to keep his face straight:
"'Yankee Doodle went to town,Riding on a pony.He stuck a feather in his crownAnd called him macaroni.'"
"'Yankee Doodle went to town,Riding on a pony.He stuck a feather in his crownAnd called him macaroni.'"
"That is not like my version," said the attaché, pulling a piece of paper from the pocket of his silk jacket. "Here is mine," and he read it solemnly and with emphasis:
"'Yankee Doodle came to town,A-riding on a pony.He stuck a feather in his capAnd called it macaroni.'
"'Yankee Doodle came to town,A-riding on a pony.He stuck a feather in his capAnd called it macaroni.'
"Which reading is correct?" he asked of Cleary.
"I'm sure I don't know," said Cleary, laughing.
"How careless you are of your country's literature! In Porsslania we would carefully guard the sayings of our ancestors and preserve them from alteration. You have what you call the 'higher criticism.' You should direct it to the correction of this most important poem. I have studied the matter as carefully and accurately as a foreigner can, and I am satisfied that my version is the most authentic. Come now, let us study it. Take the first two lines:
"'Yankee Doodle came to townA-riding on a pony.'
"'Yankee Doodle came to townA-riding on a pony.'
"There is nothing difficult in that. You may say that the name is a strange one, and I admit that 'Doodle' is a curious surname, but 'Yang Kee' is a perfectly reasonable one from a Porsslanese point of view, and leads me to suppose that the wisdom contained in this poem came originally from our wise men. Perhaps the name is put there as an indication of the fact. However, let us accept the name. The hero came to town riding on a pony. That was a very sensible thing to do. Remember that those lines were written long before the discovery of railways or tram-cars or bicycles or automobiles. You may say that he might have taken a carriage or one of your buggies, but you forget that the roads were exceedingly bad in those days, as bad as our roads near the Imperial City, and it would have been dangerous perhaps to attempt the journey in a vehicle of any kind. In riding to town on a pony, then, he was acting like a rational man. But let us read the rest of the verse:
"'He stuck a feather in his capAnd called it macaroni.'
"'He stuck a feather in his capAnd called it macaroni.'
"For some reason or other which is not revealed, he puts a feather in his cap, and immediately he begins to act irrationally and to use language so absurd that the reading itself has become doubtful. What is the meaning of this? A man whose conduct has always been reasonable and unexceptionable, suddenly adopts the language of a lunatic. What does it mean? You have sung this verse for a century and more, and you have never taken the trouble to seek for the meaning."
Sam and Cleary did not attempt to defend their neglect.
"It is clear to me," proceeded the philosopher, "it is very clear to me that it is an allegory. What is the feather which he puts in his cap? It is the most conspicuous feature of the military uniform, the plume, the pompon, which marks all kinds of military dress-hats. When he speaks of his hero as having assumedthe feather, he means that he has donned the uniform of a soldier. He has come to town, in other words, to enlist. Then behold the transformation! He begins at once to act irrationally. The whole epic paints in never-fading colors the disastrous effect upon the intellect of putting on soldier-clothes. You will pardon me, my friends, if I speak thus plainly, but I must open to you the hidden wisdom of your own country."
Sam smiled. The idea of taking offense at any nonsense which an ignorant pagan should say was quite beneath him.
"But that is not all. The style of the language and of the music is most noteworthy. It is highly comical, and its object evidently is to provoke a laugh, and at dinner this evening we saw that its object was attained. All the other martial hymns to which we listened were grave, ponderous compositions from which the element of humor was rigidly excluded. It was left for the author of 'Yang Kee' to uncover the ludicrous character of militarism—he has virtually committed yournation to it. He was a genius of marvelous insight. He saw clearly then what but few of your fellow citizens are even now aware of, that there is nothing more comical than a soldier. I am convinced that he was a Porsslanese who had the good fortune to sow in your literature the seed of truth. You think that as a nation you have a sense of humor. I have studied your humorous literature. You laugh at mothers-in-law and messenger-boys and domestic servants, and many other objects which are altogether serious and have no element of humor in them, and at the same time you are blind to the most absurd of spectacles, the man who dresses up in feathers and gold lace and thinks it is honorable to do nothing for years but wait for a pretext to kill somebody," and Chung Tu leaned back in his chair and smiled.
"It is we who have the sense of humor," he added. "When our common people laughed at the Emperor in his uniforms, they showed the same sound sense that appears in 'Yang Kee.' I thank you, my dear friends, for listening to me so kindly and without anger, but I hope to preach these ideas to your people, and as I take my text from your national hymn, they must listen to me. Then there is another common expression among you which shows, as so many proverbs do, the fundamental truth. When a story is incredible you say 'Tell that to the marines,' signifying that only a marine would be stupid enough to believe it. Now what is a marine? As the Anglian poet says, he is 'soldier and sailor too,' in other words, he epitomizes the army and navy. It is the military man who is foolish enough to believe anything and who keeps alive the most absurd superstitions and customs. The ancient Greeks cast a side-light on this truth, for their word for private soldier was 'idiot.' And on account of this strange stupidity of soldiers, things that would be disgraceful in private life become glorious in war. Their one virtue is obedience, unqualified by any of the balancing virtues, and they wear liveries to show that they are servile. And then the foolish things they try to do! Youare familiar with the Peace Conference—generals and admirals spending weeks in uniform with swords at their sides to determine how to stop fighting, as if there were anything to do but to stop! I believe they had the grace to turn the war pictures in the conference room to the wall. But fancy sending butchers to a conference in the interests of vegetarianism! Of course nothing was done or could be done there. And the Emperor in his uniform, drunk with militarism, wanted us—all our nation—wantedme—to kow-tow before him as if he were a god! But he did not get what he wanted from us. His own people may grovel before him, but we will not. Oh, these soldiers, these soldiers! You look down on your hangmen and butchers. We look down on our men-butchers, the soldiers, in the same way. We have soldiers just as you have police, but it is a low calling with us, and most people would be ashamed to have a soldier in the family. Pardon me, my dear sirs. Perhaps I have spoken too plainly. I mean nothing personal, but when I think ofthese wars, I can not control my tongue. Good-night."
So saying, the attaché gathered up his robes and went below.
"Queer chap," said Sam. "He must be crazy."
"We've treated them rather badly, tho," said Cleary. "I'm glad Taffy hasn't had any executions, but our minister and all the rest have been insisting on executions of their big people, and no one talks of executing any of ours, altho they have suffered ten times as much as we have."
"You forget how the affair began," said Sam. "Suppose the Porsslanese had sent us missionaries to teach us their religion, and these missionaries had gradually got possession of land and also some local power of governing, and then we had ruthlessly murdered some of them and they had seized all our ports for the purpose of benefiting us, do you suppose that we would have risen like those miserable Fencers and massacred anybody? It is inconceivable. Theyhave the strangest aversion to foreigners too."
"Some of them haven't," said Cleary. "Chung Tu is a friendly old soul, if he is cracked. He says he believes the Powers have been turned loose on his country to punish them for having invented gunpowder. He laughs at Cope's inventions. He says his people set the fashion, and then wisely stopped when they found that such inventions did more harm than good. I think they have a right to complain of us. Why, there's one of our soldiers in the steerage with seventeen of their pigtails with the scalps still fastened to them as trophies! Old Chung says our ribbons and decorations are the equivalent of the scalps dangling at a savage's belt. I didn't tell him we had the genuine article. But, come, you had better turn in. You'll have a hard day to-morrow. I've advertised your coming for all I was worth, and if they don't give you a send-off at St. Kisco, it isn't my fault. I'm glad you're well enough to stand it."
"I'm not as well as I look," said Sam. "I'velost all my nerve. I'm even worrying a little about all my loot in those cases in the hold. It sometimes seems that I oughtn't to have taken it."
"What!" cried Cleary. "Well, you are getting squeamish! After all the fellows you've killed or had killed, I shouldn't mind an ornament or two."
"Killing is a soldier's main business," said Sam. "Oh, well, I suppose looting is, too. I won't think anything more about it. Good-night."
While Sam and his friend were conversing on deck, another conversation which was to have a portentous effect upon the former's destiny was taking place in the upper corridor of the Peckham Young Ladies' Seminary at St. Kisco.
"He's perfectly lovely," said a young lady, standing barefoot before her door in her night-dress to a group of young ladies similarly attired. "I've got his photograph. And I'm not just going to stand still and see him pass. It's all very well to have the school drawn upin line on the wharf—that's better than nothing—but I want something more, and I'm going to have it."
"What will you do, Sally?" they all cried.
"I'm going to kiss him—there!" said she.
"Oh, Sally!"
"Yes, I will too."
"I believe she will if she says so," said one of the girls. "She won't stop at anything. Well, Sally Watson, if you kiss him, I will to."
"And I!" "And I!" exclaimed the others; but at that moment a step was heard on the stairs, and the Peckham young ladies sought their beds and pretended very hard to be asleep, altho their hearts were thumping against their ribs at the mere thought of their daring resolution.
It was at ten o'clock the next morning that the steamer came alongside the wharf. The city was in gala dress and flags waved everywhere. The day was observed almost as a holiday, and many schools permitted their pupils to take part in the procession which awaited the arrival of Captain Jinks, as Samwas now commonly known in his native land. A reception was arranged for him at the City Hall, and the Mayor came down to the steamer in a carriage with four horses to escort him thither. >From the deck Sam could see a banner stretched across the street, on which was an inscription to the "Hero of San Diego, the Subduer of the Moritos, the Capturer of Gomaldo, the Conqueror of the Great White Temple, and the Friend and Instructor of the Emperor." A few months before, Sam would have enjoyed this display without alloy, but now his health was really shattered, and in the bottom of his heart he felt that he was unworthy of it all, for he was not the perfect soldier he had believed he was, and under his uniform beat the heart of a vulgar civilian. His military instincts had their limit; his obedience could only be relied upon under certain circumstances. He was a mere amateur, and had no claim to rank as a military hero at all.
A swarm of reporters settled down upon General Jinks as soon as they could get on board, insisting upon having his opinion as tothe growth of the city since he had seen it, the superiority of its climate to that of any part of the world, and the beauty of its women. Sam answered all these questions satisfactorily, and surrendered himself to the committee of citizens who had come on deck to welcome him. His luggage was passed without delay by the Custom House officials, and he was conducted down the wharf toward the carriage which awaited him. With true chivalry young ladies' schools had been given the best positions on the wharf, and Sam soon found himself passing through a double row of pretty girls. He could hear such remarks as this:
"Isn't he good-looking!"
"What a lovely uniform!"
"Hasn't he got a fascinating limp!"
"How pale he is!"
"He does look just like a hero."
Sam flushed slightly at these comments, but suddenly, before he had time to collect his thoughts, a slight form sprang forward from the left and an inviting face presented itself to his, and with the words, "May I, please?"a hearty kiss was planted on his lips. Sam had no time to decline, if he had wished to. A murmur of surprise and delight arose from the crowd, and in another moment another damsel rushed upon him, and then another and another. Before long he was the center of a throng of elbowing young ladies of all kinds, fair, plain, and indifferent, all bent upon giving him a kiss. Sam had indeed lost his nerve; for the first time in his life he capitulated absolutely and let the attacking party work its sweet will. It was with great difficulty that he was rescued by the reception committee and finally seated next to the Mayor in the landau.
"What a lot of cab-drivers you have there on the wharf!" said Sam to the Mayor, after their first greetings. "I never saw so many. Hear them crying out to the passengers coming ashore!"
"They're not cab-drivers," he answered. "They're pension agents. They're not crying 'Want a cab?' but 'Want a pension?'"
"So they are," said Sam. "What is thattune the young ladies are beginning to sing?"
"Don't you know?" said the Mayor, laughing. "It's 'Captain Jinks.' You'll know it well enough before you are here long. Listen."
Sam listened and heard sung for the first time lines that were to be imprinted upon his tympanum until they became a torture:
"I'm Captain Jinks of the Cubapines,The pink of human war-machines,Who teaches emperors, kings, and queensThe way to run an army."
"I'm Captain Jinks of the Cubapines,The pink of human war-machines,Who teaches emperors, kings, and queensThe way to run an army."
The news of the kissing reached the City Hall before the procession, and when he alighted there Sam had to kiss an immense number of women who were determined not to be outdone by their sisters at the wharf, while the whole crowd sang "Captain Jinks" in a frenzy of enthusiasm. The reception accorded to Sam at St. Kisco was so elaborate, and the arrangements made to do him honor were so extended, that he was obliged to stay there for several days. Meanwhile the newsof his arrival and of his gallantry in kissing his countrywomen, young and old, spread all over the land and took hold of the popular imagination. Invitations to visit various cities on his way across the Continent began to come in, and everywhere Sam was acclaimed as the hero and idol of the people.
"It's great, it's great, old man!" cried Cleary. "Why, that kissing business is worth a dozen victories! The people here say that no general or admiral has had such a send-off in St. Kisco. Look at to-day's papers! Thirteen places have petitioned to have their post-offices named after you. There will be Jinksvilles and Jinkstowns everywhere, and one is called Samjinks. Then they're naming their babies after you like wildfire. Samuela is becoming a common girl's name, and one chap has called his girl Samjinksina. All the girls are practising the Jinks limp, too. I saw one huge picture of you painted on the dead side of a house. It was an ad. of the 'Captain Jinks 5-cent Cigar.' That's the limit of a man's ambition, I should say. And nowthey're beginning to nominate you for President. I'm going to try to work that up. I'm sending a despatch toThe Lyrethis morning. If they take it up, we can put it through. The Republicrats hold their convention at St. Lewis next month, and they've been looking around for a military candidate, and you're just the thing. Every woman in the country will be for you. They won't dare to put up a candidate against you. You'll just have a walk-over. That song, 'Captain Jinks,' will do it alone. Everybody is singing it."
"I thought I was too young," said Sam. "Isn't there an age limit?"
"Not a bit of it. They abolished that when they amended the Constitution and made the President's term six years, and made him ineligible for reelection."
"I'd rather have a military position," said Sam. "I'd rather be general of the army. But I've lost my nerve—I'm not well; and perhaps it's just as well that I should take a civilian position."
"Civilian position! Nonsense! The President is commander-in-chief of the army and navy, and the marines, too, for that matter."
"But he hasn't a uniform," said Sam sorrowfully. "And as for all this kissing, I'm sick of it. It tires me to death, and I don't know what Marian will think of it. I've written to explain that I can't help it, but she will see the reports first in the papers and she may not like it at all."
"Oh, she's a sensible woman," said Cleary. "She will understand a political and military necessity. She won't mind."
chap_15UT Marian did mind, and for once Cleary was mistaken. She was delighted at the prominence which Sam had achieved, and saw him mentioned as a candidate for President with pride and gratification, but she did not see how that excused his promiscuous osculation of the female population of the country, and she determined that it should cease. She wrote to him frequently and decidedly on the subject, and he reported her protests to Cleary, who absolutely refused to allow them."It won't do," said he, as they discussed thesubject at a hotel in a small city on their line of progress. "This kissing is your strong point.The Lyreis backing you up on the strength of it. So is the Benevolent Assimilation Trust, Limited. In every city and town the girls have turned out, and you've captured them hands down. If you stop now it will upset the whole business. The Convention delegates are coming out for you by the dozen. Our committee is working it up so that it will be nearly unanimous. There won't be another serious candidate, and I doubt if they put anybody up against you when you're nominated. You're as good as President now, but you must go on kissing. That's all there is of it."
UT Marian did mind, and for once Cleary was mistaken. She was delighted at the prominence which Sam had achieved, and saw him mentioned as a candidate for President with pride and gratification, but she did not see how that excused his promiscuous osculation of the female population of the country, and she determined that it should cease. She wrote to him frequently and decidedly on the subject, and he reported her protests to Cleary, who absolutely refused to allow them.
"It won't do," said he, as they discussed thesubject at a hotel in a small city on their line of progress. "This kissing is your strong point.The Lyreis backing you up on the strength of it. So is the Benevolent Assimilation Trust, Limited. In every city and town the girls have turned out, and you've captured them hands down. If you stop now it will upset the whole business. The Convention delegates are coming out for you by the dozen. Our committee is working it up so that it will be nearly unanimous. There won't be another serious candidate, and I doubt if they put anybody up against you when you're nominated. You're as good as President now, but you must go on kissing. That's all there is of it."
Sam wrote to Marian rehearsing these arguments, and he got Cleary to write too, but the letters had no effect. At last he received a telegram from her announcing her intention of meeting him at St. Lewis. She reached that city before him and was present at the station when he arrived, altho he did not know it, and from a good point of vantage shesaw him kissing the young ladies of that city by wholesale to an accompaniment of "Captain Jinks." It was more than she could stand, and when she joined herfiancéat the hotel the meeting was very different from the one he had so often pictured to himself. It was a stormy scene, intermixed with tender episodes, but she gave it as her ultimatum that the kissing must cease forthwith, and, in order to give a good reason for it, she insisted that they be married at once. Sam was willing to take this course, and Cleary was called into their counsels. At first he bitterly opposed the project, but Marian's blandishments finally succeeded, and she gained him as an ally. He was sent as an emissary to the campaign committee and presented the case as strongly as he could for her. The proposition really seemed most plausible. Could anything help the chances of a candidate more than his marriage to a handsome young woman? The committee had doubts on the subject and waited in person on Miss Hunter, but she persuaded them as she had persuaded Cleary, and furthermoreconvinced them that whether they were persuaded or not the marriage would take place. Marian determined to fix the hour for the next day. She pledged the committee to secrecy, and no word of the proposed wedding got into the papers. At noon a clergyman was called into the hotel, and in Sam's private sitting-room the pair were married with Cleary and a few of the members of the committee as witnesses. Almost before the ceremony was over they could hear the newsboys crying out the tidings of the event.
"It's out of the question to talk about a wedding-tour," said Sam, after the ceremony. "I can't walk in the streets alone without being mobbed, and with Marian we could not keep the clothes on our backs. Just hear them singing 'Captain Jinks' now!"
"Mark my words, dear," said his wife. "You will see when we get the papers to-morrow with the news of our marriage, that it has made you more popular than ever. Now send out word to the reporters that you will not do any more public kissing."
In obedience to these orders Cleary, acting as go-between, conveyed the information as gently as he could to the representatives of the press, that as a married man General Jinks expected to be spared the ordeal of embracing all the young ladies of the country.
No one was prepared for the striking effect which this news, coupled with that of the marriage, had upon the newspapers and their readers. The first papers which Sam and his wife saw on the following morning were those of St. Lewis. They expressed sorrow at the fact that Captain Jinks had taken such a resolution when only a handful of the fair women of St. Lewis had had the opportunity of saluting him. Were they less beautiful and attractive than the ladies of St. Kisco who had kissed him to their hearts' content? Marian was visibly annoyed when she saw these articles, but she advised her husband to wait till they received the papers from other cities. These journals came, but, alas! they went rapidly from bad to worse. The Eastern papers with scarcely an exception took up the strain ofthose of St. Lewis. Why did Captain Jinks discriminate against the women of the East? He had kissed the whole West. Probably he had also kissed all the women of the Cubapines and Porsslania. It was only the women of the East that he could not find heart to salute in the same way. Here was a hero indeed, who insulted one-half of his own nation! It might have been expected that the Western press would have come to Sam's support, but they did not. They accused him of gross deception in not announcing that he had been from the first engaged to be married. Their young women had been fraudulently induced to kiss lips which had already been monopolized, but which they had been led to believe to be as free as the air of heaven. Black indeed must be the soul of a man who could stoop to such deception! As the days went on the public became more excited and the attacks more ferocious. It was rumored that hisfiancéehad married him against his will, that she was a virago and a termagant. Would the country be contented to see the Executive Mansionruled by petticoats, and by those of a hussy at that? What sort of a hero was the man who could be ordered about by a woman and could not call his soul his own? Then they began to overhaul his record. Was he really the hero of San Diego? Was it not the mistakes of Gomaldo which caused his defeat? Was it not true that the boasted subjugation of the Moritos was brought about by the superstitious fear of the savages inspired by the figures tattooed on the captain's body? And the capture of Gomaldo, was it anything but a green-goods game on a large scale? What, too, was the burning of the great White Temple but an act of vandalism? And as for the friendship and praise of the Emperor, who was the Emperor, anyway, but an effete product of an exhausted civilization? Then had not Captain Jinks opposed the promotion of men from the ranks? What sort of a democrat was this? Sam felt these thrusts keenly. He had had no idea of the fickleness of the people, and it was hard to believe that in a single day they had ceased to adore him and begun torevile him; and yet such was the case. Marian was also overcome with mortification, and she heaped reproaches upon him for their forlorn condition. Cleary proved himself to be a stanch friend.
"It's too bad, old man," he said. "It'll blow over, but you'll have to withdraw a while for repairs. The bottom has dropped out of your boom, and of course you can't be a candidate for President. Let's go quietly home. I'll go along with you.The Lyrehas had to drop you for the time.Scribblers'/i> has sent back the first article I wrote for you, and they say your name has lost its commercial value. I've seen Jonas. He's here to make sure of a friendly candidate, and he says you're out of the question. He's doing well, I tell you. I asked him how it paid to run a war for half a million a day and get a trade in return of a few millions a year? 'It's the people pay for the war and we get the trade,' said he. He'd like to have you President to help them along, but he says it won't be possible. It's a shame. You'd have run so well, if——Your platformof 'Old Gory, the Army and Navy,' would have swept everything before it. But never mind. We'll try it again some day. I suppose your luck couldn't hold out forever."
"Thanks, my dear Cleary," said Sam, grasping his hand. "You've been a true friend. I don't think it makes much difference. I am a sick man, and I must go home as soon as I can."
chap_16AM was indeed a sick man, and the journey to the East proved to be a severe strain upon him. Cleary saw that it would be unwise to let him travel alone with his wife, and accordingly he accompanied him to Slowburgh, which was on the way to Homeville. They arrived inthe afternoon, and Sam could hardly walk to the carriage which awaited him. He was put to bed as soon as he reached his uncle's house, and on the advice of his uncle's doctor they sent at once to the county town for a trained nurse to take charge of him, for it was out of the question for him to travel farther. There was no train which Cleary could conveniently take that evening to the metropolis, and he accepted the urgent invitation of Congressman Jinks to spend the night. It so happened that it was a gala day for Slowburgh. Four of her soldier sons had returned a few days before from Porsslania and the Cubapines, and this day had been set aside for a great celebration and a mass-meeting at the Methodist church to welcome them. The procession was to take place early in the evening, and after supper Cleary went out alone to watch the proceedings, leaving his friend to the care of his relatives. He took his place on the curbstone of the principal street and was soon conversing with his neighbors on each side, one of whom was our old friend, Mr. Reddy, and the otherthe young insurance agent whose acquaintance Sam had made at the hotel."It's going to be a great show," said the former. "I wish I was spry enough to parade too. It's going to be splendid, but it won't come up to the time we had when I came back from the war. They've kept them four boys drunk three days for nothing, but we was drunk a month."
AM was indeed a sick man, and the journey to the East proved to be a severe strain upon him. Cleary saw that it would be unwise to let him travel alone with his wife, and accordingly he accompanied him to Slowburgh, which was on the way to Homeville. They arrived inthe afternoon, and Sam could hardly walk to the carriage which awaited him. He was put to bed as soon as he reached his uncle's house, and on the advice of his uncle's doctor they sent at once to the county town for a trained nurse to take charge of him, for it was out of the question for him to travel farther. There was no train which Cleary could conveniently take that evening to the metropolis, and he accepted the urgent invitation of Congressman Jinks to spend the night. It so happened that it was a gala day for Slowburgh. Four of her soldier sons had returned a few days before from Porsslania and the Cubapines, and this day had been set aside for a great celebration and a mass-meeting at the Methodist church to welcome them. The procession was to take place early in the evening, and after supper Cleary went out alone to watch the proceedings, leaving his friend to the care of his relatives. He took his place on the curbstone of the principal street and was soon conversing with his neighbors on each side, one of whom was our old friend, Mr. Reddy, and the otherthe young insurance agent whose acquaintance Sam had made at the hotel.
"It's going to be a great show," said the former. "I wish I was spry enough to parade too. It's going to be splendid, but it won't come up to the time we had when I came back from the war. They've kept them four boys drunk three days for nothing, but we was drunk a month."
"They've sobered them down for this evening, I believe," said the young man.
"They've done their best," said Reddy, "and I think they'll go through with it all right. It's a great time for them, but they'll have their pension days all the rest of their lives to remind them of it, four times a year."
"Who are going to take part in the procession?" asked Cleary.
"They're going to have all the military companies and patriotic societies of these parts," answered Reddy, "and then the firemen too of course; but they won't amount to much, for most of them are in the societies, and they'd rather turn out in them."
"What societies are there?" said Cleary.
"Oh, there's the Grandsons of the Revolution and the Genuine Grandsons of the Revolution, and the Daughters of Revolutionary Camp-Followers and the Genuine Daughters, and then the Male Descendants of Second Cousins of Heroes, and the Genuine Male Descendants, and the Connections by Marriage of Colonial Tax-Collectors, and then the Genuine Connections, and a lot of others I can't remember."
"The names seem to go in pairs," said Cleary.
"Well, you see, they always have a fight about something in these military societies, and then they split, and the party that splits away always takes the same name and puts 'Genuine' in front of it. That's the way it is."
"I suppose these societies do a lot of good, don't they?" asked Cleary. "These splits and quarrels remind me of the army. They must spread the military spirit among the people."
"Yes, they do," said the young man. "It's what they callesprit de corps. If fighting is military, they fight and no mistake, and the women fight more than the men. I don't know how many lawsuits they've had. Half of them won't speak to the other half. But they're all united on one thing, I can tell you, and that is in wanting to put down the Cubapinos."
"That they are," cried Reddy. "That's why they call 'em 'Patriotic Societies.' It was our ancestors as fought for freedom that they made the societies for. Our ancestors were patriotic and fought for freedom oncet, and now we're going to be patriotic and stick by the government just like they did."
"Yes, they fought for freedom, that's true. And what are the Cubapinos fighting for?" asked the young man.
"Oh, shucks!" cried Reddy. "I ain't a-going to argher with you. What were we talking about? Oh, yes. We were saying that them societies fight together. They do fight a good deal, that's a fact, and there's no end oftrouble in our militia battalion too. They all want to be captain, and they don't get on somehow as well as the fire companies. But still it's a fine thing to see all this military spirit. I didn't see a uniform for years, and now you can't hire a man to dig a ditch who hasn't got a stripe on one leg of his trousers at any rate. Girls like soldiers, I tell you, and they like pensions too. I've just got married myself. My wife is seventeen. Now I've drawed my pension for nearly forty years, and she'll draw it for sixty more if she has any luck; that'll make over a hundred. That's something like. Why, if one of these fellows is twenty now and marries a girl of seventeen when he's ninety, and she lives till she's ninety, they can keep drawing money for a hundred and fifty years, and no mistake. It's better than a savings bank. Here they come!"
The procession had formed round the corner at the other end of the main street, and now the band began to play, and the column could be seen advancing. First the band passed with an escort of small boys running along inthe gutter on either side. Then came two carriages containing the heroes, two in each. They held themselves stiffly and took off their hats, and no one would have supposed that they had drunk too much if the fact had not been universally understood by the public. Behind them came a line of other carriages in which were seated the magnates of the town, including the office-holders and the prominent business men. They all had that self-important air which is inseparable from such shows and which denotes that the individual is feeling either like a great man or a fool. Then came the militia battalion, a rather shamefaced lot of young men who seemed to be painfully aware that they were not at all real heroes like the soldiers in the carriages, but merely make-believe imitations. The patriotic societies followed, genuine and non-genuine, resplendent in "insignia," sashes, and badges.
"There's my wife, she's a G.C.M.C.T.C.," said Reddy proudly, pointing out a very plain young woman with gold spectacles. "And here come the Genuine Ancestors of FutureVeterans. See that old woman there on the other side? She made all the fuss. You see when anybody wants to get into a society and finds they can't get in they go off and start another. And some people that hadn't any tax collectors or connections or anything, they just got up the 'Ancestors of Future Veterans,' and everybody in town wanted to get into that. And old Miss Blunt there, she wanted to come in too, and she's over seventy, and they said she couldn't be an ancestor nohow, and she said she could and she would, and they voted forty-one to forty against her, and the forty went off and founded the Genuine Ancestors, and they're twice as big as the others now. Hear 'em applaud?"
The old lady walked along with a martial tread, and was loudly cheered as she passed.
"Now we'd better get into the church if we want seats," said the young man, and Cleary followed him, leaving the ancient warrior behind. The church was very crowded and very hot, and Cleary had to sit on a step of the platform, but it was an exhibition ofpatriotism worth beholding. The band played with great gusto, and the whole audience was at the highest pitch of excitement. The chairman made an address, and Josh Thatcher responded in a few words for himself and his three companions. Then flowers were presented to them, and a little girl recited the "Charge of the Light Brigade," but the main feature of the program was the oration of Dr. Taylor, the pastor of the church. He was famed as an orator not only in his denomination and in the county but in the National Order of Total Abstinence, of which he was a leading light. In his address he welcomed the four heroes back to their hearths and firesides. He thanked them for having conquered so many lands and spread the blessings of civilization and Christianity to the ends of the earth.
"We have been told, my friends, by wicked and unpatriotic scoffers, that these wars have stirred up the passions of our people, that there are more lynchings and deeds of violence than ever before, and that negro soldiers returning from the war have shot down citizens from car-windows. I have even been told that its effect is to be seen in the attempts of worthy citizens, including a distinguished judge, to have the whipping-post reestablished in our midst. I can only say for myself that such traitors and traducers should be the first victims of the whipping-post. (Cheers.) So far from crime having increased since the departure of these young heroes, I can testify that there has been a marked decrease in our community. Since they left, not a single barn has been burned, not a chicken stolen. My friend, Mrs. Crane, informs me that she keeps more chickens than ever before, and that she has not missed one in over a year. I am also told that during the absence of these young men the amount of liquor drunk in our town has sensibly diminished. The war then has been a blessing to us and to our nation."
During these remarks Josh Thatcher, who was sitting in the front row, gave sundry digs in the ribs to his cousin Tom, and they both laughed aloud.
"We welcome our heroes back," continued the orator. "We open our arms to them. All that we have is theirs. We applaud their manly courage and Christian self-sacrifice. We shall never, never forget their services, and we shall recite their noble deeds to our children and to our children's children."
The meeting broke up with three cheers and a tiger for each of the four heroes. For an hour later the crowds stood in the street talking over the great events of the day, each of the young veterans forming the center of an admiring group, Tom Thatcher being surrounded by a bevy of pretty girls who seemed to find nothing objectionable in his pimpled face and hoarse voice. Cleary stood for a long time watching them and talking with the insurance man.
"It's their night," said the latter, "but it won't last long. We know them too well. When the barns begin to burn again, folks'll all know what it means. I wish they'd keep a war going a long way off forever for these fellows. It would be a good riddance. Andthat's all talk of old Taylor's anyway. He won't take them to his heart, not by a great deal. I heard Dave Black ask him for a job to-day, and he wants a man too, and he said, 'What—an ex-soldier? Not much!' The words were out of his mouth before he knew what he'd said. He's a slick one."
When Cleary returned to Mr. Jinks' house, he found Sam much worse, and the gravest fears were entertained as to his recovery. In the morning he was a little easier, and Cleary was able to have a little talk with him before he left. Sam had been told by the doctor that his condition was serious, and he had no desire to get well.
"You must brace up, old man," said Cleary cheerily. "I'll come back in a few days and we'll lay out our plans for the future. You're the finest soldier that ever lived, and I haven't done with you yet."
"Don't say that, don't say that!" cried Sam. "I'm no soldier at all. I wanted to be a perfect soldier, and I can't. It's that that's breaking my heart. I don't mind the nomination for President nor anything else in comparison. My poor wife! Why did I let her marry a coward like me? I can't tell you now, but if I'm alive when you come here again I'll tell you all."
"Nonsense, old man," said Cleary. "You've got the fever on you again. It's in your blood. When it gets out, you'll be all right."
It was with tears in his eyes that Cleary bade his friend good-by, for he could see that he was a very sick man. It was impossible, however, for him to remain longer, and as Sam's wife and cousin were there to nurse him, and his father and mother had been telegraphed for, he felt that there was no necessity for him to remain.
After the lapse of three weeks Cleary received the sad news that Sam had shown unmistakable signs of insanity and had been removed to an insane asylum. His father wrote that while his insanity was of a mild form, the doctors thought it best for him to be placed in an institution where he could receive the most scientific treatment. Six months later Cleary,who was now one of the editors of theLyre, went on a sad pilgrimage to see his friend. The asylum was several hours away from the metropolis beyond East Point, and was none other than the great building which they had described to the chief of the Moritos. Cleary took a carriage at the station and drove to his destination, and at last arrived at the huge edifice in the midst of its wide domain. He went into the reception-room and explained his errand. After a while a young doctor came to him, and told him that he could have an interview with Captain Jinks at once, and offered to act as his guide. It was a long walk through corridors and passages and up winding stairs to Sam's apartment, and Cleary questioned the doctor as they went.
"Captain Jinks is a dear fellow," said the doctor in response to his inquiries. "We are all fond of him. At first he was a little intractable and denied our right to direct him, but now that we've got it all down on a military basis, he will do anything we tell him. I believe he would walk out of the window if Iordered him too. But I have to put on a military coat to make him obey. We keep one on purpose. As soon as he sees it on anybody he's as obedient as a child. He's such a perfect gentleman, too. It's a very sad case. Here's his room."
The doctor knocked.
"Who goes there?" cried a husky voice, which Cleary hardly recognized as Sam's.
"A friend," answered the doctor.
"Advance, friend, and give the countersign," said the same voice.
"Old Gory!" cried the doctor, with most unmilitary emphasis, and he opened the door and they entered.
Cleary saw what seemed to be the shadow of Sam, pale, haggard, and emaciated, sitting in a shabby undress uniform before a large deal table. Upon the table was a most elaborate arrangement of books and blocks of wood, apparently representing fortifications, which were manned by a dilapidated set of lead soldiers—the earliest treasures of Sam's boyhood, which had been sent to him from home at hisrequest. Sam did not lift his eyes from the table, and moved the men about with his hand as if he were playing a game of chess.
"Here is a friend of yours to see you, Captain," said the doctor.
Sam slowly raised his head and looked at Cleary for some time without recognizing him. Gradually a faint smile made its appearance.
"I know you," he said in the same strained voice. "I know you. You're——"
"Cleary," said Cleary.
"Cleary? Cleary? Let me see. Why, to be sure, you're Cleary." And he rose from his chair unsteadily and took the hand that Cleary offered him.
"How are you, old man? I'm so glad to see you again," said Cleary.
"And so am I," said Sam, who now seemed to be almost his old self again. "Sit down."
Cleary drew up a chair to the table, while the doctor retired and shut the door.
"How are you getting on?" said Cleary. "You're going to get well soon, aren't you?"
"I am well now," said Sam. "I was awfully ill, I know that, but it all came from my mind. I think I told you that. My heart was breaking because I couldn't be a perfect soldier. I had to face the question and grapple with it. It was an awful experience; I can't bear to speak of it or even think of it. But I won. I'm a perfect soldier now! I can do anything with my men here, and I will obey any order I receive, I don't care what it is."
As he spoke of his experience a pained expression came over his face, but he looked proud and almost happy when he announced the result of the conflict.
"They say I'm a lunatic, I know they do," he continued, looking round to see that no one else was present, and lowering his voice to a whisper. "They say I'm a lunatic, but I'm not. When they say I'm a lunatic they mean I'm a perfect soldier—a complete soldier. And they call those fine fellows lead soldiers! Lunatics and lead soldiers indeed! Well, suppose we are! I tell you an army of lead soldiers with a lunatic at the head would be thebest army in the world. We do what we're told, and we're not afraid of anything."
Sam stopped talking at this juncture and went on for some time in silence maneuvering his troops. Finally he picked up the colonel with the white plume, and a ray of light from the afternoon sun fell upon it, and he held it before him, gazing upon it entranced. The door opened, and the doctor entered.
"I fear you must go now, Mr. Cleary. He can't stand much excitement. He's quiet now. Just come out with me without saying anything," and Cleary followed him out of the room, while Sam sat motionless with his eyes fixed on his talisman.
"He sits like that for hours," said the doctor. "It's a kind of hypnotism, I think, which we don't quite understand yet. I am writing up the case forThe Medical Gazette. It's a peculiar kind of insanity, this preoccupation with uniforms and soldiers, and the readiness to do anything a man in regimentals tells him to."
"It's rather more common, perhaps, out of asylums than in them," muttered Cleary, butthe doctor did not hear him. "Do you think he will ever recover, doctor?" he continued.
The doctor shook his head ominously.
"And will he live to old age in this condition?"
"He might, if there were nothing else the matter with him, but there is, and perhaps it's a fortunate thing. He's got a new disease called filariasis, a sort of low fever that he picked up in the Cubapines or Porsslania. There's a good deal of it among the soldiers who have come back. We have a lot of lunatics from the army here and several of them have this new fever too. It wouldn't kill him alone, either, but the two things together will surely carry him off. He will hardly live another half-year."
"I suppose his family is looking out for him?" said Cleary.
page392
"His mother visits him pretty regularly, and his father comes sometimes," said the doctor, "but I think his wife has only been here twice. And she's living at East Point, too, only an hour or two away. She's a born flirt,and I think she's tired of him. I'm told that one of this year's graduates there, a fellow named Saunders, is paying attention to her, and when the poor captain dies, I doubt if she remains long a widow."
"Then I suppose there is nothing I can do for the dear old chap?" asked Cleary, with tears in his eyes, as he took his leave of the doctor at the door of the building.
"Nothing at all, my dear sir. He has everything he wants, and in fact he wants nothing but his lead soldiers. He won't even let us give him a new set of them. And he has all the liberty he wants on the grounds here, and he can walk or even take a drive if he wishes to, for he is perfectly harmless."
"Perfectly harmless!" repeated Cleary to himself, as he got into his carriage. "What an idea! A perfectly harmless soldier!"