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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:31:27 -0700 |
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diff --git a/old/8424-h.htm.2021-01-26 b/old/8424-h.htm.2021-01-26 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc3ec31 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8424-h.htm.2021-01-26 @@ -0,0 +1,28386 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Mohun, by John Esten Cooke + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mohun, or, The Last Days of Lee and his +Paladins, by John Esten Cooke + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mohun, or, The Last Days of Lee and his Paladins + Final Memoirs Of A Staff Officer Serving In Virginia + +Author: John Esten Cooke + + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8424] +This file was first posted on July 9, 2003 +Last Updated: November 3, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAST DAYS OF LEE *** + + + + +Text file produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. Hodges and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + MOHUN + </h1> + <h3> + OR, + </h3> + <h2> + THE LAST DAYS OF LEE AND HIS PALADINS. + </h2> + <h3> + FINAL MEMOIRS + </h3> + <h3> + OF A + </h3> + <h3> + STAFF OFFICER SERVING IN VIRGINIA. + </h3> + <h3> + FROM THE MSS. OF + </h3> + <h3> + COLONEL SURRY, OF EAGLE’S NEST. + </h3> + <h2> + BY JOHN ESTEN COOKE + </h2> + <h4> + AUTHOR OF “SURRY OF EAGLE’S NEST.” + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + <i>Nec aspera terrent.</i> + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h5> + (Transcriber’s Note: In Book I., the heading XIII. is missing) + </h5> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> MOHUN; </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>BOOK I. — GETTYSBURG.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> I. — THE CAVALRY REVIEW. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> II. — HOW I BECAME A MEMBER OF GENERAL + STUART’S STAFF. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> III. — BLUE AND GRAY PHANTOMS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> IV. — MOHUN AND HIS PRISONER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> V. — STUART. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VI. — STUART’S INSTINCT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VII. — THE BALL BEFORE THE BATTLE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> VIII. — FLEETWOOD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> IX. — MOHUN FAINTS AT THE RIGHT MOMENT. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> X. — THE SLIM ANIMAL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XI. — NIGHTHAWK. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XII. — HOW STUART FELL BACK. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XIV. — MOSBY COMES TO STUART’S ASSISTANCE. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XV. — THE SUPPER NEAR BUCKLANDS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVI. — AN HONEST FOP. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVII. — STUART GRAZES CAPTURE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVIII. — DROWSYLAND. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XIX. — CARLISLE BY FIRELIGHT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XX. — THE HOUSE BETWEEN CARLISLE AND + GETTYSBURG. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXI. — FALLEN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXII. — DARKE AND MOHUN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXIII. — GETTYSBURG. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXIV. — THE ARMY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXV. — THE WRESTLE FOR ROUND TOP HILL. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXVI. — THE CHARGE OF THE VIRGINIANS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXVII. — THE GREAT MOMENT OF A GREAT LIFE. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXVIII. — UNSHAKEN. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> <b>BOOK II. — THE FLOWER OF CAVALIERS.</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> I. — UNDER “STUART’S OAK.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> II. — BACK TO THE RAPIDAN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> III. — THE OPENING OF THE HUNT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> IV. — THE GAME A-FOOT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> V. — THE CHASE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> VI. — THE RUSE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> VII. — STUART CAUGHT IN THE TRAP. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> VIII. — GENERAL MEADE’S “EYE-TEETH.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> IX. — WHAT THE AUTHOR HAS OMITTED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> X. — I FALL A VICTIM TO TOM’S ILL-LUCK. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> XI. — I OVERHEAR A SINGULAR CONVERSATION. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> XII. — THE BUCKLAND RACES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> XIII. — TWO SCENES IN DECEMBER, 1863. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> XIV. — STUART’S WINTER QUARTERS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> XV. — LEE’S “RAGGED REGIMENTS.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> XVI. — HAMMER AND RAPIER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> XVII. — FORT DELAWARE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> XVIII. — THE UNIFORM. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> XIX. — THE NOTE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> XX. — GENERAL GRANT’S PRIVATE ORDER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> XXI. — “VIRGINIA EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO + HIS DUTY!” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> XXII. — WHAT OCCURRED AT WARRENTON. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0054"> XXIII. — THE GRAVE OF ACHMED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0055"> XXIV. — A NIGHT BIRD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0056"> XXV. — THE APPOINTMENT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0057"> XXVI. — STUART SINGS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0058"> XXVII. — MOHUN RIDES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0059"> XXVIII. — THE SPY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0060"> XXIX. — THE PAPER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0061"> XXX. — GRANT STRIKES HIS FIRST BLOW. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0062"> XXXI. — THE REPORT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0063"> XXXII. — THE UNSEEN DEATH. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0064"> XXXIII. — BREATHED AND HIS GUN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0065"> XXXIV. — MY LAST RIDE WITH STUART. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0066"> XXXV. — “SOON WITH ANGELS I’LL BE + MARCHING.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0067"> XXXVI. — YELLOW TAVERN, MAY 11, 1864. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0068"> <b>BOOK III. — BEHIND THE SCENES.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0069"> I. — WHAT I DID NOT SEE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0070"> II. — THE “DOOMED CITY.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0071"> III. — I DINE WITH MR. BLOCQUE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0072"> IV. — JOHN M. DANIEL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0073"> V. — THE EDITOR IN HIS SANCTUM. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0074"> VI. — AN EDITORIAL IN THE EXAMINER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0075"> VII. — UNDER THE CROSSED SWORDS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0076"> VIII. — MR. X——-. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0077"> IX. — “SEND ME A COPY.—IN CANADA!” + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0078"> X. — THE WAY THE MONEY WENT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0079"> XI. — THE PASS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0080"> XII. — THE GRAVE OF STUART. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0081"> XIII. — THE CEDARS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0082"> XIV. — THE SITUATION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0083"> XV. — MOHUN AGAIN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0084"> XVI. — “FIVE FORKS.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0085"> XVII. — GENERAL DAVENANT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0086"> XVIII. — TWO MEN AND A WOMAN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0087"> XIX. — THE MURDER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0088"> XX. — THE KNIFE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0089"> XXI. — THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0090"> XXII. — THE TRIAL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0091"> XXIII. — WHAT THE LETTER CONTAINED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0092"> XXIV. — “BLOOD.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0093"> XXV. — THE BLUE SERPENT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0094"> XXVI. — THE HOUSE NEAR MONK’S NECK, AND + ITS OWNER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0095"> XXVII. — STARVATION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0096"> XXVIII. — BIRDS OF PREY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0097"> XXIX. — DARKE’S PAST LIFE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0098"> XXX. — STABBED “NOT MURDERED.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0099"> XXXI. — THE TWO PAPERS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0100"> XXXII. — A PISTOL-SHOT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0101"> XXXIII. — PRESTON HAMPTON. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0102"> XXXIV. — I AM CAPTURED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0103"> XXXV. — FACE TO FACE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0104"> XXXVI. — THE CURSE. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0105"> <b>BOOK IV. — THE PHANTOMS.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0106"> I. — RICHMOND BY THE THROAT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0107"> II. — NIGHTMARE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0108"> III. — LEE’S MISERABLES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0109"> IV. — THE BLANDFORD RUINS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0110"> V. — LES FORTUNÉS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0111"> VI. — ON THE BANKS OF THE ROWANTY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0112"> VII. — THE STUART HORSE ARTILLERY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0113"> VIII. — “CHARGE! STUART! PAY OFF ASHBY’S + SCORE!” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0114"> IX. — MOHUN,—HIS THIRD PHASE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0115"> X. — AMANDA. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0116"> XI. — DEEP UNDER DEEP. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0117"> XII. — HOW THE MOMENT AT LAST CAME. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0118"> XIII. — FONTHILL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0119"> XIV. — “LORD OF HIMSELF, THAT HERITAGE OF + WOE.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0120"> XV. — THE STORM. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0121"> XVI. — ACT I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0122"> XVII. — THE WILL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0123"> XVIII. — THE MARRIAGE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0124"> XIX. — WEDDING ARRANGEMENTS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0125"> XX. — THE CUP OF TEA. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0126"> XXI. — THE FOILS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0127"> XXII. — WHILE WAITING FOR MIDNIGHT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0128"> XXIII. — THE RESULT OF THE SIGNAL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0129"> XXIV. — WHAT TOOK PLACE IN FIFTY MINUTES. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0130"> XXV. — GOING TO REJOIN MORTIMER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0131"> XXVI. — AFTERWARD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0132"> XXVII. — MOHUN TERMINATES HIS NARRATIVE. + </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0133"> <b>BOOK V. — THE DEAD GO FAST.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0134"> I. — THE “DOOMED CITY” IN PROFILE—DECEMBER, + 1864. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0135"> II. — THE MEN WHO RUINED THE CONFEDERACY. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0136"> III. — MY LAST VISIT TO JOHN M. DANIEL. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0137"> IV. — GARROTED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0138"> V. — THE CLOAKED WOMAN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0139"> VI. — THE HEART OF A STATESMAN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0140"> VII. — SECRET SERVICE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0141"> VIII. — BY FLAG-OF-TRUCE BOAT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0142"> IX. — TO AND FRO IN THE SPRING OF ‘65. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0143"> X. — AEGRI SOMNIA.—MARCH, 1865. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0144"> XI. — I VISIT GENERAL FITZHUGH LEE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0145"> XII. — BY A FIRE IN THE WOODS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0146"> XIII. — DRINKING TEA UNDER DIFFICULTIES. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0147"> XIV. — MR. ALIBI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0148"> XV. — FROM FIVE FORKS TO PETERSBURG. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0149"> XVI. — LEE’S LAST GREAT BLOW. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0150"> XVII. — THE WRESTLE FOR THE WHITE OAK + ROAD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0151"> XVIII. — THE BRIDEGROOM. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0152"> XIX. — THE CEREMONY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0153"> XX. — WHAT OCCURRED AT “FIVE FORKS,” ON + THE NIGHT OF MARCH 31, 1865. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0154"> XXI. — FIVE FORKS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0155"> XXII. — “THE LINE HAS BEEN STRETCHED UNTIL + IT HAS BROKEN, COLONEL.”. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0156"> XXIII. — WHAT I SAW FROM THE GRAVE OF + STUART. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0157"> XXIV. — THE RETREAT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0158"> XXV. — HUNTED DOWN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0159"> XXVI. — THE LAST COUNCIL OF WAR OF THE + ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0160"> XXVII. — THE NIGHT BEFORE THE SURRENDER. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0161"> XXVIII. — THE LAST CHARGE OF THE OLD + GUARD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0162"> XXIX. — THE SURRENDER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_EPIL"> EPILOGUE. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROLOGUE. + </h2> + <p> + On the wall over the mantel-piece, here in my quiet study at Eagle’s-Nest, + are two crossed swords. One is a battered old sabre worn at Gettysburg, + and Appomattox; the other, a Federal officer’s dress sword captured in + 1863. + </p> + <p> + It was a mere fancy to place them there, as it was a whim to hang upon + that nail yonder, the uniform coat with its stars and braid, which Stuart + wore on his famous ride around McClellan in 1862. Under the swords hang + portraits of Lee, Jackson, and Stuart. Jackson wears his old coat, and his + brow is raised as though he were looking out from beneath his yellow old + cadet cap. Stuart is seated, grasping his sabre, with his plumed hat + resting on his knee. His huge beard flows on his breast, his eyes are + clear and penetrating, and beneath the picture I have placed a slip cut + from one of his letters to me, and containing the words, “Yours to count + on, J.E.B. Stuart.” Lastly, the gray commander-in-chief looks with a grave + smile over his shoulder, the eyes fixed upon that excellent engraving of + the “Good Old Rebel,” a private of the Army of Northern Virginia, seated + on a log, after the war, and reflecting with knit brows on the past and + the present. + </p> + <p> + From this sketch of my surroundings, worthy reader, you will perceive, + that I amuse myself by recalling the old times when the Grays and Blues + were opposed to each other. Those two swords crossed—those pictures + of Lee, Jackson, Stuart, and the “Old Rebel”—you are certain to + think that the possessor of them is unreconstructed (terrible word!) and + still a rebel! + </p> + <p> + But is it wrong to remember the past? I think of it without bitterness. + God decreed it—God the all-wise, the all-merciful—for his own + purpose. I do not indulge any repinings, or reflect with rancor upon the + issue of the struggle. I prefer recalling the stirring adventure, the + brave voices, the gallant faces: even in that tremendous drama of 1864-5, + I can find something besides blood and tears: even here and there some + sunshine! + </p> + <p> + In this last series of my memoirs I shall deal chiefly with that immense + campaign. In the first series which, I trust the reader of these pages + will have perused, I followed Jackson through his hard battles to the + fatal field of Chancellorsville. In this volume I shall beg the reader + first to go with Stuart from the great review of his cavalry, in June, + 1863, to the dark morning of May 11, 1864, at Yellow Tavern. Then the last + days will follow. + </p> + <p> + I open the drama with that fine cavalry review in June, 1863, on the + Plains of Culpeper. + </p> + <p> + It is a pleasure to return to it—for Gettysburg blackened the + sunshine soon. The column thundered by; the gay bugles rang; the great + banner floated. Where is that pageant to-day? Where the old moons of + Villon? Alas! the strong hours work their will. June, 1863, is long dead. + The cavalry horses, if they came back from the wars, are ploughing. The + rusty sabres stick fast in the battered old scabbards. The old saddles are + shabby—and our friends take them away from us. The old buttons are + tarnished, and an order forbids our wearing them. The brass bands clash no + more; and the bugles are silent. Where are the drums and the bugles? Do + they beat the long roll at the approach of phantom foes, or sound the + cavalry charge in another world? They are silent to-day, and have long + disappeared; but I think I hear them still in my dreams! + </p> + <p> + It is in June, 1863, therefore, worthy reader, that I open my volume. Up + to that time I had gone with Jackson’s “foot cavalry,” marching slowly and + steadily to battle. Now, I was to follow the gay and adventurous career of + the Virginia Rupert—Stuart, the Knight of the Black Plume! If you + are willing to accompany me, I promise to show you some animated scenes. + You will hear Stuart laugh as he leads the charge, or jest with his staff, + or sing his gay cavalry songs. But, alas! we shall not go far with him; + and when he leaves us a sort of shadow will fall upon the landscape. From + that May, 1864, laughter will seldom be heard. The light which shines on + the great picture will be red and baleful. Blood will gush on desperate + fields—men will fall like dry leaves in the winds of autumn. + </p> + <p> + The crimson torrent will sweep away a whole generation almost—and + the Red Cross flag will go down in blood. + </p> + <p> + The current of events will drag us to Petersburg, and those last months + which witnessed the final wrestle in this war of the giants. + </p> + <p> + Let us bask in the sunshine, before breasting the storm. The pages of + blood and mourning will soon be opened—meanwhile we will laugh. + </p> + <p> + In this June, 1863, faces smile still, and cheers resound. Bugles are + ringing, swords clashing, cannon thundering. + </p> + <p> + Lee’s old army is full of ardor, and seventy thousand men shout! + “Pennsylvania! Pennsylvania!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MOHUN; + </h2> + <h3> + OR, + </h3> + <h3> + THE LAST DAYS OF LEE AND HIS PALADINS. + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK I. — GETTYSBURG. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. — THE CAVALRY REVIEW. + </h2> + <p> + On a beautiful day of June, 1863, the plains of Culpeper, in Virginia, + were the scene of an imposing pageant. + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s cavalry was passing in review before Lee, who was about to + commence his march toward Gettysburg. + </p> + <p> + Those of my readers who were fortunate enough to be present, will not + forget that scene. They will remember the martial form of Stuart at the + head of his <i>sabreurs</i>; how the columns of horsemen thundered by the + great flag; how the multitude cheered, brightest eyes shone, the merry + bands clashed, the gay bugles rang; how the horse artillery roared as it + was charged in mimic battle—while Lee, the gray old soldier, with + serene carriage, sat his horse and looked on. + </p> + <p> + Never had the fields of Culpeper witnessed a spectacle more magnificent. + The sunshine darted in lightnings from the long line of sabres, lit up + beautiful faces, and flashed from scarfs, and waving handkerchiefs, rosy + cheeks, and glossy ringlets. All was life, and joy, and splendor. For once + war seemed turned to carnival; and flowers wreathed the keen edge of the + sword. + </p> + <p> + Among the illustrious figures gazed at by the crowd, two were the observed + of all the observers—those of Lee and Stuart. + </p> + <p> + Lee sat his powerful horse, with its plain soldierly equipments, beneath + the large flag. He was clad in a gray uniform, almost without mark of + rank. Cavalry boots reached nearly to his knees; as usual he wore no + sword; over his broad brow drooped a plain brown felt hat, without tassel + or decoration. Beneath, you saw a pair of frank and benignant, but + penetrating eyes, ruddy cheeks, and an iron gray mustache and beard, both + cut close. In the poise of the stately head, as in the whole carriage of + his person, there was something calm, august and imposing. This man, it + was plain, was not only great, but good;—the true type of the race + of gentlemen of other times. + </p> + <p> + Stuart, the chief of cavalry of the army, was altogether different in + appearance. Young, ardent, full of life and abandon, he was the true + reproduction of Rupert, said to be his ancestor. The dark cavalry feather; + the lofty forehead, and dazzling blue eyes; his little “fighting jacket,” + as he called it, bright with braid and buttons, made a picture. His boots + reached to the knee; a yellow silk sash was about his waist; his spurs, of + solid gold, were the present of some ladies of Maryland; and with saber at + tierce point, extended over his horse’s head, he led the charge with his + staff, in front of the column, and laughing, as though the notes of the + bugle drove him forward. + </p> + <p> + In every movement of that stalwart figure, as in the glance of the blue + eyes, and the laughter curling the huge mustache, could be read youth and + joy, and a courage which nothing could bend. He was called a “boy” by + some, as Coriolanus was before him. But his Federal adversaries did not + laugh at him; they had felt his blows too often. Nor did the soldiers of + the army. He had breasted bullets in front of infantry, as well as the + sabre in front of cavalry. The civilians might laugh at him—the old + soldiers found no fault in him for humming his songs in battle. They knew + the man, and felt that he was a good soldier, as well as a great general. + He would have made an excellent private, and did not feel “above” being + one. Never was human being braver, if he did laugh and sing. Was he not + brave? Answer, old sabreurs, whom he led in a hundred charges! old + followers of Jackson, with whom he went over the breastworks at + Chancellorsville! + </p> + <p> + Some readers may regard this picture of Stuart as overdrawn; but it is the + simple truth of that brave soul. He had his faults; he loved praise, even + flattery, and was sometimes irascible—but I have never known a human + being more pure, generous and brave. + </p> + <p> + At sunset the review was over. The long columns of cavalry moved slowly + back to their camps. The horse artillery followed; the infantry who had + witnessed the ceremony sought their bivouacs in the woods; and the crowd, + on foot, on horseback, or in carriages, returned toward the Court-House, + whose spires were visible across the fields. + </p> + <p> + Stuart had approached the flag-staff and, doffing his plumed hat, had + saluted Lee, who saluted in return, and complimented the review. After a + few moments’ conversation, they had then saluted a second time. Lee, + followed by his staff, rode toward his quarters; and Stuart set out to + return to his own. + </p> + <p> + We had ridden about half a mile, when Stuart turned his head and called + me. I rode to his side. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would ride down toward Beverly’s Ford, Surry,” he said, “and + tell Mordaunt to keep a bright lookout to-night. They must have heard our + artillery on the other side of the river, and may want to find out what it + means.” + </p> + <p> + I saluted, and turned my horse. Stuart cantered on singing. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes he was out of sight, and I was riding toward the + Rappahannock. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. — HOW I BECAME A MEMBER OF GENERAL STUART’S STAFF. + </h2> + <p> + If the reader has done me the honor to peruse the first volume of my + memoirs, I indulge the vanity of supposing that he will like to be + informed how I became a member of General Stuart’s staff. + </p> + <p> + When oaks crash down they are apt to prostrate the saplings growing around + them. Jackson was a very tall oak, and I a very humble sapling. When the + great trunk fell, the mere twig disappeared. I had served with Jackson + from the beginning of the war; that king of battle dead at + Chancellorsville, I had found myself without a commander, and without a + home. I was not only called upon in that May of 1863, to mourn the + illustrious soldier, who had done me the honor to call me his friend; I + had also to look around me for some other general; some other position in + the army. + </p> + <p> + I was revolving this important subject in my mind, when I received a note + from General J.E.B. Stuart, Jackson’s friend and brother in arms. “Come + and see me,” said this note. Forty-eight hours afterward I was at Stuart’s + head-quarters, near Culpeper Court-House. + </p> + <p> + When I entered his tent, or rather breadth of canvas, stretched beneath a + great oak, Stuart rose from the red blanket upon which he was lying, and + held out his hand. As he gazed at me in silence I could see his face + flush. + </p> + <p> + “You remind me of Jackson,” he said, retaining my hand and gazing fixedly + at me. + </p> + <p> + I bowed my head, making no other reply; for the sight of Stuart brought + back to me also many memories; the scouting of the Valley, the hard + combats of the Lowland, Cold Harbor, Manassas, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, + and that last greeting between Jackson and the great commander of the + cavalry, on the weird moonlight night at Chancellorsville. + </p> + <p> + Stuart continued to gaze at me, and I could see his eyes slowly fill with + tears. + </p> + <p> + “It is a national calamity!” he murmured. “Jackson’s loss is + irreparable!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + He remained for a moment gazing into my face, then passing his hand over + his forehead, he banished by a great effort these depressing memories. His + bold features resumed their habitual cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + Our dialogue was brief, and came rapidly to the point. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been assigned to duty yet, my dear Surry?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to come with me?” + </p> + <p> + “More than with any general in the army, since Jackson’s death. You know I + am sincere in saying that.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks—then the matter can be very soon arranged, I think. I want + another inspector-general, and want <i>you</i>.” + </p> + <p> + With these words Stuart seated himself at his desk, wrote a note, which, + he dispatched by a courier to army head-quarters; and then throwing aside + business, he began laughing and talking. + </p> + <p> + For once the supply of red tape in Richmond seemed temporarily exhausted. + Stuart was Lee’s right hand, and when he made a request, the War Office + deigned to listen. Four days afterward, I was seated under the canvas of a + staff tent, when Stuart hastened up with boyish ardor, holding a paper. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are, old Surry,”—when he used the prefix “old” to any + one’s name, he was always excellently well disposed toward them,—“the + Richmond people are prompt this time. Here is your assignment—send + for Sweeney and his banjo! He shall play ‘Jine the Cavalry!’ in honor of + the occasion, Surry!” + </p> + <p> + You see now, my dear reader, how it happened that in June, 1863, Stuart + beckoned to me, and gave me an order to transmit to General Mordaunt. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. — BLUE AND GRAY PHANTOMS. + </h2> + <p> + As I rode toward the Rappahannock to deliver Stuart’s order to General + Mordaunt, the wide landscape was suddenly lit up by a crimson glare. I + looked over my shoulder. The sun was poised upon the western woods, and + resembled a huge bloodshot eye. Above it extended a long black cloud, like + an eyebrow—and from the cloud issued low thunder. + </p> + <p> + When a storm is coming, the civilian seeks shelter; but the soldier + carrying an order, wraps his cape around him, and rides on. I went on past + Brandy and Fleetwood Hill, descended toward the river, entered a great + belt of woods—then night and storm descended simultaneously. An + artillery duel seemed going on in the clouds; the flickering lightnings + amid the branches resembled serpents of fire: the wind rolled through the + black wood, tearing off boughs in its passage. + </p> + <p> + I pushed my horse to full speed to emerge from this scene of crashing + limbs and tottering trunks. I had just passed a little stream, when from a + by-road on my left came the trample of hoofs. It is good to be on the + watch in the cavalry, and I wheeled to the right, listening—when all + at once a brilliant flash of lightning showed me, within fifty paces, a + column of <i>blue</i> cavalry. + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” rang out from the column, and a pistol-shot followed. + </p> + <p> + I did not halt. Capture was becoming a hideous affair in June, 1863. I + passed across the head of the column at full speed, followed by bullets; + struck into a bridle-path on the right, and pushed ahead, hotly pursued. + </p> + <p> + They had followed me nearly half a mile, firing on me, and ordering me to + halt, when suddenly a sonorous “Halt!” resounded fifty yards in front of + me; and a moment afterward, a carbine ball passed through my riding cape. + </p> + <p> + I drove on at full speed, convinced that these in front were friends; and + the chest of my horse struck violently against that of another in the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Halt, or you are dead!” came in the same commanding voice. + </p> + <p> + Another flash of lightning showed me a squadron of <i>gray</i> cavalry: at + their head rode a cavalier, well mounted; it was his horse against which I + had struck, and he held a cocked pistol to my breast. + </p> + <p> + The lightning left nothing in doubt. Gray and blue quickly recognized each + other. The blue cavalry had drawn rein, and, at that moment, the leader of + the grays shouted—“Charge!” A rush of hoofs, and then a quick clash + of sabres followed. The adversaries had hurled together. The wood suddenly + became the scene of a violent combat. + </p> + <p> + It was a rough affair. For ten minutes the result was doubtful. The + Federal cavalry were apparently commanded by an officer of excellent + nerve, and he fought his men obstinately. For nearly a quarter of an hour + the wood was full of sabre-strokes, carbine-shots, and yells, which + mingled with the roll of the storm. Then the fight ended. + </p> + <p> + My friend of the cocked pistol threw himself, sabre in hand, upon the + Federal front, and it shook, and gave back, and retreated. The weight of + the onset seemed to sweep it, inch by inch, away. The blue squadron + finally broke, and scattered in every direction. The grays pressed on with + loud cheers, firing as they did so:—five minutes afterward, the + storm-lashed wood had swallowed pursuers and pursued. + </p> + <p> + The whole had disappeared like phantom horsemen in the direction of the + Rappahannock. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. — MOHUN AND HIS PRISONER. + </h2> + <p> + Half an hour afterward, the storm had spent its fury, and I was standing + by a bivouac fire on the banks of the Rappahannock, conversing with the + officer against whom I had driven my horse in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Mounted upon a powerful gray, he had led the attack with a sort of fury, + and I now looked at him with some curiosity. + </p> + <p> + He was a man of about thirty, of gaunt face and figure, wearing a hat with + a black feather, and the uniform of a colonel of cavalry. The features + were regular and might have been called handsome; the eyes, hair, + mustache, and imperial—he wore no beard—coal black; the + complexion so pale that the effect was startling. More curious than all + else, however, was the officer’s expression. In the lips and eyes could be + read something bitterly cynical, mingled with a profound and apparently + ineradicable melancholy. After looking at my new acquaintance for an + instant, I said to myself: “This man has either suffered some great grief, + or committed some great crime.” + </p> + <p> + His bearing was cold, but courteous. + </p> + <p> + “I recognized you as soon as I saw you, colonel,” he said, in response to + my salute. “You probably do not know me, however, as I have just been + transferred from the Army of the West. Colonel Mohun, at your service.” + </p> + <p> + I exchanged a pressure of the hand with Colonel Mohun, or, speaking more + correctly, I grasped his. It did not return the pressure. I then thanked + him for his timely appearance, and he bowed coldly. + </p> + <p> + “It was lucky that my scout led me in this direction,” he said, “that + party is whipped back over the river, and will give us no more trouble + to-night—the woods are full of their dead and wounded.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke he took a cigar case from his pocket, and presented it. + </p> + <p> + “Will you smoke, sir?” he said. + </p> + <p> + I bowed and selected a cigar. Colonel Mohun imitated me, and was about to + commence smoking, when two or three cavalry men were seen approaching + through the gloom, apparently escorting some one. + </p> + <p> + As they drew nearer the figures became plainer in the firelight. The + cavalry men had in charge a female prisoner. + </p> + <p> + She was a woman of petite figure, clad in a handsome gray riding-habit, + and mounted upon a superb horse, with rich equipments, apparently + belonging to a Federal officer of high rank. From the horse, I glanced at + the prisoner’s face. It was a strange countenance. She was about + twenty-five—her complexion was dead white, except the lips which + were as red as carnations; her eyes were large and brilliant, her hair + dark and worn plain under a small riding-hat. In one delicately gauntleted + hand she held the rein of her horse—with the other, which was + ungloved, she raised a lace handkerchief to her lips. On the finger + sparkled a diamond. + </p> + <p> + There was something strange in the expression of this woman. She looked + “dangerous” in spite of her calmness. + </p> + <p> + She sat gazing at some one behind me, with the handkerchief still raised + to her lips. Then she took it away, and I could see a smile upon them. + </p> + <p> + What was the origin of that smile, and at whom was she looking? I turned, + and found myself face to face with Colonel Mohun. His appearance almost + frightened me. His countenance wore the hue of a corpse, his whole frame + shook with quick shudders, and his eyes were distended until the black + pupils shone in the centres of two white circles. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly his teeth clinched audibly; he passed his hand over his forehead + streaming with cold sweat; and said in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “Then you are not dead, madam?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” the prisoner replied tranquilly. + </p> + <p> + Mohun gazed at her with a long, fixed look. As he did so his features + gradually resumed the cold and cynical expression which I had first + observed in them. + </p> + <p> + “This meeting is singular,” he said. + </p> + <p> + A satirical smile passed over the lips of the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Our last interview was very different, was it not, sir?” she said. “The + Nottoway was higher than the Rappahannock is to-night, and you did not + expect to meet me again—so soon!” + </p> + <p> + Mohun continued to gaze at her with the same fixed look. + </p> + <p> + “No, madam,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You recall that agreeable evening, do you not, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Mohun coolly inclined his head. + </p> + <p> + “And you have not seen me since?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible that I could have forgotten so pleasing a circumstance, + madam?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Where and when have I seen you since that time?” + </p> + <p> + “Everywhere, and at all times!—awake and asleep, day and night!” + </p> + <p> + Mohun shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “True,” he said, with a bitter smile. + </p> + <p> + “You remember, then! I am not wrong!” exclaimed the prisoner, gazing + intently at him. + </p> + <p> + Mohun raised his head, and I could see the old cynical expression upon his + lips. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I remember, madam,” he said. “Do you think it possible for any + one to forget your charming ladyship? And could any thing be more + delightful than this interview between two old friends? But let us reserve + these sweet confidences, these gushing emotions! One thing only is + wanting, to perfect the happiness of this moment; the presence this + evening of <i>your dear brother</i>!—but he is doubtless detained + elsewhere!” + </p> + <p> + Mohun’s expression was singular as he uttered these words. The prisoner + looked at him as he was speaking with an indescribable smile. I can only + compare it to that of the swordsman about to deliver a mortal lunge. + </p> + <p> + “My brother,” she said, in accents as soft as a flute; “detained + elsewhere, do you say, sir? You are mistaken in supposing so. He commanded + the cavalry with which you were fighting to-night!” + </p> + <p> + At these words, uttered in a strange, mocking voice, I saw Mohun start as + if a rattlesnake had bitten his heel. With all his self-possession he + could not restrain this exhibition of emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible! You are deceiving me—” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner interrupted him with a gay laugh. + </p> + <p> + “So you do not believe me,” she said; “you think, my dear sir, that + everybody is dead but yourself! Dismiss that idea from your mind! <i>I</i> + am not dead, since we have the pleasure of again meeting in the flesh. <i>He</i> + is not dead! No! it was Colonel Mortimer Darke whom you fought to-night. + This is his horse which I borrowed to take a short ride. I have been + captured, but <i>he</i> is neither dead nor captured, and you will + doubtless receive some friendly message from him soon.” + </p> + <p> + Under the mocking accents and the satirical glance, it was easy to read + profound hatred. The speaker could not hide that. At that moment she + resembled a tigress about to spring. + </p> + <p> + Mohun had listened with absorbing attention as his companion spoke; but, + as on the first occasion, he speedily suppressed his agitation. His face + was now as cold and unmoved as though moulded of bronze. + </p> + <p> + “So be it, madam,” he said; “I will respond as I best can to such message + as he may send me. For yourself, you know me well, and, I am glad to see, + indulge no apprehensions. The past is dead; let it sleep. You think this + interview is painful to me. You deceive yourself, madam; I would not + exchange it for all the wealth of two hemispheres.” + </p> + <p> + And calling an officer, he said:— + </p> + <p> + “You will conduct this lady to General Stuart, reporting the circumstances + attending her capture.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun made a ceremonious bow to the prisoner as he spoke, saluted me in + the same manner, and mounting his horse, rode back at the head of his + column. + </p> + <p> + The prisoner, escorted by the young officer, and still riding her fine + horse, had already disappeared in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. — STUART. + </h2> + <p> + An hour afterward, I had delivered my message to Mordaunt, and was + returning by the road over Fleetwood Hill, thinking of the singular + dialogue between Mohun and the gray woman. + </p> + <p> + What had these worthies meant by their mysterious allusions? How had Mohun + found himself face to face on this stormy night, with two human beings + whom he thought dead? + </p> + <p> + These questions puzzled me for half an hour; then I gave up the mystery, + laughing. An hour afterward I had passed through Culpeper Court-House, + crossed the fields, and had reached General Stuart’s headquarters. + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s tent, or rather the strip of canvas which he called one, was + pitched beneath a great oak on a wooded knoll about a mile south of the + little village. Above it drooped the masses of fresh June foliage; around, + were grouped the white canvas “flies” of the staff; in a glade close by + gleamed the tents d’abri of the couriers. Horses, tethered to the trees, + champed their corn in the shadow; in the calm, summer night, the + battle-flag drooped and clung to its staff. Before the tent of Stuart, a + man on guard, with drawn sabre, paced to and fro with measured steps. + </p> + <p> + A glance told me that Mohun’s singular prisoner had arrived. A courier was + holding her fine animal near the general’s tent, and as I dismounted, + three figures’ appeared in the illuminated doorway. These were the figures + of Stuart, the “gray woman,” and a young aid-de-camp. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell, madam,” said Stuart, bowing and laughing; “I am sorry to have + made your acquaintance under circumstances so disagreeable to you; but I + trust you will appreciate the situation, and not blame me.” + </p> + <p> + “Blame you? Not in the least, general. You are a very gallant man.” + </p> + <p> + And the gay words were accompanied by a musical laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You will have an opportunity of seeing the Confederate capital,” said + Stuart, smiling. + </p> + <p> + The lady made a humorous grimace. + </p> + <p> + “And of abusing me upon the way thither; and afterward on the route to + Port Monroe and Washington, as you will not be detained, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not abuse you, sir. You are the noblest gentleman I have ever + known."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: The real words of Stuart’s prisoner} + </p> + <p> + And with mutual salutes they parted—the young aid-de-camp + accompanying the lady to her horse, and aiding her to mount. They then set + forward toward the Court-House. Stuart had ordered the prisoner to be + conducted thither, and detained at the village tavern, under guard, until + morning, when she would be sent to Richmond. + </p> + <p> + As they disappeared, I entered the general’s tent, and found him laughing. + Leaning one hand upon his desk, covered with papers, upon which rested his + feather-decorated hat, he carelessly played with the tassel of his yellow + sash with the other hand. His blue eyes sparkled, and his mustache curled + with humor. + </p> + <p> + “That is really a beauty, Surry?” he said, “and I have laughed heartily.” + </p> + <p> + He threw himself on his red blanket as he spoke, and began playing with + his two setter pups, whose names were “Nip” and “Tuck.” He had brought + them out of the lines on his saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you are really a magician,” I said. “You charm the evil spirit, and + make prisoners laugh.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart laughed in reply. + </p> + <p> + “That is a curious person that Mohun sent me,” he said; “at first she was + disdainful enough; but I paid her a few compliments, and now she is in an + excellent humor, as you saw.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But what about the fight?” + </p> + <p> + I made my report of the events of the evening. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mohun is a trump,” said Stuart. “A new man, but seems made of the + right stuff—real steel. What does Mordaunt say of the attack?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a scout.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, and this lady is our spoil! She is handsome, is she not? But a + more curious face I have never seen. White cheeks and red lips—a + sort of devil and angel mixed! Who is she, I wonder, and what was her + errand. Something is under it. She gave her name as ‘Mrs. Darke,’—and + her horse made me break the tenth commandment, Surry! Lady and courser are + splendid.” + </p> + <p> + “She is certainly a beauty.” + </p> + <p> + “And what eyes!” + </p> + <p> + “Dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart remained silent for some moments, and then I heard him sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, my dear Surry,” he said, “that if people heard us talk in + this way, they would call us libertines—immoral—any thing? + There are two things that people will not disbelieve about me—that I + am impure, and a drunkard! Do you know what a good man was heard to say of + me the other day? ‘Stuart would be one of the greatest soldiers in the + army, if he did not drink so hard!’ {1} And others add: ‘if he were not a + libertine.’ Well, need I defend myself to <i>you</i>, from these charges? + I promised my mother in my childhood, never to touch ardent spirits, and a + drop has never passed my lips, except the wine of the communion.{2} I know + I need not tell you that I am equally guiltless of the other imputation. + That person does not live who can say that I ever did any thing improper + of that description. And yet I am a drunkard—a libertine—I, + who never touched drink, and love but one person in this world!” + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: This was actually said of Stuart.} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 2: His words} + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s head sank, and he uttered a weary sigh. + </p> + <p> + “They will not let me alone,” he muttered, “and yet I am here fighting for + my country. But I defy them to take my good name away from me, Surry!” + </p> + <p> + And he rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “General Lee knows me! Jackson knew me! I have the regard of the one, and + I had the love of the other. What do I care? If my children only will not + hear these ignoble charges! <i>One</i> can never hear them, Surry—my + beloved little Flora! She died while I was fighting near Middleburg in the + fall of ‘62—that nearly broke me down—” + </p> + <p> + And Stuart paused and covered his eyes with his hand. Between the fingers + I saw a tear. + </p> + <p> + For a moment his breast heaved—something like a sob issued from the + brave lip, whereon the heavy mustache trembled. + </p> + <p> + “I think of her often—I shall never get over her death, Surry!”{1} + he murmured. “They think me hard and cold, and bad perhaps—it is + nothing. Since she died I care less for men’s opinion, and only try to do + my duty, till the ball comes that will end me.” + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + And dashing a tear from his eyes, Stuart walked to the door of his tent, + from which he gazed forth upon the stars. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes passed thus, and I did not speak. Then all at once I heard + Stuart call out: “Orderly!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” came from the man on post near the tent. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Sweeney to come and bring his banjo!” + </p> + <p> + And walking fifty steps, Stuart caressed the glossy neck of his mare “Lady + Margaret,” who was tethered to a bough, and looked around affectionately + at her master. + </p> + <p> + When he returned he was humming “The dew lay on the blossom,” and + following him was Sweeney—the same old Sweeney!—ever mild, + courteous, almost sad, doffing his cap, saluting with simple grace, and + tuning his banjo. + </p> + <p> + In a moment the tent, the wooded knoll, the whole vicinity was ringing + with the uproarious notes of the mirth-inspiring banjo; and Sweeney was + chanting, as only that great master <i>could</i> chant, the mighty epic of + the sabreurs of Stuart:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “If you want to have a good time + Jine the cavalry, + Bully Boys, hey!” + </pre> + <p> + The staff and couriers quickly assembled, the servants were grouped in the + starlight, the horses beneath the boughs turned their intelligent heads—and + leading in the uproarious chorus might have been heard the sonorous and + laughing voice of Stuart. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. — STUART’S INSTINCT. + </h2> + <p> + The festivities were kept up until nearly midnight. + </p> + <p> + Then Stuart yawned; said with a laugh, “Good morning, gentle-<i>men</i>” + as was his habit when he wished to work; and the tent was soon deserted. + </p> + <p> + I retired to rest, but at three in the morning felt a hand upon my + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “The general is going to move, colonel, and wishes to see you,” said the + orderly. + </p> + <p> + I rose, made my brief toilet, and went toward Stuart’s tent where a light + was shining. He was writing busily at his desk, as fresh and gay as on the + preceding evening. His enormous constitution defied fatigue. + </p> + <p> + All at once I saw that there was another personage in the tent. He was a + young man of about twenty, of slight figure, beardless face, and an + expression so shy and retiring that he seemed ready to blush if you spoke + to him. He wore, nevertheless, the uniform of a captain of artillery; and + I remember wondering how this girlish and shrinking personage, with the + large, sad eyes, had come to hold a commission. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Davenant, of my horse artillery, Colonel Surry,” said Stuart. + </p> + <p> + The youth colored, and then with an air of painful embarrassment took a + step forward and pressed my hand. The grasp of the slender fingers was + like the grip of a steel vice. + </p> + <p> + “Davenant has been on a scout across the Rappahannock, to keep his hand + in,” said Stuart, busily writing. “My horse artillery boys do a little of + every thing—and Davenant is a wild-cat, Surry, with a touch of the + bull dog, in spite of his looks!” + </p> + <p> + The young officer drew back blushing more than ever at these words. His + confusion seemed to deprive him of the power of utterance. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll bet he’s blushing now!” said Stuart, laughing and continuing to + write with his back turned, as he spoke. “He is blushing or sighing—for + the poor Yankees he has killed, doubtless!” + </p> + <p> + “You are laughing at me, general,” said the young man timidly. “Well, my + laughter won’t hurt you, Davenant. I never joke with people I don’t like. + But to business. The enemy are going to attack me, Surry. Get ready, I am + going to move.” + </p> + <p> + “Ready, general.” + </p> + <p> + “All right!—Hagan!” + </p> + <p> + “General!” + </p> + <p> + The voice came like an echo. Then at the door appeared the gigantic, + black-bearded Lieutenant Hagan, chief of the general’s escort. Have you + forgotten him, my dear reader?—his huge figure, his mighty beard, + the deep thunder of his tones? I showed you the brave soldier in 1861 and + ‘62. In 1863 his beard was heavier, his voice more like thunder—when + the giant walked along he seemed to shake the ground. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to move in half an hour, Hagan,” said Stuart, still writing + busily. “Head-quarters will be established on Fleetwood Hill, beyond + Brandy; my horse!” + </p> + <p> + Hagan saluted and vanished without uttering a word. In five minutes the + camp was buzzing, and “Lady Margaret” was led up. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Surry! Come on, Davenant! I will beat you to the Court-House!” + </p> + <p> + And Stuart buckled on his sword, drew on his gauntlets, and mounted his + horse. I was beside him. Not to be ready when Stuart was—was to be + left behind. He waited for nobody. His staff soon learned that. + </p> + <p> + As Davenant’s horse was awaiting him, he was as prompt as Stuart desired. + In a minute we were all three riding at full speed toward the village. + Stuart was playing with his glove, which he had taken off and dangled to + and fro. His brows were knit, and he was reflecting. We did not interrupt + him, and in ten minutes we were all clattering over the main street of the + hamlet. + </p> + <p> + Stuart pushed on by the tavern, without pausing, in the direction of + Fleetwood, when just as he reached the eastern suburbs of the town a small + one-horse wagon, leaving the place, attracted his attention. There was + just sufficient light to make out the figures in the wagon. There were + two. One was a portly and plainly clad old countryman, with a prominent + nose, a double chin, and fat hands decorated with pinchbeck rings. Beside + him sat an old woman, as fat as himself, wearing a faded calico gown, a + “coal-scuttle” bonnet, and a huge ruffled cap beneath. + </p> + <p> + Stuart looked keenly at the wagon, called to the driver to halt, and + demanded whither he was going, and on what business. The old countryman + smiled. The question seemed to strike him as absurd, and his explanation + was simple and calculated to remove all suspicion. He stated that his name + was Brown—that he lived near the village; had brought in a load of + vegetables to sell, on the preceding evening—some friends had + persuaded him and “his old woman” to spend the night, and they were now + going home. + </p> + <p> + Stuart peered under the coal-scuttle bonnet. + </p> + <p> + “And this is your ‘old woman’ my friend,” he said with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Jest so, sir,” was the wheezy reply of the fat old countryman, smiling + sweetly. “You see she would come along, sir. Womankind is mighty + contrary!” + </p> + <p> + “A profound sentiment!” laughed Stuart, and riding on without further + words, he left the countryman free to proceed on his way. + </p> + <p> + We crossed a little stream, rode on toward Fleetwood, and had nearly + reached Brandy when Stuart suddenly reined in his horse. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what I think,” he said, “that I have done a foolish thing?” + </p> + <p> + “What, general?” + </p> + <p> + “To let that old fellow go on. I don’t like his looks.” + </p> + <p> + “The old countryman?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I wish I had arrested him—him and his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Arrested them?” + </p> + <p> + Stuart nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I have an instinct about rascals, Surry; and something tells me that I + have been guilty of an imprudence.” + </p> + <p> + “Was not his explanation satisfactory?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What could be wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything.” + </p> + <p> + “And his ‘old woman,’” I said, laughing; “think of that highly respectable + dame.” + </p> + <p> + “I like her least of all!” + </p> + <p> + “From instinct?” + </p> + <p> + “If you choose.” + </p> + <p> + “I think your instinct misleads you this time, general.” + </p> + <p> + “I think not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we will see.” + </p> + <p> + And we did see. + </p> + <p> + In two hours the head-quarters tents were pitched upon Fleetwood Hill + beyond Brandy, and Stuart sent his provost marshal to Culpeper + Court-House, with orders to conduct the prisoner taken by Mohun on the + preceding night, to General Lee, for examination. + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward the worthy provost returned in hot haste with the + astounding information that the fair lady was nowhere to be found. She had + disappeared from her chamber, none knew how, before daylight, and as a + notoriously suspected individual who had lately been hanging round the + tavern had disappeared too, it was probable that they had gone off + together. Upon this point, a note left by the lady directed to “General + Stuart” would probably give information. This had been found upon her + table. And the provost wound up by handing the note to Stuart. + </p> + <p> + He read it with an air of decided ill-humor. Then throwing it upon his + desk, burst into a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Surry,” he said, “who is right and who is wrong, now? Read that!” + </p> + <p> + And he pointed to the note, which I opened and read. It was in a delicate + female hand, and ran as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “General Stuart will pardon the attempt his captive is about to make, to + effect her escape. He made himself quite charming in their brief + interview, but liberty is sweet. Finding a friend unexpectedly in this + quarter of the world, I have made every arrangement with him; he is a + great master of disguises, and, though the travelling costume which I + shall adopt will make me look hideous, I hope it will enable me, before + sunrise, to pass a private ford, known to my friend alone, and reach the + opposite bank of the Rappahannock. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell, my dear general. If all the rebels were like yourself, I might + change my politics. I have but one other friend in your army—Colonel + Mohun, of the cavalry. Present my regards to him, and say that <i>we will + meet again</i>.” + </p> + <p> + That was all. I raised my eyes from the paper, and looked at the general + with stupefaction. + </p> + <p> + “Then that ‘old woman’ was the lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely.” + </p> + <p> + “And we are fooled?” + </p> + <p> + “Completely. They are by this time on the other side of the Rappahannock.” + </p> + <p> + With these words, Stuart dismissed the whole subject, turned to his desk, + and in a moment was busy at his official writing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. — THE BALL BEFORE THE BATTLE. + </h2> + <p> + On the same evening I was riding with Stuart toward Culpeper Court-House. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where we are going, Surry?” he said, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I can guess, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Try.” + </p> + <p> + “To the ball given by the young officers to the Charlottesville belles + tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong, old fellow. I don’t dare to go there.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t dare?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is the word,” he replied; “I am not afraid of the Yankees, but + I am of gossips—above all, of the valorous correspondents of the + newspapers.” + </p> + <p> + “I begin to understand now.” + </p> + <p> + “They are dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart cantered on, playing with his glove as usual. “Think of Messieurs + the bomb-proof critics!” he laughed. “They already say I reviewed the + cavalry with a wreath of flowers around my horse’s neck.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “They say so everywhere; and I will tell you the foundation for the + charge. In passing through the Court-House on the morning of the review, a + young lady friend of mine ran out from her house and threw a wreath over + the neck of my horse. Well, I think it is something to be courteous in + this world. I did not throw it off. I thanked her, rode on, and only + removed it when I got out of sight. Meeting General Lee, I told him of it, + laughing, and he said, with a smile: ‘Why did you not wear it?’ {1} I might + as well have done so, Surry, for you see I have the credit of it. Why try + to be temperate, and pure, and soldierly? I am a drunkard, a libertine, + and a popinjay! But I care nothing. I intend to do my duty, old fellow, + and the next few days will probably show if I can fight.” + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Fact.} + </p> + <p> + With which words Stuart broke into a song, cantered on more rapidly, and + passing without drawing rein through the Court-House, soon reached General + Lee’s head-quarters on an eminence beyond. + </p> + <p> + Here he remained for an hour, in private interview with the + commander-in-chief. Finally, they came out together. General Lee in his + plain uniform, with that sedate dignity of bearing which made the gray old + cavalier so superb. I had the honor to receive his salute, and to press + his hand, and then I set out with General Stuart for Fleetwood. + </p> + <p> + In passing through the Court-House we observed the windows of a large + building all ablaze with lights, and heard the merry notes of music. + Stuart drew rein. + </p> + <p> + “I think I will drop in for a few minutes, in spite of every thing!” he + said. “See the end of all my excellent resolutions, Surry!” + </p> + <p> + And rapidly dismounting, Stuart entered the ball-room. I followed. + </p> + <p> + If the review was imposing, the ball was charming. Youths and maidens had + assembled promptly at the sound of music, and, if I were a poet or a + penny-a-liner, my dear reader, I would compose a fine description of the + merry spectacle. But alas! I am neither; and feel unequal to the “ornate” + style of writing. I am only a battered old <i>militaire</i>, with a number + of great events to speak of. Look in the newspapers of that period for an + account of the assembly. + </p> + <p> + Let me say, however, in passing, that there was something sad as well as + joyful, gloomy as well as brilliant, in all that echoing laughter, and the + movements of these gay figures, on the eve of the bloody battle of + Fleetwood. Girls were smiling upon youths who in twelve hours would be + dead. Lips were shaping gallant compliments—soon they were going to + utter the death-groan. All went merry as a marriage-bell, and they danced + to the joyous music. Soon the cannon would begin to roll, and the youths + would charge to that stormy music as they danced to this. + </p> + <p> + I was gazing at the lively assemblage—at the undulating forms moving + to and fro, the gay uniforms, the fluttering scarfs, the snowy arms, the + rosy cheeks, when my attention was attracted by a figure which made me + lose sight of all else. + </p> + <p> + It was that of a young girl about twenty, tall, stately, and beautiful. + Her dark hair was carried back in glossy waves, and ended in profuse + curls. Her cheeks resembled blush roses; the eyes were large, brilliant, + and full of laughing hauteur; the lips red, and wreathed into a dazzling + smile, which was the perfection of satirical mirth. + </p> + <p> + I grow extravagant; but this young girl was superb. There was something + queen like and imposing in her movements and whole appearance. She seemed + to look down on the crowd with satirical disdain, and the gay youths who + surrounded her were every instant struck by the bright shafts of a wit + which spared nothing. + </p> + <p> + Who was this dangerous beauty, who received the attentions of the young + officers with so much careless disdain? I asked that question of a friend + and he replied: + </p> + <p> + “Miss Georgia Conway, a daughter of Judge William Conway.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” I said, “the statesman?—the successor of Randolph in bitter + oratory?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and yonder he is.” + </p> + <p> + I looked in the direction indicated, and saw an elderly gentleman of small + stature, with long gray hair, and lips full of benignant smiles. He wore a + suit of black, and there was something courtly and attractive in every + movement of the slender figure. His low bow and sweet smile were the + perfection of old-time courtesy. + </p> + <p> + I was still looking at this gentleman, whose fame had extended throughout + Virginia and the whole South, when a familiar voice near me, attracted my + attention. It was that of Captain Davenant, the young officer of the horse + artillery, and glancing in the direction of the voice I saw him bending + over a young lady who was seated and conversing with him. She was a girl + of seventeen, with blue eyes, auburn hair, and a complexion as fair as a + lily. As Davenant addressed her in low tones, she gazed up into his face + with an expression of confiding affection. In the eyes of the young + officer I could read a profound and ardent love. + </p> + <p> + Turning to my friend I inquired the name of the young lady, in turn. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Virginia Conway,” he replied, “the only sister of Miss Georgia.” + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely uttered the words, when Davenant’s interview with the + young lady terminated in a very singular manner. Suddenly Judge Conway + passed through the crowd, reached the spot where the young people were + conversing, and darting a glance of positive fury at the youth—a + glance which made his eyes resemble coals of fire—offered his arm to + his daughter, and abruptly bore her away. + </p> + <p> + Davenant’s face flushed crimson, and his eyes darted flame. He took a step + as though about to follow—but all at once he stopped. + </p> + <p> + Then from red his face became pale. The old expression of sadness returned + to his lips. With head bent down, and a faint color stealing over his + cheeks, he went toward the door, and passed though it, and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Before I had time to reflect upon this singular incident, I heard the + voice of Stuart. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Surry! to horse! unless you wish to remain!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Ready, general!” I replied. + </p> + <p> + And in five minutes we were galloping toward Fleetwood. + </p> + <p> + “A gay ball,” said Stuart, as we rode along; “but do you remember <i>my + instinct</i>, Surry?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, general. Has it told you something on the present occasion?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “You have heard of the famous ball at Brussells, broken up by the guns of + Waterloo?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think that this one will prove similar—that cannon are + going to thunder before the music stops.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart had scarcely spoken when rapid hoof-strokes were heard in front, + and a horseman shot by. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen General Stuart?” said a voice in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am—what news, Stringfellow?” + </p> + <p> + The horseman drew rein so suddenly that his horse was thrown upon his + haunches. “You will be attacked at daylight, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,—what force?” + </p> + <p> + “The whole Yankee cavalry, with infantry and artillery supports.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; ride back with me, and tell me every thing, Stringfellow.” + </p> + <p> + In half an hour we were at head-quarters. Stuart dismounted and entered + his tent. + </p> + <p> + “You see I was right, Surry,” he said turning toward me, “and there is + something in my <i>instinct</i> after all!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. — FLEETWOOD. + </h2> + <p> + At daylight a long thunder came up from the woods of the Rappahannock. The + greatest cavalry combat of the war had begun. + </p> + <p> + At that sound Stuart leaped to the saddle, and rode rapidly toward the + front. Fifteen minutes afterward his head-quarters had vanished. On the + green slope of Fleetwood not a tent was visible. + </p> + <p> + Is the reader familiar with the country along the Upper Rappahannock? If + so, he will remember that the river is crossed in Culpeper by numerous + fords. The principal—beginning on the left, that is to say, up the + river—are Welford’s, Beverly’s, the Railroad bridge, and Kelly’s + fords. + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s left, under William H.F. Lee, was opposite Welford’s; his centre, + under Jones, opposite Beverly’s; his right, under Hampton, toward Kelly’s; + and a force under Robertson was posted in the direction of Stevensburg, to + guard the right flank. The whole amounted to about seven or eight thousand + cavalry. + </p> + <p> + The Federal column which now advanced to attack it, is said to have + embraced all the cavalry of General Hooker’s army; and must have numbered + more than twelve thousand sabres. + </p> + <p> + Stuart rode on rapidly down Fleetwood Hill, and was soon opposite + Beverly’s Ford where the enemy had crossed in force. General Jones was + heavily engaged, and the Napoleons of the horse artillery were roaring + steadily. Every moment the round shot crashed, or the shell tore through + the woods about three hundred yards in front of the pieces where the + dismounted cavalry of the enemy had effected a lodgment. They kept up a + hot fire at the cannoneers, and the steady rattle of carbines further up + the river told that Lee was also engaged. + </p> + <p> + In face of the bursting shell, the blue <i>tirailleurs</i> could not + advance; and Stuart sent an order to Hampton to move in and attack on the + right. + </p> + <p> + The troopers of the Gulf States advanced at the word; their dense column + was seen slowly moving, with drawn sabre, across the plain; the moment of + decisive struggle seemed rapidly approaching, when suddenly a heavy blow + was struck at Stuart’s rear. + </p> + <p> + I had been directed by him to ascertain if “every thing had been sent off + from Fleetwood,” and to see that no papers had been dropped there in the + hurry of departure. Going back at a gallop I soon reached the hill, and + rode over the ground recently occupied by the head-quarters. The spot + seemed swept. Not a paper was visible. All that I could see was a withered + bouquet dropped by some young officer of the staff—a relic, no + doubt, of the last night’s ball at the village. + </p> + <p> + I had already turned to ride back to Stuart, when my attention was + attracted by a column of cavalry advancing straight on Brandy—that + is, upon Stuart’s rear. What force was that? Could it be the enemy? It was + coming from the direction of Stevensburg; but how could it have passed our + force there? + </p> + <p> + “Look!” I said to an officer of the horse artillery, one battery of which + was left in reserve on the hill, “look! what column is that?” + </p> + <p> + “It must be Wickham’s,” was his reply. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure they are Yankees!” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + But our doubts were soon terminated. From the rapidly advancing column two + guns shot out and unlimbered. Then two white puffs of smoke spouted from + their muzzles, and the enemy’s shell burst directly in our faces. + </p> + <p> + The horse artillery returned the fire, and I hastened back with the + intelligence to Stuart. + </p> + <p> + “It is only a squadron, I suppose,” he replied with great coolness. “Go + back and get all the cavalry you can, and charge the guns and bag + them!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote: His words} + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to imagine any thing calmer than the speaker’s voice. I + knew, however, that the attack was more critical than he supposed; + hastened back; came up with two regiments; and they ascended the hill at + full gallop, leaping the ravines, and darting toward the crest. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly it blazed with staggering volleys. The Federal cavalry had rushed + straight across the fields toward the hill—ascended its western + slope as we ascended the eastern, and met us—coming on, in squadron + front, they struck the Confederates advancing in column of fours, and in + confusion from the rough ground—they recoiled—were thrown into + disorder; and with loud cheers the enemy swarmed all over Fleetwood Hill. + </p> + <p> + The battle seemed lost. Stuart was cut off, and hemmed in between two + powerful bodies of Federal cavalry, supported by infantry and artillery. + </p> + <p> + All that saved us at that moment, was the “do or die” fighting of the + cavalry and horse artillery. + </p> + <p> + On the crest of Fleetwood took place a bitter and obstinate struggle. It + was one of those fights of the giants, which once witnessed is never + forgotten. The cannoneers of the horse artillery fought as savagely, hand + to hand, as the regular cavalry; and the crest became the scene of a mad + wrestle, rather of wild beasts than men. + </p> + <p> + All at once the form of Davenant appeared amid the smoke. He had come + rapidly from the front, and now threw himself into the combat like the + bloodhound to which Stuart had compared him. His sad smile had + disappeared; his cheeks were flushed; his eyes fiery;—leaping from + his horse, he seized the sponge-staff of a gun, from which all the + cannoneers had been driven, and ramming home a charge of canister, + directed the gun upon a column of the enemy. + </p> + <p> + Before he could fire, a Federal cavalryman rode at him, and cut furiously + at his bare head, with the full weight of his sabre. + </p> + <p> + Davenant did not try to draw his sword—the attempt would have been + useless. In his hand he had a weapon; and with a swing of the rammer he + swept the cavalryman from the saddle.{1} He fell headlong, covered with + blood; and Davenant aimed and fired the charge of canister—leaped + upon his horse—and drawing his sword, plunged into the melee, his + head bare, his eyes flaming, his voice rising loud and inspiring, above + the combat. + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Fact.} + </p> + <p> + It was a stubborn, a superb struggle. Three times the enemy’s guns were + charged and captured; three times the Confederates were furiously charged + in turn, and the pieces recaptured by the enemy.{1} A final charge of the + gray cavalry carried all before it. The Federal artillery was seized upon, + and their cavalry driven back—but at that moment a heavier force + still was seen advancing upon Stuart from the direction of Kelly’s ford. + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Fact.} + </p> + <p> + It was a splendid spectacle. They came on in solid column, and rapidly + formed line of battle on the slope of Fleetwood, with drawn sabres, and + flags floating. As they moved they seemed to shake the very ground. I had + never before seen so great a force of cavalry drawn up—and the + critical moment of the battle had plainly come. + </p> + <p> + At that instant the great field presented a remarkable appearance. Cavalry + were charging in every direction, and it was hard to tell friend from foe. + Stuart was fighting, so to say, from the centre outwards. The enemy were + in his front, in his rear, and on both his flanks. If they closed in, + apparently, he would be crushed as in a vice. The iron hand would strangle + him. + </p> + <p> + That moment tested the nerves. Stuart’s “heart of oak” bore the strain. He + was aroused, stung, his cheeks burned, his eyes flamed—but the man + was sufficient for the work. I looked closely at him. “Do or die” was + plain on his face. From that instant I never had any doubts about Stuart. + </p> + <p> + He rushed two pieces of artillery to a knoll in front of the line of + Federal horsemen. A moment afterward two reports were heard, and two shell + burst precisely in the middle of the line, making a wide gap in it, and + checking the charge which had begun.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Fact.} + </p> + <p> + All at once I saw a column of cavalry coming up from the river, and + turning to Stuart, said:— + </p> + <p> + “General, what cavalry is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Hampton’s!” Stuart exclaimed. “Bring it up like lightning!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + I set out at full gallop, and soon reached the column. At the head of it + rode Young, the <i>beau sabreur</i> of Georgia, erect, gallant, with his + brave eye and smile. + </p> + <p> + I pointed out the enemy and gave the order. + </p> + <p> + “All right!” exclaimed Young, and, turning to his men, he whirled his + sabre around his head and shouted, + </p> + <p> + “Forward!” + </p> + <p> + The column thundered on, and as it passed I recognized Mohun, his flashing + eye and burnished sabre gleaming from the dust-cloud. + </p> + <p> + In five minutes they were in front of the enemy—the men wheeled and + faced the Federal line. + </p> + <p> + “Charge!” rose from a hundred lips. Spurs were buried in the hot flanks; + the mass was hurled at the enemy; and clashing like thunder, sword against + sword, swept every thing before it. Not a single shot was fired—the + sabre only was used. The enemy were broken to pieces—what I saw was + a wild mêlée of whirling swords, flying horses, men cloven to the chin, + while others were seen throwing themselves from the saddle, and raising + their hands to escape the keen swordsmen slashing at them.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Fact.} + </p> + <p> + The great force of the enemy sweeping down on Stuart’s flank was thus + routed. The spectacle which followed was ludicrous as well as exciting. + The enemy fled in disorder. Never before had I seen the nails in the hind + shoes of hundreds of horses—myriads of horses’ tails streaming like + meteors as they ran! + </p> + <p> + The force disappeared in the woods, hotly pursued by their foes. The dust + followed them in a great cloud—from that cloud arose yells and + cheers—cannon thundered; carbines rattled;—but that sound + receded more and more rapidly toward the river. + </p> + <p> + On our left the brave William H.F. Lee had been as successful. He had + charged and repulsed the enemy, falling wounded at the head of his men. + They had not again advanced upon him. Near the Barbour House he presented + an unbroken front to them. + </p> + <p> + Stuart held with his cavalry, indeed, the whole Fleetwood range. The long + thunder of his artillery said to the enemy, + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” + </p> + <p> + They did not come. They went back. Their cavalry had crossed the river to + ascertain the meaning of the great review. They had discovered nothing, + after heavy loss. The ground was strewed with their dead and dying—they + retired, shattered and bleeding. + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s loss was also great—even his staff was not spared. One of + my brother staff officers was killed, another wounded, a third captured. + </p> + <p> + But Stuart had won the greatest cavalry fight of the war. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. — MOHUN FAINTS AT THE RIGHT MOMENT. + </h2> + <p> + In a room of the “Barbour House” on Fleetwood Hill, Stuart was writing a + dispatch to General Lee. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly sunset, and the red light was streaming through the windows. + On the floor lay a number of wounded men, groaning piteously. Busily + attending to their wants were two young girls—the daughters of Judge + Conway, whom I had seen on the night of the ball. + </p> + <p> + The young ladies, I afterward discovered, had been on a visit to the + family occupying the Barbour House; had courageously remained during the + whole of the battle—and they were now busily attending to the wants + of the wounded. + </p> + <p> + I was gazing at the eldest—the superb beauty with the disdainful + eyes, who had held that wit-combat with her circle of admirers—when + Stuart finished his dispatches, and turned around. + </p> + <p> + “Any reports?” he said briefly to a member of his staff. + </p> + <p> + “None, general—except that Colonel Mohun is reported killed.” + </p> + <p> + “Mohun! It is impossible! He drove the enemy, and was unhurt. I would not + swap him for a hundred, nor a thousand of the enemy!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, general!” said a sonorous voice behind us. + </p> + <p> + And Mohun entered, making the military salute as he did so. + </p> + <p> + In his bearing I could discern the same cool pride, mingled with satire. + There was only one change in him. He was paler than ever, and I could see + that his right shoulder was bloody. + </p> + <p> + As he entered, Miss Georgia Conway, who was bending over a wounded + soldier, raised her head and looked at him. Mohun’s eye met her own, and + he bowed ceremoniously, taking no further notice of her. + </p> + <p> + At this exhibition of careless indifference I could see Miss Conway’s face + flush. An expression of freezing hauteur came to the beautiful lips; and + the disdainful glance indicated that her <i>amour propre</i> was deeply + wounded. + </p> + <p> + She turned her back upon him abruptly—but as Mohun had already + turned his, the movement failed in its object. The officer was looking at + Stuart, who had grasped his hand. He winced as the general pressed it, and + turned paler, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are not dead, Mohun!” exclaimed Stuart, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least, general, I am happy to inform you,” replied Mohun. + </p> + <p> + “I am truly glad to hear it! What news?” + </p> + <p> + “Our party is all over. We followed them up until they recrossed the river—and + I owed them this little piece of politeness for I recognized an old + acquaintance in the commander of the squadron.” + </p> + <p> + “An acquaintance?” + </p> + <p> + “A certain Colonel Darke—a charming person, general.” And Mohun + laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I recognized him yonder when we charged on the hill, and, at first, he + followed his men when they broke. As I got close to him, however, in the + woods, he recognized me in turn, and we crossed swords. He is brave—no + man braver; and he did his utmost to put an end to me. I had somewhat + similar views myself in reference to my friend, the colonel, but his men + interposed and prevented my carrying them out. They were all around me, + slashing away. I was nearly cut out of the saddle—I was carried away + from my friend in the mêlée—and the unkindest cut of all was his + parting compliment as he retreated through the river.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that, Mohun?” + </p> + <p> + “A bullet from his pistol, which grazed my shoulder. A mere scratch, but + provoking. I saw him grin as he fired.” + </p> + <p> + “An old friend on the Yankee side? Well, that happens,” said Stuart— + </p> + <p> + “Frequently, general,” said Mohun; “and this one was <i>very</i> dear, + indeed—most tenderly attached to me, I assure you. My affection for + him is of the same endearing nature: and we only crossed sabres in jest—a + mere fencing bout for amusement. We would not hurt each other for worlds!” + </p> + <p> + And Mohun’s mustache curled with laughter. There was something restless + and sinister in it. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly his face grew paler, and his eyes were half closed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mohun,” said Stuart, who was not looking at him; “I am going to + send you across the river on a reconnaissance to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, general.” + </p> + <p> + And the officer made the military salute. As he did so, he staggered, and + Stuart raised his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are wounded!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “A trifle,” laughed Mohun. + </p> + <p> + But as he spoke, his frame tottered; his face assumed the hue of a corpse; + and he would have fallen, had not Miss Georgia Conway started up + unconsciously from the wounded man whom she was attending to, and + supported the officer in her arms. + </p> + <p> + Mohun opened his eyes, and a grim smile came to his pale face. + </p> + <p> + “A pretty tableau!” I heard him murmur; “it would do to put in a romance. + A cup of tea—or a pistol—that would finish—” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered these singular words, the blood gushed from his wounded + shoulder, his eyes closed, and, his head falling on the bosom of the young + girl, he fainted. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. — THE SLIM ANIMAL. + </h2> + <p> + Fleetwood was the first gun of the great campaign which culminated on the + heights of Gettysburg. A week afterward, Lee’s columns were in motion + toward Pennsylvania. + </p> + <p> + Was that invasion the dictate of his own judgment? History will answer. + What is certain is, that the country, like the army, shouted “Forward!” + The people were ablaze with wild enthusiasm; the soldiers flushed with the + pride of their great victories of Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville. The + authorities at Richmond shared the excitement, and the commissary-general, + with unwonted humor, or in sober earnest, indorsed, it is said, upon a + requisition for supplies: “If General Lee wishes rations, let him seek + them in Pennsylvania.” + </p> + <p> + I doubt if the great commander shared the general agitation. I think he + aimed to draw Hooker out of Virginia, leaving the rest to Providence. So + he moved toward the Potomac. + </p> + <p> + The world had called Lee cautious. After this invasion, that charge was + not repeated. From first to last audacity seemed the sentiment inspiring + him. + </p> + <p> + With Hooker on the Rappahannock, threatening Richmond, Lee thrust his + advance force under Ewell through the Blue Ridge toward Maryland; pushed + Longstreet up to Culpeper to support him, and kept only A.P. Hill at + Fredericksburg to bar the road to the Confederate capital. + </p> + <p> + Hooker wished to advance upon it, but President Lincoln forbade him. The + dispatch was a queer official document. + </p> + <p> + “In case you find Lee coming to the north of the Rappahannock,” Lincoln + wrote, “I would by no means cross to the south of it. I would not take any + risk of being entangled upon the river, <i>like an ox jumped half over a + fence, and liable to be torn by dogs, front and rear, without a fair + chance to gore one way or kick the other.</i>” + </p> + <p> + Ludicrous perhaps, but to the point; the “Rail-Splitter” was not always + dignified, but often judicious. Chancellorsville had been defeat—Lee’s + assault, foreboded thus by Lincoln, would be death. + </p> + <p> + Hooker fell back, therefore, in the direction of Washington. Lee had + foreseen that fact, and had given himself small anxiety. His three corps + were already in full motion toward the Potomac; and suddenly the thunder + of artillery came on the winds of the mountains. + </p> + <p> + Ewell, the head of the Southern spear, was driving at Milroy, holding + Winchester. The struggle was brief. General Milroy had put the iron heel + on the poor valley; had oppressed the unfortunate people beyond the power + of words—and suddenly the hand of Fate clutched and shook him to + death. Ewell stormed his “Star Fort” near Winchester, with the bayonet; + drove him to headlong flight; got in rear of him, capturing nearly all his + command; and poor Milroy scarce managed to escape, with a small + body-guard, beyond the Potomac. + </p> + <p> + “In my opinion Milroy’s men will fight better <i>under a soldier!</i>” + </p> + <p> + It was his commanding officer, Hooker, who wrote those words a few days + afterward. From the hands of his own general came that unkindest cut! + </p> + <p> + Exit Milroy, thus amid hisses and laughter—the hornet’s nest at + Winchester was swept away—and Ewell headed straight for + Pennsylvania. + </p> + <p> + Longstreet came up rapidly to fill the gap in the line—Hill followed + Longstreet—and then the world beheld the singular spectacle of an + army extended in a long skirmish line over a hundred miles, with another + army massed not daring to assail it. + </p> + <p> + Hooker did not see his “opening;” but Lincoln did. One of his dispatches + has been quoted—here is another as amusing and as judicious. + </p> + <p> + “If the head of Lee’s army is at Martinsburg,” Lincoln wrote Hooker, “and + the tail of it on the Plank road, between Fredericksburg and + Chancellorsville, <i>the animal must be very slim somewhere—could + you not break him?</i>” + </p> + <p> + But Hooker could not. He did not even try. Lee’s movements seemed to + paralyze him—his chief of staff wrote:— + </p> + <p> + “We cannot go boggling round, until we know what we are going after.” + </p> + <p> + “Boggling round” exactly described the movements of Hooker. He was still + in a grand fog, and knew nothing of his adversary’s intent, when a + terrific cry arose among the well-to-do farmers of Pennsylvania. The wolf + had appeared in the fold. Ewell was rapidly advancing upon Harrisburg. + </p> + <p> + Behind came the veteran corps of Hill and Longstreet. The gorges of the + Blue Ridge were alive with bristling bayonets. Then the waters of the + Potomac splashed around the waists of the infantry and the wheels of the + artillery carriages. Soon the fields of Maryland and Pennsylvania were + alive with “rebels,” come, doubtless, to avenge the outrages of Pope and + Milroy. Throughout those commonwealths—through Philadelphia, New + York, and Boston—rang the cry, “Lee is coming!” + </p> + <p> + To return to the cavalry. The horsemen of Stuart were going to move in an + eccentric orbit. These are my <i>memoirs</i>, reader, not a history of the + war; I describe only what I saw, and am going to ask you now, to “follow + the feather” of Stuart. + </p> + <p> + Stuart was promptly in the saddle, and when Lee began to move, advanced + north of the Rappahannock, drawing a cordon of cavalry across the roads + above Middleburg, to guard the approaches to the mountain. + </p> + <p> + The result was that the infantry defiled through the Blue Ridge without + Hooker’s knowledge. He knew that something was going on, but there his + information terminated. The troopers of Stuart kept watch over fifteen + miles of front, and through this wall of sabres the Federal eye could not + pierce. + </p> + <p> + Stuart is regarded by many as only a brave “raider.” It was on occasions + like this, however, that he performed his greatest services. Everywhere he + confronted the enemy in stubborn battle; and the work was hard. It was + fighting, fighting, fighting—now, as in 1862, when he covered Lee’s + retreat after Sharpsburg. Day and night the cavalry had no rest. The crack + of carbines, the clash of sabres, and the roar of cannon were incessant. + It was a war of giants which Fauquier and Loudoun saw in those days—and + not until the rear of Lee’s column had nearly reached the Potomac, did + General Hooker by a desperate effort succeed in driving Stuart back. + </p> + <p> + In these pages I must leave that obstinate struggle undescribed. It was + full of romantic scenes, and illustrated by daring courage: but all is + lost to view in the lurid smoke of Gettysburg. + </p> + <p> + With one scene in the hurrying drama I shall pass to greater events. + </p> + <p> + But first, I beg to introduce to the reader a very singular personage, who + is destined to play an important part in the history I am writing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. — NIGHTHAWK. + </h2> + <p> + It was the night of the 20th of June, 1863. Stuart’s head-quarters had + been established in a house on the roadside above Middleburg. + </p> + <p> + We had been fighting all day; had returned only at nightfall: and I was + exchanging a few words with Stuart, before following the staff to rest, + when all at once a third personage, who seemed to have arisen from the + floor, stood before us. + </p> + <p> + His presence was so sudden and unexpected that I started. Then I looked at + him, curiously. + </p> + <p> + He was a man of about forty, thin, wiry, and with a nose resembling the + beak of a bird of prey. His eyes, half buried under bushy eyebrows, + twinkled like two stars. His mouth was large and smiling; his expression + exceedingly benignant. From the face I passed to the costume. The worthy + was clad in severe black, with a clerical white cravat: wore a black + beaver hat of the “stove-pipe” order; and presented the appearance of a + pious and peaceable civilian—almost that of a clergyman, smiling + benignantly upon all around him. + </p> + <p> + Stuart uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Nighthawk, here you are!” he said. + </p> + <p> + And turning to me he introduced the new comer as “Mr. Nighthawk, one of my + ‘private friends,’ and true as steel.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nighthawk bowed with an air of smiling respect—of benignant + sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to know you, colonel, and hope I may have an opportunity of + being of service to you some day,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The voice was low, soft, and accorded with the mild expression of the + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what news, Nighthawk?” asked Stuart; “experience tells me that you + have something of importance to communicate?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, general!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You pass in the cavalry by the name of the ‘man before the battle,’ + for you always turn up then.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nighthawk smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I try to give you information, general; and perhaps I have some news. But + first of my visits to Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Washington, + where I saw many of our friends.” + </p> + <p> + And in his low, quiet voice Mr. Nighthawk, who had taken a seat and + smoothed down his white cravat, proceeded to speak of his travels and what + he had seen. + </p> + <p> + The narrative astounded me. He spoke without reserve, for General Stuart + had informed him that he might do so before me; and I was startled to find + the number of private friends the South had in the North. Mr. Nighthawk + was evidently <i>au fait</i> at his trade. He had a perfect understanding + plainly with persons of the highest political position; and Stuart + listened with the greatest interest to the speaker, whose low voice never + rose above the half-whisper by which I had been impressed on his first + opening his lips. + </p> + <p> + “So the summing up of all this,” said Stuart, “that our friends are not + too hopeful?” + </p> + <p> + “They are not, general.” + </p> + <p> + “They say Lee must win a great victory on the soil of Pennsylvania?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general. Without it there is no hope of peace, they declare.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think they are right; and that we shall gain the victory.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nighthawk made no reply; and Stuart reflected for some moments without + speaking. Then rousing himself:— + </p> + <p> + “I forgot,” he said. “You have not given me your special information, + Nighthawk.” + </p> + <p> + The worthy smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You know I am the ‘man before the battle,’ general?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, go on, Nighthawk.” + </p> + <p> + “I have just left General Hooker’s head-quarters.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” + </p> + <p> + “Beyond Centreville.” + </p> + <p> + “You saw him?” + </p> + <p> + “I conversed with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “An hour, general, as the Rev. Mr. Ward, from Massachusett, of the ‘Grand + Union Sanitary Commission’.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Nighthawk smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I urged active movements, and General Hooker became quite + animated.” + </p> + <p> + “He agreed with your views then?” said Stuart, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, general.” + </p> + <p> + “And he intends—” + </p> + <p> + “There is the important thing. While we were conversing, General Hooker + was called for a moment out of his tent, and by accident, my eyes fell + upon an order which lay upon his desk.” + </p> + <p> + “An order?” + </p> + <p> + “For two divisions of cavalry, one of infantry, and a full complement of + artillery, to advance and drive you back to the mountain.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you saw that order?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, general; it was just ready to be sent.” + </p> + <p> + “What day did it fix?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, indeed! Two divisions of infantry and one of cavalry?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nighthawk inclined in assent. + </p> + <p> + “When did you leave Hooker’s head-quarters?” + </p> + <p> + “This afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “And you came through the lines to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general, in the usual way, by passing through the pickets. I was on + foot and nothing was easier.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart knit his brows and reflected. Then he called to the orderly. + </p> + <p> + “Wake the adjutant-general, and have three couriers ready at once!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nighthawk arose. + </p> + <p> + “By-the-by, general,” he said, “I saw Swartz, whom I have mentioned to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; the best spy, you say, in the Federal army.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he is, general. He is a wonderful man. He recently played a trick + upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon <i>me</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “At least he bore off a prisoner from you. It was a lady, captured by + Colonel Mohun, one night on the Rappahannock.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Is it possible! So Swartz was the old countryman, driving the wagon + that morning.” + </p> + <p> + “So he informed me, general.” + </p> + <p> + “You are friends, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Close friends.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Nighthawk smiled. + </p> + <p> + “We have an agreement—but that would not interest you, general. That + was really Swartz, and the old woman was the prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Stuart, “that was a bold stroke, but the lady was handsome + enough to make friends. There is something between herself and Colonel + Mohun, is there not?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nighthawk glanced quickly at the face of the general. His eyes + resembled steel points, but the piercing glance at once sank. + </p> + <p> + “Something between them, general? What could have made you think that? But + here is Major McClellan. I will not detain you, general; I will come back + at daylight to receive your orders.” + </p> + <p> + With these words, Mr. Nighthawk distributed a benignant smile, bowed in a + friendly manner, and disappeared, it was difficult to say how, from the + apartment. I had turned my eyes from him but an instant; when I again + looked he was gone. + </p> + <p> + “And now to work!” exclaimed Stuart. “We are going to fight tomorrow, + Surry, since the ‘man before the battle’ has made his appearance!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. — HOW STUART FELL BACK. + </h2> + <p> + At daybreak, Stuart was going at full gallop to the front. + </p> + <p> + A rapid fire of skirmishers, mingled with the dull roar of cannon, + indicated that Nighthawk had not been deceived. + </p> + <p> + All at once the sharp-shooters were seen falling back from the woods. + </p> + <p> + “Bring me a piece of artillery!” exclaimed Stuart, darting to the front. + </p> + <p> + But the attack of the enemy swept all before it. Stuart was driven back, + and was returning doggedly, when the gun for which he had sent, galloped + up, and unlimbered in the road. + </p> + <p> + It was too late. Suddenly a solid shot screamed above us; the gun was + hurled from its carriage, and rolled shattered and useless in the wood; + the horses were seen rearing wild with terror, and trying to kick out of + the harness. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly one of them leaped into the air and fell, torn in two by a second + round shot. + </p> + <p> + “Quick work!” said Stuart, grimly. + </p> + <p> + And turning round to me, he said, pointing to a hill in rear— + </p> + <p> + “Post three pieces on that hill to rake all the roads.” + </p> + <p> + The order, like the former, came too late, however. The enemy advanced in + overpowering force—drove Stuart back beyond his head-quarters, where + they captured the military satchel of the present writer—and still + rushing forward, like a hurricane, compelled the Confederate cavalry to + retire behind Goose Creek. On the high ground there, Stuart posted his + artillery; opened a rapid fire; and before this storm of shell the Federal + forces paused. + </p> + <p> + The spectacle at that moment was picturesque and imposing. The enemy’s + force was evidently large. Long columns of cavalry, heavy masses of + infantry and artillery at every opening, right, left, and centre, showed + that the task of driving back Stuart was not regarded as very easy. The + sunshine darted from bayonet and sabre all along the great line of battle—and + from the heavy smoke, tinged with flame, came the Federal shell. With + their infantry, cavalry, and artillery, they seemed determined to put an + end to us. Stuart galloped to his guns, pouring a steady fire from the + lofty hill. Captain Davenant directed it in person, and he was evidently + in his right element. All his sadness had disappeared. A cool and resolute + smile lit up his features. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Davenant! Hold your ground!” exclaimed Stuart. + </p> + <p> + “I will do so, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you keep them from crossing?” + </p> + <p> + “I can try, general.” + </p> + <p> + A whirlwind of shell screamed around the two speakers. For the hundredth + time I witnessed that entire indifference to danger which was a trait of + Stuart. The fire at this moment was so terrible that I heard an officer + say:— + </p> + <p> + “General Stuart seems trying to get himself and everybody killed.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing more inspiring, however, can be imagined than his appearance at + that moment. His horse, wild with terror, reared, darted, and attempted to + unseat his rider. Stuart paid no attention to him. He had no eyes or + thought for any thing but the enemy. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes + flamed—he resembled a veritable king of battle. + </p> + <p> + From Stuart my glances passed to Davenant. His coolness impressed me + deeply. While giving an order, a shell burst right in his face, enveloping + horse and rider in a cloud of smoke—but when the smoke drifted away, + he was sitting his horse unmoved, and giving the order as quietly as + before. + </p> + <p> + I have not invented this picture, reader, or fancied this character. I had + the honor to enjoy the friendship of the brave boy I describe. He was + remarkable, in an epoch crowded with remarkable characters. + </p> + <p> + Stuart held his ground for an hour on the high hills of Goose Creek, but + it then became plain that he was going to be driven back. The enemy had + felt him, and discovered that the game was in their own hands. Now they + rushed on his right, left and centre, at the same moment—cavalry, + infantry, and artillery rolling on like a torrent—crossed the + stream, charged the hill—in a moment a bitter and savage combat + commenced for the possession of the crest. + </p> + <p> + Stuart rushed toward the guns. As he reached them a cannon ball carried + off the head of a cannoneer, and his horse reared with fright, nearly + trampling on the headless trunk which spouted blood. Davenant had coolly + drawn his sabre, but had given no order to retire. + </p> + <p> + “Move back the guns!” exclaimed Stuart. + </p> + <p> + “Is it necessary, general?” asked Davenant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they will be captured in five minutes!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a pity we can not remain, general. This is an excellent position.” + </p> + <p> + And he gave the order to limber up. The operation was performed amid a + hurricane of bullets, striking down the cannoneers. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a column of Federal cavalry charged straight at the guns. + Davenant met them with his mounted men, armed with sabres, and a stubborn + combat followed. It was a hilt to hilt affair, and Davenant was in the + midst of it shouting:— + </p> + <p> + “You are fighting for your guns, boys! You promised to die by your guns!” + </p> + <p> + The men answered with fierce shouts, and met the enemy with savage + resolution. Meanwhile, the guns had rushed at a gallop down the western + slope; a regiment came to Davenant’s assistance; the fight grew desperate, + but was of no avail. + </p> + <p> + In fifteen minutes we were driven. + </p> + <p> + Driven! Do you know what that means, reader? Ask old soldiers if it is + pleasant. They will growl in reply! + </p> + <p> + We were forced back, step by step, with the enemy at our very heels. At + our backs came on the huge column, yelling and firing, mad with triumph. + Stuart the valiant, the obstinate, the unshrinking was driven! + </p> + <p> + We were forced back to Upperville, and there things looked stormy. On the + other roads, Stuart’s right and left were rapidly retiring. His centre at + Upperville seemed devoted to destruction. + </p> + <p> + The enemy came on like a whirlwind, with a roaring shout. As far as the + eye could see, the great fields were dark with them. Their horse artillery + advanced at a gallop, unlimbered, and tore the retreating columns with + shot and shell. + </p> + <p> + I was ten yards from Stuart, just at the edge of the town, when a picked + body of Federal horsemen darted straight upon him. + </p> + <p> + They had evidently recognized him by his major-general’s uniform and + splendid feather. Bullets hissed around him; blows were struck at him; and + for an instant I saw him in the midst of a wild huddle of enemies, + defending himself with his revolver only. + </p> + <p> + In an instant he would have been killed or captured, with his staff and + body-guard, when a resounding shout was heard. + </p> + <p> + I glanced over my shoulder, and saw the cavaliers of Hampton coming on + with drawn sabre. + </p> + <p> + Then a splendid spectacle was presented—that of Wade Hampton in one + of his great moments. This stalwart cavalier was leading his men, and in + an instant they had struck the enemy with a noise like thunder. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a cavalier on a black horse rushed by like the wild huntsman, and + I recognized Mohun; who, spurring his animal to headlong speed, drove + straight at the leader of the Federal cavalry, almost in contact with us. + </p> + <p> + Through a rift in the smoke I caught a glimpse of Mohun’s opponent. He was + a man of low stature, but broad, heavy, and powerful. He came to meet his + adversary with the bridle of his horse resting on the animal’s neck, while + both hands clutched a heavy broad-sword, raised over his right shoulder. + </p> + <p> + I could only see that the two opponents hurled together like knights + tilting; their swords gleamed; they closed in, body to body; then the + smoke wrapped them. It was impossible to see more. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. — MOSBY COMES TO STUART’S ASSISTANCE. + </h2> + <p> + Sore and restive at the reverse which had come to balance his victory of + Fleetwood, Stuart bivouacked near Paris, that night, and made every + preparation to attack at dawn. + </p> + <p> + At daylight he was in the saddle, and spurred to the high ground + commanding Upperville. + </p> + <p> + All at once he checked his horse. The enemy had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s blue eye flashed, and half an hour afterward he was advancing at + the head of his cavalry. Not a foe was visible. Pressing on through + Upperville, and over the trampled fields beyond, he continued to advance + upon Middleburg, and near that place came up with the rear of the enemy. + They showed little fight, however, and were driven beyond the place. The + gray troopers pursued them with shouts and cheers—with which were + mingled cries of rejoicing from the people of Middleburg. + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward the lines were re-established in triumph. + </p> + <p> + Stuart returned to his former head-quarters amid a drenching rain; and + this recalls an incident very honorable to the brave soldier. As night + descended, dark and stormy, Stuart gazed gloomily at the torrents of rain + falling. + </p> + <p> + “My poor fellows!” he said, with a sigh, “they will have a hard time + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly turning to his servant, he added:— + </p> + <p> + “Spread my oil-cloth and blankets under that apple tree yonder. I will + keep them dry enough when I once get into them."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “You are not going to sleep out on such a night, general!” exclaimed a + staff officer. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I am,” was his reply, “I don’t intend to fare better than my + men!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + And an hour afterward Stuart was asleep under the apple tree, with a + torrent pouring on him. + </p> + <p> + That was the act of a good officer and soldier, was it not, reader? + </p> + <p> + Before sunrise Stuart was up, and walking uneasily to and fro. As the day + wore on, he exhibited more and more impatience. All at once, at the + appearance of an officer, approaching rapidly from the front, he uttered + an exclamation of pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Here is Mosby at last!” he said. + </p> + <p> + And he went to meet the new-comer. It was the famous chief of partisans + whose name by this time had become a terror to the enemy. He wore a plain + gray uniform, a brace of revolvers in a swaying belt, rode a spirited gray + mare, and I recognized at once the roving glance, and satirical smile + which had struck me on that night when he rescued Farley and myself in + Fauquier. + </p> + <p> + Stuart rapidly drew him into a private apartment; remained in consultation + with him for half an hour; and then came forth, with a smile of evident + satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Mosby’s intelligence must have pleased him. It at least dispelled his + gloom. + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward his head-quarters had disappeared—every thing was + sent toward the mountains. Stuart set out apparently to follow them—but + that was only a ruse to blind busybodies. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of a mile from head-quarters he leaped a fence, and doubled + back, going in the direction now of Manassas. + </p> + <p> + At daylight on the next morning he had forced his way through the Bull Run + mountain. + </p> + <p> + Two hours afterward he had made a sudden attack on the enemy’s infantry. + It was the rear of Hancock’s corps, which was the rear of Hooker’s army, + then retiring toward the Potomac. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. — THE SUPPER NEAR BUCKLANDS. + </h2> + <p> + Stuart’s fight near Haymarket, here alluded to, was a gay affair; but I + pass over it, to a scene still gayer and decidedly more pleasant. + </p> + <p> + The fighting continued throughout the day, and at dusk a heavy rain came + on. We were all tired and hungry—the general no less so than his + staff—and when an invitation was sent to us by a gentleman near + Bucklands, to come and sup with him, we accepted it with fervor, and + hastened toward the friendly mansion. + </p> + <p> + A delightful reception awaited us. The house was full of young ladies, + passionately devoted to “rebels,” and we were greeted with an enthusiasm + which passed all bounds. Delicate hands pressed our own; bright eyes + beamed upon us; rosy lips smiled; musical voices said “welcome!”—and + soon a savory odor, pervading the mansion, indicated that the wants of the + inner man were not forgotten. + </p> + <p> + An excellent supper was plainly in preparation for the bold Stuart and his + military family; and that gay and gallant cavalier, General Fitz Lee + having also been invited, the joy of the occasion was complete! The house + rang with clashing heels, rattling sabres, and clanking spurs. A more + charming sound still, however, was that made by jingling keys and rattling + china, and knives and forks. All was joy and uproar: jests, compliments + and laughter. Young ladies went and came; the odors grew more inviting. In + ten minutes the door of a large apartment opposite the drawing-room was + thrown open, and a magnificent, an enthralling spectacle was revealed to + every eye. Not to be carried away, however, by enthusiasm, I will simply + say that we saw before us a long mahogany table covered with the most + appetizing viands—broils, roasts, stews, bread of every variety, and + real coffee and tea in real silver! That magical spectacle still dwells in + my memory, reader, though the fact may lower me in your good opinion. But + alas! we are all “weak creatures.” The most poetical grow hungry. We + remember our heroic performances in the great civil war—but ask old + soldiers if these recollections are not the most vivid! + </p> + <p> + An incident connected with the repast made it especially memorable. The + servants of the house had deserted to their friends in blue; and as there + was thus a deficiency of attendants, the young ladies took their places. + Behind every chair stood a maiden—their faces wreathed with smiles. + We were shown to our seats, amid joyous laughter. The comedy evidently + afforded all engaged in it immense enjoyment—and the cavaliers + humoring the angelic maid-servants, gravely advanced toward the table. + </p> + <p> + Stuart threw his plumed hat upon a chair, and drew near the foot of the + table. The light fell full on the ruddy face, the heavy beard and + mustache, and brilliant fighting jacket. He looked round with a gay smile. + “Was any one absent,” asked the kind lady of the house, as she saw the + glance. Stuart made a low bow, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “All are here, madam!” + </p> + <p> + All at once, however, a voice at the door responded:— + </p> + <p> + “I think you are mistaken, general!” + </p> + <p> + And he who had uttered these words advanced into the apartment. + </p> + <p> + He was a young man, about twenty-three, of medium height, graceful, and + with a smile of charming good humor upon the lips. His hair was light and + curling; his eyes blue; his lips shaded by a slender mustache. His uniform + was brand new, and decorated with the braid of a lieutenant. Yellow + gauntlets reached his elbow, he wore a shiny new satchel, and in his hand + carried a brown felt hat, caught up with a golden star. + </p> + <p> + Stuart grasped his hand warmly. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are, old fellow!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + And turning to the company, he added:— + </p> + <p> + “My new aid-de-camp, Lieutenant Herbert, ladies. A fop—but an old + soldier. Take that seat by Colonel Surry, Tom.” + </p> + <p> + And every one sat down, and attacked the supper. + </p> + <p> + I had shaken hands with Tom Herbert, who was far from being a stranger to + me, as I had met him frequently in the drawing-rooms of Richmond before + the war. He was a fop, but the most charming of fops, when I first knew + him. He wore brilliant waistcoats, variegated scarfs, diamond studs, and + straw-colored kid gloves. In his hand he used to flourish an ivory-headed + whalebone cane, and his boots were of feminine delicacy and dimensions. + Such was Tom at that time, but the war had “brought him out.” He had + rushed into the ranks, shouldered a musket, and fought bravely. So much I + knew—and I was soon to hear how he had come to be Stuart’s aid. + </p> + <p> + The supper was charming. The young girls waited on us with mock submission + and delighted smiles. Tom and I had fallen to the lot of a little princess + with golden ringlets; and Miss Katy Dare—that was her name—acquitted + herself marvellously. We supped as though we expected to eat nothing for + the next week—and then having finished, we rose, and waited in turn + on the fair waiters. + </p> + <p> + Behind every chair now stood an officer in uniform. + </p> + <p> + Bright eyes, rosy cheeks, jewelled hands, glossy curls—there was the + picture, my dear reader, which we beheld as we “waited” at that magical + supper near Buckland. When we wrapped our capes around us, and fell asleep + on the floor, the little maidens still laughed in our dreams!{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: A real incident.} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. — AN HONEST FOP. + </h2> + <p> + Stuart moved again at dawn. The scene of the preceding evening had passed + away like a dream. We were in the saddle, and advancing. + </p> + <p> + Riding beside Lieutenant Tom Herbert, I conversed with that worthy, and + found the tedious march beguiled by his gay and insouciant talk. + </p> + <p> + His “record” was simple. He had volunteered in the infantry, and at the + battle of Cold Harbor received a wound in the leg which disqualified him + for a foot-soldier thenceforward. His friends succeeded in procuring for + him the commission of lieutenant, and he was assigned to duty as + drill-master at a camp of instruction near Richmond. + </p> + <p> + “Here I was really in clover, old fellow,” said Tom, laughingly “no more + toils, no more hardships, no bullets, or hard tack, or want of soap. A + snowy shirt every day—kid gloves if I wanted them—and the + sound of cannon at a very remote distance to lull me to repose, my boy. + Things had changed, they had indeed! I looked back with scorn on the heavy + musket and cartridge-box. I rode a splendidly groomed horse, wore a new + uniform shining with gold braid, a new cap covered with ditto, boots which + you could see your face in, a magnificent sash, and spurs so long and + martial that they made the pavement resound, and announced my approach at + the distance of a quarter of a mile! I say the pavement; I was a good deal + on the pavement—that of the fashionable Franklin street being my + favorite haunt. And as the Scripture says, it is not good for man to be + alone, I had young ladies for companions. My life was grand, superb—none + of your low military exposure, like that borne by the miserable privates + and officers in the field! I slept in town, lived at a hotel, mounted my + horse after breakfast, at the Government stables near my lodgings and went + gallantly at a gallop, to drill infantry for an hour or two at the camp of + instruction. This was a bore, I acknowledge, but life can not be all + flowers. It was soon over, however—I galloped gallantly back—dined + with all the courses at my hotel, and then lit my cigar and strolled up + Franklin. I wore my uniform and spurs on these promenades—wild + horses tearing me would not have induced me to doff the spurs! They were + so martial! They jingled so! They gave a military and ferocious set-off to + my whole appearance, and were immensely admired by the fair sex! Regularly + on coming back from my arduous and dangerous duties at camp, I brushed my + uniform, put on my red sash, and with one hand resting with dignity on my + new sword belt, advanced to engage the enemy—on Franklin street.” + </p> + <p> + Tom Herbert’s laugh was contagious; his whole bearing so sunny and <i>riante</i> + that he was charming. + </p> + <p> + “Well, how did you awake from your <i>dolce far niente?</i>” I said. + </p> + <p> + “By an effort of the will, old fellow—for I really could not stand + that. It was glorious, delightful—that war-making in town; but there + was a thorn in it. I was ashamed of myself. ‘Tom Herbert you are not a + soldier, you are an impostor,’ I said; ‘you are young, healthy, as good + food for powder as anybody else, and yet here you are, safely laid away in + a bomb-proof, while your friends are fighting. Wake, rouse yourself, my + friend! The only way to regain the path of rectitude is to go back to the + army!” + </p> + <p> + “I said that, Surry,” Tom continued, “and as I could not go back into the + infantry on account of my leg, I applied for an assignment to duty in the + cavalry. Then the war office had a time of it. I besieged the nabobs of + the red tape day and night, and they got so tired of me at last that they + told me to find a general who wanted an aid and they would assign me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as I was coming out of the den I met General Jeb Stuart going in. I + knew him well, and he was tenth cousin to my grandmother, which you know + counts for a great deal in Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter, Tom?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I want a place in the cavalry, general.” + </p> + <p> + “What claim have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Shot in the leg—can’t walk—am tired of drilling men in + bomb-proof.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” he said. “That’s the way to talk. Come in here.” + </p> + <p> + “And he dragged me along. I found that one of his aids had just been + captured—he wanted another, and he applied for me. A month afterward + his application was approved—short for the war office. That was five + days ago. I got into the saddle,—pushed for the Rapidan—got to + Middleburg—and arrived in time for supper.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s my history, old fellow, except that I have just fallen in love—with + the young angel who waited on me at supper, Miss Katy Dare. I opened the + campaign in a corner last night—and I intend to win her, Surry, or + perish in the attempt!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. — STUART GRAZES CAPTURE. + </h2> + <p> + As Tom Herbert uttered these words, a loud shout in front startled us. + </p> + <p> + Stuart had ridden on ahead of his column, through the immense deserted + camps around Wolf Run Shoals, attended only by two or three staff + officers. + </p> + <p> + As I now raised my head quickly, I saw him coming back at headlong speed, + directing his horse by means of the halter only, and hotly pursued by a + detachment of Federal cavalry, firing on him as they pressed, with loud + shouts, upon his very heels. + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” shouted the enemy. And this order was followed by “bang! bang! + bang!” + </p> + <p> + Stuart did not obey the order. + </p> + <p> + “Halt! halt!” + </p> + <p> + And a storm of bullets whistled around our heads. I had drawn my sword, + but before I could go to Stuart’s assistance, Tom shot ahead of me. + </p> + <p> + He came just in time. Two of the enemy had caught up with Stuart, and were + making furious cuts at him. He parried the blow of one of the Federal + cavalry-men—and the other fell from the saddle, throwing up his + hands as he did so. Tom Herbert had placed his pistol on his breast, and + shot him through the heart. + </p> + <p> + But by this time the rest had reached us. A sabre flashed above Tom’s + head; fell, cutting him out of the saddle nearly; and he would have + dropped from it, had I not passed my arm around him. + </p> + <p> + In another instant, all three would have been killed or captured. But the + firing had given the alarm. A thunder of hoofs was heard: a squadron of + our cavalry dashed over the hill: in three minutes the enemy were flying, + to escape the edge of the sabre. + </p> + <p> + Stuart led the charge, and seemed to enjoy it with the zest of a + fox-hunter. He had indeed escaped from a critical danger. He had pushed on + with a few of his staff, as I have said, to Fairfax Station, had then + stopped and slipped his bridle to allow his horse to eat some “Yankee + oats,” and while standing beside the animal, had been suddenly charged by + the party of Federal cavalry, coming down on a reconnaissance from the + direction of the Court-House. So sudden was their appearance that he was + nearly “gobbled up.” He had leaped on the unbridled horse; seized the + halter, and fled at full speed. The enemy had pursued him; he had declined + halting—and the reader has seen the sequel.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Real.} + </p> + <p> + Stuart pressed the party hotly toward Sanxter’s, but they escaped—nearly + capturing on the way, however, a party of officers at a blacksmith’s shop. + The general came back in high good humor. The chase seemed to have + delighted him. + </p> + <p> + “Bully for old Tom Herbert!” he exclaimed. “You ought to have seen him + when they were cutting at him, and spoiling his fine new satchel!” + </p> + <p> + Tom Herbert did not seem to participate in the general’s mirth. He was + examining the satchel which a sabre stroke had nearly cut in two. + </p> + <p> + “What are you looking at?” asked Stuart. + </p> + <p> + “This hole, general,” replied Tom, uttering a piteous sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is a trifle.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a serious matter, general.” + </p> + <p> + “You have lost something?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “A joint of my new flute.” + </p> + <p> + And Tom Herbert’s expression was so melancholy that Stuart burst into + laughter. + </p> + <p> + “You may have lost your flute, Tom,” he said, leaning on his shoulder, + “but you have won your spurs at least, in the cavalry!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. — DROWSYLAND. + </h2> + <p> + At daylight, on the next morning, Stuart had crossed the Potomac into + Maryland. + </p> + <p> + He had advanced from Wolf Run Shoals to Fairfax Court House, where the men + rifled the sutlers’ shops of tobacco, figs, white gloves, straw hats, and + every edible and wearable:—then the column pushed on toward Seneca + Falls, where the long wavering line of horsemen might have been seen hour + after hour crossing the moonlit river, each man, to prevent wetting, + holding above his head a shot or shell taken from the caissons. Then the + artillery was dragged through: the panting horses trotted on, and the + first beams of day saw the long column of Stuart ready to advance on its + perilous pathway to the Susquehanna, by the route between the Federal army + and Washington. + </p> + <p> + The word was given, and with the red flags fluttering, Stuart moved toward + Rockville, unopposed, save by a picket, which was driven off by the + advance guard. Without further incident, he then pushed on, and entered + the town in triumph. + </p> + <p> + A charming reception awaited him. The place was thoroughly Southern; and + the passage of the cavalry was greeted with loud cheers. Unbounded was the + delight, above all, of a seminary of young girls. Doors and windows were + crowded: bright eyes shone; red lips laughed; waving handkerchiefs were + seen everywhere; and when Stuart appeared in person, he was received with + wild rejoicing. + </p> + <p> + He bowed low, removing his plumed hat, but suddenly intelligence came + which forced him to push on. A long train of “government” wagons had come + up from Washington, and on discovering our presence, returned toward the + city at a gallop. But the ferocious rebels were after them. Stuart led the + charging column—the warlike teamsters were soon halted—the + trains became our spoil—and with countless kicking mules driven + onward in droves before them, the cavalry, escorting the captured wagons, + continued their way toward Pennsylvania. + </p> + <p> + Moving all that night, Stuart came to Westminster, where Fitz Lee, the + gallant, drove the enemy’s cavalry from their camp, and the town fell into + the hands of Stuart. + </p> + <p> + Here scowls instead of smiles greeted us. Every face was glum and + forbidding, with a few exceptions. So we hastened to depart from that + “loyal” town, and were soon on the soil of Pennsylvania. + </p> + <p> + Approaching Hanover we suddenly waked up the hornets. Chambliss, leading + Stuart’s advance, pushed ahead and drove in a picket. Then that brave + soldier rushed on, and seemed intent on taking the place, when I was sent + by Stuart to order him “not to go too far.” + </p> + <p> + I came up with Chambliss as he was charging, but had scarcely given him + the order, when he was charged in turn by a heavy force and driven back. + </p> + <p> + The enemy rushed on, firing volleys, and the road was full of tramping + horsemen. To avoid being carried away with them, I diverged into a field, + when all at once Stuart appeared, retreating at full gallop before a party + who were chasing him. + </p> + <p> + It was a serious matter then, but I laugh now, remembering that “good + run.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart and myself retreated at a gallop, boot to boot; leaped ditches and + fences; and got off in safety. + </p> + <p> + A few moments afterward his artillery opened its thunders. From the lofty + hill, that hardy captain of the horse artillery, Breathed, roared + obstinately, driving them back. Hampton’s guns on the right had opened too—and + until night, we held the heights, repulsing every advance of the enemy. + </p> + <p> + It was truly a fine spectacle, that handsome town of Hanover as I looked + at it, on the afternoon of the fair June day. In front extended green + fields; then the church spires rose above the roofs of the town; behind, a + range of mountains formed a picturesque background. It is true, the + adjuncts of the scene were far from peaceful. The green fields were full + of blue sharp-shooters; in the suburbs were posted batteries; down the + mountain road behind, wound a long compact column of cavalry. + </p> + <p> + Breathed fought hard that day. From the waving field of rye on the upland + his guns thundered on—in the face of that fire, the enemy could not, + or would not, advance. + </p> + <p> + So the night came on, and Stuart’s great train moved. + </p> + <p> + Those wagons were a terrible encumbrance to us on the march. But Stuart + determined not to abandon them, and they were dragged on—a line + stretched to infinity! + </p> + <p> + Thenceforth, dear reader, the march was a sort of dream to me. How can I + relate my adventures—the numerous spectacles and events of the time? + I know not even now if they were events or mere dreams, seeing that, all + the long way, I was half asleep in the saddle! It was a veritable + Drowsyland that we moved through on horseback! The Dutchmen, the “fraus,” + the “spreading,” the sauer-kraut—the conestogas, the red barns, the + guttural voices, the strange faces—were these actual things, or the + mere fancies of a somnambulist? Was I an officer of real cavalry making a + real march; or a fanciful being, one of a long column of phantoms? + </p> + <p> + I seem dimly to remember a pretty face, whose owner smiled on me—and + a faint memory remains of a supper which she gave me. If I am not mistaken + I was left alone in the town of Salem—hostile faces were around me—and + I was falling asleep when Hampton’s cavalry came up. + </p> + <p> + I think, then, I rode on with him—having been left to direct him. + That we talked about horses, and the superiority of “blood” in animals; + that at dawn, Hampton said, “I am perishing for sleep!” and that we lay + down, side by side, near a haystack. + </p> + <p> + All that is a sort of phantasmagoria, and others were no better than + myself. Whole columns went to sleep, in the saddle, as they rode along; + and General Stuart told me afterward, that he saw a man attempt to climb + over a fence, half succeed only, and go to sleep on the top rail! + </p> + <p> + Some day I promise myself the pleasure of travelling in Pennsylvania. It + possesses all the attractions to me of a world seen in a dream! + </p> + <p> + But after that good sleep, side by side with the great Carolinian, things + looked far more real, and pushing on I again caught up with Stuart. + </p> + <p> + He advanced steadily on Carlisle, and in the afternoon we heard artillery + from the south. + </p> + <p> + I looked at my military map, and calculated the distance. The result was + that I said:— + </p> + <p> + “General, those guns are at a place called Gettysburg on this map.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” was his reply. “They can not be fighting there. You are + certainly wrong.” + </p> + <p> + But I was right. + </p> + <p> + Those guns were the signal of the “First day’s fight at Gettysburg.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. — CARLISLE BY FIRELIGHT. + </h2> + <p> + It can not be said that we accomplished very enormous results at Carlisle. + The enemy defended it bravely. + </p> + <p> + Stuart sent in a flag, demanding a surrender: this proposition was + politely declined; and for fear that there might possibly remain some + doubts on the subject, the Federal commander of the post, opened with + artillery upon the gray cavalry. + </p> + <p> + That was the signal for a brisk fight, and a magnificent spectacle also. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the enemy’s response to the flag of truce had been received, + Stuart advanced his sharp-shooters, replied with his artillery to their + own, and dispatched a party to destroy the extensive United States + barracks, formerly used as cantonments for recruits to the army. + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes the buildings were wrapped in flames; and the city of + Carlisle was illumined magnificently. The crimson light of the + conflagration revealed every house, the long lines of trees, and made the + delicate church spires, rising calmly aloft, resemble shafts of + rose-tinted marble. + </p> + <p> + I recall but one scene which was equally picturesque—the “doomed + city” of Fredericksburg, on the night of December 11, 1862, when the + church spires were illumined by the burning houses, as those of Carlisle + were in June, 1863. + </p> + <p> + So much for this new “Siege of Carlisle.” Here my description ends. It was + nothing—a mere picture. An hour afterward Stuart ceased firing, the + conflagration died down; back into the black night sank the fair town of + Carlisle, seen then for the first and the last time by this historian. + </p> + <p> + The guns were silent, the cavalry retired; and Stuart, accompanied by his + staff, galloped back to a great deserted house where he established his + temporary head-quarters. + </p> + <p> + On the bold face there was an expression of decided ill-humor. He had just + received a dispatch, by courier, from General Lee. + </p> + <p> + That dispatch said, “Come, I need you urgently here,” and the “here” in + question, was Gettysburg, at least twenty miles distant. Now, with + worn-out men and horses, twenty miles was a serious matter. Stuart’s brows + were knit, and he mused gloomily. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he turned and addressed me. + </p> + <p> + “You were right, Surry,” he said, “those guns were at Gettysburg. This + dispatch, sent this morning, reports the enemy near there.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed; Stuart reflected for some moments without speaking. Then he + suddenly said:— + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would go to General Lee, and say I am coming, Surry. How is + your horse?” + </p> + <p> + “Worn-out, general, but I can get another.” + </p> + <p> + “Good; tell General Lee that I will move at once to Gettysburg, with all + my force, and as rapidly as possible!” + </p> + <p> + “I will lose no time, general.” + </p> + <p> + And saluting, I went out. + </p> + <p> + From the captured horses I selected the best one I could find, and burying + the spurs in his sides, set out through the black night. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. — THE HOUSE BETWEEN CARLISLE AND GETTYSBURG. + </h2> + <p> + You know when you set out, the proverb says, but you know not when you + will arrive. + </p> + <p> + I left Carlisle, breasting the night, on the road to Gettysburg, little + thinking that a curious incident was to occur to me upon the way—an + incident closely connected with the destinies of some personages who play + prominent parts in this history. + </p> + <p> + I had ridden on for more than an hour, through the darkness, keeping a + good look-out for the enemy, whose scouting parties of cavalry were known + to be prowling around, when all at once, my horse, who was going at full + speed, struck his foot against a sharp point of rock, cropping out from + the surface. + </p> + <p> + The animal stumbled, recovered himself, and went on as rapidly as before. + A hundred yards further his speed relaxed; then he began to limp + painfully; then in spite of every application of the spur I could not + force him out of a slow limping trot. + </p> + <p> + It was truly unfortunate. I was the bearer of an important message, and + was surrounded by enemies. The only chance was to pass through them, under + shadow of the darkness; with light they would perceive me, and my capture + be certain. + </p> + <p> + A hundred yards further, and I found I must decide at once upon the course + to pursue. My horse seemed about to fall. At every stroke of the spur he + groaned piteously, and his limp had become a stagger. + </p> + <p> + I looked around through the trees, and at the distance of a quarter of a + mile I saw the glimmer of a light. To obtain another horse was + indispensable under the circumstances; and looking to see that my revolver + was loaded and capped, I forced my tottering animal toward the mansion in + which the light glimmered. + </p> + <p> + My design was simply to proceed thither, “impress” a fresh horse at the + pistol’s muzzle; throw my saddle upon him; leave my own animal, and + proceed on my way. + </p> + <p> + Pushing across the fields, and dismounting to let down the fences which my + limping animal could not leap, I soon approached the light. It shone + through the window of a house of some size, with ornamental grounds around + it, and apparently the abode of a man of means. + </p> + <p> + At fifty paces from it I dismounted and tethered my horse in the shadow of + some trees. A brief reconnaissance under the circumstances was advisable; + and approaching the mansion silently, without allowing my sabre to make + any clatter, I gained the long portico in front, and went to a window + reaching down to the flooring of the verandah. + </p> + <p> + Through the half-closed venetians I could see into a large apartment, half + library, half sitting-room, as the easy chairs, mantel ornaments, desks, + and book-cases showed. On the centre-table burned a brilliant lamp—and + by its light I witnessed a spectacle which made me draw back in the shadow + of the shutter, and rivet my eyes on the interior. + </p> + <p> + Before me, in the illuminated apartment, I saw the woman whom Mohun had + captured on the Rappahannock; and beside her the personage with whom she + had escaped that morning in the wagon from Culpeper Court-House. I could + not mistake him. The large, prominent nose, the cunning eyes, the double + chin, the fat person, and the chubby hands covered with pinchbeck rings, + were still fresh in my memory. + </p> + <p> + The name of this personage had been revealed by Nighthawk. Swartz, the + secret agent, blockade-runner, and “best spy in the Federal army” was + before me. + </p> + <p> + A glance at the woman revealed no change in her appearance. Before me was + the same lithe and graceful figure, clad as before in a gray dress. I saw + the same snow-white cheeks, red lips, and large eyes burning with a latent + fire. + </p> + <p> + The two were busily engaged, and it was not difficult to understand their + occupation. The desks, drawers and chests of the apartment were all open; + and the female with rapid hands was transferring papers from them to + Swartz, who methodically packed them in a leathern valise. These papers + were no doubt important, and the aim to remove them to some place of + safety beyond the reach of the Confederates. + </p> + <p> + I gazed for some moments, without moving, upon the spectacle of these two + night-birds at their work. The countenance of the lady was animated; her + motions rapid; and from time to time she stopped to listen. Swartz, on the + contrary, was the incarnation of phlegmatic coolness. His face wore an + expression of entire equanimity; and he seemed to indulge no fears + whatever of intruders. + </p> + <p> + All at once, however, I saw his eyes glitter as they fell upon a paper + which she handed him to pack away with the rest. It was carefully folded, + but one of the folds flew open as he received it, and his eyes were + suddenly fixed intently upon the sheet. + </p> + <p> + Then his head turned quickly, and he looked at his companion. She was + bending over a drawer, and did not observe that glance. Thereupon Swartz + folded up the paper, quietly put it in his pocket, and went on packing the + valise with his former coolness; only a slight color in his face seemed to + indicate concealed emotion. + </p> + <p> + As he pocketed the paper, his companion turned round. It was plain that + she had not perceived the manoeuvre. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment I heard the sound of hoofs in rear of the house, and + the clatter of a sabre as a cavalier dismounted. A few indistinct words, + apparently addressed to a servant or orderly, followed. Then the door of + the apartment opposite the front window was thrown open, and a man + entered. + </p> + <p> + In the new-comer I recognized Mohun’s adversary at Upperville—Colonel + Darke, of the United States Cavalry. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. — FALLEN. + </h2> + <p> + Darke entered the apartment abruptly, but his appearance seemed to + occasion no surprise. The spy retained his coolness. The lady went on with + her work. You would have said that they had expected the officer, and + recognized his step. + </p> + <p> + Their greeting was brief. Darke nodded in apparent approbation of the task + in which the man and woman were engaged, and folding his arms in front of + the marble mantel, looked on in silence. + </p> + <p> + I gazed at him with interest, and more carefully than I had been able to + do during the fight at Upperville, when the smoke soon concealed him. Let + me draw his outline. Of all the human beings whom I encountered in the + war, this one’s character and career were perhaps the most remarkable. + Were I writing a romance, I should be tempted to call him the real hero of + this volume. + </p> + <p> + He was a man approaching middle age; low in stature, but broad, muscular, + and powerful. He was clad in the full-dress uniform of a colonel of the + United States Cavalry, wore boots reaching to the knee and decorated with + large spurs; and his arms were an immense sabre and a brace of revolvers + in black leather holsters attached to his belt. His face was swarthy, + swollen by excess in drink apparently, and half covered by a shaggy beard + and mustache as black as night. The eyes were deep-set, and wary: the + poise of the head upon the shoulders, haughty; the expression of the + entire countenance cold, phlegmatic, grim. + </p> + <p> + Such was this man, upon the surface. But there was something more about + him which irresistibly attracted attention, and aroused speculation. At + the first glance, you set him down as a common-place ruffian, the prey of + every brutal passion. At the second glance, you began to doubt whether he + was a mere vulgar adventurer—you could see, at least, that this man + was not of low birth. There was in his bearing an indefinable something + which indicated that he had “seen better days.” The surface of the fabric + was foul and defiled, but the texture beneath was of velvet, not “hodden + gray.” + </p> + <p> + “That brute,” I thought, “was once a gentleman, and crime or drink has + destroyed him!” + </p> + <p> + Darke continued to gaze at Swartz and the gray woman as they plied their + busy work; and once or twice be pointed to drawers which they had failed + to open. These directions were promptly obeyed, and the work went on. The + few words which the parties uttered came in an indistinct murmur only + through the window at which I was stationed. + </p> + <p> + Such was the scene within the mansion, upon which I gazed with strong + curiosity: suddenly the neigh of a horse was heard in a clump of woods + beyond the front gate; and Darke quickly raised his head, and then came + out to the portico. + </p> + <p> + He passed within three feet of me, but did not perceive me, as I was + concealed by one of the open venetians. Then he paused and listened. The + wind sighed in the foliage, and a distant watch-dog was barking—that + was all. No other noise disturbed the silence of the July night. + </p> + <p> + Darke remained upon the portico for some moments, listening attentively. + Then turned and re-entered the house. Through the window, I could see him + make his appearance again in the illuminated apartment. In response to the + glances of inquiry from his companions he made a gesture only, but that + said plainly:— + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is stirring. You can go on with your work.” + </p> + <p> + In this, however, he was mistaken. Darke had scarcely re-entered the + apartment, when I discerned the hoof-strokes of horses beyond the front + gate—then the animals were heard leaping the low fence—a + moment afterward two figures came on at full gallop, threw themselves from + the saddle, and rapidly approached the house. + </p> + <p> + The rattle of a sabre which one of them wore attracted Darke’s attention. + He reached the door of the room at a single bound—but at the same + instant the new comers rushed by me, and burst in. + </p> + <p> + As they passed I recognized them. One was Mohun, the other Nighthawk. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII. — DARKE AND MOHUN. + </h2> + <p> + What followed was instantaneous. + </p> + <p> + The adversaries were face to face, and each drew his pistol and fired at + the same moment. + </p> + <p> + Neither was struck: they drew their swords; and, through the cloud of + smoke filling the apartment, I could see Darke and Mohun close in, in a + hand to hand encounter. + </p> + <p> + They were both excellent swordsmen, and the struggle was passionate and + terrible. Mohun’s movements were those of the tiger springing upon his + prey; but Darke met the attack with a coolness and phlegm which indicated + unshrinking nerve; his expression seemed, even, to indicate that crossing + swords with his adversary gave the swarthy giant extreme pleasure. His + face glowed, and a flash darted from beneath the shaggy eyebrows. I could + see him smile; but the smile was strange. + </p> + <p> + From the adversaries my glance passed quickly to the gray woman. She was + leaning against the wall, and exhibited no emotion whatever; but the lurid + blaze in the great dark eyes, as she looked at Mohun, clearly indicated + that a storm was raging in her bosom. Opposite the woman stood Nighthawk—motionless, + but grasping a pistol. As to Swartz, that worthy had profited by an open + window near, and had glided through it and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + To return to the combatants. The passionate encounter absorbed all my + attention. Mohun and Darke were cutting at each other furiously. They + seemed equally matched, and the result was doubtful. One thing only seemed + certain—that in a few minutes one of the adversaries would be dead. + </p> + <p> + Such was the situation of affairs when shots were heard without, the clash + of sabres followed, and the door behind Darke was burst open violently by + his orderly, who rushed in, exclaiming:— + </p> + <p> + “Look out, colonel! The enemy are on you!” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered these words, the man drew a revolver and aimed at Mohun’s + breast. + </p> + <p> + Before he could fire, however, an explosion was heard, and I saw the man + suddenly drop his weapon, which went off as it escaped from his nerveless + grasp. Then he threw up his hands, reeled, took two uncertain steps + backward, and fell at full length on the floor. Nighthawk had shot him + through the heart. + </p> + <p> + All this had taken place in far less time than it has taken to write it. I + had made violent efforts to break through the window; and finding this + impossible, now ran to the door and burst into the apartment. + </p> + <p> + The singular scene was to have as singular a denouement. + </p> + <p> + Darke evidently realized the great danger which he ran, for the house was + now surrounded, nearly, and his capture was imminent. + </p> + <p> + From the black eyes shot a glare of defiance, and advancing upon Mohun, he + delivered a blow at him which nearly shattered his opponent’s sword. Mohun + struck in turn, aiming a furious cut at Darke; but as he did so, he + stumbled over the dead orderly, and nearly fell. For the moment he was at + Darke’s mercy. + </p> + <p> + I rushed forward, sword in hand, to ward off the mortal stroke which I was + certain his adversary would deliver, but my intervention was useless. + </p> + <p> + Darke recoiled from his stumbling adversary, instead of striking at him. I + could scarcely believe my own eyes, but the fact was unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + Then the Federal colonel looked around, and his eye fell upon the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Kill him!” she said, coldly. “Do not mind me!—only kill him!” + </p> + <p> + “No!” growled Darke. And seizing the woman in his arms:— + </p> + <p> + “They shall not take you prisoner!” he said. + </p> + <p> + And the swarthy Hercules passed through the door in rear at a single + bound, bearing off the woman like a feather. + </p> + <p> + A moment afterward the hoof-strokes of a horse were heard. + </p> + <p> + Darke had disappeared with the gray woman. + </p> + <p> + I turned to look at Mohun. He was standing perfectly motionless, and + looking after Darke with a strange expression of gloom and astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “You are unhurt!” I said. + </p> + <p> + He turned quickly, and held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Slightly wounded—but I am not thinking of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember only one thing—that this man might have buried his sword + in my heart, and did not.” + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward the skirmish was over; I had explained my presence at + the house to Mohun, parted with him, promising to see him soon again; and, + mounted upon a fresh animal which Mohun presented to me from among those + captured, was once more on my way to Gettysburg. + </p> + <p> + It was hard to realize that the scenes of the night were actual + occurrences. They were more like dreams than realities. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII. — GETTYSBURG. + </h2> + <p> + I came in sight of Gettysburg at sunrise. + </p> + <p> + Gettysburg!—name instinct with so many tears, with so much mourning, + with those sobs which tear their way from the human heart as the lava + makes its way from the womb of the volcano! + </p> + <p> + There are words in the world’s history whose very sound is like a sigh or + a groan; places which are branded “accursed” by the moaning lips of + mothers, wives, sisters, and orphans. Shadowy figures, gigantic and draped + in mourning, seem to hover above these spots: skeleton arms with bony + fingers point to the soil beneath, crowded with graves: from the eyes, dim + and hollow, glare unutterable things: and the grin of the fleshless lips + is the gibbering mirth of the corpse torn from its cerements, and erect, + as though the last trump had sounded, and the dead had arisen. No fresh + flowers bloom in these dreary spots; no merry birds twitter there; no + streamlets lapse sweetly with musical murmurs beneath the waterflags or + the drooping boughs of trees. See! the blighted and withered plants are + like the deadly nightshade—true flowers of war, blooming, or trying + to bloom, on graves! Hear the voices of the few birds—they are sad + and discordant! See the trees—they are gnarled, spectral, and torn + by cannon-balls. Listen! The stream yonder is not limpid and mirthful like + other streams. You would say that it is sighing as it steals away, soiled + and ashamed. The images it has mirrored arouse its horror and make it sad. + The serene surface has not given back the bright forms of children, + laughing and gathering the summer flowers on its banks. As it sneaks like + a culprit through the scarred fields of battle, it washes bare the bones + of the dead in crumbling uniforms—bringing, stark and staring, to + the upper air once more, the blanched skeleton and the grinning skull. + </p> + <p> + Names of woe, at whose utterance the heart shudders, the blood curdles! + Accursed localities where the traveller draws back, turning away in + horror! All the world is dotted with them; everywhere they make the + sunlight black. Among them, none is gloomier, or instinct with a more + nameless horror, than the once insignificant village of Gettysburg. + </p> + <p> + I reached it on the morning of July 2, 1863. + </p> + <p> + The immense drama was in full progress. The adversaries had clashed + together. Riding across the extensive fields north of the town, I saw the + traces of the combat of the preceding day—and among the dying I + remember still a poor Federal soldier, who looked at me with his stony and + half-glazed eye as I passed; he was an enemy, but he was dying and I + pitied him. + </p> + <p> + A few words will describe the situation of affairs at that moment. + </p> + <p> + Lee had pressed on northward through the valley of the Cumberland, when + news came that General Meade, who had succeeded Hooker, was advancing to + deliver battle to the invaders. + </p> + <p> + At that intelligence Lee arrested his march. Meade menaced his + communications, and it was necessary to check him. Hill’s corps was, + therefore, sent across the South Mountain, toward Gettysburg; Ewell, who + had reached York, was ordered back; and Lee made his preparations to fight + his adversary as soon as he appeared. + </p> + <p> + The columns encountered each other in the neighborhood of Gettysburg—a + great centre toward which a number of roads converge, like the spokes of a + wheel toward the hub. + </p> + <p> + The head of Hill’s column struck the head of Reynolds’s—then the + thunder began. + </p> + <p> + The day and scene were lovely. On the waving wheat-fields and the forests + in full foliage, the light of a summer sun fell in flashing splendor. A + slight rain had fallen; the wind was gently blowing; and the leaves and + golden grain were covered with drops which the sunshine changed to + diamonds. Over the exquisite landscape drooped a beautiful rainbow. + </p> + <p> + Soon blood had replaced the raindrops, and the bright bow spanning the sky + was hidden by lurid smoke, streaming aloft from burning buildings, set on + fire by shell. + </p> + <p> + I give but a few words to this first struggle, which I did not witness. + </p> + <p> + The Federal forces rushed forward, exclaiming:—- + </p> + <p> + “We have come to stay!” + </p> + <p> + “And a very large portion of them,” said one of their officers, General + Doubleday, “never left that ground!” + </p> + <p> + Alas! many thousands in gray, too, “came to stay.” + </p> + <p> + Hill was hard pressed and sent for assistance. Suddenly it appeared from + the woods on his left, where Ewell’s bayonets were seen, coming back from + the Susquehanna. + </p> + <p> + Rodes, the head of Ewell’s corps, formed line and threw himself into the + action. + </p> + <p> + Early came up on the left; Rodes charged and broke through the Federal + centre. Gordon, commanding a brigade then, closed in on their right flank, + and the battle was decided. + </p> + <p> + The great blue crescent was shattered, and gave way. The Confederates + pressed on, and the Federal army became a rabble. They retreated pellmell + through Gettysburg, toward Cemetery Hill, leaving their battle-flags and + five thousand prisoners in our hands. + </p> + <p> + Such was the first day’s fight at Gettysburg. Lee’s head of column had + struck Meade’s; each had rapidly been reinforced; the affair became a + battle, and the Federal forces were completely defeated. + </p> + <p> + That was the turning point of the campaign. If this success had only been + followed up—if we could only have seized upon and occupied Cemetery + Hill! + </p> + <p> + Then General Meade would have been compelled to retire upon Westminster + and Washington. He would doubtless have fought somewhere, but it is a + terrible thing to have an army flushed with victory “after” you! + </p> + <p> + Cemetery Range was not seized that night. When the sun rose the next + morning, the golden moment had passed. General Meade was ready. + </p> + <p> + From right to left, as far as the eye could reach, the heights bristled + with blue infantry and artillery. From every point on the ridge waved the + enemy’s battle flags. From the muzzles of his bronze war-dogs, Meade sent + his defiant challenge to his adversary to attack him. + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” the Federal artillery seemed to mutter fiercely. + </p> + <p> + And Lee’s guns from the ridge opposite thundered grimly in reply, + </p> + <p> + “We are coming!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV. — THE ARMY. + </h2> + <p> + Alas!— + </p> + <p> + That is the word which rises to the lips of every Southerner, above all to + every Virginian, who attempts to describe this terrible battle of + Gettysburg. + </p> + <p> + The cheeks flush, the voice falters, and something like a fiery mist + blinds the eyes. What comes back to the memory of the old soldiers who saw + that fight is a great picture of heroic assaults, ending in frightful + carnage only,—of charges such as the world has rarely seen, made in + vain,—of furious onslaughts, the only result of which was to strew + those fatal fields with the dead bodies of the flower of the Southern + race. + </p> + <p> + And we were so near succeeding! Twice the enemy staggered; and one more + blow—only one more! promised the South a complete victory! + </p> + <p> + When Longstreet attacked Round Top Hill, driving the enemy back to their + inner line, victory seemed within our very grasp—but we could not + snatch it. The enemy acknowledge that, and it is one of their own poets + who declares that + </p> + <p> + “The century reeled When Longstreet paused on the slope of the hill.” + </p> + <p> + Pickett stormed Cemetery Heights, and wanted only support. Five thousand + men at his back would have given him victory. + </p> + <p> + There is a name for the battle of Gettysburg which exactly suits it—“The + Great Graze!” + </p> + <p> + You must go to the histories, reader, for a detailed account of this + battle. I have not the heart to write it, and aim to give you a few scenes + only. In my hasty memoirs I can touch only upon the salient points, and + make the general picture. + </p> + <p> + The ground on which the battle was fought, is familiar to many thousands. + A few words will describe it. Cemetery Ridge, where General Meade had + taken up his position, is a range of hills running northward toward + Gettysburg, within a mile of which place it bends off to the right, + terminating in a lofty and rock-bound crest. + </p> + <p> + This crest was Meade’s right. His line stretched away southward then, and + ended at Round Top Hill, the southern extremity of the range, about four + miles distant. From one end to the other of the extensive range, bayonets + glistened, and the muzzles of cannon grinned defiance. + </p> + <p> + Opposite the Cemetery Range was a lower line of hills, called Seminary + Range. Upon this Lee was posted, Ewell holding his left, A. P. Hill his + centre, and Longstreet his right. + </p> + <p> + Between the two armies stretched a valley, waving with grain and dotted + with fruit-trees, through which ran the Emmettsburg road, on the western + side of a small stream. The golden grain waved gently; the limpid water + lapsed away beneath grass and flowers; the birds were singing; the sun was + shining—it was the strangest of all scenes for a bloody conflict. + </p> + <p> + I rode along the line of battle, and curiously scanned the features of the + landscape. There is a frightful interest connected with ground which is + soon going to become the arena of a great combat. A glance told me that + the enemy’s position was much the stronger of the two. Would Lee attack + it? + </p> + <p> + From the landscape I turned to look at the army. Never had I seen them so + joyous. It would be impossible to convey any idea of the afflatus which + buoyed them up. Every man’s veins seemed to run with quicksilver, instead + of blood. Every cheek was glowing. Every eye flashed with superb joy and + defiance. You would have supposed, indeed, that the troops were under the + effect of champagne or laughing gas. “I never even imagined such courage,” + said a Federal officer afterward; “your men seemed to be drunk with + victory when they charged us!” + </p> + <p> + That was scarce an exaggeration. Already on the morning of battle they + presented this appearance. Lying down in line of battle, they laughed, + jested, sang, and resembled children enjoying a holiday. On the faces of + bearded veterans and boy-soldiers alike was a splendid pride. The + victories of Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville had electrified the + troops. They thought little of a foe who could be so easily driven; they + looked forward to victory as a foregone conclusion—alas! they did + not remember that they held the heights at Fredericksburg; and that Meade + on Cemetery Hill was an adversary very different from Hooker in the + Spottsylvania Wilderness! + </p> + <p> + Such was the spectacle which I witnessed, when after delivering my message + to General Lee, I rode along the Southern line. I think the great + commander shared in some measure the sentiment of his troops. His bearing + was collected; in his eye you could read no trace of excitement; the lips + covered by the gray mustache were firm and composed; and he greeted me + with quiet courtesy:—but in the cheeks of the great soldier a ruddy + glow seemed to betray anticipated victory. + </p> + <p> + I confess I shared the general sentiment. That strange intoxication was + contagious, and I was drunk like the rest with the thought of triumph. + That triumph would open to us the gates of Washington and bring peace. The + North scarcely denied that then—though they may deny it to-day. The + whole country was completely weary of the war. There seemed to be no hope + of compelling the South to return to the Union. A victory over Meade, + opening the whole North to Lee, promised a treaty of peace. The day had + arrived, apparently when the army of Northern Virginia, musket in hand, + was about to dictate the terms of that document. + </p> + <p> + “Lee has only to slip the leash,” I thought, as I gazed at the army, “and + these war-dogs will tear down their prey!” + </p> + <p> + Alas! they tore it, but were torn too! they did all at Gettysburg that any + troops could do. + </p> + <p> + What was impossible, was beyond even their strength. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV. — THE WRESTLE FOR ROUND TOP HILL. + </h2> + <p> + From the morning of the second of July to the evening of the third, the + fields south of Gettysburg were one great scene of smoke, dust, uproar, + blood; of columns advancing and returning; cannon thundering; men + shouting, yelling, cheering, and dying; blue mingled with gray in savage + and unrelenting battle. + </p> + <p> + In that smoke-cloud, with the ears deafened, you saw or heard little + distinctly. But above the confused struggle rose two great incidents, + which on successive days decided every thing. + </p> + <p> + The first of them was Longstreet’s assault on the enemy’s left wing, in + front of Round Top Hill. + </p> + <p> + Lee had displayed excellent soldiership in determining upon this movement, + and it will be seen that it came within an inch of success. Standing upon + Seminary Range, near his centre, he had reconnoitered General Meade’s + position through his field-glass, with great attention; and this + examination revealed the fact that the Federal line was projected forward + in a salient in front of Round Top Hill, a jagged and almost inaccessible + peak, near which rested General Meade’s extreme left. + </p> + <p> + If this weak point could be carried, “it appeared” said Lee, “that its + possession would give facilities for assailing and carrying the more + elevated ground and crest beyond.” + </p> + <p> + As to the importance of that crest—namely Round Top Hill—hear + General Meade:— + </p> + <p> + “If they had succeeded in occupying that, it would have prevented me from + holding any of the ground which I subsequently held to the last.” + </p> + <p> + Lee determined to attack the salient, making at the same time a heavy + demonstration—or a real assault—upon the Federal right, + opposite Ewell. + </p> + <p> + All his preparations were not made until the afternoon. Then suddenly, + Longstreet’s artillery opened its thunders. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the spectacle was grand. The heights, the slopes, the + fields, and the rugged crest opposite, were enveloped in smoke and fire + from the bursting shell. The sombre roar ascended like the bellowing of a + thousand bulls, leaped back from the rocks, and rolled away, in wild + echoes through the hills. All the furies seemed let loose, and yet this + was only the preface. + </p> + <p> + At four in the evening the thunder dropped to silence, and along the lines + of Hood and McLaws, which formed the charging column, ran a wild cheer, + which must have reached the ears of the enemy opposite. + </p> + <p> + That cheer told both sides that the moment had come. The word was given, + and Longstreet hurled his column at the blue line occupying a + peach-orchard in his front. + </p> + <p> + The blow was aimed straight at the salient in the Federal line, and in + spite of a brave resistance it was swept away; McLaws advancing rapidly + toward the high ground in its rear. At one blow the whole left wing of + General Meade’s army seemed thrown into irretrievable confusion, and Hood + pressing forward on McLaws’s right, hastened to seize upon the famous + Round Top, from which he would be able to hurl his thunder upon the flank + and rear of the Federal line of battle. + </p> + <p> + The scene, like the conflict which now took place, was wild and singular. + The crest of Round Top Hill was a mass of rock, which rose abruptly from + the rough and jagged slope. It was unoccupied—for the sudden + overthrow of the force in front of it had not been anticipated—and + one headlong rush on the part of Hood alone seemed necessary to give him + possession of the real key of the whole position. + </p> + <p> + Hood saw that at a glance, and dashed up the slope at the head of his men. + It was scarcely an order of battle which his troops presented at this + moment. But one thought burned in every heart. The men swarmed up the + hill-side; the woods gave back the rolling thunder of their cheers; + already the Southern battle-flags carried by the foremost were fluttering + on the crest. + </p> + <p> + The mass rushed toward the red flags; for an instant the gray figures were + seen erect upon the summit—then a sudden crash of musketry resounded—and + a mad struggle began with a Federal brigade which had hastened to the + spot. + </p> + <p> + This force, it is said, was hurried up by General Warren, who finding the + Federal signal-officers about to retire, ordered them, to remain and + continue waving their flags to the last; and then, seizing on the first + brigade he could find, rushed them up the slope to the crest. + </p> + <p> + They arrived just in time. Hood’s men were swarming on the crest. A loud + cheer arose, but all at once they found themselves face to face with a + line of bayonets, while beyond were seen confused and struggling masses, + dragging up cannon. + </p> + <p> + What followed was a savage grapple rather than an ordinary conflict. Only + a small part of Hood’s force had reached the summit, and this was assailed + by a whole brigade. The fight was indescribable. All that the eye could + make out for some moments in the dust and smoke, was a confused mass of + men clutching each other, dealing blows with the butt-ends of muskets, or + fencing with bayonets—men in blue and gray, wrestling, cursing, + falling, and dying, in the midst of the crash of small-arms, and the + thunder of cannon, which clothed the crest in flame. + </p> + <p> + When the smoke drifted, it was seen that the Confederates had been + repulsed, and driven from the hill. Hood was falling back slowly, like a + wounded tiger, who glares at the huntsman and defies him to the last. The + slope was strewed with some of his bravest. The Federal cannon roaring on + Round Top Hill, seemed to be laughing hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + McLaws, too, had fallen back after nearly seizing upon the crest in his + front. The enemy had quickly re-enforced their left, with brigades, + divisions, and corps, and the Confederates had been hotly assailed in + their turn. As night descended, the whole Southern line fell back. The + pallid moonlight shone on the upturned faces of the innumerable dead. + </p> + <p> + Longstreet sat on a fence, cutting a stick with his penknife, when an + English officer near him exclaimed:— + </p> + <p> + “I would not have missed this for any thing?” + </p> + <p> + Longstreet, laughed grimly. + </p> + <p> + “I would like to have missed it very much!”{1} he said. + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI. — THE CHARGE OF THE VIRGINIANS. + </h2> + <p> + Lee’s great blow at the enemy’s left had failed. He had thrown his entire + right wing, under Longstreet, against it. The enemy had been driven; + victory seemed achieved;—but suddenly the blue lines had rallied, + they had returned to the struggle, their huge masses had rolled forward, + thrown Longstreet back in turn, and now the pale moon looked down on the + battlefield where some of the bravest souls of the South had poured out + their blood in vain. + </p> + <p> + Lee had accomplished nothing, and one of his great corps was panting and + bleeding. It was not shattered or even shaken. The iron fibre would stand + any thing almost. But the sombre result remained—Longstreet had + attacked and had been repulsed. + </p> + <p> + What course would Lee now pursue? Would he retire? + </p> + <p> + Retire? The army of Northern Virginia lose heart at a mere rebuff? Lee’s + veteran army give up the great invasion, after a mere repulse? Troops and + commander alike shrunk from the very thought. One more trial of arms—something—an + attack somewhere—not <i>a retreat</i>! + </p> + <p> + That was the spirit of the army on the night of the second of July. + </p> + <p> + A flanking movement to draw the enemy out of their works, or a second + attack remained. + </p> + <p> + Lee determined to attack. + </p> + <p> + Longstreet and Ewell had accomplished nothing by assailing the right and + left of the enemy. Lee resolved now to throw a column against its centre—to + split the stubborn obstacle, and pour into the gap with the whole army, + when all would be over. + </p> + <p> + That was hazardous, you will say perhaps to-day, reader. And you have this + immense argument to advance, that it failed. Ah! these arguments <i>after + the event</i>! they are so fatal, and so very easy. + </p> + <p> + Right or wrong, Lee resolved to make the attack; and on the third of July + he carried out his resolution. + </p> + <p> + If the writer of the South shrinks from describing the bloody repulse of + Longstreet, much more gloomy is the task of painting that last charge at + Gettysburg. It is one of those scenes which Lee’s old soldiers approach + with repugnance. That thunder of the guns which comes back to memory seems + to issue, hollow and lugubrious, from a thousand tombs. + </p> + <p> + Let us pass over that tragedy rapidly. It must be touched on in these + memoirs—but I leave it soon. + </p> + <p> + It is the third of July, 1863. Lee’s line of battle, stretching along the + crest of Seminary Ridge, awaits the signal for a new conflict with a + carelessness as great as on the preceding day. The infantry are laughing, + jesting, cooking their rations, and smoking their pipes. The ragged + cannoneers, with flashing eyes, smiling lips, and faces blackened with + powder, are standing in groups, or lying down around the pieces of + artillery. Near the centre of the line a gray-headed officer, in plain + uniform, and entirely unattended, has dismounted, and is reconnoitring the + Federal position through a pair of field-glasses. + </p> + <p> + It is Lee, and he is looking toward Cemetery Heights, the Mount St. Jean + of the new Waterloo—on whose slopes the immense conflict is going to + be decided. + </p> + <p> + Lee gazes for some moments through his glasses at the long range bristling + with bayonets. Not a muscle moves; he resembles a statue. Then he lowers + the glasses, closes them thoughtfully, and his calm glance passes along + the lines of his army. You would say that this glance penetrates the + forest; that he sees his old soldiers, gay, unshrinking, unmoved by the + reverses of Longstreet, and believing in themselves and in him! The blood + of the soldier responds to that thought. The face of the great commander + suddenly flushes. He summons a staff officer and utters a few words in + calm and measured tones. The order is given. The grand assault is about to + begin. + </p> + <p> + That assault is going to be one of the most desperate in all history. + Longstreet’s has been fierce—this will be mad and full of headlong + fury. At Round Top blood flowed—here the earth is going to be soaked + with it. Gettysburg is to witness a charge recalling that of the six + hundred horsemen at Balaklava. Each soldier will feel that the fate of the + South depends on him, perhaps. If the wedge splits the tough grain, + cracking it from end to end, the axe will enter after it—the work + will be finished—the red flag of the South will float in triumph + over a last and decisive field. + </p> + <p> + Pickett’s division of Virginia troops has been selected for the hazardous + venture, and they prepare for the ordeal in the midst of a profound + silence. Since the morning scarce a gunshot has been heard. Now and then + only, a single cannon, like a signal-gun, sends its growl through the + hills. + </p> + <p> + Those two tigers, the army of Northern Virginia and the army of the + Potomac, are crouching, and about to spring. + </p> + <p> + At one o’clock the moment seems to have arrived. Along the whole front of + Hill and Longstreet, the Southern artillery all at once bursts forth. One + hundred and forty-five cannon send their threatening thunder across the + peaceful valley. From Cemetery Heights eighty pieces reply to them; and + for more than an hour these two hundred and twenty-five cannon tear the + air with their harsh roar, hurled back in crash after crash from the rocky + ramparts. That thunder is the most terrible yet heard in the war. It stirs + the coolest veterans. General Hancock, the composed and unexcitable + soldier, is going to say of it, “Their artillery fire was most + terrific...it was the most terrific cannonade I ever witnessed, and the + most prolonged.... It was a most terrific and appalling cannonade, one + possibly hardly ever equalled.” + </p> + <p> + For nearly two hours Lee continues this “terrific” fire. The Federal guns + reply—shot and shell crossing each other; racing across the blue + sky; battering the rocks; or bursting in showers of iron fragments. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the Federal fire slackens, and then ceases. Their ammunition has + run low,{1} or they are silenced by the Southern fire. Lee’s guns also + cease firing. The hour has come. + </p> + <p> + {Footnote: This was the real reason.} + </p> + <p> + The Virginians, under Pickett, form in double line in the edge of the + woods, where Lee’s centre is posted. These men are ragged and travel-worn, + but their bayonets and gun-barrels shine like silver. From the steel + hedge, as the men move, dart lightnings. + </p> + <p> + From the Cemetery Heights the enemy watch that ominous apparition—the + gray line of Virginians drawn up for the charge. + </p> + <p> + At the word, they move out, shoulder to shoulder, at common time. + Descending the slope, they enter on the valley, and move steadily toward + the heights. + </p> + <p> + The advance of the column, with its battle-flags floating proudly, and its + ranks closed up and dressed with the precision of troops on parade, is a + magnificent spectacle. Old soldiers, hardened in the fires of battle, and + not given to emotion, lean forward watching the advance of the Virginians + with fiery eyes. You would say, from the fierce clutch of the gaunt hands + on the muskets, that they wish to follow; and many wish that. + </p> + <p> + The column is midway the valley, and beginning to move more rapidly, when + suddenly the Federal artillery opens. The ranks are swept by round shot, + shell, and canister. Bloody gaps appear, but the line closes up, and + continues to advance. The fire of the Federal artillery redoubles. All the + demons of the pit seem howling, roaring, yelling, and screaming. The + assaulting column is torn by a whirlwind of canister, before which men + fall in heaps mangled, streaming with blood, their bosoms torn to pieces, + their hands clutching the grass, their teeth biting the earth. The ranks, + however, close up as before, and the Virginians continue to advance. + </p> + <p> + From common time, they have passed to quick time—now they march at + the double-quick. That is to say, they run. They have reached the slope; + the enemy’s breastworks are right before them; and they dash at them with + wild cheers. + </p> + <p> + They are still three hundred yards from the Federal works, when the real + conflict commences, to which the cannonade was but child’s play. Artillery + has thundered, but something more deadly succeeds it—the sudden + crash of musketry. From behind a stone wall the Federal infantry rise up + and pour a galling fire into the charging column. It has been accompanied + to this moment by a body of other troops, but those troops now disappear, + like dry leaves swept off by the wind. The Virginians still advance. + </p> + <p> + Amid a concentrated fire of infantry and artillery, in their front and on + both flanks, they pass over the ground between themselves and the enemy; + ascend the slope; rush headlong at the breastworks; storm them; strike + their bayonets into the enemy, who recoil before them, and a wild cheer + rises, making the blood leap in the veins of a hundred thousand men. + </p> + <p> + The Federal works are carried, and the troops are wild with enthusiasm. + With a thunder of cheers they press upon the flying enemy toward the + crest. + </p> + <p> + Alas! as the smoke drifts, they see what is enough to dishearten the + bravest. They have stormed the first line of works only! Beyond, is + another and a stronger line still. Behind it swarm the heavy reserves of + the enemy, ready for the death-struggle. But the column can not pause. It + is “do or die.” In their faces are thrust the muzzles of muskets spouting + flame. Whole ranks go down in the fire. The survivors close up, utter a + fierce cheer, and rush straight at the second tier of works. + </p> + <p> + Then is seen a spectacle which will long be remembered with a throb of the + heart by many. The thinned ranks of the Virginians are advancing, unmoved, + into the very jaws of death. They go forward—and are annihilated. At + every step death meets them. The furious fire of the enemy, on both flanks + and in their front, hurls them back, mangled and dying. The brave Garnett + is killed while leading on his men. Kemper is lying on the earth maimed + for life. Armistead is mortally wounded at the moment when he leaps upon + the breastworks:—he waves his hat on the point of his sword, and + staggers, and falls. Of fifteen field officers, fourteen have fallen. + Three-fourths of the men are dead, wounded, or prisoners. The Federal + infantry has closed in on the flanks and rear of the Virginians—whole + corps assault the handful—the little band is enveloped, and cut off + from succor—they turn and face the enemy, bayonet to bayonet, and + die. + </p> + <p> + When the smoke drifts away, all is seen to be over. It is a panting, + staggering, bleeding remnant only of the brave division that is coming + back so slowly yonder. They are swept from the fatal hill—pursued by + yells, cheers, cannon-shot, musket-balls, and canister. As they doggedly + retire before the howling hurricane, the wounded are seen to stagger and + fall. Over the dead and dying sweeps the canister. Amid volleys of + musketry and the roar of cannon, all but a handful of Pickett’s Virginians + pass into eternity. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII. — THE GREAT MOMENT OF A GREAT LIFE. + </h2> + <p> + I was gazing gloomily at the field covered with detachments limping back + amid a great whirlwind of shell, when a mounted officer rode out of the + smoke. In his right hand he carried his drawn sword—his left arm was + thrown around a wounded boy whom he supported on the pommel of his saddle. + </p> + <p> + In the cavalier I recognized General Davenant, whom I had seen near the + village of Paris, and who was now personally known to me. In the boy I + recognized the urchin, Charley, with the braided jacket and jaunty cap. + </p> + <p> + I spurred toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Your son—!” I said, and I pointed to the boy. + </p> + <p> + “He is dying I think, colonel!” was the reply in a hoarse voice. The gray + mustache trembled, and the eye of the father rested, moist but fiery, on + the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Such a child!” I said. “Could <i>he</i> have gone into the charge?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not prevent him!” came, in a groan, almost from the old cavalier. + “I forbade him, but he got a musket somewhere, and went over the + breastworks with the rest. I saw him then for the first time, and heard + him laugh and cheer. A moment afterward he was shot—I caught and + raised him up, and I have ridden back through the fire, trying to shield + him—but he is dying! Look! his wound is mortal, I think—and so + young—a mere child—never was any one braver than my poor child—!” + </p> + <p> + A groan followed the words: and bending down the old cavalier kissed the + pale cheek of the boy. + </p> + <p> + I made no reply; something seemed to choke me. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a grave voice uttered some words within a few paces of us, and I + turned quickly. It was General Lee—riding calmly amid the smoke, and + re-forming the stragglers. Never have I seen a human being more composed. + </p> + <p> + General Davenant wheeled and saluted. + </p> + <p> + “We are cut to pieces, general!” he said, with something like a fiery tear + in his eye. “We did our best, and we drove them!—but were not + supported. My brigade—my brave old brigade is gone! This is my boy—I + brought him out—but he is dying too!” + </p> + <p> + The hoarse tones and fiery tears of the old cavalier made my heart beat. I + could see a quick flush rise to the face of General Lee. He looked at the + pale face of the boy, over which the disordered curls fell, with a glance + of inexpressible sympathy and sweetness. Then stretching out his hand, he + pressed the hand of General Davenant, and said in his deep grave voice:— + </p> + <p> + “This has been a sad day for us, general—a sad day, but we cannot + expect always to gain victories. Never mind—all this has been <i>my</i> + fault. It is <i>I</i> who have lost this fight, and you must help me out + of it in the best way you can."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + As he uttered these measured words, General Lee saluted and disappeared in + the smoke. + </p> + <p> + General Davenant followed, bearing the wounded boy still upon his saddle. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes afterward, I was riding to find General Stuart, who had sent + me with a message just before the charge. + </p> + <p> + I had gloomy news for him. The battle of Gettysburg was lost. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVIII. — UNSHAKEN. + </h2> + <p> + The sun was sinking red and baleful, when I reached Stuart, beyond the + left wing of the army. + </p> + <p> + From the afternoon of the second to this night of the third of July, the + cavalry had met that of the enemy in stubborn conflict. The columns had + hurled together. General Hampton had been severely wounded in a + hand-to-hand encounter with sabres, while leading his men. Stuart had + narrowly escaped death or capture in the mêlée; and Fitz Lee had fought + hilt to hilt with the Federal horsemen, repulsing them, and coming back + laughing, as was his wont. + </p> + <p> + All these scenes I have passed over, however. The greater drama absorbed + me. The gray horsemen were fighting heroically; but what was that + encounter of sabres, when the fate of Gettysburg was being decided at + Cemetery Hill? + </p> + <p> + So I pass over all that, and hasten on now to the sequel. Memory finds few + scenes to attract it in the days that followed Gettysburg. + </p> + <p> + But I beg the reader to observe that I should have no scenes of a + humiliating character to draw. Never was army less “whipped” than that of + Lee after this fight! Do you doubt that statement, reader? Do you think + that the Southerners were a disordered rabble, flying before the Federal + bayonets? a flock of panic-stricken sheep, hurrying back to the Potomac, + with the bay of the Federal war-dogs in their ears? + </p> + <p> + That idea—entertained by a number of our Northern friends—is + entirely fanciful. + </p> + <p> + Lee’s army was not even shaken. It was fagged, hungry, out of ammunition, + and it retired,—but not until it had remained for twenty-four hours + in line of battle in front of the enemy, perfectly careless of, even + inviting, attack. + </p> + <p> + “I should have liked nothing better than to have been attacked,” said + Longstreet, “and have no doubt I should have given those who tried, as bad + a reception as Pickett received."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + It may be said that this is the boast of the defeated side. But General + Meade, when interrogated before the war committee, stated the exact facts. + </p> + <p> + “My opinion is now,” said Meade “that General Lee evacuated that position, + not from the fear that he would be dislodged from it by any active + operations on my part, but that he was fearful a force would be sent to + Harper’s Ferry to cut off his communications.... That was what caused him + to retire.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you discover,” asked one of the committee, “after the battle of + Gettysburg, any symptoms of demoralization in Lee’s army?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” was General Meade’s reply, “I saw nothing of that kind."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: General Meade’s testimony may be found in the Report on the + Conduct of the War. Part I., p. 337.} + </p> + <p> + That statement was just, and General Meade was too much of a gentleman and + soldier to withhold it. He knew that his great adversary was still + unshaken and dangerous—that the laurels snatched on Round Top and + Cemetery Heights might turn to cypress, if the wounded lion were assailed + in his own position. + </p> + <p> + After the repulse of Pickett’s column on the third of July, Lee had the + choice of two courses—to either attack again or retire. Meade was + evidently determined to remain on the defensive. To engage him, Lee must + once more charge the Cemetery Heights. But a third failure might be + ruinous; the Confederate ammunition was nearly exhausted; the + communications with the Potomac were threatened,—and Lee determined + to retire. + </p> + <p> + That is the true history of the matter. + </p> + <p> + The force which fell back before Meade was an army of veterans, with + unshaken nerves. It required only a glance to see that these men were + still dangerous. They were ready to fight again, and many raged at the + retreat. Like Lee’s “old war horse,” they were anxious to try another + struggle, to have the enemy return the compliment, and come over to charge + <i>them</i>! + </p> + <p> + Then commenced that singular retreat. + </p> + <p> + The trains retired in a long line stretching over many miles, by the + Chambersburg road, while the army marched by the shorter route, between + the trains and the enemy, ready to turn and tear the blue huntsmen if they + attempted to pursue. + </p> + <p> + So the famous army of Northern Virginia—great in defeat as in + victory—took its slow way back toward the soil of Virginia. Never + was spectacle stranger than that retreat from Gettysburg. The badly + wounded had been sent with the army trains; but many insisted upon keeping + their places in the ranks. There was something grim and terrible in these + bandaged arms, and faces, and forms of Lee’s old soldiers—but you + did not think of that as you looked into their pale faces. What struck you + in those eyes and lips was the fire, and the smile of an unconquerable + courage. Never had I witnessed resolution more splendid and invincible. In + the ragged foot soldiers of the old army I could see plainly the evidences + of a nerve which no peril could shake. Was it race—or the cause—or + confidence, through all, in Lee? I know not, but it was there. These men + were utterly careless whether the enemy followed them or not. They were + retreating unsubdued. The terrible scenes through which they had passed, + the sights of horror, the ghastly wounds, the blood, agony, death of the + last few days had passed away from their memories; and they went along + with supreme indifference, ready to fight at any moment, and certain that + they could whip any enemy who assailed them. + </p> + <p> + General Meade did not attempt that. He kept Lee at arm’s-length, and + followed so slowly that the civilians were in enormous wrath, and looked + <i>*de haut en bas</i> on him—on this timid soldier who had not cut + Lee to pieces. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: MEETING OF GENERALS LEE AND DAVENANT.} + </p> + <p> + Between Meade, however, and the bold civilians, there was this enormous + difference. The soldier knew the mettle of the man and the army retiring + from Gettysburg. The civilians did not. Meade retained the fruits of his + victory over Lee. The civilians would have lost them. + </p> + <p> + At Williamsport, Lee halted and drew up his army in line of battle. The + Potomac, swollen by rains, presented an impassable obstacle. + </p> + <p> + Meade, following slowly, was met at every step by Stuart’s cavalry; but + finally faced his adversary. + </p> + <p> + Every thing presaged a great battle, and Lee’s cannon from the hills south + of Hagerstown laughed, + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” + </p> + <p> + But General Meade did not come. Lee, standing at bay with the army of + Northern Virginia, was a formidable adversary, and the Federal commander + had little desire to charge the Confederates as they had charged him at + Gettysburg—in position. + </p> + <p> + Day after day the adversaries remained in line of battle facing each + other. + </p> + <p> + Lee neither invited nor declined battle. + </p> + <p> + At last the Potomac subsided: Lee put his army in motion, and crossing on + a pontoon at Falling Waters took up his position on the south bank of the + river. + </p> + <p> + Stuart followed, bringing up the rear with his cavalry column; and the + whole army was once more on the soil of Virginia. + </p> + <p> + They had come back after a great march and a great battle. + </p> + <p> + The march carried their flags to the south bank of the Susquehanna; the + battle resulted in their retreat to the south bank of the Potomac. Thus + nothing had been gained, and nothing lost. But alas! the South had counted + on a great and decisive victory. When Lee failed to snatch that from the + bloody heights of Gettysburg—when, for want of ammunition, and to + guard his communications, he returned to the Potomac—then the people + began to lose heart, and say that, since the death of Jackson, the cause + was lost. + </p> + <p> + Gettysburg in fact is the turning point of the struggle. From that day + dated the decadence of the Southern arms. + </p> + <p> + At Chancellorsville, the ascending steps of victory culminated—and + stopped. + </p> + <p> + At Gettysburg, the steps began to descend into the valley of defeat, and + the shadow of death. + </p> + <p> + What I shall show the reader in this final series of my memoirs, is Lee + and his paladins—officers and privates of the old army of Northern + Virginia—fighting on to the end, true in defeat as in victory, in + the dark days as in the bright—closing up the thin ranks, and + standing by the colors to the last. + </p> + <p> + That picture may be gloomy—but it will be sublime, too. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II. — THE FLOWER OF CAVALIERS. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. — UNDER “STUART’S OAK.” + </h2> + <p> + Crossing to the south bank of the Potomac, Stuart established his + headquarters at “The Bower,” an old mansion on the Opequon. + </p> + <p> + The family at the ancient hall were Stuart’s cherished friends, and our + appearance now, with the red flag floating and the bugle sounding a gay + salute as we ascended the hill, was hailed with enthusiasm and rejoicing. + </p> + <p> + All at the “Bower,” loved Stuart; they love him to-day; and will love him + always. + </p> + <p> + His tents were pitched on a grassy knoll in the extensive grounds, beneath + some ancient oaks resembling those seen in English parks. It was a + charming spot. Through the openings in the summer foliage you saw the old + walls of the hall. At the foot of the hill, the Opequon stole away, around + the base of a fir-clad precipice, its right bank lined with immense + white-armed sycamores. Beyond, extended a range of hills: and in the far + west, the North Mountain mingled its azure billows with the blue of the + summer sky. + </p> + <p> + Such was the beautiful landscape which greeted our eyes: such the spot to + which the winds of war had wafted us. Good old “Bower,” and good days + there! How well I remember you! After the long, hard march, and the + incessant fighting, it was charming to settle down for a brief space in + this paradise—to listen idly to the murmur of the Opequon, or the + voice of the summer winds amid the foliage of the century oaks! + </p> + <p> + The great tree on the grassy knoll, under which Stuart erected his own + tent, is called “Stuart’s Oak” to this day. No axe will ever harm it, I + hope; gold could not purchase it; for tender hearts cherish the gnarled + trunk and huge boughs, as a souvenir of the great soldier whom it + sheltered in that summer of 1863. + </p> + <p> + So we were anchored for a little space, and enjoyed keenly the repose of + this summer nook on the Opequon. Soon the bugle would sound again, and new + storms would buffet us; meanwhile, we laughed and sang, snatching the + bloom of the peaceful hours, inhaling the odors, listening to the birds, + and idly dreaming. + </p> + <p> + For myself, I had more dreams than the rest of the gray people there! The + Bower was not a strange place to me. My brethren of the staff used to + laugh, and say that, wherever we went, in Virginia, I found kins-people. I + found near and dear ones at the old house on the Opequon; and a hundred + spots which recalled my lost youth. Every object carried me back to the + days that are dead. The blue hills, the stream, the great oaks, and the + hall smiled on me. How familiar the portraits, and wide fireplaces, and + deers’ antlers. The pictures of hawking scenes, with ladies and gentlemen + in the queerest costumes; the engravings of famous race-horses, hanging + between guns, bird-bags and fishing-rods in the wide hall—these were + not mere dead objects, but old and long-loved acquaintances. I had known + them in my childhood; looked with delight upon them in my boyhood; now + they seemed to salute me, murmuring—“Welcome! you remember us!” + </p> + <p> + Thus the hall, the grounds, the pictures, the most trifling object brought + back to me, in that summer of 1863, a hundred memories of the years that + had flown. Years of childhood and youth, of mirth and joy, such as we felt + before war had come to harass us; when I swam in the Opequon, or roamed + the hills, looking into bright eyes, where life was so fresh and so young. + The “dew was on the blossom” then, the flower in the bud. Now the bloom + had passed away, and the dew dried up in the hot war-atmosphere. It was a + worn and weary soldier who came back to the scenes of his youth. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, as I mused thus, dreaming idly under the great oak which + sheltered me, I heard a voice from Stuart’s tent, sending its sonorous + music on the air. It was the great cavalier singing lustily— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The dew is on the blossom!” + </pre> + <p> + At all hours of the day you could hear that gay voice. Stuart’s + headquarters were full of the most mirthful sounds and sights. The knoll + was alive with picturesque forms. The horses, tethered to the boughs, + champed their bits and pawed impatiently. The bright saddle-blankets shone + under the saddles covered with gay decorations. Young officers with + clanking sabres and rattling spurs moved to and fro. In front of the + head-quarters tent the red battle-flag caught the sunshine in its dazzling + folds. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, a new charm is added to the picturesque scene. Maiden figures + advance over the grassy lawn; bright eyes glimmer; glossy ringlets are + lifted by the fingers of the wind; tinkling laughter is heard;—and + over all rings the wild sonorous music of the bugle! + </p> + <p> + The days pass rapidly thus. The nights bring merriment, not sleep. The + general goes with his staff to the hospitable mansion, and soon the great + drawing-room is full of music and laughter. The song, the dance, the + rattling banjo follow. The long hours flit by like a flock of summer + birds, and Sweeney, our old friend Sweeney, is the king of the revel. + </p> + <p> + For Sweeney rattles as before on his banjo; and the “Old Gray Horse” + flourishes still in imperishable youth! It is the same old Sweeney, with + his mild and deferential courtesy, his obliging smile, his unapproachable + skill in “picking on the string.” Listen! his voice rings again as in the + days of ‘61 and ‘62. He is singing still “Oh Johnny Booker, help this + nigger!” “Stephen, come back, come back, Stephen!” “Out of the window I + did sail!” “Sweet Evelina,” and the grand, magnificent epic which advises + you to “Jine the Cavalry!” + </p> + <p> + Hagan listens to him yonder with a twinkle of the eye—Hagan the + black-bearded giant, the brave whose voice resembles thunder, the devotee + and factotum of Stuart, whom he loves. And Sweeney rattles on. You laugh + loud as you listen. The banjo laughs louder than all, and the great + apartment is full of uproar, and mirth, and dance. + </p> + <p> + Then the couples sink back exhausted; a deep silence follows; Sweeney has + made you laugh, and is now going to make you sigh. Listen! You can + scarcely believe that the singer is the same person who has just been + rattling through the “Old Gray Horse.” Sweeney is no longer mirthful; his + voice sighs instead of laughing. He is singing his tender and exquisite + “Faded Flowers.” He is telling you in tones as soft as the sigh of the + wind in the great oaks, how + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The cold, chilly winds of December, + Stole my flowers, my companions from me!” + </pre> + <p> + Alas! the cold, chilly winds of the coming winter will blow over the grave + of the prince of musicians! Sweeney, the pride and charm of the cavalry + head-quarters, is going to pass away, and leave his comrades and his banjo + forever! + </p> + <p> + You would say that the future throws its shadow on the present. Sweeney’s + tones are so sweet and sorrowful, that many eyes grow moist—like + Rubini, he “has tears in his voice.” The melting strains ascend and sigh + through the old hall. When they die away like a wind in the distance, the + company remain silent, plunged in sad and dreamy revery. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Stuart starts up and exclaims:— + </p> + <p> + “Stop that, Sweeney! you will make everybody die of the blues. Sing the + ‘Old Gray Horse’ again, or ‘Jine the Cavalry!’” + </p> + <p> + Sweeney smiles and obeys. Then, the gay song ended, he commences a reel. + The banjo laughs; his flying fingers race over the strings; youths and + maidens whirl from end to end of the great room—on the walls the + “old people” in ruffles and short-waisted dresses, look down smiling on + their little descendants! + </p> + <p> + O gay summer nights on the banks of the Opequon! you have flown, but + linger still in memory! + </p> + <p> + In the autumn of 1867, I revisited the old hall where those summer days of + 1863 had passed in mirth and enjoyment; and then I wandered away to the + grassy knoll where “Stuart’s oak” still stands. The sight of the great + tree brought back a whole world of memories. Seated on one of its huge + roots, beneath the dome of foliage just touched by the finger of autumn, I + seemed to see all the past rise up again and move before me, with its + gallant figures, its bright scenes, and brighter eyes. Alas! those days + were dust, and Stuart sang and laughed no more. The grass was green again, + and the birds were singing; but no martial forms moved there, no + battle-flag rippled, no voice was heard. Stuart was dead;—his sword + rusting under the dry leaves of Hollywood, and his battle-flag was furled + forever. + </p> + <p> + That hour under the old oak, in the autumn of 1867, was one of the saddest + that I have ever spent. + </p> + <p> + The hall was there as before; the clouds floated, the stream murmured, the + wind sighed in the great tree, as when Stuart’s tent shone under it. But + the splendor had vanished, the laughter was hushed—it was a company + of ghosts that gathered around me, and their faint voices sounded from + another world! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. — BACK TO THE RAPIDAN. + </h2> + <p> + But this is a book of incident, worthy reader. We have little time for + musing recollections. The halts are brief; the bugle is sounding to horse; + events drag us, and we are again in the saddle. + </p> + <p> + Those gay hours on the Opequon were too agreeable to last. The old hall + was a sort of oasis in the desert of war only. We paused for an instant; + rested under the green trees; heard the murmur of the waters—then + the caravan moved, breasting the arid wastes once more, and the coming + simoom. + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s head-quarters disappeared—we bade our kind friends good-bye—and, + mounting, set out for the Lowland, whither Lee’s column was then marching. + </p> + <p> + The short lull had been succeeded by new activity. Meade was advancing + along the east slope of the Blue Ridge to cut Lee off from Richmond. But + the adventure succeeded no better now than in 1862. Meade failed, as + McClellan had failed before him. + </p> + <p> + The army passed the Blue Ridge; drove back the force sent to assail them + in flank as they moved; and descended to Culpeper, from which they + withdrew behind the Rapidan. Here Lee took up his position, crowned the + south bank with his artillery, and, facing General Meade, occupying the + north bank, rested. + </p> + <p> + Such had been the result of the great campaign, in its merely military + aspect. + </p> + <p> + Lee had invaded the North, delivered battle on the territory of the enemy, + suffered a repulse, retired, and was again occupying nearly the same + ground which he had occupied before the advance. Moving backward and + forward on the great chessboard of war, the two adversaries seemed to have + gained or lost nothing. The one was not flushed with victory; the other + was not prostrated by defeat. Each went into camp, ceased active + operations, and prepared for the new conflict which was to take place + before the end of the year. + </p> + <p> + I shall record some incidents of that rapid and shifting campaign, + beginning and ending in the month of October; then I pass on to the more + important and exciting pages of my memoirs: the mighty struggle between + Lee and Grant. + </p> + <p> + To return for a moment to the cavalry. It held the front along the Rapidan + and Robertson rivers, from Madison Court-House on the left, to + Chancellorsville on the right. Stuart kept his lynx-eye on all the fords + of the two rivers, having his head-quarters in the forks of the streams + not far from their junction. + </p> + <p> + I should like to speak of the charming hours spent at the hospitable + mansion near which head-quarters had been established. The sun shone + bright, at the house on the grassy hill, but not so bright as the eyes + which gave us friendly welcome. Years have passed since that time—all + things have changed—but neither time or the new scenes will banish + from some hearts the memory of that beautiful face, and the music of that + voice! We salute to-day as we saluted in the past—health and + happiness attend the fair face and the kindly heart! + </p> + <p> + I saw much of Mohun in those days, and became in course of time almost his + intimate friend. He exhibited still a marked reserve on the subject of his + past life: but I thought I could see that the ice was melting. Day by day + he grew gayer—gradually his cynicism seemed leaving him. Who was + this singular man, and what was his past history? I often asked myself + these questions—he persisted in giving me no clue to the secret—but + I felt a presentiment that some day I should “pluck out the heart of his + mystery.” + </p> + <p> + So much, in passing, for my relations with Mohun. We had begun to be + friends, and the chance of war was going to throw us together often. I had + caught one or two glimpses of a past full of “strange matters”—in + the hours that were coming I was to have every mystery revealed. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Lee was resting, but preparing for another blow. His army was in + the highest spirits. The camps buzzed, and laughed, and were full of + mirth. Gettysburg was forgotten, or if remembered, it only served to + inflame the troops, and inspire them with a passionate desire to “try + again.” In the blaze of a new victory, the old defeat would disappear. + </p> + <p> + Such was the condition of things in the army of Northern Virginia in the + first days of October, 1863. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. — THE OPENING OF THE HUNT. + </h2> + <p> + It soon became obvious that Lee had resolved to strike a blow at his + adversary. + </p> + <p> + How to do so with advantage seemed a hard problem. Between the opponents + lay the Rapidan, which would be an ugly obstacle in the path of an army + retreating after defeat—and the same considerations which deterred + General Meade from attacking Lee, operated to prevent a like movement on + the part of his adversary. + </p> + <p> + Thus an advance of the Southern army on the enemy’s front was far too + hazardous to be thought of—and the only course left was to assail + their flank. This could either be done by crossing lower down, and cutting + the enemy off from the Rappahannock, or crossing higher up, and cutting + him off from Manassas. Lee determined on the latter—and in a bright + morning early in October the great movement began. + </p> + <p> + Leaving Fitz Lee’s cavalry and a small force of infantry in the works on + the Rapidan fronting the enemy, General Lee put his columns in motion for + the upper fords. + </p> + <p> + The men hailed the movement with cheers of delight. As they wound along, + with glittering bayonets, through the hills and across the river, you + could easily see that the old army of Northern Virginia was still in full + feather—that Gettysburg had not shaken it—and that Lee could + count on it for new campaigns and harder combats than any in the past. + </p> + <p> + The head of the column was directed toward Madison Court-House, which + would enable Lee either to advance directly upon the enemy’s flank by the + Sperryville road, or continue his flank movement, pass the Rappahannock, + and cut off his opponent from Washington. + </p> + <p> + The advance was an inspiring spectacle. The weather was magnificent, and + the crimson foliage of the wood rivalled the tints of the red + battle-flags, fluttering above the long glittering hedge of bayonets. + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s cavalry had moved out on the right flank to protect the column + from the observation of the enemy. The campaign of October, 1863, had + opened. + </p> + <p> + It was to be one of the briefest, but most adventurous movements of the + war. Deciding little, it was yet rich in incident and dramatic scenes. A + brilliant comedy, as it were—just tinged with tragedy—was that + rapid and shifting <i>raid</i> of Lee’s whole army, on Meade. Blood, + jests, laughter, mourning—these were strangely mingled, in the + cavalry movements at least: and to these I proceed. + </p> + <p> + From the heights, whence you see only the “great events,” the movements of + armies, and the decisive battles, let us now descend into the lowland, + good reader. I will lay before you some incidents, not to be found in the + “official reports;” and I promise to carry you on rapidly! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. — THE GAME A-FOOT. + </h2> + <p> + It was a magnificent morning of October, + </p> + <p> + Stuart leaped to saddle, and, preceded by his red flag rippling gayly in + the wind, set out from his head-quarters in the direction of the + mountains. + </p> + <p> + He was entering on his last great cavalry campaign—and it was to be + one of his most successful and splendid. + </p> + <p> + The great soldier, as he advanced that morning, was the beau ideal of a + cavalier. His black plume floated proudly; his sabre rattled; his eyes + danced with joy; his huge mustache curled with laughter; his voice was + gay, sonorous, full of enjoyment of life, health, the grand autumn, and + the adventurous and splendid scenes which his imagination painted. On his + brow he seemed already to feel the breath of victory. + </p> + <p> + It was rather an immense war-machine, than a man which I looked at on that + morning of October, 1863. Grand physical health, a perfectly fearless + soul, the keenest thirst for action, a stubborn dash which nothing could + break down—all this could be seen in the face and form of Stuart, as + he advanced to take command of his column that day. + </p> + <p> + On the next morning at daylight he had struck the enemy. + </p> + <p> + Their outposts of cavalry, supported by infantry, were at Thoroughfare + Mountain, a small range above the little village of James City. Here + Stuart came suddenly upon them, and drove in their pickets:—a moment + afterward he was galloping forward with the gayety of a huntsman after a + fox. + </p> + <p> + A courier came to meet him from the advance guard, riding at full gallop. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said Stuart. + </p> + <p> + “A regiment of infantry, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Yonder in the gap.” + </p> + <p> + And he pointed to a gorge in the little mountain before us. + </p> + <p> + Stuart wheeled and beckoned to Gordon, the brave North Carolinian, who had + made the stubborn charge at Barbee’s, in 1862, when Pelham was attacked, + front and rear, by the Federal cavalry. + </p> + <p> + “We have flushed a regiment of infantry, Gordon. Can you break them?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can, general.” + </p> + <p> + The handsome face of the soldier glowed—his bright eyes flashed. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Get ready, then, to attack in front. I will take Young, and + strike them at the same moment on the right flank!” + </p> + <p> + With which words Stuart went at a gallop and joined Young. + </p> + <p> + That gay and gallant Georgian was at the head of his column; in his + sparkling eyes, and the smile which showed the white teeth under the black + mustache, I saw the same expression of reckless courage which I had + noticed on the day of Fleetwood, when the young Georgian broke the column + on the hill. + </p> + <p> + Stuart explained his design in three words:— + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready?” + </p> + <p> + “All ready, general!” + </p> + <p> + And Young’s sabre flashed from the scabbard. + </p> + <p> + At the same instant the crash of carbines in front, indicated Gordon’s + charge. + </p> + <p> + Young darted to the head of his column. + </p> + <p> + “Charge!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + And leading the column, he descended like a thunderbolt on the enemy’s + flank. + </p> + <p> + As he did so, Gordon’s men rushed with wild cheers into the gorge. Shouts, + carbine-shots, musket-shots, yells resounded. In five minutes the Federal + infantry, some three hundred in number, were scattered in headlong flight, + leaving the ground strewed with new muskets, whose barrels shone like + burnished silver. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” Stuart exclaimed, as long lines of prisoners appeared, going to + the rear, “a fair beginning, at least!” + </p> + <p> + And he rode on rapidly. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. — THE CHASE. + </h2> + <p> + The cavalry pressed forward without halting and reached the hills above + James City—a magniloquent name, but the “city” was a small affair—a + mere village nestling down amid an amphitheatre of hills. + </p> + <p> + On the opposite range we saw the enemy’s cavalry drawn up; and, as we + afterward learned, commanded by General Kilpatrick. + </p> + <p> + They presented a handsome spectacle in the gay autumn sunshine; but we did + not attack them. Stuart’s orders were to protect the march of Ewell from + observation; and this he accomplished by simply holding the Federal + cavalry at arm’s-length. So a demonstration only was made. Skirmishers + advanced, and engaged the enemy. The whole day thus passed in apparent + failure to drive the Federals. + </p> + <p> + A single incident marked the day. Stuart had taken his position, with his + staff and couriers, on a hill. Here, with his battle-flag floating, he + watched the skirmishers,—and then gradually, the whole party, + stretched on the grass, began to doze. + </p> + <p> + They were to have a rude waking. I was lying, holding my bridle, half + asleep, when an earthquake seemed to open beneath me. A crash like thunder + accompanied it. I rose quickly, covered with dust. A glance explained the + whole. The enemy had directed a gun upon the tempting group over which the + flag rose, and the percussion-shell had fallen and burst in our midst. + </p> + <p> + Strangest of all, no one was hurt. + </p> + <p> + Stuart laughed, and mounted his horse. + </p> + <p> + “A good shot!” he said, “look at Surry’s hat!” which, on examination, I + found covered half an inch deep with earth. + </p> + <p> + In fact, the shell had burst within three feet of my head—was a + “line shot,” and with a little more elevation, would have just reached me. + Then, exit Surry! in a most unmilitary manner, by the bursting of a + percussion-shell. + </p> + <p> + At nightfall the enemy was still in position, and Stuart had not advanced. + </p> + <p> + We spent the night at a farm-house, and were in the saddle again at dawn. + </p> + <p> + The hills opposite were deserted. The enemy had retreated. Stuart pushed + on their track down the Sperryville road, passed the village of + Griffinsburg, and near Stonehouse Mountain came on, and pushed them + rapidly back on Culpeper Court-House. + </p> + <p> + All at once quick firing was heard on our right. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” Stuart asked. + </p> + <p> + “An infantry regiment, general!” said Weller, one of our couriers, + galloping quickly up. + </p> + <p> + The words acted upon Stuart like the blow of a sword. A wild excitement + seemed to seize him. + </p> + <p> + “Bring up a squadron!” he shouted—for we were riding ahead without + support; “bring up the cavalry! I am going to charge! Bring me a + squadron!” + </p> + <p> + And drawing his sword, Stuart rushed at full gallop, alone and unattended, + toward the Federal infantry, whose gun-barrels were seen glittering in the + woods. + </p> + <p> + Never had I seen him more excited. He was plainly on fire with the idea of + capturing the whole party. + </p> + <p> + The staff scattered to summon the cavalry, and soon a company came on at + full gallop. It was the “Jefferson Company,” under that brave officer, + Captain George Baylor. + </p> + <p> + “Charge, and cut them down!” shouted Stuart, his drawn sword flashing as + he forced his horse over fallen trees and the debris of the great deserted + camp. + </p> + <p> + A fine spectacle followed. As the Federal infantry double-quicked up a + slope, Baylor charged. + </p> + <p> + As his men darted upon them, they suddenly halted, came to a front-face, + and the long line of gun-barrels fell, as though they were parts of some + glittering war-machine. + </p> + <p> + The muzzles spouted flame, and the cavalry received the fire at thirty + yards. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to check them, but it did not. They had come to an impassable + ditch. In another moment, the infantry broke, every man for himself, and + making a detour, the cavalry pursued, and captured large numbers. + </p> + <p> + For the second time Stuart had charged infantry and broken them. Pushing + on now through the great deserted camps of Stonehouse Mountain, he + descended upon Culpeper. + </p> + <p> + The enemy’s cavalry retreated, made a stand on the hills beyond, with + their artillery; and seemed to have resolved to retreat no farther. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the thunder of artillery came up from the Rapidan. I was sitting + my horse near Stuart and Gordon. They were both laughing—indeed, + Stuart seemed laughing throughout the campaign. + </p> + <p> + “That is Fitz Lee!” he said; “he has crossed and driven them.” + </p> + <p> + And turning round,— + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would go to General Lee, Surry—you will find him toward + Griffinsburg—and tell him we are driving the enemy, and Fitz Lee + seems to be coming up.” + </p> + <p> + I saluted, and left the two generals laughing as before. + </p> + <p> + In half an hour I had found General Lee. He was in camp on the Sperryville + road, and was talking to Ewell. + </p> + <p> + It was a singular contrast. Lee, robust, ruddy, erect, with his large + frank eye—Ewell, slight, emaciated, pale, with small piercing eyes, + and limping on his crutch. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, colonel,” General Lee said, with his grave but charming + courtesy; “tell General Stuart to continue to press them back toward the + river.” + </p> + <p> + And turning to Ewell:— + </p> + <p> + “You had better move on with your command, general,” he said, in his + measured voice. + </p> + <p> + Ewell bowed and turned to obey—I returned to Stuart. + </p> + <p> + He was pushing the Federal cavalry “from pillar to post.” Driven back from + the hill, where they had planted their artillery, they had retreated on + Brandy; Stuart had followed like a fate; Gordon, sent round to the left, + struck their right flank with his old sabreurs; Fitz Lee, coming up on the + right, thundered down on their left—and in the woods around Brandy + took place one of those cavalry combats which, as my friends, the + novelists say, “must be seen to be appreciated!” If the reader will + imagine, in the dusk of evening, a grand hurly-burly made up of smoke, + dust, blood, yells, clashing swords, banging carbines, thundering cannon, + and wild cheers, he will have a faint idea of that “little affair” at + Brandy. + </p> + <p> + A queer circumstance made this fight irresistibly comic. + </p> + <p> + Fitz Lee had repulsed Buford on the Rapidan; followed him on his retreat, + harassing him at every step—when, just as Buford reached Brandy, + with Fitz Lee at his heels, Kilpatrick descended on Fitz Lee’s rear by the + Sperryville road, and Stuart thundered down on <i>his</i>! + </p> + <p> + Thus Fitz Lee was pursuing Buford; Kilpatrick, Fitz Lee; and Stuart, + Kilpatrick! It was a grand and comic jumble—except that it came very + near being any thing but comic to that joyous cavalier, “General Fitz,” as + we called him—caught as he was between Generals Buford and + Kilpatrick! + </p> + <p> + General Fitz was the man for a “tight place,” however—and “his + people,” as he called his cavalry, soon cut through to Stuart. + </p> + <p> + It was a tough and heavy fight. + </p> + <p> + “Old Jeb cut off more than he could <i>chaw</i>, that time!” said a + veteran afterward, in describing the fight. And at one time it seemed that + the enemy were going to hold their ground. + </p> + <p> + Fleetwood, beyond, was lined with bayonets, and every knoll was crowned + with cannon: when night fell, however, the whole force had retreated and + crossed the Rappahannock, leaving the ground strewed with their dead and + wounded. + </p> + <p> + In the dusky woods near Brandy, Stuart sat his horse, looking toward the + Rappahannock, and laughing still. He was talking with brave Fitz Lee, + whose stout figure, flowing beard, and eyes twinkling with humor, were + plain in the starlight. I shall show you that gallant figure more than + once in this volume, reader. You had but to look at him to see that he was + the bravest of soldiers, and the best of comrades. + </p> + <p> + So night fell on a victory. Stuart had driven the enemy at every step. He + had charged their infantry, cavalry, and artillery, routing all,—and + he was once more in sight of Fleetwood Hill, where he had defeated them in + the preceding June. + </p> + <p> + Singular current of war! It used to bear us onward; but be taken with a + sudden fancy to flow back to the old spots! See Manassas, Fredericksburg, + Cold Harbor, Chancellorsville! + </p> + <p> + Fleetwood takes its place with them—twice bloody and memorable. In + sight of it took place two of Stuart’s hardest combats—and both were + victories. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. — THE RUSE. + </h2> + <p> + By sunrise Stuart was pushing rapidly up the bank of the Rappahannock + toward Warrenton Springs. + </p> + <p> + Meade had retreated from Culpeper, and was falling back rapidly. Lee was + pressing on to cut him off in the vicinity of Auburn. + </p> + <p> + A hot fight took place at Jeffersonton, a little village beyond Hazel + River; and here the enemy fought from house to house, but finally + retreated. + </p> + <p> + Stuart followed, and came up with their rear retreating over the bridge at + Warrenton Springs. + </p> + <p> + On the northern bank the Federal sharp-shooters were posted in double + line. + </p> + <p> + Stuart turned, and saw, not far from him, the Jefferson Company who had + charged so gallantly at Stonehouse Mountain. A movement of his hand, and + they were charging over the bridge. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly they recoiled. The head files had stopped,—the horses + rearing. The flooring in the centre of the bridge had been torn up—it + was impossible to cross. + </p> + <p> + The men wheeled and came back under a hot fire of sharp-shooters. Stuart’s + face was fiery. + </p> + <p> + “To the ford!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + And placing himself in front of the men, sword in hand, he led them + through the ford, in face of a heavy fire, charged up the opposite slope, + and the Federal skirmishers scattered in wild flight. + </p> + <p> + The Twelfth Virginia Cavalry followed them, and they were cut down or + captured. + </p> + <p> + As the column moved on, Stuart galloped along the line toward the front. + </p> + <p> + He had just faced death with these men, and at sight of him they raised a + cheer. + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah for old Jeb!” rose in a shout from the column. + </p> + <p> + Stuart turned: his face glowed: rising in his stirrups, he took off his + hat and exclaimed:—- + </p> + <p> + “Bully for the old Twelfth!” + </p> + <p> + The words were unclassic, it may be, reader, but they raised a storm. + </p> + <p> + “I felt like I could die for old Jeb after that,” one of the men said to + me. + </p> + <p> + Stuart disappeared, followed by tumultuous cheers, and his column + continued to advance upon Warrenton ahead of the army. He had ridden on + for a quarter of an hour, when he turned to me, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “I am getting uneasy about things at Culpeper. I wish you would ride back + to Rosser, who is there with two hundred men, and tell him to call on + Young, if he is pushed.” I turned my horse. + </p> + <p> + “You know where Young is?” + </p> + <p> + “On the Sperryville road.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly—Rosser can count on him. I am going on toward Warrenton.” + </p> + <p> + And the general and myself parted, riding in opposite directions. + </p> + <p> + I returned toward Hazel River; passed that stream, and the long rows of + army wagons; and as the sun was sinking, drew near Culpeper. + </p> + <p> + As I pressed on, I heard the long thunder of cannon coming up from the + direction of Brandy. + </p> + <p> + What could that sound mean? Had the enemy again advanced and assailed the + small force of cavalry there? + </p> + <p> + Going on now at full speed, I heard the cannon steadily approaching + Culpeper Court-House. All at once, as I drew near the village, I heard a + tremendous clatter in the streets; a column of cavalry was advancing to + the front—soon the crack of carbines was heard beyond the town. + </p> + <p> + A short ride brought me to the field, and all was explained. Colonel + Rosser had been attacked by a whole corps of Federal infantry, and two + divisions of cavalry—while his own force was about two hundred men, + and a single gun. + </p> + <p> + He had offered an obstinate resistance, however, fallen back slowly, and + when about to be driven into the town, Young had come to his aid. + </p> + <p> + Then followed one of the gayest comedies of the war. Young was the author + of it. You laugh sometimes still, do you not, old comrade, at the trick + you played our friends on that October evening? + </p> + <p> + Young threw himself into the fight with the true cavalry élan. Dismounting + his whole brigade, he opened a rapid fire on the advancing enemy; and this + obstinate resistance evidently produced a marked effect upon their + imaginations. They had been advancing—they now paused. They had been + full of audacity, and now seemed fearful of some trap. It was evident that + they suspected the presence of a heavy force of infantry—and night + having descended, they halted. + </p> + <p> + This was the signal for the fifth act of the comedy. Young kindled + camp-fires along two miles of front; brought up his brass band and played + “The Bonnie Blue Flag,” and “Dixie.” It was obvious to the enemy that at + least a corps of Lee’s infantry was there in their front, ready to renew + the action at dawn! + </p> + <p> + The finale was comic—I shared the blankets of the gallant Georgian + that night—when we rose the enemy’s whole force had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Such had been the result of the ruse, and I always regarded the affair as + one of the gayest incidents of the war. + </p> + <p> + When I left the brave Young, he was laughing in triumph. + </p> + <p> + If your eye meets this page, old comrade, it may give you another laugh—and + laughter is something in this dull epoch, is it not? + </p> + <p> + But whether you laugh or sigh, and wherever you may be, health and + happiness attend you! + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon, I was at Warrenton. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. — STUART CAUGHT IN THE TRAP. + </h2> + <p> + I found the general moving toward Auburn, on a reconnoissance. + </p> + <p> + Meade had been delayed much by uncertainty as to his adversary’s designs—had + scarcely advanced beyond the Rappahannock—and the object of Stuart + was to discover his position and intentions. + </p> + <p> + That was the work always assigned to the “Eyes and Ears” of the army + Stuart’s cavalry; and the stout cavalier, now at the head of his column, + was on for the railroad, along which the enemy must retreat. + </p> + <p> + Another comedy was to follow—which came near being a tragedy. + </p> + <p> + Stuart steadily advanced, and about sunset had passed Auburn, when, as he + was riding at the head of his column, a messenger rode up hastily from + Gordon, holding the rear. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said Stuart. + </p> + <p> + “The enemy are in your rear, general!” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “General Gordon sent me to say so.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart turned and galloped back. Gordon came to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “The Yankee army are in our rear, general,” said Gordon. “Come, and I will + show you.” + </p> + <p> + And riding to an eminence he pointed out across the fields, in the + gathering gloom, long lines of infantry and artillery moving toward + Manassas. + </p> + <p> + Stuart gazed at them keenly. As he sat looking toward them, a staff + officer from the front came up rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, captain!” + </p> + <p> + “The enemy are in front, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Infantry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, with artillery.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart looked at Gordon. + </p> + <p> + “A real trap,” he said coolly, knitting his brows. + </p> + <p> + “Have they seen you, Gordon?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I think not, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so far all is well. There is nothing to do but to lay low, and take + the chances of getting out.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s voice was never cooler. He looked quietly at the huge column + cutting off his retreat. + </p> + <p> + “A splendid chance to attack them!” he all at once exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + And tearing a leaf out of his dispatch-book, he wrote a hasty note to + General Lee. I afterward knew what it contained. Stuart described his + situation, and proposed that Rodes, then near Warrenton, should attack at + dawn—when he would open with his artillery, charge with his + horsemen, and cut his way out. + </p> + <p> + “A good man in blue uniform now, Gordon.” + </p> + <p> + Gordon sent off an aid, and the man soon appeared. From top to toe he was + of irreproachable blue; and he listened keenly to his instructions. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes afterward he had dismounted, given his horse to a comrade, + and was stealing on foot through the thicket toward the Federal column. A + moment afterward he had mingled with their column and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Other messengers, also in Federal uniform, were dispatched: the whole + force of cavalry was massed, and concealed in the woods: then darkness + descended; and the long night of anxiety began. + </p> + <p> + The situation was not agreeable. Stuart was caught in a veritable trap. On + both sides—in his rear and his front—were passing heavy corps + of Federal infantry; their numerous artillery; and their long-drawn + columns of cavalry. Discovery was destruction; the only hope was that the + enemy would not suspect our proximity. If we were once known to be lurking + there, good-bye to Stuart and his men! + </p> + <p> + So the long night commenced. The hours passed on, and still we were not + discovered. It seemed miraculous that some noise did not betray Stuart’s + hiding-place; but an Unseen Eye seemed to watch over him, and an Unseen + Hand to guard him. + </p> + <p> + More than once the neigh of a horse rang out on the air of night; and two + or three times the discordant bray of a mule attached to the artillery + startled the silence of the woods. But these sounds were unheeded. They + evidently attracted no attention from the enemy. + </p> + <p> + Leaning down in their saddles, the men, half overcome by sleep, but afraid + of a rough waking, passed sleepless hours, looking for the dawn. + </p> + <p> + Stuart was never cooler. On his horse, at the head of his men, he betrayed + no emotion. You would not have known, except for his subdued tones when + speaking to some one, that he and his command were in a veritable “tight + place.” Cool and resolute, he was equal to any event. Certain capture or + destruction of his whole force was imminent. + </p> + <p> + Thus the night glided away. We had not been discovered. Over the trees was + seen the yellow streak of dawn. + </p> + <p> + I looked round. The men’s faces were haggard from want of sleep. But they + evidently felt perfect confidence in Stuart. + </p> + <p> + He hastened to justify it. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had light come than he placed his artillery in position. As it + grew and broadened, the enemy were seen just on a hill in front of us, + busily cooking their breakfasts. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a single cannon sent its long thunder, dull and reverberating, + through the woods, from the direction of Warrenton. + </p> + <p> + Stuart rose erect in his saddle, and looked in the direction of the sound, + his eyes glowing. + </p> + <p> + Another followed; then another; then a long, continuous bellow of + artillery, making the hills echo. + </p> + <p> + There was no longer any doubt about the fate of the messengers. Lee had + received the dispatches; Rodes had opened on the Federal columns, + attacking as that good soldier knew how to attack. + </p> + <p> + Stuart darted to his guns. On his countenance was a grim smile. + </p> + <p> + “Attention!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + The cannoneers ran to their posts, a cheer rose, the next instant the guns + spouted flame; shell after shell in rapid succession screamed through the + woods—and bursting in the midst of the blue groups, threw them into + the wildest disorder. + </p> + <p> + Stuart did not allow the panic to subside. His sharp-shooters opened at + the same instant a determined fire; the great cavalier went at full speed + to the head of his column:—then rushing like an avalanche, troopers + and artillery, charged the column in front, burst through, trampling it as + he went, and at a gallop the gray horsemen, with guns following, broke + out; and were again free. + </p> + <p> + Stuart was out of the trap. From one of the “tightest places” that a + commander was ever in he had extricated his whole command. + </p> + <p> + Once in safety, he turned like a wild boar on his enemies. In ten minutes + his artillery had taken a new position—its thunders had opened—its + roar told the army, that his feather still floated, his star was still in + the ascendant. + </p> + <p> + Such was that queer affair of Auburn. Few more curious incidents occurred + in the war. + </p> + <p> + A brave officer of the infantry had accompanied us as an amateur. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got enough of the cavalry,” he said, laughing; “I am going back to + the infantry. It is safer!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. — GENERAL MEADE’S “EYE-TEETH.” + </h2> + <p> + Stuart came back laughing from his adventure. + </p> + <p> + The army hailed his reappearance with joy and cheers. + </p> + <p> + They had already split the air with shouts in honor of the cavalry, on + that evening at Warrenton Springs, when Stuart charged through the ford. + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah for Stuart!” was now the exclamation everywhere. And let me add + that the stout cavalier keenly enjoyed his popularity. He was brave and + fond of glory—approbation delighted him. In his ears, praise, + sympathy, admiration, sounded sweet. + </p> + <p> + General Lee continued to press forward, but the golden moment for + intercepting Meade had fled. + </p> + <p> + He had not been cut off in Culpeper; he had not been cut off at Warrenton; + he was not going to be cut off at Bristoe, near Manassas. Hill had been + sent in that direction to intercept the enemy’s retreat, but on the + afternoon succeeding the adventure of Stuart, an ugly blow was dealt him + on the banks of Deep Run. + </p> + <p> + He came up with the enemy’s rear guard under their brave General Warren; + assailed it in front of an embankment furiously, and suffered a heavy + repulse. + </p> + <p> + General Cooke was shot down at the head of his men; the brigade was nearly + cut to pieces; and Warren retreated across Deep Run, in grim triumph, + carrying off several pieces of Hill’s artillery. + </p> + <p> + It was a grievous blow, and affected the brave Hill deeply. General Lee + was no less melancholy; it is said that he was both gloomy and restive. It + was reported, I know not upon what authority, that when he and General + Hill were riding over the field, and Hill essayed to explain the + unfortunate affair, the commander-in-chief shook his head, and said in + grave tones:— + </p> + <p> + “Say no more, general—have these poor dead soldiers buried.” + </p> + <p> + From the hill above Bristoe, General Lee, accompanied by Stuart, looked + out in the direction of Manassas. Not a blue coat was to be seen. Meade + had made good his retreat. Everywhere he had eluded the blows of his great + adversary—and in parting from him, finally, at Bristoe, had left + blood in his foot-steps—the blood of some of Lee’s best soldiers. + </p> + <p> + It is said that General Meade made this retreat under protest—and + that he was everywhere looking for a position to fight. A Northern + correspondent described how, sitting with him by the camp-fire, General + Meade had said:— + </p> + <p> + “It was like pulling out my eye-teeth not to have had a fight!” + </p> + <p> + Did he say that? Then he was out-generalled. + </p> + <p> + But he had succeeded in retreating safely. He was behind the works of + Centreville: Lee had stopped the pursuit. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing more, indeed, to be done. Lee must retire, or attack the + enemy behind their earth-works. That was not very promising, and he fell + back toward his old camps, on the Rapidan. + </p> + <p> + Nothing prevented the cavalry, however, from “feeling” the enemy in their + new position; and Stuart rapidly advanced to Bull Run, across which Fitz + Lee drove the Federal horsemen. + </p> + <p> + A raid toward their rear, by Stuart, followed. He moved toward Groveton; + deflected to the left, and crossed the Catharpin in a violent storm; + advanced next day toward Frying-Pan; then striking the Second Corps of + Meade, and throwing it into confusion, by producing the impression that + his force was Lee’s whole army, he quietly retired by the way he had come. + </p> + <p> + His disappearance revealed all. The enemy perceived that the attack was + only a “cavalry raid,” and were seized with immense indignation. A picked + division was sent out in pursuit of the daring raiders—and this + force of horsemen, about three thousand in number, hurried across Bull Run + to punish Stuart. + </p> + <p> + They were commanded by the ardent General Kilpatrick:—what followed + is known as the “Buckland Races.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. — WHAT THE AUTHOR HAS OMITTED. + </h2> + <p> + Such is a rapid summary of the cavalry operations succeeding the action of + Bristoe. + </p> + <p> + Those readers who cry out for “movement! movement!” are respectfully + requested to observe that I have passed over much ground, and many events + in a few paragraphs:—and yet I might have dwelt on more than one + scene which, possibly, might have interested the worthy reader. + </p> + <p> + There was the gallant figure of General Fitz Lee, at the head of his + horsemen, advancing to charge what he supposed to be the enemy’s artillery + near Bristoe, and singing as he went, in the gayest voice:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Rest in peace! rest in peace! + Slumb’ring lady love of mine; + Rest in peace! rest in peace! + Sleep on!” + </pre> + <p> + There was the charge over the barricade near Yates’s Ford, where a strange + figure mingled just at dusk with the staff, and when arrested as he was + edging away in the dark, coolly announced that he belonged to the “First + Maine Cavalry.” + </p> + <p> + There was the march toward Chantilly, amid the drenching storm, when + Stuart rode along laughing and shouting his camp songs, with the rain + descending in torrents from his heavy brown beard. + </p> + <p> + There was the splendid advance on the day succeeding, through the rich + autumn forest, of all the colors of the rainbow. + </p> + <p> + Then the fight at Frying-Pan; arousing the hornets’ nest there, and the + feat performed by Colonel Surry, in carrying off through the fire of the + sharp-shooters, on the pommel of his saddle, a beautiful girl who declared + that she was “not at all afraid!” + </p> + <p> + These and many other scenes come back to memory as I sit here at Eagle’s + Nest. But were I to describe all I witnessed during the war, I should + never cease writing. All these must be passed over—my canvas is + limited, and I have so many figures to draw, so many pictures to paint, + that every square inch is valuable. + </p> + <p> + That is the vice of “memoirs,” reader. The memory is an immense receptacle—it + holds every thing, and often trifles take the prominent place, instead of + great events. You are interested in those trifles, when they are part of + your own experience; but perhaps, they bore your listener and make him + yawn—a terrible catastrophe! + </p> + <p> + So I pass to some real and <i>bona fide</i> “events.” Sabres are going to + clash now, and some figures whom the reader I hope has not forgotten are + going to ride for the prize in the famous Buckland Races. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. — I FALL A VICTIM TO TOM’S ILL-LUCK. + </h2> + <p> + Stuart had fallen back, and had reached the vicinity of Buckland. + </p> + <p> + There was a bright light in his blue eyes, a meaning smile on his + mustached lip, which in due time I was going to understand. + </p> + <p> + Kilpatrick was following him. From the rear guard came the crack of + skirmishers. It seemed hard to understand, but the fact was perfectly + evident, that Stuart was retreating. + </p> + <p> + I had fallen out of the column, and was riding with Tom Herbert. Have you + forgotten that worthy, my dear reader? Has the roar of Gettysburg driven + him quite from your memory? I hope not. I have not mentioned him for a + long time, so many things have diverted me—but we had ridden + together, slept together, fought together, and starved together! Tom had + come to be one of my best friends, in fact, and his charming good humor + beguiled many a weary march. To hear him laugh was real enjoyment; and + when he would suddenly burst forth with, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh look at the riggings + On Billy Barlo—o—o—ow!” + </pre> + <p> + the sternest faces relaxed, the sourest personages could not but laugh. + </p> + <p> + Brave and honest fop! Where are you to-day, <i>mon garçon</i>! I wish I + could see you and hear you sing again! + </p> + <p> + But I am prosing. Riding beside Tom, I was looking down and thinking of a + certain young lady, when an exclamation from my companion made me raise my + head. + </p> + <p> + “By George! there’s the house, old fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “The house?” + </p> + <p> + “Of the famous supper.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is!” + </p> + <p> + “And my inamorata, Surry! I wonder if she is still there?” + </p> + <p> + “Inamorata? What is her other name?” + </p> + <p> + Tom laughed, and began to sing in his gayest voice, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, Katy! Katy! + Don’t marry any other; + You’ll break my heart, and kill me dead, + And then be hanged for murder!” + </pre> + <p> + “That is answer enough,” I said, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we go and see if they are still alive,” Tom said, blushing; “ten + minutes will take us to the house.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, I saw across the fields, embowered in foliage, the hospitable + mansion in which we had eaten the famous supper, on the route to + Pennsylvania. + </p> + <p> + “It is risky,” I said, hesitating. + </p> + <p> + “But pleasing,” retorted Tom, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + And I saw, from his flushed face, that he had set his heart on the visit. + </p> + <p> + That conquered me. I never could refuse Tom Herbert any thing; and we were + soon cantering toward the house. + </p> + <p> + Leaving our horses in a little grove, near the mansion, in order that they + might not attract the attention of any of the enemy’s vedettes, we + hastened up the steps. + </p> + <p> + As we reached the door, it opened, and Miss Katy Dare, the heroine of + Tom’s dreams, very nearly precipitated herself into our arms. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad to see you!” she exclaimed, with her auburn ringlets + dancing, her eyes sparkling,—and taking care to look at <i>me</i> as + she uttered the words. + </p> + <p> + Then a whole bevy of young ladies hastened out to welcome us. + </p> + <p> + Where had we been? Why were we going back? Could General Stuart intend to + leave them in the Yankee lines again? Oh, no! he could not! He could not + have the heart to! Was he coming to see them? Oh, the sight of gray + uniforms was HEAVENLY!!! + </p> + <p> + And the young damsels positively overwhelmed me with exclamations and + interrogatories. Eyes danced, lips smiled, cheeks glowed—they hung + around me, and seemed wild with enthusiasm and delight. + </p> + <p> + Around <i>me</i>, I say—for Tom and Miss Katy had accidentally + strolled into a conservatory near at hand. A glass door gave access to it, + and they had “gone to examine the flowers,” the young ladies said, with + rapturous smiles and little nods. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, “the wants of the soldiers” were by no means forgotten. Busy + hands brought in china, silver, and snowy napkins. On the table the waiter + was soon deposited, containing a splendid, miraculous array of edibles, + and these were flanked by decanters containing excellent home-made wine. + </p> + <p> + This consumed half an hour—but at last the repast was ready, and one + of the young ladies hastened toward the conservatory, uttering a discreet + little “ahem!” which made her companions laugh. + </p> + <p> + In an instant Tom made his appearance with a decided color in his cheeks; + and Miss Katy—well, Miss Katy’s face was the color of a peony, or a + carnation. + </p> + <p> + Shall I reveal to you, gentle reader, what Tom told me long afterward? He + had advanced and been repulsed—had attacked and been “scattered.” + Pardon the slang of the army, and admire the expeditious operations of the + gentlemen of the cavalry! + </p> + <p> + Tom was blushing, but laughing too. He was game, if he <i>was</i> + unfortunate. He did not even decline the material enjoyment of lunch, and + having led in the young Miss Katy, with a charmingly foppish air, took his + seat at the table, which promised so much pleasure of another description. + </p> + <p> + The fates frowned on us. Tom was unlucky that day, and I was drawn into + the vortex of bad fortune. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a clatter of hoofs came from the grass plat in front of the + house; the rattle of sabres from a company of cavalry followed; and the + young ladies had just time to thrust us into the conservatory, when the + door opened, and an officer in blue uniform, accompanied by a lady, + entered the apartment. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. — I OVERHEAR A SINGULAR CONVERSATION. + </h2> + <p> + I recognized the new-comers at a glance. They were Darke, and the gray + woman. + </p> + <p> + There was no mistaking that powerful figure, of low stature, but herculean + proportions; that gloomy and phlegmatic face, half-covered with the black + beard; and the eye glancing warily, but with a reckless fire in them, from + beneath the heavy eye-brows. + </p> + <p> + The woman wore an elegant gray riding habit—gray seemed a favorite + with her. Her cheeks were as white as ever, and her lips as red. Her + bearing was perfectly composed, and she advanced, with the long riding + skirt thrown over her arm, walking with exquisite grace. + </p> + <p> + All this I could easily see. The glass door of the conservatory had been + left ajar in the hurry of our retreat, and from behind the lemon-trees and + flower-bushes, we could see into the apartment without difficulty. + </p> + <p> + There was evidently little danger of our discovery. The new-comers had + plainly entered the house with no design to search it. Darke advanced into + the apartment; made the ladies a bow, which more than ever convinced me + that he had been familiar with good society; and requested food for the + lady. She had tasted none for many hours, and was faint. He would not ask + it for himself, inasmuch as he was an enemy. + </p> + <p> + He bowed again as he spoke, and was silent. + </p> + <p> + The young ladies had listened coldly. As he finished, they pointed to the + waiter, and without speaking, they left the apartment. + </p> + <p> + Darke was left alone with the woman in gray. She seemed to have regarded + ceremony as unnecessary. Going to the table, she had already helped + herself, and for some moments devoured, rather than ate, the food before + her. + </p> + <p> + Then she rose, and went and took her seat in a rocking-chair near the + fire. Darke remained erect, gazing at her, in silence. + </p> + <p> + The lady rocked to and fro, pushed back her dark hair with the snowy hand, + and looking at her companion, began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You are not hungry?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No,” was his reply. + </p> + <p> + “And to think that a romantic young creature like myself <i>should</i> + be!” + </p> + <p> + “It was natural. I hoped that you would have given up this fancy of + accompanying me. You can not stand the fatigue.” + </p> + <p> + “I can stand it easily,” she said. “When we have a cherished object, + weariness does not count.” + </p> + <p> + “A cherished object! What is yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, and I will tell you. I am tired. You can rejoin the column in + ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it,” said Darke, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + And he sat down near her. + </p> + <p> + “You wish to be informed of my object in going with you everywhere,” she + said. And her voice which had at first been gay and careless, assumed a + mocking accent, making the nerves tingle. “I can explain in a very few + words my romantic desire. I wish to see <i>him</i> fall.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” ejaculated Darke, coldly; “you mean—” + </p> + <p> + “That man—yes. You promised to kill him, when you next met. Did you + not promise me that?” + </p> + <p> + Darke looked at the speaker with grim admiration. + </p> + <p> + “You are a singular woman,” he said; “you never forget a wrong. And yet + the wrong, people might say, was committed by <i>you</i>—not <i>him</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Do <i>you</i> say that?” exclaimed the woman with sudden venom in her + voice. + </p> + <p> + “I say nothing, madam,” was the gloomy reply. “I only declare that you + hate much more strongly than I do. I hate him—and hate him honestly. + But I would not take him at disadvantage. You would strike him, wherever + you met him—in the dark—in the back—I think you would + dance the war-dance around him, when he was dying!” + </p> + <p> + And Darke uttered a short jarring laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said the woman, coolly. “I wish to see that man die—I + expected you to kill him on that night in Pennsylvania. You promised to do + it;—redeem your promise!” + </p> + <p> + “I will try to do so, madam,” said Darke, coolly. + </p> + <p> + “And I wish to be present on the occasion.” + </p> + <p> + Darke laughed as before. + </p> + <p> + “That doubtless has prevented you from having our good friend Mohun—well—assassinated!” + </p> + <p> + The woman was silent for a moment. Then she said:—- + </p> + <p> + “No, I have tried that.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!—recently?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “By what means—who was your agent?” + </p> + <p> + “Swartz.” + </p> + <p> + Darke waited, listening. + </p> + <p> + “He has three times waylaid <i>him</i> behind the rebel lines, and fired + on him as he was riding at night through the woods,” added the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” said Darke; “Swartz told you that?” + </p> + <p> + “He has done so.” + </p> + <p> + “Hatred blinds you; I do not believe that story. But I design nothing of + that description against Colonel Mohun. I will fight him wherever I meet + him in battle—kill him, if I can—but no assassination.” + </p> + <p> + A mocking smile came to the woman’s lips. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to dislike the idea of—assassination,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Darke uttered a sound resembling the growl of a wild animal, and a moment + after, seizing the decanter, he dashed some of its contents into a glass, + and raised it to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Cursed stuff!” he suddenly exclaimed, setting the glass down violently. + “I want drink—real drink—to-day!” + </p> + <p> + The woman looked at him curiously, and said quietly:— + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Her companion’s brows were knit until the shaggy masses united over the + gloomy eyes. Beneath burned a lurid fire. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen <i>him</i> again—General Davenant,” he said, in a low + voice; “it is the second time.” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered these words, Darke seemed the prey of some singular emotion. + </p> + <p> + “It was at Gettysburg first,” he continued. “He was leading the charge, on + the third day, against Cemetery Heights. I was there by accident. They + were repulsed. When he rode back, he was carrying a bleeding boy in his + arms through the smoke. I recognized his tall form and gray hair; and + heard his voice in the midst of the cannon, as he cheered on his men.” + </p> + <p> + The speaker’s face had flushed. His breast rose and fell. + </p> + <p> + “That was the first time,” he said. “The second was the other day when he + was riding among the enemy’s guns near Bristoe—I made him out with + my glasses.” + </p> + <p> + Darke bent down, and gazed at the floor in silence. The fire in the dark + eyes had deepened. His heavy under lip was caught in the large, sharp + teeth. + </p> + <p> + All at once a ringing laugh disturbed the silence. There was a mocking + intonation in it which was unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + “General Davenant!” exclaimed the woman. “Well, who is General Davenant?” + </p> + <p> + Darke looked at the mocking speaker sidewise. + </p> + <p> + “Who is General Davenant?” he said. “Is it necessary that I enlighten you, + madam? He is my bugbear—my death’s head! The sight of him poisons my + life, and something gnaws at me, driving me nearly mad! To see that man + chills me, like the hand of death!” + </p> + <p> + The woman looked at him and then began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You do unbend your noble strength, my lord!” she said, “to think so + brainsickly of things!” throwing into the word, “brainsickly,” exaggerated + stage-rant. + </p> + <p> + “One would say,” she continued, “that the brave Colonel Darke had the + blues to-day! Take care how you meet Colonel Mohun in this mood! The + result might be unfortunate.” + </p> + <p> + Darke made no reply for some moments. He was gazing with knit brows upon + the floor. Then he raised his head. + </p> + <p> + “You return to the subject of your friend,” he said, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The subject is agreeable.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can give you intelligence of him—unless Swartz has + anticipated me.” + </p> + <p> + “What intelligence?” + </p> + <p> + “Your friend Mohun is in love—again!” + </p> + <p> + The woman’s face flushed suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “With whom?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there is the curious part of the affair, madam!” returned Darke. + </p> + <p> + And in a low tone he added:— + </p> + <p> + “The name of the young lady is—Georgia Conway.” + </p> + <p> + The woman half rose from her chair, with flashing eyes, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “Who told you that?” + </p> + <p> + Darke smiled. There was something lugubrious in that chilly mirth. + </p> + <p> + “An emissary on whom I can rely, brought me the intelligence,” he said, + “Colonel Mohun was wounded in the battle of Fleetwood, and entering a + house where <i>she</i> was nursing the wounded, fainted, and was caught in + her arms. From that moment the affair began. She nursed him, and he was + soon healed. I had myself inflicted the wound with a pistol ball—but + the hurt was trifling. He got well in a few days—and was ready to + meet me again at Upperville—but in those few days the young lady and + himself became enamored of each other. She is proud, they say, and had + always laughed at love—he too is a woman-hater—no doubt from + some old affair, madam!—but both the young people suddenly changed + their views. Colonel Mohun became devoted; the young woman forgot her + sarcasm. My emissary saw them riding out more than once near Culpeper + Court-House; and since the return of the army, they have been billing and + cooing like two doves, quite love sick! That’s agreeable, is it not, + madam?” + </p> + <p> + And Darke uttered a singular laugh. As for the woman she had grown so + pale, I thought she would faint. + </p> + <p> + “Do you understand, madam?” continued Darke. “Colonel Mohun is in love <i>again</i>; + and the name of his friend is—Georgia Conway!” + </p> + <p> + The woman was silent; but I saw that she was gnawing her nails. + </p> + <p> + “My budget is not exhausted, madam,” continued Darke. “The young lady has + a sister; her name is Virginia. She too has a love affair with a young + officer of the artillery. His name is William Davenant!” + </p> + <p> + And the speaker clutched the arm of a chair so violently that the wood + cracked in his powerful grasp. + </p> + <p> + “That is all!” he added. “The Mohuns, Davenants and Conways, are about to + intermarry, you see! Their blood is going to mingle, their hands to clasp, + in spite of the gulf of fire that divides their people! All is forgotten, + or they care nothing. They are yonder, billing, and cooing, and kissing! + the tender hearts are throbbing—all the world is bright to them—while + I am here, and you, tearing our hearts out in despair!” + </p> + <p> + Darke stopped, uttering a sound between a curse and a groan. The woman had + listened with a bitter smile. As he finished, she rose and approached him. + Her eyes burned in the pale face like coals of fire. + </p> + <p> + “There is a better thing than despair!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Vengeance!” + </p> + <p> + And grasping his arm almost violently:— + </p> + <p> + “That man is yonder!” she said, pointing with the other hand toward + Warrenton, “Go and meet him, and kill him, and end all this at once! + Remember the banks of the Nottaway!—That sword thrust—that + grave! Remember, he hates you with a deadly hatred—has wounded you, + laughed at you,—driven you back, when you met him, like a hound + under the lash! Remember me!—your oath! Break that oath and I will + go and kill him myself!” + </p> + <p> + As she uttered these words a cannon shot thundered across the woods. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” the woman exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Darke rose suddenly to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “You are right!” he said, gloomily. “You keep me to the work. I do not + hate him as you do—but he is an enemy, and I will kill him. Why do I + yield to you, and obey you thus? What makes me love you, I wonder!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a second gun roared from beyond Buckland. + </p> + <p> + “We will talk of that afterward,” said the woman, with flushed cheeks; + “think of one thing only now—that <i>he</i> is yonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Darke, “and I hope that in an hour one of us will be dead, I + care not which—come, madam—but you must not expose yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “What am I!” + </p> + <p> + “All I have left!” he said. + </p> + <p> + And with a gloomy look he rushed from the house, followed by the gray + woman. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. — THE BUCKLAND RACES. + </h2> + <p> + In a moment the voice of Darke was heard, ordering “to horse!” a clatter + of sabres followed; and the company of cavalry sat out at full gallop + toward the firing. + </p> + <p> + At their head I saw Darke’s burly figure. The woman, escorted by an + orderly, rode toward the rear. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes the company of cavalry had entered a belt of woods and + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + We had hastened into the apartment—Tom and myself, and looked now + toward the highway. It was dark with a long column of Federal cavalry + which seemed to be in great agitation. + </p> + <p> + The column, as well as I could make out, numbered at least a division. + Neither the head nor the tail of the blue serpent was visible—only + the main body, with its drawn sabres glittering like silver scales in the + sun. + </p> + <p> + I hesitated not many seconds. Something was evidently going on, and our + present whereabouts dangerous. + </p> + <p> + With a hasty salute to the young ladies who had hurried in, I made a sign + to Tom, and ran to my horse. + </p> + <p> + My companion did not join me for at least five minutes. Impatience began + to master me, when he appeared, laughing, and flourishing a knot of red + ribbon, which I had observed in Miss Katy’s hair. + </p> + <p> + With a bound he was in the saddle—I saw him turn and make a gay + salute toward the ladies on the steps, and then we set out at full speed + across the fields to rejoin Stuart. + </p> + <p> + He was evidently engaged with the enemy. From the front came quick carbine + shots and shouts. From the woods, on the left flank and in rear of the + enemy, was heard the rapid thunder of cannon. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly every thing flashed upon me. I remembered Stuart’s significant + smile; the absence of Fitz Lee; a trap had evidently been laid, and + General Kilpatrick had fallen into it. + </p> + <p> + I was not deceived. The gallant Fitz Lee had suggested the ruse. He was to + move toward Auburn, while Stuart retreated upon Warrenton, pursued by + Kilpatrick. Then Fitz Lee was to attack the enemy in flank and rear, from + the direction of Auburn—his cannon would be the signal for Stuart to + turn. General Kilpatrick, thus assailed in front, flank and rear, <i>sauve + qui pent</i> would, probably, be the order of the day with him. + </p> + <p> + Every thing turned out exactly as it had been arranged. Stuart retired + steadily on Warrenton. When the Federal rear approached Buckland, Fitz Lee + came in on their left flank, and then Stuart turned like a tiger, and bore + down on the head of their column. + </p> + <p> + That gun we had heard was the signal of Fitz Lee’s attack. Those carbine + shots came from Stuart as his men charged. + </p> + <p> + We had set out at full speed to rejoin Stuart, as I have said; but he + saved Tom and myself the trouble of riding very far. He came to meet us, + at full gallop, with drawn sabre, driving the Federal troopers in disorder + before him. + </p> + <p> + The affair that succeeded was one of the most animated of the war. + </p> + <p> + The enemy were completely dumbfoundered, but a part of Kilpatrick’s force + made a hard fight. Sabres clashed, carbines cracked, Fitz Lee’s artillery + roared—the fields and woods around Buckland were full of tumult and + conflict. + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes we had caught up with Stuart. He was leading his column in + person. At the head of the front regiment rode Mohun, with drawn sabre, + and pressing his magnificent gray to headlong speed. In his eye was the + splendid joy of combat; his cheeks glowed; his laughing lips revealed the + white teeth under the black mustache. It was difficult to recognize in + this gay cavalier, the pale, bitter and melancholy cynic of the previous + June. + </p> + <p> + “Look, Surry!” exclaimed Mohun, “we are driving our friend Kilpatrick! + Stuart is down on him like a lion!” + </p> + <p> + “You are driving a personal friend of yours, besides!” I said. “Yonder he + is—Colonel Darke!” + </p> + <p> + Mohun’s smile disappeared suddenly. He looked at Darke, whose burly figure + was seen at the head of the charging column; and that glance was troubled + and doubtful. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to meet him,” he said, in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “He would not strike me yonder, in Pennsylvania, when I was in his power.” + </p> + <p> + “But he has sworn to kill you to-day!” I exclaimed. “I have just heard him + swear that! Look out, Mohun! here they are!” + </p> + <p> + In an instant the two columns had clashed together, like thunder. What + followed was a fierce and confused struggle—sabres clashing, + carbines banging, men shouting, groaning, and falling from their horses, + which trampled over the dead and wounded alike. + </p> + <p> + I was close beside Mohun as he closed in with Darke. The latter had + plainly resolved on his enemy’s destruction; and in an instant the two men + were cutting furiously at each other with their sabres. They were body to + body—their faces flamed—it was rather a wrestle on horseback, + than a sword fight. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Mohun delivered a blow which fell upon his opponent’s sword hand, + nearly cutting through the fingers. Darke’s arm instinctively fell, and he + was at his adversary’s mercy. + </p> + <p> + Instead of plunging his sword into Darke’s breast, however, as he might + have done, Mohun let its point fall, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “Take your life! Now I am even with you, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Darke recoiled, and a furious flash darted from his eyes. Then his left + hand went to his hilt; he drew a pistol; and spurring close up to Mohun, + placed the weapon on his enemy’s breast, and fired. + </p> + <p> + The bullet passed through Mohun’s breast, but at the same instant Darke + uttered a fierce cry. Mohun had driven his sword’s point through the + Federal officer’s throat—the blood spouted around the blade—a + moment afterward the two adversaries had clutched, dragged each other from + their rearing horses, and were tearing each other with hands and teeth on + the ground, wet with their blood. + </p> + <p> + One of Mohun’s men leaped from horseback and tore them apart. + </p> + <p> + “A sword! give me a sword,” exclaimed Mohun, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + And rising to his feet, he clutched at an imaginary weapon,—his lips + foamed with blood,—and reeling, he fell at full length on the body + of his adversary, who was bathed in blood, and seemed to be dying. + </p> + <p> + What is here described, all took place in a few minutes. In that time the + enemy’s column had been broken, and hurled back. Suddenly the wild + Southern cheer rang above the woods. Stuart and Fitz Lee had united their + forces; in one solid column they pressed the flying enemy, banging and + thundering on their rear with carbines and cannon. + </p> + <p> + Kilpatrick was defeated; his column in hopeless rout. + </p> + <p> + “Stuart boasts of having driven me from Culpeper;” he is reported to have + said just before the fight, “and now I am going to drive <i>him</i>.” + </p> + <p> + But Stuart was not driven. On the contrary, he drove Kilpatrick. Some of + the enemy’s column did not stop, it is said, before they reached the banks + of the Potomac. + </p> + <p> + Such was the dramatic termination of the last great cavalry campaign of + Stuart. + </p> + <p> + The affair came to be known as “The Buckland Races,” and Stuart’s old + sabreurs still laugh as they recall the comedy. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. — TWO SCENES IN DECEMBER, 1863. + </h2> + <p> + The campaign of October, 1863, was over. Lee was behind the Rapidan. + </p> + <p> + In December General Meade struck a blow, in turn, at his adversary. + </p> + <p> + Shall we glance, in passing, at that affair of Mine Run? I saw a spectacle + there—and a sad one, too—which I am tempted to describe, + though aware it has little to do with my narrative. I have left Colonels + Mohun and Darke in a bloody embrace yonder near Buckland. I ought to + relate at length how they were not dead, and how they in due time + recovered, but for the moment I think of a fine sight, and a weeping face, + which I saw in the woods below Verdiersville. + </p> + <p> + Let us ride thither, reader, it will not take long. + </p> + <p> + In December, then, General Meade crossed the lower Rapidan, and advanced + to assail General Lee in his works above. + </p> + <p> + A fiasco followed. Meade marched toward Verdiersville; found his adversary + behind earth-works, near that place; reconnoitered them, felt them, moved + backward and forward before them—and then, one morning, before + General Lee was aware of the fact, quietly disappeared, returning to the + north bank of the Rapidan. + </p> + <p> + You see I have no battles to describe on this occasion, reader. We had + some hard fighting in the cavalry, but I shall not dwell upon that. It is + some handsome fire-necklaces, and a talk with an old woman, which I shall + speak of. + </p> + <p> + The fire-necklaces were manufactured by General Meade’s troops, just + before their retreat. The men had fallen into line at the word; moved + silently toward the Rapidan, and had not taken the trouble, in leaving the + rebel woods, to extinguish their bivouac fires, amid the thickets, + carpeted with leaves. The result was a splendid spectacle. The fires had + gradually burned outward, devouring the carpet of dry leaves. Great + circles of flame were seen everywhere in the woods, and these dazzling + fire-necklaces grew larger and larger, twined together, became entangled, + twisted about, sparkled, crackled,—of all the sights I ever saw I + think this was the most curious! + </p> + <p> + From time to time the flames crawled along and reached the foot of some + tall tree, festooned with dry vines. Then the vine would catch; the flame + would dart through the festoons; climb the trunk; stream from the summit,—and + above the blazing rings, twisting in endless convolutions, would roar a + mighty tongue of flame, crimson, baleful, and menacing. + </p> + <p> + It was a new “torch of war,” invented by General Meade. + </p> + <p> + Such was the picturesque spectacle which rose a moment ago to my memory. + </p> + <p> + Now for the sad scene which I witnessed, as I rode back with Stuart. + </p> + <p> + Passing a small house, a poor woman came out, and with eyes full of tears, + exclaimed, addressing Stuart:— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, child! stop a minute! Are they coming back? They have took every + thing I had—they are <i>not</i> coming back!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Her words.} + </p> + <p> + Stuart stopped. He was riding at the head of his staff, preceded by his + battle-flag. Not a trace of amusement was seen on his features, as he + heard himself addressed in that phrase, “Oh, child!” + </p> + <p> + “Have they treated you so badly?” he said, in his grave, kind voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” exclaimed the poor woman, weeping bitterly, “they have took + every hog, cow, and ear of corn I have, and every thing from my daughter; + she is a widow, and lives near us. These are her children, my + grandchildren, come to get out of the way."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Her words.} + </p> + <p> + And she pointed to two or three little girls, with frightened faces, and + eyes wet with tears. + </p> + <p> + Stuart seemed deeply affected. Under that stout heart, which never shrunk, + was a wealth of sweetness and kindness. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they are not coming back, my good woman,” he said, in a voice of + deep feeling. “You need not be afraid—they are gone now.” + </p> + <p> + The poor woman clasped her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do you believe that, child!”{1} she said; “do you believe they’ll + never come back?” + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Her words.} + </p> + <p> + “I hope not, at least,” Stuart replied, in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + “She clasped her hands, and for the third time addressing him as ‘child,’ + sobbed:— + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if they will only never come back!” + </p> + <p> + That scene affected me deeply. The poor woman’s tears brought something + into my throat which seemed to choke me. This time the Northern soldiers + had been impartial in their marauding. They had not only destroyed the + property, and carried off the slaves of the wealthy proprietors, the + “bloated aristocrats;” they had taken the bread out of the mouths of the + widow and the fatherless—leaving them bare and starving in that + bleak December of ‘63. + </p> + <p> + War conducted in that manner is barbarous—is it not, reader? The cry + of that widow and her children must have gone up to Heaven. + </p> + <p> + Stuart returned to his bivouac in the pine wood near Verdiersville, where + he had slept without tents, by his camp-fire, all these freezing nights. + Then the army began to move; soon it resumed its former position; the + cavalry was sent to watch the fords of the Rapidan; and Stuart returned to + his own head-quarters near Orange Court-House, gayly singing, as he had + left them to advance and meet the enemy. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. — STUART’S WINTER QUARTERS. + </h2> + <h3> + COON HOLLOW!— + </h3> + <p> + What gay memories are evoked by that familiar name! How we laughed and + sang in that hollow in the hills near Orange, in the cold winter of 1863! + </p> + <p> + Stuart called his head-quarters “Wigwam Independence,” but the officers of + his staff gave them the sobriquet of “Coon Hollow;” and I adopt in my + memoirs the old familiar designation. + </p> + <p> + Never were soldiers more comfortable than the inhabitants of Coon Hollow!—and + Stuart’s tent was the most comfortable of all. He had stretched a large + canvas beneath some sheltering trees; and filling up the opening at each + end with a picturesque wicker-work of evergreens, ensconced himself there + in his sylvan lodge, like some Robin Hood, or ranger of the greenwood in + old times. The woodland haunt and open air life seemed, at first, to charm + the bold cavalier; nothing seemed wanting to his happiness, lost here in + the forest: but soon the freezing airs “demoralized” even the stout + cavalryman, and he exchanged his canvas for a regular tent of the largest + description, with a plank floor, a camp-couch, and a mighty chimney, + wherein sparkled, ere long, a cheerful fire of hickory, driving away the + blasts of the cold winter nights, which were sent on their way with song. + </p> + <p> + Such was Stuart’s own domicile. The staff tents were grouped around, with + their solid chimneys of rock. The “cavalry head-quarters” was complete—a + warm nest in the woods. Couriers came and went; sabres rattled; spurs + jingled; the horses whinnied from their stables, woven of pine boughs, + near by; and in and out of the general’s tent played his two boisterous + setters, Nip and Tuck, the companions of his idle hours. We all messed + together, under a broad canvas, at one table: music resounded; songs were + sung; Sweeney, soon, alas! to be dead, was yet king of the woodland + revels; Stuart joined in his songs, to the music of the banjo; and not + seldom did the bright faces of fair ladies shine on us, bringing back all + the warmth of the summer days—the blue sky, the sunshine, and the + smiles! + </p> + <p> + Such was good old “Coon Hollow.” I recall it with delight. The chill airs + cut you to the bone when you ventured out on horseback from the sheltered + nook; but in Coon Hollow all was warm and bright. In the woods on the + crest above, the winds sighed: but in the hollow below, the banjo rattled; + laughter resounded; great fires roared; and, as though in open defiance of + winter and its tempests, Stuart, carolled in his clear and sonorous voice, + his favorite ditty, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The dew is on the blossom.” + </pre> + <p> + So we sang and laughed all those long winter evenings. The winds carried + away the sound of jests, and banjo notes. The long hours of winter thus + flew by like birds lost, one by one, in the night of the past. Happy days! + happy nights! I remember them still. Stuart is dead—more than one of + my dear companions have followed him—but their voices sound again, + their eyes again flash, their friendly smiles linger in memory. + </p> + <p> + So the days fled by—and I wonder if our friends across the Rapidan, + who were going to crush us, were as gay as the folk about to be crushed? + The future looked stormy, but we laughed—and we did right, did we + not, friend? That mirth was not unseemly—not unworthy of approval. + It is evidence at least of “game,” <i>non fractum esse fortunâ et retinere + in rebus asperis, dignitatem</i>—is it not? Good fortune, wealth, + and success, are nothing compared to that. For my part, I would rather + have the equal mind in arduous things, than money in my purse, or victory. + The army of Northern Virginia had that in the winter of 1863, as they had + had it in 1861 and ‘62, and were going to have it in the dark year and + black winter preceding April, 1865. + </p> + <p> + But I linger too long on those days at “Coon Hollow.” The wave of war had + wafted us to that quiet nook; for a time, we laughed and sang; but the + storm was coming. Soon it struck us; and we left the harbor, driven by the + tempest. + </p> + <p> + So I dismiss Coon Hollow, lost amid the hills of Orange. The spot is + desolate to-day, and the bleak wood is silent. But for me, Stuart is + singing there now as then—and will sing in my memory forever! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. — LEE’S “RAGGED REGIMENTS.” + </h2> + <p> + It required a stout heart to laugh and sing, <i>con amore</i>, in the last + days of that winter, and the first days of spring, 1864. + </p> + <p> + Those very figures, “1864,” tell the story, and explain this. Do they not, + reader? + </p> + <p> + Each year of the war has its peculiar physiognomy. + </p> + <p> + 1861—that is mirth, adventure, inexperience, bright faces, wreaths + of flowers, “boxes” from home, and “honorable mention” in reports, if you + only waved your sword and shouted “Hurrah!” Then you heard the brass bands + playing, the drum gayly rolling, the bugles sending their joyous notes + across the fields and through the forests—blooming fields, untouched + forests!—and that music made the pulses dance. Gayly-clad volunteers + marched gallantly through the streets; the crowds cheered; the new flags, + shaped by fair hands, fluttered;—not a bullet had torn through them, + not a rent was seen in the new uniforms. As the trains swept by with the + young heroes on board, bevies of lovely girls cheered, waved + handkerchiefs, and threw nosegays. Eyes were sparkling, lips smiling, + cheeks glowing in ‘61. The youths had havelocks to ward off the sun; + gaiters to keep out the dust; woollen belts to prevent rheumatism; + fanciful shirt bosoms, and pretty needle-cases and tobacco pouches of silk + and velvet, decked with beads and gay needle-work, by the dearest fingers + in the world! + </p> + <p> + So they went to the wars—those stout and ruddy youths. Every one + anxious to have his head taken off by a cannon ball, all for the honor and + glory of it. They marched along cheering, as the white handkerchiefs + waved; they proudly kept step to the tap of the drum, or moved briskly + beside the cannon, or cantered by on their glossy and spirited horses. + </p> + <p> + The epoch was agitated, but joy coursed in every vein. And when the first + successes came, those small affairs were greeted with “thunders of + applause.” + </p> + <p> + General Spoons marched to Bethel; took a look at the gray people; fired a + gun or two before retreating—and a thousand Southern journalists + shouted “lo, triumphe!—a grand victory!” The brave Del. Kemper fired + a shot at the Federal train approaching Vienna, and the journalists cried, + “we have driven back the whole Federal army!” + </p> + <p> + Then some real fighting came, and the applause was again tremendous. When + the news of the first Manassas flashed over the wires, the Southern people + stood upon their heads, and went wild. The war was ended—the affair + was over—the brass bands, and rolling drums, and dazzling uniforms + had speedily done the business. The power of the North was broken. She had + run upon the breakers. The great hulk was lying stranded, the waves were + beating her, and she was about to go to pieces. + </p> + <p> + Such was 1861—an era of mirth, inexperience, inflated views, + brilliant pageants, gay adventures, ruddy cheeks, sparkling eyes and + splendid banners, floating proudly in the sunshine of victory! + </p> + <p> + 1862 came, and with it a new phase of the war. Sweat, dust, and blood had + replaced the music and wreaths of roses. Faces, were not so ruddy—they + began to look war-worn. The rounded cheeks had become gaunt. The bright + uniforms were battle-soiled. Smoke had stained them, the bivouac dimmed + them, the sun had changed the blue-gray to a sort of scorched yellow. + Waving handkerchiefs still greeted the troops—as they greeted them + to the end of the war. But few flowers were thrown now—their good + angels looked on in silence, and prayed for them. + </p> + <p> + They were no longer holiday soldiers, but were hardened in battle. They + knew the work before them, and advanced to it with the measured tramp of + veterans. They fought as well as soldiers have ever fought in this world. + Did they not? Answer, Cold Harbor, Malvern Hill, Cedar Mountain, Manassas, + Boonsboro’, Sharpsburg, and Fredericksburg! And every battle, nearly, was + a victory. In the lowlands and the mountains—in Virginia and + Maryland—they bore aloft the banner of the South in stalwart hands, + and carried it forward with unshrinking hearts, to that baptism of blood + awaiting it. That was the great year for the South. The hour was dark—a + huge foe fronted us—but wherever that foe was met, he seemed to reel + before the mailed hand that buffeted his front. All frippery and + decoration had long been stripped from the army. The fingers of war—real + war—had torn off the gaudy trappings; and the grim lips had + muttered, “What I want is hard muscle, and the brave heart—not + tinsel!” The bands were seldom heard—the musicians were tending the + wounded. The drums had ceased their jovial rattle, and were chiefly used + in the “long roll,” which said “Get ready, boys! they are coming!” + </p> + <p> + So in the midst of smoke and dust,—with yells of triumph, or groans + of agony, in place of the gay cheering—passed that year of battles, + 1862. + </p> + <p> + The South was no longer romantic and elated on the subject of the war. The + soldiers no longer looked out for adventures, or for the glorious + cannonball to carry off their heads, and make their names immortal. At + home, the old men were arming, and the women sending words of cheer to + their husbands and sons, and praying. In the camps, the old soldiers had + forgotten the wreaths of roses. Their havelocks were worn out, and they no + longer minded the sun. Gray flannel had replaced the “fancy” shirt bosoms; + they carried tobacco in their pockets; and you saw them, seated on some + log, busy sewing on buttons, the faces once so round and ruddy, now gaunt + and stained with powder. + </p> + <p> + 1863 came, and it was an army of veterans that struck Hooker at + Chancellorsville. It was no longer a company of gay gallants marching by, + amid music, waving scarfs, and showers of nosegays from fairy hands. It + was a stormy wave of gaunt warriors, in ragged clothes and begrimed faces, + who clutched their shining muskets, rushed headlong over the breastworks, + and, rolling through the blazing and crackling woods, swept the enemy at + the point of the bayonet, with the hoarse and menacing cry, “Remember + Jackson!” Gettysburg followed—never was grapple more fierce than + that, as we have seen; and when the veterans of Lee were hurled back, the + soil of the continent seemed to shake. They were repulsed and retreated, + but as the lion retreats before the huntsman, glaring back, and + admonishing him not to follow too closely, if he would consult his own + safety. At Williamsport the wounded lion halted and turned—his + pursuer did not assail him—and he crossed the Potomac, and descended + to the Rapidan, to strike in turn that dangerous blow in October, when + Meade was nearly cut off from Washington. + </p> + <p> + With that campaign of Bristoe, and the fiasco of Mine Run, the year of + 1863 ended. + </p> + <p> + It left the South bleeding, and what was worse,—discouraged. Affairs + were mismanaged. The army had scarcely sufficient meat and bread to live + on. The croakers, clad in black coats, and with snowy shirt bosoms, began + to mutter under their breath, “It is useless to struggle longer!”—and, + recoiling in disgust from the hard fare of “war times,” began to hunger + for the flesh-pots of Egypt. Manna was tasteless now; the task-master was + better than the wilderness and the scant fare. Oh! to sit by the + flesh-pots and grow fat, as in the days when they did eat thereof! Why + continue the conflict? Why waste valuable lives? Why think of still + fighting when flour was a hundred dollars a barrel, coffee twenty dollars + a pound, cloth fifty dollars a yard, and good whiskey and brandy not to be + purchased at any price? Could patriotism live amid trials like that? Could + men cling to a cause which made them the victims of Yankee cavalry? Why + have faith any longer in a government that was bankrupt—whose + promises to pay originated the scoffing proverb, “as worthless as a + Confederate note!” Meat and drink was the religion of the croakers in + those days. Money was their real divinity. Without meat and drink, and + with worthless money, the Confederacy, in their eyes, was not the side to + adhere to. It was unfortunate—down with it! Let it be + anathema-maranatha! + </p> + <p> + The croakers said that—and the brave hearts whom they insulted could + not silence them. There were stout souls in black coats—but the + croakers distilled their poison, working busily in the darkness. It was + the croakers who bought up the supplies, and hoarded them in garrets, and + retailed them in driblets, thereby causing the enormous prices which, + according to them, foretold the coming downfall. They evaded the conscript + officers; grew fat on their extortions; and one day you would miss them + from their accustomed haunts—they had flitted across the Potomac, + and were drinking their wine in New York, London, or Paris. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, three classes of persons remained faithful to the death:—the + old men, the army, and the women. + </p> + <p> + The gray-beards were taking down their old guns and swords, and forming + home-battalions, to fight the enemy to the death when his cavalry came to + lay waste the country. + </p> + <p> + The women were weaving homespun, knitting socks, nursing the wounded, and + praying. They had never ceased to pray, nor had they lost the heart of + hope. The croakers believed in success, and their patron saint was Mammon. + The women believed in the justice of the cause, and in God. In 1861, they + had cheered the soldiers, and waved their handkerchiefs, and rained + bouquets. In 1862, they had sent brave words of encouragement, and bade + their sons, and brothers, and husbands fight to the end. In 1863, they + repeated that—sent the laggards back to the ranks—and when + they were not sewing, or nursing the sick, were praying. O women of + Virginia, and the great South to her farthest limits, there is nothing in + all history that surpasses your grand record! You hoped, in the dark days + as in the bright;—when bearded men shrunk, you fronted the storm + unmoved! Always you hoped, and endured, and prayed for the land. Had the + rest done their duty like the women and the army, the red-cross flag would + be floating to-day in triumph! + </p> + <p> + The army—that was unshaken. Gettysburg had not broken its strength, + nor affected its stout manhood. Lee’s old soldiers believed in him after + Gettysburg, in the winter of ‘63, as they had believed in him after + Fredericksburg, in the winter of ‘62. They had confidence still in their + great leader, and in their cause. The wide gaps in their ranks did not + dismay them; want of food did not discourage them; hunger, hardships, + nakedness, defeat,—they had borne these in the past, they were + bearing them still, they were ready to bear them in the future. War did + not fright them—though the coming conflict was plainly going to be + more bitter than any before. The great array of Grant on the north bank of + the Rapidan did not depress them—had they not met and defeated at + Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville a force as great, and could not they + do it again? + </p> + <p> + So they lay in their camps on the Rapidan, in that cold winter of 1863—a + little army of ragged and hungry men, with gaunt faces, wasted forms, + shoeless feet; with nothing to encourage them but the cause, past + victories, and Lee’s presence. That was much; what was enough, however, + was the blood in their veins; the inspiration of the great race of + fighting men from whom they derived their origin. Does any one laugh at + that? The winner will—but the truth remains. + </p> + <p> + That ragged and famished army came of a fighting race. It was starving and + dying, but it was going to fight to the last. + </p> + <p> + When the cannon began to roar in May, 1864, these gaunt veterans were in + line, with ragged coats, but burnished bayonets. When Lee, the gray + cavalier, rode along their lines, the woods thundered with a cheer which + said, “Ready!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. — HAMMER AND RAPIER. + </h2> + <p> + I pass to the great collision of armies in the first days of May. + </p> + <p> + Why say any thing of that dark episode called “Dahlgren’s raid?” A full + account would be too long—a brief sketch too short. And whatever our + Northern friends may think, it is not agreeable to us to dwell on that + outrage. Was that <i>war</i>? Was it civilized warfare to march in the + darkness upon a city full of women and children—to plan the + assassination of the Southern President and his cabinet; the destruction + of the city by the torch; the release of the Federal prisoners at Belle + Isle, to be let loose afterward with fire and sword on Richmond? + </p> + <p> + Alas! all that was planned. The orders were captured, and exist still. Was + that war? I repeat. Answer, friends of the North. Or, did you think us + mere wild beasts? + </p> + <p> + I omit all that, passing on to the real fighting. + </p> + <p> + General Ulysses S. Grant had been appointed commander-in-chief of the + armies of the United States, and had taken command in person of the army + of the Potomac, confronting Lee on the Rapidan. + </p> + <p> + Before the curtain rises, and the cannon begin to roar, let us glance at + the relative numbers, and the programme of the Federal leader. + </p> + <p> + Grant’s “available force present for duty, May 1, 1864,” was, according to + the report of the Federal Secretary of War, 141,166 men. + </p> + <p> + Lee’s force, “present for duty,” as his army rolls will show, was 52,626 + men. That is to say, rather more than one-third of his adversary’s. + </p> + <p> + Lee afterward received about 10,000 re-enforcements from Beauregard’s + columns. Grant received about 50,000. + </p> + <p> + With about 62,000 men Lee repulsed the attacks of Grant with about 200,000 + men, from the Rapidan to Petersburg—inflicting a loss on his + adversary, by the Federal statement of more than 60,000 men. + </p> + <p> + These numbers may be denied, but the proof is on record. + </p> + <p> + The programme of General Grant in the approaching campaign was one of very + great simplicity. He intended to “hammer continuously” as he wrote to + President Lincoln, and crush his adversary at whatever expense of money + and blood. From 1861 to 1864, war had been war, such as the world + understands it. Pitched battles had been fought—defeats sustained—or + victories gained. + </p> + <p> + Then the adversaries rested before new pitched battles: more defeats or + victories. General Grant had determined to change all that. It had been + tried, and had failed. He possessed a gigantic weapon, the army of the + United States. In his grasp was a huge sledge-hammer—the army of the + Potomac. He was going to clutch that tremendous weapon, whirl it aloft + like a new Vulcan, and strike straight at Lee’s crest, and try to end him. + If one blow did not suffice, he was going to try another. If that failed, + in its turn, he would strike another and another. All the year was before + him; there were new men to fill the places of those who fell; blood might + gush in torrents, but the end was worth the cost. Would it hurl a hundred + thousand men into bloody graves? That was unfortunate, but unavoidable. + Would the struggle frighten and horrify the world? It was possible. But + these things were unimportant. The rebellion must be crushed. The + sledge-hammer must strike until Lee’s keen rapier was shattered. Hammer + and rapier were matched against each other—the combat was <i>à + l’outrance</i>—the hammer must beat down the rapier, or fall from + the grasp of him who wielded it. + </p> + <p> + Such was the programme of General Grant. It was not war exactly, in the + old acceptation of the term. It was not taught by Jomini, or practised by + Napoleon. You would have said, indeed, at the first glance, that it + rejected the idea of generalship <i>in toto</i>. Let us give General Grant + his just dues, however. He was not a great commander, but he <i>was</i> a + man of clear brain. He saw that brute force could alone shatter the army + of Northern Virginia; that to wear it away by attrition, exhaust its blood + drop by drop, was the only thing left—and he had the courage to + adopt that programme. + </p> + <p> + To come back to events on the Rapidan in the month of May, 1864. + </p> + <p> + Lee is ready for the great collision, now seen to be inevitable. His + right, under Ewell, occupies the works on the southern bank of the + Rapidan, above Chancellorsville. His centre, under A.P. Hill, lies near + Orange Court-House. His left, under Longstreet, is in reserve near + Gordonsville. + </p> + <p> + The army of Northern Virginia is thus posted in echelon of corps, + extending from Gordonsville, by Orange, toward the fords of the Rapidan. + </p> + <p> + When the enemy cross on their great advance, Ewell is ready to face east; + Hill will close in on his right; and Longstreet in the same manner on + Hill’s right. Then the army will be in line, ready to strike at Grant’s + flank as he moves through the Wilderness. + </p> + <p> + For Lee is going to strike at him. The fifty thousand are going to order + the one hundred and forty thousand to halt. + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s cavalry is watching. It extends from Madison Court-House, along + Robertson River, on the left of the army; and on the right, from Ewell’s + camps, past Chancellorsville, to Fredericksburg. + </p> + <p> + Such was the situation on the first of May. The two tigers were watching + each other—and one was about to spring. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. — FORT DELAWARE. + </h2> + <p> + To descend now from the heights of generalization to the plains of + incident and personal observation. + </p> + <p> + For this volume is not a history of the war in Virginia, but the memoirs + of a staff officer belonging to Stuart’s cavalry. + </p> + <p> + May, 1864, had come; we were soon to be in the saddle; the thundering + hammer of General Grant was about to commence its performances. + </p> + <p> + One night—it was the night of the first of May—I was sitting + in General Stuart’s tent, looking into his blazing log fire, and musing. + In this luxury I was not interrupted. It was nearly midnight, and the rest + of the staff had retired. Stuart was writing at his desk, by the light of + a candle in a captured “camp candlestick,” and from time to time, without + turning his head, ejaculated some brief words upon any subject which came + into his head. + </p> + <p> + After writing ten minutes, he now said briefly:— + </p> + <p> + “Surry.” + </p> + <p> + “General,” was my as brief response.” + </p> + <p> + “I think Mohun was a friend of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general, we became intimate on the march to Gettysburg.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have just received his commission—” + </p> + <p> + “You mean as—” + </p> + <p> + “Brigadier-general. You know I long ago applied for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew that—pity he has not been exchanged.” + </p> + <p> + “A great pity,—and you miss a pleasure I promised myself I would + give you.” + </p> + <p> + “What pleasure, general?” + </p> + <p> + “To take Mohun his commission with your own hands.” + </p> + <p> + “I am truly sorry I can not. You know he was terribly wounded, and we had + to leave him in Warrenton; then the enemy advanced; for a long time we + thought him dead. Thus I am sorry I am debarred the pleasure you offer. + Some day I hope to accept your offer.” + </p> + <p> + “Accept it now, colonel,” said a benignant voice at the door. I turned + suddenly, as did the general. At the opening of the tent, a head was seen—the + head passed through—was followed by a body,—and Mr. Nighthawk, + private and confidential emissary, glided in with the stealthy step of a + wild-cat. + </p> + <p> + He was unchanged. His small eyes were as piercing, his smile as benignant, + his costume—black coat, white cravat, and “stove-pipe” hat—as + clerical as before. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, gentlemen,” said Mr. Nighthawk, smiling sweetly; “I bring + news of Colonel Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + “And fly in like an owl, or your namesake!” laughed Stuart. + </p> + <p> + “An owl? I am told that is the bird of wisdom, gentlemen!” + </p> + <p> + “You hit the nail on the head, when you said ‘gentlemen!’”{1} replied + Stuart, laughing; “but how about Mohun? Is he exchanged, Nighthawk?” + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: A favorite phrase of Stuart’s.} + </p> + <p> + And Stuart wheeled round and pointed to a chair. + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk sat down modestly. + </p> + <p> + “Not exchanged, exactly, general; but safe!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “He escaped?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, general.” + </p> + <p> + “And you helped him?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! You really are a trump, Nighthawk—and you seem to have a + peculiar fancy for Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + “He is the best friend I have in the world, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that accounts for it. But how did he escape?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you in a few words, general. I rather pride myself on the + manner in which I conducted the little affair. You remember, Colonel Mohun + was very badly wounded when you defeated Kilpatrick at Buckland. It was in + a fight with Colonel Darke, of the Federal cavalry, who was also wounded + and left dying, as was erroneously supposed, at a small house on the + roadside, when you fell back. Colonel Mohun was left at Warrenton, his + wound being so severe that he could not be brought farther in his + ambulance, and here he staid until he was convalescent. His recovery was + miraculous, as a bullet had passed through his breast; but he is a + gentleman of vigorous constitution, and he rallied at last, but, + unfortunately, to find himself a prisoner. General Meade had reoccupied + the country, and Colonel Mohun was transferred from hospital to Fort + Delaware, as a prisoner of war. + </p> + <p> + “I have informed you, general,” continued Mr. Nighthawk, smiling, and + turning the rim of his black hat between his fingers, “that Colonel Mohun + was one of my best friends. For that reason, I went to see him at + Warrenton, and had arranged a very good plan for his escape, when, + unfortunately, he was all at once sent away, thereby disappointing all my + schemes. I followed, however, saw that he was taken to Fort Delaware, and + proceeded thither at once. You have probably not visited this place, + general, or you, colonel. It is a fort, and outside is a pen, or stockade + as it is called, covering two or three acres. Inside are cabins for the + prisoners, in the shape of a semicircle, and grounds to walk in, except in + the space marked off by the ‘dead line.’ If any prisoner crosses that he + is shot by the sentries, whose beat is on a platform running round upon + the top of the stockade. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I went to the place, and found that Colonel Mohun was confined with + other officers in the pen, where they had the usual Federal ration of + watery soup, bad meat, and musty crackers. For a gentleman, like himself, + accustomed before the war to every luxury that unbounded wealth could + supply, this was naturally disagreeable, and I determined to omit no + exertion to effect his escape. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, the rules of Fort Delaware are very strict, however. To + cross the ‘dead line’ is death; to attempt to burrow is confinement in + irons, and other degrading punishments; and to bribe the sentinels + invariably resulted in having the whole affair revealed, after they had + received the money. It really seemed as if Colonel Mohun were doomed to + the living death of a filthy prison until the end of the war, since + exchanges had ceased, and it was only by devising a ruse of very great + risk that I accomplished the end in view.” + </p> + <p> + “What was your plan, Nighthawk?” said Stuart, rising and moving to the + fireplace, where he stood basking in the warmth. “Original, I lay my life, + and—quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly that, general.” + </p> + <p> + And Nighthawk smiled sweetly. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. — THE UNIFORM. + </h2> + <p> + “I have always observed, general,” said Mr. Nighthawk, raising his eyes in + pious meditation, as it were, “that there is no better rule for a man’s + conduct in life than to make friends with the mammon of unrighteousness—people + in power.” + </p> + <p> + “A profound maxim,” laughed Stuart; “friends are useful—that was + your principle?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general; and I made one of the quartermaster of the post—a + certain major Woodby—who was exceedingly fond of the ‘root of all + evil.’ I made that gentleman’s acquaintance, applied for the place of + sutler in <i>the pen</i>; and this place I acquired by agreeing to pay a + heavy bonus in thirty days. + </p> + <p> + “This was Saturday night. On Monday morning I presented myself before the + gate, and demanded admittance as the newly appointed sutler of the pen. + </p> + <p> + “I was admitted, and taken before the officer of the day, in his quarters. + </p> + <p> + “‘Who are you?’ he asked, gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “‘The new sutler, lieutenant.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Where are your papers?’ + </p> + <p> + “I had them ready, and presented them to him. He read them carefully, + looked at me superciliously, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “‘That is wholly informal.’ + </p> + <p> + “I looked at him. He had a red nose. + </p> + <p> + “‘I have some excellent French brandy, captain,’ I said, promoting him. + </p> + <p> + “At sight of the portly flask which I drew half from my pocket and + exhibited to him, I saw his face relax. + </p> + <p> + “‘You are a keen fellow, and know the world, I perceive,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “And taking the flask, he poured out nearly a glass full of the brandy, + and drank it. + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you intend to keep that article of brandy?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “‘For my friends, captain,’ I replied, with a wink which he evidently + understood. + </p> + <p> + “‘Let me see your papers again.’ + </p> + <p> + “I unfolded them, and he glanced at them. + </p> + <p> + “‘All right—they are in regular form. There is the key of the + sutler’s shop, on that nail. Take possession.’ + </p> + <p> + “And my friend the captain emptied a second glass of the brandy, and made + me a sign that I could go. + </p> + <p> + “I bowed profoundly; took the key; and went and opened the sutler’s shop; + after which I strolled out to look at the prisoners in the area. The + sentinel had seen me visit the officer of the day, and go to the sutler’s + shop. + </p> + <p> + “Thus he did not interfere with me when I went into the area, as I was + obviously a good Union man and an employee of the post. + </p> + <p> + “Such was the manner in which I secured a private interview with Colonel + Mohun: we could talk without the presence of a corporal; and we soon + arranged the plan for his escape. + </p> + <p> + “I had determined to procure a Federal uniform, to be smuggled in to him, + and an hour afterward, I left him, promising to see him again as soon as I + could visit Wilmington, and return with the intended disguise. + </p> + <p> + “A strange piece of good fortune aided me, or rather accomplished my + purpose at once. I had scarcely returned to the sutler’s shop, and spread + some blankets to sleep upon, when the officer of the day came in, and I + saw at a glance that he was half intoxicated, in consequence of the large + amount of brandy which he had swallowed. In a thick and husky voice he + cursed the ‘stuff’ vended at the post, extolled ‘the article’ I carried, + and demanded another pull at the flask. I looked at him—saw that a + little more would make him dead-drunk—and all at once resolved on my + plan. + </p> + <p> + “This was,” continued Mr. Nighthawk, with modest simplicity, and smiling + as he spoke, “to make my friend, the officer of the day, dead-drunk, and + then borrow his uniform; and I succeeded. In half an hour he was maudlin. + In three-quarters of an hour, drunk. Five minutes afterward he fell out of + his chair, and began to snore, where he lay. + </p> + <p> + “I secured the door tightly, stripped off his uniform, then my own + clothing; put on his, and then replaced my own citizen’s dress over all, + concealed his cap and boots beneath my overcoat, wrapped the prostrate + lieutenant in my blankets for fear he would take cold, and going out, + locked the door and proceeded to the quarters of the prisoners. Again the + sentinel took no notice of me. I found Colonel Mohun in his ‘bunk.’ Ten + minutes afterward he had replaced his gray uniform with that of the + Federal lieutenant, and, watching the moment when the back of the sentinel + was turned, we walked together toward the gate of the pen. + </p> + <p> + “That was the moment of real danger. Outside the narrow gate another + sentinel was posted, and the man might be personally acquainted with the + officer of the day, or have noticed his appearance. Luckily, the guard had + been relieved about an hour before—the new sentinel had not seen the + officer of the day—and when Colonel Mohun put his head through the + little window beside the gate, ordering ‘Open!’ the gate flew open, the + sentinel presented arms as he passed, and I followed modestly—the + door banging-to behind us."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Fact.} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. — THE NOTE. + </h2> + <p> + “Thus the colonel was out of the pen,” continued Nighthawk, smiling. “The + rest was not very dangerous, unless the alarm were given. They might miss + the locked-up officer—he might have been seen to go into the + sutler’s shop—and I admonished Colonel Mohun, in a low tone, to + proceed as rapidly as possible in a direction which I pointed out. + </p> + <p> + “The path indicated led to a spot on the island where I had concealed a + small boat among some willows—and, once across on the mainland, I + hoped that the danger would be over. + </p> + <p> + “In spite of my admonitions, Colonel Mohun took his time. He is a cool + one! He even turned and walked toward the fort, which he carefully + examined—counting the guns, observing the ditches, and the ground + around it. + </p> + <p> + “‘That place could be taken, Nighthawk!’ he said, with a laugh. And he + continued to stroll around the place, receiving at every moment respectful + salutes from passing soldiers, which he returned with the utmost coolness, + and an air of authority which I never have seen surpassed. I declare to + you, general, that it made the sweat burst out on my forehead, and it was + fully an hour before we reached the boat. I sprung in and seized the oars, + for I saw a dozen soldiers approaching us from the direction of the fort. + </p> + <p> + “‘For heaven’s sake, sit down, colonel,’ I exclaimed; ‘in five minutes we + will be lost!’ + </p> + <p> + “He did not reply. He was feeling in the pockets of the lieutenant’s coat; + and drew out a note-book with a pencil attached. Then, as the men came + toward us, he began to write. I looked over his shoulder—a bad habit + I acknowledge, general—and I read these words:—- + </p> + <p> + “‘Colonel Mohun, C.S.A., presents his compliments to the commanding + officer of Fort Delaware, and recommends the 10-inch Columbiad in place of + the 30-lb. Parrotts on the bastion near the southern angle of the work. + </p> + <p> + “‘As Colonel M. is <i>en route</i> for Richmond <i>via</i> Wilmington, and + the train will soon pass, he is compelled to refrain from other + suggestions which occur to him. + </p> + <p> + “‘The commandant of the post will pardon the want of ceremony of his + departure. This distressing separation is dictated by necessity.’” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk smiled as he repeated the words of <i>Mohun’s note</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of a cooler hand, general? But I must end my long + story. The colonel wrote this note while the soldiers were coming toward + us. When they had come within ten steps, he beckoned to one of them—the + man came up, saluting—and the colonel said, ‘Take this note to the + commandant—go at once.’ + </p> + <p> + “My heart had jumped to my throat, general! The next moment I drew a good + long breath of real relief. The Federal soldier touched his cap, took the + note, and went back toward the fort. Without further delay, I pushed out + and rowed across to the mainland, where we soon arrived. + </p> + <p> + “Then we left the boat, struck into the fields, and pushed for the nearest + station on the railroad. On the way, I could not refrain from upbraiding + the colonel with his imprudence. He only laughed, however, and we went on + without stopping. An hour afterward we reached the station, and the + northern train soon came. We got in, the cars started, and we were <i>en + route</i> for Baltimore. Suddenly the dull sound of a cannon-shot came + from the direction of Fort Delaware. A moment afterward came another, and + then a third. + </p> + <p> + “‘A prisoner has escaped from Fort Delaware,’ said one of the passengers + near us, raising his eyes from a newspaper. Colonel Mohun laughed, and + said carelessly, without sinking his voice in the least, ‘Ten to one they + have found your friend, the lieutenant, Nighthawk!’ Such a man, general! + It was enough to make your blood run cold! I thought <i>I</i> was cool, + but I assure you, I never imagined a man could equal <i>that</i>. + </p> + <p> + “We reached Baltimore, made the connection with the train going west to + Wheeling, and disembarked at Martinsburg. There the colonel procured a + horse—rode to a friend’s on the Opequon—changed his blue dress + for a citizen’s suit, and proceeded to Staunton, thence to Richmond, and + yesterday rejoined his regiment, near Chancellorsville.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. — GENERAL GRANT’S PRIVATE ORDER. + </h2> + <p> + Stuart kicked a log, which had fallen on the hearth, back into the fire, + and said:— + </p> + <p> + “Well, Nighthawk, your narrative only proves one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What, general?” + </p> + <p> + “That the writer who hereafter relates the true stories of this war, will + be set down as a Baron Munchausen.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt of that, general.” + </p> + <p> + “This escape of Colonel Mohun, for instance, will be discredited.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter, it took place; but I have not told you what brought me over, + general.” + </p> + <p> + “Over?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, across the Rapidan. I did not go from Martinsburg to Richmond with + Colonel Mohun. I thought I would come down and see what was going on in + Culpeper. Accordingly I crossed the Blue Ridge at Ashby’s Gap, reached + Culpeper—and last night crossed the Rapidan opposite + Chancellorsville, where I saw Colonel Mohun, before whom I was carried as + a spy.” + </p> + <p> + “You bring news, then?” said Stuart, with sudden earnestness and + attention. + </p> + <p> + “Important news, general. The Federal army is about to move.” + </p> + <p> + “To cross?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where—when!—what force!” + </p> + <p> + “One hundred and forty thousand of all arms. I answer the last question + first.” + </p> + <p> + “And—” + </p> + <p> + “The army will advance in two columns. The right—of Sedgwick’s and + Warren’s corps—will cross at Germanna Ford. The left, consisting of + Hancock’s corps, at Ely’s ford below. They have pontoon and bridge trains—and + the movement will commence at midnight on the third—two days from + now.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart knit his brows, and buried his hand in his beard. Suddenly he + called out to the orderly:— + </p> + <p> + “Have two horses saddled in five minutes!” And seizing his hat, he said:— + </p> + <p> + “Get ready to ride to General Lee’s head-quarters with me, Nighthawk!” + </p> + <p> + The clerical looking emissary put on his respectable black hat. + </p> + <p> + “You are certain of this intelligence?” Stuart said, turning with a + piercing glance to him. + </p> + <p> + “Quite certain, general,” said Mr. Nighthawk, serenely. + </p> + <p> + “You were in the camps?” + </p> + <p> + “In all, I believe, and at army head-quarters.” + </p> + <p> + “You overheard your intelligence?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I captured it, general.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “A courier was sent in haste—I saw the commander-in-chief speaking + to him. I followed—came up with him in a hollow of the woods—and + was compelled to blow his brains out, as he would not surrender. I then + searched his body, and found what I wanted. There it is general.” + </p> + <p> + And Nighthawk drew forth a paper. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” exclaimed Stuart. + </p> + <p> + “Grant’s confidential order to his corps commanders, general, directing + the movements of his army.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart seized it, read it hastily, and uttered an exclamation of + satisfaction. Ten minutes afterward he was going at full speed, + accompanied by Nighthawk, toward General Lee’s head-quarters. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. — “VIRGINIA EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY!” + </h2> + <p> + Soon after daylight, on the next morning, Stuart was up, and writing + busily at his desk. + </p> + <p> + He was perfectly cool, as always, and his manner when I went in exhibited + no sort of flurry. But the couriers going and coming with dispatches + indicated clearly that “something was in the wind.” + </p> + <p> + I was seated by the fireplace when Stuart finished a dispatch and came + toward me. The next moment he threw himself upon a chair, leaned his head + upon my shoulder, and began to caress one of his dogs, who leaped into his + lap. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Surry, old fellow, we are going to get into the saddle. Look out + for your head!” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent advice,” I replied. “I recommend you to follow it.” + </p> + <p> + “You think I expose myself, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “In the most reckless manner.” + </p> + <p> + “For instance—come, an instance!” he laughed. + </p> + <p> + I saw Stuart was talking to rest himself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, at Mine Run, when you rode up to that fence lined with + sharpshooters—and they fired on us at ten paces, nearly.” + </p> + <p> + “In fact, you might have shot a marble at them—but I am not afraid + of any ball <i>aimed</i> at me."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “Then you believe in <i>chance</i>, general?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no chance, Surry,” he said, gravely. “God rules over all things, + and not a sparrow, we are told, can fall without his permission. How can + I, or you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, general, and I have always been convinced of your + religious faith.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe in God and our Saviour, with all my heart,” said Stuart, + solemnly. “I may not show it, but I feel deeply.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, you show it—to me at least—even in trifles,” + I said, moved by his earnestness. “Do you remember the other day, when an + officer uttered a sneer at the expense of a friend of his who had turned + <i>preacher</i>? You replied that the calling of a minister was the + noblest in which any human being could engage{1}—and I regretted at + that moment, that the people who laugh at you, and charge you with vicious + things, could not hear you.” + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + Stuart shook his head, smiling with a sadness on his lips which I had + never seen before. + </p> + <p> + “They would not believe me, my dear Surry; not one would give me credit + for a good sentiment or a pure principle! Am I not a drunkard, because my + face is burned red by the sun and the wind? And yet I never touched spirit + in all my life! I do not know the taste of it!{1} Am I not given to women? + And yet, God knows I am innocent,—that I recoil in disgust from the + very thought! Am I not frivolous, trifling,—laughing at all things, + reverencing nothing? And yet my laughter is only from high health and + animal spirits. I am young and robust; it is natural to me to laugh, as it + is to be pleased with bright faces and happy voices, with colors, and + music, and approbation. I am not as religious as I ought to be, and wish, + with all my heart, I had the deep and devout piety of that good man and + great military genius,{2} Stonewall Jackson. I can lay no claim to it, you + see, Surry; I am only a rough soldier, at my hard work. I am terribly + busy, and my command takes every energy I possess; but I find time to read + my Bible and to pray. I pray for pardon and forgiveness, and try to do my + duty, and leave the rest to God. If God calls me—and He may call me + very soon—I hope I will be ready, and be able to say, ‘Thy will be + done.’ I expect to be killed in this war;{3}—Heaven knows, I would + have my right hand chopped off at the wrist to stop it!{4}—but I do + not shrink from the ordeal before me, and I am ready to lay down my life + for my country."{5} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 2: His words.} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 3: His words.} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 4: His words.} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 5: His words.} + </p> + <p> + Stuart paused, and leaned his arm upon the rude shelf above the fireplace, + passing his hand over his forehead, as was habitual with him. + </p> + <p> + “A hard campaign is coming, Surry,” he said, at length, more cheerfully; + “I intend to do my duty in it, and deserve the good opinion of the world, + if I do not secure it. I have perilled my life many times, and shall not + shrink from it in future. I am a Virginian, and I intend to live or die + for Old Virginia! The tug is coming; the enemy are about to come over and + ‘try again!’ But we will meet them, and fight them like men, Surry! Our + army is small, but with strong hands and brave hearts much can be done. We + must be up and doing, and do our duty to the handle.{1} For myself, I am + going to fight whatever is before me,—to win victory, with God’s + blessing, or die trying! Once more, Surry, remember that we are fighting + for our old mother, and that Virginia expects every man to do his duty!” + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + His face glowed as he spoke; in his dazzling blue eyes burned the fire of + an unconquerable resolution, a courage that nothing seemed able to crush. + </p> + <p> + Years have passed since then, a thousand scenes have swept before me; but + still I see the stalwart cavalier, with his proud forehead raised, and + hear his sonorous voice exclaim:— + </p> + <p> + “Virginia expects every man to do his duty!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII. — WHAT OCCURRED AT WARRENTON. + </h2> + <p> + This conversation took place at an early hour of the morning. Two hours + afterward, I was in the saddle and riding toward Chancellorsville, with + the double object of inspecting the pickets and taking Mohun his + commission. + </p> + <p> + I have described in my former <i>Memoirs</i> that melancholy country of + the Wilderness; its unending thickets; its roads, narrow and deserted, + which seem to wind on forever; the desolate fields, here and there covered + with stunted bushes; the owls flapping their dusky wings; the + whip-poor-will, crying in the jungle; and the moccasin gliding stealthily + amid the ooze, covered with its green scum. + </p> + <p> + Strange and sombre country! lugubrious shades where death lurked! Already + two great armies had clutched there in May, 1863. Now, in May, ‘64, the + tangled thicket was again to thunder; men were going to grapple here in a + mad wrestle even more desperate than the former! + </p> + <p> + Two roads stretch from Orange Court-House to Chancellorsville—the + old turnpike, and the plank road—running through Verdiersville. + </p> + <p> + I took the latter, followed the interminable wooden pathway through the + thicket, and toward evening came to the point where the Ely’s Ford road + comes in near Chancellorsville. Here, surrounded by the rotting weapons, + bones and skulls of the great battle already fought, I found Mohun ready + for the battle that was coming. + </p> + <p> + He commanded the regiment on picket opposite Ely’s Ford; and was pointed + out to me at three hundred yards from an old torn down house which still + remains there, I fancy. + </p> + <p> + Mohun had dismounted, and, leaning against the trunk of a tree, was + smoking a cigar. He was much thinner and paler than when I had last seen + him; but his eye was brilliant and piercing, his carriage erect and proud. + In his fine new uniform, replacing that left at Fort Delaware, and his + brown hat, decorated with a black feather, he was the model of a cavalier, + ready at a moment’s warning to meet the enemy. + </p> + <p> + We exchanged a close grasp of the hand. Something in this man had + attracted me, and from acquaintances we had become friends, though Mohun + had never given me his confidence. + </p> + <p> + I informed him of Nighthawk’s visit and narrative, congratulated him on + his escape, and then presented him with his appointment to the grade of + brigadier-general. + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah for Stuart! He is a man to count on!” exclaimed Mohun, “and here + inclosed is the order for me to take command of four regiments!” + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you, Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope to do good work with them, my dear Surry—and I think they + are just in time.” + </p> + <p> + With which words Mohun put the paper in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “You know the latest intelligence?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but do not let us talk of it. Tell me something about yourself—but + first listen to a little narrative from me.” + </p> + <p> + And I described the visit which I had made with Tom Herbert to the house + near Buckland; the scene between Darke and his companion; and, to keep + back nothing, repeated the substance of their conversation. + </p> + <p> + Mohun knit his brows; then burst into a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he said, “so those two amiable characters are still bent on making + mince-meat of me, are they? Did you ever hear any thing like it? They are + perfect tigers, thirsting for blood!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more nor less,” I said; “the whole thing is like a romance.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “A perfect labyrinth.” + </p> + <p> + “The very word!” + </p> + <p> + “And I have not a trace of a key.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun looked at me for some moments in silence. He was evidently + hesitating; and letting his eyes fall, played with the hilt of his sword. + </p> + <p> + Then he suddenly looked up. + </p> + <p> + “I have a confidence to make you, Surry,” he said, “and would like to make + it this very day. But I cannot. You have no doubt divined that Colonel + Darke is my bitter enemy—that his companion is no less, even more, + bitter—and some day I will tell you what all that means. My life has + been a strange one. As was said of Randolph of Roanoke’s, ‘the fictions of + romance cannot surpass it.’ These two persons alluded to it—I + understand more than you possibly can—but I do <i>not</i> understand + the allusions made to General Davenant. I am <i>not</i> the suitor of his + daughter—or of any one. I am not in love—I do not intend to be—to + be frank with you, friend, I have little confidence in women—and you + no doubt comprehend that this strange one whom you have thrice met, on the + Rappahannock, in Pennsylvania, and near Buckland, is the cause.” + </p> + <p> + “She seems to be a perfect viper.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she not? You would say so, more than ever, if I told you what took + place at Warrenton.” + </p> + <p> + And again Mohun’s brows were knit together. Then his bitter expression + changed to laughter. + </p> + <p> + “What took place at Warrenton!” I said, looking at him intently. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, my dear friend—it was a real comedy. Only a poignard + played a prominent part in the affair, and you know poignards belong + exclusively to tragedy.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun uttered these words with his old reckless satire. A sort of grim and + biting humor was plain in his accents. + </p> + <p> + “A poniard—a tragedy—tell me about it, Mohun,” I said. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a moment. “Well, I will do so,” he said, at length. “It will + amuse you, my guest, while dinner is getting ready.” + </p> + <p> + “I am listening.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, to go back. You remember my fight with Colonel Darke near + Buckland?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; and I was sure that you had killed each other.” + </p> + <p> + “You were mistaken. He is not dead, and you see I am not. He was wounded + in the throat, but my sabre missed the artery, and he was taken to a house + near at hand, and thence to hospital, where he recovered. My own wound was + a bullet through the chest; and this gave me so much agony that I could + not be carried in my ambulance farther than Warrenton, where I was left + with some friends who took good care of me. Meanwhile, General Meade had + again advanced and occupied the place—I was discovered, and removed + as soon as possible to the Federal hospital, where they could have me + under guard. Faith! they are smart people—our friends the Yankees! + They are convinced that ‘every little helps,’ and they had no idea of + allowing that tremendous Southern paladin, Colonel Mohun, to escape! So I + was sent to hospital. The removal caused a return of fever—I was + within an inch of the grave—and this brings me to the circumstance + that I wish to relate for your amusement. + </p> + <p> + “For some days after my removal to the Federal hospital, I was delirious, + but am now convinced that much which I then took for the wanderings of a + fevered brain, was real. + </p> + <p> + “I used to lie awake a great deal, and one gloomy night I saw, or dreamed + I saw, as I then supposed, <i>that woman</i> enter my ward, in company + with the surgeon. She bent over me, glared upon me with those dark eyes, + which you no doubt remember, and then drawing back said to the surgeon:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Will he live?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Impossible to say, madam,’ was the reply. ‘The ball passed through his + breast, and although these wounds are almost always mortal, men do now and + then recover from them.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Will this one?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I cannot tell you, madam, his constitution seems powerful.’ + </p> + <p> + “I saw her turn as he spoke, and fix those glaring eyes on me again. They + were enough to burn a hole in you, Surry, and made me feel for some + weapon. But there was none—and the scene here terminated—both + retired. The next night, however, it was renewed. This time the surgeon + felt my pulse, touched my forehead, placed his ear to my breast to listen + to the action of the heart, and rising up said, in reply to madam’s + earnest glance of inquiry:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, I am sure he will live. You can give yourself no further anxiety + about your cousin, madam.’ + </p> + <p> + “<i>Her cousin</i>! That was not bad, you see. She had gained access, as I + ascertained from some words of their conversation, by representing herself + as my cousin. I was a member of her family who had ‘gone astray’ and + embraced the cause of the rebellion, but was still dear to her! Womanly + heart! clinging affection! not even the sin of the prodigal cousin could + sever the tender chord of her love! I had wandered from the right path—fed + on husks with the Confederate swine; but I was wounded—had come + back; should the fatted calf remain unbutchered, and the loving welcome be + withheld? + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>You can give yourself no further uneasiness about your cousin, madam</i>!’ + </p> + <p> + “Such was the assurance of the surgeon, and he turned away to other + patients, of whom there were, however, very few in the hospital, and none + near me. As he turned his back, madam looked at me. Her face was really + diabolical, and I thought at the moment that she was a nightmare—that + I <i>dreamed her</i>! Closing my eyes to shut out the vision, I kept them + thus shut for some moments. When I reopened them she was gone. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the surgeon’s predictions did not seem likely to be verified. My + fever returned. Throughout the succeeding day I turned and tossed on my + couch; as night came, I had some hideous dreams. A storm was raging + without, and the rain falling in torrents. The building trembled, the + windows rattled—it was a night of nights for some devil’s work; and + I remember laughing in my fever, and muttering, ‘Now is the time for + delirium, bad dreams, and ugly shapes, to flock around me!’ + </p> + <p> + “I fell into a doze at last, and had, as I thought, a decidedly bad dream—for + I felt certain that I was dreaming, and that what I witnessed was the + sport of my fancy. What I saw, or seemed to see, was this: the door opened + slowly—a head was thrust in, and remained motionless for an instant; + then the head moved, a body followed; madam, the lady of the dark eyes, + glided stealthily toward my cot. It was enough to make one shudder, Surry, + to have seen the stealthy movement of that phantom. I gazed at it through + my half-closed eyelids—saw the midnight eyes burning in the white + face half covered by a shawl thrown over the head—and, under that + covering, the right hand of the phantom grasped something which I could + not make out. + </p> + <p> + “In three quick steps <i>it</i> was beside me. I say <i>it</i>, for the + figure resembled that of a ghost, or some horrible <i>thing</i>. From the + eyes two flames seemed to dart, the lips opened, and I heard, in a low + mutter:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah! he is going to recover, then!’ + </p> + <p> + “As the words left the phantom’s lips, it reached my cot at a bound; + something gleamed aloft, and I started back only in time to avoid the + sharp point of a poniard, which grazed my head and nearly buried itself in + the pillow on which I lay. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I started up and endeavored to seize my assailant; but she suddenly + broke away from me, still clutching her weapon. Her clothing was torn from + her person—she recoiled toward the door—and I leaped from my + couch to rush after and arrest her. I had not the strength to do so, + however. I had scarcely taken three steps when I began to stagger. + </p> + <p> + “‘Murderess!’ I exclaimed, extending my arms to arrest her flight. + </p> + <p> + “It was useless. A few feet further I reeled—my head seemed turning + round—and again shouting ‘Murderess!’ I fell at full length on the + floor, at the moment when the woman disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “That was curious, was it not? It would have been a tragical dream—it + was more tragical in being no dream at all, but a reality. What had taken + place was simple, and easy to understand. That woman had come thither, on + this stormy night, to murder me; and she had very nearly succeeded. Had + she found me asleep, I should never have waked. Fortunately, I was awake. + Some noise frightened her, and she disappeared. A moment afterward one of + the nurses came, and finally the surgeon. + </p> + <p> + “When I told him what had taken place, he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, colonel, go back to bed,’ he said, ‘such dreams retard your + recovery more than every thing else.’ + </p> + <p> + “I obeyed, without taking the trouble to contradict him. My breast was + bleeding again, and I did not get over the excitement for some days. The + phantom did not return. I slowly recovered, and was taken in due time to + Fort Delaware—the rest you know. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot to tell you one thing. The surgeon almost persuaded me that I + had been the victim of nightmare. Unfortunately, however, for the theory + of the worthy, I found a deep hole in my pillow, where the poniard had + entered. + </p> + <p> + “So you see it was madam, and not her ghost, who had done me the honor of + a visit, Surry.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII. — THE GRAVE OF ACHMED. + </h2> + <p> + An hour afterward I had dined with Mohun at his head-quarters, in the + woods; mounted our horses; and were making our way toward the Rapidan to + inspect the pickets. + </p> + <p> + This consumed two hours. We found nothing stirring. As sunset approached, + we retraced our steps toward Chancellorsville. I had accepted Mohun’s + invitation to spend the night with him. + </p> + <p> + As I rode on, the country seemed strangely familiar. All at once I + recognized here a tree, there a stump—we were passing over the road + which I had followed first in April, 1861, and again in August, 1862, when + I came so unexpectedly upon Fenwick, and heard his singular revelation. + </p> + <p> + We had been speaking of Mordaunt, to whose brigade Mohun’s regiment + belonged, and the young officer had grown enthusiastic, extolling Mordaunt + as ‘one of the greatest soldiers of the army, under whom it was an honor + to serve.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, “there is a spot near here which he knows well, and where + a strange scene passed on a night of May, 1863.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you know the country, then?” said Mohun. + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly well.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you looking at?” + </p> + <p> + “That hill yonder, shut in by a thicket. There is a house there.” + </p> + <p> + And I spurred on, followed by Mohun. In five minutes we reached the + brush-fence; our horses easily cleared it, and we rode up the hill toward + the desolate-looking mansion. + </p> + <p> + I surveyed it intently. It was unchanged, save that the porch seemed + rotting away, and the window-shutters about to fall—that on the + window to the right hung by a single hinge. It was the one through which I + had looked in August, 1862. There was the same door through which I had + burst in upon Fenwick and his companion. + </p> + <p> + I dismounted, threw my bridle over a stunted shrub, and approached the + house. Suddenly I stopped. + </p> + <p> + At ten paces from me, in a little group of cedars, a man was kneeling on a + grave, covered with tangled grass. At the rattle of my sabre he rose, + turned round—it was Mordaunt. + </p> + <p> + In a moment we had exchanged a pressure of the hand; and then turning to + the grave:— + </p> + <p> + “That is the last resting-place of poor Achmed,” he said; adding, in his + deep, grave voice:— + </p> + <p> + “You know how he loved me, Surry.” + </p> + <p> + “And how you loved <i>him</i>, Mordaunt. I can understand your presence at + his grave, my dear friend.” + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt sighed, then saluted Mohun, who approached. + </p> + <p> + “This spot,” he said, “is well known to Colonel Surry and myself, Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + Then turning to me, he added:— + </p> + <p> + “I found a melancholy spectacle awaiting me here.” + </p> + <p> + “Other than Achmed’s grave?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; come, and I will show you.” + </p> + <p> + And he led the way into the house. As I entered the squalid and miserable + mansion, the sight which greeted me made me recoil. + </p> + <p> + On a wretched bed lay the corpse of a woman; and at a glance, I recognized + the woman Parkins, who had played so tragic a part in the history of + Mordaunt. The face was hideously attenuated; the eyes were open and + staring; the lower jaw had fallen. In the rigid and bony hand was a dry + and musty crust of bread. + </p> + <p> + “She must have starved to death here,” said Mordaunt, gazing at the + corpse. And, approaching it, he took the crust from the fingers. As he did + so, the teeth seemed grinning at him. + </p> + <p> + “Poor creature!” he said; “this crust was probably all that remained to + her of the price of her many crimes! I pardon her, and will have her + buried!” + </p> + <p> + As Mordaunt turned away, I saw him look at the floor. + </p> + <p> + “There is Achmed’s blood,” he said, pointing to a stain on the plank; “and + the other is the blood of Fenwick, who was buried near his victim.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember,” I murmured. And letting my chin fall upon my breast, I + returned in thought to the strange scene which the spot recalled so + vividly. + </p> + <p> + “There is but one other actor in that drama of whom I know nothing, + Mordaunt!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—” + </p> + <p> + “Violet Grafton.” + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt raised his head quickly. His eyes glowed with a serene sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “She is my wife,” he said; “the joy and sunlight of my life! I no longer + read <i>Les Misérables</i>, and sneer at my species—I no longer + scowl, Surry, and try to rush against the bullet that is to end me. God + has rescued a lost life in sending me one of his angels; and it was she + who made me promise to come hither and pray on the grave of our dear + Achmed!” + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt turned toward the door as he spoke, and inviting me to ride with + him, left the mansion. As I had agreed to stay with Mohun, I was obliged + to decline. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes afterward he had mounted, and with a salute, the tall form + disappeared in the forest. + </p> + <p> + We set out in turn, and were soon at Mohun’s bivouac. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV. — A NIGHT BIRD. + </h2> + <p> + I shared Mohun’s blankets, and was waked by the sun shining in my face. + </p> + <p> + My companion had disappeared, but I had scarcely risen when he was seen + approaching at full gallop. + </p> + <p> + Throwing himself from his horse, he grasped my hand, his face beaming. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Surry!” he exclaimed; “I have seen Mordaunt; my command is all + arranged; I have four superb regiments; and they are already in the + saddle.” + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you, my dear general! Make good use of them—and I + think you are going to have the opportunity at once.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right—the enemy’s cavalry are drawn up on the north bank of + the river.” + </p> + <p> + “Any firing in front?” + </p> + <p> + “They are feeling at all the fords.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going there?” + </p> + <p> + “At once.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go with you.” + </p> + <p> + And I mounted my horse which stood saddled near by. + </p> + <p> + Swallowing some mouthfuls of bread and beef as we rode on, we soon reached + Mohun’s command. It consisted of four regiments, drawn up in column, ready + to move—and at sight of the young <i>sabreur</i>, the men raised a + shout. + </p> + <p> + Mohun saluted with drawn sabre, and galloped to the front. + </p> + <p> + A moment afterward the bugle sounded, and the column advanced toward the + Rapidan, within a mile of which it halted—Mohun and myself riding + forward to reconnoitre at Germanna Ford, directly in our front. + </p> + <p> + The pickets were engaged, firing at each other across the river. On the + northern bank were seen long columns of Federal cavalry, drawn up as + though about to cross. + </p> + <p> + I rode with Mohun to the summit of the lofty hill near the ford, and here, + seated on his horse beneath a tree, we found Mordaunt. It was hard to + realize that, on the evening before, I had seen this stern and martial + figure, kneeling in prayer upon a grave—had heard the brief deep + voice grow musical when he spoke of his wife. But habit is every thing. On + the field, Mordaunt was the soldier, and nothing but the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he said, “the game is about to open,” pointing to the Federal + cavalry. “You remember this spot, and that hill yonder, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I replied, “and your charge there when we captured their artillery + in August, ‘62.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, a dull firing, which we had heard for some moments from the + direction of Ely’s Ford, grew more rapid. Five minutes afterward, an + officer was seen approaching from the side of the firing, at full speed. + </p> + <p> + When he was within a hundred yards, I recognized Harry Mordaunt. He was + unchanged; his eyes still sparkled, his plume floated, his lips were + smiling. + </p> + <p> + He greeted me warmly, and then turned to General Mordaunt, and reported + the enemy attempting to cross at Ely’s. + </p> + <p> + “I will go, then; will you ride with me, Surry? Keep a good look out here, + Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + I accepted Mordaunt’s invitation, and in a moment we were galloping, + accompanied by Harry, toward Ely’s. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see you again, colonel!” exclaimed the young man, in his gay + voice, “you remind me of old times, and a young lady was speaking of you + lately.” + </p> + <p> + “A certain Miss Fitzhugh, I will wager!” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no such person, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you are married!” + </p> + <p> + “Last spring; but I might as well be single! That’s the worst of this + foolishness,—I wish they would stop it! I don’t mind hard tack, or + fighting, or sleeping in the rain; what I do mind is never being able to + go home! I wish old Grant would go home and see <i>his</i> wife, and let + me go and see <i>mine</i>! We could then come back, and blaze away at each + other with some satisfaction!” + </p> + <p> + Harry was chattering all the way, and I encouraged him to talk; his gay + voice was delightful. We talked of a thousand things, but they interested + me more than they would interest the reader, and I pass on to matters more + important. + </p> + <p> + Pushing rapidly toward Ely’s, we soon arrived, and found the enemy making + a heavy demonstration there. It lasted throughout the day, and I remained + to witness the result. At sunset, however, the firing stopped, and, + declining Mordaunt’s invitation to share the blankets of his bivouac, I + set out on my way back to Orange. + </p> + <p> + Night came almost before I was aware of it, and found me following the + Brock road to get on the Orange plank road. + </p> + <p> + Do you know the Brock road, reader? and have you ever ridden over it on a + lowering night? If so, you have experienced a peculiar sensation. It is + impossible to imagine any thing more lugubrious than these strange + thickets. In their depths the owl hoots, and the whippoorwill cries; the + stunted trees, with their gnarled branches, are like fiends reaching out + spectral arms to seize the wayfarer by the hair. Desolation reigns there, + and you unconsciously place your hand on your pistol as you ride along, to + be ready for some mysterious and unseen enemy. + </p> + <p> + At least, I did so on that night. I had now penetrated some distance, and + had come near the lonely house where so many singular events had occurred. + </p> + <p> + I turned my head and glanced over my shoulder, when, to my surprise, I saw + a light glimmering through the window. What was its origin? The house was + certainly uninhabited, even by the dead—for Mordaunt had informed me + that a detail had, that morning, buried the corpse. + </p> + <p> + There was but one means of solving the mystery, and I leaped the fence, + riding straight toward the house; soon reaching it, I dismounted and threw + open the door. + </p> + <p> + What should greet my eyes, but the respectable figure of Mr. Nighthawk, + seated before a cheerful blaze, and calmly smoking his pipe! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV. — THE APPOINTMENT. + </h2> + <p> + As I entered, Mr. Nighthawk rose politely, without exhibiting the least + mark of astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, colonel,” he said, smiling, “I am glad to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “And I, never more surprised to see any one than you, here, Nighthawk!” + </p> + <p> + “Why so, colonel?” + </p> + <p> + I could not help laughing at his air of mild inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “Did I not leave you at our head-quarters?” + </p> + <p> + “That was two days ago, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “And this is your residence, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no residence, colonel; but am here, temporarily, on a little + matter of business.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! a matter of business!” + </p> + <p> + “I think it might be called so, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Which it would be indiscreet to reveal to me, however. That is a pity, + for I am terribly curious, my dear Nighthawk!” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk looked at me benignly, with a philanthropic smile. + </p> + <p> + “I have not the least objection to informing you, colonel. You are a + gentleman of discretion, and have another claim on my respect.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “You are a friend of Colonel Mohun’s.” + </p> + <p> + “A very warm one.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you can command me; and I will tell you at once that I am awaiting + the advance of General Grant.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Now I begin to understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I was sure you would at the first word I uttered, colonel. General Grant + will cross the Rapidan to-night—by to-morrow evening his whole force + will probably be over—and I expect to procure some important + information before I return to General Stuart. To you I am Mr. Nighthawk, + an humble friend of the cause, employed in secret business,—to + General Grant I shall be an honest farmer, of Union opinions, who has + suffered from the depredations of his troops, and goes to head-quarters + for redress. You see they have already stripped me of every thing,” + continued Mr. Nighthawk, waving his arm and smiling; “not a cow, a hog, a + mule, or a mouthful of food has been left me. They have destroyed the very + furniture of my modest dwelling, and I am cast, a mere pauper, on the cold + charities of the world!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nighthawk had ceased smiling, and looked grave; while it was I who + burst into laughter. His eyes were raised toward heaven, with an + expression of meek resignation; he spread out both hands with the + eloquence of Mr. Pecksniff; and presented the appearance of a virtuous + citizen accepting meekly the most trying misfortunes. + </p> + <p> + When I had ceased laughing, I said:— + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you on your histrionic abilities, Nighthawk. They deserve + to be crowned with success. But how did you discover this house?” + </p> + <p> + “I was acquainted with its former owner, Mrs. Parkins. She was a sister of + a friend of mine, whom I think you have seen, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “What friend?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Swartz, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Not the Federal spy?” + </p> + <p> + “The same, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom we saw last in the house between Carlisle and Gettysburg?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw him the other day,” returned Mr. Nighthawk, smiling sweetly. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible!” + </p> + <p> + “Near Culpeper Court-House, colonel. And, to let you into a little secret, + I expect to see him to-night.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at the speaker with bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “That man will be here!” + </p> + <p> + “If he keeps his appointment, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “You have an appointment?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “In this house?” + </p> + <p> + “To-night.” + </p> + <p> + “With what object, in heaven’s name!” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk hesitated for some moments before replying. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, colonel,” he said, “that I inadvertently mentioned my + appointment with Swartz without reflecting how singular it must appear to + you, unless I gave you some explanation. But I am quite at my ease with + you—you are a friend of Colonel Mohun’s—and I will explain, as + much of my business as propriety will permit. To be brief, I am anxious to + procure a certain document in Swartz’s possession.” + </p> + <p> + “A certain document?” I said, looking intently at the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Which Swartz has?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “And which he stole from the papers of Colonel Darke on the night of + Mohun’s combat with Darke, in the house near Carlisle?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nighthawk looked keenly at me, in turn. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you know that!” he said, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I saw him steal it, through the window, while the woman’s back was + turned.” + </p> + <p> + “I am deeply indebted to you, colonel,” said Mr. Nighthawk, gravely, “for + informing me of this fact, which, I assure you, is important. Swartz swore + to me that he had the paper, and had procured it in that manner, but I + doubted seriously whether he was not deceiving me. He is a <i>very</i> + consummate rascal, knows the value of that document, and my appointment + with him to-night is with an eye to its purchase from him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he will come?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so. He would sell his soul for gold.” + </p> + <p> + “And that woman? he seems to be her friend.” + </p> + <p> + “He would sell <i>her</i> for <i>silver</i>!” + </p> + <p> + After uttering which <i>bon mot</i>, Mr. Nighthawk smiled. + </p> + <p> + This man puzzled me beyond expression. His stealthy movements were strange + enough—it was singular to meet him in this lonely house—but + more singular still was the business which had brought him. What was that + paper? Why did Nighthawk wish to secure it? I gave up the inquiry in + despair. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, “I will not remain longer; I might scare off your friend, + and to eaves-drop is out of the question, even if you were willing that I + should be present.” + </p> + <p> + “In fact, colonel, I shall probably discuss some very private matters with + my friend Swartz, so that—” + </p> + <p> + “You prefer I should go.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nighthawk smiled; he was too polite to say “yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not afraid to meet your friend in this lonely place?” I said, + rising. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “You are armed?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nighthawk opened his coat, and showed me a brace of revolvers. + </p> + <p> + “I have these; but they are unnecessary, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Unnecessary?” + </p> + <p> + “I have an understanding with Swartz, and he with me.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “That we shall not employ the carnal weapon; only destroy each other by + superior generalship.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak in enigmas, Nighthawk!” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, my meaning is very simple. If I can have Swartz arrested and + hung, or he me, it is all fair. But we have agreed not to fight.” + </p> + <p> + “So, if you caught him to-night, you could have him hung as a spy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, colonel; but nothing would induce me to betray him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “I have given him my parol, that he shall have safe conduct!” + </p> + <p> + I laughed, bade Nighthawk good-bye, and left him smiling as I had found + him. In ten minutes I was again on the Brock road, riding on through the + darkness, between the impenetrable thickets. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI. — STUART SINGS. + </h2> + <p> + My reflections were by no means gay. The scenes at the lonely house had + not been cheerful and mirth-inspiring. + </p> + <p> + That grinning corpse, with the crust of bread in the bony fingers; that + stain of blood on the floor; the grave of Achmed; lastly, the appointment + of the mysterious Nighthawk with the Federal spy; all were fantastic and + lugubrious. + </p> + <p> + Who was Nighthawk, and what was his connection with Mohun? Who was Mohun, + and what had been his previous history? Who was this youth of unbounded + wealth, as Nighthawk had intimated, in whose life personages supposed to + be dead, but still alive, had figured? + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly, Mohun and Nighthawk are two enigmas!” I muttered, “and I give + the affair up.” + </p> + <p> + With which words I spurred on, and soon debouched on the Orange plank + road, leading toward Mine Run. + </p> + <p> + As I entered it, I heard hoof-strokes on the resounding boards, and a + company of horsemen cantered toward me through the darkness. As they came, + I heard a gay voice singing the lines:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I wake up in the morning, + I wake up in the morning, + I wake up in the morning, + Before the break o’ day!” + </pre> + <p> + There was no mistaking that gay sound. It was Stuart, riding at the head + of his staff and couriers. + </p> + <p> + In a moment he had come up, and promptly halted me. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that’s you, Surry!” he exclaimed with a laugh, “wandering about here + in the Wilderness! What news?” + </p> + <p> + I reported the state of things in front, and Stuart exclaimed:— + </p> + <p> + “All right; we are ready for them! Coon Hollow is evacuated—head-quarters + are in the saddle! Hear that whippoorwill! It is a good omen. Whip ‘em + well! Whip ‘em well!—and we’ll do it too!”{1} Stuart laughed, and + began to sing— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Never mind the weather + But get over double trouble! + We are bound for the Happy land of Lincoln!” + </pre> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + As the martial voice rang through the shadowy thickets, I thought, “How + fortunate it is that the grave people are not here to witness this + singular ‘want of dignity’ in the great commander of Lee’s cavalry!” + </p> + <p> + Those “grave people” would certainly have rolled their eyes, and groaned, + “Oh! how undignified!” Was not the occasion solemn? Was it not sinful to + laugh and sing? No, messieurs! It was right; and much better than rolling + the eyes, and staying at home and groaning! Stuart was going to fight hard—meanwhile + he sang gayly. Heaven had given him animal spirits, and he laughed in the + face of danger. He laughed and sang on this night when he was going to + clash against Grant, as he had laughed and sung when he had clashed + against Hooker—when his proud plume floated in front of Jackson’s + veterans, and he led them over the breastworks at Chancellorsville, + singing, “Old Joe Hooker, will you come out of the Wilderness!” + </p> + <p> + Stuart cantered on: we turned into the Brock road, and I found myself + retracing my steps toward the Rapidan. + </p> + <p> + As I passed near the lonely house, I cast a glance toward the glimmering + light. Had Nighthawk’s friend arrived? + </p> + <p> + We soon reached Ely’s Ford, and I conducted Stuart to Mordaunt’s bivouac, + which I had left at dusk. He had just wrapped his cloak around him, and + laid down under a tree, ready to mount at a moment’s warning. + </p> + <p> + “What news, Mordaunt?” said Stuart, grasping his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Some fighting this evening, but it ceased about nightfall, general.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart looked toward the river, and listened attentively. + </p> + <p> + “I hear nothing stirring.” + </p> + <p> + And passing his hand through his beard he muttered half to himself:— + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if Grant can have made any change in his programme?” + </p> + <p> + “The order at least was explicit—that brought by Nighthawk,” I said. + </p> + <p> + Stuart turned toward me suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder where he could be found? If I knew, I would send him over the + river to-night, to bring me a reliable report of every thing.” + </p> + <p> + I drew the general aside. + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you where to find Nighthawk.” + </p> + <p> + “Where.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I bring him?” + </p> + <p> + “Like lightning, Surry! I wish to dispatch him at once!” + </p> + <p> + Without reply I wheeled my horse, and went back rapidly toward the house + in the Wilderness. I soon reached the spot, rode to the window, and called + to Nighthawk, who came out promptly at my call. + </p> + <p> + “Your friend has not arrived?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “He will not come till midnight, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “When, I am afraid, he will not see you, Nighthawk—you are wanted.” + </p> + <p> + And I explained my errand. Nighthawk sighed—it was easy to see that + he was much disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, colonel,” he said, in a resigned tone, “I must give up my private + business—duty calls. I will be ready in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + And disappearing, he put out the light—issued forth in rear of the + house—mounted a horse concealed in the bushes—and rejoined me + in front. + </p> + <p> + “Swartz will not know what to think,” he said, as we rode rapidly toward + the river; “he knows I am the soul of punctuality, and this failure to + keep my appointment will much distress him.” + </p> + <p> + “Distress him, Nighthawk?” + </p> + <p> + “He will think some harm has happened to me.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Nighthawk smiled so sadly, that I could not refrain from laughter. + </p> + <p> + We soon reached the spot where Stuart awaited us. At sight of Nighthawk he + uttered an exclamation of satisfaction, and explained in brief words his + wishes. + </p> + <p> + “That will be easy, general,” said Nighthawk. + </p> + <p> + “Can you procure a Federal uniform?” + </p> + <p> + “I always travel with one, general.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Nighthawk unstrapped the bundle behind his saddle, drawing forth a + blue coat and trousers, which in five minutes had replaced his black + clothes. Before us stood one of the “blue birds.” Nighthawk was an + unmistakable “Yankee.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart gave him a few additional instructions, and having listened with + the air of a man who is engraving the words he hears upon his memory, + Nighthawk disappeared in the darkness, toward the private crossing, where + he intended to pass the river. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour afterward, Stuart was riding toward Germanna Ford. As we + approached, Mohun met us, and reported all quiet. + </p> + <p> + Stuart then turned back in the direction of Chancellorsville, where + Nighthawk was to report to him, before daylight, if possible. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII. — MOHUN RIDES. + </h2> + <p> + I lingered behind a moment to exchange a few words with Mohun. Something + told me that he was intimately connected with the business which had + occasioned the appointment between Nighthawk and Swartz—and at the + first words which I uttered, I saw that I was not mistaken. + </p> + <p> + Mohun raised his head quickly, listened with the closest attention, and + when I had informed him of every thing, said abruptly:— + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll keep Nighthawk’s appointment for him!” + </p> + <p> + “You!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear Surry—this is a matter of more importance than you + think. The business will not take long—the enemy will not be moving + before daylight—and you said, I think, that the appointment was for + midnight?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun drew out his watch; scratched a match which he drew from a small + metal case. + </p> + <p> + “Just eleven,” he said; “there is time to arrive before midnight, if we + ride well—will you show me the way?” + </p> + <p> + I saw that he was bent on his scheme, and said no more. In a few moments + we were in the saddle, and riding at full speed toward the house where the + meeting was to take place. + </p> + <p> + Mohun rode like the wild huntsman, and mile after mile disappeared behind + us—flitting away beneath the rapid hoofs of our horses. During the + whole ride he scarcely opened his lips. He seemed to be reflecting deeply, + and to scarcely realize my presence. + </p> + <p> + At last we turned into the Brock road, and were soon near the lonely + house. + </p> + <p> + “We have arrived,” I said, leaping the brushwood fence. And we galloped up + the knoll toward the house, which was as dark and silent as the grave. + </p> + <p> + Dismounting and concealing our horses in the bushes, we opened the door. + Mohun again had recourse to his match-case, and lit the candle left by + Nighthawk on an old pine table, and glanced at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “Midnight exactly!” he said; “we have made a good ride of it, Surry.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and now that I have piloted you safely, Mohun, I will discreetly + retire.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not remain, if you think it will amuse you, my dear friend?” + </p> + <p> + “But you are going to discuss your private affairs, are you not?” + </p> + <p> + “They are not private from you, since I have promised to relate my whole + life to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I remain; but do you think our friend will keep his appointment?” + </p> + <p> + “There he is,” said Mohun, as hoof-strokes were heard without. “He is + punctual.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0059" id="link2H_4_0059"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVIII. — THE SPY. + </h2> + <p> + A moment afterward we heard the new-comer dismount. Then his steps were + heard on the small porch. All at once his figure appeared in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + It was Swartz. The fat person, the small eyes, the immense double chin, + and the chubby fingers covered with pinchbeck rings, were unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + He was clad in citizens’ clothes, and covered with dust as from a long + ride. + </p> + <p> + Mohun rose. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, my dear Mr. Swartz,” he said coolly; “you see we await you.” + </p> + <p> + The spy recoiled. It was plain that he was astonished beyond measure at + seeing us. He threw a glance behind him in the direction of his horse, and + seemed about to fly. + </p> + <p> + Mohun quietly drew his revolver, and cocked it. + </p> + <p> + “Fear nothing, my dear sir,” he said, “and, above all, do not attempt to + escape.” + </p> + <p> + Swartz hesitated, and cast an uneasy glance upon the weapon. + </p> + <p> + “Does the sight of this little instrument annoy you?” said Mohun, + laughing. “It shall not be guilty of that impoliteness, Mr. Swartz.” + </p> + <p> + And he uncocked the weapon, and replaced it in its holster. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he continued, “sit down, and let us talk.” + </p> + <p> + Swartz obeyed. Before Mohun’s penetrating glance, his own sank. He took + his seat in a broken-backed chair; drew forth a huge red bandanna + handkerchief; wiped his forehead; and said quietly:— + </p> + <p> + “I expected to meet a friend here to-night, gentlemen, instead of—” + </p> + <p> + “Enemies?” interrupted Mohun. “We are such, it is true, my dear sir, but + you are quite safe. Your friend Nighthawk is called away; he is even + ignorant of our presence here.” + </p> + <p> + “But meeting him would have been different, gentlemen. I had his safe + conduct!” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have it from me.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask from whom?” said Swartz. + </p> + <p> + “From General Mohun, of the Confederate army.” + </p> + <p> + Swartz smiled this time; then making a grotesque bow, he replied:— + </p> + <p> + “I knew you very well, general—that is why I am so much at my ease. + I am pleased to hear that you are promoted. When I last saw you, you were + only a colonel, but I was certain that you would soon be promoted or + killed.” + </p> + <p> + There was a queer accent of politeness in the voice of the speaker. He did + not seem to have uttered these words in order to flatter his listener, but + to express his real sentiment. He was evidently a character. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Mohun, with his habitual accent of satire. “These little + compliments are charming. But I am in haste to-night—let us come to + business, my dear sir. I came hither to ask you some questions, and to + these I expect plain replies.” + </p> + <p> + Swartz looked at the speaker intently, but without suspicion. His glance, + on the contrary, had in it something strangely open and unreserved. + </p> + <p> + “I will reply to all your questions, general,” he said, “and reply + truthfully. I have long expected this interview, and will even say that I + wished it. You look on me as a Yankee spy, and will have but little + confidence in what I say. Nevertheless, I am going to tell you the whole + truth about every thing. Ask your questions, general, I will answer them.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun was leaning one elbow on the broken table. His glance, calm and yet + fiery, seemed bent on penetrating to the most secret recess of the spy’s + heart. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “now that we begin to understand each other, let us come + to the point at once. Where were you on the morning of the thirteenth of + December, 1856?” + </p> + <p> + Swartz replied without hesitation:— + </p> + <p> + “On the bank of Nottoway River, in Dinwiddie, Virginia, and bound for + Petersburg.” + </p> + <p> + “The object of your journey?” + </p> + <p> + “To sell dried fruits and winter vegetables.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you travelled in a cart, or a wagon?” + </p> + <p> + “In a cart, general.” + </p> + <p> + “You reached Petersburg without meeting with any incident on the way?” + </p> + <p> + “I met with two very curious ones, general. I see you know something about + the affair, and are anxious to know every thing. I will tell you the whole + truth; but it will be best to let me do it in my own way.” + </p> + <p> + “Do so, then,” said Mohun, fixing his eyes more intently upon the spy. + </p> + <p> + Swartz was silent again for more than a minute, gazing on the floor. Then + he raised his head, passed his red handkerchief over his brow, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “To begin at the beginning, general. At the time you speak of, December, + 1856, I was a small landholder in Dinwiddie, and made my living by carting + vegetables and garden-truck to Petersburg. Well, one morning in winter—you + remind me that it was the thirteenth of December,—I set out, as + usual, in my cart drawn by an old mule, with a good load on board, to go + by way of Monk’s Neck. I had not gone two miles, however, when passing + through a lonely piece of woods on the bank of the river, I heard a + strange cry in the brush. It was the most startling you can think of, and + made my heart stop beating. I jumped down from my cart, left it standing + in the narrow road, and went to the spot. It was a strange sight I saw. On + the bank of the river, I saw a woman lying drenched with water, and + half-dead. She was richly dressed, and of very great beauty—but I + never saw any human face so pale, or clothes more torn and draggled.” + </p> + <p> + The spy paused. Mohun shaded his eyes from the light, with his hands, and + said coolly:— + </p> + <p> + “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, general—that was enough to astonish anybody—and what is + more astonishing still, I have never to this day discovered the meaning of + the woman’s being there—for it was plain that she was a lady. She + was half-dead with cold, and had cried out in what seemed to be a sort of + delirium. When I raised her up, and wrung the wet out of her clothes, she + looked at me so strangely that I was frightened. I asked her how she had + come there, but she made no reply. Where should I take her? She made no + reply to that either. She seemed dumb—out of her wits—and, to + make a long story short, I half led and half carried her to the cart in + which I put her, making a sort of bed for her of some old bags. + </p> + <p> + “I set out on my way again, without having the least notion what I should + do with her—for she seemed a lady—and only with a sort of idea + that her friends might probably pay me for my trouble, some day. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I went on for a mile or two farther, when a new adventure happened + to me. That was stranger still—it was like a story-book; and you + will hardly believe me—but as I was going through a piece of woods, + following a by-road by which I cut off a mile or more, I heard groans near + the road, and once more stopped my cart. Then I listened. I was scared, + and began to believe in witchcraft. The groans came from the woods on my + left, and there was no doubt about the sound—so, having listened for + some time, I mustered courage to go in the direction of the sound. Can you + think what I found, general?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” said Mohun, in the same cool voice; “tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “A man lying in a grave;—a real grave, general—broad and deep—a + man with a hole through his breast, and streaming with blood.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + And Mohun uttered a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Just as I tell you, general—it is the simple, naked truth. When I + got to the place, he was struggling to get out of the grave, and his + breast was bleeding terribly. I never saw a human being look paler. + ‘Help!’ he cried out, in a suffocated voice like, when he saw me—and + as he spoke, he made such a strong effort to rise, that his wound gushed + with blood, and he fainted.” + </p> + <p> + “He fainted, did he? And what did you do?” said Mohun. + </p> + <p> + “I took him up in my arms, general, as I had taken the woman, carried him + to my cart, when I bound up his breast in the best way I could, and laid + him by the side of the half-drowned lady.” + </p> + <p> + “To get a reward from <i>his</i> friends, too, no doubt?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, general, we must live, you know. And did I not deserve something + for being so scared—and for the use of my mule?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly you did. Is not the laborer worthy of his hire? But go on, sir—your + tale is interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “Tale, general? It is the truth—on the word of Swartz!” + </p> + <p> + “I no longer doubt now, if I did before,” said Mohun; “but tell me the end + of your adventure.” + </p> + <p> + “I can do that in a few words, general. I whipped up my old mule, and went + on through the woods, thinking what I had best do with the man and the + woman I had saved, I could take them to Petersburg, and tell my story to + the mayor or some good citizen, who would see that they were taken care + of. But as soon as I said ‘mayor’ to myself, I thought ‘he is the chief of + police.’ <i>Police</i>!—that is one of the ugliest words in the + language, general! Some people shiver, and their flesh crawls, when you + cut a cork, or scratch on a window pane—well, it is strange, but I + have always felt in that way when I heard, or thought of, the word, <i>police</i>! + And here I was going to have dealings with the said <i>police</i>! I was + going to say ‘I found these people on the Nottoway—one half-drowned, + and the other in a newly dug grave!’ No, I thank you! We never know what + our characters will stand, and I was by no means certain that mine would + stand that! Then the reward—I wished to have my lady and gentleman + under my eye. So, after thinking over the matter for some miles, I + determined to leave them with a crony of mine near Monk’s Neck, named + Alibi, who would take care of them and say nothing. Well, I did so, and + went on to Petersburg, where I sold my truck. When I got back they were in + bed, and on my next visit they were at the point of death. About that time + I was taken sick, and was laid up for more than three months. When I went + to see my birds at Monk’s Neck, they had flown!” + </p> + <p> + “Without leaving you their adieux?” + </p> + <p> + “No, they were at least polite. They left me a roll of bank notes—more + than I thought they had about them.” + </p> + <p> + “You had searched them, of course, when they were lying in your cart,” + said Mohun. + </p> + <p> + Swartz smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I acknowledge it, general—I forgot to mention the fact. I had found + only a small amount in the gentleman’s pocket-book—nothing on the + lady—and I never could understand where he or she had concealed + about their persons such a considerable amount of money—though I + suppose, in a secret pocket.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun nodded. + </p> + <p> + “That is often done—well, that was the last of them?” + </p> + <p> + Swartz smiled, and glanced at Mohun. + </p> + <p> + “What is the use of any concealment, my dear Mr. Swartz?” said the latter. + “You may as well tell the whole story, as you have gone this far.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, general, and I will finish. The war broke out, and I sold + my truck patch, and invested in a better business—that is, running + the blockade across the Potomac, and smuggling in goods for the Richmond + market. On one of these trips, I met, plump, in the streets of Washington, + no less a person than the lady whom I had rescued. She was richly dressed, + and far more beautiful, but there was no mistaking her. I spoke to her; + she recognized me, took me to her house, and here I found <i>the gentleman</i>, + dressed in a fine new uniform. He was changed too—his wound had long + healed, he was stout and strong, but I knew him, too, at a glance. Well, I + spent the evening, and when I left the house had accepted an offer made me + to combine a new business with that of blockade runner.” + </p> + <p> + “That of spy, you mean?” said Mohun. + </p> + <p> + Swartz smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You speak plainly, general. We call ourselves ‘secret agents’—but + either word expresses the idea!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0060" id="link2H_4_0060"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIX. — THE PAPER. + </h2> + <p> + Mohun raised his head, and looked Swartz full in the face. His glance had + grown, if possible, more penetrating than before, and a grim smile + responded to the unctuous expression of the spy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Mr. Swartz,” he said coolly, “that is a curious history. + Others might doubt its accuracy, but I give you my word that I do not! I + did well to let you proceed in your own way, instead of questioning you—but + I have not yet done; and this time shall return to the method of + interrogation.” + </p> + <p> + “At your orders, general,” said Swartz, whose quick glance showed that he + was on his guard, and foresaw what was coming. + </p> + <p> + Mohun leaned toward the spy. + </p> + <p> + “Let us proceed to ‘call names,’” he said. “The man you rescued from the + grave was Colonel Darke?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that his real name, or a false one?” + </p> + <p> + Swartz hesitated; then replied:— + </p> + <p> + “A false one.” + </p> + <p> + “His real name?” + </p> + <p> + “Mortimer.” + </p> + <p> + “And the lady is—?” + </p> + <p> + “His wife, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said Mohun, “you are well informed, I see, my dear Mr. Swartz; and + it is a pleasure to converse with a gentleman who knows so much, and knows + it so accurately.” + </p> + <p> + “You flatter my pride, general!” + </p> + <p> + “I do you justice—but to the point. Your story was cut off in the + middle. After the interview in Washington, you continued to see Colonel + Darke and his wife?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw them frequently, general.” + </p> + <p> + “In the army—and at their home, both?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did they live?” + </p> + <p> + “Near Carlisle, Pennsylvania.” + </p> + <p> + “Where you were on a visit, just before the battle of Gettysburg?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good!” + </p> + <p> + And rising quickly, Mohun confronted the spy, who drew back unconsciously. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the paper that you stole from the woman that night?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Swartz was unable to sustain the fiery glance directed toward him by + Mohun. + </p> + <p> + “Then Nighthawk has told you all!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Surry saw you hide the paper.” + </p> + <p> + Swartz looked suddenly toward me—his smiles had all vanished. + </p> + <p> + “The paper! give me the paper!” exclaimed Mohun; “you shall have gold for + it!” + </p> + <p> + “I have left it in Culpeper, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Liar!—give me the paper!” + </p> + <p> + Swartz started to his feet. + </p> + <p> + Mohun caught at his throat—the spy recoiled—when suddenly a + quick firing was heard coming rapidly from the direction of Germanna Ford. + </p> + <p> + “The enemy have crossed, Mohun!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + Mohun started, and turned his head in the direction of the sound. + </p> + <p> + “They are advancing!” I said, “but look out!—the spy!—” + </p> + <p> + Mohun wheeled, drawing his pistol. + </p> + <p> + Swartz had profited by the moment, when our attention was attracted by the + firing, to pass through the door, gain his horse at a bound, and throw + himself into the saddle, with an agility that was incredible in one so + fat. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment Mohun’s pistol-shot responded, but the bullet whistled + harmlessly over the spy’s head. In an instant he had disappeared in the + woods. + </p> + <p> + Mohun rushed to his horse, I followed, and we were soon riding at full + speed in the direction of the firing. + </p> + <p> + As we advanced, however, it receded. We pushed on, and reached the bank of + the Rapidan just as Mohun’s men had driven a party of the enemy over. + </p> + <p> + It was only a small body, who, crossing at a private ford and surprising + the sleepy picket, had raided into the thicket, to retire promptly when + they were assailed. + </p> + <p> + The affair was nothing. Unfortunately, however, it had enabled the Federal + spy to elude us. + </p> + <p> + Swartz had disappeared like a bird of the night; and all pursuit of him in + such a wilderness was impossible. + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward, I had rejoined Stuart. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXX. — GRANT STRIKES HIS FIRST BLOW. + </h2> + <p> + Such were the singular scenes which I witnessed, amid the shadows of the + Spottsylvania Wilderness, in the first days of May, 1864. + </p> + <p> + The narrative has brought the reader now to an hour past midnight on the + third of May. + </p> + <p> + An hour before—that is to say, at midnight precisely—the + Federal forces began to move: at six in the morning, they had massed on + the north bank of the Rapidan; and as the sun rose above the Wilderness, + the blue columns began to cross the river. + </p> + <p> + General Grant, at the head of his army of 140,000 men, had set forth on + his great advance toward Richmond—that advance so often tried, so + often defeated, but which now seemed, from the very nature of things, to + be destined to succeed. + </p> + <p> + Any other hypothesis seemed absurd. What could 50,000 do against nearly + thrice their number? What could arrest the immense machine rolling forward + to crush the Confederacy? A glance at Grant’s splendid array was enough to + make the stoutest heart sink. On this 4th day of May, 1864, he was + crossing the Rapidan with what resembled a countless host. Heavy masses of + blue infantry, with glittering bayonets—huge parks of rifled + artillery, with their swarming cannoneers—long columns of horsemen, + armed with sabre and repeating carbines, made the earth shake, and the + woods echo with their heavy and continuous tramp, mingled with the roll of + wheels. + </p> + <p> + In front of them, a little army of gaunt and ragged men, looked on and + waited, without resisting their advance. What did that waiting mean? Did + they intend to dispute the passage of that multitude toward Richmond? It + seemed incredible, but that was exactly the intention of Lee. + </p> + <p> + It is now known that General Grant and his officers felicitated themselves + greatly on the safe passage of the Rapidan, and were convinced that Lee + would hasten to retreat toward the South Anna. + </p> + <p> + Instead of retreating, Lee advanced and delivered battle. + </p> + <p> + The first collision took place on the 5th of May, when the Federal army + was rapidly massing in the Wilderness. + </p> + <p> + Ewell had promptly advanced, and about noon was forming line of battle + across the old turnpike, when he was vigorously attacked by Warren, and + his advance driven back. But the real obstacle was behind. Ewell’s rear + closed up—he advanced in his turn; assailed Warren with fury; swept + him back into the thicket; seized two pieces of his artillery, with about + 1,000 prisoners; and for the time completely paralyzed the Federal force + in his front. + </p> + <p> + Such was the first blow struck. It had failed, and General Grant turned + his attention to A.P. Hill, who had hastened up, and formed line of battle + across the Orange plank road, on Ewell’s right. + </p> + <p> + Hancock directed the assault here, and we have General Lee’s testimony to + the fact, that the Federal attempts to drive back Hill were “repeated and + desperate.” All failed. Hill stubbornly held his ground. At night the + enemy retired, and gave up all further attempts on that day to make any + headway. + </p> + <p> + Grant had expected to find a mere rear-guard, while Lee’s main body was + retreating upon Richmond. + </p> + <p> + He found two full corps in his front; and there was no doubt that a third—that + of Longstreet—was approaching. + </p> + <p> + Lee was evidently going to fight—his aim was, plainly, to shut up + Grant in the Wilderness, and drive him back beyond the Rapidan, or destroy + him. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXI. — THE REPORT. + </h2> + <p> + It was twilight and the fighting was over. + </p> + <p> + The two tigers had drawn back, and, crouching down, panted heavily,—resting + and gathering new strength for the fiercer conflict of the next day. + </p> + <p> + From the thickets rose the stifled hum of the two hosts. Only a few shots + were heard, now and then, from the skirmishers, and these resembled the + last drops of a storm which had spent its fury. + </p> + <p> + I had been sent by General Stuart with an order to General Hampton, who + commanded the cavalry on Hill’s right. + </p> + <p> + Hampton was sitting his horse in a field extending, at this point, between + us and the enemy; and, if it were necessary, I would draw his outline. It + is not necessary, however; every one is familiar with the figure of this + great and faithful soldier, in his old gray coat, plain arms and + equipments, on his large and powerful war-horse,—man and horse ready + for battle. In the war I saw many great figures,—Hampton’s was one + of the noblest. + </p> + <p> + Having delivered my message to General Hampton, who received it with his + air of grave, yet cordial courtesy, I turned to shake hands with Captain + Church—a thorough-bred young officer, as brave as steel, and one of + my best friends—when an exclamation from the staff attracted my + attention, and looking round, I saw the cause. + </p> + <p> + At the opposite extremity of the extensive field, a solitary horseman was + seen darting out of the woods occupied by the Federal infantry, and this + man was obviously a deserter, making his way into our lines. + </p> + <p> + At a sign from General Hampton, Captain Church went to meet him, and as my + horse was fresh, I accompanied my friend in his ride. + </p> + <p> + The deserter came on at full speed to meet us, and for a moment, his horse + skimmed the dusky expanse like a black-winged bird.{1} Then, all at once, + his speed moderated; he approached at a jog-trot, and through the + gathering gloom I recognised, above the blue uniform, the sweetly smiling + countenance of Nighthawk! + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: This scene is real.} + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, colonel,” said Nighthawk; “I am glad to see you again, and + hope you are well.” + </p> + <p> + “So you have turned deserter, Nighthawk?” I said, laughing heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely, colonel. I could not get off before. Will you inform me where + I can find General Stuart?” + </p> + <p> + “I will take you to him.” + </p> + <p> + And riding back with Captain Church and Nighthawk, I soon found myself + again in presence of General Hampton. + </p> + <p> + A word from me explained the real character of the pseudo-deserter. + General Hampton asked a number of questions, Nighthawk replied to them, + and then the latter begged me to conduct him to General Stuart. I did so + without delay, and we soon reached Stuart’s bivouac, where he was talking + with his staff by a camp-fire. + </p> + <p> + At sight of the blue figure he scarcely turned; then suddenly he + recognized Nighthawk, and burst into laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my blue night-bird!” he exclaimed, “here you are at last! What + news? Is Grant going to cross the river?” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk hung his head, and sighed audibly. + </p> + <p> + “I could not help it, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you come before?” + </p> + <p> + “It was impossible, general.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Strike that word out of your dictionary, my friend."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “That is good advice, general; but this time they nonplussed me. They + blocked every road, and I had to join their army.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hope you got the $600 bounty,” said Stuart, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “That was another impossibility, general; but I enjoyed the very best + society yonder.” + </p> + <p> + “What society, Nighthawk?” + </p> + <p> + “That of Grant, Meade, and Sedgwick.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my old friend, General Sedgwick! But where are Grant’s headquarters, + Nighthawk? Tell me every thing!” + </p> + <p> + “At Old Wilderness Tavern, general.” + </p> + <p> + “And you saw him there?” + </p> + <p> + “In the midst of his generals,—I was temporarily one of his + couriers.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand. Well, their intended movements?” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I could have foretold you those of to-day, general.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard General Meade dictating his order, through the window of his + head-quarters, and can repeat it <i>verbatim</i>, if you desire.” + </p> + <p> + “By all means, Nighthawk,—it will reveal his programme. But is it + possible that you can do so?” + </p> + <p> + “I can, general; I engraved every word on my memory.” + </p> + <p> + And, fixing his eyes intently upon vacancy, Nighthawk commenced in a low, + monotonous voice:— + </p> + <p> + “The following movements are ordered for the 5th May, 1864. General + Sheridan, commanding cavalry corps, will move with Gregg’s and Torbert’s + divisions against the enemy’s cavalry, in the direction of Hamilton’s + Crossing. General Wilson, with the Third cavalry division, will move at 5 + A.M., to Craig’s meeting-house, on the Catharpin road. He will keep out + parties on the Orange Court-House pike, and plank road, the Catharpin + road, Pamunkey road, and in the direction of Troyman’s store and Andrew’s + store, or Good Hope church. 2. Major-General Hancock, commanding Second + Corps, will move at 5 A.M., to Shady Grove church, and extend his right + toward the Fifth Corps at Parker’s store. 3. Major-General Warren, + commanding Fifth Corps, will move at 5 A.M., to Parker’s store, on the + Orange Court-House plank road, and extend his right toward the Sixth Corps + at Old Wilderness Tavern. 4. Major-General Sedgwick, commanding Sixth + Corps, will move to the Old Wilderness Tavern, on the Orange Court-House + pike, as soon as the road is clear.” + </p> + <p> + The monotonous voice stopped. I had listened with astonishment, and found + it difficult to credit this remarkable feat of memory, though it took + place before my eyes, or rather, in my ears. + </p> + <p> + “It is really wonderful,” said Stuart, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Nighthawk, returning to his original voice, so to speak, + “you see, general, this would have been of some importance yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very important now,” said Stuart; “it indicates Grant’s programme—his + wish to get out of the Wilderness. He is at Old Wilderness Tavern?” + </p> + <p> + “He was this morning, general, with Meade and Sedgwick.” + </p> + <p> + “You were there?” + </p> + <p> + “I was, general.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you gather, Nighthawk?” + </p> + <p> + “Little or nothing, general. True, I heard one or two amusing things as I + loitered among the couriers near.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “General Grant came out talking with Meade, Sedgwick, and Warren. General + Meade said, ‘<i>They have left a division to fool us here, while they + concentrate, and prepare a position toward the North Anna,—and what + I want is to prevent these fellows from getting back to Mine Run.</i>’”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + Stuart laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ‘these fellows’ don’t appear to be going back. What did Grant say?” + </p> + <p> + “He smoked, general.” + </p> + <p> + “And did not open his lips?” + </p> + <p> + “Only once, when General Meade said something about ‘manoeuvring.’” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “I can give you his words. He took his cigar from his lips—puffed + out the smoke—and replied, ‘<i>Oh! I never manoeuvre</i>!’”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “So much the better,” said Stuart: “the general that does not manoeuvre + sacrifices his men: and I predict that General Grant will soon alter his + programme.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart had ordered his horse to be saddled, and now mounted to go to + General Lee’s head-quarters. + </p> + <p> + “By the bye,” he said, “did you hear Warren or Sedgwick say any thing, + Nighthawk?” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I heard Sedgwick utter a few words, general.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “He said to Warren, ‘<i>I hear Hood is to take Stuart’s place. I am glad + of it, for Stuart is the best cavalry officer ever foaled in North America</i>!’”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0063" id="link2H_4_0063"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXII. — THE UNSEEN DEATH. + </h2> + <p> + The morning of the 6th of May was ushered in with thunder. + </p> + <p> + The battle of the preceding day had been a sort of “feeler”—now the + real struggle came. + </p> + <p> + By a curious coincidence, Grant and Lee both began the attack and at the + same hour. At five o’clock in the morning the blue and gray ranks rushed + together, and opened fire on each other. Or rather, they fired when they + heard each others’ steps and shouts. You saw little in that jungle. + </p> + <p> + I have already spoken more than once of this sombre country—a land + of undergrowth, thicket, ooze; where sight failed, and attacks had to be + made by the needle, the officers advancing in front of the line with drawn—compasses! + </p> + <p> + The assaults here were worse than night fighting; the combats strange + beyond example. Regiments, brigades, and divisions stumbled on each other + before they knew it; and each opened fire, guided alone by the crackling + of steps in the bushes. There was something weird and lugubrious in such a + struggle. It was not a conflict of men, matched against each other in + civilized warfare. Two wild animals were prowling, and hunting each other + in the jungle. When they heard each others’ steps, they sprang and + grappled. One fell, the other fell upon him. Then the conqueror rose up + and went in pursuit of other game—the dead was lost from all eyes. + </p> + <p> + In this mournful and desolate country of the Spottsylvania Wilderness, did + the bloody campaign of 1864 begin. Here, where the very landscape seemed + dolorous; here, in blind wrestle, as at midnight, did 200,000 men, in blue + and gray, clutch each other—bloodiest and weirdest of encounters. + </p> + <p> + War had had nothing like it. Destruction of life had become a science, and + was done by the compass. + </p> + <p> + The Genius of Blood, apparently tired of the old common-place mode of + killing, had invented the “Unseen Death,” in the depths of the jungle. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of May 6th, Lee and Grant had grappled, and the battle + became general along the entire line of the two armies. In these rapid + memoirs I need only outline this bitter struggle—the histories will + describe it. + </p> + <p> + Lee was aiming to get around the enemy’s left, and huddle him up in the + thicket—but in this he failed. + </p> + <p> + Just as Longstreet, who had arrived and taken part in the action, was + advancing to turn the Federal flank on the Brock road, he was wounded by + one of his own men; and the movement was arrested in mid career. + </p> + <p> + But Lee adhered to his plan. He determined to lead his column in person, + and would have done so, but for the remonstrances of his men. + </p> + <p> + “To the rear!” shouted the troops, as he rode in front of them; “to the + rear!” + </p> + <p> + And he was obliged to obey. + </p> + <p> + He was not needed. + </p> + <p> + The gray lines surged forward: the thicket was full of smoke and quick + flashes of flame: then the woods took fire, and the scene of carnage had a + new and ghastly feature added to it. Dense clouds of smoke rose, blinding + and choking the combatants: the flames crackled, soared aloft, and were + blown in the men’s faces; and still, in the midst of this frightful array + of horrors, the carnival of destruction went on without ceasing. + </p> + <p> + At nightfall, General Lee had driven the enemy from their front line of + works—but nothing was gained. + </p> + <p> + What <i>could</i> be gained in that wretched country, where there was + nothing but thicket, thicket! + </p> + <p> + General Grant saw his danger, and, no doubt, divined the object of his + adversary,—to arrest and cripple him in this tangle-wood, where + numbers did not count, and artillery could not be used. + </p> + <p> + There was but one thing to do—to get out of the jungle. + </p> + <p> + So, on the day after this weird encounter, in which he had lost nearly + 20,000 men, and Lee about 8,000, Grant moved toward Spottsylvania. + </p> + <p> + The thickets of the Wilderness were again silent, and the blue and gray + objects in the undergrowth did not move. + </p> + <p> + The war-dogs had gone to tear each other elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0064" id="link2H_4_0064"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIII. — BREATHED AND HIS GUN. + </h2> + <p> + In the din and smoke of that desperate grapple of the infantry, I have + lost sight of the incessant cavalry combats which marked each day with + blood. + </p> + <p> + And now there is no time to return to them. A great and sombre event drags + the pen. With one scene I shall dismiss those heroic fights—but that + scene will be superb. + </p> + <p> + Does the reader remember the brave Breathed, commanding a battalion of the + Stuart horse artillery? I first spoke of him on the night preceding + Chancellorsville, when he came to see Stuart, at that time he was already + famous for his “do-or die” fighting. A Marylander by birth, he had “come + over to help us:” had been the right-hand man of Pelham; the favorite of + Stuart; the admiration of the whole army for a courage which the word + “reckless” best describes;—and now, in this May, 1864, his familiar + name of “Old Jim Breathed,” bestowed by Stuart, who held him in high + favor, had become the synonym of stubborn nerve and <i>élan</i>, + unsurpassed by that of Murat. To fight his guns to the muzzles, or go in + with the sabre, best suited Breathed. A veritable bull-dog in combat, he + shrank at nothing, and led everywhere. I saw brave men in the war—none + braver than Breathed. When he failed in any thing, it was because reckless + courage could not accomplish it. + </p> + <p> + He was young, of vigorous frame, with dark hair and eyes, and tanned by + sun and wind. His voice was low, and deep; his manners simple and + unassuming; his ready laugh and off-hand bearing indicated the born + soldier; eyes mild, friendly, and full of honesty. It was only when + Breathed was fighting his guns, or leading a charge, that they resembled + red-hot coals, and seemed to flame. + </p> + <p> + To come to my incident. I wish, reader, to show you Breathed; to let you + see the whole individual in a single exploit. It is good to record things + not recorded in “history.” They are, after all, the real glory of the + South of which nothing can deprive her. I please myself, too, for Breathed + was my friend. I loved and admired him—and only a month or two + before, he had made the whole army admire—and laugh with—him + too. + </p> + <p> + See how memory leads me off! I am going to give ten words, first, to that + incident which made us laugh. + </p> + <p> + In the last days of winter, a force of Federal cavalry came to make an + attack on Charlottesville—crossing the Rapidan high up toward the + mountains, and aiming to surprise the place. Unfortunately for him, + General Custer, who commanded the expedition, was to find the Stuart horse + artillery in winter quarters near. So sudden and unexpected was Custer’s + advance, that the artillery camps were entirely surprised. At one moment, + the men were lying down in their tents, dozing, smoking, laughing—the + horses turned out to graze, the guns covered, a profound peace reigning—at + the next, they were running to arms, shouting, and in confusion, with the + blue cavalry charging straight on their tents, sabre in hand. + </p> + <p> + Breathed had been lounging like the rest, laughing and talking with the + men. Peril made him suddenly king, and, sabre in hand, he rushed to the + guns, calling to his men to follow. + </p> + <p> + With his own hands he wheeled a gun round, drove home a charge, and + trained the piece to bear upon the Federal cavalry, trampling in among the + tents within fifty yards of him. + </p> + <p> + “Man the guns!” he shouted, in his voice of thunder. “Stand to your guns, + boys! You promised me you would never let these guns be taken!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + A roar of voices answered him. The bull-dogs thrilled at the voice of the + master. Suddenly the pieces spouted flame; shell and canister tore through + the Federal ranks. Breathed was everywhere, cheering on the cannoneers. + Discharge succeeded discharge; the ground shook: then the enemy gave back, + wavering and losing heart. + </p> + <p> + Breathed seized the moment. Many of the horses had been caught and hastily + saddled. Breathed leaped upon one of them, and shouted:— + </p> + <p> + “Mount!” + </p> + <p> + The men threw themselves into the saddle—some armed with sabres, + others with clubs, others with pieces of fence-rail, caught up from the + fires. + </p> + <p> + “Charge!” thundered Breathed. + </p> + <p> + At the head of his men, he lead a headlong charge upon the Federal + cavalry, which broke and fled in the wildest disorder, pursued by the + ragged cannoneers, Breathed in front, with yells, cheers, and cries of + defiance. + </p> + <p> + They were pursued past Barboursville to the Rapidan, without pause. That + night Stuart went after them: their officers held a council of war, it is + said, to decide whether they should not bury their artillery near + Stannardsville, to prevent is capture. On the day after this, they had + escaped. + </p> + <p> + In passing Barboursville, on their return from Charlottesville, one of the + Federal troopers stopped to get a drink of water at the house of a + citizen. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” asked the citizen. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we are retreating.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is after you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody but old Jim Breathed and his men, armed with fence-rails."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + Such was one of a dozen incidents in Breathed’s life. Let me come to that + which took place near Spottsylvania Court-House. + </p> + <p> + Grant had moved, as we have seen, by his left flank toward that place. + General Fitzhugh Lee opposed him on the way, and at every step harassed + the head of the Federal column with his dismounted sharp-shooters and + horse artillery. Near Spottsylvania Court-House, it was the stand made by + Fitz Lee’s cavalry that saved the position, changing the aspect of the + whole campaign. + </p> + <p> + Sent by Stuart with a message to the brave “General Fitz,” I reached him + near Spottsylvania Court-House, at the moment when he had just ordered his + cavalry to fall back slowly before the advancing enemy, and take a new + position in rear. + </p> + <p> + Two guns which had been firing on the enemy were still in battery on a + hill; upon these a heavy Federal skirmish line was steadily moving: and + beside the guns, Breathed and Fitzhugh Lee sat their horses, looking + coolly at the advancing line. + </p> + <p> + “Give them a round of canister, Breathed!” exclaimed General Fitz Lee. + </p> + <p> + Breathed obeyed, but the skirmish line continued bravely to advance. All + at once, there appeared in the woods behind them, a regular line of battle + advancing, with flags fluttering. + </p> + <p> + To remain longer on the hill was to lose the guns. The bullets were + whizzing around us, and there was but one course left—to fall back. + </p> + <p> + “Take the guns off, Breathed!” exclaimed the general; “there is no time to + lose! Join the command in the new position, farther down the road!” + </p> + <p> + Breathed looked decidedly unwilling. + </p> + <p> + “A few more rounds, general!” + </p> + <p> + And turning to the men, he shouted:— + </p> + <p> + “Give them canister!” + </p> + <p> + At the word, the guns spouted flame, and the canister tore through the + line of skirmishers, and the Federal line of battle behind; but it did not + check them. They came on more rapidly, and the air was full of balls. + </p> + <p> + “Look out for the guns, Breathed! Take them off!” exclaimed the general. + </p> + <p> + Breathed turned toward one of the pieces, and ordered:— + </p> + <p> + “Limber to the rear!” + </p> + <p> + The order was quickly obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “Forward!” + </p> + <p> + The piece went off at a thundering gallop, pursued by bullets. + </p> + <p> + “Only a few more rounds, general!” pleaded Breathed; “I won’t lose the + guns!” + </p> + <p> + “All right!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, the enemy rushed upon the single gun. + </p> + <p> + Breathed replied by hurling canister in their faces. He sat his horse, + unflinching. Never had I seen a more superb soldier. + </p> + <p> + The enemy were nearly at the muzzle of the piece. + </p> + <p> + “Surrender!” they were heard shouting; “surrender the gun!” Breathed’s + response was a roar, which hurled back the front rank. + </p> + <p> + Then, his form towering amid the smoke, his eyes flashing, his drawn sabre + whirled above his head, Breathed shouted,— + </p> + <p> + “Limber up!” + </p> + <p> + The cannoneers seized the trail; the horses wheeled at a gallop; the piece + was limbered up; and the men rushed down the hill to mount their horses, + left there. + </p> + <p> + Then around the gun seemed to open a volcano of flame. The Federal + infantry were right on it. A storm of bullets cut the air. The drivers + leaped from the horses drawing the piece, thinking its capture inevitable, + and ran down the hill. + </p> + <p> + In an instant they had disappeared. The piece seemed in the hands of the + enemy—indeed, they were almost touching it—a gun of the Stuart + horse artillery for the first time was to be captured! + </p> + <p> + That thought seemed to turn Breathed into a giant. As the drivers + disappeared, his own horse was shot under him, staggered, sunk, and rolled + upon his rider. Breathed dragged himself from beneath the bleeding animal, + rose to his feet, and rushing to the lead horses of the gun, leaped upon + one of them, and struck them violently with his sabre to force them on. + </p> + <p> + As he did so, the horse upon which he was mounted fell, pierced by a + bullet through the body. + </p> + <p> + Breathed fell upon his feet, and, with the edge of his sabre, cut the two + leaders out of the traces. He then leaped upon one of the middle horses—the + gun being drawn by six—and started off. + </p> + <p> + He had not gone three paces, when the animal which he now rode fell dead + in turn. Breathed rolled upon the ground, but rising to his feet, severed + the dead animal and his companion from the piece, as he had done the + leaders. + </p> + <p> + He then leaped upon one of the wheel-horses—these alone being now + left—struck them furiously with his sabre—started at a + thundering gallop down the hill—and pursued by a hail-storm of + bullets, from which, as General Lee says in his report, “he miraculously + escaped unharmed,” carried off the gun in safety, and rejoined the + cavalry, greeted by a rolling thunder of cheers. + </p> + <p> + Such was the manner in which Breathed fought his artillery, and the + narrative is the barest and most simple statement of fact. + </p> + <p> + Breathed came out of the war a lieutenant-colonel only. Napoleon would + have made him a marshal. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0065" id="link2H_4_0065"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIV. — MY LAST RIDE WITH STUART. + </h2> + <p> + More than one stirring incident marked those days of desperate fighting, + when, barricading all the roads, and charging recklessly, Stuart opposed, + at every step, Grant’s advance toward the Po. + </p> + <p> + But I can not describe those incidents. They must be left to others. The + pen which has paused to record that exploit of Breathed, is drawn onward + as by the hand of Fate toward one of those scenes which stand out, + lugubrious and bloody, from the pages of history. + </p> + <p> + From the moment when Grant crossed the Rapidan, Stuart had met the + horsemen of Sheridan everywhere in bitter conflict; and the days and + nights had been strewed all over with battles. + </p> + <p> + Now, on the ninth of May, when the two great adversaries faced each other + on the Po, a more arduous service still was demanded of the great sabreur. + Sheridan had been dispatched to sever General Lee’s communications, and, + if possible, capture Richmond. The city was known to be well nigh stripped + of troops, and a determined assault might result in its fall. Sheridan + accordingly cut loose a heavy column, took command of it in person, and + descended like a thunderbolt toward the devoted city. + </p> + <p> + No sooner, however, had he begun to move, than Stuart followed on his + track. He had no difficulty in doing so. A great dust-cloud told the + story. That cloud hung above the long column of Federal cavalry, + accompanied it wherever it moved, and indicated clearly to Stuart the + course which his adversary was pursuing. + </p> + <p> + If he could only interpose, with however small a force, between Sheridan + and Richmond, time would be given for preparation to resist the attack, + and the capital might be saved. If he failed to interpose, Sheridan would + accomplish his object—Richmond would fall. + </p> + <p> + It was a forlorn hope, after all, that he could arrest the Federal + commander. General Sheridan took with him a force estimated at 9,000. + Stuart’s was, in all, about 3,000; Gordon, who was not in the battle at + Yellow Tavern, included. That action was fought by Fitz Lee’s division of + 2,400 men all told. But the men and officers were brave beyond words; the + incentive to daring resistance was enormous; they would do all that could + be done. + </p> + <p> + Such was the situation of affairs on the 9th of May, 1864. + </p> + <p> + Stuart set out at full gallop on his iron gray, from Spottsylvania + Court-House, about three o’clock in the day, and reached Chilesburg, + toward Hanover Junction, just as night fell. + </p> + <p> + Here we found General Fitz Lee engaged in a hot skirmish with the enemy’s + rear-guard; and that night Stuart planned an attack upon their camp, but + abandoned the idea. + </p> + <p> + His spirits at this time were excellent, but it was easy to see that he + realized the immense importance of checking the enemy. + </p> + <p> + An officer said in his presence:— + </p> + <p> + “We won’t be able to stop Sheridan.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart turned at those words; his cheeks flushed; his eyes flamed, and he + said:— + </p> + <p> + “No, sir! I’d rather die than let him go on!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words} + </p> + <p> + On the next morning, he moved in the direction of Hanover Junction; riding + boot to boot with his friend General Fitz Lee. I had never seen him more + joyous. Some events engrave themselves forever on the memory. That ride of + May 10th, 1864, was one of them. + </p> + <p> + Have human beings a presentiment, ever, at the near approach of death? + Does the shadow of the unseen hand ever reveal itself to the eye? I know + not, but I know that no such presentiment came to Stuart; no shadow of the + coming event darkened the path of the great cavalier. On the contrary, his + spirits were buoyant beyond example, almost; and, riding on with General + Fitz Lee, he sang in his gallant voice his favorite ditties “Come out of + the Wilderness!” and “Jine the Cavalry!” + </p> + <p> + As he rode on thus, he was the beau ideal of a cavalier. His seat in the + saddle was firm; his blue eyes dazzling; his heavy mustache curled with + laughter at the least provocation. Something in this man seemed to spring + forward to meet danger. Peril aroused and strung him. All his energies + were stimulated by it. In that ride through the May forest, to attack + Sheridan, and arrest him or die, Stuart’s bearing and expression were + superbly joyous and inspiring. His black plume floated in the spring + breeze, like some knight-errant’s; and he went to battle humming a song, + resolved to conquer or fall. + </p> + <p> + Riding beside him, I found my eyes incessantly attracted to his proud + face; and now I see the great cavalier as then, clearly with the eyes of + memory. What a career had been his! what a life of battles! + </p> + <p> + As we went on through the spring woods, amid the joyous songs of birds, + all the long, hard combats of this man passed before me like an immense + panorama. The ceaseless scouting and fighting in the Shenandoah Valley; + the charge and route of the red-legged “Zouaves” at Manassas; the falling + back to the Peninsula, and the fighting all through Charles City; the + famous ride around McClellan; the advance and combats on the Rapidan and + Rappahannock, after Cedar Mountain; the night attack on Catlett’s, when he + captured Pope’s coat and papers; the march on Jackson’s flank, and the + capture of Manassas; the advance into Maryland; the fights at Frederick, + Crampton’s, and Boonsboro’, with the hard rear-guard work, as Lee retired + to Sharpsburg; his splendid handling of artillery on the left wing of the + army there; the retreat, covered by his cavalry; the second ride around + McClellan, and safe escape from his clutches; the bitter conflicts at + Upperville and Barbee’s, as Lee fell back; the hard fighting thereafter, + on the banks of the Rappahannock; the “crowding ‘em with artillery,” on + the night of Fredericksburg; the winter march to Dumfries; the desperate + battle at Kelly’s Ford; the falling back before Hooker; the battle of + Chancellorsville, when he succeeded Jackson; the stubborn wrestle of + Fleetwood; the war of giants below Upperville; the advance across Maryland + into Pennsylvania, when the long march was strewed all over with battles, + at Westminister, Hanover, Carlisle, Gettysburg, where he met and repulsed + the best cavalry of the Federal army; the retreat from Gettysburg, with + the tough affair near Boonsboro’; guarding the rear of the army as it + again crossed the Potomac; then the campaign of October, ending with + Kilpatrick’s route at Buckland; the assault on Meade’s head of column, + when he came over to Mine Run; the bold attack on his rear there; and the + hard, incessant fighting since Grant had come over to the Wilderness;—I + remembered all these splendid scenes and illustrious services as I rode on + beside Stuart, through the fields and forests of Hanover, and thought, + “This is one of those great figures which live forever in history, and + men’s memories!” + </p> + <p> + To-day, I know that I was not mistaken, or laboring under the influence of + undue affection and admiration. That figure has passed from earth, but + still lives! + </p> + <p> + Stuart is long dead, and the grass covers him; but there is scarce a foot + of the soil of Virginia that does not speak of him. He is gone, but his + old mother is proud of him—is she not? + </p> + <p> + Answer, mountains where he fought—lowlands, where he fell—river, + murmuring a dirge, as you foam through the rocks yonder, past his grave! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0066" id="link2H_4_0066"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXV. — “SOON WITH ANGELS I’LL BE MARCHING.” + </h2> + <p> + Let me rapidly pass over the events of the tenth of May. + </p> + <p> + Gordon’s little brigade had been ordered to follow on the rear of the + enemy, while Fitz Lee moved round by Taylorsville to get in front of them. + </p> + <p> + Stuart rode and met Gordon, gave the brave North Carolinian, so soon to + fall, his last orders; and then hastened back to Fitz Lee, who had + continued to press the enemy. + </p> + <p> + They had struck the Central railroad, but the gray cavaliers were close on + them. Colonel Robert Randolph, that brave soul, doomed like Gordon, + charged them furiously here, took nearly a hundred prisoners, and drove + them across the road. + </p> + <p> + At this moment Stuart returned, and pushed forward toward Taylorsville, + from which point he intended to hasten on and get in their front. + </p> + <p> + About four in the afternoon we reached Fork church, and the command halted + to rest. + </p> + <p> + Stuart stretched himself at full length, surrounded by his staff, in a + field of clover; and placing his hat over his face to protect his eyes + from the light, snatched a short sleep, of which he was very greatly in + need. + </p> + <p> + The column again moved, and that night camped near Taylorsville, awaiting + the work of the morrow. + </p> + <p> + At daylight on the 11th, Stuart moved toward Ashland. Here he came up with + the enemy; attacked them furiously, and drove them before him, and out of + the village, killing, wounding, and capturing a considerable number. + </p> + <p> + Then he put his column again in motion, advanced rapidly by the Telegraph + road toward Yellow Tavern, a point near Richmond, where he intended to + intercept the enemy—the moment of decisive struggle, to which all + the fighting along the roads of Hanover had only been the prelude, was at + hand. + </p> + <p> + Stuart was riding at the head of his column, looking straight forward, and + with no thought, apparently, save that of arriving in time. + </p> + <p> + He was no longer gay. Was it the coming event; was it the loss of sleep; + the great interest at stake; the terrible struggle before him? I know not; + but he looked anxious, feverish, almost melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “My men and horses are tired, jaded, and hungry, but all right,” he had + written to General Bragg, from Ashland. + </p> + <p> + And these words will serve in large measure to describe the condition of + the great commander himself. + </p> + <p> + I was riding beside him, when he turned to me and said, in a low tone:— + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember a conversation which we had at Orange, Surry, that night + in my tent?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general.” + </p> + <p> + “And what I said?” + </p> + <p> + “Every word is engraved, I think, upon my memory.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. Do not let one thing ever escape you. Remember, that I said what I + say again to-day, that ‘Virginia expects every man to do his duty!’” + </p> + <p> + “I will never forget that, general.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled, and rode on. For half a mile he was silent. Then I heard escape + from his lips, in a low, musing voice, a refrain which I had never heard + him sing before— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Soon with angels I’ll be marching!”{1} +</pre> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Real} + </p> + <p> + I know not why, but that low sound made me shiver. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0067" id="link2H_4_0067"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVI. — YELLOW TAVERN, MAY 11, 1864. + </h2> + <p> + Yellow Tavern! At the mention of that name, a sort of tremor agitates me + even to-day, when nearly four years have passed. + </p> + <p> + In my eyes, the locality is cursed. A gloomy cloud seems ever hanging over + it. No birds sing in the trees. The very sunshine of the summer days is + sad there. + </p> + <p> + But I pass to my brief description of the place, and the event which made + it one of the black names in Southern history. + </p> + <p> + Yellow Tavern is an old dismantled hostelry, on the Brook road, about six + miles from Richmond. Nothing more dreary than this desolate wayside inn + can be imagined. Its doors stand open, its windows are gone, the rotting + floor crumbles beneath the heel, and the winds moan through the paneless + sashes, like invisible spirits hovering near and muttering some lugubrious + secret. “This is the scene of some deed of darkness!” you are tempted to + mutter, as you place your feet upon the threshold. When you leave the spot + behind you, a weight seems lifted from your breast—you breathe + freer. + </p> + <p> + Such was the Yellow Tavern when I went there in the spring of 1864. Is it + different to-day? Do human beings laugh there? I know not; but I know that + nothing could make it cheerful in my eyes. It was, and is, and ever will + be, a thing accursed! + </p> + <p> + For the military reader, however, a few words in reference to the + topographical features of the locality are necessary. + </p> + <p> + Yellow Tavern is at the forks of the Telegraph and Mountain roads, six + miles from Richmond. The Telegraph road runs north and south—over + this road Stuart marched. The Mountain road comes into it from the + northwest. By this road Sheridan was coming. + </p> + <p> + Open the left hand, with the palm upward; the index finger pointing north. + The thumb is the Mountain road; the index-finger the Telegraph road; where + the thumb joins the hand is the Yellow Tavern in open fields; and Richmond + is at the wrist. + </p> + <p> + Toward the head of the thumb is a wood. Here Wickham, commanding Stuart’s + right, was placed, his line facing the Mountain road so as to strike the + approaching enemy in flank. + </p> + <p> + From Wickham’s left, or near it, Stuart’s left wing, under Lomax, extended + along the Telegraph road to the Tavern—the two lines thus forming an + obtuse angle. + </p> + <p> + On a hill, near Lomax’s right, was Breathed with his guns. + </p> + <p> + The object of this disposition of Stuart’s force will be seen at a glance. + Lomax, commanding the left, was across the enemy’s front; Wickham, + commanding the right, was on their flank; and the artillery was so posted + as to sweep at once the front of both Stuart’s wings. + </p> + <p> + The enemy’s advance would bring them to the first joint of the thumb. + There they would receive Lomax’s fire in front; Wickham’s in flank; and + Breathed’s transversely. The cross fire on that point, over which the + enemy must pass, would be deadly. Take a pencil, reader, and draw the + diagram, and lines of fire. That will show Stuart’s excellent design. + </p> + <p> + Stuart had reached Yellow Tavern, and made his dispositions before the + arrival of Sheridan, who was, nevertheless, rapidly advancing by the + Mountain road. Major McClellan, adjutant-general, had been sent to General + Bragg, with a suggestion that the latter should attack from the direction + of the city, at the moment when the cavalry assailed the Federal flank. + All was ready. + </p> + <p> + It was the morning of May 11th, 1864. + </p> + <p> + Never was scene more beautiful and inspiring. The men were jaded, like + their horses; but no heart shrank from the coming encounter. Stretching in + a thin line from the tavern into the woods on the right of the Mountain + road, the men sat their horses, with drawn sabres gleaming in the sun; and + the red battle-flags waved proudly in the fresh May breeze, as though + saluting Stuart, who rode in front of them. + </p> + <p> + Such was the scene at Yellow Tavern. The moment had come. At about eight, + a stifled hum, mixed with the tramp of hoofs, was heard. Then a courier + came at a gallop, from the right, to Stuart. The enemy were in sight, and + advancing rapidly. + </p> + <p> + Stuart was sitting his horse near Yellow Tavern when that intelligence + reached him. He rose in his saddle, took his field-glasses from their + leathern case, and looked through them in the direction of the woods + across the Mountain road. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, quick firing came on the wind—then, loud shouts. Stuart + lowered his glasses, shut them up, replaced them in their case, and drew + his sabre. + </p> + <p> + Never had I seen him present an appearance more superb. His head was + carried proudly erect, his black plume floated, his blue eyes flashed—he + was the <i>beau ideal</i> of a soldier, and as one of his bravest + officers{1} afterward said to me, looked as if he had resolved on “victory + or death.” I had seen him often aroused and strung for action. On this + morning he seemed on fire, and resembled a veritable king of battle. + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Breathed.} + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, the skirmish line of the enemy appeared in front of the woods, + and a quick fire was opened on Stuart’s sharp-shooters under Colonel Pate, + in the angle of the two roads; Stuart hastened to take the real + initiative. He posted two guns on a rising ground in the angle, and opened + a heavy fire; and galled by this fire, the enemy suddenly made a + determined charge upon the guns. + </p> + <p> + Stuart rose in his stirrups and gazed coolly at the heavy line advancing + upon him, and forcing Pate’s handful back. + </p> + <p> + “Take back the guns!” he said. + </p> + <p> + They were limbered up, and went off rapidly. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment Colonel Pate appeared, his men obstinately contesting + every foot of ground as they fell back toward the Telegraph road, where a + deep cut promised them advantage. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pate was a tall, fair-haired officer, with a ready smile, and a + cordial bearing. He and Stuart had bitterly quarrelled, and the general + had court-martialed the colonel. It is scarcely too much to say that they + had been deadly enemies. + </p> + <p> + For the first time now, since their collision, they met. But on this day + their enmity seemed dead. The two men about to die grasped each other’s + hands. + </p> + <p> + “They are pressing you back, colonel!” exclaimed Stuart. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general, I have but three skeleton squadrons! and you see their + force.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. You have done all that any man could. Can you hold this + cut?” + </p> + <p> + “I will try, general.” + </p> + <p> + Their glances crossed. Never was Stuart’s face kinder. + </p> + <p> + “If you say you will, you will do it! Hold this position to the last, + colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll hold it until I die, general."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + With a pressure of the hand they parted. + </p> + <p> + Fifteen minutes afterward, Pate was dead. Attacked at once in front and on + both flanks in the road, his little force had been cut to pieces. He fell + with three of his captains, and his handful were scattered. + </p> + <p> + Stuart witnessed all, and his eye grew fiery. + </p> + <p> + “Pate has died the death of a hero!”{1} he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “Order Wickham to dismount his brigade, and attack on the right!” he added + to Lieutenant Garnett, aid-de-camp. Twenty minutes afterward, Wickham’s + men were seen advancing, and driving the enemy before them. This relieved + the left, and Wickham continued to push on until he struck up against a + heavy line behind rail breastworks in the woods. + </p> + <p> + He then fell back, and each side remained motionless, awaiting the + movement of the other. + </p> + <p> + Such was the preface to the real battle of Yellow Tavern,—the + species of demonstration which preluded the furious grapple. + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s melancholy had all vanished. He was in splendid spirits. He + hastened back his artillery to the point from which it had been driven, + and soon its defiant roar was heard rising above the woods. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment a courier galloped up. + </p> + <p> + “What news?” + </p> + <p> + “A dispatch from Gordon, general.” + </p> + <p> + Stuart took it and read it with high good humor. + </p> + <p> + “Gordon has had a handsome little affair this morning,” he said; “he has + whipped them.” + </p> + <p> + And looking toward the northwest— + </p> + <p> + “I wish Gordon was here,"{1} he said. + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + The guns continued to roar, and the enemy had not again advanced. It was + nearly four o’clock. Night approached. + </p> + <p> + But the great blow was coming. + </p> + <p> + Stuart was sitting his horse near the guns, with Breathed beside him. + Suddenly the edge of the woods on the Mountain road swarmed with blue + horsemen. As they appeared, the long lines of sabres darted from the + scabbards; then they rushed like a hurricane toward the guns. + </p> + <p> + The attack was so sudden and overpowering, that nothing could stand before + it. For a short time the men fought desperately, crossing sabres and using + their pistols. But the enemy’s numbers were too great. The left was driven + back. With triumphant cheers, the Federal troopers pressed upon them to + drive them completely from the field. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, as the men fell back, Stuart appeared, with drawn sabre, among + them, calling upon them to rally. His voice rose above the fire, and a + wild cheer greeted him. + </p> + <p> + The men rallied, the enemy were met again, sabre to sabre, and the field + became a scene of the most desperate conflict. + </p> + <p> + Stuart led every charge. I shall never forget the appearance which he + presented at that moment; with one hand he controlled his restive horse, + with the other he grasped his sabre; in his cheeks burned the hot blood of + the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “Breathed!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “General!” + </p> + <p> + “Take command of all the mounted men in the road, and hold it against + whatever may come! If this road is lost, we are gone!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + Breathed darted to the head of the men and shouted:— + </p> + <p> + “Follow me!” + </p> + <p> + His sword flashed lightning, and digging the spur into his horse, he + darted ahead of the column, disappearing in the middle of a swarm of + enemies. + </p> + <p> + A superb sight followed. Breathed was seen in the midst of the Federal + cavalry defending himself, with pistol and sabre, against the blows which + were aimed at him on every side. + </p> + <p> + He cut one officer out of the saddle; killed a lieutenant with a pistol + ball; was shot slightly in the side, and a sabre stroke laid open his + head. But five minutes afterward he was seen to clear a path with his + sabre, and reappear, streaming with blood.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote: This incident, like all here related as attending this battle, + is rigidly true.} + </p> + <p> + The momentary repulse effected nothing. The enemy re-formed their line, + and again charged the guns, which were pouring a heavy fire upon them. As + they rushed forward, the hoofs of their horses shook the ground. A + deafening cheer arose from the blue line. + </p> + <p> + Stuart was looking at them, and spurred out in front of the guns. His eyes + flashed, and, taking off his brown felt hat, he waved it and cheered. + </p> + <p> + Then he wheeled to take command of a column of Lomax’s men, coming to meet + the charge. + </p> + <p> + They were too late. In a moment the enemy were trampling among the guns. + All but one were captured, and that piece was saved only by the terror of + the drivers. They lashed their horses into a gallop, and rushed toward the + Chickahominy, followed by the cannoneers who were cursing them, and + shouting:— + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake, boys, let’s go back! They’ve got Breathed! Let’s go back + to him!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Their words.} + </p> + <p> + That terror of the drivers, which the cannoneers cursed so bitterly, ended + all. The gun, whirling on at wild speed, suddenly struck against the head + of the column advancing to meet the enemy. A war-engine hurled against it + could not have more effectually broken it. Before it could re-form the + enemy had struck it, forced it back; and then the whole Federal force of + cavalry was hurled upon Stuart. + </p> + <p> + His right, where Fitz Lee commanded in person, was giving back. His left + was broken and driven. The day was evidently lost; and Stuart, with a sort + of desperation, rushed into the midst of the enemy, calling upon his men + to rally, and firing his pistol in the faces of the Federal cavalrymen. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, one of them darted past him toward the rear, and as he did so, + placed his pistol nearly on Stuart’s body, and fired. + </p> + <p> + As the man disappeared in the smoke, Stuart’s hand went quickly to his + side, he reeled in the saddle, and would have fallen had not Captain + Dorsay, of the First Virginia Cavalry, caught him in his arms. + </p> + <p> + The bullet had passed through his side into the stomach, and wounded him + mortally. In its passage, it just grazed a small Bible in his pocket. The + Bible was the gift of his mother—but the Almighty had decreed that + it should not turn the fatal bullet. + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s immense vitality sustained him for a moment. Pale, and tottering + in the saddle, he still surveyed the field, and called on the men to + rally. + </p> + <p> + “Go back,” he exclaimed, “and do your duty, as I have done mine! And our + country will be safe!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + A moment afterward he called out again to the men passing him:— + </p> + <p> + “Go back! go back! I’d rather die than be whipped!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + The old lightning flashed from his eyes as he spoke. Then a mist passed + over them; his head sank upon his breast; and, still supported in the + saddle, he was led through the woods toward the Chickahominy. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, Fitzhugh Lee, who had been stubbornly fighting on the right, + galloped up, and accosted Stuart. His face was flushed, his eyes moist. + </p> + <p> + “You are wounded!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Badly,” Stuart replied, “but look out, Fitz! Yonder they come!” + </p> + <p> + A glance showed all. In the midst of a wild uproar of clashing sabres, + quick shots, and resounding cries, the Federal cavalry were rushing + forward to overwhelm the disordered lines. + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s eye flashed for the last time. Turning to General Fitzhugh Lee, + he exclaimed in a full, sonorous voice:— + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead, Fitz, old fellow! I know you will do what is right!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + This was the last order he ever gave upon the field. As he spoke, his head + sank, his eyes closed, and he was borne toward the rear. + </p> + <p> + There was scarcely time to save him from capture. His wound seemed to have + been the signal for his lines to break. They had now given way everywhere—the + enemy were pressing them with loud shouts. Fighting with stubborn + desperation, they fell back toward the Chickahominy, which they crossed, + hotly pressed by the victorious enemy. + </p> + <p> + Stuart had been placed in an ambulance and borne across the stream, where + Dr. Randolph and Dr. Fontaine made a brief examination of his wound. It + was plainly mortal—but he was hastily driven, by way of + Mechanicsville, into Richmond. + </p> + <p> + His hard fighting had saved the city. When Sheridan attacked, he was + repulsed. + </p> + <p> + But the capital was dearly purchased. Twenty-four hours afterward Stuart + was dead. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: DEATH OF STUART} + </p> + <p> + The end of the great cavalier had been as serene as his life was stormy. + His death was that of the Christian warrior, who bows to the will of God, + and accepts whatever His loving hand decrees for him. + </p> + <p> + He asked repeatedly that his favorite hymns should be sung for him; and + when President Davis visited him, and asked:— + </p> + <p> + “General, how do you feel?” + </p> + <p> + “Easy, but willing to die,” he said, “if God and my country think I have + fulfilled my destiny, and done my duty."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + As night came, he requested his physician to inform him if he thought he + would live till morning. The physician replied that his death was rapidly + approaching, when he faintly bowed his head, and murmured:— + </p> + <p> + “I am resigned, if it be God’s will. I should like to see my wife, but + God’s will be done."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + When the proposed attack upon Sheridan, near Mechanicsville, was spoken of + in his presence, he said:— + </p> + <p> + “God grant that it may be successful. I wish I could be there.” * + </p> + <p> + Turning his face toward the pillow, he added, with tears in his eyes, “but + I must prepare for another world."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + Feeling now that his end was near, he made his last dispositions. + </p> + <p> + “You will find in my hat,” he said to a member of his staff, “a little + Confederate flag, which a lady of Columbia, South Carolina, sent me, + requesting that I would wear it on my horse in battle, and return it to + her. Send it to her."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + He gave then the name of the lady, and added:— + </p> + <p> + “My spurs—those always worn in battle—I promised to give to + Mrs. Lily Lee, at Shepherdstown. My sabre I leave to my son.” + </p> + <p> + His horses and equipments were then given to his staff—his papers + directed to be sent to his wife. + </p> + <p> + A prayer was then offered by the minister at his bedside: his lips moved + as he repeated the words. As the prayer ended he murmured:— + </p> + <p> + “I am going fast now—I am resigned. God’s will be done!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + As the words escaped from his lips, he expired. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK III. — BEHIND THE SCENES. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. — WHAT I DID NOT SEE. + </h2> + <p> + I was not at Stuart’s bedside when he died. While aiding the rest to hold + him in the saddle, I had been shot through the shoulder; and twenty-four + hours afterward I lay, at the house of a friend in Richmond, turning and + tossing with fever. + </p> + <p> + In my delirium I heard a mournful tolling of bells. It was many days, + however, before I knew that they were tolling for Stuart. + </p> + <p> + When, at last, after more than a month’s confinement to my bed, I rose, + and began to totter about,—pale, faint, and weak, but convalescent—my + great loss, for the first time, struck me in all its force. + </p> + <p> + Where should I turn now—and whither should I go? Jackson dead at + Chancellorsville—Stuart at Yellow Tavern—thenceforth I seemed + to have lost my support, to grope and totter in darkness, without a guide! + These two kings of battle had gone down in the storm, and, like the Knight + of Arthur, I looked around me, with vacant and inquiring eyes, asking + whither I was now to direct my steps, and what work I should work in the + coming years. Jackson! Stuart!—who could replace them? They had + loved and trusted me—their head-quarters had been my home. Now, when + they disappeared, I had no friends, no home; and an inexpressible sense of + loss descended upon me, as a dark cloud descends and obscures a landscape, + smiling and full of sunshine. + </p> + <p> + Another woe had come to me. My father was dead. The war had snapped the + chords of that stout heart as it snapped the chords of thousands, and the + illustrious head of the house had descended into the tomb. From this + double blow I scarcely had strength to rise. For weeks I remained in a + sort of dumb stupor; and was only aroused from it by the necessity of + looking after my family affairs. + </p> + <p> + As soon as I had strength to mount my horse, I rode to Eagle’s Nest. A + good aunt had come and installed herself as the friend and protector of my + little Annie; and with the arms of my young sister around me, I wept for + my father. + </p> + <p> + I remained at Eagle’s Nest more than two months. The long ride had made + the wound in my shoulder reopen, and I was again stretched upon a bed of + illness, from which, at one time, I thought I should not rise. More than + once I made a narrow escape from scouting parties of Federal cavalry in + the neighborhood; and on one occasion, an officer entered my chamber, but + left me unmolested, under the impression that I was too ill to live. + </p> + <p> + It was late in the month of August before I rose from my bed again, and + set out on my return. + </p> + <p> + In those three months and a half—counting from the time I left + Spottsylvania with Stuart—great events had happened in Virginia. + Grant’s hammer and Lee’s rapier had been clashing day and night. Hill and + valley, mountain and lowland—Virginia and Maryland—had + thundered. + </p> + <p> + General Grant had hastened forward from the Wilderness, only to find Lee + confronting him behind breastworks at Spottsylvania Court-House. The + Confederate commander had taken up a defensive position on the line of the + Po; and for more than two weeks Grant threw his masses against the works + of his adversary, in desperate attempts to break through. + </p> + <p> + On the 12th of May, at daylight, he nearly succeeded. “The Horse Shoe” + salient was charged in the dusk of morning; the Southerners were + surprised, and bayoneted in the trenches; the works carried; the artillery + captured; and a large number of prisoners fell into the hands of the + enemy. + </p> + <p> + The blow was heavy, but General Grant derived little advantage from it. + Lee rallied his troops; formed a new line; and repulsed every assault made + on it, throughout the entire day. When night fell, Grant had not advanced + further; Lee’s position was stronger than before, and plainly impregnable. + </p> + <p> + For many days, Grant was occupied in reconnoitring and feeling his + adversary. At the end of a week, the hope of breaking Lee’s line was seen + to be desperate. + </p> + <p> + Then commenced the second great “movement by the left flank” toward + Richmond. + </p> + <p> + Grant disappeared one morning, and hastened toward Hanover Junction. When + he arrived, Lee was there in his front, ready to receive him. And the new + position was stronger, if any thing, than that of Spottsylvania. Grant + felt it; abandoned the attempt to carry it, at once; and again moved, on + his swift and stealthy way, by the left flank toward Richmond. Crossing + the Pamunkey at Hanovertown, he made straight for the capital; but + reaching the Tottapotomoi, he found Lee again awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + Then the days and nights thundered, as they had been thundering since the + day when Grant crossed the Rapidan. Lee could not be driven, and the + Federal movement by the left flank began again. + </p> + <p> + Grant made for Cold Harbor, and massed his army to burst through the + Chickahominy, and seize Richmond. The huge engine began to move at + daylight, on the third of June. Half an hour afterward, 13,000 of General + Grant’s forces were dead or wounded. He was repulsed and driven back. His + whole loss, from the moment of crossing the Rapidan, had been about 60,000 + men. + </p> + <p> + That ended all hopes of forcing the lines of the Chickahominy. The Federal + commander gave up the attempt in despair, and resumed his Wandering-Jew + march. Moving still by the left flank, he hastened to cross James River + and advance on Petersburg. But Lee was again too rapid for him. In the + works south of the Appomattox the gray infantry, under the brave General + Wise, confronted the enemy. They repulsed every assault, and Grant sat + down to lay siege to Richmond from the distance of thirty miles. + </p> + <p> + Such had been the great campaign of the summer of 1864 in Virginia. Lee + had everywhere stood at bay, and repulsed every attack: he had also struck + in return a great aggressive blow, in Maryland. + </p> + <p> + At Cold Harbor, early in June, news had arrived that a Federal column, + under Hunter, was advancing on Lynchburg. A force was sent to intercept + Hunter, under the command of Early. That hard fighter crossed the + mountains; attacked his adversary; drove him beyond the Alleghanies; and + then, returning on his steps, hurried down the Shenandoah Valley toward + the Potomac, driving every thing before him. Once at the Potomac, he + hastened to cross into Maryland. Once in Maryland, Early advanced, without + loss of time, upon Washington. At Monocacy he met and defeated General + Wallace; pressed after him toward Washington; and reaching the outer + works, advanced his lines to the assault. But he had but a handful, after + the long and prostrating march. His numbers were wholly inadequate to + storm the defences of the capital. Grant had sent forward, in haste, two + army corps to defend the city, and Early was compelled to retreat across + the Potomac to the Shenandoah Valley, with the sole satisfaction of + reflecting that he had given the enemy a great “scare,” and had flaunted + the red-cross flag in front of the ramparts of Washington. + </p> + <p> + I have not space to describe the cavalry movements of the summer. Hampton + had succeeded Stuart in command of all the cavalry, and the country soon + heard the ring of his heavy blows. + </p> + <p> + In June, Sheridan was sent to capture Gordonsville and Charlottesville; + but Hampton checked and defeated him in a fierce action near Trevillian’s, + and in another at Charlottesville; pursued him to the White House; hurried + him on to James River; and Sheridan crossed that stream on pontoons, glad, + no doubt, to get back to the blue infantry. Hampton crossed also; + penetrated to Dinwiddie; defeated the enemy at Sappony church, capturing + their men and artillery—everywhere they had been routed, with a + total loss of more than 2,000 prisoners. + </p> + <p> + Such were the events which had taken place during my tedious illness. They + came to me only in vague rumors, or by means of chance newspapers sent by + my neighbors. At last, however, I rose from my sick couch, and embracing + my aunt and sister, who were to remain together at Eagle’s Nest, set out + on my return. + </p> + <p> + Stuart’s staff were all scattered, and seeking new positions. I was one of + them, and I again asked myself more gloomily than at first, “Where shall I + go?” The gentlemen of the red tape at Richmond would doubtless inform me, + however; and riding on steadily, with a keen look out for scouting + parties, I at last reached the city. + </p> + <p> + On the next day I filed my application in the war office, to be assigned + to duty. + </p> + <p> + A week afterward I had not heard from it. + </p> + <p> + Messieurs, the red tapists, were evidently not in the least bit of a hurry—and + hat in hand I awaited their good pleasure. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. — THE “DOOMED CITY.” + </h2> + <p> + Richmond presented a singular spectacle in that summer of 1864. + </p> + <p> + It was styled “the doomed city,” by our friends over the border, and in + truth there was something gloomy and tragic in its appearance—in the + very atmosphere surrounding it. + </p> + <p> + On every countenance you could read anxiety, poverty, the wasting effect + of the terrible suffering and suspense of the epoch. All things combined + to deepen the colors of the sombre picture. Hope long deferred had + sickened the stoutest hearts. Men were nervous, anxious, burnt up by the + hot fever of war. Provisions of every description were sold at enormous + prices. Fathers of families could scarcely procure the plainest food for + their wives and children. The streets were dotted with poor widows, + bereaved sisters, weeping mothers, and pale daughters, whose black dresses + told the story of their loss to all eyes. Hunger clutched at the stomach; + agony tore the heart. Soldiers, pale and tottering from their wounds, + staggered by. Cannon rattled through the streets. Couriers dashed backward + and forward from the telegraph office to the war office. The poor starved—the + rich scarcely fared any better. Black hair had become white. Stalwart + frames were bent and shrunken. Spies and secret emissaries lurked, and + looked at you sidewise. Forestallers crowded the markets. Bread was doled + out by the ounce. Confederate money by the bushel. Gold was hoarded and + buried. Cowards shrunk and began to whisper—“the flesh pots! the + flesh pots! they were better!” Society was uprooted from its foundations. + Strange characters were thrown up. The scum had come to the top, and bore + itself bravely in the sunshine. The whole social fabric seemed warped and + wrenched from its base; and in the midst of this chaos of starving women, + feverish men, spies, extortioners, blockade-runners,—over the + “doomed city,” day and night, rolled the thunder of the cannon, telling + that Grant and Lee were still holding their high debate at Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + Such was Richmond at the end of summer in 1864. Society was approaching + one of those epochs, when all things appear unreal, monstrous, gliding + toward some great catastrophe. All rascaldom was rampant. The night-birds + had come forth. Vice stalked, and flaunted its feathers in the light of + day. Chaos seemed coming, and with it all the powers of darkness. + </p> + <p> + That spectacle was singular to a soldier, bred in camps, and habituated, + now, for some years, to the breezy airs of “the field.” I looked on with + astonishment. The whole drama seemed unreal—the characters mere + players. Who was A, and B, and what did C do for a living? You knew not, + but they bowed, and smiled, and were charming. They grasped your hand, + offered you cigars, invited you to supper—they wanted nothing. And + they found no difficulty in procuring guests. I was no better than the + rest, reader—there is an honest confession—and, looking back + now, I can see that I knew, and dined or supped with some queer characters + in those days. + </p> + <p> + Shall I give you a brief sketch of one of these worthies and his + surroundings? It will afford some idea of the strange contrasts then + presented in the “doomed” and starving city. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0071" id="link2H_4_0071"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. — I DINE WITH MR. BLOCQUE. + </h2> + <p> + He was a prominent personage at that time—my friend (in a + parliamentary sense at least) Mr. Blocque. + </p> + <p> + He was a charming little fellow, acquainted with everybody—an + “employee of government,” but employed to do heaven knows what; and while + others were starving, Mr. Blocque was as plump as a partridge. He wore the + snowiest shirt bosoms, glittering with diamond studs; the finest + broadcloth coats; the most brilliant patent leather shoes; and his fat + little hands sparkled with costly rings. He was constantly smiling in a + manner that was delightful to behold; hopped about and chirped like a + sparrow or tomtit; and was the soul of good humor and enjoyment. There was + no resisting his charms; he conquered you in five minutes. When he linked + his arm in yours, and chirped, “My dear friend, come and dine with me—at + five o’clock precisely—I shall certainly expect you!” it was + impossible to refuse the small gentleman’s invitation. Perhaps you asked + yourself, “Who is my dear friend, Mr. Blocque—how does he live so + well, and wear broadcloth and fine linen?” But the next moment you smiled, + shrugged your shoulders, elevated your eye-brows, and—went to dine + with him. + </p> + <p> + I was like all the world, and at five o’clock one evening was shown into + Mr. Blocque’s elegant residence on Shockoe Hill, by a servant in white + gloves, who bowed low, as he ushered me in. Mr. Blocque hastened to + receive me, with his most charming smile; I was introduced to the guests, + who had all arrived; and ten minutes afterward the folding doors opened, + revealing a superb banquet—for the word “dinner” would be too + common-place. The table was one mass of silver. Waxlights, in candelabra, + were already lit; and a host of servants waited, silent and respectful, + behind every chair. + </p> + <p> + The guests were nearly a dozen in number, and more than one prominent + “government official” honored Mr. Blocque’s repast. I had been introduced + among the rest to Mr. Torpedo, member of Congress, and bitter foe of + President Davis; Mr. Croker, who had made an enormous fortune by buying + up, and hoarding in garrets and cellars, flour, bacon, coffee, sugar, and + other necessaries; and Colonel Desperade, a tall and warlike officer in a + splendid uniform, who had never been in the army, but intended to report + for duty, it was supposed, as soon as he was made brigadier-general. + </p> + <p> + The dinner was excellent. The table literally groaned with every delicacy. + Everywhere you saw canvass-back ducks, grouse, salmon, paté de foie gras, + oysters; the champagne, was really superb; the Madeira and sherry beyond + praise; and the cigars excellent Havanas, which at that time were rarely + seen, and cost fabulous prices. Think, old army comrades, starving on a + quarter of a pound of rancid bacon during that summer of ‘64—think + of that magical bill of fare, that array of wonders! + </p> + <p> + Who was the magician who had evoked all this by a wave of his wand? How + could smiling Mr. Blocque roll in luxury thus, when everybody else was + starving? How could my host wear broadcloth, and drink champagne and smoke + Havanas, when ragged clothing, musty bacon, and new apple-abomination, + were the order of the day with all others? + </p> + <p> + These questions puzzled me extremely; but there was the magician before + us, smiling in the most friendly manner, and pressing his rich wines on + his guests, as they sat around the polished mahogany smoking their cigars. + Elegantly clad servants hovered noiselessly behind the convives—the + wine circulated—the fragrant smoke rose—the conversation + became general—and all was animation. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir!” says Mr. Torpedo, puffing fiercely at his cigar, “the President + never will assign Johnston to command again, sir! You call Mr. Davis + ‘pig-headed,’ Mr. Croker—you are wrong, sir! You do injustice to the + pigs, sir! Pigs are not insane, sir!” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Torpedo sucks at his cigar, as though he were a vampire, + extracting the blood of his victim. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Croker sips his wine; he is large and portly; ruddy and pompous; his + watch seals jingle; and he rounds his periods with the air of a + millionaire, who is accustomed to be listened to with deference. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, my dear, sir,” says Mr. Croker, clearing his throat. “The + government has assuredly been administered, from its very inception, in a + manner which the most enthusiastic adherents of the Executive will + scarcely venture to characterize as either judicious or constitutional. In + the year which has just elapsed, things have been managed in a manner + which must excite universal reprobation. Even the alleged performances of + the army are problematical, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” says Colonel Desperade, twirling his mustache in + a warlike manner; “do I understand you to call in question the nerve of + our brave soldiers, or the generalship of our great commander?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir,” says Mr. Croker, staring haughtily at the speaker. “I am not + of those enthusiasts who consider General Lee a great soldier. He has + succeeded in defensive campaigns, but is deficient in genius—and I + will add, sir, as you seem to be surprised at my remarks, sir, that in my + opinion the Southern Confederacy will be overwhelmed, sir, and the South + compelled to return to the Union, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Upon what do you ground that extraordinary assumption, may I ask, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “On common sense and experience, sir,” returns Mr. Croker, severely; “look + at the currency—debased until the dollar is merely a piece of paper. + Look at prices—coffee, twenty dollars a pound, and sugar the same. + Look at the army starving—the people losing heart—and strong, + able-bodied men,” adds Mr. Croker, looking at Colonel Desperade, “lurking + about the cities, and keeping out of the way of bullets.” + </p> + <p> + The mustached warrior looks ferocious—his eyes dart flame. + </p> + <p> + “And who causes the high prices, sir? Who makes the money a rag? I answer—the + forestallers and engrossers—do you know any, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “That is singular!” And Colonel Desperade twirls his mustache satirically—looking + at the pompous Mr. Croker in a manner which makes that worthy turn + scarlet. + </p> + <p> + I was laughing to myself quietly, and listening for the expected outbreak, + when Mr. Blocque interposed with his winning voice. + </p> + <p> + “What are you discussing, gentlemen?” he said, with his charming smile. + “But first tell me your opinion of this Madeira and those cigars. My agent + writes me word that he used every exertion to procure the best. Still, I + am not entirely pleased with either the wine or brand of cigars, and hope + you will excuse them. Were you speaking of our great President, Mr. + Torpedo? And you, Mr. Croker—I think you were referring to the + present state of affairs. They appear to me more hopeful than at any + previous time, and his Excellency, President Davis, is guiding the helm of + state with extraordinary courage and good judgment. I know some of you + differ with me in these views, my friends. But let us not be censorious—let + us look on the bright side. The troubles of the country are great, and we + of the South are suffering every privation—but we must bear up, + gentlemen; we must keep brave hearts, and endure all things. Let us live + on dry bread if it comes to that, and bravely fight to the last! Let us + cheerfully endure hardships, and oppose the enemy at all points. Our + present troubles and privations will soon come to an end—we shall + again be surrounded by the comforts and luxuries of life—and + generations now unborn will bless our names, and pity our sufferings in + these days that try men’s souls!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blocque ceased, and smoothing down his snowy shirt bosom, pushed the + wine. At the same moment, an alabaster clock on the marble mantelpiece + struck seven. + </p> + <p> + “So late?” said Colonel Desperade. “I have an appointment at the war + office!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blocque drew out a magnificent gold watch. + </p> + <p> + “The clock is fast,” he said, “keep your seats, gentlemen,—unless + you fancy going to the theatre. My private box is at your disposal, and + carriages will be ready in a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + As the charming little gentleman spoke, he led the way back to the + drawing-room—the folding doors flanked by silent and respectful + servants as the guests passed in. + </p> + <p> + In five minutes, coffee and liqueurs were served; both were superb, the + white sugar sparkled like crystal in the silver dish, and the cream in the + solid jug was yellow and as thick as a syrup. + </p> + <p> + “Shall it be the theatre, gentlemen?” said Mr. Blocque, with winning + smiles. “We can amuse ourselves with cards for an hour, as the curtain + does not rise before eight.” + </p> + <p> + And he pointed to a silver basket on the centre table of carved walnut, + surmounted by a slab of variegated marble. I looked, and saw the crowning + wonder. The silver basket contained piles of gold coin and greenbacks! Not + a trace of a Confederate note was visible in the mass! + </p> + <p> + Packs of fresh cards were brought quickly by a servant, on a silver + waiter; the guests helped themselves to the coin and bank notes; in ten + minutes they were playing furiously. + </p> + <p> + As I do not play, I rose and took my leave. Mr. Blocque accompanied me to + the door, smiling sweetly to the last. + </p> + <p> + “Come again very soon, my dear colonel,” he said, squeezing my hand, “my + poor house, and all in it, is at your service at all times!” + </p> + <p> + I thanked my host, shook hands, and went out into the darkness,—determined + never to return. + </p> + <p> + I had had an excellent dinner, and, physically, had never felt better. + Morally, I must say, I felt contaminated, for, unfortunately, I had begun + to think of Lee’s hungry soldiers, lying in rags, in the Petersburg + trenches. + </p> + <p> + “Eight o’clock! All is well!” came from the sentinel, as I passed by the + capitol. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0072" id="link2H_4_0072"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. — JOHN M. DANIEL. + </h2> + <p> + On the day after this scene, a trifling matter of business led me to call + on John M. Daniel, editor of the <i>Examiner</i>. + </p> + <p> + The career of this singular personage had been as remarkable as his + character. He was not a stranger to me. I had known him in 1849 or ‘50, + when I accompanied my father on a visit to Richmond, and I still recall + the striking appearance of the individual at that time. He had come, a + poor boy of gentle birth, from the bleak hills of Stafford, to the city of + Richmond, to seek his fortune, and, finding nothing better to do, had + accepted the position of librarian to the Richmond library, waiting for + something to “turn up,” and ready to grasp it. About the same time, that + experienced journalist, the late B.M. De Witt, had founded the <i>Examiner</i>. + He, no doubt, saw the eminent talents of the youth from Stafford, and the + result had been an invitation to assist in the editorial department of the + journal. + </p> + <p> + Going to the Richmond library, to procure for my father some volume for + reference, I had made the acquaintance of the youthful journalist. At the + first glance, I felt that I was in the presence of an original character. + His labors on the <i>Examiner</i> had just commenced. He was seated, + half-reclining, in an arm-chair, surrounded by “exchanges,” from which he + clipped paragraphs, throwing the papers, as soon as he had done so, in a + pile upon the floor. His black eyes, long black hair, brushed behind the + ears, and thin, sallow cheeks, were not agreeable; but they made up a + striking physiognomy. The black eyes glittered with a sullen fire; the + thin lips were wreathed with a sardonic smile; and I was informed that the + youth lived the life of a <i>solitaire</i>, voluntarily absenting himself + from society, to give his days and nights to exhausting study. + </p> + <p> + He read every thing, it was said—history, poetry, political economy, + and theology. Swift was said to be his literary divinity, and Rabelais was + at his elbow always. Poor, uneducated, ignorant of nearly every thing, he + was educating himself for the future—sharpening, by attrition with + the strongest minds in all literatures, ancient and modern, that trenchant + weapon which afterward flashed its superb lightnings in the heated + atmosphere of the great epoch in which he figured. + </p> + <p> + Bitter, misanthropic, solitary; burning the midnight lamp, instead of + moving among his fellows in the sunshine, he yet possessed hardy virtues + and a high pride of gentleman. He hated the world at large, it was said, + but loved his few friends with an ardor which shrank at nothing. One of + them owed a sum of money—and Daniel went on foot, twenty-two miles, + to Petersburg, paid it, and returned in the same manner. Afterward he went + in person to Charlottesville, to purchase a house for the use of another + friend of limited means. For his friends he was thus willing to sacrifice + his convenience and his means, without thought of return. All who were not + his friends, he is said to have hated or despised. An acquaintance was in + his room one day, and showed him a valuable pen-knife. Daniel admired it, + and the gentleman said “You may have it, if you like it.” Daniel turned + upon him, scowled at him, his lip curled, and he replied, “What do you + expect me to do for you?” + </p> + <p> + His other virtues were self-denial, and a proud independence. At the + library, he lived on bread and tea—often making the tea himself. Too + poor to possess a chamber, he slept on a lounge in the public room. He + would owe no man any thing, asked no favors, and fawned on nobody. He + would fight his own fight, make his own way; with the intellect heaven had + sent him, carve out his own future, unassisted. The sallow youth, groaning + under dyspepsia, with scarce a friend, and nothing but his brain, promised + himself that he would one day rise from his low estate, and wield the + thunderbolts of power, as one born to grasp and hurl them. + </p> + <p> + He was not mistaken, and did not overestimate his powers. When I saw him + in 1849 or ‘50, he was obscurest of the obscure. Two or three years + afterward he had made the <i>Examiner</i> one of the great powers of the + political world, and was living in a palace at Turin, minister to + Sardinia. He had achieved this success in life by the sheer force of his + character; by the vigor and recklessness of his pen, and the intensity of + his invective. Commencing his editorial career, apparently, with the + theory that, in order to rise into notice, he must spare nothing and no + one, he had entered the arena of partisan politics like a full armed + gladiator; and soon the whole country resounded with the blows which he + struck. Bitter personality is a feeble phrase to describe the animus of + the writer in those days. There was something incredibly exasperating in + his comments on political opponents. He flayed and roasted them alive. It + was like thrusting a blazing torch into the raw flesh of his victims. Nor + was it simple “abuse.” The satirist was too intelligent to rely upon that. + It was his scorching wit which made opponents shrink. His scalpel divided + the arteries, and touched the vitals of the living subject. Personal + peculiarities were satirized with unfailing acumen. The readers of the <i>Examiner</i>, + in those days, will still recall the tremendous flaying which he + administered to his adversaries. It may almost be said, that when the + remorseless editor had finished with these gentlemen, there was “nothing + of them left”—what lay before him was a bleeding and mortally + wounded victim. And what was worse, all the world was laughing. Those who + looked with utter disapproval upon his ferocious course, were still unable + to resist the influence of his mordant humor. They denounced the <i>Examiner</i> + without stint, but they subscribed to it, and read it every morning. “Have + you seen the <i>Examiner</i> to-day?” asked the friend whom you met on the + street. “John M. Daniel is down on Blank!” said A to B, rubbing his hands + and laughing. Blank may have been the personal acquaintance and friend of + Mr. A, but there was no resisting the cartoon of him, traced by the pen of + the satirist! The portrait might be a caricature, but it was a terrible + likeness! The long nose was very long; the round shoulders, very round; + the cast in the eye, a frightful squint; but the individual was + unmistakable. The bitter humor of the artist had caught and embodied every + weakness. Thenceforth, the unfortunate adversary went on his way before + all eyes, the mark of suppressed ridicule and laughing whispers. Whether + you approved or disapproved, you read those tremendous satires. Not to see + the <i>Examiner</i> in those days was to miss a part of the history of the + times. The whole political world felt the presence of a <i>power</i> in + journalism. Into all the recesses of the body politic, those shafts of + ridicule or denunciation penetrated. That venomous invective pierced the + hardest panoply. For the first time in American journalism, the world saw + the full force of ridicule; and tasted a bitterness of invective unknown + since the days of Swift. + </p> + <p> + Out of these personal attacks grew numerous duels. The butts of the + editor’s ridicule sent him defiances, and he was engaged in several + affairs, which, however, resulted in nothing, or nearly nothing, as I + believe he was wounded only once. They did not induce him to change his + course. He seemed to have marked out his career in cold blood, and was + plainly resolved to adhere to his programme—to write himself into + power. In this he fully succeeded. By dint of slashing and flaying, he + attracted the attention of all. Then his vigorous and masculine intellect + riveted the spell. Hated, feared, admired, publicly stigmatized as one who + “ruled Virginia with a rod of iron,” he had reached his aim; and soon the + material results of success came. The director of that great political + engine, the Richmond <i>Examiner</i>, found no difficulty in securing the + position which he desired; and he received the appointment of minister to + Sardinia, which he accepted, selling his newspaper, but reserving the + right to resume editorial control of it on his return. + </p> + <p> + His ambition was thus gratified—for the moment at least. The unknown + youth, living once on bread and tea, and too poor to possess a bed, was + now a foreign minister; had an Italian count for his <i>chef de cuisine</i>; + and drew a salary which enabled him to return, some years afterward, to + the United States with savings amounting to $30,000. + </p> + <p> + It was a contrast to his past. The sallow youth was <i>M. le ministre</i>! + The garret in Richmond had been turned into a marble palace in Turin. He + had a nobleman for a cook, instead of making his own tea. And the <i>Examiner</i> + had done all that for him! + </p> + <p> + When war became imminent, he returned to Virginia, and resumed control of + the <i>Examiner</i>. With the exception of brief military service with + General Floyd, and on the staff of A.P. Hill, in the battles around + Richmond, when he was slightly wounded in the right arm, he remained in + editorial harness until his death. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he grasped the helm of the <i>Examiner</i> again, that great + battleship trembled and obeyed him. It had been powerful before, it was + now a mighty engine, dragging every thing in its wake. Commencing by + supporting the Government, it soon became bitterly inimical to President + Davis and the whole administration. The invective in which it indulged was + not so violent as in the past, but it was even more powerful and + dangerous. Every department was lashed, in those brief, terse sentences + which all will remember—sentences summing up volumes in a paragraph, + condensing oceans of gall into a drop of ink. Under these mortal stabs, + delivered coolly and deliberately, the authors of public abuses shrank, + recoiled, and sought safety in silence. They writhed, but knew the power + of their adversary too well to reply to him. When once or twice they did + so, his rejoinder was more mortal than his first attack. The whole country + read the <i>Examiner</i>, from the chief officers of the administration to + the humblest soldier in the trenches. It shaped the opinions of thousands, + and this great influence was not due to trick or chance. It was not + because it denounced the Executive in terms of the bitterest invective; + because it descended like a wild boar on the abuses or inefficiency of the + departments; but because this journal, more, perhaps, than any other in + the South, spoke the public sentiment, uttered its views with fearless + candor, and conveyed those views in words so terse, pointed, and trenchant—in + such forcible and excellent English—that the thought of the writer + was driven home, and remained fixed in the dullest apprehension. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Examiner</i>, in one word, had become the controlling power, + almost, of the epoch. Its views had become those even of men who bitterly + stigmatized its course. You might disapprove of its editorials often, and + regret their appearance—as I did—but it was impossible not to + be carried onward by the hardy logic of the writer: impossible not to + admire the Swift-like pith and vigor of this man, who seemed to have + re-discovered the lost well of undefiled English. + </p> + <p> + When I went to see John M. Daniel, thus, in this summer of 1864, it was + not a mere journalist whom I visited, but a historic character. For it was + given to him, invisible behind the scenes, to shape, in no small degree, + the destiny of the country, by moulding the views and opinions of the + actors who contended on the public arena. + </p> + <p> + Was that influence for good or for evil? Let others answer. To-day this + man is dead, and the cause for which he fought with his pen has failed. I + reproduce his figure and some scenes of that great cause—make your + own comments, reader. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0073" id="link2H_4_0073"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. — THE EDITOR IN HIS SANCTUM. + </h2> + <p> + Knocking at the door of the journalist’s house on Broad Street, nearly + opposite the “African church,” I was admitted by a negro servant, sent up + my name, and was invited by Mr. Daniel to ascend to his sanctum on the + second story. + </p> + <p> + I went up, and found him leaning back in a high chair of black horsehair, + in an apartment commanding a view southward of James River and + Chesterfield. On a table beside him were books and papers—the + furniture of the room was plain and simple. + </p> + <p> + He greeted me with great cordiality, bowing very courteously, and offering + me a cigar. I had not seen him since his return from Europe, and looked at + him with some curiosity. He was as sallow as before—his eyes as + black and sparkling; but his long, black hair, as straight as an Indian’s, + and worn behind his ears, when I first knew him, was close-cut now; and + his upper lip was covered by a black mustache. His dress was simple and + exceedingly neat. It was impossible not to see that the famous journalist + was a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + As I had visited him purely upon a matter of business, I dispatched it, + and then rose to take my departure. But he urged me with persistent + cordiality, not to desert him. He saw few persons, he said; I must stay + and dine with him. I had business? Then I could attend to it, and would do + him the favor to return. + </p> + <p> + Looking at my watch, I found that it was nearly two o’clock—he had + informed me that he dined at four—and, not to detain the reader with + these details, recurring to a very retentive memory, I found myself, two + hours afterward, seated at table with the editor of the <i>Examiner</i>. + </p> + <p> + The table was of ancient, and brilliantly-polished mahogany. The dinner + consisted of only two or three dishes, but these were of the best quality, + excellently cooked, and served upon china of the most costly description. + Coffee followed—then a great luxury—and, not only the + sugar-dish, cream-jug and other pieces of the service were of silver; the + waiter upon which they rested was of the same material—heavy, + antique, and richly carved. + </p> + <p> + We lingered at table throughout the entire afternoon, my host having + resisted every attempt which I made to depart, by taking my hat from my + hand, and thrusting upon me another excellent Havana cigar. Cordiality so + extreme, in one who bore the reputation of a man-hater, was at least + something <i>piquant</i>—and as my host had appealed to my weak + side, by greatly praising a slight literary performance of mine (“he would + be proud,” he assured me, “to have it thought that <i>he</i> had written + it),” I yielded, surrendered my hat, lit the cigar offered me, and we went + on talking. + </p> + <p> + I still recall that conversation, the last but one which I ever had with + this singular man. Unfortunately, it does not concern the narrative I now + write, and I would not like to record his denunciations and invective + directed at the Government. He handled it without mercy, and his comments + upon the character of President Davis were exceedingly bitter. One of + these was laughable for the grim humor of the idea. Opening a volume of + Voltaire—whose complete works he had just purchased—he showed + me a passage in one of the infidel dramas of the great Frenchman, where + King David, on his death-bed, after invoking maledictions upon his + opponents, declares that “having forgiven all his enemies <i>en bon Juif</i>, + he is ready to die.” + </p> + <p> + A grim smile came to the face of the journalist, as he showed me the + passage. + </p> + <p> + “That suits Mr. Davis exactly,” he said. “He forgives his enemies <i>en + bon Juif</i>! I believe I will make an editorial, and quote the passage on + him—but he wouldn’t understand it!” + </p> + <p> + That was bitter—was it not, reader? I raised my pen to draw a line + through the incident, but it can do no harm now. + </p> + <p> + The solitary journalist-politician spoke freely of himself and his + intentions for the future. With a few passages from our talk on this + point, I will terminate my account of the interview. + </p> + <p> + “You see I am here chained to the pen,” he said, “and, luckily, I have + that which defies the conscript officers, if the Government takes a fancy + to order editors into the ranks.” + </p> + <p> + Smiling slightly as he spoke, he showed me his right hand, the fingers of + which he could scarcely bend. + </p> + <p> + “I was wounded at Cold Harbor, in June, 1862,” he added; “not much wounded + either; but sufficient to prevent me from handling a sword or musket. It + is a trifle. I should like to be able to show an honorable scar{1} in this + cause, and I am sorry I left the army. By this time I might have, been a + brigadier—perhaps a major-general."{2} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 2: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” I replied; “but the position of an editor is a powerful one.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, colonel; but what good is the <i>Examiner</i> doing? What can all + the papers in the Confederacy effect? Besides, I like to command men. I + love power."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + I laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I would recommend the philosophic view of things,” I said. “Why not take + the good the gods provide? As a soldier, you would be in fetters—whatever + your rank—to say nothing of the bullet that might cut short your + career. And yet this life of the brain is wearing too,—” + </p> + <p> + “But my health is all the better for it,” he said. “A friend was here to + see me the other day, and I startled him by the observation ‘I shall live + to eat the goose that eats the grass over your grave.‘{1} When he inquired + my meaning, I replied, ‘For two reasons—I come of a long-lived race, + and have an infallible sign of longevity; I never dream, and my sleep is + always sound and refreshing.’”{2} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 2: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe in that dictum?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Thoroughly,” he replied, laughing. “I shall live long, in spite of the + enmities which would destroy me in an instant, if the secret foes I have + could only accomplish their end without danger to themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not really believe, surely, that you have such foes?” + </p> + <p> + “Not believe it? I know it. <i>You</i> have them, colonel, too. How long + do you think you would live, if your enemies had their way with you? + Perhaps you think you have no enemies who hate you enough to kill you. You + are greatly mistaken—every man has his enemies. I have them by the + thousand, and I have no doubt you, too, have them, though they are + probably not so numerous as mine."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “But their enmity comes to nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Because to indulge it, would bring them into trouble,” he replied. + “Neither your enemies or mine would run the risk of murdering us in open + day; but suppose they could kill us by simply <i>wishing it?</i> I should + drop down dead before your eyes—and you would fall a corpse in Main + Street before you reached your home!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “A gloomy view enough, but I dare not deny it.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be useless, colonel. That is the way men are made. For myself, I + distrust all of them—or nearly all.” + </p> + <p> + He uttered the words with intense bitterness, and for a moment remained + silent. + </p> + <p> + “This is gloomy talk,” he said, “and will not amuse you. Let us change the + topic. When I am not discussing public affairs—the doings of this + wretched administration, and the old man of the sea astride upon the + country’s back—I ought to try and amuse myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You find the <i>Examiner</i> a heavy weight upon you?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a mill-stone around my neck."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “Why not throw it off, if you find it onerous?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I look to this journal as a father does to an only son—as + my pet, my pride, and the support and honor of myself and my name in the + future.” + </p> + <p> + “You are proud of it.” + </p> + <p> + “It has made me, and it will do more for me hereafter than it has ever + done yet.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and then went on, with a glow in his swarthy face: + </p> + <p> + “Every man has his cherished object in this world, colonel. Mine is the + success and glory of the <i>Examiner</i>. I intend to make of it what the + London <i>Times</i> is in England, and the world—a great power, + which shall lay down the law, control cabinets, mould parties, and direct + events. It has given me much trouble to establish it, but <i>ça ira</i> + now! From the <i>Examiner</i> I expect to realize the great dream of my + life.” + </p> + <p> + “The dream of your life? What is that?—if I may ask without + intrusion.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I make no secret of it, and as a gentleman speaking to a gentleman, + can say what I could not in the society of <i>roturiers</i> or common + people. My family is an old and honorable one in Virginia—this, by + way of explanation only, I beg you to note. We are thus, people of old + descent, but my branch of the family is ruined. My object is to reinstate + it; and you will perhaps compare me to the scheming young politician in + Bulwer’s ‘My Novel,’ who seeks to restore the family fortunes, and + brighten up the lonely old house—in Yorkshire, is it? You remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I always sympathized with that character. He is morally bad, you + say: granted; but he is resolute and brave—and his object is noble.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you, the object <i>is</i> noble.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you think so, colonel. I see I speak to one who has the old + Virginia feeling. You respect family.” + </p> + <p> + “Who does not? There are those who profess to care naught for it, but it + is because they are new-comers.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” was the journalist’s reply, “mushrooms—and very dirty ones!” + </p> + <p> + I laughed at the speaker’s grimace. + </p> + <p> + “For my own part,” I said, “I do not pretend to be indifferent whether or + not my father was a gentleman. I bow as politely to the new-comer as if it + were the Conqueror he came over with; but still I am glad my father was a + gentleman. I hope no one will quarrel with that.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken. They will hate you for it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right—but I interrupted you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad the interruption came, colonel, for it gave you an opportunity + of showing me that my views and your own are in exact accord on this + subject. I will proceed, therefore, without ceremony, to tell you what I + design doing some day.” + </p> + <p> + I listened with attention. It is always interesting to look into the + recesses of a remarkable man’s character. This human being was notable in + an epoch filled with notabilities; and chance was about to give me an + insight into his secret thoughts. + </p> + <p> + He twirled a paper-cutter in his fingers, reflected a moment, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “I am still young—not very young either, for I will soon be forty—but + I know no young man who has better prospects than myself, and few who have + done so well. I suppose I am worth now nearly $100,000 in good money. I + have more gold coin than I know what to do with. The <i>Examiner</i> is + very valuable property, and is destined to be much more so. I expect to + live long, and if I do, I shall be rich. When I am rich, I shall buy the + old family estate in Stafford County, and shall add to it all the land for + miles around. I shall build a house to my fancy, and, with all my + possessions walled in, I shall teach these people what they never knew—how + to live like a gentleman."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: This paragraph is in Mr. J.M. Daniel’s words.} + </p> + <p> + The glow had deepened on the sallow face. It was easy to see that the + speaker had unfolded to me the dream of his life. + </p> + <p> + “Your scheme is one,” I said, “which takes my fancy greatly. But why do + you intend to wall in your property?” + </p> + <p> + “To keep out those wolves called men.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I forgot. You do not like those bipeds without feathers.” + </p> + <p> + “I like some of them, colonel; but the majority are worse than my dogs, + Fanny and Frank, yonder. Sometimes I think they are human—they bite + each other so!” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. There was something <i>piquant</i> in the grim humor of this + singular personage. + </p> + <p> + “What is your ideal man?” I said, “for, doubtless, you have such an + ideal?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I like a man of bronze, who does not snivel or weep. I like Wigfall + for his physique and his magnificent courage. It is the genuine thing. + There is no <i>put on</i> there. He has native pluck—the actual + article—and it is no strain on him to exhibit it. The grit is in + him, and you can’t shake him."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: This paragraph is in Mr. J.M. Daniel’s words.} + </p> + <p> + “You would admit your men of bronze, then, into the walled-up domain in + Stafford?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” he said grimly. “With my violin, a good cook, English + books and papers—I hate your Yankee trash—and occasional + travel, I think I could get through life without very great ennui. I do + not expect to be governor of Virginia for ten years yet!” + </p> + <p> + And smiling, the journalist said:— + </p> + <p> + “Let us change the subject. What are people talking about? I never ask + what is the news.{1} Is any thing said of evacuating Virginia? That is a + pernicious idea!{2} Whom have you seen lately?” + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 2: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “A queer set,” I said. + </p> + <p> + And I gave him an account of my dinner at Mr. Blocque’s. + </p> + <p> + “What a little wretch!” he said. “I think I will run a pin through that + bug, and impale him. He would make a fine dish served up <i>à la Victor + Hugo</i>. You have read <i>Les Misérables</i> yonder? It is a trashy + affair.” + </p> + <p> + And taking up the elegantly bound volume, which must have cost him a + considerable sum, he quietly pitched it out of the window. + </p> + <p> + As he did so, the printer’s devil appeared at the door, holding proof in + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You see I am never safe from intrusion, colonel. This <i>Examiner</i> + newspaper keeps me at the oar.” + </p> + <p> + I rose and put on my hat. + </p> + <p> + “Come and see me again soon, if it suits your convenience,” he said. “I am + going to write an editorial, and I think I will serve up your host, + Blocque.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not use his name.” + </p> + <p> + “Be tranquil. He will be the type only.” + </p> + <p> + And, escorting me to the door, Mr. Daniel bestowed a courteous bow upon + me, which I returned. Then the door closed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0074" id="link2H_4_0074"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. — AN EDITORIAL IN THE EXAMINER. + </h2> + <p> + On the following morning I opened the <i>Examiner</i>, and the first + article which I saw was the following one, on + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE BLOCKADE-RUNNER. + + “We owe to the kindness of SHEM’S Express Company, which has charge + of the line between the front door of the State Department and the + back door of the Tuileries kitchen, the advance sheets of a new + novel by VICTUS HAUTGOUT, which bears the striking title, <i>Les + Fortunés</i>, and which consists of five parts—ABRAHAM, ISAAC, JACOB, + JUDAH, and BENJAMIN. Of course, the discerning reader will not + suppose for a moment that there is any connection between <i>Les + Fortunés</i> and <i>Les Misérables</i>; between the chaste style of + HAUTGOUT and the extravaganzas of HUGO; whose works, in former + days, were not considered fit reading for an Anglo-Saxon public, + whose latest and most corrupt fiction owes its success (let us + hope) rather to the dearth of new literature than to the vitiated + taste of the Southern people. How great the difference between the + two authors is, can best be appreciated by comparing the + description of the <i>gamin</i> in <i>Marius</i>, with the following extracts + from HAUTGOUT’S portraiture of the BLOCKADE-RUNNER:— + + “Yankeedom has a bird, and the crocodile has a bird. The + crocodile’s bird is called the Trochilus. Yankeedom’s bird is + called the blockade-runner. Yankeedom is the crocodile. The + blockade-runner is the Trochilus. + + “Couple these two ideas—Yankeedom and the crocodile. They are + worth the coupling. The crocodile is asleep. He does not sleep on + both ears; he sleeps with one eye open; his jaws are also open. + Rows of teeth appear, sharped, fanged, pointed, murderous, + carnivorous, omnivorous. Some of the teeth are wanting: say a + dozen. Who knocked those teeth out? A demon. What demon? + Or perhaps an angel. What angel? The angel is secession: the + demon is rebellion. ORMUZD and AHRIMAN: BALDUR and LOKI: + the DEVIL and ST. DUNSTAN. So we go. + + “The Trochilus picks the crocodile’s teeth. Does the crocodile + object? Not he. He likes to have his teeth picked. It is good for + his health. It promotes his digestion. It is, on the whole, a + sanitary measure. ‘Feed yourself,’ he says, ‘my good Trochilus, on + the broken meats which lie between my grinders. Feed your little + ones at home. I shan’t snap you up unless I get very hungry. There + are Confederates enough. Why should I eat <i>you</i>?’ + + “This little creature—this <i>Trochilus obsidionalis</i>—this + blockade-running tomtit—is full of joy. He has rich food to eat + every day. He goes to the show every evening, when he is not on + duty. He has a fine shirt on his back; patent-leather boots on his + feet; the pick and choice of a dozen houses. He is of any + age—chiefly of the conscript age; ranges singly or in couples; + haunts auction houses; dodges enrolling officers; eats + canvass-backs; smells of greenbacks; swears allegiance to both + sides; keeps faith with neither; is hand and glove with ABE’S + detectives as well as with WINDER’S Plugs; smuggles in an ounce of + quinine for the Confederate Government, and smuggles out a pound of + gold for the Lincolnites; fishes in troubled waters; runs with the + hare and hunts with the hounds; sings Yankee Doodle through one + nostril, and My Maryland through the other; is on good terms with + everybody—especially with himself—and, withal, is as great a + rascal as goes unhung. + + “He has sports of his own; roguish tricks of his own, of which a + hearty hatred of humdrum, honest people is the basis. He has his + own occupations, such as running for hacks, which he hires at + fabulous prices; crossing the Potomac in all kinds of weather; + rubbing off Yankee trade-marks and putting English labels in their + stead. He has a currency of his own, slips of green paper, which + have an unvarying and well regulated circulation throughout this + gipsy band. + + “He is never satisfied with his pantaloons unless they have a + watch-fob, and never satisfied with his watch-fob unless it + contains a gold watch. Sometimes he has two watch-fobs; sometimes + a score. + + “This rosy child of Richmond lives, develops, gets into and out of + scrapes—a merry witness of our social unrealities. He looks on + ready to laugh; ready also for something else, for pocketing + whatever he can lay his hands on. Whoever you are, you that call + yourselves Honor, Justice, Patriotism, Independence, Freedom, + Candour, Honesty, Right, beware of the grinning blockade-runner. + He is growing. He will continue to grow. + + “Of what clay is he made? Part Baltimore street-dirt, part James + River mud, best part and worst part sacred soil of Palestine. What + will become of him in the hands of the potter, chance? Heaven + grant that he may be ground into his original powder before he is + stuck up on our mantel-pieces as a costly vase, in which the + choice flowers of our civilization can but wither and die.” + </pre> + <p> + Admire that grim humor, reader—the firm stroke with which this + Aristophanes of 1864 drew my friend, Mr. Blocque. See how he reproduced + every trait, delineated the worthy in his exact colors, and, at the foot + of the picture, wrote, as it were, “Here is going to be the founder of + ‘one of the old families,’—one of the ornaments of the future, who + will come out of the war rich, and be a costly vase, not a vessel of + dishonor, as at present.” + </p> + <p> + Grim satirist! You saw far, and I think we want you to-day! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. — UNDER THE CROSSED SWORDS. + </h2> + <p> + I had dined with Mr. Blocque; two days afterward I went to sup with Judge + Conway. + </p> + <p> + Does the reader remember his appearance at Culpeper Court-House, on the + night of the ball after the review in June, 1863? On that evening he had + excited my astonishment by abruptly terminating the interview between his + daughter and Captain Davenant; and I little supposed that I would ever + penetrate the motive of that action, or become intimate with the + performer. + </p> + <p> + Yet the chance of war had decreed that both events should occur. All will + be, in due time, explained to the reader’s satisfaction; at present we + will simply make the acquaintance of one of the most distinguished + statesmen of the epoch. + </p> + <p> + My friendly relations with the judge came about in a very simple manner. + He was an intimate associate of the gentleman at whose house I was + staying; had taken great interest in my recovery after Yellow Tavern; and + therefore had done me the honor to bestow his friendship upon me. + </p> + <p> + On the day to which we have now come, Judge Conway had made a speech of + surpassing eloquence, in Congress, on the condition of the country, and I + had listened, thrilling at the brave voice which rang out its sonorous, + “All’s well!” amid the storm. I was now going to call on the statesman to + express my admiration of his eloquent appeal, and converse upon the + exciting topics of the hour. + </p> + <p> + I found him in a mansion not far from the splendid residence of Mr. + Blocque. Here he occupied “apartments,” or rather a single room,—and, + in 1864, my dear reader, that was a very common mode of living. + </p> + <p> + Like others, Judge Conway was too poor to occupy a whole house,—even + too poor to board. He had a single apartment, containing a few chairs and + a bed; was waited on by a maid; and, I think, prepared his own meals, + which were plain to poverty. + </p> + <p> + He met me at the door of his bare and poor-looking apartment, extending + his hand with the gracious and stately courtesy of the ancient régime. His + figure was small, slight, and bent by age; his face, thin and pale; his + hair nearly white, and falling in long curls upon his shoulders; under the + gray brows sparkled keen, penetrating, but benignant eyes. + </p> + <p> + As I pressed the hand of my host, and looked around the poor apartment, I + could not refrain from a sentiment of profound bitterness. Two days before + I had dined at the table of a peddling blockade-runner, who ate + canvass-backs, drank champagne, wore “fine linen,” and, dodging the + conscript officers, revelled in luxury and plenty. And now here before me + was a gentleman of ancient lineage, whose ancestors had been famous, who + had himself played a great part in the history of the commonwealth,—and + this gentleman was poor, lived in lodgings, had scarce a penny; he had + been wealthy, and was still the owner of great possessions; but the bare + land was all that was left him for support. He had been surrounded with + luxury, but had sacrificed all to the cause. He had had two gallant sons, + but they had fallen at the first Manassas—their crossed swords were + above his poor bare mantel-piece. + </p> + <p> + From the splendid table of the sneaking blockade-runner, I had come to the + poverty-stricken apartment of this great statesman and high-bred + gentleman. “Oh, Juvenal!” I muttered, “it is your satires, not the + bucolics of Virgil, that suit this epoch!” + </p> + <p> + The old statesman pointed, with all the grace of a nobleman, to a bare + rocking-chair, and received my congratulations upon his speech with modest + simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that my views are honored by your good opinion, colonel,” he + said, “and that you approve of the tone of them. I am naturally given to + invective—a habit derived from my friend, the late Mr. Randolph; but + the country wants encouragement.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet not to satirize is so hard, my dear sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Very hard.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of the army depleted—the soldiers starving—the finances + in ruin, and entire destruction threatening us!” + </p> + <p> + The old statesman was silent. A moment afterward he raised his head, and + with his thin finger pointed to the crossed swords above his mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + “I try to bear and forbear since I lost my poor boys,” he said. “They died + for their country—I ought to live for it, and do what I can in my + sphere—to suppress my bitterness, and try to utter words of good + cheer. But we are discussing gloomy topics. Let us come to more cheerful + matters. I am in very good spirits to-day. My daughters have come to make + me a visit,” and the old face glowed with smiles; its expression was quite + charming. + </p> + <p> + “I see you do not appreciate that great treat, my dear colonel,” he added, + smiling. “You are yet unmarried, though I rejoice to hear you are soon to + be united to a daughter of my old friend, Colonel Beverly, of “The Oaks.” + Some day I hope you will know the great charm of paternity. This morning I + was lonely—this evening I am no longer so. Georgia and Virginia have + come up from my house, “Five Forks,” escorted by my faithful old Juba, and + they burst in upon me like the sunshine!” + </p> + <p> + The words had scarcely been uttered when a tap came at the door; a voice + said, “May we come in, papa?” and a moment afterward the door opened, and + admitted Miss Georgia Conway and her sister Virginia. + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgia was the same tall and superb beauty, with the dark hair and + eyes; Miss Virginia the same winning little blonde, with the blue eyes, + and the smiles which made her lips resemble rose-buds. The young ladies + were clad in poor, faded-looking calicoes, and the slippers on the small + feet, peeping from their skirts, were full of holes. Such was the + appearance presented in that summer of 1864, my dear reader, by two of the + most elegant and “aristocratic” young ladies of Virginia! + </p> + <p> + But you did not look at the calicoes, and soon forgot the holes in the + shoes. My bow was such as I should have bestowed on two princesses, and + the young ladies received it with a grace and courtesy which were + charming. + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes we were all talking like old friends, and the young ladies + were making tea. + </p> + <p> + This was soon ready; some bread, without butter, was placed upon the + little table; and the meal was the most cheerful and happy imaginable. + “Oh, my dear Mr. Blocque!” I could not help saying to myself, “keep your + champagne, and canvass-backs, and every luxury, and welcome! I like dry + bread and tea, with this company, better!” + </p> + <p> + I have not room to repeat the charming words, mingled with laughter, of + the young women, on that evening. Their presence was truly like sunshine, + and you could see the reflection of it upon the old statesman’s + countenance. + </p> + <p> + Only once that countenance was overshadowed. I had uttered the name of + Willie Davenant, by accident; and then all at once remembering the scene + at Culpeper Court-House, had looked quietly at Judge Conway and Miss + Virginia. A deep frown was on his face—that of the young girl was + crimson with blushes, and two tears came to her eyes, as she caught her + father’s glance of displeasure. + </p> + <p> + I hastened to change the topic—to banish the dangerous subject; and + in a few moments everybody was smiling once more. Miss Georgia, in her + stately and amusing way, was relating their experiences from a scouting + party of the enemy, at “Five Forks.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard something of this from old Juba,” said the Judge; “you do not + mention your deliverer, however.” + </p> + <p> + “Our deliverer, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “General Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgia unmistakably blushed in her turn. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I forgot!” she said, carelessly, “General Mohun <i>did</i> drive them + off. Did I not mention it?—I should have done so before finishing, + papa.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, the young lady happened to catch my eye. I was laughing + quietly. Thereupon her head rose in a stately way—a decided pout + succeeded—finally, she burst into laughter. + </p> + <p> + The puzzled expression of the old Judge completed the comedy of the + occasion—we all laughed in a perfectly absurd and foolish way—and + the rest of the evening passed in the most cheerful manner imaginable. + </p> + <p> + When I bade my friends good evening, I knew something I had not known + before:—namely, that Mohun the woman-hater, had renewed his + “friendly relations” with Miss Georgia Conway, at her home in Dinwiddie. + </p> + <p> + Exchanging a pressure of the hand with my host and his charming daughters, + I bade them good evening, and returned homeward. As I went along, I + thought of the happy circle I had left; and again I could not refrain from + drawing the comparison between Judge Conway and Mr. Blocque. + </p> + <p> + At the fine house of the blockade-runner—champagne, rich viands, + wax-lights, gold and silver, and profuse luxury. + </p> + <p> + At the poor lodgings of the great statesman,—a cup of tea and cold + bread; stately courtesy from my host, charming smiles from his beautiful + daughters, clad in calico, with worn-out shoes—and above the simple + happy group, the crossed swords of the brave youths who had fallen at + Manassas! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0076" id="link2H_4_0076"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. — MR. X——-. + </h2> + <p> + It was past ten in the evening when I left Judge Conway. But I felt no + disposition to retire; and determined to pay a visit to a singular + character of my acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + The name of this gentleman was Mr. X——-. + </p> + <p> + Looking back now to the days spent in Richmond, in that curious summer of + ‘64, I recall, among the representative personages whom I encountered, no + individual more remarkable than the Honorable Mr. X——-. You + are acquainted with him, my dear reader, either personally or by + reputation, for he was a prominent official of the Confederate Government, + and, before the war, had been famous in the councils of “the nation.” + </p> + <p> + He resided at this time in a small house, on a street near the capitol. + You gained access to his apartment after night—if you knew the way—by + a winding path, through shrubbery, to the back door of the mansion. When + you entered, you found yourself in presence of a tall, powerful, + gray-haired and very courteous personage, who sat in a huge arm-chair, + near a table littered with papers, and smoked, meditatively, a cigar, the + flavor of which indicated its excellent quality. + </p> + <p> + I enjoyed the intimacy of Mr. X——- in spite of the difference + of our ages and positions. He had been the friend of my father, and, in my + turn, did me the honor to bestow his friendship upon me. On this evening I + was seized with the fancy to visit him—and passing through the + grounds of the capitol, where the bronze Washington and his great + companions looked silently out into the moonlight, reached the small + house, followed the path through the shrubbery, and opening the door in + the rear, found myself suddenly enveloped in a cloud of cigar smoke, + through which loomed the portly figure of Mr. X——-. + </p> + <p> + He was seated, as usual, in his large arm-chair, by the table, covered + with papers; and a small bell near his hand seemed placed there for the + convenience of summoning an attendant, without the trouble of rising. Near + the bell lay a package of foreign-looking documents. Near the documents + lay a pile of telegraphic dispatches. In the appearance and surroundings + of this man you read “Power.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. X——- received me with easy cordiality. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see you, my dear colonel,” he said, rising and shaking my hand; + then sinking back in his chair, “take a cigar, and tell me the news.” I + sat down,—having declined the proffered cigar. + </p> + <p> + “The news!” I said, laughing; “I ought to ask that of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you think I am well-informed?” + </p> + <p> + I pointed to the dispatches. Mr. X——- shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Papers from England and France—they are not going to recognize us. + </p> + <p> + “And those telegrams—nothing. We get little that is worth attention, + except a line now and then, signed ‘R.E. Lee.’” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is that signature,” I said, pointing to an open paper. + </p> + <p> + “It is a private letter to me—but do you wish to see a line which I + have just received? It is interesting, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + And he handed me a paper. + </p> + <p> + It was a telegram announcing the fall of Atlanta! + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” I said, “is it possible? Then there is nothing to stop + Sherman.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever,” said Mr. X——-, coolly. + </p> + <p> + “What will be the consequence?” + </p> + <p> + “The Confederacy will be cut in two. Sherman will be at Savannah before + Grant reaches the Southside road—or as soon, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “You think Grant will reach that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, by April; and then—you know what!” + </p> + <p> + “But Lee will protect it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. X——- shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell you a secret?” + </p> + <p> + I listened. + </p> + <p> + “Lee’s force is less than 50,000—next spring it will not number + 40,000. Grant’s will be at least four times that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why can not our army be re-enforced?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. X——- helped himself to a fresh cigar. + </p> + <p> + “The people are tired, and the conscript officers are playing a farce,” he + said. “The commissary department gives the army a quarter of a pound of + rancid meat. That even often fails, for the quartermaster’s department + does not supply it. The result is—no conscripts, and a thousand + desertions. The soldiers are starving; their wives and children are + writing them letters that drive them mad—the end is not far off; and + when Grant reaches the Southside road we are gone.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. X——- smoked his cigar with extreme calmness as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “But one thing remains,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Lee will retreat from Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. X——- shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “He will not.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “He will be prevented from doing so.” + </p> + <p> + “Under any circumstances?” + </p> + <p> + “Until too late, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “And the result?” + </p> + <p> + “Surrender—though he said to me the other day, when he came to see + me here, ‘For myself, I intend to die sword in hand.’” + </p> + <p> + I could not refrain from a sentiment of profound gloom, as I listened to + these sombre predictions. It seemed incredible that they could be well + founded, but I had more than once had an opportunity to remark the + extraordinary prescience of the remarkable man with whom I conversed. + </p> + <p> + “You draw a black picture of the future,” I said. “And the South seems + moving to and fro, on the crust of a volcano.” + </p> + <p> + “No metaphor could be more just.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will be the result of the war?” + </p> + <p> + “That is easy to reply to. Political slavery, negro suffrage, and the + bayonet, until the new leaven works.” + </p> + <p> + “The new leaven?” + </p> + <p> + “The conviction that democratic government is a failure.” + </p> + <p> + “And then—?” + </p> + <p> + “An emperor, or dictator—call him what you will. The main fact is, + that he will rule the country by the bayonet—North and South + impartially.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. X——- lit a fresh cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Things are going on straight to that,” he said. “The future is perfectly + plain to me, for I read it in the light of history. These events are going + to follow step by step. Lee is brave—no man is braver; a great + leader. I think him one of the first captains of the world. But in spite + of his courage and skill—in spite of the heroism of his army—in + spite of the high character and pure motives of the president—we are + going to fail. Then the rest will follow—negro suffrage and the + bayonet. Then the third era will begin—the disgust of the white man + at the equality of the negro; his distrust of a government which makes + such a farce possible; consequent revulsion against democracy; a tendency + toward monarchy; a king, emperor or dictator, who will restore order out + of the chaos of misrule and madness. England is rushing toward a + democracy, America is hastening to become an empire. For my own part I + think I prefer the imperial to the popular idea—Imperator to Demos. + It is a matter of taste, however.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. X——- turned his head, calling out, calmly, + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” + </p> + <p> + The door opened and a stranger glided into the apartment. He was clad in a + blue Federal uniform, half-concealed by a brown linen overall. His face + was almost covered by a red beard; his lips by a mustache of the same + color; and his eyes disappeared behind huge green goggles. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” repeated Mr. X——-, who seemed to recognize the + intruder; “what news?” + </p> + <p> + The personage glanced quickly at me. + </p> + <p> + “Speak before him,” said Mr. X——-, “he is a friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very well acquainted with Colonel Surry,” said the other, smiling, + “and have the honor to number him, I hope, among my own friends.” + </p> + <p> + With which words, the new-comer quietly removed his red beard, took off + his green spectacles, and I saw before me no less a personage than Mr. + Nighthawk! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. — “SEND ME A COPY.—IN CANADA!” + </h2> + <p> + Nothing was more surprising in this singular man than these sudden + appearances at places and times when you least expected him. + </p> + <p> + I had parted with him in Spottsylvania, on the night when he “deserted” + from the enemy, and rode into our lines; and he was then the secret agent + of General Stuart. Now, he reappeared in the city of Richmond, with an + excellent understanding, it was evident, between himself and Mr. X——-! + </p> + <p> + Our greeting was cordial, and indeed I never had classed Nighthawk among + professional spies. General Stuart assured me one day, that he invariably + refused all reward; and his profound, almost romantic devotion to Mohun, + had deeply impressed me. Love of country and watchful care of the young + cavalier, whose past life was as mysterious as his own, seemed the + controlling sentiments of Nighthawk; and he always presented himself to me + rather in the light of a political conspirator, than as a “spy.” + </p> + <p> + His first words now indicated that he was a secret agent of the + Government. He seemed to have been everywhere, and gained access to + everybody; and once more, as in June, 1863, when he appeared at Stuart’s + head-quarters, near Middleburg, he astonished me by the accuracy and + extent of his information. Political and military secrets of the highest + importance, and calling for urgent action on the part of the Government, + were detailed by Nighthawk, in his calm and benignant voice; he gave us an + account of a long interview which he had had at City Point, with General + Grant; and wound up as usual by announcing an impending battle—a + movement of the enemy, which duly took place as he announced. + </p> + <p> + Mr. X——- listened with close attention, asking few questions. + </p> + <p> + When Nighthawk had made his report, the statesman looked at his watch, + said, <i>sotto voce</i>, “Midnight—too late,” and added aloud:— + </p> + <p> + “Come back at ten to-morrow morning, my friend; your information is highly + interesting and important.” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk rose, and I did likewise, declining the courteous request of Mr. + X——- to prolong my visit. He held the door open with great + politeness and said, smiling:— + </p> + <p> + “I need not say, my dear colonel, that the views I have expressed this + evening are confidential—for the present, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly,” I replied, with a bow and a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Hereafter you are at liberty to repeat them, if you wish, only I beg you + will ascribe them to Mr. X——-, an unknown quantity. If you + write a book, and put me in it, send me a copy—in Canada!” + </p> + <p> + A moment afterward I was wending my way through the shrubbery, thinking of + the curious personage I had left. + </p> + <p> + At the gate Nighthawk awaited me, and I scarcely recognized him. He had + resumed his red beard, and green glasses. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see you again, colonel,” he said benignantly; “I heard that + you were in the city and called at your lodgings, but found you absent.” + </p> + <p> + “You wished to see me particularly, then, Nighthawk.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and to-night, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “I know you are a friend of General Mohun’s.” + </p> + <p> + “A very sincere friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think we will be able to do him a very great service by attending + to a little matter in which he is interested, colonel. Are you disengaged, + and willing to accompany me?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0078" id="link2H_4_0078"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. — THE WAY THE MONEY WENT. + </h2> + <p> + I looked intently at Nighthawk. He was evidently very much in earnest. + </p> + <p> + “I am entirely disengaged, and perfectly willing to accompany you,” I + said; “but where?” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You know I am a mysterious person, colonel, both by character and + profession. I fear the habit is growing on me, in spite of every exertion + I make. I predict I will end by burning my coat, for fear it will tell + some of my secrets.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said with a smile, “keep your secret then, and lead the way. I + am ready to go far to oblige Mohun in any thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, colonel, from my heart. You have only to follow me.” + </p> + <p> + And Nighthawk set out at a rapid pace, through the grounds of the capitol, + toward the lower part of the city. + </p> + <p> + There was something as singular about the walk of my companion, as about + his appearance. He went at a great pace, but his progress was entirely + noiseless. You would have said that he was skimming along upon invisible + wings. + </p> + <p> + In an incredibly short time we had reached a street below the capitol, and + my companion, who had walked straight on without turning his head to the + right or the left, all at once paused before a tall and dingy-looking + house, which would have appeared completely uninhabited, except for a + bright red light which shone through a circular opening in the door. + </p> + <p> + At this door Nighthawk gave a single tap. The glass covering the circular + space glided back, and a face reconnoitred. My companion uttered two + words; and the door opened, giving access to a stairs, which we ascended, + the janitor having already disappeared. + </p> + <p> + At the head of the stairs was a door which Nighthawk opened, and we found + ourselves in an apartment where a dozen persons were playing faro. + </p> + <p> + Upon these Nighthawk threw a rapid glance—some one whom he appeared + to be seeking, was evidently not among the players. + </p> + <p> + Another moment he returned through the door, I following, and we ascended + a second flight of stairs, at the top of which was a second door. Here + another janitor barred the way, but my companion again uttered some low + words,—the door opened; a magnificently lit apartment, with a buffet + of liquors, and every edible, presented itself before us; and in the midst + of a dozen personages, who were playing furiously, I recognized—Mr. + Blocque, Mr. Croker, Mr. Torpedo, and Colonel Desperade. + </p> + <p> + For some moments I stood watching the spectacle, and it very considerably + enlarged my experience. Before me I saw prominent politicians, officers of + high rank, employees of government holding responsible positions, all + gambling with an ardor that amounted to fury. One gentleman in uniform—apparently + of the quartermaster’s department—held in his hand a huge package of + Confederate notes, of the denominations, of $100 and $500, and this worthy + staked, twice, the pretty little amount of $10,000 upon a card, and each + time lost. + </p> + <p> + The play so absorbed the soldiers, lawgivers, and law-administrators, that + our presence was unperceived. My friend, Mr. Blocque, did not turn his + head; Mr. Croker, Mr. Torpedo, and Colonel Desperade, were red in the face + and oblivious. + </p> + <p> + After that evening I knew where some of the public money went. + </p> + <p> + As I was looking at the strange scene of reckless excitement, one of the + players, a portly individual with black mustache, rich dark curls, gold + spectacles, and wearing a fine suit of broadcloth—rose and looked + toward us. Nighthawk was already gazing at him; and suddenly I saw their + glances cross like steel rapiers. They had evidently recognized each + other; and going up to the gentleman of the spectacles, Nighthawk said a + few words in a low voice, which I did not distinguish. + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure, my dear friend,” said the portly gentleman, “but you are + sure you are not provided with a detective of General Winder’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Can you believe such a thing?” returned Nighthawk, reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it possible you might have one waiting below; but if you give + me your word, Nighthawk—” + </p> + <p> + And without further objection the worthy followed Nighthawk and myself + down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + As we approached the outer door, the invisible janitor opened it; we + issued forth into the street; and the portly gentleman, fixing a keen look + upon me in the clear moonlight, said:— + </p> + <p> + “I believe we have had the pleasure of meeting before, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ashamed to say I do not remember where, sir,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “My memory is better, colonel; we met last May, in a house in the + Wilderness, near Chancellorsville.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible that you are—” + </p> + <p> + “Swartz, very much at your service. It is wonderful what a difference is + made by a wig and spectacles!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, he gracefully removed his black wig and the gold spectacles. + In the man with gray hair, small eyes, and double chin, I recognized the + spy of the Wilderness. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0079" id="link2H_4_0079"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. — THE PASS. + </h2> + <p> + Replacing his wig and spectacles, Mr. Swartz smiled in a good-humored + manner, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “May I ask to what I am indebted for this visit?” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk replied even more blandly:— + </p> + <p> + “I wish to have a conversation with you, my dear Swartz, before arresting + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you intend to arrest me!” + </p> + <p> + “Unless you make it unnecessary.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “By producing the paper which we spoke of in the Wilderness,” said + Nighthawk, briefly. + </p> + <p> + Swartz shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “That is not in my power, my friend. I did not bring it with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you think me very impolite if I say I do not believe you, my dear + Swartz?” + </p> + <p> + Swartz smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that would be speaking without ceremony, my friend—but I + assure you I am unable to do as you desire.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha! you repeat that curious statement, my dear Swartz! Well, oblige me + by accompanying me to the provost-marshal’s.” + </p> + <p> + “You arrest me?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely.” + </p> + <p> + “As a spy?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible, Nighthawk!” + </p> + <p> + “You resist?” + </p> + <p> + “I might do so.” + </p> + <p> + And, opening his coat, Mr. Swartz exhibited a bowie-knife and revolver. + </p> + <p> + “I show you these little toys,” said he, laughing good-humoredly, “to let + you see, my friend, that I might oppose your project—and you know I + am not backward in using them on occasion. But I make a difference. You + are not a common police-officer or detective, Nighthawk—you are a + friend and comrade, and I am going to prove that I appreciate your + feelings, and respect your wishes.” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk fixed his eyes on the speaker and listened. + </p> + <p> + “You are a friend of General Mohun’s,” said Mr. Swartz, with bland good + humor; “you wish to secure a certain document in which he is interested; + you fancy I have that document here in the city of Richmond; and your + object, very naturally, is to force me to surrender it. Well, I do not + object to doing so—for a consideration. I fully intend to produce + it, when my terms are accepted. I would have stated them to you in the + Wilderness, but you were unable to meet me—or to General Mohun, but + his violence defeated every thing. You meet me now, and without + discussion, demand the paper. I reply, that I have not brought it with me, + but three days from this time will meet you at a spot agreed on, with the + document, for which you will return me—my consideration.” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, my dear Swartz, experience tells me that the present is + always the best time for business—that ‘a bird in the hand is worth + two in the bush.’” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Swartz smiled sweetly. + </p> + <p> + “And I am the bird in your hand?” + </p> + <p> + “Something like it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am a spy?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t use hard names, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “By no means, my dear Nighthawk, and if I have hurt your feelings, I + deeply regret it. But I am speaking to the point. You regard me as a + Federal spy, lurking in Richmond—you penetrate my disguise, and are + going to arrest me, and search my lodgings for that paper.” + </p> + <p> + “The necessity is painful,” said Nighthawk. + </p> + <p> + “It is useless, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I will try it.” + </p> + <p> + Swartz smiled, and drew a paper from his pocket, which he unfolded. + </p> + <p> + “You are then determined to arrest your old comrade, Nighthawk.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear Swartz.” + </p> + <p> + “As a spy?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “In spite of this?” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Swartz held out the paper. + </p> + <p> + “Do me the favor to read this, colonel, and then oblige me by returning + it.” + </p> + <p> + I took the paper, and easily read it by moonlight. It contained the + following words:— + </p> + <p> + “The bearer is employed on secret service, by the Confederate Government, + and will not be molested.” + </p> + <p> + The paper was signed by a personage of high position in the government, + and was stamped with the seal of the department over which he presided. + There could be no doubt of the genuineness of the paper. The worthy Mr. + Swartz loomed up before me in the novel and unexpected light of a <i>Confederate</i> + emissary! + </p> + <p> + I read the paper aloud to Nighthawk, and pointed to the official signature + and seal. + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk uttered a groan, and his chin sank upon his breast. + </p> + <p> + That spectacle seemed to excite the sympathy of his friend. + </p> + <p> + “There, my dear Nighthawk,” said Mr. Swartz, in a feeling tone, “don’t + take the blow too much to heart. I have beaten you, this game, and your + hands are tied at present. But I swear that I will meet you, and produce + that paper.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” murmured Nighthawk. + </p> + <p> + “In three days from this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “At the house of our friend Alibi, near Monk’s Neck, in Dinwiddie.” + </p> + <p> + “On your word?” + </p> + <p> + “On the word of Swartz!” + </p> + <p> + “That is enough, my dear Swartz; I will be at Alibi’s, when we will come + to terms. And now, pardon this visit, which has put you to so much + inconvenience. I was merely jesting, my dear friend, when I spoke of + arresting you. Arrest you! Nothing could induce me to think of so + unfriendly a proceeding. And now, good night, my dear friend. I will + return with you, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + With which words Nighthawk saluted his “friend,” and we returned toward + the upper part of the city. + </p> + <p> + Such were the scenes of a night in the summer of 1864. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. — THE GRAVE OF STUART. + </h2> + <p> + On the next morning a piece of good fortune befell me. In spite of + continued visits to the war-office, and an amount of importunity which + must have been exceedingly annoying to the gentlemen of the red tape, I + found myself, at the end of August, apparently no nearer to an “assignment + to duty” than at first. + </p> + <p> + It really seemed that the Confederate States had no need of my services; + that the privilege of performing military duty in behalf of the Government + was one jealously guarded, and not to be lightly bestowed upon any one. I + was in despair, and was revolving the project of resigning my empty + commission, and enlisting in the cavalry as a private soldier, when the <i>deus + ex machinâ</i> to extricate me from all my troubles, appeared in the + person of Colonel P——-, of army head-quarters. + </p> + <p> + This accomplished soldier and gentleman met me as I was coming out of the + war-office, on the morning after the visit to Mr. X——-, + looking I suppose, like some descendant of the Knight of the Sorrowful + Countenance, and stopped to inquire the cause of my dejection. I informed + him of the whole affair, and he laughed heartily. “You have set about your + affairs, my dear colonel, in a manner entirely wrong,” he said. “You + should have gone to some general, discovered that your grandmother and his + own were third cousins; expressed your admiration of his valor; denounced + the brother-general with whom he was quarreling; written puffs to the + papers about him; and then, one morning said, ‘By the by, general, you are + entitled to another staff officer.’ The result would have been a glowing + letter to the war department, requesting your assignment—you would + have attained your object—you would have been torn from the horrors + of Richmond, and once more enjoyed the great privilege of being shot at!” + </p> + <p> + I echoed the colonel’s laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” I said, “I have no genius for all that. I never yet could ‘crook + the hinges of the knee that thrift might follow fawning,’ and I suppose I + shall be compelled to resign, and enter the ranks. Why not? Better men are + there, carrying musket or carbine, or pulling the lanyard.” + </p> + <p> + “Still you gained your rank by your services—and I am going to make + you an offer which will enable you to retain it. Come and be my assistant + inspector-general—an officer is required to inspect the cavalry and + horse artillery, which is so distant, often, that I have no time to visit + them.” + </p> + <p> + “A thousand thanks, colonel! You could not offer me a more pleasant duty.” + </p> + <p> + “You will have to ride a great deal, but will have a great deal of + freedom. If you consent to my proposition, I will have the matter arranged + at once, and will request you to make a tour of inspection to General + Early’s army, near Winchester.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “‘The Oaks’ is—a charming place,” he added, “and you are certain to + be very tired when you reach the vicinity of Markham’s! If you find it + convenient to stop there—say, for a day or more—present my + regards to Colonel Beverly, and any of the family you find present!” + </p> + <p> + With which words he laughed again, shook me by the hand, and then his tall + form disappeared in the doorway of the war office. + </p> + <p> + On the next day I found my assignment awaiting me. I was appointed + assistant inspector-general of the cavalry and horse artillery of the army + of Northern Virginia. Tremendous title! + </p> + <p> + That evening I went by railway to Petersburg, to visit Colonel P——-, + and receive his instructions. Returning the same night, the next day set + out on horseback for the Valley of the Shenandoah, by way of Orange, + Gaines’s Cross Roads, and Ashby’s Gap. + </p> + <p> + Of this journey it is unnecessary for me to speak in the present volume. + Some curious adventures occurred to me, in the valley, near Millwood, and + I made the acquaintance of St. Leger Landon, of “Bizarre,” one of the + bravest and truest gentlemen I have ever known. The adventures alluded to, + and some events in the strange history of my friend, Captain Landon, are + embraced in a separate memoir, to which I have given the fanciful title, + <i>Hilt to Hilt, or Days and Nights on the Banks of the Shenandoah</i>. + </p> + <p> + I remained in the valley from the first to the eighteenth of September, + when I set out on my return to Petersburg, little thinking that, on the + very next day, General Early would be attacked on the Opequon, driven from + Winchester, and forced to retreat up the valley, in spite of fighting + which was never surpassed. + </p> + <p> + I had received some rough handling in a cavalry combat near the Old + Chapel, beyond Millwood, and my ride back was tedious. But at last I + reached Richmond, and made preparations to set out at once for the army. + On the evening before my departure, I went to visit the grave of Stuart at + Hollywood, on the beautiful hill above the falls, west of the city. + </p> + <p> + As I approached the lonely spot, where the great cavalier was lying beside + his little Flora, of whom he had often spoken to me with tears, a thousand + memories knocked at the door of my heart. With head bent down, and chin + resting on my breast, I drew near the grassy mound over which waved the + autumn foliage, tinted with yellow and crimson—and in these few + moments, all the splendid career of Stuart passed before me, as on that + day when I rode with him toward the fatal field of Yellow Tavern. + </p> + <p> + I remembered all his hard combats, his glorious encounters, his victories + over such odds as vindicated his claim to a descent from the dashing + Rupert, and ranked him with the most famous leaders of cavalry in all + history. I recalled the courage, the joy, the gay laughter of the great + soldier—the blue eyes that flashed so—the sonorous voice + singing the merry songs. I remembered all the occasions when he had led + his men in the charge—how he had wept for Jackson, bowed his head + above the cold face of Pelham—how he had met the torrent unmoved, + shrunk from nothing in his path, fallen to save the Virginia capital, and + died murmuring “God’s will be done!”—I remembered all that, and with + something in my throat that seemed choking me, drew near the quiet mound, + beneath which rested such a career, and so much glory. + </p> + <p> + The birds were twittering and singing, the foliage waving gently—I + raised my head—when suddenly I became aware that a solitary mourner + was bending over the grave. + </p> + <p> + He was an officer in gray uniform. He held a flower in his hand, which he + dropped upon the grave, uttering a low sob as he did so. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment he turned round, and I recognized the great partisan, + Colonel Mosby.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Real.} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0081" id="link2H_4_0081"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. — THE CEDARS. + </h2> + <p> + Twenty-four hours after, I had passed over the same number of miles, and + found myself at the staff head-quarters, on the left bank of the + Appomattox, above Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + I had soon pitched my tent, with the assistance of a servant; had erected + a hedge of cedar boughs to protect it from the cutting blasts of the + coming winter; and, a few days afterwards, was surrounded with many + objects of comfort. My tent had been floored; at one end rose an excellent + chimney; strips of planks, skillfully balanced on two logs, supplied a + spring bed; I had secured a split bottom chair, and my saddle and bridle + were disposed upon a rough rack, near a black valise containing my small + stock of apparel, and the pine table and desk holding official papers. + </p> + <p> + Having christened this castle “The Cedars,” I settled down for a long + winter,—and it was not a great while before I congratulated myself + on the good fortune which had provided me with that warm nest. More than + once, however, I experienced something like a sentiment of shame, when, in + the dark and freezing nights, with the hail rattling on my tent, I sat by + my warm fire, and heard the crack of the sharp-shooters, along the lines + beyond Petersburg. What right had I to be there, by that blazing fire, in + my warm tent, when my brethren—many of them my betters—were + yonder, fighting along the frozen hills? What had I done to deserve that + comfort, and exemption from all pain? I was idling, or reading by my + blazing fire,—<i>they</i> were keeping back the enemy, and, perhaps, + falling and dying in the darkness. I was musing in my chair, gazing into + the blaze, and going back in memory to the fond scenes of home, so + clearly, that I laughed the heart’s laugh, and was happy. And they? They, + too, were thinking of home, perhaps,—of their wives and children, to + sink down the next moment shivering with cold, or stagger and fall, with + spouting blood, as the bullet pierced them. Why should <i>I</i> be thus + favored by a good Providence? I often asked myself that question, and I + could not answer it. I could only murmur, “I did not sneak here to get out + of the way of the bullets,—those, yonder, are my betters,—God + guard and keep the brave soldiers of this army!” + </p> + <p> + And now, worthy reader, having given you some idea of the manner in which + the more fortunate ones wintered near Petersburg, in 1864, I am going to + drop the subject of army head-quarters, and my surroundings there. Jackson + and Stuart are dead, and have become figures of history. I have drawn them + as well as I could,—I dare not attempt to do the same with the great + commander-in-chief. He is alive. May he live long!—and, saluting + him, I pass on. + </p> + <p> + So if I speak of General Lee, it will be of the individual in his official + character. What he utters, he will have uttered in the hearing of many. + </p> + <p> + With these words of preface, I resume the thread of my history. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0082" id="link2H_4_0082"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. — THE SITUATION. + </h2> + <p> + October, 1864, had come. + </p> + <p> + The “situation” may be described in a few words. + </p> + <p> + Grant had drawn his lines from a point in Charles City, on the left bank + of James River, across that stream and across the Appomattox, around + Petersburg to the Squirrel Level road, where he threatened the Southside + railroad, Lee’s line of communication with the south and west. Fort + Harrison had just been taken. Grant was gradually hemming in his opponent + along the immense line extending across the two rivers, past the scene of + the famous “Crater” explosion, to the vicinity of the Rowanty, a distance + of nearly forty miles. One incessant crash and thunder went up, day and + night. Grant was “hammering continuously,” carrying out his programme; + and, the military view apart, never was spectacle more picturesque than + that presented in these combats. + </p> + <p> + The long lines of works were wreathed with the smoke of battle. The glare + of cannon lit the smoke-cloud; mortar shells rose, described their fiery + curves, and descended in the trenches, and these were saluted as they rose + and fell by the crack of musketry, the roar of artillery, the echoing + cheers of the blue and gray people, who never seemed weary of fighting, + yelling, and paying their compliments to each other. At night the + spectacle was superb; the mortars were like flocks of fire-birds, swooping + down upon their prey. The horizon glared at each cannon-shot; shell burst + in vivid lightnings, shining for a moment, then extinguished. And yonder + object, like a bloodshot eye, shining grimly through the darkness,—what + is that? It is a lamp, my dear reader, with a transparent shade; and on + this shade is written, for the information of the graybacks:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “While yet the lamp holds out to burn, + The vilest rebel may return.” + </pre> + <p> + Lee’s lines faced Grant’s, following the blue cordon across the rivers, + around Petersburg, toward the Southside railroad. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the right of the Confederate infantry stretched the cavalry, which + consisted of the divisions of Wade Hampton and W.H.F. Lee,—the + former commanding. Fitz Lee, with his division, was in the Valley. + </p> + <p> + Such, reader was the situation, when I joined the army. The great fifth + act of the tragic drama was approaching. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0083" id="link2H_4_0083"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. — MOHUN AGAIN. + </h2> + <p> + Three days after my arrival, I mounted my horse, crossed the Appomattox, + followed the Boydton road, struck southward at the Quaker road, and soon + found myself in the heart of the shadowy pine woods of that singular + country, Dinwiddie. + </p> + <p> + My official duty was to inspect and report the condition of the cavalry + and horse artillery of the army at the beginning and middle of each month. + And now, first assuring the reader that I performed my duty in all + weather, and amid every difficulty, I will drop the official phase of my + history, and proceed to matters rather more entertaining. + </p> + <p> + On the day after my departure from Petersburg, I had made my inspections, + and was returning. + </p> + <p> + I had been received by my old friends of the cavalry with every mark of + cordial regard. General Hampton, General Lee, and the various officers and + men whom I had known as a staff-officer of General Stuart, seemed to + welcome the sight of a face which, perhaps, reminded them of their dead + leader; and I had pressed all these warm hands, and received these + friendly greetings not without emotion—for I, too, was carried back + to the past. + </p> + <p> + I saw Mordaunt and Davenant, but not Mohun—he was absent, visiting + his picket line. Mordaunt was the same stately soldier—his grave and + friendly voice greeted me warmly as in old days; and Willie Davenant, now + a major, commanding a battalion of horse artillery, shook hands with me, + as shy and blushing as before—and even more sad. + </p> + <p> + “How had his suit prospered? Were things more encouraging?” + </p> + <p> + I asked him these questions with a laugh, apologizing for my intrusion. + </p> + <p> + He assured me sadly that it was not in the least an intrusion; but that he + had not seen the person to whom I alluded, for many months. + </p> + <p> + And executing a blush which would have become a girl, this young tiger of + the horse artillery—for such he always proved himself, in a fight—hastened + to change the subject. Soon afterward I took my departure, turned my + horse’s head toward Petersburg, and set out at a round trot between the + walls of pine. + </p> + <p> + It was dusk when I reached the debouchment of the “military road,” and, + tired and hungry, I was contemplating ruefully the long ride still before + me, when rapid hoof-strokes behind me attracted my attention, and, turning + my head, I recognized the bold figure of Mohun. + </p> + <p> + He was mounted on a fine animal, and came at full speed. + </p> + <p> + In a moment he had caught up, recognized, and we exchanged a warm grasp of + the hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted to see you, Surry. I thought you had deserted us, old + fellow. The sight of you is a treat!” + </p> + <p> + “And the sight of you, my dear Mohun. You look beaming.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Mohun had never presented a better appearance, with his dark eyes; + his tanned and glowing cheeks; his raven mustached lips, which, parting + with a smile, showed white and regular teeth. He was the picture of a + gallant soldier; all his old melancholy and cynical bitterness gone, as + mist is swept away by the morning sunshine. + </p> + <p> + “You are positively dazzling, Mohun. Where are you going, and what has + happened to you? Ah!—I begin to understand!” + </p> + <p> + And pointing northward, I said:— + </p> + <p> + “Five Forks is not far from here, is it?” + </p> + <p> + Mohun colored, but, the next moment, burst into laughter. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, old friend! It is impossible to hide any thing from you.” + </p> + <p> + “And a friend of yours is there—whom you are going to see?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear Surry,” was his reply, in a voice of sudden earnestness, + “you are not mistaken, and you see I am like all the rest of the world. + When we first met on the Rapidan, I was a woman-hater. I despised them + all, for I had had reason. That was my state of mind, when a very + beautiful and noble girl, whom you have seen, crossed my path. Events + threw us together—first, the wound I received at Fleetwood—she + caught me as I was falling on that day—and several times afterward I + saw and conversed with her, finding her proud, satirical, indifferent to + admiration, but as honest and true as steel. Still, our relations did not + proceed beyond friendship, and when I told you one day in the Wilderness + that I was not her suitor, I spoke the truth. I am not exactly able to say + as much to-day!—But to finish my account of myself: I came here to + Dinwiddie on the right of the army, and a week or two after my arrival the + enemy made a cavalry raid toward the Southside railroad. I followed, and + came up with them as they were plundering a house not far from Five Forks. + Well, I charged and drove them into the woods—when, who should make + her appearance at the door but Miss Conway, whom I had last seen in + Culpeper! As you know, her father resides here—he is now at Richmond—and, + after following the enemy back to their own lines, hurrying them up with + sabre and carbine, I came back to inquire the extent of their depredations + at Five Forks. + </p> + <p> + “Such is the simple explanation of the present ‘situation,’ my dear + friend. Miss Virginia cordially invited me to come whenever I could do so, + and although Miss Georgia was less pressing—in fact, said nothing on + the subject—I was not cast down thereby! I returned, have been often + since, and—that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun laughed the heart’s laugh. You have heard that, have you not, + reader? “Now tell me about yourself,” he added, “and on the way to Five + Forks! I see you are tired and hungry. Come! they have the easiest chairs + yonder, and are the soul of hospitality!” + </p> + <p> + The offer was tempting. Why not accept it? My hesitation lasted exactly + three seconds. + </p> + <p> + At the end of that time, I was riding beside Mohun in the direction of + Five Forks, which we reached just as I terminated my account of myself + since Mohun and I had parted in the Wilderness. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0084" id="link2H_4_0084"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. — “FIVE FORKS.” + </h2> + <p> + “Five Forks” was an old mansion not far from the place of the same name, + now become historical. It was a building of large size; the grounds were + extensive, and had been elegant; the house had evidently been the home of + a long line of gentlemen, whose portraits, flanked by those of their fair + helpmates, adorned the walls of the great drawing-room, between the lofty + windows. In the hall stood a tall bookcase, filled with law books, and + volumes of miscellany. From the woodwork hung pictures of racehorses, and + old engravings. Such was the establishment which the Federal cavalry had + visited, leaving, as always, their traces, in broken furniture, smashed + crockery, and trampled grounds. + </p> + <p> + I shall not pause to describe my brief visit to this hospitable house. The + young ladies had returned from Richmond some time before, escorted by the + gray-haired Juba, that faithful old African retainer; and, as a result of + the evenings which I had spent with them and their father, I had the honor + to be received in the character of an old friend. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes after my arrival I saw that Mohun was passionately in love + with Miss Georgia; and I thought I perceived as clearly that she returned + his affection. Their eyes—those tell-tales—were incessantly + meeting; and Mohun followed every movement of the queenly girl with those + long, fixed glances, which leave nothing in doubt. + </p> + <p> + The younger sister, Miss Virginia, received me with charming sweetness, + but a secret melancholy weighed down the dusky eye-lashes. The blue eyes + were sad; the very smiles on the rosy lips were sad. All was plain here, + too, at a single glance. The pure girl had given her heart to the brave + Willie Davenant, and some mysterious hostility of her father toward the + young officer, forced them apart. + </p> + <p> + What was the origin of that hostility? Why had Judge Conway so abruptly + torn his daughter away from Davenant at the ball in Culpeper—and why + had that shadow passed over the old statesman’s brow when I uttered the + name of the young man in Richmond? + </p> + <p> + I asked myself these questions vainly—and decided in my mind that I + should probably never know. + </p> + <p> + I was mistaken. I was going to know before midnight. + </p> + <p> + After an excellent supper, over which Miss Georgia presided with stately + dignity—for she, too, had changed, in as marked a degree as Mohun,—I + rose, declared I must return to Petersburg, and bade the young ladies, who + cordially pressed me to remain, good-night. + </p> + <p> + Mohun declared that he would remain an hour longer—and having + promised a visit soon, at his camp on the Rowanty, I mounted my horse, and + set out, through the darkness, for Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0085" id="link2H_4_0085"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. — GENERAL DAVENANT. + </h2> + <p> + Following the White Oak road, I passed Hatcher’s Run at Burgess’s mill, + and went on over the Boydton road, reflecting upon the scene I had just + left. + </p> + <p> + All at once my horse placed his foot upon a sharp root in the road, + stumbled, nearly fell, and when I touched him with the spur I found that + he limped painfully. + </p> + <p> + Dismounting, I examined his foot. The sharp point had entered it, and it + was bleeding profusely. The accident was unfortunate—and, attempting + to ride on, I found the hurt worse than I had expected. My gray staggered + on as if the limb were broken. + </p> + <p> + I dismounted once more, led him slowly by the bridle, and continued my way + on foot. A quarter of a mile farther, the animal was in such agony that I + looked around for some light, by which to examine the hurt more fully. + </p> + <p> + On the right, a glimmer was seen through the trees. I made straight toward + it, through the woods, and soon found myself near a group of tents, one of + which was lit up. + </p> + <p> + “Whose head-quarters are these?” I asked of a man on post, near. + </p> + <p> + “Mine, my dear colonel,” said a voice in the darkness near. “My candle + yonder is hospitable and enables me to recognize you.” + </p> + <p> + With which words the figure advanced into the light, and I recognized the + tall and stately form of General Davenant. + </p> + <p> + He gave me his hand cordially, and I explained my dilemma. “You are + unfortunate, but fortunate, too,” said Davenant, “as I have a man among my + couriers who knows all about horses. I will send yours to him; meanwhile + come into my tent.” + </p> + <p> + And intrusting my horse to the orderly with some brief directions, the + general led the way into his head-quarters tent. + </p> + <p> + A cheerful fire burned in the rude log-built chimney. On one side were a + plain desk and two camp-stools; on the other a rough couch of pine logs, + filled with straw, and spread with blankets. Upon the blankets a boy of + about fourteen was sound asleep, the light auburn curls tossed in disorder + over the rosy young face. At a glance I recognized the youth who had + entered the ranks at Gettysburg, taken part in Pickett’s charge, and been + borne out through the smoke, wounded and bleeding, in the arms of his + father. The young Charley had evidently recovered, and was as ruddy as + before. His little braided jacket was as jaunty, his face as smiling, as + on that evening near Paris. + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward, General Davenant and myself were conversing like old + friends. We were by no means strangers, as I had repeatedly been thrown + with him in the army, and my intimacy with Will doubtless commended me to + the brave soldier’s regard. An accident now seemed about to make us still + better acquainted. The orderly had reported that it would be impossible to + proceed farther with my horse that night, and I had accepted the + invitation of General Davenant to remain with him until morning. + </p> + <p> + “My brigade is holding the right of the army, colonel,” he had said; “we + have just moved to this position, and have not had time to become very + comfortable. But I can offer you a tolerable supper and a camp-bed after + it, with a warm welcome, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + I declined the supper, but accepted the bed; and seated opposite the + grizzled old cavalier, in his gray uniform, had begun to converse. + </p> + <p> + Something about the stately general of infantry, drew me irresistibly + toward him. His bearing was lofty, and not without a species of hauteur; + but under all was an exquisite high-breeding and courtesy, which made his + society quite charming. + </p> + <p> + At some words of mine, however, in reference to my visit on this day to + his son, a decided expression of gloom had obscured the smiles of the old + soldier. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, colonel,” he said, with something like a sigh, “Willie has lost his + good spirits, and has been much depressed for more than a year. You are + his friend—you share his confidence—you doubtless know the + origin of this depression.” + </p> + <p> + “I do, general; a very common cause of trouble to young men—a young + lady.” + </p> + <p> + “A young lady,” repeated General Davenant, in the same gloomy tone. “He + has committed the imprudence of falling in love, as the phrase is, with—Miss + Conway.” + </p> + <p> + He paused before the words “Miss Conway,” and uttered them with evident + repugnance. They issued from his lips, indeed, with a species of jerk; and + he seemed glad to get rid of them, if I may so express myself. + </p> + <p> + “I can talk of this affair with you, colonel,” he added, gloomily, “for + Will has told me of your regard for him.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “You are not wrong in supposing that I am one of your son’s best friends, + general. I was long in the cavalry with him—there is no more heroic + soldier in the army—and it has given me sincere sorrow to see him + laboring under such melancholy.” + </p> + <p> + General Davenant, with his hand covering his brow, listened in silence. + </p> + <p> + “I have not inquired the origin of this depression,” I added—“that + would have been indiscreet—though I know Will would tell me. I + guessed it, however, and I have visited the young lady at her house + to-night. I will certainly use my utmost exertions to remove all + obstacles.” + </p> + <p> + General Davenant suddenly rose erect. His eye was flashing. + </p> + <p> + “I beg you will not, colonel!” he exclaimed. “The barrier between himself + and—Miss Conway—can never be removed.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at the speaker’s flushed face with positive wonder, and replied:— + </p> + <p> + “You astonish me, general! Are there any such obstacles in life?” + </p> + <p> + “There are!” + </p> + <p> + I made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “There are, colonel,” repeated the now fiery old soldier. “Judge Conway + has been guilty of a gross wrong to me. No son of mine shall ever form an + alliance with his family!” + </p> + <p> + I looked up with deep astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “This is a very great surprise to me, my dear general,” I said; “I + thought, from many things, that it was Judge Conway who opposed this + alliance; and from the belief that <i>you</i> had done <i>him</i> some + great wrong.” + </p> + <p> + General Davenant had taken his seat again, after his outburst. Once more + his forehead was covered with his hand. For some moments he preserved a + silence so profound, that nothing disturbed the night but the long + breathing of the sleeping boy, and the measured tramp of the sentinel. + </p> + <p> + Then, all at once, the general raised his head. His expression was no + longer fiery—it was unutterably sad. + </p> + <p> + “I have been reflecting, colonel,” he said gravely, “and, in these few + minutes, have come to a somewhat singular determination.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that, general?” + </p> + <p> + “To tell you why <i>my</i> son can never marry the daughter of Judge + Conway!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0086" id="link2H_4_0086"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. — TWO MEN AND A WOMAN. + </h2> + <p> + General Davenant leaned his elbow on the desk, rested his forehead in his + hand, and said in a deep, measured voice:— + </p> + <p> + “My story need not be a long one, colonel. Those who relate gay adventures + and joyous experiences, indulge in endless details—memory is + charming to them at such moments—they go back to the past, with a + smile on the lips, recalling every little detail, every color of the + bright picture. + </p> + <p> + “My own narrative will be brief, because it is a gloomy one. It is far + from pleasant to return to the scenes I propose to describe. I only do so + to erase a stigma which seems to attach to my family and myself; to show + you that, in spite of Judge Conway, I deserve your good opinion. Assuredly + I do not propose any pleasure to myself in relating these events. Alas! + one of the bitterest things to a proud man—and I am proud—is + to even seem to defend his good name from imputed dishonor!” + </p> + <p> + Knitting his brows as he spoke, the old soldier looked gloomily into the + blaze before us. In a moment, he went on:— + </p> + <p> + “I was born in the county of Dinwiddie, colonel, where my family had lived + from the time of the first settlement of Virginia. My father was a large + landholder, and his most intimate friend was Mr. Conway, the father of the + present judge. The family friendship was inherited by the young people of + the two families—and my two most intimate friends were George and + William Conway. One is dead, the other is Judge William Conway, member of + Congress. We had played together as children, been companions at school. + When our fathers died, and we in turn became the representatives of the + two families, our friendship became even more close. I was half my time at + ‘Five Forks’—they paid long visits to me at ‘The Pines’—we + hunted together, went to entertainments together, drank wine together, and + were inseparable. + </p> + <p> + “George was especially my favorite. He was the soul of amiability; + everybody loved him; and I entertained for him the most tender friendship. + His brother William was equally estimable, but did not attract you as + strongly. Although a person of the highest sense of honor, and universally + respected for talents of the first order, he was irascible, bitter, and, + when once aroused, allowed nothing to restrain him. At such moments his + best friends avoided him, for he was dangerous. He brooked no opposition. + His anger was like a consuming fire; and a friendship which he had formed + with that gentleman of splendid powers, but venomous antipathies, John + Randolph of Roanoke, served still more to encourage him in the indulgence + of the natural acerbity of his disposition. More than once, I have seen + him almost foam at the mouth as he denounced some political adversary from + the stump, and when one of these fits of passion seized him, he became as + ungovernable as a wild animal. You can scarcely realize that, now. Sorrow + has chastened him; trouble has softened him; I have nothing to say against + the Judge William Conway of to-day. He is a self-sacrificing patriot, a + gentleman of irreproachable courtesy, and sweetness of character; but, as + a young man, he was a firebrand, and I think the fire is still unquenched + beneath the gray hairs of the man of seventy. + </p> + <p> + “Such were George and William Conway, when I knew them as young men—the + one mild, amiable, the soul of kindness and good-nature; the other proud, + honorable, but subject to fits of stormy passion, which made all avoid him + when the paroxysm was upon him. + </p> + <p> + “From this hasty description, you will understand why George was a greater + favorite with me than his brother. Our friendship was, indeed, as close + and tender as possible, and we passed our majority and approached the age + of twenty-five, without ever having had a moment’s interruption of our + intimacy. + </p> + <p> + “Then, all at once, there appeared upon the stage, that cause of so much + happiness, woe, joy, grief, to mankind—a woman. To make a long story + short, George Conway and myself were so unfortunate as to become attached + to the same young lady, and very soon this sentiment amounted, both on his + part and on my own, to a wild and consuming passion. The young lady—it + is unnecessary to mention her name—was a person of rare beauty, and + mistress of all the wiles which bring young men to the feet of women. She + used these unsparingly, too, for nothing delighted her so much as to + attract admiration and inspire love. Perceiving the effect which her grace + and loveliness had produced upon myself and George, she made every + exertion to increase our infatuation—encouraged first one, then the + other; and, in the end, succeeded in breaking those close ties of + friendship which had bound us from the time when we had played together as + children. + </p> + <p> + “That is a sad confession, colonel, but it is the truth. The bright eyes + and smiles of a girl had terminated a life-long friendship. The mere love + of admiration in the heart of a young girl had interrupted the affection + of years—making George and myself cold and <i>distrait</i> toward + each other. Soon things became still worse. From friends we had become + mere acquaintances—from acquaintances we became strangers, and + finally foes. Busy-bodies whispered, tale-bearers blew the flames. If the + young lady smiled on me at a party where George was present, the good + people around us looked at <i>him</i> with satirical meaning. If she + smiled on George, their eyes were turned toward me, and they giggled and + whispered. + </p> + <p> + “That is all tedious—is it not? An old story, which every country + neighborhood knows. You laugh, perhaps, at hearing it told of A and B,—but + you do not laugh when you are one of the actors. Well, not to lengthen my + history unduly, an open rivalry and enmity at last arose between myself + and poor George. We had been spurred on to hate each other, and narrowly + escaped having an ‘affair’ together—appealing to the pistol as the + arbiter. + </p> + <p> + “It never came to that, however. I saw, ere long, that the young lady had + made up her mind. George was in every way a more attractive and lovable + person than myself; and after drawing me on, encouraging me, and inducing + me to offer her my hand, she turned her back on me, and married George! + </p> + <p> + “Such was the result of the campaign. George had won,—and I am + obliged to say that I hated him cordially. I should never have done so, + from the simple fact of his success. I am not so ignoble as that, my dear + colonel. Bitter as was my disappointment, I could have bowed to the fiat—pardoned + the young lady—and offered my hand to dear George; but there were + our ‘friends,’ the busy-bodies and talebearers. They were unresting in + their exertions—took the whole affair under their personal + supervision, and invented a hundred fables to sting and arouse me. You + would have said that they were bloody minded—the busy-bodies—and + bent on trouble; that their aim was to profoundly enrage me, and cause + bloodshed. George had laughed at me, they said; never had had a moment’s + doubt of the young lady’s sentiments; had often jested about me, and + expressed his pity for my ‘silly presumption;’ had even amused himself and + the young lady, by mimicking my peculiarities, and raising a laugh at my + expense. + </p> + <p> + “These reports were persistently and regularly repeated for my + information: I was baited, and worried, and driven nearly mad by them—finally + a duel nearly resulted; but that last step was not taken. I simply made my + bow to the happy pair, left them without a word, and returned home, + determined to drop the whole matter—but none the less enraged and + embittered. + </p> + <p> + “From that moment George and myself rarely met, and never as friends. I + had been brought to hate him—he knew the fact—and although he + was innocent of all wrong to me, as I know to-day, made no effort to win + my regard again. He was as proud as myself—he said nothing—and + our paths here separated forever. + </p> + <p> + “Such is the necessary introduction, colonel,” said General Davenant, “to + the events which I propose to relate.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0087" id="link2H_4_0087"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. — THE MURDER. + </h2> + <p> + “More than twenty years had passed,” continued General Davenant, “when + that old hatred which had been aroused in me, toward George Conway, + produced bitter fruits. + </p> + <p> + “I was to be taught by a terrible experience that hatred is a deadly sin; + that God punishes it more severely than all other sins, for it is the + poison which turns the whole heart to bitterness. I had indulged it—made + no effort to banish it—nourished it like a snake in the recesses of + my breast, and now God decreed, as a punishment, that the snake should + turn and sting me. + </p> + <p> + “To go back for a moment, however. George had married—a year + afterward I had imitated him. My wife was an angel upon earth—she is + an angel in heaven now—and in comparison with the deep affection + which I felt for her, the ephemeral fancy for the young lady whom my rival + had married, appeared the veriest trifle. William Conway had also married, + and he and George, with their wives, were living at Five Forks. William + was judge of the circuit—George managed the estate—and their + affection for each other, at this period of their mature manhood, was said + to exceed that of their youth. + </p> + <p> + “‘Was said to,’ I say, colonel; for I never saw either of them. All + intercourse between “The Pines” and “Five Forks” had ceased twenty years + before; and George and William Conway were as much strangers to me, as if + we lived in opposite quarters of the globe; for time had not changed—or + rather restored—the <i>entente cordial</i> of the past. On the + contrary, the feud had become chronic—the gulf separating us had + grown deeper. When I met either of the brothers, we exchanged no greetings—passed + without looking at each other—and the ‘family feud’ between the + Davenants and the Conways was not even alluded to; it had become an old + story, and lost its interest. + </p> + <p> + “Such was the condition of things—such the attitude which I occupied + toward the two brothers—when the event, which I am about to relate, + took place. The event in question was tragic and terrible. It came without + warning, to shock the entire surrounding country. One night, on his return + from the county seat, whither he was said to have gone upon some matter of + business, George Conway was murdered, and his body concealed in some + bushes by the roadside. + </p> + <p> + “The body was not discovered until the morning succeeding the murder. His + riderless horse was then seen standing at the door of the stable at Five + Forks, and in great terror. Judge Conway set out rapidly to look for his + brother, who was supposed to have met with some accident. Two or three + neighbors, whom he chanced to meet, joined in the search; the body was + discovered; and, on examination, revealed a deep gash in the region of the + heart, apparently inflicted by a dagger or a knife. + </p> + <p> + “The blow had evidently been mortal—no other hurt was visible. + George Conway seemed to have been waylaid by some unknown person, and + murdered on his return from the court-house. + </p> + <p> + “It was impossible to divine the perpetrator of the crime, or form any + idea of his motive. Upon the person of the murdered man a large sum of + money, which he had received that day, was discovered. He had not been + waylaid, thus, by one designing to rob him; and his peaceful and amiable + character excluded the hypothesis that he had aroused such enmity as could + have led to the bloody deed. The whole affair was a profound mystery—no + clue could be discovered to the perpetrator, or the motive of the crime—and + the body was borne to “Five Forks,” where it was laid in state to await + burial on the next day. + </p> + <p> + “Judge Conway, it was said, had nearly lost his reason at this sudden and + terrible blow. He had loved his brother with extraordinary affection; and + the event struck him like a thunderbolt. His stupor of grief was succeeded + by rage. He fell into one of his paroxysms. With flushed face, bloodshot + eyes, and mouth foaming with a species of fury, he mounted his horse, went + at full speed to the court-house, made inquiries of everybody who had seen + his brother, asked with whom he had last been seen, and left no stone + unturned to ferret out the author of the crime. + </p> + <p> + “Meanwhile, the whole county was discussing, with awe-struck eyes, the + extraordinary event. Who could have perpetrated the act? Who could have + waylaid and murdered a man so universally popular? Who was safe, if such a + state of things could exist in a peaceful community,—if a good + citizen could not ride to see a neighbor, or to the county seat, without + danger of being murdered? + </p> + <p> + “Grief, indignation, horror, were the universal sentiments. Some one must + be discovered upon whom to lay the crime. And that some one was the + individual before you, colonel!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0088" id="link2H_4_0088"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. — THE KNIFE. + </h2> + <p> + “Let me continue, I beg,” continued General Davenant, gloomily. “Your look + of astonishment is quite natural; you feel the indignation of a gentleman + at my words; but allow me to go on with my narrative. + </p> + <p> + “Poor George Conway was buried on the day after the discovery of his body, + and an immense concourse accompanied him to his grave. The funeral + procession was a mile long, for the notoriety attached to the event had + drawn people from far and near; and when the body reached the grave-yard, + the crowd nearly filled the small enclosure. + </p> + <p> + “I was present in my carriage with my wife, and my son Charles yonder, + then a child in arms. You will understand, colonel, that I had not the + heart to be absent. I had long ceased to feel a sentiment of any great + regard for the Conways; but at the intelligence of George’s sudden death, + all my old friendship had revived—the old kindly feeling came back; + pity banished all enmity. I thought of his former love for me, and I + determined to do all that remained in my power to show my sympathy—attend + his funeral among those who mourned him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the body was borne to the grave, the service read, and the remains + of the unfortunate gentleman deposited in their last resting-place. Then + the clods rattled on the coffin, the service ended, and George Conway had + passed away from all eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I looked at his poor wife and brother with tears in my eyes. All my + enmity was gone—my memory went back to the old scenes; at that + instant I could have reached out my arms, and drawn the bereaved brother + to my heart, mingling my tears with his own. + </p> + <p> + “All at once, however, I looked at Judge Conway with astonishment. I had + expected to see him overwhelmed with grief—but as he now raised his + head, and turned in the direction of the spot where I was standing, I saw + that his features were convulsed with wrath. His cheeks were crimson, his + teeth clenched, his eyes injected with blood. Suddenly these bloodshot + eyes met my own—the cheeks a moment before so red, grew pale—and + exclaiming, ‘It is you who murdered my brother!’ he threw himself upon me + with the fury of a wild animal, and his fingers were nearly buried in my + throat. + </p> + <p> + “The assault was so sudden and terrible that I staggered back, and nearly + fell over the grave. + </p> + <p> + “Then regaining my self-possession, I caught Judge Conway by the throat in + turn, hurled him from me, and stood confronting him, pale, panting, my + throat bleeding—and resolved if he attacked me again to put him to + death with the first weapon upon which I could lay my hand. + </p> + <p> + “He was, meanwhile, struggling in the hands of his friends, who, by main + force, held him back. + </p> + <p> + “‘Let me go!’ he shouted, foaming at the mouth with rage—‘that man + murdered my brother! I will take the law into my own hands! he shall not + leave this spot alive! He dares to come here in the presence of the dead + body of George Conway—and he is his murderer!’ + </p> + <p> + “These words were rather howled than uttered. The speaker seemed to have + lost his reason, from pure excess of rage. If his friends had not + restrained him by main force, he would have thrown himself upon me a + second time, when one of us would have lost his life, colonel, for I was + now as violently enraged as himself. + </p> + <p> + “That <i>I</i> should be thus publicly branded with the basest crime! that + the representative of the old and honorable house of the Davenants, should + be thus grossly insulted, his person assailed, his good name torn from him—that + he should be denounced thus in the presence of all as a felon and + murderer! + </p> + <p> + “‘You are insane, sir!’ I at length said, struggling to regain my + coolness. ‘Your grief has affected your brain! I can pardon much in you + today, sir, but beware how you again attempt to degrade me!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Hear him!’ was the hoarse and furious reply of Judge Conway; and + reaching out his thin fingers, a habit he had caught from Mr. Randolph—he + pointed at me where I stood. + </p> + <p> + “‘Hear him! He affects innocence! He is outraged! He is indignant! And yet + he waylaid my brother, whom he has hated for twenty years—he waylaid + him like an assassin, and murdered him! There is the proof!’ + </p> + <p> + “And drawing from his pocket a knife, covered with clotted blood, he threw + it upon the grave before all eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Good God! It was my own!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0089" id="link2H_4_0089"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. — THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. + </h2> + <p> + “At the sight of that terrible object” continued General Davenant, “I + staggered back, and nearly fell. I could not believe my eyes—never + thought of denying the ownership of the fearful witness,—I could + only gaze at it, with a wild horror creeping over me, and then all these + terrible emotions were too much for me. + </p> + <p> + “I took two steps toward the grave, reached out with a shudder to grasp + the knife whose clots of blood seemed to burn themselves into my brain—then + vertigo seized me, and letting my head fall, I fainted. + </p> + <p> + “When I regained my senses, I was in my carriage, supported by the arms of + my wife, and rolling up the avenue to my own house. + </p> + <p> + “Opposite me, in the carriage, little Charley, who, dimly realized + apparently that some trouble had come to me, was crying bitterly, and a + rough personage was endeavoring to quiet his sobbing. + </p> + <p> + “The personage in question was a constable. When I fainted at the grave, + my friends had caught me in their arms—protested with burning + indignation that the charge against me was a base calumny—and the + magistrate who was summoned by Judge Conway to arrest me, had declined to + do more than direct a constable to escort me home, and see that I did not + attempt to escape. + </p> + <p> + “That was kind. I was a murderer, and my proper place a jail. Why should + <i>I</i> be more favored than some poor common man charged with that + crime? Had such a person been confronted with such a charge, supported by + such damning evidence as the bloody knife, would any ceremony have been + observed? ‘To jail!’ all would have cried, ‘No bail for the murderer!’ And + why should the rich Mr. Davenant be treated with more consideration? + </p> + <p> + “On the day after my arrest—I spare you all the harrowing scenes, my + poor wife’s agony, and every thing, colonel—on the day after, I got + into my carriage, and went and demanded to be confined in jail. It was the + first time a Davenant had ever been <i>in jail</i>—but I went + thither without hesitation, if not without a shudder. No sooner had I + taken this step than the whole country seemed to have left their homes to + visit me in my prison. On the evening of the scene at the grave, twenty + persons had called at the ‘Pines,’ to express their sympathy and + indignation at the charge against me. Now, when the iron door of the law + had closed upon me, and I was a real prisoner, the visitors came in + throngs without number. One and all, they treated the charge as the mere + result of Judge Conway’s fury—some laughed at, others denounced it + as an attempt to entrap and destroy me—all were certain that an + investigation would at once demonstrate my innocence, and restore me to + liberty and honor. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I could only thank my friends, and reply that I hoped that such + would be the result. But when they had left me alone, I fell into fits of + the deepest dejection. + </p> + <p> + “What proofs could I give that I was innocent? There was a terrible array + of circumstances, on the contrary, to support the hypothesis of my guilt—much + more than I have mentioned, colonel. I had visited the courthouse on the + same day with poor George Conway, and for the first time in twenty years + had exchanged words with him. And the words were unfriendly. We had both + been in the clerk’s office of the county, when that gentleman asked me + some common-place question—in what year such a person had died, and + his will had been recorded, I think. I replied, mentioning a year. The + clerk shook his head, declaring that it must have been later, and appealed + to poor George Conway, who agreed with him, adding, ‘Mr. Davenant is + certainly in the wrong.’ I was much annoyed that day—made some curt + reply—poor George made a similar rejoinder, and some harsh, almost + insulting words, passed between us. The affair went no further, however. I + left the clerk’s office, and having attended to the business which brought + me, left the court-house about dusk. As I mounted my horse, I saw poor + George Conway riding out of the place. I followed slowly, not wishing to + come up with him, turning into a by-road which led toward my own house—and + knew nothing of the murder until it was bruited abroad on the next day. + </p> + <p> + “That is much like the special pleading of a criminal—is it not, + colonel? If I had really murdered the poor man, would not this be my + method of explaining every thing? You see, I do not deny what several + witnesses could prove; the fact that I quarreled with Conway, came to high + words, uttered insults, exhibited anger, followed him from the court-house + at dusk—I acknowledge all that, but add, that I struck into a + by-road and went home! That sounds suspicious, I assure you, even to + myself, to-day. Imagine the effect it promised to have then, when I was a + man charged with murder—who would naturally try to frame such a + statement as would clear him—and when a large portion of the + community were excited and indignant at the murder. + </p> + <p> + “Such had been the truly unfortunate scene in the clerk’s office,—the + fatality which made me follow the man going to his death, and my known + enmity of long standing, supported the hypothesis of my guilt. There was + another, and even more fatal circumstance still,—the discovery of + the knife with which George Conway had been slain. That knife was my own; + it was one of peculiar shape, with a handle of tortoise-shell, and I had + often used it in presence of my friends and others. A dozen persons could + make oath to it as my property; but it was not needed; the scene at the + grave made that useless. I evidently did not deny the ownership of the + weapon which had been used in the commission of the murder. At the very + sight of it, on the contrary, in the hands of the brother of my victim, I + had turned pale and fainted! + </p> + <p> + “This was the condition of things when the special term of the court, held + expressly to try me, commenced at Dinwiddie.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0090" id="link2H_4_0090"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII. — THE TRIAL. + </h2> + <p> + “A great crowd assembled on the day of the trial. Judge Conway had vacated + the bench, as personally interested, and the judge from a neighboring + circuit had taken his place. + </p> + <p> + “Below the seat of the judge sat the jury. Outside the railing, the + spectators were crowded so closely that it was with difficulty the sheriff + made a passage for my entrance. + </p> + <p> + “To one resolution I had adhered in spite of the remonstrances of all my + friends,—to employ no counsel. In this determination nothing could + shake me. A disdainful pride sustained me, mingled with bitter obstinacy. + If I, the representative of one of the oldest and most honorable families + in the county of Dinwiddie was to be branded as a murderer,—if my + past life, my family and personal character, did not refute the charge,—if + I was to be dragged to death on suspicion, gibbeted as a murderer, because + some felon had stolen my pocket-knife, and committed a crime with it,—then + I would go to my death unmoved. I would disdain to frame explanations; let + the law murder <i>me</i> if it would; no glib counsel should save my life + by technicalities; I would be vindicated by God and my past life, or would + die. + </p> + <p> + “Such was my state of mind, and such the origin of my refusal to employ + counsel. When the court now assigned me counsel, I rose and forbade them + to appear for me. In the midst of a stormy scene, and with the prosecuting + attorney sitting dumb in his chair, resolved to take no part in the trial, + the witnesses appeared upon the stand, and, rather by sufferance than the + judge’s consent, the jury proceeded to interrogate them. + </p> + <p> + “The circumstances which I have detailed to you were all proved in the + clearest manner; the altercation in the clerk’s office on the day of the + murder; my long enmity against him, dating back more than twenty years; + the fact that I had followed him out of the village just at dusk on the + fatal night; and the discovery of my knife in the tall grass by the + roadside near the body. + </p> + <p> + “I had summoned no witnesses, but some appeared of their own accord, and + gave important testimony. Many neighbors testified that my enmity toward + George Conway had almost entirely disappeared in the lapse of years, and + that I had spoken of him, upon more than one occasion, with great + kindness. The clerk of the county described the scene in his office, + stating that the affair had appeared to him a mere interchange of curt + words, without exhibition of the least malice on my part. The most + important witness, however, was a poor man, living in the neighborhood, + who made oath that he had been riding toward the court-house on the + evening of the murder; had passed Mr. Conway, and, riding on farther, came + in sight of me, and he had, before reaching me, seen me turn into the + by-road which led toward my own residence. I could not have committed the + murder, he added, for Mr. Conway had time to pass the spot where his body + was found before I could have ridden back to the highroad and caught up + with him. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, the witness who gave this testimony bore a very + indifferent character, and I could see that more than one of the jurors + suspected that he was perjuring himself. + </p> + <p> + “Another ugly-looking circumstance also intervened to neutralize the + favorable impression thus made. From the irregular mode of proceeding, the + fatal knife had not been exhibited in court. Suddenly, a juror called for + it, and it could nowhere be found! The sheriff swore that he had left it + in the clerk’s office, where he supposed it to be entirely safe. Upon + searching for it, however, in the drawer where he had deposited it, the + weapon was missing. + </p> + <p> + “When that fact was stated, I saw a curious expression pass over the faces + of more than one of the jury. They evidently suspected foul play. + </p> + <p> + “‘Was the door of the office locked?’ asked one of them. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, sir,’ was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “‘Were the windows secured?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘By shutters with bolts.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Are all the bolts on the windows of this building firm?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I think so, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘There is one, that is not!’ said the juror. + </p> + <p> + “And he pointed to a long iron bolt on one of the windows, which bore + evident traces of having been rent from its socket. + </p> + <p> + “The sheriff looked in amazement in the direction indicated. + </p> + <p> + “‘You are right, sir!’ he said; ‘some one has entered the court-house by + breaking open the shutter, and stolen that knife from the clerk’s office, + which is never locked.’ + </p> + <p> + “A meaning silence followed the words. It was not difficult to understand + it. The jury looked at each other, and in their glances I could read this—‘Mr. + Davenant is on trial for his life. He or his friends suborn testimony to + prove an alibi on the night of the murder, and not content with that, they + hire a burglar to enter the court-house and steal the knife which proves + his connection with the deed—that it may not appear in evidence + against him.’ + </p> + <p> + “The evidence closed. I had not uttered a word. I had sworn in my heart + that I would not stir a finger in the matter—but now, stung beyond + endurance, I rose and addressed the jury in impassioned words. ‘Their + verdict,’ I told them, ‘was of little importance if I was to lose the + respect of my fellow-citizens. I had made no effort to shape their + decision, but now on the brink, it might be of a felon’s grave, I would + utter my dying words. I would confine myself to protesting before God, and + on my honor, that I had long since forgiven George Conway the wrongs done + me—that the scene on the day of his murder was the result of + momentary irritability, caused by business annoyances, and not malice—that + I had forgotten it in an hour—returned directly to my own house—and + only heard of the murder on the day after its commission. As to the knife—I + had been suspected if not charged with having had the weapon stolen. Well! + my answer to that was to declare that, to the best of my knowledge and + belief, <i>the murder was committed with my own knife!</i> More than that. + A witness had sworn that he saw me turn into the road to my own residence, + at such a distance behind George Conway that I could not have rejoined him + before he had passed the fatal spot. The witness was mistaken. There was + time. <i>By riding across the angle through the thicket, I could easily + have rejoined him</i>! + </p> + <p> + “‘And now, gentlemen,’ I said, ‘I have done. I have left you no ground to + charge me with suborning testimony—with having the evidence of my + crime stolen—with plotting in darkness, to hide my crime and blind + your eyes in determining my guilt or innocence. That knife was mine, I + repeat. It was possible for me to rejoin Mr. Conway, and do him to death + by a blow with it. Now, retire, gentlemen! Bring in your verdict! Thank + God! no taint of real dishonor will rest upon a Davenant, and I can appear + before my Maker as I stand here to-day—innocent!’ + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes afterward the jury had retired, with every mark of agitation + upon their faces. The great concourse of spectators seemed moved almost + beyond control. + </p> + <p> + “Suddenly the crowd opened, I saw my wife hastening through the space thus + made—a living wall on each side—and in an instant she had + thrown herself into my arms, with a low cry which brought tears to the + roughest faces of the auditory. I placed my arm around her, remonstrated + with her for this ill-advised proceeding, and was trying to soothe her, + when she hastily gave me a letter. A strange man had brought it an hour + before, she said—it was marked ‘In haste—this will save Mr. + Davenant’s life.’ She had mounted her riding horse, and brought it at full + speed in person, without waiting to question the stranger, who had at once + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “I opened the letter—glanced at its contents—at the same + instant the jury made their appearance—and the clerk said:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘We have, sir,’ said the foreman. + </p> + <p> + “‘What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Not guilty!’ + </p> + <p> + “The court-house rang with applause. The crowd rushed toward me to shake + me by the hand and congratulate me. Suddenly, in the midst of the tumult, + I heard the furious words:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Murderer! you have escaped, but I brand you before God and man as the + murderer of my brother!’ + </p> + <p> + “It was Judge Conway, who, mounted upon a bench, with glaring eyes, + foaming lips, teeth clenched, in a wild fury, shook his arm at me, and + denounced me as a convict before God, if not before man.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0091" id="link2H_4_0091"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII. — WHAT THE LETTER CONTAINED. + </h2> + <p> + General Davenant was silent for a moment. The deep voice, so long + resounding in my ears, made the silence oppressive. + </p> + <p> + “Now you know, my dear colonel,” he suddenly added, “why my son can not + form an alliance with a daughter of Judge Conway.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed my head. The whole mystery was patent before me. + </p> + <p> + “The family opposition is mutual,” said General Davenant, with a proud + smile; “he objects because he believes that I murdered his brother—and + I object because he believes it! He insulted me, outraged me—at the + grave, in the court-house, in public, as in private; and I could not think + of beseeching his honor to give his consent to the marriage of his + daughter with the son of an ‘escaped murderer.’” + </p> + <p> + The old soldier uttered these words with gloomy bitterness; but in a + moment he had regained his coolness. + </p> + <p> + “That was the end of the affair,” he said. “I went home, accompanied by a + <i>cortége</i> of friends who seemed never weary of congratulating me; and + on the next day, I wrote a mortal defiance to Judge Conway, which I placed + in the hands of a friend to convey to him. An hour afterward, I had + mounted my horse, ridden rapidly, caught up with this friend on his way to + Five Forks, and had taken from him the challenge, which I tore to pieces. + You will probably comprehend the motive which compelled me to do this. It + was not repugnance to the modern form of single combat, I am sorry to say. + Old as I was, I had still the ancient hallucination on that subject. I did + not then know that duels were mere comedies—child’s play; that one + infantry skirmish results in the shedding of more blood than all the + affairs of a generation. The motive that induced me to withdraw my + challenge, was one which you will probably understand. The pale face of + the dead George Conway had risen up before me—I knew his brother’s + deep love for him—that he regarded me as the dead man’s murderer; + and I no longer writhed under that public insult in the court-house, or, + at least controlled myself. ‘Let him go on his way, poor, stricken heart!’ + I said with deep pity; ‘I forgive him, and will not avenge that affront to + me!’ + </p> + <p> + “Such is my history, colonel. It is sad, you see. I have related it to + explain what has come to your knowledge—the bitter hostility which + Judge Conway indulges toward me, and his frowns at the very name of + Davenant. These events occurred more than ten years ago. During all that + time, he has been laboring under the belief that I am really guilty of his + brother’s blood. See where my ‘high pride’ has conducted me,” said General + Davenant, with a smile of inexpressible melancholy and bitterness. “I was + proud and disdainful on the day of my trial—I would not use the + common weapons of defence—I risked my life by refusing counsel, and + acknowledging the ownership of that knife. Pride, hauteur, a sort of + disdain at refuting a charge of base dishonor—that was my sentiment + then, and I remain as haughty to-day! I am a Davenant—I was found + ‘not guilty’—why go and tell Judge Conway the contents of that + letter received in the court-house?” + </p> + <p> + “The contents of the letter, general?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “What did it contain?—I beg you to tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “The confession of the murderer of George Conway!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0092" id="link2H_4_0092"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV. — “BLOOD.” + </h2> + <p> + General Davenant had scarcely uttered the words which I have just + recorded, when rapid firing was heard in the woods, a quarter of a mile + from his head-quarters; and a moment afterward a courier came at a gallop, + bearing a dispatch. + </p> + <p> + “My horse!” came in the brief tone of command. + </p> + <p> + And General Davenant tore open the dispatch, which he read attentively. + </p> + <p> + “The enemy are advancing to attack me,” he said; “this note was written + ten minutes since. The attack has commenced. Will you go and see it, + colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly.” + </p> + <p> + General Davenant ordered another horse, as my own was useless; we mounted + and rode at full speed through the woods; in five minutes we were at the + scene of action. + </p> + <p> + A heavy assault was in progress. The enemy had massed a large force in + front of the hastily erected earth-works, and were endeavoring, by a + determined charge, to carry them. + </p> + <p> + General Davenant was everywhere amid the fight, the guiding and directing + head, and beside him I saw distinctly in the starlight, the brave figure + of little Charley, who had started from his couch, buckled on a huge + sword, and was now galloping to and fro, cheering on the men as gallantly + as his father. It was an inspiring sight to see that child in his little + braided jacket, with his jaunty cap balanced gallantly on his auburn curls—to + see his rosy cheeks, his smiling lips, and his small hand flourishing that + tremendous sabre, as he galloped gaily amid the fire. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” I said, “there are those who will not believe in <i>blood</i>—or + race!” + </p> + <p> + Fill the space which that dash occupies, my dear reader, with an abrupt + “duck” of the head, as a bullet went through my hat! + </p> + <p> + The charge was repulsed in twenty minutes; but the firing continued + throughout the night. When it ceased, toward daybreak, and I rode back + with General Davenant and Charley, who was as gay as a lark, and + entertained me with reminiscences of Gettysburg, I was completely broken + down with fatigue. Throwing myself upon a bed, in General Davenant’s tent, + I fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + When I opened my eyes the sun was high in the heavens. I looked around for + the general, he was invisible. + </p> + <p> + I rose, and at the door of the tent met Charley, with bright eyes, and + cheeks like roses. + </p> + <p> + “The general has gone to corps head-quarters, colonel, and told me to + present you his compliments, and beg that you will remain to breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + After which formal and somewhat pompous sentence the youthful Charley drew + near, slapped me in a friendly way upon the back, and exclaimed, with + dancing eyes:— + </p> + <p> + “I say, colonel! wasn’t that a jolly old he-fight we had last night?” + </p> + <p> + My reply was a laugh, and a glance of admiration at the gay boy. + </p> + <p> + I declined the invitation of General Davenant, as I had to return. My + horse was brought, and I found his foot much easier. In half an hour I was + on the road to Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0093" id="link2H_4_0093"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV. — THE BLUE SERPENT. + </h2> + <p> + Once back at the “Cedars,” I reflected deeply upon the history which I had + heard from the lips of General Davenant. + </p> + <p> + I shall refrain, however, from recording these reflections. If the reader + will cast his eyes back over the pages of these memoirs, he will perceive + that I have confined myself generally to the simple narration of events—seldom + pausing to offer my own comments upon the scenes passing before me. Were I + to do so, what an enormous volume I should write, and how the reader would + be bored! Now, to bore a reader, is, in my eyes, one of the greatest + crimes of which an author can be guilty. It is the unpardonable sin, + indeed, in a writer. For which reason, and acting upon the theory that a + drama ought to explain itself and be its own commentator, I spare the + worthy reader of these pages all those reflections which I indulged in, + after hearing General Davenant’s singular narrative. + </p> + <p> + “Pride! pride!” I muttered, rising at the end of an hour. “I think I can + understand that—exceptional as is this instance; but I wish I had + heard who was the ‘real murderer’ of George Conway!” + </p> + <p> + Having thus dismissed the subject, I set about drawing up my official + report, and this charmingly common-place employment soon banished from my + mind every more inviting subject! + </p> + <p> + It was nearly ten days after this my first ride into the wilds of + Dinwiddie, before I again set out to look after the cavalry. The end of + October was approaching. Grant had continued to hammer away along his + immense line of earth-works; and day by day, step by step, he had gone on + extending his left in the direction of the Southside railroad. + </p> + <p> + If the reader will keep this in view, he will understand every movement of + the great adversaries. Grant had vainly attempted to carry Lee’s works by + assault, or surprise,—his only hope of success now was to gradually + extend his lines toward the Southside road; seize upon that great war + artery which supplied life-blood to Lee’s army; and thus compel the + Confederate commander to retreat or starve in his trenches. One thing was + plain—that when Grant reached the Southside railroad, Lee was lost, + unless he could mass his army and cut his way through the forces opposed + to him. And this fact was so obvious, the situation was so apparent—that + from the moment when the Weldon road was seized upon by General Grant, + that officer and his great adversary never removed their eyes from the + real point of importance, the true key of the lock—namely the + Southside railroad, on Lee’s right. + </p> + <p> + Elsewhere Grant attacked, but it was to cover some movement, still toward + his left. He assaulted Lee’s works, north of the James—but it was + south of the Appomattox that he was looking. The operations of the fall + and winter, on the lines around Petersburg were a great series of marches + and counter-marches to and fro, suddenly bursting into battles. Grant + massed his army heavily in front of the works in Charles City opposite the + left of Lee; attempted to draw in that direction his adversary’s main + force; then suddenly the blue lines vanished; they were rushed by railroad + toward Petersburg, and Grant hastened to thrust his columns still farther + beyond Lee’s right, in order to turn it and seize the Southside road. + </p> + <p> + That was not the conception of a great soldier, it may be, reader; but it + was ingenious. General Grant was not a man of great military brain—but + he was patient, watchful, and persevering. To defeat Lee, what was wanted + was genius, or obstinacy—Napoleon or Grant. In the long run, + perseverance was going to achieve the results of genius. The tortoise was + going to reach the same goal with the hare. It was a question of time—that + was all. + </p> + <p> + So, throughout October, as throughout September, and August, and July, + General Grant thundered everywhere along his forty miles of earth-works, + but his object was to raise a smoke dense enough to hide the blue columns + moving westward. “Hurrah! we have got Fort Harrison!” exclaimed his + enthusiastic subordinates. Grant would much rather have heard, “We have + got the White Oak road!” Fort Harrison was a strong out-post simply; the + White Oak road was the postern door into the citadel. + </p> + <p> + Gradually moving thus, from the Jerusalem plank road to the Weldon + railroad, from the Weldon railroad to the Squirrel Level road, from the + Squirrel Level road toward the Boydton road, beyond which was the White + Oak road, Grant came, toward the end of October, to the banks of the + Rowanty. As this long blue serpent unfolded its coils and stretched its + threatening head into the Dinwiddie woods, Lee had extended his right to + confront it. The great opponents moved <i>pari passu</i>, each marching in + face of each other. Like two trained and skillful swordsmen, they changed + ground without moving their eyes from each others’ faces—the lunge + was met by the parry; and this seemed destined to go on to infinity. + </p> + <p> + That was the unskilled opinion, however. The civilians thought that—Lee + did not. It was plain that this must end somewhere. Lee’s line would not + bear much further extension. It reached now from a point on the + Williamsburg road, east of Richmond, to Burgess’s Mill, west of + Petersburg. His forty thousand men were strung over forty miles. That made + the line so thin that it would bear little more. Stretched a little + farther still, and it would snap. + </p> + <p> + Lee called in vain for more men. The Government could not send them. He + predicted the result of failure to receive them. They did not come. + </p> + <p> + And Grant continued to move on, and Lee continued to stretch his thin + line, until it began to crack. + </p> + <p> + Such was the situation of affairs at the end of October—when Grant + aimed a heavy blow to cut the line in pieces. The blue serpent raised its + head, and sprung to strike. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0094" id="link2H_4_0094"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI. — THE HOUSE NEAR MONK’S NECK, AND ITS OWNER. + </h2> + <p> + Such was the critical condition of affairs when I again set out to make my + regular tour of inspection of the cavalry. + </p> + <p> + Crossing Hatcher’s Run at Burgess’s Mill, I turned to the left, and soon + found myself riding on between the lofty walls of pine, through which the + roads of Dinwiddie wind like a serpent. + </p> + <p> + When near Monk’s Neck, I determined to stop and feed my horse. I always + carried, strapped behind my saddle, a small bag containing about a feed of + corn for that purpose; and as I generally selected some wayside house + where I could, myself, rest while my horse was feeding, I now looked about + me to discover such. + </p> + <p> + My search was speedily rewarded. Three hundred yards from the road, in a + clump of stunted trees, I saw a small house, which I soon reached. The + surroundings of the establishment were poor and mean beyond expression. + Through the open door I could see that the interior was even more + poverty-stricken than the outside. + </p> + <p> + As I dismounted, a man came to this door. Are you fond of natural history, + reader; and have you ever amused yourself by instituting comparisons + between certain human beings and certain animals—beasts, birds, or + fishes? I have seen men who resembled horses, owls, hawks, sheep,—and + geese. This one resembled the bird called the penguin. Read the + description of the penguins: “Their feet are placed more posteriorly than + in any other birds, and only afford them support by resting on the tarsus, + which is enlarged, like the sole of the foot of a quadruped. The wings are + very small, and are furnished with rudiments of feathers only, resembling + scales. Their bodies are covered with oblong feathers, harsh to the touch, + and closely applied over each other. * * * * * Their motions are slow and + awkward, and from the form of their wings, they can not fly.” + </p> + <p> + The individual before me recalled the penguin—except that he was + excessively lean instead of fat. The feet accorded with the above + description; the arms were short, and hung like wings; the coat of the + worthy was a ragged “cut-away,” which ended in a point behind, like the + tail of a bird; and the movements of the individual were “slow and + awkward” to a degree which forbade the supposition that, under any + circumstances, he could be induced to fly. Add a long, crane-like neck, + two bleared eyes, a mouth stretching from ear to ear, and a nose like the + bill of a duck. You will then have before you the gentleman who bore, as I + soon discovered, the classic name of Mr. Alibi. + </p> + <p> + When the worthy, who had flapped his arms, by way of greeting, and shown + me into his mansion, informed me that such was his name, I knew that the + house at which I now found myself was the place of meeting agreed upon + between Nighthawk and Swartz, at their interview in Richmond. Here, also, + the man and woman, rescued by Swartz on the Nottoway, had been left, on + his way to Petersburg, as the spy had informed us in the Wilderness. + </p> + <p> + “Well, general,” croaked Mr. Alibi, with a smile, and in a nasal voice, + “wha—a—t’s the news?” + </p> + <p> + “I am only a lieutenant-colonel, Mr. Alibi.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, colonel, any thing stirring?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, I think. Any news with you, Mr. Alibi? I have heard of you from + a friend of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! And who mout that be, colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Nighthawk. Have you seen him lately?” + </p> + <p> + “Na—a—a—w,” said Mr. Alibi, with a prolonged drawl + through his nose, and flapping his arms in an uncouth fashion, “I ain’t + seen him for a long spell now.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor Swartz, either?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Alibi looked keenly at me. + </p> + <p> + “Na—a—a—w, nor him nuther, leftenant-colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave out the ‘leftenant,’ my dear Mr. Alibi; and call me ‘colonel’—it + is shorter,” I said, laughing, as I looked at the queer figure. “And so + you have not seen Swartz lately? He made an appointment to meet Nighthawk + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Made an app’intment, did he, leftenant—least ways, colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “With Mr. Nighthawk?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon they are both dead, or they’d ‘a’ kept their app’intment.” + </p> + <p> + “Nighthawk dead!” + </p> + <p> + “He must be, sartain.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, friend Alibi,” said a voice behind him. + </p> + <p> + And Nighthawk, in person, entered the house. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0095" id="link2H_4_0095"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII. — STARVATION. + </h2> + <p> + Nighthawk had appeared, as was his wont, as if he had risen from the + earth. + </p> + <p> + But this circumstance disappeared from my mind at once. I was looking at + his face. It had completely lost its benignant expression; was pale, and + bore marks of great fatigue. Something of the old clerical benignity came + to the eyes as he greeted me cordially; but sitting down in the nearest + chair, as though completely wearied out, he became as dispirited as + before. + </p> + <p> + “And what mout be the matter with you, Mr. Nighthawk?” said Mr. Alibi: + “you look ‘s if the night hags had been a-riding of you with spurs on.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Alibi flapped his wings, stretched out his neck, and seemed about + to cackle. + </p> + <p> + “I am tired, Alibi,” said Nighthawk, briefly, “go to the spring and get me + some fresh water. You needn’t come back in a hurry, as I wish to talk with + Colonel Surry.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Nighthawk rose, and carelessly sat down near the window, through + which he could reconnoitre. + </p> + <p> + The object of this movement was soon evident. Mr. Alibi took a bucket, and + went out as though to seek the spring. When he had gone a few paces, + however, he turned to the right and disappeared behind the house, toward + the opposite window, which was open. + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk rose, went to the door, and caught Mr. Alibi eavesdropping—the + result of which was that the penguin hastily moved off, muttering. In a + minute he had shambled along and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had his figure vanished than Nighthawk turned hastily toward me. + </p> + <p> + “Will you go with me to-night, colonel, on an expedition I intend to + make?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “An expedition, Nighthawk?” + </p> + <p> + “A work of mercy, colonel; let us talk quickly. That man, Alibi, is a spy—for + both sides—and I wish to arrange every thing before he returns.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain, Nighthawk.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, colonel. Do you remember that night in Richmond, when Swartz made + an appointment to meet me at a house near Monk’s Neck?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is the house,—and I expected important results from that + meeting. Unfortunately, I was prevented, by some pickets who arrested me, + from reaching this spot on the appointed day. I was here two days + afterward, however—asked for Swartz—he had not been here—and + as that was the most unaccountable thing in the world to me, I set out to + find him.” + </p> + <p> + “In the enemy’s lines?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, colonel. I had no doubt I would come across him somewhere. So I went + through the country behind the Federal lines; looked everywhere for my + man, have been looking ever since I left you—and at last have found + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “In the upper room of a deserted house, not three miles from this place, + within the enemy’s picket line.” + </p> + <p> + “The upper room of a deserted house?” + </p> + <p> + ‘“Confined—put to starve there, colonel! The work of Darke, and that + she-devil who goes about with him, I am willing to swear, colonel!” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! Is it possible?” I said, “Swartz is shut up and left to + starve?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, colonel—and here is how I know it. I was coming back, worn + out by my long search after Swartz, when in passing this house, I came + suddenly upon a picket of about fifty men. To avoid being seen, I ran, + being on foot, and got behind the house. I had no sooner done so, than I + heard groans from the upper part of it—and as the house was entirely + uninhabited, these sounds excited my curiosity—not to say + astonishment. Well, I determined to, find the origin of them. I crawled + through a broken window—reached the second floor by a dusty + staircase, and went straight toward a door, behind which I heard the + groaning. It was heavily locked, and I could not even shake it. Then I ran + to the partition between the room and the passage—found it made of + boards, between the cracks of which I could see—and looking in, I + saw Swartz! He was sitting on an old broken chair, beside a table with + three legs, and his hand was buried in his hair, as if he was trying to + tear it out. + </p> + <p> + “When I called to him, he started, and his groans stopped. He turned his + head. No sooner had he recognized me than he cried out with joy; and for + some moments he could say nothing but ‘Save me! save me! Nighthawk! They + are starving me to death!’ + </p> + <p> + “I will not lengthen out my story, colonel. I see Alibi coming back. I had + scarcely exchanged ten words with Swartz, when I heard the gallop of a + horse, and running to the window, saw <i>that woman</i> get off. A + second’s reflection told me that she was coming into the house; I knew + that, if discovered, I would be shot or taken prisoner—and I decided + on my course in a minute. I said to Swartz, ‘wait a few hours—I will + go and bring you help.’ I glided through a back window, dropped to the + ground, ran into the bushes—and here I am, colonel, waiting for + night to come, to return and rescue Swartz.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you do so?” + </p> + <p> + “With one companion—to look out while I pick the lock.” + </p> + <p> + “Good—I’ll go with you; and provide for contingencies, too.” + </p> + <p> + I had seen a cavalryman passing along the road in front of the house, and + as Mr. Alibi came in at the same moment, I sent him to hail the wayfarer, + and bring him to the house. As soon as Mr. Alibi had left us on his + errand, I tore a sheet from my note-book, obtained from Nighthawk an exact + description of the locality where Swartz was confined, and writing a note + to Mohun, informed him of our intention. If he could send a squadron of + cavalry to drive in the picket near the house, it would insure the success + of our design, I added. + </p> + <p> + As I finished this note, Mr. Alibi appeared with the cavalryman. He proved + to belong to Mohun’s command. I entrusted the note to him, cautioning him + that it was important, and must reach Mohun promptly—then I looked + at my watch. + </p> + <p> + It was four o’clock. Already the sun was declining toward the wooded + horizon; I looked toward it, and then at Nighthawk, who nodded. + </p> + <p> + “In an hour, colonel,” he said, “and as I am broken down, I will sleep.” + </p> + <p> + With these words, Nighthawk leaned back in his split-bottom chair, covered + his face with his handkerchief, and in ten seconds his long, quiet + breathing showed plainly that he was asleep. + </p> + <p> + “A cur’ous man, leftenant-colonel! a cur’ous man is Mr. Nighthawk!” said + Mr. Alibi. + </p> + <p> + And he flapped his arms, and wriggled about in a manner so extraordinary + that he looked more like a penguin than ever. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0096" id="link2H_4_0096"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVIII. — BIRDS OF PREY. + </h2> + <p> + Night came on. I left my horse at Mr. Alibi’s; set off on foot with + Nighthawk; crossed the Rowanty, separating the opposing pickets, by a + moss-covered log, in a shadowy nook, and was approaching the house in + which Swartz was shut up. + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk moved with the stealthy and gliding step of a wildcat. I could + see the man was a born scout; intended by nature for the calling he had + adopted—secret service. He scarcely uttered a word; when he did, it + was in tones so low that they were lost in the whisper of the wind, amid + the great trailing vines depending from the trees, and I was compelled to + lean my ear close to catch the words. + </p> + <p> + Fifty paces from the bank, a shadowy object on horseback was visible by + the dim light. + </p> + <p> + “The vedette,” murmured Nighthawk, “but he need not see us.” + </p> + <p> + And plunging, or rather gliding into the shadow of the trees, he led the + way without noise, to a point directly in rear of the vedette. + </p> + <p> + A hundred yards farther a fire twinkled; and around this fire were the + dusky figures of men and horses. This was evidently the picket. + </p> + <p> + Three hundred paces to the left, rose a dark object, sombre and lugubrious + against the night, which it exceeded in blackness. Only in the upper + portion of the house, a dim light, like a star, glittered. + </p> + <p> + “Some one is yonder,” came from Nighthawk in a murmur as before, “let us + go there, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + And crouching down until his body nearly reached the earth, my companion + glided, snake-like, toward the house. I imitated him; we passed + unobserved, and almost immediately were behind the house. + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk then rose erect, and said in a whisper:— + </p> + <p> + “I am going to reconnoitre. Remain here, colonel. If I think you can come + up without danger, I will make you a signal through that window.” + </p> + <p> + With these words Nighthawk pointed to an open window about ten feet from + the ground; glided past me through the broken sash of one beside which we + were standing, and disappeared like a shadow. + </p> + <p> + I waited, holding my breath. From the upper portion of the house came the + muffled sound of voices. I was endeavoring to distinguish the words + uttered, when I saw Nighthawk appear at the upper window, and make me a + sign. + </p> + <p> + That sign indicated that I might ascend with a reasonable amount of + safety; and passing without noise through the window, I found myself in a + bare and deserted apartment, with a single shutterless window opposite me. + On the right was an open door. I passed through it, and found myself at + the foot of a rough stairway, occupying half of a narrow passage. + </p> + <p> + Ascending, not without more than one creak, which, I must confess, sent a + tingle through my nerves, I reached the upper landing, found myself in + front of a closed door, and beside this door encountered the warning hand + of Nighthawk. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” he said. + </p> + <p> + And drawing me toward him, he pointed through a crack in the board + partition, which separated the passage from the apartment. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0097" id="link2H_4_0097"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIX. — DARKE’S PAST LIFE. + </h2> + <p> + Leaning on Nighthawk’s shoulder, I placed my eye at the aperture. + </p> + <p> + On a broken chair beside the three-legged table sat Darke, booted, + spurred, and armed with pistol and sabre. In an old rocking-chair, without + arms, the singular woman, who seemed to accompany him everywhere, sat + rocking to and fro, and carelessly tapping with a small whip, the handsome + gray riding-habit which defined her slender and graceful figure. + </p> + <p> + Facing them, on an old bed frame, sat the unfortunate Swartz—but I + would scarcely have recognized him, if I had not known that it was he. His + frame had fallen away almost to nothing. His clothes hung upon him as upon + a wooden pole. His cheeks were pale, sunken; his eyes hollow; his bearing, + cowed, abject, and submissive beyond expression. Let me spare the reader + one horror, however. Hunger was not torturing the unfortunate man at this + moment. Beside him, on the floor, lay a piece of meat, and an unfinished + loaf—thus it was evident that food had been brought to him; and as + some of that food remained uneaten, he must have satisfied his hunger. + </p> + <p> + From Swartz, my glance passed to Darke. This second survey of the worthy + proved to me that he was what is succinctly styled “half-drunk.” But drink + appeared not to have exhilarated him. It seemed even to have made him more + morose. In the eyes and lips of the heavily bearded Hercules could be read + a species of gloomy sarcasm—a something resembling bitter + melancholy. + </p> + <p> + The woman in the gray dress, had never appeared cooler. She rocked to and + fro in her chair with an air of perfect <i>insouciance</i>. + </p> + <p> + The interview had evidently lasted some time before our arrival at the + house; but, as the reader will perceive, we came soon enough to overhear a + somewhat singular revelation. + </p> + <p> + As I reached my position near the door, Darke was speaking to Swartz:— + </p> + <p> + “You ask why you are shut up here to starve,” he said, “and as I have some + time on my hands to-night, I am going to tell you. That might be called + ‘imprudent.’ No! I am talking to a dead man! You see I hold out no false + hopes—you will not leave this house alive probably—I will go + back, and tell you something which will serve to explain the whole.” + </p> + <p> + Darke paused a moment, and then gazed with a strange mixture of gloom and + tenderness upon the gray woman. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you, too, madam,” he said, speaking in a low tone, “may be + ignorant of a part of my history. You know the worst—but not all. + You shall know every thing. Listen; and I beg you will not interrupt me. + About ten years ago, I chanced to be at Dinwiddie Court-House, a few miles + only from this spot; and one day a certain Mr. George Conway visited the + courthouse to receive a considerable sum of money which was to be paid to + him.” + </p> + <p> + At the words “a certain Mr. George Conway,” uttered by the speaker, in a + hoarse and hesitating voice, I very nearly uttered an exclamation. That + name, which General Davenant’s recent narrative had surrounded with so + many gloomy associations, produced a profound effect on me, as it now + escaped from this man’s lips; and had it not been for Nighthawk’s warning + pressure on my arm, I should probably have betrayed our vicinity. + Fortunately I suppressed the rising exclamation; it had attracted no + attention; and Darke went on in the same low tone:— + </p> + <p> + “I was in the clerk’s office of Dinwiddie when the money I refer to was + paid to Mr. Conway. It amounted to about ten thousand dollars, and as I + had at that time no business in the region more important than hanging + around the tavern, and drinking and playing cards—as, besides this, + I was at the end of my resources, having lost my last penny on the night + before, at the card-table—the idea occurred to me that it would not + be a bad plan to ride after Mr. Conway; accost him on the road; represent + my necessities to him, and request a small loan out of his abundant means, + to prevent myself from being deprived of my luxuries—liquor and + cards. Is that a roundabout way of saying I intended to act the + highwayman, perhaps the—murderer—on this occasion? By no + means, madam! What is highway robbery? Is it not the brutal and wanton + robbery of the poor as well as the rich? Well, I was not going to rob + anybody. I was going to request a small loan—and so far from + intending violence, or—murder—,” he uttered that word always + in a hesitating voice—“I swear, I had no such intention. I was + entirely unarmed; upon my whole person there was not one deadly weapon—it + was only by accident that I found, when riding out of the court-house, + that I had a small pen-knife in my pocket. This I had picked up, by pure + accident from the table of the clerk’s office, where some one had laid it + down. I had carelessly commenced paring my nails with it—my + attention was attracted by something else. I finished paring my nails, and + without being aware of what I was doing, put the knife in my pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you may think, perhaps, all this is irrelevant. You are mistaken. + Many things turned on that knife. The devil himself placed it in my grasp + that day!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0098" id="link2H_4_0098"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXX. — STABBED “NOT MURDERED.” + </h2> + <p> + “Well,” Darke continued, “I have told you my design, and now I will inform + you how I carried it out. + </p> + <p> + “I saw Mr. George Conway receive the money—in notes, bank notes, and + gold. That was enough; I knew the road he would take; and going to the + stable of the tavern I saddled my horse, and rode out of the place in a + western direction. When I was out of sight, however, I turned eastward + toward Five Forks, pushed into the woods, and about sunset took my stand + in a piece of timber, on the side of the road which—he—was + coming by.” + </p> + <p> + There was always a marked hesitation when he came to the name of his + victim. He went on more rapidly now. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he came along about dusk. Some one followed him, but I could not + make out who. Another man came on from the direction of Petersburg; passed + me and <i>him</i>; and the other who had followed <i>him</i> out of the + court-house turned into a by-road and disappeared. Then I saw that the + game was in my own hands; I waited, looking at him as he approached me. I + swear I did not intend to harm him. I was half-drunk, but I remember what + I intended. He came on. I rode toward him, demanded the money, he refused. + I threw myself on him, as he struck at me with the butt of his heavy + riding-whip, then we both rolled to the ground, I under! His clutch was on + my throat, I was choking. ‘Help,’ he cried, and I came near crying it, + too! All at once my hand fell upon my pocket, I felt the knife, I drew it + out, opened it, and stabbed him as he was strangling me! + </p> + <p> + “That was the whole! Do you call it a <i>murder</i>? I rose up, as <i>he</i> + fell back. His breast was all bloody; his eyes turned round; he gasped + something, and fell back dead.” + </p> + <p> + The speaker paused and wiped his brow with his huge, muscular hand. His + face was a strange spectacle. The most bitter and terrible emotions of the + human heart were written there as with a pen of fire. + </p> + <p> + “Then I looked at him;” he went on, “I said to myself, ‘this is a murder,’ + foolishly, for he was stabbed, not murdered; and my first thought was to + conceal the body. I dragged it to the roadside, hid it in some bushes, and + thinking I heard some one coming, leaped on my horse, who had stood by + quietly—<i>his</i> had galloped away—and left the cursed spot + as fast as I could go. The money was left on him. I swear I did not touch + a penny of it, and would not have touched it, even if I had not been + interrupted. I had not intended to kill him. It was the result of the + struggle. I took nothing of <i>his</i> away from that place, but I left + something of my own; the knife with which I had struck him! + </p> + <p> + “The devil had put the cursed thing into my hand; and now the devil made + me drop it there, within ten feet of the dead body.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0099" id="link2H_4_0099"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXI. — THE TWO PAPERS. + </h2> + <p> + Darke had spoken in a low, dull, gloomy voice; and something like a + shudder had passed through his frame as he painted, in brief words, the + sombre scene. This emotion now seemed even to grow deeper. Was there good + left in this wild animal? + </p> + <p> + “That knife,” he continued, “was very nearly the means of hanging an + innocent man. It belonged to a gentleman of the neighborhood who had + accidentally laid it on the table of the clerk’s office, a few moments + before I, as accidentally, picked it up—and this gentleman had just + had angry words with—<i>him</i>—about a trifle. What made + things worse was that they had long been enemies—and when <i>he</i> + was found there, dead in the bushes, next day, the owner of the knife + found near the body was arrested as the murderer. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he went to jail, and the trial was coming on soon. The evidence + against him was strong. He was the known enemy of—Mr. Conway. He had + quarrelled with him on that day, and his knife was found by—the body—on + which the money had not been touched. A robber, you see, would have taken + the money; as it was untouched the crime must have been committed by a + personal enemy. Who was that enemy? The prisoner—whose name was + Davenant! + </p> + <p> + “Well, the trial was near. I had gone back to the court-house on <i>that + day</i>, and was still hanging around the place. What was I to do? I had + to determine whether I would let an innocent man be hanged for my crime, + or go to the sheriff and say, ‘release the prisoner—I am the + murderer.’ That was rather more than I was ready for, and I hit on a means + which might serve. The knife was important evidence—the <i>most</i> + important—and I was in the clerk’s office one day, hanging round and + listening, when I saw the sheriff put the knife in a drawer, to have it + ready near court on the day of trial. Well, that night I broke into the + court-house—stole the knife—and waited to see what would occur + on the trial. + </p> + <p> + “As the day drew near I felt like a real murderer, and had the prisoner + all the time before my eyes, hanging on a gallows. I drank harder than + ever, but I could not get that picture out of my mind. I saw worse + pictures than before. So I determined what to do. I sat down, wrote a full + confession of the murder, which I signed; and a friend of mine carried + this to the prisoner’s wife. I had put on it ‘In haste, this will save Mr. + Davenant’s life’—and his wife carried it, at full speed, with her + own hands to the court-house, where she arrived just as the jury had + retired. + </p> + <p> + “The prisoner opened and read it. When he had finished it, he folded it up + and put it in his pocket. As he did so, the jury came in with a verdict of + ‘Not guilty’—and he went out of the court-room accompanied by a + crowd of friends. + </p> + <p> + “So he was cleared, you see—without using the document which I had + written. That was in his pocket; was of no further use; and as it might + become dangerous I entered his house that night, broke open the desk in + which he kept his private papers, and took this one out, reading and + making sure that it was the genuine document, by the light of the moon + which streamed in at the window. + </p> + <p> + “I was still looking at the paper, when a noise behind me attracted my + attention, and turning round I saw—Mr. Davenant. He had heard the + noise I made in breaking open the secretary; put on his dressing-gown; and + coming down, pistol in hand, was on me before I knew it. The few minutes + that followed were rather angry, and noisy. Unexpectedly, Mr. Davenant did + not fire on me. After an interchange of compliments, I put the paper in my + pocket, passed out through the window, and mounting my horse, rode away. + </p> + <p> + “After that I went far, and saw many persons. Among the rest you, madam; + and our matrimonial life has been chequered! + </p> + <p> + “A word to you, now,” he added, turning toward Swartz. “I shut you up here + to starve you to death because you were trusted and have betrayed me. + Listen, and I will tell you how. You are greedy for gold, and this greed + has tempted you to an act which will be your destruction. In Pennsylvania, + one night, just before the battle of Gettysburg, you were at my house, and + stole a paper from madam, who was collecting every thing to hide it from + the enemy. No matter how I know that; I have made the discovery, and you + deny it—refusing to deliver up that paper, which you state you never + had, and consequently have not in your possession. In saying that, you + lied! You stole that paper, and promise yourself that you will sell it for + a large sum of money—you have already been bargaining, and have + tried to finish the business. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that paper is interesting—to madam at least; and she has kept + it with care from the eyes of the very person you would sell it to! Folded + with it was another paper which is no less valuable to me. Thus, you see, + that we are interested; and we will probably be informed in a day from + this time where to find both the documents—as you will then be + starving, and will reveal every thing! + </p> + <p> + “You think me jesting, perhaps—you imagine I will spare you. + Undeceive yourself—your life is a small matter compared with these + two papers. + </p> + <p> + “One is the certificate of madam’s marriage with your very humble servant; + the other the letter which I took from Mr. Davenant’s desk that night, in + which I confess myself the—well! the murderer—of George + Conway!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0100" id="link2H_4_0100"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXII. — A PISTOL-SHOT. + </h2> + <p> + Darke’s deep and gloomy voice ceased to resound, and for a moment the + silence of the apartment was only disturbed by the slight creaking made by + the chair of the woman, as she quietly rocked backward and forward. + </p> + <p> + Swartz had risen to his feet while Darke was uttering his final words. + With clasped hands, and trembling lips, he was about to throw himself upon + his knees;—when suddenly a shot resounded without, a cry was heard, + and then this was succeeded by rapid firing, mingled with hoof-strokes, in + the immediate vicinity of the house. + </p> + <p> + Darke rose to his feet, and in two strides was at the window. + </p> + <p> + “An attack!” he exclaimed. “Can the friends of this carrion be trying to + catch me!” + </p> + <p> + And springing toward the door, he tore it open. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, another thought seemed to come to him. Returning at a bound to + the side of Swartz, he seized him by the throat, dragged him through the + door, and rushed down the steps, still dragging the unfortunate man. + </p> + <p> + As he passed me, I drew my revolver and fired on him, but the ball did not + strike him. Then I saw the woman dart past like a shadow. When Nighthawk + and myself reached the foot of the stairs, she and Darke were already in + the saddle. + </p> + <p> + The collar of Swartz was still in his clutch. He seemed determined to bear + him off at the risk of being himself captured; for a second glance showed + me that a party of Confederate cavalry was rushing headlong toward the + house, led by an officer whom I made out to be Mohun. + </p> + <p> + Darke saw that the small force on picket could not contend with the + attacking party. + </p> + <p> + By the starlight, I could see his face, as he glared over his shoulder at + Mohun, whom he had evidently recognized. An expression of profound hate + was in that glance; a hoarse growl issued from his lips; and I + distinguished the low words addressed to Swartz, whom he was dragging on + beside his horse. + </p> + <p> + “So, you are rescued, you think! You have laid this trap for me, + jailbird!” + </p> + <p> + He drew his pistol as he spoke, and placed it close to the unhappy man’s + temple. I had mine in my hand, and, aiming at Darke, fired. + </p> + <p> + It was too late. The bullet did not strike him; and the report of his own + weapon followed that of mine like an echo. + </p> + <p> + Swartz staggered back, threw up his hands, and uttering a wild cry, fell + at full length upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + The scene which followed was as brief as this tragedy. Mohun charged, at + the head of his men, and drove the picket force before him. In five + minutes the whole party were dispersed, or captured. + </p> + <p> + Darke had escaped with the gray woman, in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + The pursuit did not continue far. The Federal lines were near; and Mohun + soon recalled his men. + </p> + <p> + Grasping me cordially by the hand, he exclaimed:— + </p> + <p> + “Well, Surry! the prisoner! Where is Swartz?” + </p> + <p> + I pointed to the spot where his body lay, and went thither with Mohun. + </p> + <p> + Swartz lay perfectly dead, in a pool of blood. Darke had blown out his + brains. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0101" id="link2H_4_0101"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIII. — PRESTON HAMPTON. + </h2> + <p> + An hour afterward the body of the unfortunate man had been buried, and I + had returned with Mohun and Nighthawk to the opposite bank of the Rowanty. + </p> + <p> + I had never seen Mohun so gloomy. He scarcely uttered a word during the + whole march back; and when I announced my intention to spend the night at + the house of Mr. Alibi, as the long tramp had wearied me out, he scarcely + invited me to his head-quarters, and when I declined, did not urge me. + Something evidently weighed heavily on the mind of Mohun, and a few + moment’s reflection explained the whole to me. + </p> + <p> + He had conversed rapidly and apart with Nighthawk near the lonely house; + and his gloom had dated from that conversation. Nighthawk had evidently + explained every thing: the cause of Swartz’s imprisonment; his statement + in reference to the paper—and now that Swartz was dead, the + hiding-place of the document seemed forever undiscoverable. + </p> + <p> + If the reader does not understand the terrible significance of this fact, + and Mohun’s consequent gloom, I promise that he shall comprehend all + before very long. + </p> + <p> + Mohun returned to his camp, and I remained at the house of Mr. Alibi until + morning, stretched on a lounge, and wrapped in my cape. + </p> + <p> + I awoke about sunrise. As I opened my eyes, quick firing came from the + direction of Burgess’s Mill. The fire speedily became more rapid and + continuous; I hastened to mount my horse; and as I did so, a courier + passed at full gallop. + </p> + <p> + “What news?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “The enemy are advancing in force! They have crossed!” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Near Armstrong’s!” + </p> + <p> + And the courier disappeared, at full speed, in the woods. In a moment I + had abandoned my design of inspecting, and was riding back. + </p> + <p> + “Armstrong’s” was a mill on the Rowanty, near the Boydton road. If the + enemy had crossed there, in force, it was to make a heavy advance toward + the Southside road. + </p> + <p> + I was not mistaken. Reaching the debouchment of the “Quaker road,” I found + the cavalry drawn up in order of battle—a dispatch had been sent to + hurry up the rest—on the lower waters of the Rowanty, and General + Hampton informed me of the situation of affairs. + </p> + <p> + The enemy had advanced in heavy force at sunrise, driven in the pickets, + and, crossing the Rowanty, seized on the Boydton road and the bridge at + Burgess’s Mill. From prisoners taken, it was ascertained that the force + consisted of the Second, Fifth, and part of the Ninth Corps; Grant, Meade, + and Hancock, accompanying the troops in person. + </p> + <p> + That left nothing in doubt. If any remained, it was dispelled by the fact, + stated to me by General Hampton, that the Federal troops “had eight days’ + rations, and were certainly bound for the Southside road."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + I had scarcely received this intelligence from General Hampton, when a + heavy attack was made upon General William H.F. Lee, holding the Quaker + road. + </p> + <p> + From that moment the battle began to rage with determined fury, and the + entire force of cavalry was engaged in an obstinate fight with the + advancing enemy. It was a bitter and savage affair. The men charged; + dismounted and fought behind impromptu breastworks of rails; fell back + only when they were pushed by the weight of the great column rolling + forward; and for hours the whole field was a hurly-burly of dust, smoke, + blood, uproar, carbine shots, musket shots, and the long threatening roar + of cannon. + </p> + <p> + The Stuart horse artillery fought like tigers. The men stuck to their guns + amid a storm of bullets, and vindicated, as they had done before on many + fields, the name of “my pets,” given them by Stuart! Among the officers, + Will Davenant was seen, sitting his horse amid the smoke, as calm as a May + morning; and I shall never forget the smile on the face of this young + bull-dog, when he said:— + </p> + <p> + “I think we can hold our ground, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + And looking over his shoulder, in the direction of Five Forks, he + murmured:— + </p> + <p> + “This is a good place to die, too.” + </p> + <p> + A thundering cheer rose suddenly above the roar of the guns, and the line + of dismounted sharp-shooters behind their rail breastworks opened a more + steady and resolute fire as the enemy appeared to pause. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment young Preston Hampton, a son of the general, and one of + my favorites, from his courage and courtesy, passed by at a gallop, + cheering and encouraging the skirmishers. + </p> + <p> + I spurred after him. Just as I reached him, I saw the arm waving above his + head suddenly drop; his sword escaped from his grasp, and he fell from the + saddle to the ground. + </p> + <p> + In an instant I had dismounted, and with other officers who hastened up, + had raised him from the earth. + </p> + <p> + As we did so, the group, consisting now of no less than seven, attracted + the enemy’s attention; a hot fire was opened on us, and before we could + bear the dying youth in our arms beyond the reach of the fire, four out of + the seven officers were shot.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Fact} + </p> + <p> + The boy was placed in an ambulance, and borne to the rear; but the wound + was fatal, and he soon afterward expired. A staff officer afterward + informed me that General Hampton did not leave his tent for a fortnight—scarcely + replying when he was spoken to, and prostrated by grief. + </p> + <p> + I could understand that. The death of the brave youth sent a pang to my + own heart—and he was only my friend. The great heart of the father + must have been nearly broken. + </p> + <p> + So fell Preston Hampton. Peace to his ashes! No kinder or braver spirit + ever died for his country! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0102" id="link2H_4_0102"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIV. — I AM CAPTURED. + </h2> + <p> + Hour after hour the battle continued to rage; the enemy making resolute + attempts to brush off the cavalry. + </p> + <p> + It was now discovered that Hancock’s corps had crossed the Rowanty, + supported by Crawford’s division, with two corps behind; and as General + Hancock held the bridge at Burgess’s, there seemed little probability that + Lee could cross a force to attack him. + </p> + <p> + But this was done. While the cavalry fought the blue masses with obstinate + courage on the Boydton road, Mahone, that daring soldier, crossed a column + of three brigades over the Rowanty, below Burgess’s; and suddenly the + enemy found themselves attacked in flank and rear. Mahone did not pause. + He advanced straight to the assault; swept every thing before him, and + thrusting his small force in between Hancock and Crawford, tore from the + former four hundred prisoners, three battle-flags, and six pieces of + artillery. + </p> + <p> + The assault had been sudden and almost overwhelming. While hotly engaged + with Hampton in front, the enemy had all at once staggered beneath the + heavy blow dealt on their flank and rear. They turned to strike at this + new foe; and the shock which followed was rude, the onset bloody. + </p> + <p> + Mahone met it with that dash and stubbornness now proverbial in the army; + and, hurling his three brigades against the advancing column, broke + through three lines of battle, and drove them back.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: “In the attack subsequently made by the enemy, General Mahone + broke three lines of battle.”—General Lee’s Dispatch of October 28, + 1864.} + </p> + <p> + Night was near, and the fighting still continued. The enemy seemed both to + give up the ground; and were holding their position obstinately, when a + determined charge from a brigade of Mahone’s drove every thing in its + front. + </p> + <p> + I had been to carry a message for General Hampton, upon whose staff I + served during the battle, and now found myself swept forward by the + brigade charging. + </p> + <p> + In front of them, I recognized General Davenant, on horseback, and sword + in hand, leading the charge. His son Charley was beside him. + </p> + <p> + “We are driving them, colonel!” exclaimed the general, with a proud smile + “and look! yonder are some of their general officers flying from that + house!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, he pointed to three horsemen, riding at full speed from a + house known as Burgess’s; their splendid suit of staff officers indicated + that they were of high rank. + </p> + <p> + In fact, the three horsemen who retired thus hastily, would have proved a + rich prize to us. They were Generals Grant, Meade and Hancock.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Fact.} + </p> + <p> + They made a narrow escape, and the question suggests itself, “What would + have been the result of their capture?” I know not; I only know that + Grant, Meade and Hancock, came near having an interview with General Lee + that night—a peaceful and friendly talk at his head-quarters. + </p> + <p> + I did not think of all this then. The hot charge dragged me. I had come to + participate in it by the mere chance of battle—but this apparent + accident was destined to have very singular results. + </p> + <p> + I had ridden with General Davenant, as his brigade swept forward, and we + were breasting a heavy fire on his front, when a sudden cry of “Cavalry! + look out!” came from our left. + </p> + <p> + General Davenant wheeled his horse; went at full speed, accompanied by his + son and myself, through the bullets, in the direction indicated; and + carried onward by his animal, as I was by my own, rode right into a column + of blue cavalry, advancing to attack our flank. + </p> + <p> + Such was the “chance of battle!” At one moment General Davenant was in + command of a brigade which was driving the enemy, and sweeping every thing + before it. At the next moment he had been carried by the powerful animal + which he bestrode straight into the ranks of the Federal cavalry, hidden + by the woods and approaching darkness—had been surrounded in an + instant, fired upon, and half dragged from his saddle, and captured, + together with his son Charley. + </p> + <p> + What was still more unfortunate to me, personally, was the fact that + having followed the old soldier, I was surrounded, and made a prisoner in + the same manner. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0103" id="link2H_4_0103"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXV. — FACE TO FACE. + </h2> + <p> + We had scarcely time to realize the truly disgusting fact, that we were + captured at the very instant that the enemy were being driven, when the + charge of the Federal cavalry was met by a hail-storm of bullets which + drove them back in disorder. + </p> + <p> + For some moments the woods presented a singular spectacle. Horsemen flying + in wild confusion; riderless animals darting madly toward the rear; the + groans of wounded men tottering in the saddle as they rushed by—all + this made up a wild scene of excitement, and confusion worse confounded. + </p> + <p> + General Davenant, his son, and myself had been ordered to the rear, under + escort; and the old cavalier had turned his horse’s head in that + direction, boiling with rage at his capture, when the repulse ensued, and + the Federal cavalry streamed by us toward the rear. + </p> + <p> + All at once a loud voice was heard shouting in the half darkness:— + </p> + <p> + “Halt! halt! you cursed cowards! Halt! and form column!” + </p> + <p> + The speaker rushed toward us as he spoke, mounted upon a huge black horse, + and I heard the noise made by his sabre, as with the flat of it, he struck + blows upon the brawny shoulders of the fugitives. + </p> + <p> + At his summons, and the blows of his sabre, the men halted, and again fell + into column. Under the shadowy boughs of the woods, and in the gathering + darkness, the long line of horsemen resembled phantoms rather than men. + Near them glimmered some bivouac fires; and the flickering light illumined + their persons, gleamed on their scabbards, and lit up the rough bearded + faces. + </p> + <p> + “Cowardly scoundrels!” exclaimed their leader, in fierce accents, “where + are the prisoners that ran into us?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, colonel. One is a general!” said a man. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see them!” + </p> + <p> + General Davenant struck the spur violently into his horse, and rode close + to the Federal officer, in whom I had recognized Colonel Darke. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, wretch!—look at me!” exclaimed General Davenant, foaming + with rage. “Accursed be the day when I begat a murderer and a renegade!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0104" id="link2H_4_0104"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVI. — THE CURSE. + </h2> + <p> + Darke’s hand unconsciously drew the rein, and man and horse both seemed to + stagger back before the furious old soldier. + </p> + <p> + “General—Davenant!” muttered Darke, turning pale. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, General Davenant!—a gentleman, an honest man; not a traitor + and a murderer!” + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” muttered Darke, “it is my father, truly—and my little + brother! The proud face, the eyes, the mouth—and yet they told me + you were killed.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! ‘Killed!’ Killing is a favorite topic with you!” exclaimed General + Davenant, furiously; “well, kill <i>me</i>, now!—Strike your + dastardly sword, or <i>your knife</i> if you have one, straight into my + breast! Murder me, I say, as you murdered George Conway!—I have a + purse in my pocket, and you can rob me when I am dead. Strike! strike!—but + not with the sword! That is the weapon of a gentleman. Draw your knife, + and stab me in the back—the knife is the weapon of the assassin!” + </p> + <p> + And crossing his arms upon his breast, the fiery old cavalier confronted + his son, with eyes full of bitter wrath and disdain—eyes which I + shall never forget; for their fire burnt them into my memory. + </p> + <p> + Darke did not dare to meet them. I had listened with amazement to those + words, which indicated that the Federal officer was General Davenant’s + son; then this sentiment of astonishment, profound as it was, had yielded + to one of expectation, if I may so express myself. What I expected was a + furious outbreak from the man of fierce and violent passions, thus taunted + and driven to bay by the repeated insults of the general. No outburst + came, however. On the contrary, the Federal officer bowed his head, and + listened in silence, while a mortal pallor diffused itself over his + swarthy face. His gaze was bent upon the ground, and his brows so closely + knit that they extended in an unbroken ridge of black and shaggy hair + above his bloodshot eyes. He sat his horse, in the light of the camp-fire,—a + huge cavalier upon an animal as powerful and forbidding in appearance as + himself,—and for more than a minute after the scornful outburst from + General Davenant, Darke remained silent and motionless, with his eyes + still fixed upon the ground: + </p> + <p> + Then he raised his head, made a sign with his hand to an officer, and + said, briefly:— + </p> + <p> + “Move back with the column—leave these prisoners here.” + </p> + <p> + At the word, the column moved back slowly; the shadowy figures were lost + sight of in the darkness; General Davenant, his son Charles, Darke, and + myself, were left alone beside the camp-fire. + </p> + <p> + Then the Federal officer, with a face over which seemed to pass “the + shadow of unutterable things,” looked first with a long, wistful, absorbed + glance toward the boy Charles, his brother—lastly, toward his + father. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you taunt me?” he said, in a low tone. “Will that result in any + good now? Yes, I committed murder. I intended, if I did not commit, + robbery. I killed—yes, I killed!—with a knife—as a + murderer kills. But I do not wish to kill you—or Charley—or + this officer—or rob you. Keep your life and your money. There is the + road before you, open. Go; you are free!” + </p> + <p> + General Davenant had sat his horse—the boy Charley beside him—listening + in sullen wrath. As Darke ended, the general’s hand went to the hilt of + his sword, and he half drew it, by an instinctive movement, from the + scabbard. “Well!” added the Federal officer, in the same low tone, with a + deeper flush in his cheeks, “draw your sword, sir—strike me if you + think proper. For myself, I am done with murder, and shrink from it, so + that, if my father wishes to kill me, I will open my breast, to give him a + fair opportunity. You see I am not altogether the murderous wretch you + take me for. I am a murderer, it is true, and soiled with every vice—you + see I am frank—but I will not resist, if you plunge your sword into + my heart. Strike! strike! While I am dying I will have time to say the few + words I have to say to you!” + </p> + <p> + General Davenant shuddered with wrath still, but a strange emotion was + mingled with the sentiment now—an emotion which I could not fathom. + Before he could open his lips, however, Darke resumed, in the same tone:— + </p> + <p> + “You hesitate—you are not ready to become my executioner. Well, + listen, and I will utter that which may deprive you of all self-control. + Yes, once more, I killed a man, and killed him for money; but <i>you</i> + made me what I was! You petted, and spoiled, and made me selfish. In + addition, you hated—that man. You had hated him for twenty years. + When I grew up, I found out that. If you did not strike him, you had the + desire to do so—and, like a good son, I shared my ‘father’s loves + and hatreds.’ I heard you speak of—him—harshly; I knew that an + old grudge was between you; what matter if I met this enemy of the family + on the high-road, and, with the dagger at his throat, said: ‘Yield me a + portion of your ill-gotten gains!’ for that money was the proceeds of a + forced sale for cash, by which the father of a family was turned out of + house and home! Well, I did that—and did it under the effect of + drink. I learned the habit at <i>your</i> table; wine was placed in my + hands, in my very childhood, by you; you indulged all my vile selfishness; + made me a miserable, arrogant wretch; I came to hang about the village + tavern, and gamble, and fuddle myself, until I was made worthless! Then, + when one day the devil tempted me, I committed a crime—and that + crime was committed by <i>you</i>! for <i>you</i> cultivated in me the + vile habits which led me on to murder!” + </p> + <p> + Darke’s eyes were gloomy, and full of a strange fire. As he uttered the + last words, he spurred close to his father, tore open his uniform until + his bare breast was visible, and added in accents full of vehement and + sullen passion:— + </p> + <p> + “Strike me! Bury your sword’s point in my heart! I am your son. You are as + noble a gentleman as Brutus was! Kill me, then! I am a murderer: but I am + a Davenant, and no coward!” + </p> + <p> + From the fierce and swollen face, in which the dark eyes burned like + firebrands, my glance passed to the countenance of General Davenant. A + startling change had taken place in the expression of the old cavalier. He + was no longer erect, fiery, defiant. His glance no longer darted scorn and + anger. His chin had fallen upon his breast; his frame drooped; his cheeks, + but now so flushed, were covered with a deep pallor. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he remained silent. The hand which had clutched at the sword + hilt hung listless at his side. All at once his breast heaved, and with a + sound which resembled a groan, he said, in low tones:— + </p> + <p> + “I am punished! Yes, my hatred has brought forth fruit, and the fruit is + bitter! It was I who warped this life, and the tree has grown as I + inclined it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Darke, in his deep voice, “first warped—then, when cut + down, cast off and forgotten!” + </p> + <p> + General Davenant looked at the speaker with bitter melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you charge me with that, do you, sir?” he said, “You do not remember, + then, that I have suffered for you—you do not know, perhaps, that + for ten years I have labored under the imputation of that crime, and have + preserved silence that I might shield your memory—for I thought you + dead! You do not know that I never breathed a syllable of that letter + which you sent to me on the day of my trial—that I have allowed the + world to believe I was saved by a legal technicality! You have not heard, + perhaps, that a daughter of Judge Conway is beloved by your brother, and + that her father rejects with scorn the very idea of forming an alliance + with <i>my</i> son—the son of one whom he regards as the murderer of + his brother! Oh! yes, sir! truly I have cast off and forgotten you and + your memory! I have not wept tears of blood over the crime you committed—over + the dishonor that rested on the name of Davenant! I have not writhed + beneath the cold and scornful eye of Judge Conway and his friends! I have + not seen your brother’s heart breaking for love of that girl; and + suppressed all, concealed every thing, borne the brand on my proud + forehead, and <i>his</i> young life, that <i>your</i> tombstone might at + least not have ‘murderer’ cut on it! And now you taunt me with my faults!—with + my injudicious course toward you when your character was forming. You + sneer and say that I first hated George Conway, and that the son only + inherited the family feud, and struck the enemy of the family! Yes, I + acknowledge those sins; I pray daily to be forgiven for them. I have borne + for ten years this bitter load of dishonor. But there is something more + maddening even than my faults, and the stain on my name—it is to be + taunted to my face, here, with the charge that I struck that blow! that I + made you the criminal, and then threw you off, and drove you to become a + renegade in the ranks of our enemies!” + </p> + <p> + The last words of the speaker were nearly drowned in a heavy fusillade + which issued from the woods close by. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” exclaimed General Davenant, “that is the fire of your hirelings, + sir, directed at the hearts of your brethren! <i>You</i> are leading that + scum against the gentlemen of Virginia! Well join them! Point <i>me</i>, + and my son, and companion out to them! Tear us to pieces with your + bullets! Trample us beneath your hireling heels! That will not prevent me + from branding you again in your dishonored forehead!—from cursing + you as renegade, debauchee, and murderer!” + </p> + <p> + The whistle of bullets mingled with these furious and resounding words; + and then the crackle of footsteps was heard, the undergrowth suddenly + swarmed with figures—a party of Confederates rushed shouting into + the little glade. + </p> + <p> + Darke wheeled not from, but toward them, as though to charge them. The + stern courage of the Davenant blood burned in his cheeks and eyes. Then, + with a harsh and bitter laugh, he turned and pushed his horse close up + beside that of his father. + </p> + <p> + “I would call this meeting and parting strange, if any thing were strange + in this world!” he said, “but nothing astonishes me, or moves me, as of + old! The devil has brought it about! he put a knife in my hands once! + to-night he brings me face to face with you and my boy-brother—and + makes you curse and renounce me! Well, so be it! have your will! + Henceforth I am really lost—my father!” + </p> + <p> + And drawing his pistol, he coolly discharged barrel after barrel in the + faces of the men rushing upon him; wheeled his horse, and dug the spurs + into him; an instant afterward, with his sneering face turned over his + shoulder, he had disappeared in the woods. + </p> + <p> + Two hours afterward I was on my way to Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + The enemy were already falling back from their adventurous attempt to + seize the Southside road. + </p> + <p> + In the morning they had retired across the Rowanty, and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + So ended that heavy blow at Lee’s great war-artery. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + {Illustration: THE FLIGHT} +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0105" id="link2H_4_0105"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK IV. — THE PHANTOMS. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0106" id="link2H_4_0106"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. — RICHMOND BY THE THROAT. + </h2> + <p> + I was again back at the “Cedars,” after the rapid and shifting scenes + which I have endeavored to place before the reader. + </p> + <p> + The tragic incidents befalling the actors in this drama, had most absorbed + my attention; but sitting now in my tent, with the newspapers before me, I + looked at the fight in which I had participated, from the general and + historic point of view. + </p> + <p> + That heavy advance on the Boydton road, beyond Lee’s right, had been + simultaneous with a determined assault on the Confederate left, north of + James River, and on Lee’s centre opposite Petersburg; and now the extracts + from Northern journals clearly indicated that the movement was meant to be + decisive. + </p> + <p> + “I have Richmond by the throat!” General Grant had telegraphed; but there + was good ground to believe that the heavy attack, and the eloquent + dispatch, were both meant to “make capital” for the approaching + Presidential election. + </p> + <p> + These memoirs, my dear reader, are written chiefly to record some + incidents which I witnessed during the war. I have neither time nor space + for political comments. But I laid my hand yesterday, by accident, on an + old number of the <i>Examiner</i> newspaper; and it chanced to contain an + editorial on the fight just described, with some penetrating views on the + “situation” at that time. + </p> + <p> + Shall I quote a paragraph from the yellow old paper? It will be bitter—we + were all bitter in those days! though to-day we are so fraternal and + harmonious. With his trenchant pen, Daniel pierced to the core of the + matter; and the paper may give some idea of the spirit of the times. + </p> + <p> + I could fancy the great satirist sitting in his lonely study, and penning + the lines I shall quote, not without grim smiles at his own mordant humor. + </p> + <p> + Here is the slip I cut out. The old familiar heading may recall those + times to some readers, as clearly as the biting sentences, once read, + perhaps, by the camp-fire. + </p> + <p> + * * * * * DAILY EXAMINER. * * * * * MONDAY MORNING OCT. 31, 1864. * * * * + * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Every day must now bring its brilliant bulletin to the Yankee + nation. That nation does not regard the punctual rising of the sun + as more lawfully due to it than a victory every morning. And those + glorious achievements of SHERIDAN in the Valley were grown cold and + stale, and even plainly hollow and rotten—insomuch that, after + totally annihilating the army of EARLY at least three times, and so + clearing the way to Lynchburg, instead of marching up to Lynchburg + the heroick victor goes whirling down to Winchester. Then the + superb victory obtained on Sunday of last week over PRICE in + Missouri, has taken a certain bogus tint, which causes many to + believe that there was, in fact, no victory and no battle. This + would not do. Something fresh must be had; something electrifying; + above all, something that would set the people to cheering and + firing off salutes about the very day of the election;—something, + too, that could not be plainly contradicted by the events till + after that critical day—then let the contradiction come and + welcome: your true Yankee will only laugh. + + “From this necessity came the great ‘reconnoissance in force’ of + last Thursday on our lines before Richmond and Petersburg; a + ‘reconnoissance’ in very heavy force indeed upon three points of + our front at once both north and south of the James river; so that + it may be very properly considered as three reconnoissances in + force; made with a view of feeling, as it were, LEE’S position; and + the object of the three reconnoissances having been fully + attained—that is, LEE having been felt—they retired. That is the + way in which the transactions of Thursday last are to appear in + STANTON’S bulletin, we may be all quite sure; and this + representation, together with the occupation of a part of the + Boydton plank-road (which road the newspapers can call for a few + days the Southside Road) will cause every city from Boston to + Milwaukee to fire off its inevitable hundred guns. Thus, the + Presidential election will be served, just in the nick of time; for + that emergency it is not the real victory which is wanted, so much + as the jubilation, glorification and cannon salutes. + + “Even when the truth comes to be fully known that this was the + grand pre-election assault itself: the resistless advance on + Richmond which was to lift the Abolitionists into power again upon + a swelling high-tide of glory unutterable—easily repulsed and sent + rolling back with a loss of about six or seven thousand men in + killed, wounded and prisoners; even when this is known, does the + reader imagine that the Yankee nation will be discouraged? Very far + from it. On the contrary it will be easily made to appear that from + these ‘reconnoissances in force,’ an advantage has been gained, + which is to make the next advance a sure and overwhelming success. + For the fact is, that a day was chosen for this mighty movement, + when the wind was southerly, a soft and gentle breeze, which wafted + the odour of the Yankee whiskey-rations to the nostrils of + Confederate soldiers. The Confederates ought to have been taken by + surprise that morning; but the moment they snuffed the tainted + gale, they knew what was to be the morning’s work. Not more + unerring is the instinct which calls the vulture to the + battle-field before a drop of blood is shed; or that which makes + the kites ‘know well the long stern swell, that bids the Romans + close;’ than the sure induction of our army that the Yankees are + coming on, when morn or noon or dewy eve breathes along the whole + line a perfumed savour of the ancient rye. The way in which this + discovery may be improved is plain. It will be felt and understood + throughout the intelligent North, that it gives them at last the + key to Richmond. They will say—Those rebels, to leeward of us, + smell the rising valour of our loyal soldiers: the filling and + emptying of a hundred thousand canteens perfumes the sweet South as + if it had passed over a bed of violets, stealing and giving + odours:—when the wind is southerly it will be said, rebels know a + hawk from a handsaw. Therefore it is but making our next grand + assault on some morning when they are to windward of us—creeping + up, in the lee of LEE, as if he were a stag—and Richmond is ours.” + </pre> + <p> + That is savage, and sounds unfraternal to-day, when peace and good feeling + reign—when the walls of the Virginia capitol re-echo the stately + voices of the conscript fathers of the great commonwealth and mother of + States: conscript fathers bringing their wisdom, mature study, and + experience to the work of still further improving the work of Jefferson, + Mason, and Washington. + </p> + <p> + “I have Richmond by the throat!” General Grant wrote in October, 1864. In + February, 1868, when these lines are written, black hands have got + Virginia by the throat, and she is suffocating; Cuffee grins, Cuffee + gabbles—the groans of the “Old Mother” make him laugh. + </p> + <p> + Messieurs of the great Northwest, she gave you being, and suckled you! Are + you going to see her strangled before your very eyes? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0107" id="link2H_4_0107"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. — NIGHTMARE. + </h2> + <p> + In truth, if not held by the throat, as General Grant announced, Richmond + and all the South in that autumn of 1864, was staggering, suffocating, + reeling to and fro under the immense incubus of all-destroying war. + </p> + <p> + At that time black was the “only wear,” and widows and orphans were crying + in every house throughout the land. Bread and meat had become no longer + necessaries, but luxuries. Whole families of the old aristocracy lived on + crusts, and even by charity. Respectable people in Richmond went to the + “soup-houses.” Men once rich, were penniless, and borrowed to live. + Provisions were incredibly dear. Flour was hundreds of dollars a barrel; + bacon ten dollars a pound; coffee and tea had become unknown almost. Boots + were seven hundred dollars a pair. The poor skinned the dead horses on + battle-fields to make shoes. Horses cost five thousand dollars. Cloth was + two hundred dollars a yard. Sorghum had taken the place of sugar. Salt was + sold by the ounce. Quinine was one dollar a grain. Paper to write upon was + torn from old blank books. The ten or twenty dollars which the soldiers + received for their monthly pay, was about sufficient to buy a sheet, a + pen, and a little ink to write home to their starving families that they + too were starving. + </p> + <p> + In town and country the atmosphere seemed charged with coming ruin. All + things were in confusion. Everywhere something jarred. The executive was + unpopular. The heads of departments were inefficient. The army was unfed. + The finances were mismanaged. In Congress the opposition bitterly + criticised President Davis. The press resounded with fierce diatribes, <i>pro</i> + and <i>con</i>, on all subjects. The <i>Examiner</i> attacked the + government, and denounced the whole administration of affairs. The <i>Sentinel</i> + replied to the attacks, and defended the assailed officials. One could see + nothing that was good. The other could see nothing that was bad. Their + readers adopted their opinions; looking through glasses that were deep + green, or else <i>couleur de rose</i>. But the green glasses outnumbered + the rose-colored more and more every day. + </p> + <p> + Thus, in the streets of the city, and in the shades of the country, all + was turmoil, confusion—a hopeless brooding on the hours that were + coming. War was no longer an affair of the border and outpost. Federal + cavalry scoured the woods, tearing the last mouthful from the poor people. + Federal cannon were thundering in front of the ramparts of the cities. In + the country, the faint-hearted gathered at the court-houses and + cross-roads to comment on the times, and groan. In the cities, cowards + croaked in the market-places. In the country, men were hiding their meat + in garrets and cellars—concealing their corn in pens, lost in the + depths of the woods. In the towns, the forestallers hoarded flour, and + sugar, and salt in their warehouses, to await famine prices. The vultures + of troubled times flapped their wings and croaked joyfully. Extortioners + rolled in their chariots. Hucksters laughed as they counted their gains. + Blockade-runners drank their champagne, jingled their coin, and dodged the + conscript officers. + </p> + <p> + The rich were very rich and insolent. The poor were want-stricken and + despairing. Fathers gazed at their children’s pale faces, and knew not + where to find food for them. Mothers hugged their frail infants to bosoms + drained by famine. Want gnawed at the vitals. Despair had come, like a + black and poisonous mist, to strangle the heart. + </p> + <p> + The soldiers were agonized by maddening letters from their families. Their + fainting loved ones called for help. “Father! come home!” moaned the + children, with gaunt faces, crying for bread. “Husband, come home!” + murmured the pale wife, with her half-dead infant in her arms. And the + mothers—the mothers—ah! the mothers! They did not say, “Come + home!” to their brave boys in the army; they were too proud for that—too + faithful to the end. They did not summon them to come home; they only + knelt down and prayed: “God, end this cruel war! Only give me back my boy! + Do not bereave me of my child! The cause is lost—his blood not + needed! God, pity me and give me back my boy!” + </p> + <p> + So that strange autumn of that strange year, 1864, wore on. The country + was oppressed as by some hideous nightmare; and Government was silent. + </p> + <p> + The army alone, kept heart of hope—Lee’s old soldiers defied the + enemy to the last. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0108" id="link2H_4_0108"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. — LEE’S MISERABLES. + </h2> + <p> + They called themselves “Lee’s Miserables.” + </p> + <p> + That was a grim piece of humor, was it not, reader? And the name had had a + somewhat curious origin. Victor Hugo’s work, <i>Les Misérables</i>, had + been translated and published by a house in Richmond; the soldiers, in the + great dearth of reading matter, had seized upon it; and thus, by a strange + chance the tragic story of the great French writer, had become known to + the soldiers in the trenches. Everywhere, you might see the gaunt figures + in their tattered jackets bending over the dingy pamphlets—“Fantine,” + “Cosette,” or “Marius,” or “St. Denis,”—and the woes of “Jean + Valjean,” the old galley-slave, found an echo in the hearts of these brave + soldiers, immured in the trenches and fettered by duty to their muskets or + their cannon. + </p> + <p> + Singular fortune of a writer! Happy M. Hugo! Your fancies crossed the + ocean, and, transmitted into a new tongue, whiled away the dreary hours of + the old soldiers of Lee, at Petersburg! Thus, that history of “The + Wretched,” was the pabulum of the South in 1864; and as the French title + had been retained on the backs of the pamphlets, the soldiers, little + familiar with the Gallic pronunciation, called the book “Lees Miserables!” + Then another step was taken. It was no longer the book, but themselves + whom they referred to by that name. The old veterans of the army + thenceforth laughed at their miseries, and dubbed themselves grimly “<i>Lee’s</i> + Miserables!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: It is unnecessary to say that this is not a jest or fancy on + the part of Colonel Surrey. It is a statement of fact.—ED.} + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: THE TRENCHES.} + </p> + <p> + The sobriquet was gloomy, and there was something tragic in the employment + of it; but it was applicable. Like most popular terms, it expressed the + exact thought in the mind of every one—coined the situation into a + phrase. Truly, they were “The Wretched,”—the soldiers of the army of + Northern Virginia, in the fall and winter of 1864. They had a quarter of a + pound of rancid “Nassau bacon”—from New England—for daily + rations of meat. The handful of flour, or corn-meal, which they received, + was musty. Coffee and sugar were doled out as a luxury, now and then only; + and the microscopic ration became a jest to those who looked at it. A + little “grease” and cornbread—the grease rancid, and the bread musty—these + were the food of the army. + </p> + <p> + Their clothes, blankets, and shoes were no better—even worse. Only + at long intervals could the Government issue new ones to them. Thus the + army was in tatters. The old clothes hung on the men like scarecrows. + Their gray jackets were in rags, and did not keep out the chilly wind + sweeping over the frozen fields. Their old blankets were in shreds, and + gave them little warmth when they wrapped themselves up in them, shivering + in the long cold nights. The old shoes, patched and yawning, had served in + many a march and battle—and now allowed the naked sole to touch the + hard and frosty ground. + </p> + <p> + Happy the man with a new blanket! Proud the possessor of a whole + roundabout! What millionaire or favorite child of fortune passes yonder—the + owner of an unpatched pair of shoes? + </p> + <p> + Such were the rations and clothing of the army at that epoch;—rancid + grease, musty meal, tattered jackets, and worn-out shoes. And these were + the fortunate ones! Whole divisions often went without bread even, for two + whole days. Thousands had no jackets, no blankets, and no shoes. Gaunt + forms, in ragged old shirts and torn pantaloons only, clutched the musket. + At night they huddled together for warmth by the fire in the trenches. + When they charged, their naked feet left blood-marks on the abatis through + which they went at the enemy. + </p> + <p> + That is not an exaggeration, reader. These facts are of record. + </p> + <p> + And that was a part only. It was not only famine and hardship which they + underwent, but the incessant combats—and mortal tedium—of the + trenches. Ah! the trenches! Those words summed up a whole volume of + suffering. No longer fighting in open field; no longer winter-quarters, + with power to range; no longer freedom, fresh air, healthful movement—the + trenches! + </p> + <p> + Here, cooped up and hampered at every turn, they fought through all those + long months of the dark autumn and winter of 1864. They were no longer + men, but machines loading and firing the musket and the cannon. Burrowing + in their holes, and subterranean covered-ways, they crouched in the + darkness, rose at the sound of coming battle, manned the breastworks, or + trained the cannon—day after day, week after week, month after + month, they were there in the trenches at their grim work; and some fiat + of Destiny seemed to have chained them there to battle forever! At + midnight, as at noon, they were at their posts. In the darkness, dusky + figures could be seen swinging the sponge-staff, swabbing the cannon, + driving home the charge. In the starlight, the moonlight, or the gloom lit + by the red glare, those figures, resembling phantoms, were seen marshalled + behind the breastworks to repel the coming assault. Silence had fled from + the trenches—the crash of musketry and the bellow of artillery had + replaced it. That seemed never to cease. The men were rocked to sleep by + it. They slept on in the dark trenches, though the mortar-shells rose, + described their flaming curves, and, bursting, rained jagged fragments of + iron upon them. And to many that was their last sleep. The iron tore them + in their tattered blankets. They rose gasping, and streaming with blood. + Then they staggered and fell; when you passed by, you saw a something + lying on the ground, covered with the old blanket. It was one of “Lee’s + Miserables,” killed last night by the mortars—and gone to answer, + “Here!” before the Master. + </p> + <p> + The trenches!—ah! the trenches! Were you in them, reader? Thousands + will tell you more of them than I can. There, an historic army was + guarding the capital of an historic nation—the great nation of + Virginia—and how they guarded it! In hunger, and cold, and + nakedness, they guarded it still. In the bright days and the dark, they + stood at their posts unmoved. In the black night-watches as by day—toward + morning, as at evening—they stood, clutching the musket, peering out + into the pitchy darkness; or lay, dozing around the grim cannon, in the + embrasures. Hunger, and cold, and wounds, and the whispering voice of + Despair, had no effect on them. The mortal tedium left them patient. When + you saw the gaunt faces contract, and tears flow, it was because they had + received some letter, saying that their wives and children were starving. + Many could not endure that. It made them forget all. Torn with anguish, + and unable to obtain furloughs for a day even, they went home without + leave—and civilians called them deserters. Could such men be shot—men + who had fought like heroes, and only committed this breach of discipline + that they might feed their starving children? And, after all, it was not + desertion that chiefly reduced Lee’s strength. It was battle which cut + down the army—wounds and exposure which thinned its ranks. But thin + as they were, and ever growing thinner, the old veterans who remained by + the flag of such glorious memories, were as defiant in this dark winter of + 1864, as they had been in the summer days of 1862 and 1863. + </p> + <p> + Army of <i>Northern Virginia</i>!—old soldiers of Lee, who fought + beside your captain until your frames were wasted, and you were truly his + “wretched” ones—you are greater to me in your wretchedness, more + splendid in your rags, than the Old Guard of Napoleon, or the three + hundred of Thermopylae! Neither famine, nor nakedness, nor suffering, + could break your spirit. You were tattered and half-starved; your forms, + were warworn; but you still had faith in Lee, and the great cause which + you bore aloft on the points of your bayonets. You did not shrink in the + last hour the hour of supreme trial. You meant to follow Lee to the last. + If you ever doubted the result, you had resolved, at least, on one thing—to + clutch the musket, to the end, and die in harness! + </p> + <p> + Is that extravagance—and is this picture of the great army of + Northern Virginia overdrawn? Did they or did they not fight to the end? + Answer! Wilderness, Spottsylvania, Cold Harbor, Charles City, every spot + around Petersburg where they closed in death-grapple with the swarming + enemy! Answer! winter of ‘64,—bleak spring of ‘65,—terrible + days of the great retreat when hunted down and driven to bay like wild + animals, they fought from Five Forks to Appomattox Court-House—fought + staggering, and starving, and falling—but defiant to the last! + </p> + <p> + Bearded men were seen crying on the ninth of April, 1865. But it was <i>surrender</i> + which wrung their hearts, and brought tears to the grim faces. + </p> + <p> + Grant’s cannon had only made “Lee’s Miserables” cheer and laugh. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0109" id="link2H_4_0109"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. — THE BLANDFORD RUINS. + </h2> + <p> + These memories are not cheerful. Let us pass to scenes more sunny—and + there were many in that depressing epoch. The cloud was dark—but in + spite of General Grant, the sun would shine sometimes! + </p> + <p> + After reading the <i>Examiner’s</i> comments, I mounted my horse and rode + into Petersburg, where I spent a pleasant hour in conversation with a + friend, Captain Max. Do you laugh still, my dear Max? Health and happiness + attend you and yours, my hearty! + </p> + <p> + As I got into the saddle again, the enemy began a brisk shelling. The + shell skimmed the roofs of the houses, with an unearthly scream; and one + struck a chimney which it hurled down with a tremendous crash. In spite of + all, however, the streets were filled with young women, who continued to + walk quietly, or to trip along laughing and careless, to buy a riband or + some trifle at the stores.{1} That seemed singular then, and seems more + singular to-day. But there is nothing like being accustomed to any thing—and + the shelling had now “lost its interest,” and troubled nobody. + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Real.} + </p> + <p> + “Good!” I said, laughing, “our friends yonder are paying us their respects + to-day. They have dined probably on the tons of turkey sent from New + England, and are amusing themselves shelling us by way of dessert.” + </p> + <p> + And wishing to have a better view of the lines, I rode toward Blandford. + </p> + <p> + Do you remember the ivy-draped ruins of the old “Blandford church,” my + dear reader? This is one of our Virginia antiquities, and is worth seeing. + Around the ruins the large graveyard is full of elegant tombstones. Many + are shattered to-day, however, by the Federal shell, as the spot was near + the breastworks, and in full range of their artillery. In fact it was not + a place to visit in the fall of 1864, unless you were fond of shell and a + stray bullet. I was somewhat surprised, therefore, as I rode into the + enclosure—with a hot skirmish going on a few hundred yards off—to + see a young officer and a maiden sitting on a grass bank, beneath a larch + tree, and conversing in the most careless manner imaginable.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Real.} + </p> + <p> + Who were these calmly indifferent personages? Their backs were turned, and + I could only see that the young lady had a profusion of auburn hair. + Having dismounted, and approached, I made another discovery. The youth was + holding the maiden’s hand, and looking with flushed cheeks into her eyes—while + she hung her head, the ringlets rippling over her cheeks, and played + absently with some wild flowers, which she held between her fingers. + </p> + <p> + The “situation” was plain. “Lovers,” I said to myself; “let me not disturb + the young ones!” + </p> + <p> + And I turned to walk away without attracting their attention. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, however, a shell at that instant screamed over the ruin; + the young girl raised her head with simple curiosity—not a particle + of fear evidently—to watch the course of the missile; and, as the + youth executed the like manoeuvre, they both became aware of my presence + at the same moment. + </p> + <p> + The result was, that a hearty laugh echoed among the tombstones; and that + the youth and maiden rose, hastening rapidly toward me. + </p> + <p> + An instant afterward I was pressing the hand of Katy Dare, whom I had left + near Buckland, and that of Tom Herbert, whom I had not seen since the + fatal day of Yellow Tavern. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0110" id="link2H_4_0110"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. — LES FORTUNÉS. + </h2> + <p> + The auburn ringlets of Katy Dare were as glossy as ever; her blue eyes had + still the charming archness which had made me love her from the first. + Indeed her demeanor toward me had been full of such winning sweetness that + it made me her captive; and I now pressed the little hand, and looked into + the pretty blushing face with the sentiment which I should have + experienced toward some favorite niece. + </p> + <p> + Katy made you feel thus by her artless and warm-hearted smile. How refrain + from loving one whose blue eyes laughed like her lips, and whose glances + said, “I am happier since you came!” + </p> + <p> + And Tom was equally friendly; his face radiant, his appearance + distinguished. He was clad in a new uniform, half covered with gold braid. + His hat was decorated with a magnificent black plume. His cavalry boots, + reaching to the knee, were small, delicate, and of the finest leather. At + a moderate estimation, Tom’s costume must have cost him three thousand + dollars!—Happy Tom! + </p> + <p> + He grasped my hand with a warmth which evidently came straight from the + heart; for he had a heart—that dandy! + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah! old fellow; here you are!” Tom cried, laughing. “You came upon us + as suddenly as if you had descended from heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “Whither you would like to send me back! Am I wrong, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + And I shot a glance of ancient and paternal affection at these two young + things, whose <i>tete-à -tete</i> I had interrupted. + </p> + <p> + Katy blushed beautifully, and then ended by laughing. Tom caressed his + slender mustache, and said:—- + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, I certainly should like to go to heaven—consequently + to send my friends there—but if it is all the same to everybody, I + think I would prefer—hem!—deferring the journey for a brief + period, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Until an angel is ready to go with you!” + </p> + <p> + And I glanced at the angel with the ringlets. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear Surry!” said Tom, smoothing his chin with his hand, “you + really have a genius for repartee which is intolerable, and not to be + endured!” + </p> + <p> + “Let the angel sit in judgment!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you have most ‘damnable iteration!’” + </p> + <p> + “I learned it all from you.” + </p> + <p> + “From me, my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly—see the beauty of repetition in poetry.” + </p> + <p> + And looking at the damsel, I began to repeat— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Katy! Katy! + Don’t marry any other! + You’ll break my heart, and kill me dead, + And then be hanged for murder!” + </pre> + <p> + The amount of blushing, laughter, pouting, good humor, and hilarity + generally, which this poem occasioned, was charming. In a few minutes we + were all seated again on the grassy bank, and Tom had given me a history + of his adventures, which had not been either numerous or remarkable. He + had been assigned to duty on the staff of General Fitzhugh Lee, and it was + delightful to hear his enthusiasm on the subject of that gay and gallant + officer. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you he’s a trump, old fellow,” quoth Tom, with ardor. “He’s as + brave as steel, a first-rate officer, a thorough gentleman, generous, + kind, and as jolly as a lark! Give me Fitz Lee to fight with, or march + with, or hear laugh! He was shot in the Valley, and I have been with him + in Richmond. In spite of his wound, which is a severe one, he is as gay as + the sunshine, and it would put you in good spirits only to go into his + chamber!” + </p> + <p> + “I know General Fitz well, Tom,” I replied, “and you are right about him; + every word you say is true, and more to boot, old fellow. So you are + cruising around now, waiting for your chief to recover?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, my dear Surry.” + </p> + <p> + “And have captured the barque <i>Katy!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” quoth Miss Katy, tossing her head, with a blush and a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Beware of pirates,” I said, “who make threats even in their verses,—and + now tell me, Miss Katy, if you are on a visit to Petersburg? It will give + me true pleasure to come and see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you must!” she said, looking at me with the most fascinating + smile, “for you know you are one of my old friends now, and must not + neglect me. I am at my aunt’s, Mrs. Hall,—uncle brought me a month + ago from Buckland; but in the morning I shall go down to a cousin’s in + Dinwiddie.” + </p> + <p> + “In Dinwiddie, Miss Katy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, near the Rowanty. My cousin, Mr. Dare, has come for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will visit you there.” + </p> + <p> + “Please do. The house is called ‘Disaway’s.’” + </p> + <p> + I bowed, smiling, and turned to Tom Herbert. + </p> + <p> + “When shall I see you again, Tom, and where? Next week—at + Disaway’s?” + </p> + <p> + Tom colored and then laughed. This dandy, you see, was a good boy still. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old fellow,” he replied, “I think it possible I may visit + Dinwiddie. My respected chieftain, General Fitz, is at present reposing on + his couch in Richmond, and I am bearer of bouquets as well as of + dispatches between him and his surgeon. But I am told he is ordered to + Dinwiddie as soon as he is up. The country is a new one; the thought has + occurred to me that any information I can acquire by—hem!—a + topographical survey, would be valuable. You perceive, do you not, my dear + friend? You appreciate my motive?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, Tom. There will probably be a battle near ‘Disaway’s.’” + </p> + <p> + “And I’d better ride over the ground, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll do it!” + </p> + <p> + “Only beware of one thing!” + </p> + <p> + “What, my dear Surry?” asked Tom, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “There is probably a conservatory at Disaway’s.” + </p> + <p> + “A conservatory?” + </p> + <p> + “Like that near Buckland, and the battle might take place <i>there</i>. If + it does—two to one you are routed!” + </p> + <p> + Katy blushed exquisitely, smiled demurely, and burst into laughter. Then + catching my eye she raised her finger, and shook her head with sedate + reproach, looking at Tom. He was laughing. + </p> + <p> + “All right, I’ll look out, Surry!” + </p> + <p> + “Resolve on one thing, Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “That you will never surrender, but be taken in arms!” + </p> + <p> + With which mild and inoffensive joke I shook hands with Tom, informing him + where to find me; made Miss Katy a bow, which she returned with a charming + smile and a little inclination which shook together her ringlets; and then + leaving the young people to themselves, I mounted my horse, and returned + to the Cedars. + </p> + <p> + All the way I was smiling. A charming influence had descended upon me. The + day was brighter, the sunshine gayer, for the sight of the young fellow, + and the pretty little maiden, with her blue eyes, like the skies, and her + ringlets of silken gold! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0111" id="link2H_4_0111"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. — ON THE BANKS OF THE ROWANTY. + </h2> + <p> + When I again set out for the cavalry, a few days after the scene at + Blandford church, the youth and sunshine of those two faces still dwelt in + my memory, and I went along smiling and happy. + </p> + <p> + Not even the scenes on the late battle-field beyond the Rowanty, made my + mood gloomy; and yet these were not gay. Graves were seen everywhere; the + fences were broken down; the houses riddled by balls; and in the trampled + roads and fields negroes were skinning the dead horses, to make shoes of + their hides. On the animals already stripped sat huge turkey-buzzards + feeding. My horse shied as the black vultures rose suddenly on flapping + wings. They only circled around, however, sailing back as I disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Such is war, reader,—a charming panorama of dead bodies and + vultures! + </p> + <p> + Turning into the Quaker road, I went on until I reached the head-quarters + of General William H.F. Lee, opposite Monk’s Neck. Here, under the crest + of a protecting hill, where the pine thickets afforded him shelter from + the wind, that gallant soldier had “set up his rest”—that is to say + a canvass fly, one end of which was closed with a thick-woven screen of + evergreens. My visit was delightful, and I shall always remember it with + pleasure. Where are you to-day, general, and good comrades of the old + staff? You used to laugh as hard as you fought—so your merriment was + immense! Heaven grant that to-day, when the bugles are silent, the sabres + rusting, you are laughing as in the days I remember! + </p> + <p> + Declining the friendly invitation to spend the night, I went on in the + afternoon; and on my way was further enlivened by a gay scene which makes + me smile even to-day. It was in passing General Butler’s headquarters near + the Rowanty. In the woods gleamed his white tents; before them stretched + the level sandy road; a crowd of staff officers and others, with the + general in their midst, were admiring two glossy ponies, led up by two + small urchins, evidently about to run a race on them. + </p> + <p> + Butler—that brave soldier, whom all admired as much as I did—was + limping about, in consequence of a wound received at Fleetwood. In the + excitement of the approaching race he had forgotten his hurt. And soon the + urchins were tossed up on the backs of their little glossy steeds—minus + all but bridle. Then they took their positions about three hundred yards + off; remained an instant abreast and motionless; then a clapping of hands + was heard—it was the signal to start—and the ponies came on + like lightning. + </p> + <p> + The sight was comic beyond expression. The boys clung with their knees, + bending over the floating manes; the little animals darted by; they + disappeared in the woods “amid thunders of applause;” and it was announced + that the roan pony had won. + </p> + <p> + “Trifles,” you say, perhaps, reader; “why don’t our friend, the colonel, + go on with his narrative?” + </p> + <p> + True,—the reproach is just. But these trifles cling so to the + memory! I like to recall them—to review the old scenes—to + paint the “trifles” even, which caught my attention during the great civil + war. This is not a history, friend—only a poor little memoir. I show + you our daily lives, more than the “great events” of history. That is the + way the brave Butler and his South Carolinians amused themselves—and + the figure of this soldier is worth placing amid my group of “paladins.” + He was brave—none was braver; thoroughbred—I never saw a man + more so. His sword had flashed at Fleetwood, and in a hundred other + fights; and it was going to flash to the end. + </p> + <p> + I pushed on after the pony race, and very soon had penetrated the belt of + shadowy pines which clothe the banks of the Rowanty, making of this + country a wilderness as singular almost as that of Spottsylvania. Only + here and there appeared a small house, similar to that of Mr. Alibi’s—all + else was woods, woods, woods! Through the thicket wound the “military + road” of General Hampton; and I soon found that his head-quarters were at + a spot which I had promised myself to visit—“Disaway’s.” + </p> + <p> + Two hours’ ride brought me to the place. Disaway’s was an old mansion, + standing on a hill above the Rowanty, near the “Halifax bridge,” by which + the great road from Petersburg to North Carolina crosses the stream. It + was a building of considerable size, with wings, numerous gables, and a + portico; and was overshadowed by great oaks, beneath which gleamed the + tents of Hampton and his staff. + </p> + <p> + As I rode up the hill, the staff came out to welcome me. I had known these + brave gentlemen well, when with Stuart, and they were good enough, now, to + give me the right hand of fellowship,—to receive me for old times’ + sake, with “distinguished consideration.” The general was as cordial as + his military family—and in ten minutes I was seated and conversing + with him, beneath the great oak. + </p> + <p> + A charming cordiality inspired the words and countenance of the great + soldier. Nearly four years have passed, but I remember still his courteous + smile and friendly accents. + </p> + <p> + All at once, the figure of a young woman appeared in the doorway. At a + glance I recognized the golden ringlets of Katy Dare. She beckoned to me, + smiling; I rose and hastened to greet her; in a moment we were seated upon + the portico, conversing like old friends. + </p> + <p> + There was something fascinating in this child. The little maiden of + eighteen resembled a blossom of the spring. Were I a poet, I should + declare that her azure eyes shone out from her auburn hair like glimpses + of blue sky behind sun-tinted clouds! + </p> + <p> + I do not know how it came about, or how I found myself there, but in a few + moments I was walking with her in the autumn woods, and smiling as I gazed + into the deep blue of her eyes. The pines were sighing above us; beneath + our feet a thick carpet of brown tassels lay; and on the summit of the + evergreens the golden crown of sunset slowly rose, as though the fingers + of some unseen spirit were bearing it away into the night. + </p> + <p> + Katy tripped on, rather than walked—laughing and singing gayly. The + mild air just lifted the golden ringlets of her hair, as she threw back + her beautiful face; her cheeks were rosy with the joy of youth; and from + her smiling lips, as fresh and red as carnations, escaped in sweet and + tender notes, like the carol of an oriole, that gay and warbling song, the + “Bird of Beauty.” + </p> + <p> + Do you remember it, my dear reader? It is old—but so many good + things are old! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Bird of beauty, whose bright plumage + Sparkles with a thousand dyes: + Bright thine eyes, and gay thy carol, + Though stern winter rules the skies!” + </pre> + <p> + Do you say that is not very grand poetry? I protest! friend, I think it + superior to the <i>chef d’oeuvres</i> of the masters? You do not think so? + Ah! that is because you did not hear it sung in the autumn forest that + evening—see the ringlets of Katy Dare floating back from the rosy + cheeks, as the notes escaped from her smiling lips, and rang clearly in + the golden sunset. Do you laugh at my enthusiasm? Well, I am going to + increase your mirth. To the “Bird of Beauty” succeeded a song which I + never heard before, and have never heard since. Thus it is a lost pearl I + rescue, in repeating some lines. What Katy sang was this:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Come under, some one, and give her a kiss! + My honey, my love, my handsome dove! + My heart’s been a-weeping, + This long time for you! + + “I’ll hang you, I’ll drown you, + My honey, my love, my handsome dove! + My heart’s been a-weeping, + This long time for you!” + </pre> + <p> + That was the odd, original, mysterious, incomprehensible poem, which Katy + Dare carolled in the sunset that evening. It may seem stupid to some—to + me the words and the air are charming, for I heard them from the sweetest + lips in the world. Indeed there was something so pure and childlike about + the young girl, that I bowed before her. Her presence made me better—banished + all discordant emotions. All about her was delicate and tender, and pure. + Like her “bird of bright plumage” she seemed to have flitted here to utter + her carol, after which she would open her wings and disappear! + </p> + <p> + Katy ran on, in the pauses of her singing, with a hundred little jests, + interspersed with her sweet childlike laughter, and I was more and more + enchanted—when all at once I saw her turn her head over her + shoulder. A bright flush came to her cheeks as she did so; her songs and + laughter ceased; then—a step behind us! + </p> + <p> + I looked back, and found the cause of her sudden “dignity,” her demure + silence. The unfortunate Colonel Surry had quite disappeared from the + maiden’s mind. + </p> + <p> + Coming on rapidly, with springy tread, I saw—Tom Herbert! Tom + Herbert, radiant; Tom Herbert, the picture of happiness; Tom Herbert, + singing in his gay and ringing voice:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Katy! Katy! + Don’t marry any other! + You’ll break my heart and kill me dead, + And you’ll be hung for murder!” + </pre> + <p> + Wretch!—I could cheerfully have strangled him! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0112" id="link2H_4_0112"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. — THE STUART HORSE ARTILLERY. + </h2> + <p> + An hour afterward I was at the camp of the Stuart horse artillery. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes after greeting Tom, who had sought Katy, at “Disaway’s”—been + directed to the woods—and there speedily joined us—I left the + young ones together, and made my way back to the mansion. There are few + things, my dear reader, more disagreeable than—just when you are + growing poetical—when blue eyes have excited your romantic feelings—when + your heart has begun to glow—when you think “I am the cause of all + this happiness, and gayety!”—there are few things I say—but + why say it? In thirty seconds the rosy-faced youngster Tom, had driven the + antique and battered Surry quite from the mind of the Bird of Beauty. That + discomfited individual, therefore, took his way back sadly to Disaway’s, + leaving the children his blessing; declined the cordial invitations to + spend the night, mounted his horse, and rode to find Will Davenant, at the + horse artillery. + </p> + <p> + Their camp was in the edge of a wood, near the banks of the Rowanty; and + having exchanged greetings with my old comrades of the various batteries, + and the gallant Colonel Chew, their chieftain, I repaired to Will + Davenant’s head-quarters. + </p> + <p> + These consisted of a breadth of canvass, stretched beneath a tree in the + field—in front of which burned a fire. + </p> + <p> + I had come to talk with Will, but our conversation was obliged to be + deferred. The brave boys of the horse artillery, officers and men, + gathered round to hear the news from Petersburg; and it was a rare + pleasure to me to see again the old familiar faces. Around me, in light of + the camp-fire, were grouped the tigers who had fought with Pelham, in the + old battles of Stuart. Here were the heroes of a hundred combats; the men + who had held their ground desperately in the most desperate encounters—the + bulldogs who had showed their teeth and sprung to the death-grapple at + Cold Harbor, Manassas, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, + Fleetwood, Gettysburg, in the Wilderness, at Trevillian’s, at Sappony, in + a thousand bitter conflicts with the cavalry. Scarred faces, limping + bodies, the one-armed, the one-legged,—these I saw around me; the + frames slashed and mutilated, but the eyes flashing and full of fight, as + in the days when Pelham thundered, loosing his war-hounds on the enemy. I + had seen brave commands, in these long years of combat—had touched + the hands of heroic men, whose souls fear never entered—but I never + saw braver fighters than the horse artillery—soldiers more reckless + than Pelham’s bloodhounds. They went to battle laughing. There was + something of the tiger in them. They were of every nation nearly—Frenchmen, + Irishmen, Italians,—but one sentiment seemed to inspire them—hatred + of our friends over the way. From the moment in 1862, when at Barbee’s + they raised the loud resounding <i>Marseillaise</i>, while fighting the + enemy in front and rear, to this fall of 1864, when they had strewed a + hundred battle-fields with dead men and horses, these “swarthy old hounds” + of the horse artillery had vindicated their claims to the admiration of + Stuart;—in the thunder of their guns, the dead chieftain had seemed + still to hurl his defiance at the invaders of Virginia. + </p> + <p> + Looking around me, I missed many of the old faces, sleeping now beneath + the sod. But Dominic, Antonio, and Rossini were still there—those + members of the old “Napoleon Detachment” of Pelham’s old battery; there + still was Guillemot, the erect, military-looking Frenchman,—Guillemot, + with his hand raised to his cap, saluting me with the profoundest respect; + these were the faces I had seen a hundred times, and never any thing but + gay and full of fight. + </p> + <p> + Doubtless they remembered me, and thought of Stuart, as others had done, + at seeing me. They gave me a soldier’s welcome; soon, from the group + around the camp-fire rose a song. Another followed, then another, in the + richest tenor; and the forests of Dinwiddie rang with the deep voices, + rising clear and sonorous in the moonlight night. + </p> + <p> + They were old songs of Ashby and Stuart; unpublished ditties of the + struggle, which the winds have borne away into the night of the past, and + which now live only in memory. There was one of Ashby, commencing,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “See him enter on the valley,” + </pre> + <p> + which wound up with the words,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And they cried, ‘O God they’ve shot him! + Ashby is no more!’ + Strike, freemen, for your country, + Sheathe your swords no more! + While remains in arms a Yankee + On Virginia’s shore!” + </pre> + <p> + The air was sad and plaintive. The song rose, and wailed, and died away + like the sigh of the wind in the trees, the murmuring airs of evening in + the brambles and thickets of the Rowanty. The singers had fought under + Ashby, and in their rude and plaintive song they uttered their regrets. + </p> + <p> + Then the music changed its character, and the stirring replaced the sad. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “If you want to have a good time, + J’ine the cavalry!” + </pre> + <p> + came in grand, uproarious strains; and this was succeeded by the jubilant— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Farewell, forever to the star-spangled banner, + No longer shall she wave o’er the land of the free; + But we’ll unfurl to the broad breeze of heaven, + The thirteen bright stars round the Palmetto tree!” + </pre> + <p> + At that song—and those words, “the thirteen bright stars round the + Palmetto tree!”—you might have seen the eyes of the South + Carolinians flash. Many other ditties followed, filling the moonlight + night with song—“The Bonnie Blue Flag,” “Katy Wells,” and “The + Louisiana Colors.” This last was never printed. Here are a few of the gay + verses of the “Irish Lad from Dixie:”— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My sweetheart’s name is Kathleen, + For her I’ll do or die; + She has a striped straw mattress, + A shanty, pig, and sty. + Her cheeks are bright and beautiful, + Her hair is dark and curly, + She sent me with the secesh boys + To fight with General Early. + + “She made our flag with her own hands, + My Kathleen fair and clever, + And twined its staff with shamrock green, + Old Ireland’s pride forever! + She gave it into our trust, + Among our weeping mothers;— + ‘Remember, Irish men!’ she said, + ‘You bear the Red Cross colors!’ + + “She told me I must never run; + The Rebel boys were brothers;— + To stand forever by our flag, + The Louisiana colors! + And then she said, ‘If you desert, + You’ll go to the Old Baily!’ + Says I, ‘My love, when I can’t shoot, + I’ll use my old shillalah!’ + + “And many a bloody charge we made, + Nor mind the battle’s blaze; + God gave to us a hero bold, + Our bonny Harry Hays! + And on the heights of Gettysburg, + At twilight first was seen, + The stars of Louisiana bright, + And Katy’s shamrock green. + + “And oh! if I get home again, + I swear I’ll never leave her; + I hope the straw mattress will keep, + The pig won’t have the fever! + For then, you know, I’ll marry Kate, + And never think of others. + Hurrah, then, for the shamrock green, + And the Louisiana colors!” + </pre> + <p> + It was nearly midnight before the men separated, repairing to their tents. + Their songs had charmed me, and made the long hours flit by like birds. + Where are you, brave singers, in this year ‘68? I know not—you are + all scattered. Your guns have ceased their thunder, your voices sound no + more. But I think you sometimes remember, as you muse, in these dull + years, those gay moonlight nights on the banks of the Rowanty. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0113" id="link2H_4_0113"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. — “CHARGE! STUART! PAY OFF ASHBY’S SCORE!” + </h2> + <p> + These memories are beguiling, and while they possess me, my drama does not + march. + </p> + <p> + But you have not been wearied, I hope, my dear reader, by this little + pencil sketch of the brave horse artillerymen. I found myself among them; + the moonlight shone; the voices sang; and I have paused to look and listen + again in memory. + </p> + <p> + These scenes, however, can not possess for you, the attraction they do for + me. To proceed with my narrative. I shall pass over my long conversation + with Will Davenant, whose bed I shared. I had promised his father to + reveal nothing of the events which I had so strangely discovered—and + was then only able to give the young man vague assurances of a coming + change for the better in his affair with Miss Conway. He thanked me, + blushing, and trying to smile—and then we fell asleep beside each + other. + </p> + <p> + Just at daylight I was suddenly aroused. The jarring notes of a bugle were + ringing through the woods. I extended my arm in the darkness, and found + that Will Davenant was not beside me. + </p> + <p> + What had happened? I rose quickly, and throwing my cape over my shoulders, + went out of the tent. + </p> + <p> + The horse artillery was already hitched up, and in motion. The setting + moon illumined the grim gun-barrels, caissons, and heavy horses, moving + with rattling chains. Behind came the men on horseback, laughing and ready + for combat. + </p> + <p> + As I was gazing at this warlike scene so suddenly evoked, Will Davenant + rode up and pointed to my horse, which was ready saddled, and attached to + a bough of the great tree. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I wouldn’t wake you, colonel,” he said, with a smile, “but let + you sleep to the last moment. The enemy are advancing, and we are going to + meet them.” + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely spoken, when a rapid firing was heard two or three miles + in front, and a loud cheer rose from the artillerymen. In a moment the + guns were rushing on at a gallop, and, as I rode beside them, I saw a + crimson glare shoot up above the woods, in the direction of the Weldon + railroad. The firing had meanwhile grown heavier, and the guns were rushed + onward. Will Davenant’s whole appearance had completely changed. The + youth, so retiring in camp, so cool in a hot fight, seemed burnt up with + impatience, at the delay caused by the terrible roads. His voice had + become hoarse and imperious; he was everywhere urging on the drivers; when + the horses stalled in the fathomless mudholes, he would strike the + animals, in a sort of rage, with the flat of his sabre, forcing them with + a leap which made the traces crack, to drag the piece out of the hole, and + onward. A glance told me, then, what was the secret of this mere boy’s + splendid efficiency. Under the shy, blushing face, was the passion and + will of the born soldier—the beardless boy had become the master + mind, and drove on every thing by his stern will. + </p> + <p> + In spite of every exertion to overcome the obstacles in the roads, it was + nearly sunrise before we reached open ground. Then we emerged upon the + upland, near “Disaway’s,” and saw a picturesque spectacle. From the hill, + we could make out every thing. A hot cavalry fight was going on beneath + us. The enemy had evidently crossed the Rowanty lower down; and driving in + the pickets, had passed forward to the railroad. + </p> + <p> + The guns were rushed toward the spot, unlimbered on a rising ground, and + their thunder rose suddenly above the forests. Shell after shell burst + amid the enemy, breaking their ranks, and driving them back—and by + the time I had galloped through a belt of woods to the scene of the fight, + they lost heart, retreated rapidly, and disappeared, driven across the + Rowanty again, with the Confederates pursuing them so hotly, that many of + the gray cavalry punched them in the back with their empty carbines.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Fact.} + </p> + <p> + Their object in crossing had been to burn a small mill; and in this they + had succeeded, after which they retired as soon as possible to their “own + side.” Some queer scenes had accompanied this “tremendous military + movement.” In a house near the mill, resided some ladies; and we found + them justly indignant at the course of the enemy. The Federal officers—general + officers—had ordered the house-furniture to be piled up, the + carriage to be drawn into the pile, and then shavings were heaped around, + and the whole set on fire, amid shouts, cheers, and firing. The lady of + the mansion remonstrated bitterly, but received little satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “I have no time to listen to women!”{1} said the Federal general, rudely. + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “It is not <i>time</i> that you want, sir!” returned the lady, with great + hauteur, “it is <i>politeness</i>!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Her words.} + </p> + <p> + This greatly enraged the person whom she addressed, and he became furious, + when the lady added that all the horses had been sent away. At that moment + an officer near him said:— + </p> + <p> + “General if you are going to burn the premises, you had better commence, + as the rebs are pursuing us.” + </p> + <p> + “Order it to be done at once!” was the gruff reply. + </p> + <p> + And the mill was fired, in the midst of a great uproar, with which mingled + shouts of, “The Rebels are coming! The Rebels are coming!” + </p> + <p> + Soon they came, a hot fight followed, and during this fight a young woman + watched it, holding her little brother by the hand near the burning mill. + I had afterward the honor of making her acquaintance, and she told me that + throughout the firing she found herself repeating over and over, + unconsciously, the lines of the song,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Charge! Stuart! pay off Ashby’s score, + In Stonewall Jackson’s way."{1} +</pre> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Fact.} + </p> + <p> + The enemy had thus effected their object, and retreated hotly pursued. I + followed toward the lower Rowanty, and had the pleasure of seeing them + hurried over. So ended this immense military movement. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0114" id="link2H_4_0114"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. — MOHUN,—HIS THIRD PHASE. + </h2> + <p> + I was about to turn my horse and ride back from the stream, across which + the enemy had disappeared, when all at once Mohun, who had led the + pursuit, rode up to me, and we exchanged a cordial greeting. + </p> + <p> + “Well, this little affair is over, my dear Surry,” he said; “have you any + thing to occupy you for two or three hours?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing; entirely at your service, Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wish you to accompany me on a private expedition. Will you follow + me blindfold?” + </p> + <p> + “Confidingly.” + </p> + <p> + And I rode on beside Mohun, who had struck into a path along the banks of + the Rowanty, leading back in the direction of Halifax bridge. + </p> + <p> + As we rode on, I looked attentively at him. I scarcely recognized, in the + personage beside me, the Mohun of the past. His gloom so profound on that + night when I parted with him, after the expedition to the lonely house + beyond Monk’s Neck, had entirely disappeared; and I saw in him as few + traces of the days on the Rappahannock, in Pennsylvania, and the + Wilderness. These progressive steps in the development of Mohun’s + character may be indicated by styling them the first, second, and third + phases of the individual. He had entered now upon the third phase, and I + compared him, curiously with his former self. + </p> + <p> + On the Rappahannock, when I saw him first, Mohun had been cynical, bitter, + full of gloomy misanthropy. Something seemed to have hardened him, and + made him hate his species. In the bloom of early manhood, when his life + was yet in the flower, and should have prompted him to all kind and sweet + emotions, he was a stranger to all—to charity, good-will, + friendship, all that makes life endurable. The tree was young and lusty; + the spring was not over; freshness and verdure should have clothed it; and + yet it appeared to have been blasted. What had dried up its sap, I asked + myself—withering and destroying it? What thunder-bolt had struck + this sturdy young oak? I could not answer—but from the first moment + of our acquaintance, Mohun became for me a problem. + </p> + <p> + Then the second phase presented itself. When I met him in the Wilderness, + in May, 1864, a great change had come over him. He was no longer bitter + and cynical. The cloud had plainly swept away, leaving the skies of his + life brighter. Gayety had succeeded gloom. The rollicking enjoyment of the + true cavalryman had replaced the recklessness of the man-hater. Again I + looked at him with attention—for his courage had made me admire him, + and his hidden grief had aroused my sympathy. A great weight had plainly + been lifted from his shoulders; he breathed freer; the sap long dried up + had begun to flow again; and the buds told that the leaves of youth and + hope were about to reappear. What was the meaning of that? + </p> + <p> + Now the third phase of the man had come to excite in me more surprise and + interest than the former ones. This time the change was complete. Mohun + seemed no longer himself. Was the man riding beside me the old Mohun of + 1863? Where was the gloomy misanthropy—where the rollicking humor? + They had quite disappeared. Mohun’s glance was gentle and his countenance + filled with a charming modesty and sweetness. His voice, once so cold, and + then so hilarious, had grown calm, low, measured, almost soft. His smile + was exquisitely cordial; his glance full of earnestness and sweetness. The + heaven-born spirit of kindness—that balm for all the wounds of human + existence—shone in his eyes, on his lips, in every accent of his + voice. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Mohun had been reckless, defiant, unhappy, or wildly gay. General + Mohun was calm, quietly happy it seemed. You would have said of him, + formerly, “This is a man who fights from hatred of his enemies, or the + exuberant life in him.” Now you would have said, “This is a patriot who + fights from principle, and is worthy to die in a great cause.” + </p> + <p> + What had worked this change? I asked myself once more. Was it love? Or was + it the conviction which the Almighty sends to the most hardened, that life + is not made to indulge hatred, but to love and perform our duty in? + </p> + <p> + I knew not; but there was the phenomenon before me. Mohun was certainly a + new man, and looked on life and the world around him with a gentleness and + kindness of which I had believed him incapable. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to take you to see a somewhat singular character,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “And a very strange one, I promise you, my dear Surry.” + </p> + <p> + “Lead on, I’ll follow thee!” + </p> + <p> + “Good! and I declare to you, I think Shakespeare would have examined this + human being with attention.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a phenomenon, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “A witch?” + </p> + <p> + “No, an epileptic; at least I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! And where does she live?” + </p> + <p> + “On the Halifax road, some miles from the Rowanty.” + </p> + <p> + “In the lines of the enemy, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Something like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t disturb yourself about that, Surry. I have sent out a scouting + party who are clearing the country. Their pickets are back to Reams’s by + this time, and there is little danger.” + </p> + <p> + “At all events, we’ll share any, Mohun. Forward!” + </p> + <p> + And we pushed on to the Halifax bridge, where, as Mohun expected, there + was no Federal picket. + </p> + <p> + The bridge—a long rough affair—had been half destroyed by + General Hampton; but we forded near it, pushed our horses through the + swamp, amid the heavy tree trunks, felled to form an abatis, and gaining + the opposite bank of the Rowanty, rode on rapidly in the direction of + Petersburg, that is to say, toward the rear of the Federal army. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0115" id="link2H_4_0115"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. — AMANDA. + </h2> + <p> + Half an hour’s ride through the swampy low grounds rising to gentle + uplands, and beneath the festoons of the great vines trailing from tree to + tree, brought us in front of a small house, half buried in a clump of + bushes, like a hare’s nest amid brambles. + </p> + <p> + “We have arrived!” said Mohun, leading the way to the cabin, which we soon + reached. + </p> + <p> + Throwing his bridle over a bough near the low fence, Mohun approached the + door on foot, I following, and when close to the door, he gave a low + knock. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” said a cheerful and smiling voice. + </p> + <p> + And Mohun opened the door, through which we passed into a small and very + neat apartment containing a table, some chairs, a wide fireplace, in which + some sticks were burning, a number of cheap engravings of religious + scenes, framed and hanging on the wall, and a low bed, upon which lay a + woman fully dressed. + </p> + <p> + She was apparently about thirty-five, and her appearance was exceedingly + curious. Her figure was slender and of medium height; her complexion that + of a Moorish or oriental woman, rather than that of the quadroon, which + she appeared to be; her hair black, waving, and abundant; her eyes as dark + and sparkling as burnished ebony; and her teeth of dazzling whiteness. Her + dress was neat, and of bright colors. Around her neck she wore a very odd + necklace, which seemed made of carved bone; and her slender fingers were + decorated with a number of rings.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: “I have endeavored to give an exact description of this + singular woman.” Colonel Surry said to me when he read this passage to me: + “She will probably be remembered by numbers of persons in both the Federal + and Confederate armies. These will tell you that I describe her + accurately, using her real name, and will recall the strange prediction + which she made, and which I repeat. Was she an epileptic? I do not know. I + have certainly never encountered a more curious character!”—EDITOR.} + </p> + <p> + Such was the personage who greeted us, in a voice of great calmness and + sweetness, as we entered. She did not rise from the bed upon which she was + lying; but her cordial smile clearly indicated that this did not arise + from discourtesy. + </p> + <p> + “Take seats, gentlemen,” she said, “and please excuse me from getting up. + I am a little poorly to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay where you are, Amanda,” said Mohun, “and do not disturb yourself.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with her dark eyes, and said, in her gentle, friendly + voice:— + </p> + <p> + “You know me, I see, General Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + “And you me, I see, Amanda.” + </p> + <p> + “I never saw you before, sir, but—am I mistaken?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least. How did you know me?” + </p> + <p> + The singular Amanda smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I have <i>seen you</i> often, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah—in your visions?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Or, perhaps, Nighthawk described me. You know Mr. Nighthawk!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir. I hope he is well. He has often been here; he may have told + me what you were like, sir, and then I <i>saw you</i> to know you + afterward.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at the speaker attentively. Was she an impostor? It was + impossible to think so. There was absolutely no evidence whatever that she + was acting a part—rather every thing to forbid the supposition, as + she thus readily acquiesced in Mohun’s simple explanation. + </p> + <p> + For some moments Mohun remained silent. Then he said:— + </p> + <p> + “Those visions which you have are very strange. Is it possible that you + really <i>see</i> things before they come to pass—or are you only + amusing yourself, and others, by saying so? I see no especial harm in the + matter, if you are jesting; but tell me, for my own satisfaction and that + of my friend, if you <i>really</i> see things.” + </p> + <p> + Amanda smiled with untroubled sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “I am in earnest, sir,” she said, “and I would not jest with you and + Colonel Surry.” + </p> + <p> + I listened in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you know me, too, Amanda!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—or I think I do. I think you are Colonel Surry, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “I have <i>seen you, too</i>, sir?” was the smiling reply. + </p> + <p> + I sat down, leaned my head upon my hand, and gazed at this + incomprehensible being. Was she really a witch? I do not believe in + witches, and at once rejected that theory. If not an impostor, then, only + one other theory remained—that Nighthawk had described my person to + her, in the same manner that he had Mohun’s, and the woman might thus + believe that she had seen me, as well as my companion, in her “visions.” + </p> + <p> + To her last words, however, I made no reply, and Mohun renewed the + colloquy, as before. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are really in earnest, Amanda, and actually see, in vision, what + is coming to pass?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I think I do, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you have the visions often?” + </p> + <p> + “I did once, sir, but they now seldomer come.” + </p> + <p> + “What produces them?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it is any excitement, sir. They tell me that I lay on my bed + moaning, and moving my arms about,—and when I wake, after these + attacks, I remember seeing the visions.” + </p> + <p> + “I hear that you predicted General Hunter’s attack on Lexington last + June.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I told a lady what <i>I saw</i>, some months before it came to + pass.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you see? Will you repeat it for us?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir. I remember all, and will tell you about it, as it seems to + interest you. I saw a town, on the other side of the mountain, which they + afterward told me was called Lexington—but I did not know its name + then—and a great army of men in blue dresses came marching in, + shouting and cheering. The next thing I saw was a large building on fire, + and through the windows I saw books burning, with some curious-looking + things, of which I do not know the names.” + </p> + <p> + “The Military Institute, with the books and scientific apparatus,” said + Mohun, calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Was it, sir? I did not know.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you see afterward, Amanda?” + </p> + <p> + “Another house burning, sir; the Federal people gave the ladies ten + minutes to leave it, and then set it on fire.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun glanced at me. + </p> + <p> + “That is strange,” he said; “do you know the name of the family?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “It was Governor Letcher’s. Well, what next?” + </p> + <p> + “Then they went in a great crowd, and broke open another building—a + large house, sir—and took every thing. Among the things they took + was a statue, which they did not break up, but carried away with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Washington’s statue!” murmured Mohun; and, turning to me, he added:— + </p> + <p> + “This is curious, is it not, Surry?” + </p> + <p> + I nodded. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Very</i> curious.” + </p> + <p> + I confess I believed that the strange woman was trifling with us, and had + simply made up this story after the event. Mohun saw my incredulity, and + said, in a low tone:— + </p> + <p> + “You do not believe in this?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I returned, in the same tone. + </p> + <p> + “And yet one thing is remarkable.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “That a lady of the highest character assured me, the other day, that all + this was related to her before Hunter even entered the Valley."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Fact.} + </p> + <p> + And turning to Amanda, he said:— + </p> + <p> + “When did you see these things?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it was in March, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The words were uttered in the simplest manner possible. The strange woman + smiled as sweetly as she spoke, and seemed as far from being guilty of a + deliberate imposture as before. + </p> + <p> + “And you <i>saw</i> the fight at Reams’s, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; I saw it two months before it took place. There was a man + killed running through the yard of a house, and they told me, afterward, + he was found dead there.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you had any visions, since?” + </p> + <p> + “Only one, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Lately?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you see?” + </p> + <p> + “It was not much, sir. I saw the Federal people on horses, watering their + horses in a large river somewhere west of here, and the vision said the + war would be over about next March.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Which side will be successful, Amanda?” + </p> + <p> + “The vision did not say, sir."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Colonel Surry assured me that he had scrupulously searched + his memory to recall the exact words of this singular woman: and that he + had given the precise substance of her statements; often, the exact words.—ED.} + </p> + <p> + Mohun, who had taken his seat on a rude settee, leaned his elbow on his + knee, and for some moments gazed into the fire. + </p> + <p> + “I have asked you some questions, Amanda,” he said at length, “relating to + public events. I <i>now come to some private matters</i>—those which + brought me hither—in which your singular visions may probably assist + me. Are you willing to help me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, sir, if I can,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0116" id="link2H_4_0116"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. — DEEP UNDER DEEP. + </h2> + <p> + Mohun fixed his mild, and yet penetrating glance upon the singular woman, + who sustained it, however, with no change in her calm and smiling + expression. + </p> + <p> + “You know Nighthawk?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir. He has been here often.” + </p> + <p> + “And Swartz?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir—I have known him many years.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen him, lately?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; not for some weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You saw him some weeks since?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “At this house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what has become of him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; but I suppose he is off somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “He is dead!” + </p> + <p> + Her head rose slightly, but the smile was unchanged. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t tell me, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, murdered; perhaps you know his murderer?” + </p> + <p> + “Who was it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Darke.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know <i>him</i>. He has been here, lately. Poor Mr. Swartz! And so + they murdered him! I am sorry for him.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun’s glance became more penetrating. + </p> + <p> + “You say that Colonel Darke has been here lately?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the occasion of his visit?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, sir; unless it was to hear me tell my visions.” + </p> + <p> + “You never knew him before?” + </p> + <p> + Amanda hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” she said at length. + </p> + <p> + “When, and how?” + </p> + <p> + “It was many years ago, sir;—I do not like to speak of these things. + He is a terrible man, they say.” + </p> + <p> + “You can speak to me, Amanda. I will repeat nothing; nor will Colonel + Surry.” + </p> + <p> + The singular woman looked from Mohun to me, evidently hesitating. Then she + seemed suddenly to make up her mind, and said, with her eternal smile:— + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you, then, sir. I can read faces, and I know neither you nor + Colonel Surry will get me into trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not—on my honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “That is enough, gentlemen; and now I will tell you what you wish to know, + General Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke she closed her eyes, and seemed for some moments to be + reflecting. Then opening them again, she gazed, with her calm smile, at + Mohun, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “It was many years ago, sir, when I first saw Colonel Darke, who then went + by another name. I was living in this same house, when late one evening a + light carriage stopped before the door, and a gentleman got out of it, and + came in. He said he was travelling with his wife, who had been taken sick, + and would I give them shelter until morning, when she would be able to go + on? I was a poor woman, sir, as I am now, and hoped to be paid. I would + have given the poor sick lady shelter all the same, though—and I + told him he could come in, and sleep in this room, and I would go into + that closet-like place behind you, sir. Well, he thanked me, and went back + to the carriage, where a lady sat. He took her in his arms and brought her + along to the house, when I saw that she was a very beautiful young lady, + but quite pale. Well, sir, she came in and sat down in that chair you are + now sitting in, and after awhile, said she was better. The gentleman had + gone out and put away his horse, and when he came back I had supper ready, + and every thing comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the appearance of the lady?” said Mohun, over whose brow a + contraction passed. + </p> + <p> + “She was small and dark, sir; but had the finest eyes I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + “The same,” said Mohun, in a low tone. “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “They stayed all night, sir. Next morning they paid me,—though it + was little—and went on toward the south.” + </p> + <p> + “They seemed poor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. The lady’s dress was cheap and faded—and the gentleman’s + threadbare.” + </p> + <p> + “What names did they give?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun’s brow again contracted. + </p> + <p> + “Well, go on,” he said, “or rather, go back, Amanda. You say that they + remained with you until the morning. Did you not hear some of their + conversation—gain some knowledge of whence they came, whither they + were going, and what was the object of their journey?” + </p> + <p> + The woman hesitated, glancing at Mohun. Then she smiled, and shook her + head. + </p> + <p> + “You will get me into trouble, sir,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I will not, upon my honor. You have told me enough to enable me to do so, + however—why not tell me all? You say you slept in that closet there—so + you must have heard them converse. I am entitled to know all—tell me + what they said.” + </p> + <p> + And taking from his purse a piece of gold, Mohun placed it in the hand + extended upon the bed. The hand closed upon it—clutched it. The eye + of the woman glittered, and I saw that she had determined to speak. + </p> + <p> + “It was not much, sir,” she said. “I did listen, and heard many things, + but they would not interest you.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, they will interest me much.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a sort of quarrel I overheard, sir. Mr. Mortimer was blaming his + wife for something, and said she had brought him to misery. She replied in + the same way, and said that it was a strange thing in <i>him</i> to talk + to <i>her</i> so, when she had broken every law of God and man, to marry + the—” + </p> + <p> + “The—?” Mohun repeated, bending forward. + </p> + <p> + “The murderer of her father, she said, sir,” returned Amanda. + </p> + <p> + Mohun started, and looked with a strange expression at me. + </p> + <p> + “You understand!” he said, in a low tone, “is the thing credible?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hear more,” I said, gloomy in spite of myself. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” Mohun said, turning more calmly toward the woman; “that was the + reply of the lady, then—that she had broken all the laws of God and + man by marrying the murderer of her father. Did she utter the name of her + father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” + </p> + <p> + “A Mr. George Conway,” replied Amanda, who seemed to feel that she had + gone too far to conceal any thing. + </p> + <p> + “And the reason for this marriage?” said Mohun, in a low tone; “did she + explain, or say any thing which explained to you, how such a union had + ever taken place?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. They said so many things to each other, that I came to know + all. The young lady was a daughter of a Mr. George Conway, and when she + was a girl, had fallen in love with some worthless young man, who had + persuaded her to elope with him and get married. He soon deserted her, + when she fell in with this Mr. Mortimer and married him.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she know that he was her father’s murderer?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir—not until after their marriage, I gathered.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Mohun, who had suppressed all indications of emotion, and was + listening coolly; “then it seems to me that she was wrong in taking shame + to herself—or claiming credit—for the marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” returned Amanda, “and he told her as much.” + </p> + <p> + “So they had something like a quarrel?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly a quarrel, sir. He seemed to love her with all his heart—more + than she loved him. They went on talking, and laying plans to make money + in some way. I remember he said to her, ‘You are sick, and need every + luxury—I would rather die than see you deprived of them—I + would cheat or rob to supply you every thing—and we must think of + some means, honest or dishonest, to get the money we want. I do not care + for myself, but you are all that I have left in the world.’ That is what + he said, sir.” + </p> + <p> + And Amanda was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Then they fell asleep?” asked Mohun. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; and on the next morning he took her in his arms again, and + carried her to the carriage, and they left me.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun leaned his chin upon his hand, knit his brows, and reflected. The + singular narrative plunged me too into a reverie. This man, Darke, was a + veritable gulf of mystery—his life full of hidden and inexplicable + things. The son of General Davenant, he had murdered his father’s foe; + permitted that father to be tried for the crime, and to remain under + suspicion; disappeared, changed his name, encountered the daughter of his + victim, married her, had those mysterious dealings with Mohun, disappeared + a second time, changed his name a second time, and now had once more made + his appearance near the scene of his first crime, to murder Swartz, + capture his father and brother, and complete his tragic record by fighting + under the enemy’s flag against his country and his family! + </p> + <p> + There was something diabolical in that career; in this man’s life “deep + under deep” met the eye. And yet he was not entirely bad. On that night in + Pennsylvania, he had refused to strike Mohun at a disadvantage—and + had borne off the gray woman at the peril of death or capture. He had + released his captured father and brother, bowing his head before them. He + had confessed the murder of George Conway, over his own signature, to save + this father. The woman who was his accomplice, he seemed to love more than + his own life. Such were the extraordinary contrasts in a character, which, + at first sight, seemed entirely devilish; and I reflected with absorbing + interest upon the singular phenomenon. + </p> + <p> + I was aroused by the voice of Mohun. He had never appeared more calm: in + his deep tones I could discern no emotion whatever. + </p> + <p> + “That is a singular story,” he said, “and your friend, Colonel Darke, is a + curious personage. But let us come back to events more recent—to the + visits of Swartz.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Amanda, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “But, first, let me ask—did Colonel Darke recognize you?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean <i>know</i> me? Oh, yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And did he speak of his former visit—with his wife?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And you—?” + </p> + <p> + Amanda smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I made out I didn’t remember him, sir; I was afraid he would think I had + overheard that talk with his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “So he simply called as if to see you as a curiosity?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—and staid only a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know or rather knew poor Swartz better?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew him well, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “He often stopped here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun looked at the woman keenly, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “I wish you, now, to answer plainly the question which I am about to ask. + I come hither as a friend—I am sent by your friend Mr. Nighthawk. + Listen and answer honestly—Do you know any thing of a paper which + Swartz had in his possession—an important paper which he was + guarding from Colonel Darke?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not, sir,” said Amanda, with her eternal smile. + </p> + <p> + “For that paper I will pay a thousand dollars in gold. Where is it?” + </p> + <p> + The woman’s eyes glittered, then she shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “On my salvation I do not know, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you discover?” + </p> + <p> + Again the shake of the head. + </p> + <p> + “How can I, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Mohun’s head sank. A bitter sigh issued from his lips—almost a + groan. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” he said, almost fiercely, but with a singular smile, “you have + visions—you see things! I do not believe in your visions—they + seem folly—but only <i>see</i> where that paper is to be discovered, + and I will believe! nay more, I will pay you the sum which I mentioned + this moment.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at the woman to witness the result of this decisive test of her + sincerity. “If she believes in her own visions, she will be elated,” I + said, “if she is an impostor, she will be cast down.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled radiantly! + </p> + <p> + “I will try, sir!” she said. + </p> + <p> + Mohun gazed at her strangely. + </p> + <p> + “When shall I come to hear the result?” + </p> + <p> + “In ten days from this time, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “In ten days? So be it.” + </p> + <p> + And rising, Mohun bade the singular personage farewell, and went toward + his horse. + </p> + <p> + I followed, and we rode back, rapidly, in dead silence, toward the + Rowanty. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0117" id="link2H_4_0117"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. — HOW THE MOMENT AT LAST CAME. + </h2> + <p> + Mohun rode on for more than a mile at full gallop, without uttering a + word. Then he turned his head, and said, with a sigh:— + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think of your new acquaintance, Surry?” + </p> + <p> + “I think she is an impostor.” + </p> + <p> + “As to her visions, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Her story of Darke I believe to be true.” + </p> + <p> + “And I know it,” returned Mohun. “A strange discovery, is it not? I went + there to-day, without dreaming of this. Nighthawk informed me that Swartz + had often been at the house of this woman—that the paper which I + wish to secure might have been left with her for safe keeping—and + thus I determined to go and ferret out the matter, in a personal + interview. I have done so, pretty thoroughly, and it seems plain that she + knows nothing of its present whereabouts. Will she discover through her + visions—her spies—or her strange penetration, exhibited in the + recognition of our persons? I know not; and so that matter ends. I have + failed, and yet have learned some singular facts. Can you believe that + strange story of Darke? Is he not a weird personage? This narrative we + have just heard puts the finishing touch to his picture—the murderer + marries the daughter of his victim!” + </p> + <p> + “It is truly an extraordinary history altogether,” I said, “and the whole + life of this man is now known to me, with a single exception.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you mean—?” + </p> + <p> + “The period when you fought with him, and ran him through the body, and + threw him into that grave, from which Swartz afterward rescued him on the + morning of the 13th December, 1856.” + </p> + <p> + Mohun looked at me with that clear and penetrating glance which + characterized him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you know that!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I could not fail to know it, Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + “True—and to think that all this time you have, perhaps, regarded me + as a criminal, Surry! But I am one—that is I was—in intent if + not in reality. Yes, my dear friend,” Mohun added, with a deep sigh, his + head sinking upon his breast, “there was a day in my life when I was + insane, a simple madman,—and on that day I attempted to commit + murder, and suicide! You have strangely come to catch many glimpses of + those past horrors. On the Rappahannock the words of that woman must have + startled you. In the Wilderness my colloquy with the spy revealed more. + Lastly, the words of Darke on the night of Swartz’s murder must have + terribly complicated me in this issue of horrors. I knew that you must + know much, and I did not shrink before you, Surry! Do you know why? + Because I have repented, friend! and thank God! my evil passions did not + result, as I intended, in murder and self-destruction!” + </p> + <p> + Mohun passed his hand across his forehead, to wipe away the drops of cold + perspiration. + </p> + <p> + “All this is gloomy and tragic,” he said; “and yet I must inflict it on + you, Surry. Even more, I earnestly long to tell you the whole story of + which you have caught these glimpses. Will you listen? It will not be + long. I wish to show you, my dear friend—you are that to me, Surry!—that + I am not unworthy of your regard; that there are no degrading scenes, at + least, in my past life; that I have not cheated, tricked, deceived—even + if I have attempted to destroy myself and others! Will you listen?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been waiting long to do so, Mohun,” I said. “Speak, but first hear + me. There is a man in this army who is the soul of honor. Since my + father’s death I value his good opinion more than that of all others—it + is Robert E. Lee. Well, come with me if you choose, and I will go to Lee + with you, and place my hand upon your shoulder, and say: ‘General, this is + my friend! I vouch for him; I am proud of his regard. Think well of him, + or badly of me too!’ Are you satisfied?” + </p> + <p> + Mohun smiled sadly. + </p> + <p> + “I knew all that,” he said. “Do you think I can not read men, Surry? Long + since I gave you in my heart the name of <i>friend</i>, and I knew that + you had done as much toward me. Come, then! Go to my camp with me; in the + evening we will take a ride. I am going to conduct you to a spot where we + can talk without interruption, the exact place where the crimes of which I + shall speak were committed.” + </p> + <p> + And resuming the gallop, Mohun led the way, amid the trailing festoons, + through the fallen logs, across the Rowanty. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour afterward we had reached his camp. + </p> + <p> + As the sun began to decline we again mounted our horses. + </p> + <p> + Pushing on rapidly we reached a large house on a hill above the Nottoway, + and entered the tall gateway at the moment when the great windows were all + ablaze in the sunset. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0118" id="link2H_4_0118"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. — FONTHILL. + </h2> + <p> + Mohun spurred up the hill; reined in his horse in front of the great + portico, and, dismounting, fastened his bridle to the bough of a + magnificent exotic, one of a hundred which were scattered over the + extensive grounds. + </p> + <p> + I imitated him, and we entered the house together, through the door, which + gave way at the first push. No one had come to take our horses. No one + opposed our entrance. The house was evidently deserted. + </p> + <p> + I looked round in astonishment and admiration. In every thing appertaining + to the mansion were the indications of almost unlimited wealth, directed + by the severest and most elegant taste. The broken furniture was heavy and + elaborately carved; the remnants of carpet of sumptuous velvet; the walls, + ceiling, doorways, and deep windows were one mass of the richest + chiselling and most elaborate fresco-painting. + </p> + <p> + On the walls still hung some faded portraits in the most costly frames. On + the mantel-pieces of variegated marble, supported by fluted pillars, with + exquisitely carved capitals, rested a full length picture of a gentleman, + the heavy gilt frame tarnished and crumbling. + </p> + <p> + The house was desolate, deserted, inexpressibly saddening from the evident + contrast between its present and its past. But about the grand mansion + hung an august air of departed splendor which to me, was more striking + than if I had visited it in the days of its glory. + </p> + <p> + “Let me introduce ‘Fonthill’ to you, or rather the remains of it, Surry,” + Mohun said, with a sad smile. “It is not pleasant to bring a friend to so + deserted a place; but I have long been absent; the house is gone to decay + like other things in old Virginia. Still we can probably find two chairs. + I will kindle a blaze, and we can light a cigar and talk without + interruption.” + </p> + <p> + With these words, Mohun proceeded to the adjoining apartment, from which + he returned a moment afterward, dragging two chairs with elaborately + carved backs. + </p> + <p> + “See,” he said, with a smile, “they were handsome once. That one with the + ragged remnants of red velvet was my father’s. Take a seat, my dear Surry. + I will sit in the other—it was my mother’s.” + </p> + <p> + Returning to the adjoining room, Mohun again reappeared, this time bearing + in his arms the broken remnants of a mahogany table, which he heaped up in + the great fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “This is all that remains of our old family dining-table,” he said. “Some + Yankee or straggling soldier will probably use it for this purpose—so + I anticipate them!” + </p> + <p> + And, placing combustibles beneath the pile, Mohun had recourse to the + metallic match case which he always carried with him in order to read + dispatches, lit the fuel, and a blaze sprung up. + </p> + <p> + Next, he produced his cigar case, offered me an excellent Havana, which I + accepted, and a minute afterward we were leaning back in the great chairs, + smoking. + </p> + <p> + “An odd welcome, this,” said Mohun, with his sad smile; “broken chairs, + old pictures, and a fire made of ruined furniture! But one thing we have—an + uninterrupted opportunity to converse. Let us talk, therefore, or rather, + I will at once tell you what I promised.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0119" id="link2H_4_0119"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. — “LORD OF HIMSELF, THAT HERITAGE OF WOE.” + </h2> + <p> + Mohun leaned back in his chair, reflected for a moment with evident + sadness, and then, with a deep sigh, said:— + </p> + <p> + “I am about to relate to you, my dear Surry, a history so singular, that + it is probable you will think I am indulging my fancy, in certain portions + of it. That would be an injustice. It is a true life I am about to lay + before you—and I need not add that actual occurrences are often more + surprising than any due to the imagination of the romance writer. I once + knew a celebrated novelist, and one day related to him the curious history + of a family in Virginia. ‘Make a romance of that,’ I said, ‘it is an + actual history.’ But my friend shook his head. ‘It will not answer my + purpose,’ he replied, smiling, ‘it is too strange, and the critics would + call me a “sensation writer”—that is, ruin me!’ And he was right, + Surry. It is only to a friend, on some occasion like the present, that I + could tell my own story. It is too singular to be believed otherwise. + </p> + <p> + “But I am prosing. Let me proceed. My family is an old one, they tell me, + in this part of Virginia; and my father, whose portrait you see before + you, on the mantel-piece, was what is called an ‘aristocrat.’ That is to + say, he was a gentleman of refined tastes and habits; fond of books; a + great admirer of fine paintings; and a gentleman of social habits and + feelings. ‘Fonthill’—this old house—had been, for many + generations, the scene of a profuse hospitality; my father kept up the + ancient rites, entertaining all comers; and when I grew to boyhood I + unconsciously imbibed the feelings, and clung to the traditions of the + family. These traditions may be summed up in the maxims which my father + taught me—‘Use hospitality; be courteous to high and low alike; + assist the poor; succor the unhappy; give bountifully without grudging; + and enjoy the goods heaven provides you, with a clear conscience, whether + you are called an aristocrat or a democrat!’ Such were my father’s + teachings; and he practised them, for he had the kindest and sweetest + heart in the world. He was aided in all by my mother, a perfect saint upon + earth; and if I have since that time given way to rude passions, it was + not for wanting a good example in the blameless lives of this true + gentleman and pure gentlewoman. + </p> + <p> + “Unhappily, I did not have their example long. When I was seventeen my + mother died; and my father, as though unable to live without her who had + so long been his blessing, followed her a year afterward, leaving me the + sole heir of the great possessions of the family. For a time grief crushed + me. I was alone—for I had neither brother nor sister—a + solitary youth in this great lonely house, standing isolated amid its + twenty thousand acres—and even the guardian who had been appointed + to look after my affairs, seldom came to see me and relieve my loneliness. + The only associate I had was a sort of bailiff or steward, Nighthawk—you + know him, and his attachment for me. It was hereditary—this + attachment. My father had loved and trusted his; relieved the necessities + of the humble family once when they were about to be turned adrift for + debt. The elder Nighthawk then conceived a profound affection for his + benefactor—and dying, left to his son the injunction to watch over + and serve faithfully the son of his ‘old master.’ + </p> + <p> + “Do not laugh at that word, Surry. It is the old English term, and England + is best of all, I think. So Nighthawk came to live with me, and take care + of my interests. You know that he has continued to be faithful, and to + serve me, and love me, to this moment. + </p> + <p> + “But in spite of the presence of this true friend, I was still lonely. I + craved life, movement, company—and this I promised myself to secure + at the university of Virginia, to which I accordingly went, spending there + the greater portion of my time until I had reached the age of twenty. Then + I returned to Fonthill—only to find, however, that the spot was more + dreary than before. I was the master of a great estate, but alone; ‘lord + of myself,’ I found, like the unhappy Childe Harold, and Randolph of + Roanoke after him, that it was a ‘heritage of woe.’ There was little or no + society in the neighborhood—at least suited to my age—I lived + a solitary, secluded, dormant existence; and events soon proved that this + life had prepared my character for some violent passion. A philosopher + could have foretold that. Every thing in excess brings on reaction. The + drunkard may abstain long, but the moment he touches spirit, an orgy + commences. Men love, because the time and a woman have come—and that + hour and person came all at once to arouse me from my lethargy. + </p> + <p> + “One day I was inert, apathetic, sluggish in my movements, careless of all + things and all persons around me. On the next I was aroused, excited, with + every nerve and faculty strung. I was becoming suddenly intoxicated, and + soon the drunkenness of love had absorbed all the powers of my being. + </p> + <p> + “You know who aroused that infatuation, the daughter of George Conway.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0120" id="link2H_4_0120"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. — THE STORM. + </h2> + <p> + “At that time she was called Miss Mortimer. The commencement of our + acquaintance was singular. Fate seemed to have decreed that all connected + with our relations should be ‘dramatic.’ + </p> + <p> + “One night I was returning at full speed from the house of a gentleman in + the neighborhood, whither I had been to make a visit. The night was as + dark as a wolf’s mouth, and a violent storm rushed down upon me, when I + was still many miles from home. I have scarcely ever witnessed a more + furious tempest; the thunder and lightning were fearful, and I pushed my + horse to his utmost speed to reach Fonthill before the torrents of rain + drenched me to the skin. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I had entered the Fonthill woods, a mile or two from the house, and + was galloping at full speed through the black darkness which the lightning + only occasionally illumined now, when all at once my horse struck his + chest against something. I heard a cry, and then a dazzling flash showed + me a light carriage which had evidently just been overturned. I was nearly + unseated by the collision, but leaped to the ground, and at the same + moment another flash showed me the form of a lady whom a man was + extricating from the broken vehicle. I hastened to render my assistance. + The lady was lifted in our arms, and then I aided in raising the fallen + horse, who lay on his side, frightened and kicking violently. + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes afterward I was placed in possession of what the lawyers call + ‘the facts of the case.’ Mr. Mortimer, of Georgia, was travelling home + from the North, with his sick sister in his carriage, for the benefit of + her health. They had lost their way; the storm had caught them; their + carriage had overturned in the darkness,—where could Mr. Mortimer + obtain lodgings for the night? The condition of his sister rendered it + imperative that they should not continue their journey until morning, even + if the storm and broken vehicle permitted. + </p> + <p> + “I listened, and felt a warm sympathy for the poor sick girl—she was + only a girl of eighteen, and very beautiful. I would gladly have offered + my own house, but it was still some miles distant, and the young woman was + so weak, and trembled so violently, that it would plainly be impossible to + conduct her so far on foot. True, my carriage might have been sent for + her, but the rain was now descending in torrents; before it arrived she + would be drenched—something else must be thought of. All at once the + idea occurred to me, ‘Parson Hope’s is only a quarter of a mile distant.’ + Mr. Hope was the parson of the parish, and a most excellent man. I at once + suggested to Mr. Mortimer that his sister should be conducted thither, and + as he assented at once, we half conducted, half carried the poor girl + through the woods to the humble dwelling of the clergyman. + </p> + <p> + “The good parson received us in a manner which showed his conviction that + to succor the stranger or the unfortunate is often to ‘entertain angels + unawares.’ It is true that on this occasion it was something like a brace + of devils whom he received into his mansion! The young lady threw herself + into a seat; seemed to suffer much; and was soon conducted by the parson’s + old housekeeper—for he was a childless widower—to her chamber + in which a fire had been quickly kindled. She disappeared, sighing + faintly, but in those few minutes I had taken a good look at her. You have + seen her; and I need not describe her. She is still of great beauty; but + at that time she was a wonder of loveliness. Slender, graceful, with a + figure exquisitely shaped; with rosy lips as artless as an infant’s; grand + dark eyes which seemed to burn with an inner light as she looked at you; + such was <i>Miss Mortimer</i> at eighteen, when I first saw her on that + night in the Fonthill woods.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0121" id="link2H_4_0121"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. — ACT I. + </h2> + <p> + “An hour after the scene which I have tried to describe, I was at home; + and, seated in this apartment, then very different in appearance, + reflected deeply upon this romantic encounter with the beautiful girl. + </p> + <p> + “It was midnight before I retired. I fell asleep thinking of her, and the + exquisite face still followed me in my dreams. + </p> + <p> + “These few words tell you much, do they not, Surry? You no doubt begin to + understand, now, when I have scarcely begun the real narrative, what is + going to be the character of the drama. Were I a romance writer, I should + call your attention to the fact that I have introduced my characters, + described their appearance, and given you an inkling of the series of + events which are about to be unrolled before you. A young man of twenty is + commended to your attention; a youth living in a great mansion; lord of + himself, but tired of exercising that authority; of violent passions, but + without an object; and at that very moment, presto! appeared a lovely + girl, with dark eyes, rosy lips; whom the youth encounters and rescues + under most romantic circumstances! + </p> + <p> + “Well, the ‘lord of himself’ acted in real life as he would have done in a + novel. In other words, my dear Surry, I proceeded straightway to fall + violently in love with <i>Miss Mortimer</i>; and it is needless to say + that on the next day my horse might have been seen standing at the rack of + the parsonage. I had gone, you see, as politeness required, to ask how the + young lady felt after her accident. + </p> + <p> + “She was leaning back in an arm-chair, reading a ‘good book,’ and looked + charming. The accident seemed to have greatly shocked the delicate frame + of the young creature, but when I entered, she held out her hand, greeting + me with a fascinating smile. Mademoiselle was imitated by Monsieur. I mean + Mr. Mortimer. I did not fancy the countenance of that gentleman much. It + was dark and forbidden, but his manners were those of a person acquainted + with good society; he thanked me ‘with effusion,’ as the French say, for + my timely assistance on the night before; and then he strolled forth with + the good parson to look at the garden, leaving me <i>tete-à -tete</i> with + his sister. + </p> + <p> + “Why lengthen out my story by comment, reflections, a description of every + scene, and the progressive steps through which the ‘affair’ passed? I was + in love with Miss Mortimer. She saw it. Her eyes said, ‘Love me as much as + you choose, and don’t be afraid I will not love you soon, in return.’ At + the end of this interview, which the worthy Mr. Mortimer did not interrupt + for at least two hours, I rode home thinking with a throb of the heart ‘If + she will only love me?’ Then the throb was succeeded by a sudden sinking + of the same organ. ‘But there will be no opportunity!’ I groaned, + ‘doubtless in two or three days she will leave this part of the country!’ + A week afterward that apprehension had been completely removed. Miss + Mortimer was still faint and weak, ‘from her accident.’ All her movements + were slow and languid. She had not left the good parson’s house, Surry—and + what is more she was not going to leave it! She had learned what she + desired to know about me; heard that I was a young man of great wealth; + and had devised a scheme so singular that—but let me not anticipate! + She proceeded rapidly. In our second interview she ‘made eyes at me.’ In + the third, she blushed and murmured, avoiding my glances, when I looked at + her. In the fourth, she blushed more deeply when I took her hand—but + did not withdraw it. In the fifth, the fair head in some manner had come + to rest on my shoulder—no doubt from weakness. And in a few days + afterward the shy, embarrassed, loving, palpitating creature, blushing + deeply, ‘sunk upon my bosom,’ as the poets say, and murmured, ‘How can I + resist you?’ + </p> + <p> + “In other words, my dear friend, <i>Miss Mortimer</i> had promised to + become <i>my wife</i>, and I need not say, I was the happiest of men. I + thought with rapture of the bliss I was about to enjoy in having by my + side, throughout life, this charming creature. I trembled at the very + thought that the accident in the wood might not have happened, and I might + never have known her! I was at the parsonage morning, noon, and night. + When not beside <i>her</i> I was riding through the forest at full speed, + with bared brow, laughing lips, and shouts of joy—in a word, my dear + friend, I was as much intoxicated as ever youth was yet, and fed on froth + and moonshine to an extent that was really astonishing! + </p> + <p> + “There was absolutely nothing to oppose our marriage. My old guardian, it + is true, shook his head, and suggested inquiries into the family, + position, character, etc., of the Mortimers; I was young, wealthy, heir of + one of the oldest families, he said, and sharpers might deceive me. But + all I heard was the word ‘sharpers’—and I left my guardian, whose + functions had ceased now, in high displeasure at his unworthy imputations. + That angel a sharper! That pure, devoted creature, guilty of deception! I + fell into a rage; swore never to visit my guardian again; and returning to + the parsonage urged a speedy consummation of our marriage. + </p> + <p> + “The fair one was not loth. She indicated that fact by violently opposing + me at first, but soon yielded. When I rode home that night I had made + every arrangement for our union in one month from that time. + </p> + <p> + “So much for Act I., Surry!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0122" id="link2H_4_0122"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. — THE WILL. + </h2> + <p> + Mohun had commenced his narrative in a mild voice, and with an expression + of great sadness upon his features. As he proceeded, however, this all + disappeared; gradually the voice became harsh and metallic, so to describe + it, and his face resumed that expression of cynical bitterness which I had + observed in him on our first meeting. As he returned thus, to the past, + all its bitterness seemed to revive; memory lashed him with its stinging + whip; and Mohun had gone back to his “first phase,”—that of the man, + stern, implacable, and misanthropic. + </p> + <p> + After uttering the words, “So much for Act I., Surry!” he paused. A moment + afterward, however, he resumed his narrative. + </p> + <p> + “What I am now going to tell you is not agreeable to remember, my dear + Surry, and I shall accordingly relate every thing as briefly as possible. + I aim only to give you a clear conception of the tragedy. You will form + your own opinion. + </p> + <p> + “I was impolite enough in introducing <i>Miss Mortimer</i> to you, at the + parsonage, to describe that young lady as a ‘devil.’ No doubt the term + shocked you, and yet it conveyed something very like the exact truth. I + declare to you that this woman was, and is still, a marvel to me, a most + curious study. How could she be such as she was? She had the lips of an + infant, and the eyes of an angel. Was it not strange that, under all that, + she should hide the heart of a born devil? But to continue my narrative. + </p> + <p> + “The month or two which elapsed between my engagement and my marriage was + not an uninterrupted dream of bliss. The atmosphere was strangely + disturbed on more than one occasion. Mademoiselle was frequently absent + from the parsonage when I arrived, taking long walks with Monsieur, her + brother; and when she returned from these excursions, I could see a very + strange expression on her countenance as she looked at me. Occasionally + her glance was like those lurid flashes of lightning which you may have + seen issue from the depths of a black cloud. Her black eyes were the cloud—admire + the simile!—and I assure you their expression at such moments was + far from agreeable. What to make of it, I knew not. I am not + constitutionally irritable, but on more than one occasion I felt a strange + angry throb of the heart when I encountered those glances. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle saw my displeasure, and hastened at once to soothe and + dissipate it. The dark flash was always succeeded by the most brilliant + sunshine; but, even in moments of her greatest apparent abandon, I would + still meet suddenly, when she did not think I was looking at her, the + sombre glance which appalled me. + </p> + <p> + “In spite of this strange phenomenon, however, the young girl possessed + unbounded influence over me. I could not resist her fascinations, and was + as wax in her hands. She took a charming interest in all that concerned + me; painted the blissful future before us, in all the colors of the + rainbow; and declared that the devotion of her whole life would not be + sufficient to display ‘her gratitude for my magnanimity in wedding a poor + girl who had nothing but her warm love to offer me.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘That is more than enough,’ I said, charmed by her caressing voice. ‘I + have few relations, and friends—you are all to me.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And you to me!’ she said. Then she added, with a sort of shudder, ‘but + suppose you were to die!’ + </p> + <p> + “I laughed, and replied:— + </p> + <p> + “‘You would be well provided for, and find yourself a gay young widow with + hundreds of beaux?’ + </p> + <p> + “She looked at me reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you think I would ever marry again?’ she said. ‘No! I would take our + marriage ring, and some little souvenir connected with you, leave your + fine house, and go with my brother to some poor home in a foreign country, + where the memory of our past happiness would be my solace!’ + </p> + <p> + “I shook my head. + </p> + <p> + “‘You will not do that,’ I said, ‘you will be the mistress of all my + fortune, after my death!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, yes!’ I responded, laughing; ‘and, to make every thing certain, I am + going to draw up my will this very day, leaving you every thing which I + possess in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + “Her face suddenly flushed. + </p> + <p> + “‘How can you think of such a thing!’ she said. ‘I did not know how much + you loved me!’ + </p> + <p> + “You will understand, my dear Surry, that those words did not change my + resolution. When I left her I went home, and wrote the will in due form, + and on my next visit she asked, laughing, if I had carried out my absurd + resolution. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ I said, ‘and now let us talk of a more interesting affair—our + marriage!’ + </p> + <p> + “She blushed, then turned pale, and again I saw the strange lurid glance. + It disappeared, however, in an instant, and she was all smiles and + fascinations throughout the remainder of the day. Never had I been so + happy.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0123" id="link2H_4_0123"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. — THE MARRIAGE. + </h2> + <p> + “As the day of our marriage approached,” continued Mohun, “I saw more than + once the same singular expression in the lady’s eyes, and I confess it + chilled me. + </p> + <p> + “She seemed to be the prey to singular moods, and fits of silence. She + took more frequent and longer walks with Mortimer than before. When they + returned from these walks and found me awaiting them at the parsonage, + both would look at me in the strangest way, only to quickly withdraw their + eyes when they caught my own fixed upon them. + </p> + <p> + “I longed to speak of this curious phenomenon to some one, but had no + friend. My best friend, Nighthawk, was alienated from me, and Mademoiselle + had been the cause. From the first moment of our acquaintance, Nighthawk + had seemed to suspect something. He did not attempt to conceal his dislike + of Mortimer and the young lady. Why was that? I could not tell. Your dog + growls when the secret foe approaches you, smiling, and, perhaps, + Nighthawk, my faithful retainer, had something of the watch dog in him. + </p> + <p> + “Certain it is that he had witnessed my growing intimacy with Miss + Mortimer, with ill-concealed distaste. As I became more and more + attentive, he became almost sour toward me. When I asked him the meaning + of his singular deportment, he shook his head—and then, with flushed + cheeks and eyes, exclaimed: ‘do not marry this young person, sir! + something bad will come of it!’ When he said that, I looked at him with + haughty surprise—and this sentiment changed in a few moments to cold + anger. ‘Leave this house,’ I said, ‘and do not return until you have + learned how to treat me with decent respect!’ He looked at me for a + moment, clasped his hands, opened his lips—seemed about to burst + forth into passionate entreaty—but all at once, shaking his head, + went out in silence. I looked after him with a strange shrinking of the + heart. What could he mean? He was senseless!—and I mounted my horse, + galloped to the parsonage, was received with radiant smiles, and forgot + the whole scene. On the next day Nighthawk did not return—nor on the + next. I did not see him again until the evening of the day on which I was + married. + </p> + <p> + “To that ‘auspicious moment’ I have now conducted you, my dear Surry. The + morning for my marriage came. I say ‘the morning’—for my + ‘enchantress,’ as the amatory poets say, had declared that she detested + the idea of being married at night; she also objected to company;—would + I not consent to have the ceremony performed quietly at the parsonage, + with no one present but her brother and the excellent parson, Hope, and + his old housekeeper? Then she would belong to me—I could do as I + pleased with her—take her to Fonthill, or where I chose—she + only begged that I would allow her to embark on the ocean of matrimony, + with no one to witness her blushes but myself, her brother, the old + housekeeper, and the good minister! + </p> + <p> + “I consented at once. The speech charmed me, I need not say—and I + was not myself unwilling to dispense with inquisitive eyes and laughing + witnesses. Infatuated as I was, I could not conceal from myself that my + marriage was a hasty and extremely ‘romantic’ affair. I doubted whether + the old friends of my father in the neighborhood would approve of it; and + now, when Mademoiselle gave me a good excuse to dispense with their + presence, I gladly assented, invited no one, and went to my wedding alone, + in the great family chariot, unaccompanied by a single friend or relative. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle met me with a radiant smile, and her wedding dress of white + silk, made her look perfectly charming. Her lips were caressing, her eyes + melting, but all at once, as she looked at me, I saw the color all fade + out of the rosy lips of the lady; and from the great dark eyes darted the + lurid flash. A chill, like that of death smote me, I know not why, but I + suppressed my emotion. In ten minutes, I was standing before the excellent + clergyman, the young lady’s cold hand in mine—and we were duly + declared man and wife. + </p> + <p> + “All my forebodings and strange shrinkings were completely dissipated at + this instant. I was overwhelmed with happiness, and would not have envied + a king upon his throne. With the hand of the lovely creature in my own, + and her eyes fixed upon me with an expression of the deepest love, I + experienced but one emotion—that of full, complete, unalloyed + happiness. + </p> + <p> + “Let me hasten on. The storm is coming, my dear Surry. I linger on the + threshold of the tragedy, and recoil even now, with a sort of shudder from + the terrible scenes which succeeded my marriage. <i>Tragedy</i> is a mild + word, as you will perceive, for the drama. It was going to surpass + Aeschylus—and preserve the Greek ‘unities’ with frightful precision! + </p> + <p> + “Half an hour after the ceremony, I led madam to my chariot; followed her + into the vehicle, and making a last sign of greeting to the good parson, + directed the driver to proceed to Fonthill. Madam’s excellent brother did + not accompany us. He declared his intention to remain on that night at the + parsonage. He would call at Fonthill on the next day—on the day + after, he proposed to continue his way to Georgia. His eyes were not a + pleasant spectacle as he uttered these words, and I observed a singular + pallor came to madam’s countenance. But I was in no mood to nourish + suspicion. At the height of happiness, I looked serenely down upon all the + world, and with the hand of <i>my wife</i> in my own, was driven rapidly + to Fonthill. + </p> + <p> + “We arrived in the afternoon, and dined in state, all alone. Madam did the + honors of <i>her table</i> with exquisite grace, but more than once I saw + her hand shake in a very singular way, as she carried food or a glass to + her lips. + </p> + <p> + “After dinner she bade me a smiling courtesy, leaving me to find company + in my cigar, she said; and tripped off to her chamber. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I lit my cigar, retired to the library, and seating myself in an + arm-chair before the fire, began to reflect. It was nearly the middle of + December, and through the opening in the curtains I could see the + moonlight on the chill expanse of the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “I had just taken my seat, when I heard a step in the passage, the door of + the library opened, and Nighthawk, as pale as a ghost, and with a strange + expression in his eyes, entered the apartment.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0124" id="link2H_4_0124"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. — WEDDING ARRANGEMENTS. + </h2> + <p> + “I had recognized his step,” continued Mohun, “but I did not move or turn + my head, for I had not recovered from my feeling of ill humor toward the + faithful retainer. I allowed him to approach me, and then said coldly, + without looking at him— + </p> + <p> + “‘Who is that?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I, sir,’ said Nighthawk, in a trembling voice. + </p> + <p> + “‘What do you want?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I wish to speak to you, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I am not at leisure.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I <i>must</i> speak to you, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “I wheeled round in my chair, and looked at him. His pallor was frightful. + </p> + <p> + “‘What does all this mean?’ I said, coldly, ‘this is a singular + intrusion.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I would not intrude upon you, if it was not necessary sir,’ he said, in + an agitated voice, ‘but I must speak to you to-night!’ + </p> + <p> + “There was something in his accent which frightened me, I knew not why. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well speak!’ I said, austerely, ‘but be brief!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘As brief as I can, sir; but I must tell you all. If you strike me dead + at your feet, I must tell you all, sir!’ + </p> + <p> + “In spite of myself I shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “‘Speak!’ I said, ‘what does this mean, Nighthawk?’ Why do you look like a + ghost at me?’ + </p> + <p> + “He came up close to me. + </p> + <p> + “‘What I have to tell you concerns your honor and your life, sir!’ he + said, in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + “I gazed at him in speechless astonishment. Was I the prey of some + nightmare? I protest to you, Surry, I thought for a moment that I was + dreaming all this. A tremor ran through my frame; I placed my hand upon my + heart, which felt icy cold—then suddenly my self-possession and + coolness seemed to return to me as by magic. + </p> + <p> + “‘Explain your words,’ I said, coldly, ‘there is some mystery in them + which I do not understand. Speak, and speak plainly.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I will do so, sir,’ he replied, in the same trembling voice. + </p> + <p> + “And going to the door of the apartment, he bent down and placed his ear + at the key-hole. He remained in this attitude for a moment without moving. + Then rising, he went to the window, and drawing aside the curtains, looked + out on the chill moonlit expanse. This second examination seemed to + satisfy him. At the same instant a light step—the step of madam—was + heard crossing the floor of the apartment, above our heads; and this + evidently banished Nighthawk’s last fears. + </p> + <p> + “He returned quickly to the seat where I was sitting; looked at me for + some minutes with eyes full of fear, affection, sympathy, fright, and said + in a voice so low, that it scarce rose above a whisper:— + </p> + <p> + “‘We are alone, sir, and I can speak without being overheard by these + devils who have betrayed and are about to murder you! Do not interrupt me + sir!—the time is short!—you must know every thing at once, in + an hour it would be too late! The man calling himself Mortimer is probably + within a hundred yards of us at this moment. The woman you have married is——his + wife. Stop, sir!—do not strike me!—listen! I know the truth of + every thing now. She talked with him for an hour under the big cedar, near + the parsonage last night. He will see her again to-night, and in this + house—hear me to the end, sir! You will not harm him; you will care + nothing for all this; you will not know it, for you will be dead, sir!’ + </p> + <p> + “At these words I must have turned deadly pale, for Nighthawk hastened to + my side, and placed his arm around me to support me. But I did not need + his assistance. In an instant I was as calm as I am at this moment. I + quietly removed the arm of Nighthawk, and said in a low tone:— + </p> + <p> + “‘How do you know this?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I overheard their talk,’ he replied, in a husky voice, and looked at me + with infinite tenderness as he spoke. ‘I was coming to see you at the + parsonage, where I thought you had gone, sir. I could not bear to keep + away from my old master’s son any longer; and let him get married without + making up, and having him feel kindly again to me. Well, sir, I had just + reached the big cedar, when I saw <i>the lady</i> come out of the house, + hasten toward the cedar, and hide herself in the shadow, within a few feet + of me. No sooner had she done so, than I saw a man come from the rear of + the house, straight to the cedar, and as he drew nearer I recognized + Mortimer. Madam coughed slightly, as though to give him the signal; he + soon reached her; and then they began to talk. I was hidden by the trunk + of the tree, and the shadow of the heavy boughs, reaching nearly to the + ground; so I heard every word they said, without being discovered.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What was it they said?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I can not repeat their words, sir, but I can tell you what I learned + from their talk.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Tell me,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘First, I discovered that madam had been married to that man more than a + year before you saw her.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Before which she had been tried, convicted, and confined for six months + in a prison in New York, as a thief. You turn pale, sir; shall I stop?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No, go on,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘These facts,’ continued Nighthawk, ‘came out in a sort of quarrel which + madam had with the man. He reproached her with intending to desert him—with + loving you—and said he had not rescued her from misery to be thus + treated. She laughed, and replied that she was only following a suggestion + of his own. They were poor, they must live; he had himself said that they + must procure money either honestly or dishonestly; and he had fully + approved of the plan she had now undertaken. <i>You</i>, sir—she + added—were an “empty-headed fool,”—the idea of her “loving” + you was absurd!—but you were wealthy; immensely wealthy; had made a + will leaving her your entire property;—<i>if you died suddenly on + your wedding night</i>, she and himself would possess Fonthill, and live + in affluence.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Go on,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘At these words,’ continued Nighthawk, ‘I could see the man turn pale. He + had not intended <i>that</i>, he said. His scheme had been, that madam + should induce you to bestow upon her a splendid trousseau in the shape of + jewels and money, with which they would elope. The marriage was only a + farce, he added—he did not wish to turn it into a tragedy. But she + interrupted him impatiently, and said she hated and would have no mercy on + you. She would have all or nothing. Your will made her the mistress. What + was a crime, more or less, to people like themselves! At these words he + uttered a growl. In a word, she added, you were <i>an obstacle</i>, and + she was going to <i>suppress you</i>—with or without his consent. + She then proceeded to tell him her resolution; and it is a frightful, a + horrible one, sir! All is arranged—you are about to be <i>murdered</i>!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘How, and when?’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘This very night, by poison!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah!’ I said, ‘explain that.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Madam has provided herself with strychnine, which she will place in the + tea you drink to-night. Tea will be served in half an hour. <i>He</i> will + be waiting—for she forced him to agree—and your cries will + announce all to him. You will be poisoned between eight and nine o’clock + in the evening, sir,—at ten you will already be dying,—and at + midnight you will be dead. Then madam will banish every one from her + chamber, in inconsolable grief—lock the door—tap on the + window-pane—<i>he</i> will hear the signal, and come up the back + staircase—when madam will open the private door for him to come in + and take a look at your body! Do you understand now, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Remain here, Nighthawk. There is the step of the servant + coming to tell me tea is ready!’” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0125" id="link2H_4_0125"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. — THE CUP OF TEA. + </h2> + <p> + “The door opened as I uttered the words, and my old major-domo—gray + haired, and an heir-loom, so to say, of the family—bowed low, and + announced that tea was served and madam waiting. + </p> + <p> + “I rose and looked into the mirror above the fireplace. I was pale, but + not sufficiently so to excite suspicion; and with a smile which frightened + Nighthawk, took my way toward the supper-room. + </p> + <p> + “Madam was awaiting me, as I suspected, and I had never seen her look more + radiant. A single glance told me that she had made an elaborate toilet in + honor of—my funeral! Her dark hair was in shining braids; her eyes + sparkled with joy; her parted lips showed her white teeth;—the only + evidence I saw of concealed emotion was in the bloodless cheeks. They were + as white as the lace falling over her superb silk dress. + </p> + <p> + “‘You see you keep me waiting!’ she said, with playful <i>naiveté</i>, + ‘and your tea is growing cold, sir—which is worse for me than for + you, as you do not care, but I care for you!’ + </p> + <p> + “And as I passed her, she drew me playfully toward her, dragged me down, + and held up her lips. I touched them with my own; they were as cold as + ice, or the cheek my own face just touched in passing. I went to the + table; took my seat; and madam poured out the tea, with a covert glance + toward me. I was not looking at her, but I saw it. + </p> + <p> + “A moment afterward, the old waiter presented me the small gilt cup, + smoking, fragrant, and inviting. + </p> + <p> + “I took it, looking, as before, out of the corner of my eye at madam. She + was leaning forward, watching me with a face as pale as death. I could + hear her teeth chatter. + </p> + <p> + “I placed the cup to my lips;—her hand, holding a spoon, trembled so + that the spoon beat a tattoo on her saucer. She was watching me in + breathless suspense; and all at once I turned full toward her. + </p> + <p> + “‘The taste of this tea is singular,’ I said, ‘I should call it very bad.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, it is—excellent!’ she muttered, between her chattering teeth. + </p> + <p> + “‘The cup you send me is certainly wretched. Do me the <i>pleasure to + taste it, madam</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + “And depositing it upon the waiter of the old servant, I said:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Take this to your mistress.’ + </p> + <p> + “He did so; she just touched it with her lips, her hand trembling, then + replaced it upon the waiter. + </p> + <p> + “‘I perceive nothing disagreeable,’ she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “‘Swallow a mouthful,’ I said, with a bitter smile. + </p> + <p> + “She looked at me with sudden intentness. Her eyes, full of wild inquiry, + seemed attempting to read into my very soul. + </p> + <p> + “‘Perhaps you object to drinking after me, as the children say,’ I added—this + time with a species of sneer, and a flash of the eye, I think. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed, with an attempt to laugh; ‘and to show you—’ + </p> + <p> + “With a quick movement she attempted—as though by accident—to + strike the waiter with her elbow, in order to overturn the cup. + </p> + <p> + “But the old servant was too well trained. The lady’s elbow struck the + waiter, but the skilful attendant withdrew it quickly. Not a drop of the + tea was spilled. + </p> + <p> + “A moment afterward I was beside madam. + </p> + <p> + “‘I pray you to drink,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘I can not—I feel unwell,’ she murmured, cowering beneath the fire + in my eye. + </p> + <p> + “‘I beg you to drink from this cup.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I have told you—I will not.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I beseech you to humor me, madam. Else I shall regard you as a + murderess!’ + </p> + <p> + “She rose suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “‘Your meaning, sir!’ she exclaimed, as pale as death. + </p> + <p> + “I took the cup and poured the tea into a saucer. At the bottom was a + modicum of white powder, undissolved. I poured the tea into the cup again—then + a second time into the saucer. This time nothing remained—and I + proceeded to pour cream into the saucer, until it was filled. Madam + watched me with distended eyes, and trembling from head to foot. Then + suddenly she uttered a cry—a movement of mine had caused the cry. + </p> + <p> + “I had gone to the fire where a cat was reposing upon the rug, and placed + the saucer before her. In two minutes its contents had disappeared down + the throat of the cat. Five minutes afterward the animal was seized with + violent convulsions—uttered unearthly cries—tore the carpet + with its claws—glared around in a sort of despair—rolled on + its back, beat the air with its paws—and expired. + </p> + <p> + “I turned to madam, who was gazing at me with distended eyes, and pointing + to the cat, said:— + </p> + <p> + “‘See this unfortunate animal, madam! Her death is curious. She has died + in convulsions, in consequence of drinking a cup of tea!’” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0126" id="link2H_4_0126"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. — THE FOILS. + </h2> + <p> + “Up to this moment,” continued Mohun, “madam had exhibited every + indication of nervous excitement, and a sort of terror. Had that arisen + from a feeling of suspense, and the unexpected discovery of her intent by + the proposed victim? I know not; but now, when all was discovered, her + manner suddenly changed. + </p> + <p> + “She glared at me like a wild animal driven to bay. Her pearly teeth + closed upon her under lip until the blood started. Pallid, but defiant, + she uttered a low hoarse sound which resembled the growl of a tigress from + whom her prey has been snatched, and with a firm and haughty step left the + apartment, glaring over her shoulder at me to the last. + </p> + <p> + “Then her step was heard upon the great staircase; she slowly ascended to + her chamber; the door opened, then closed—and I sat down, overcome + for an instant by the terrible scene, within three paces of the dead + animal, destroyed by the poison intended for myself. + </p> + <p> + “This paralysis of mind lasted only for a moment, however. I rose coolly; + directed the old servant, who alone had witnessed the scene, to retire, + and carefully abstain from uttering a word of what had passed before him—then + I leaned upon the mantel-piece, reflected for five minutes—and in + that time I had formed my resolution. + </p> + <p> + “Mortimer was first to be thought of. I intended to put him to death first + and foremost. It would have been easy to have imitated the old seigneurs + of the feudal age, and ordered my retainers to assassinate him; but that + was repugnant to my whole character. It should never be said that a Mohun + had shrunk before his foe; that one of my family had delegated to another + the punishment of his enemy. I would fight Mortimer—meet him in fair + and open combat—if he killed me well and good. If not, I would kill + him. And it should not be with the pistol. I thirsted to meet him breast + to breast; to feel my weapon traverse his heart. To accomplish this was + not difficult. I had often heard Mortimer, when at the parsonage, boast of + his skill with the foils. I had a pair at hand. By breaking off the + buttons, and sharpening the points, I would secure two rude but excellent + rapiers, with which Mortimer and myself could settle our little + differences, after the fashion of gentlemen in former ages! As to the + place of combat,—anywhere—in the house, or a part of the + grounds around the mansion—it was unimportant I said, so that one of + us was killed. But a moment’s reflection induced me to change my views. + Under any circumstances <i>I</i> was going to die—that was true. My + character, however, must be thought of. It would not do to have a stain + rest on the last of the house of Mohun! Were I to kill Mortimer in the + house, or grounds, it would be said that I had murdered him, with the aid + of my servants—that I had drawn him thither to strike him—had + acted the traitor and the coward. ‘No,’ I said, ‘even in death I must + guard the family honor. This man must fall elsewhere—in some spot + far distant from this house—fall without witnesses—in silence—in + fair fight with me, no one even seeing us.’ + </p> + <p> + “I had formed this resolution in five minutes after the departure of madam + from the supper-room. I went straight to the library; calmly stated my + resolution to Nighthawk; and in spite of his most obstinate remonstrances, + and repeated refusals, broke down his opposition by sheer force of will. + It took me half an hour, but at the end of that time I had succeeded. + Nighthawk listened, with bent head, and pale face covered with drops of + cold perspiration, to my orders. These orders were to have the horses put + to the carriage, which was to be ready at my call; then to proceed with a + trusty servant, or more if necessary, to a private spot on the river, + which I described to him; dig a grave of full length and depth; and when + his work was finished, return and report the fact to me, cautioning the + servant or servants to say nothing. + </p> + <p> + “This work, I calculated, would be completed about midnight—and at + midnight I promised myself an interview with my friend Mortimer. + </p> + <p> + “Nighthawk groaned as he listened to my cold and resolute voice, giving + minute instructions for the work of darkness—looked at my face, to + discover if there were any signs of yielding there—doubtless saw + none whatever—and disappeared, uttering a groan, to carry out the + orders which he had received from me. + </p> + <p> + “Then I took the two foils from the top of the bookcase where they were + kept; broke off the buttons by placing my heel upon them; procured a file, + and sharpened the points until they would have penetrated through an + ordinary plank. That was sufficient, I said to myself—they would + pierce a man’s breast—and placing them on the buffet, I went to a + drawer and took out a loaded revolver, which I thrust into my breast. + </p> + <p> + “Two minutes afterward I had ascended to madam’s chamber, opened the door, + and entered.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0127" id="link2H_4_0127"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII. — WHILE WAITING FOR MIDNIGHT. + </h2> + <p> + “I did not arrive a moment too soon—in fact I came in the nick of + time. + </p> + <p> + “Madam had hastily collected watches, chains, breastpins, necklaces, and + all the money she could find; had thrust the whole into a jewel casket; + thrown her rich furs around her shoulders; and was hurrying toward the + door, in rear of the apartment which opened on the private staircase. + </p> + <p> + “She had not locked the main door of the apartment, doubtless fearing to + excite suspicion, or knowing I could easily break the hasp with a single + blow of my foot. She had plainly counted on my stupor of astonishment and + horror at her crime, and was now trying to escape. + </p> + <p> + “That did not suit my view, however. In two steps, I reached the private + door, turned the key, drew it from the lock, and placed it in my pocket. + </p> + <p> + “‘Sit down, madam,’ I said, ‘and do not be in such a hurry to desert your + dear husband. Let us talk for a few moments, at least, before you depart.’ + </p> + <p> + “She glared at me and sat down. She looked regal in her costly furs, + holding the casket, heaped with rich jewels. + </p> + <p> + “‘What is your programme, madam, if I may ask?’ I said, taking a chair + which stood opposite to her. + </p> + <p> + “‘To leave this house!’ she said, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah! you are tired of me, then?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I am sick of you!—have long been sick of you!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Indeed!’ I said. ‘That is curious! I thought our marriage was a love + affair, madam; at least you induced me to suppose so. What, then, has + suddenly changed your sentiments in my direction? Am I a monster? Have I + been cruel to you? Am I unworthy of you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I hate and despise you!’ + </p> + <p> + “It was the hoarse growl of a wild animal rather than the voice of a + woman. She was imperial at that moment—and I acknowledge, Surry, + that she was ‘game to the last!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah! you hate me, you despise me!’ I said. ‘I have had the misfortune to + incur madam’s displeasure! No more connubial happiness—no more + endearments and sweet confidences—no more loving words, and glances—no + more bliss!’ + </p> + <p> + “She continued to glare at me. + </p> + <p> + “‘I am unworthy of madam; I see that clearly,’ I went on. ‘I am only a + poor little, plain little, insignificant little country clodhopper! I am + nothing—a mere nobody,—while madam is—shall I tell you, + madam? While you are a convict—a bigamist,—and a poisoner! Are + you not?’ + </p> + <p> + “Her face became livid, but her defiant eyes never sank before my glance. + I really admired her, Surry. No woman was ever braver than that one. I had + supposed that these words would overwhelm her; that the discovery of my + acquaintance with her past life, and full knowledge of her attempted + crime, would crush her to the earth. Perhaps I had some remnant of pity + for this woman. If she had been submissive, repentant! but, instead of + submission and confusion, she exhibited greater defiance than before. In + the pale face her eyes burned like coals of fire—and it was rage + which inflamed them. + </p> + <p> + “‘So you have set your spies on me!’ she exclaimed, in accents of + inexpressible fury. ‘You are a chivalric gentleman, truly! You are worthy + of your boasted family! You pretend to love and confide in me—you + look at me with smiles and eyes of affection—and all the time you + are laying a trap for me—endeavoring to catch me and betray me! + Well, yes, sir! yes! What you have discovered through your spies is true. + I <i>was</i> tried and sentenced as a thief—I <i>was</i> married + when I first saw you—and it is this miserable creature, this + offscouring of the kennels, this thief, that has become <i>the wife</i> of + the proud Mr. Mohun—in the eyes of the world at least! I am so still—my + character is untainted—dare to expose me and have me punished, and + it is <i>your</i> proud name that will be tarnished! <i>your</i> grand + escutcheon that will be blotted! Come! arrest me, expose me, drag me to + justice! I will stand up in open court, and point my finger at you where + you stand cowering, in the midst of jeers and laughter, and say: “There is + Mr. Mohun, of the ancient family of the Mohuns,—he is the husband + and the dupe of a thief!”’ + </p> + <p> + “She was splendid as she uttered these words, Surry. They thrilled me, and + made my blood flame. I half rose, nearly beside myself—then I + resumed my seat and my coolness. A moment afterward I was as calm as I am + at this moment, and said, laughing:— + </p> + <p> + “‘So you have prepared that pretty little tableau, have you, madam? I + compliment you on your skill;—and even more on your nerve. But have + you not omitted one thing—a very trifling portion, it is true, of + the indictment to be framed against you? I refer to the little scene of + this evening, madam.’ + </p> + <p> + “Her teeth closed with a snap. Otherwise she exhibited no emotion. Her + flashing eyes continued to survey me with the former defiance. + </p> + <p> + “‘Is there not an additional clause in the said indictment, madam?’ I + calmly continued, ‘which the commonwealth’s attorney will perhaps rely on + more fully than upon all else in the document, to secure your conviction + and punishment? You are not only a bigamist and an ex-convict,—you + are also a poisoner, my dear madam, and may be hanged for that. Or, if not + hanged—there is that handsome white house at Richmond, the state + penitentiary. The least term which a jury can affix to your crime, will be + eighteen years, if you are not sent there for life! For life!—think + of that, madam. How very disagreeable it will be! Nothing around you but + blank walls; no associates but thieves and murderers—hard labor with + these pretty hands—a hard bed for this handsome body—coarse + and wretched food for these dainty red lips—the dress, the food, the + work, and the treatment of a convict! Disagreeable, is it not, madam? But + that is the least that a felon, convicted of an attempt to poison, can + expect! There is only one point which I have omitted, and which may count + for you. This life in prison will not be so hard to you—since your + ladyship has already served your apprenticeship among felons.’ + </p> + <p> + “The point at last was reached. Madam had listened with changing color, + and my words seemed to paint the frightful scene in all its horror. + Suddenly fury mastered her. She rose and seemed clutching at some weapon + to strike me. + </p> + <p> + “‘You are <i>a gentleman</i>! you insult a woman.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You are a poisoner, madam—you make tea for the gentleman!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You are a coward! do you hear? a coward!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I can not return, madam, the same reproach!’ I replied, rising and + bowing; ‘it required some courage to attempt to poison me upon the very + night of my wedding!’ + </p> + <p> + “My words drove her to frenzy. + </p> + <p> + “‘Beware!’ she exclaimed, taking a step toward me, and putting her hand + into her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “‘Beware!’ I said, with a laugh, ‘beware of what, my dear Madam Laffarge?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Of this!’ + </p> + <p> + “And with a movement as rapid as lightning she drew from her breast a + small silver-mounted pistol, which she aimed straight at my breast. + </p> + <p> + “I was not in a mood to care much for pistols, Surry. When a man is + engaged in a little affair like that, bullets lose their influence on the + nerves. + </p> + <p> + “‘That is a pretty toy!’ I said. ‘Where did you procure it madam, the + poisoner?’ + </p> + <p> + “With a face resembling rather a hideous mask than a human countenance, + she rushed upon me; placed the muzzle of the pistol on my very breast; and + drew the trigger. + </p> + <p> + “The weapon snapped. + </p> + <p> + “A moment afterward I had taken it from her hand and thrown it into a + corner. + </p> + <p> + “‘Very well done!’ I said. ‘What a pity that you use such indifferent + caps! Your pistol is as harmless as your tea!’ + </p> + <p> + “She uttered a hoarse cry, but did not recoil in the least, Surry! This + woman was a curiosity. Instead of retreating from me, she clenched her + small white hand, raised it above her head, and exclaimed:— + </p> + <p> + “‘If <i>he</i> only were here!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>He</i>, madam?’ I said. ‘You refer to your respected <i>brother</i>—to + Mr. Mortimer?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes! <i>he</i> would make you repent your cowardly outrages and + insults.’ + </p> + <p> + “I looked at my watch, it was just eleven. + </p> + <p> + “‘The hour is earlier than I thought, madam,’ I said, ‘but perhaps he has + already arrived.’ + </p> + <p> + “And advancing to the side of the lady, I took her arm, drew her toward + the window, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Why not give your friend the signal you have agreed on, madam?’ + </p> + <p> + “At a bound she reached the window, and struck a rapid series of blows + with her fingers upon the pane. + </p> + <p> + “Five minutes afterward a heavy step was heard ascending the private + staircase. I went to the door and unlocked it; the step approached—stopped + at the door—the door opened, and Mortimer appeared. + </p> + <p> + “‘Come in, my dear brother-in-law,’ I said, ‘we are waiting for you.’” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0128" id="link2H_4_0128"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII. — THE RESULT OF THE SIGNAL. + </h2> + <p> + “Mortimer recoiled as if a blow had been suddenly struck at him. His + astonishment was so comic that I began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “‘Good! you start!’ I said. ‘You thought I was dead by this time?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ he coolly replied. + </p> + <p> + “As he spoke, his hand stole under the cloak in which he was wrapped, and + I heard the click of a pistol as he cocked it. I drew my own weapon, + cocked it in turn, and placing the muzzle upon Mortimer’s breast, said:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Draw your pistol and you are dead!’ + </p> + <p> + “He looked at me with perfect coolness, mingled with a sort of curiosity. + I saw that he was a man of unfaltering courage, and that the instincts of + a gentleman had not entirely left him, soiled as he was with every crime. + His eye was calm and unshrinking. He did not move an inch when I placed my + pistol muzzle upon his breast. At the words which I uttered he withdrew + his hand from his cloak—he had returned the weapon to its place—and + with a penetrating glance, said:— + </p> + <p> + “‘What do you wish, sir; as you declare you await me?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ask madam,’ I said, ‘or rather exert your own ingenuity.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘My ingenuity?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘In guessing.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why not tell me?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘So be it. The matter is perfectly simple, sir. I wish to kill you, or + give you an opportunity to kill me—is that plain?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Quite so,’ replied Mortimer, without moving a muscle. + </p> + <p> + “‘I can understand, without further words, that all explanations and + discussions are wholly useless.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Wholly.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You wish to fight me,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘To put an end to me, if possible?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, I will give you that opportunity, sir, and, even return you my + thanks for not killing me on the spot.’ + </p> + <p> + “He paused a moment, and looked keenly at me. + </p> + <p> + “‘This whole affair is infamous,’ he said. ‘I knew that when I undertook + it. I was once a gentleman, and have not forgotten every thing I then + learned, whatever my practice may be. You have been tricked and deceived. + You have been made the victim of a disgraceful plot, and I was the author + of the whole affair; though this lady would, herself, have been equal to + that, or even more. You see I talk to you plainly, sir; I know a gentleman + when I see him, and you are one. I was formerly something of the same + sort, but having outlawed myself, went on in the career that brought me to + this. I was poor—am poor now. I originated the idea of this + pseudo-marriage, with a view to profit by it, but with no further—’ + </p> + <p> + “He suddenly paused and looked at the woman. Their glances in that moment + crossed like lightning. + </p> + <p> + “‘Speak out!’ she cried, ‘say plainly—’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Hush! I did not mean to—I am no coward, madam!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Say plainly that it was <i>I</i> who formed the design to get rid of + this person!’ + </p> + <p> + “And she pointed furiously at me. + </p> + <p> + “‘Let no scruples restrain you—take nothing upon yourself—it + was I, I!—I who planned his death!’ + </p> + <p> + “Mortimer remained for an instant silent. Then he resumed, in the same + measured voice as before:— + </p> + <p> + “‘You hear,’ he said. ‘I tried to shield her, to take the blame—meant + to give you no inkling of this—but she spoils all. To end this. I + have offered you a mortal insult—soiled an ancient and honorable + name—the last representative of the Mohuns has formed through me a + degrading connection. I acknowledge all that. I am going to try to kill + you, to bury every thing in the grave. I would have shrunk from + assassinating you, though I wish your death. You offer me honorable + combat, and you do me an honor, which I appreciate. Let us finish. The + place, time, and weapons?’ + </p> + <p> + “There was, then, something not altogether base in this man. I listened + with joy. I had expected to encounter a wretch without a single attribute + of the gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “‘You accept this honorable combat, then?’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘With thanks,’ he replied. + </p> + <p> + “‘You wish to fight as gentlemen fight?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You fence well?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes—but you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Sufficiently well.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Are you certain? I warn you I am excellent at the foils.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘They suit me—that is agreed on, then?’ + </p> + <p> + “He bowed, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes. And now, as to the place, the time, and every detail. All that I + leave to you.’ + </p> + <p> + “I bowed in turn. + </p> + <p> + “‘Then nothing will delay our affair. I have ordered a grave to be dug, in + a private spot, on the river. The foils are ready, with the buttons + broken, the points sharpened. The carriage has been ordered. A ride of + fifteen minutes will bring us to the grave, which is done by this time, + and we can settle our differences there, by moonlight, without witnesses + or interruption.’ + </p> + <p> + “Mortimer looked at me with a sinister smile. + </p> + <p> + “‘You are provident!’ he said, briefly. ‘I understand. The one who falls + will give no trouble. The grave will await him, and he can enter at once + upon his property!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And this lady?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘That will come afterward,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘If I kill you—?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘She is your property.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And if you kill me—?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘She is mine,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “The sinister smile again came to the dark features of Mortimer. + </p> + <p> + “‘So be it,’ he said, ‘and I am ready to accompany you, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “I drew my pistol and threw it upon the bed, looking at Mortimer as I did + so. He imitated me, and opening his coat, showed me that he was wholly + unarmed. I did the same, and having locked the private door leading to the + back staircase, led the way out, followed by Mortimer. He turned and + looked at madam as he passed through the door. She was erect, furious, + defiant, full of anticipated triumph. Was it a glance of gloomy compassion + and deep tenderness which Mortimer threw toward her? I thought I heard him + sigh. + </p> + <p> + “I locked the door, and we descended to the library.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0129" id="link2H_4_0129"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV. — WHAT TOOK PLACE IN FIFTY MINUTES. + </h2> + <p> + “As we entered the apartment, the clock on the mantel-piece struck + midnight. + </p> + <p> + “My body servant was within call, and I ordered my carriage, which + Nighthawk had been directed to have ready at a moment’s warning. + </p> + <p> + “In five minutes it was at the door, and I had just taken the two foils + under my arm, when I heard a step in the passage. A moment afterward, + Nighthawk entered. + </p> + <p> + “He was so pale that I scarcely recognized him. When his eyes encountered + Mortimer, they flashed lightnings of menace. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well?’ I said, in brief tones. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is ready, sir,’ Nighthawk replied, in a voice scarcely audible. I + looked at him imperiously. + </p> + <p> + “‘And the servants are warned to keep silent?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Very well. Remain here until I return,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “And I pointed to a seat, with a glance at Nighthawk, which said plainly + to him, ‘Do not presume to attempt to turn me from my present purpose—it + will be useless, and offensive to me.’ + </p> + <p> + “He groaned, and sat down in the seat I indicated. His frame was bent and + shrunken like that of an old man, in one evening. Since that moment, I + have loved Nighthawk, my dear Surry; and he deserves it. + </p> + <p> + “Without delay I led the way to the carriage, which was driven by my + father’s old gray-haired coachman, and entered it with Mortimer, directing + the driver to follow the high-road down the river. He did so; we rolled on + in the moonlight, or the shadow, as it came forth or disappeared behind + the drifting clouds. The air was intensely cold. From beyond the woods + came the hollow roar of the Nottoway, which was swollen by a freshet. + </p> + <p> + “Mortimer drew his cloak around him, but said nothing. In ten minutes I + called to the old coachman to stop. He checked his spirited horses—I + had some good ones then—and I descended from the carriage, with the + foils under my arm, followed by Mortimer. + </p> + <p> + “The old coachman looked on in astonishment. The spot at which I had + stopped the carriage was wild and dreary beyond expression. + </p> + <p> + “‘Shall I wait, sir?’ he said, respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “‘No; return home at once, and put away the carriage.’ + </p> + <p> + “He looked at me with a sort of stupor. + </p> + <p> + “‘Go home, sir?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And leave you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Obey me!’ + </p> + <p> + “My voice must have shown that remonstrance would be useless. My old + servitor uttered a sigh like the groan which had escaped from the lips of + Nighthawk, and, mounting the box, turned the heads of his horses toward + home. + </p> + <p> + “I watched the carriage until it turned a bend in the road, and then, + making a sign to Mortimer to follow me, led the way into the woods. + Pursuing a path which the moonlight just enabled me to perceive, I + penetrated the forest; went on for about ten minutes; and finally emerged + upon a plateau, in the swampy undergrowth near which stood the ruins of an + old chimney. + </p> + <p> + “This chimney had served to indicate the spot to Nighthawk; and, before + us, in the moonlight, was the evidence that he had found it. In the centre + of the plateau was a newly dug grave—and in front of it I paused. + </p> + <p> + “‘We have arrived,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “Mortimer gazed at the grave with a grim smile. + </p> + <p> + “‘That is a dreary and desolate object,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “‘It will soon be inhabited,’ I returned; ‘and the issue of this combat is + indifferent to me, since in either event I shall be dead.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah!’ he exclaimed, ‘explain that.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Then you do not understand! You think this duel will end every thing? + You deceive yourself! A family history like mine does not terminate with a + duel. Have you read those tragedies where everybody is killed?—where + not a single one of the <i>dramatis personae</i> escapes? Well, this is + going to be a drama of that exact description. Do you wish to save that + woman, yonder? To do so, you must kill <i>me</i>. I tell you that to warn + you to do your best, sir!’ + </p> + <p> + “Mortimer glared at me. It is hard to imagine a glance more sinister. + </p> + <p> + “‘So you have arranged the whole affair?’ he said; ‘there is to be a + wholesale killing.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You are going to kill—<i>her</i>?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yourself, too?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + “Mortimer’s smile became more sinister, as he raised his foil. + </p> + <p> + “‘Take your position, sir,’ he said; ‘I am going to save you the latter + trouble.’ + </p> + <p> + “I grasped my weapon, and placed myself on guard. + </p> + <p> + “In an instant he had thrown himself upon me with a fury which indicated + the profound passion under his assumed coolness. His eyes blazed; his lips + writhed into something like a deadly grin; I felt that I had to contend + rather with a wild animal than a man. The grave yawned in the moonlight at + our very feet, and Mortimer closed in, with fury, endeavoring to force me + to its brink, and hurl me into it. + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes afterward the combat was over; and it was Mortimer who + occupied the grave. + </p> + <p> + “He had given ground an instant, to breathe; had returned to the attack + more furiously than before; a tremendous blow of his weapon snapped my + own, eighteen inches from the hilt; but this had probably saved my life + instead of destroying it, as Mortimer, from his fierce exclamation as the + blade broke, evidently expected. + </p> + <p> + “Before he could take advantage of his success, I sprang at his throat, + grasped his sword-arm with my left hand, and, shortening my stump of a + weapon, drove the point through his breast. + </p> + <p> + “He uttered a cry, staggered, and threw up his hands; I released my clutch + on his arm; and he fell heavily backward into the grave. + </p> + <p> + “‘Now to end all,’ I said, and I set out rapidly for Fonthill.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0130" id="link2H_4_0130"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV. — GOING TO REJOIN MORTIMER. + </h2> + <p> + “I had not gone a hundred yards, when I heard the sound of wheels + approaching. + </p> + <p> + “I had said to myself, ‘I am going back to madam; she will hear my + footsteps upon the staircase; will open the door; will rush forward to + embrace me, under the impression that I am her dear Mortimer, returning + triumphant from the field of battle; and then a grand tableau!’ Things + were destined to turn out differently, as you will see in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “The sound of wheels grew louder; a carriage appeared; and I recognized my + own chariot. + </p> + <p> + “‘Why have you disobeyed my orders?’ I said to the old gray-haired driver, + arresting the horses as I spoke, by violently grasping the bridles. + </p> + <p> + “The old coachman looked frightened. Then he said, in an agitated voice:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Madam ordered me to obey her, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Madam?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Where is she?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘In the carriage, sir. As soon as I got back, she came down to the door—ordered + me to drive her to <i>you</i>—and I was obliged to do so, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Good,’ I said, ‘you have done well.’ + </p> + <p> + And opening the door of the carriage, through the glass of which I saw the + pale face of the woman, I entered it, directing the coachman to drive to + the ‘Hicksford Crossing.’ + </p> + <p> + A hoarse, but defiant voice at my side said:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Where is Mr. Mortimer?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Gone over the river,’ I said, laughing, ‘and we are going, too.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘To rejoin him?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, madam.’ + </p> + <p> + “The carriage had rolled on, and as it passed the grave I heard a groan. + </p> + <p> + “‘What is that?’ said she. + </p> + <p> + “‘The river is groaning over yonder, madam.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You will not attempt to pass it to-night?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, madam. Are you afraid?’ + </p> + <p> + “She looked at me with fiery eyes. + </p> + <p> + “‘Afraid? No!’ she said, ‘I am afraid of nothing!’ + </p> + <p> + “I really admired her at that moment. She was truly brave. I said nothing, + however. The carriage rolled on, and ten minutes afterward the roar of the + river, now near at hand, was heard. That sound mingled with the deep + bellowing of the thunder, which succeeded the dazzling flashes at every + instant dividing the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “All at once my companion said:— + </p> + <p> + “‘I am tired of this—where is Mr. Mortimer?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He awaits us,’ I replied. + </p> + <p> + “‘You are going to him?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + “We had reached the bank of the river, and, stopping the carriage, I + sprung out. Madam followed me, without being invited. A small boat rose + and fell on the swollen current. I detached the chain, seized a paddle, + and pointed to the stern seat. + </p> + <p> + “‘The river is dangerous to-night,’ said madam, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “‘Then you are afraid, after all?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No!’ she said. + </p> + <p> + “And with a firm step she entered the boat. + </p> + <p> + “‘Go back with the carriage,’ I said to the driver. He turned the heads of + the horses, and obeyed in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Madam had taken her seat in the stern of the boat. I pushed from shore + into the current, and paddling rapidly to the middle of the foaming + torrent, filled with drift-wood, threw the paddle overboard, and took my + seat in the stern. + </p> + <p> + “As I threw away the paddle, my resolution seemed to dawn for the first + time upon my companion. She had become deadly pale, but said nothing. With + folded arms, I looked and listened; we were nearing a narrow and + rock-studded point in the river, where there was no hope. + </p> + <p> + “The frail boat was going to be overturned there, or dashed to pieces + without mercy. I knew the spot—knew that there was no hope. The + torrent was roaring and driving the boat like a leaf toward the jagged and + fatal rocks. + </p> + <p> + “‘Then you are going to kill me and yourself at the same time!’ she said. + </p> + <p> + “The woman was fearless. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it is the only way. I could not live dishonored—you + dishonored me—I die—and die with you!’ + </p> + <p> + “And I rose erect, baring my forehead to the lightning. + </p> + <p> + “The point was reached. The boat swept on with the speed of a racehorse. A + dazzling flash showed a dark object amid the foam, right ahead of us. The + boat rushed toward it—the jagged teeth seemed grinning at us—the + boat struck—and the next moment I felt the torrent sweep over me, + roaring furious and sombre, like a wild beast that has caught its prey.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0131" id="link2H_4_0131"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI. — AFTERWARD. + </h2> + <p> + “When I opened my eyes, the sun was shining in my face. + </p> + <p> + “I was lying on a mass of drift-wood, caught by a ledge of rock, jutting + out into the river. I had apparently been hurled there, by the force of + the current, stunned and bruised; the sunshine had aroused me, bringing me + back to that life which was a burden and a mockery. + </p> + <p> + “And where was <i>she</i>? I shuddered as I asked myself that question. + Had she been thrown from the boat? Had it been overturned? Was she + drowned? I closed my eyes with a shudder which traversed my body, chilling + my blood as with the cold hand of death. + </p> + <p> + “For a moment I thought of throwing myself into the river, and thus ending + all my woes. But I was too cowardly. + </p> + <p> + “I turned toward the shore, groaning; dragged my bruised and aching limbs + along the ledge of jagged rocks, through the masses of drift-wood; and + finally reached the shore, where I sank down exhausted, and ready to die. + </p> + <p> + “I will not lengthen out the gloomy picture. At last I rose, looked + around, and with bent head and cowering frame, stole away through the + woods toward Fonthill. On my way, I passed within two hundred yards of <i>the + grave</i>—but I dared not go thither. He was dead, doubtless—and + he had been slain in fair combat! It was another form that haunted me—the + form of a woman—one who had dishonored me—attempted to poison + me—a terrible being—but still a woman; and I had—murdered + her! + </p> + <p> + “I reached home an hour or two afterward. Nighthawk was sitting in the + library, pale, and haggard, watching for me. + </p> + <p> + “As I entered, he rose with an exclamation, extending his arms toward me, + with an indescribable expression of joy. + </p> + <p> + “I shrunk back, refusing his hand. + </p> + <p> + “‘Do not touch that,’ I groaned, ‘there is blood on it!’ + </p> + <p> + “He seized it, and kneeling down, kissed it. + </p> + <p> + “‘Bloody or not, it is <i>your</i> hand—the hand of my dear young + master!’ + </p> + <p> + “And the honest fellow burst into tears, as he covered my hand with + kisses. + </p> + <p> + “A month afterward, I was in Europe, amid the whirl and noise of Paris. I + tried to forget that I was a murderer—but the shadow went with me!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0132" id="link2H_4_0132"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII. — MOHUN TERMINATES HIS NARRATIVE. + </h2> + <p> + Mohun had spoken throughout the earlier portions of his narrative in a + tone of cynical bitterness. His last words were mingled, however, with + weary sighs, and his face wore an expression of the profoundest + melancholy. + </p> + <p> + The burnt-out cigar had fallen from his fingers to the floor; he leaned + back languidly in his great arm-chair: with eyes fixed upon the dying + fire, he seemed to go back in memory to the terrible scenes just + described, living over again all those harsh and conflicting emotions. + </p> + <p> + “So it ended, Surry,” he said, after a long pause. “Such was the frightful + gulf into which the devil and my own passions pushed me, in that month of + December, 1856. A hand as irresistible and inexorable as the Greek + Necessity had led me step by step to murder—in intent if not in fact—and + for years the shadow of the crime which I believed I had committed, made + my life wretched. I wandered over Europe, plunged into a thousand scenes + of turmoil and excitement—it was all useless—still the shadow + went with me. Crime is a terrible companion to have ever at your elbow. + The <i>Atra cura</i> of the poet is nothing to it, friend! It is a fiend + which will not be driven away. It grins, and gibbers, and utters its + gibes, day and night. Believe me, Surry,—I speak from experience—it + is better for this world, as well as the next, to be a boor, a peasant, a + clodhopper with a clear conscience, than to hold in your hand the means of + all luxury, and so-called enjoyment, and, with it, the consciousness that + you are blood guilty under almost any circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “Some men might have derived comfort from the circumstances of <i>that</i> + crime. I could not. They might have said, ‘I was goaded, stung, driven, + outraged, tempted beyond my strength, caught in a net of fire, from which + there was but one method of exit—to burst out, trampling down every + thing.’ Four words silenced all that sophistry—‘She was a woman!’ It + was the face of that woman, as I saw it last on that stormy night by the + lightning flashes, which drove me to despair. I, the son of the pure + gentleman whose portrait is yonder—I, the representative of the + Mohuns, a family which had acted in all generations according to the + dictates of the loftiest honor—I, had put to death a woman, and that + thought spurred me to madness! + </p> + <p> + “Of <i>his</i> death I did not think in the same manner. I had slain him + in fair combat, body to body—and, however the law of God may + stigmatize homicide, there was still that enormous difference. I had + played my life against his, as it were—he had lost, and he paid the + forfeit. But <i>the other</i> was <i>murdered</i>! That fact stared me in + the face. She had dishonored me; tricked me; attempted to poison, and then + shoot me. <i>She</i> had designed to murder <i>me</i>, and had set about + her design deliberately, coolly, without provocation, impelled by the lust + of gold only. She deserved punishment, but—she was a woman! I had + not said ‘Go!’ either, in pointing to the gloomy path to death. I had said + ‘Come!’—had meant to die too. I had not shrunk from the torrent in + which I had resolved she should be borne away. I had gone into the boat + with her; accompanied her on her way; devoted myself, too, to death, at + the same moment. But all was useless. I said to myself a thousand times—‘at + least they can not say that I was a coward, as well as a murderer. The + last of the Mohuns may have blackened his escutcheon with the crime of + murder—but at least he did not spare <i>himself</i>; he faced death + with his victim.’ Useless, Surry—all useless! The inexorable Voice + with which I fenced, had only one reply—one lunge—‘She was a + woman!’ and the words pierced me like a sword-blade! + </p> + <p> + “Let me end this, but not before I say that the dreadful Voice was <i>right</i>. + As to the combat with Mortimer, I shall express no opinion. You know the + facts, and will judge me. But the other act was a deadly crime. Gloss it + over as you may, you can never justify murder. Use all the special + pleading possible, and the frightful deed is still as black in the eyes of + God and man as before. I saw that soon; saw it always; see it to-day; and + pray God in his infinite mercy to blot out that crime from his book—to + pardon the poor weak creature who was driven to madness, and attempted to + commit that deadly sin. + </p> + <p> + “Well, to end my long history. I remained in Europe until the news from + America indicated the approach of war—Nighthawk managing my estate, + and remitting me the proceeds at Paris. When I saw that an armed collision + was going to take place, I hastened back, reaching Virginia in the winter + of 1860. But I did not come to Fonthill. I had a horror of the place. From + New York, where I landed, I proceeded to Montgomery, without stopping upon + the route; found there a prominent friend of my father who was raising a + brigade in the Southwest; was invited by him to aid him; and soon + afterward was elected to the command of a company of cavalry by his + recommendation. I need only add, that I rose gradually from captain to + colonel, which rank I held in 1863, when we first met on the Rappahannock—my + regiment having been transferred to a brigade of General Lee’s cavalry. + </p> + <p> + “You saw me then, and remember my bitterness and melancholy. But you had + no opportunity to descry the depth and intensity of those sentiments in + me. Suddenly the load was lifted. <i>That woman</i> made her appearance, + as if from the grave, and you must have witnessed my wonder, as my eyes + fell upon her. Then, she was not dead after all! I was not a murderer! And + to complete the wonder, <i>he</i> was also alive. A man passing along the + bank of the river, as I discovered afterward from Nighthawk, who ferreted + out the whole affair—a man named Swartz, a sort of poor farmer and + huckster, passing along the Nottoway, on the morning after the storm, had + found the woman cast ashore, with the boat overturned near her; and a mile + farther, had found Mortimer, not yet dead, in the grave. Succored by + Swartz, they had both recovered—had then disappeared. I was to meet + them again, and know of their existence only when the chance of war threw + us face to face on the field. + </p> + <p> + “You know the scenes which followed. Mortimer, or Darke, as he now calls + himself, confronted me everywhere, and <i>she</i> seemed to have no object + in life but my destruction. You heard her boast in the house near Buckland + that she had thrice attempted to assassinate me by means of her tool, the + man Swartz. Again, at Warrenton, in the hospital, she came near poniarding + me with her own hand. Nighthawk, who had followed me to the field, and + become a secret agent of General Stuart, warned me of all this—and + one day, gave me information more startling still. And this brings me, my + dear Surry, to the last point in my narrative, I now enter upon matter + with which you have been personally ‘mixed up.’ + </p> + <p> + “On that night when I attacked Darke in his house in Pennsylvania, Swartz + stole a paper from madam—the certificate of her marriage with Mr. + Mortimer-Darke, or Darke-Mortimer. The object of Swartz was, to sell the + paper to me for a large sum, as he had gotten an inkling of the state of + affairs, and my relation with madam. Well, Nighthawk reported this + immediately, made an appointment to meet Swartz in the Wilderness, and + many times afterward attempted to gain possession of the paper, which + Swartz swore was a <i>bona fide</i> certificate of the marriage of these + two persons <i>before the year</i> 1856, when I first met them. + </p> + <p> + “You, doubtless, understand now, my dear Surry, my great anxiety to gain + possession of that paper. Or, if you do not, I have only to state one fact—that + will explain all. I am engaged to be married to Miss Conway, and am + naturally anxious to have the proof in my possession that I have not <i>one + wife</i> yet living! I know <i>that woman</i> well. She will stop at + nothing. The rumor that I am about to become the happy husband of a young + lady whom I love, has driven madam nearly frantic, and she has already + shown her willingness to stop at nothing, by imprisoning Swartz, and + starving him until he produced the stolen paper. Swartz is dead, however; + the paper is lost; I and madam are both in hot pursuit of the document. + Which will find it, I know not. She, of course, wishes to suppress it—I + wish to possess it. Where is it? If you will tell me, friend, I will make + you a deed for half my estate! You have been with me to visit that strange + woman, Amanda, as a forlorn hope. What will come I know not; but I trust + that an all-merciful Providence will not withdraw its hand from me, and + now dash all my hopes, at the very moment when the cup is raised to my + lips! If so, I will accept all, submissively, as the just punishment of my + great crime—a crime, I pray God to pardon me, as the result of mad + desperation, and not as a wanton and wilful defiance of His Almighty + authority! I have wept tears of blood for that act. I have turned and + tossed on my bed, in the dark hours of night, groaning and pleading for + pardon. I have bitterly expiated throughout long years, that brief + tragedy. I have humbled myself in the dust before the Lord of all worlds, + and, falling at the feet of the all-merciful Saviour, besought His divine + compassion. I am proud—no man was ever prouder—but I have + bowed my forehead to the dust, and if the Almighty now denies me the + supreme consolation of this pure girl’s affection,—if loving her as + I do, and beloved by her, as I may venture to tell you, friend, I am to + see myself thrust back from this future—then, Surry, I will give the + last proof of my submission: I will bow down my head, and say ‘Thy will, + not mine, Lord, be done!’” + </p> + <p> + Mohun’s head sank as he uttered the words. To the proud face came an + expression of deep solemnity and touching sweetness. The firm lips were + relaxed—the piercing eyes had become soft. Mohun was greater in his + weakness than he had ever been in his strength. + </p> + <p> + When an hour afterward we had mounted our horses, and were riding back + slowly through the night, I said, looking at him by the dim starlight:— + </p> + <p> + “This is no longer a gay young cavalryman—a mere thoughtless youth—but + a patriot, fit to live or die with Lee!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0133" id="link2H_4_0133"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK V. — THE DEAD GO FAST. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0134" id="link2H_4_0134"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. — THE “DOOMED CITY” IN PROFILE—DECEMBER, 1864. + </h2> + <p> + The scenes just described took place in the month of November. In December + I obtained the priceless boon of a few days’ leave of absence, and paid a + visit to Richmond. + </p> + <p> + There was little there of a cheerful character; all was sombre and + lugubrious. In the “doomed city,” as throughout the whole country, all + things were going to wreck and ruin. During the summer and autumn, + suffering had oppressed the whole community; but now misery clutched the + very heartstrings. Society had been convulsed—now, all the landmarks + of the past seemed about to disappear in the deluge. Richmond presented + the appearance, and lived after the manner, of a besieged city, as General + Grant called it. It no longer bore the least likeness to its former + peaceful and orderly self. The military police had usurped the functions + of the civil, and the change was for the worse. Garroters swarmed the + streets of the city after dark. House-breakers everywhere carried on their + busy occupation. Nothing was safe from these prowlers of the night; all + was fish for their nets. The old clothes in rags and bales; the broken + china and worn spoons; the very food, obtained through immense exertions + by some father to feed his children—all became the spoil of these + night-birds, who were ever on the watch. When you went to make a visit in + the evening, you took your hat and cloak with you into the drawing-room, + to have them under your eye. When you retired at night, you deposited your + watch and purse under your pillow. At the hotels, you never thought of + placing your boots outside the door; and the landlords, in the morning, + carefully looked to see if the towels, or the blankets of the beds had + been stolen. All things were thus unhinged. Misery had let loose upon the + community all the outlaws of civilization; the scum and dregs of society + had come to the top, and floated on the surface in the sunlight. + </p> + <p> + The old respectable population of the old respectable city had + disappeared, it seemed. The old respectable habitudes had fallen into + contempt. Gambling-houses swarmed everywhere; and the military police + ignored them. “The very large number of houses,” said a contemporary + journal, “on Main and other streets, which have numbers painted in large + gilt figures over the door, and illuminated at night, are faro banks. The + fact is not known to the public. The very large numbers of flashily + dressed young men, with villainous faces, who hang about the street + corners in the daytime, are not gamblers, garroters, and plugs, but young + men studying for the ministry, and therefore exempt from military duty. + This fact is not known to General Winder.” The quiet and orderly city had, + in a word, become the haunt of burglars, gamblers, adventurers, + blockade-runners. The city, once the resort of the most elegant society in + Virginia, had been changed by war and misery into a strange chaotic + caravanserai, where you looked with astonishment on the faces going and + coming, without knowing in the least “who was who,” or whether your + acquaintance was an honest man or a scoundrel. The scoundrels dressed in + excellent clothes, and smiled and bowed when you met them; it was nearly + the sole means of identifying them, at an epoch, when virtue almost always + went in rags. + </p> + <p> + The era of “social unrealities,” to use the trenchant phrase of Daniel, + had come. Even braid on sleeves and collars did not tell you much. Who was + the fine-looking Colonel Blank, or the martial General Asterisks? Was he a + gentleman or a barber’s boy—an F.F. somewhere, or an exdrayman? The + general and colonel dressed richly; lived at the “Spottswood;” scowled on + the common people; and talked magnificently. It was only when some young + lady linked her destiny to his, that she found herself united to quite a + surprising helpmate—discovered that the general or the colonel had + issued from the shambles or the gutter. + </p> + <p> + Better society was not wanting; but it remained largely in the background. + Vice was strutting in cloth of gold; virtue was at home mending its rags. + Every expedient was resorted to, not so much to keep up appearances as to + keep the wolf from the door. Servants were sent around by high-born ladies + to sell, anonymously, baskets of their clothes. The silk or velvet of old + days was now parted with for bread. On the shelves of the bookstores were + valuable private libraries, placed there for sale. In the shops of the + silversmiths were seen breastpins, watches, bracelets, pearl and diamond + necklaces, which their owners were obliged to part with for bread. “Could + we have traced,” says a late writer, “the history of a set of pearls, we + should have been told of a fair bride, who had received them from a proud + and happy bridegroom; but whose life had been blighted in her youthful + happiness by the cruel blast of war—whose young husband was in the + service of his country—to whom stark poverty had continued to come, + until at last the wedding present from the dear one, went to purchase food + and raiment... A richly bound volume of poems, with here and there a faint + pencil-marked quotation, told perchance of a lover perished on some bloody + field; and the precious token was disposed of, or pawned, when bread was + at last needed for some suffering loved one.” + </p> + <p> + You can see these poor women—can you not, reader? The bride looking + at her pearl necklace, with flushed cheeks and eyes full of tears, + murmuring:—“<i>He</i> gave me this—placed it around my neck on + my wedding day—and I must <i>sell</i> it!” You can see too, the fair + girl, bending down and dropping tears on the page marked by her dead + lover; her bosom heaving, her heart breaking, her lips whispering:—“<i>His</i> + hand touched this—we read this page together—I hear his voice—see + his smile—this book brings back all to me—and now, I must go + and sell it, to buy bread for my little sister and brother, who are + starving!” + </p> + <p> + That is dolorous, is it not, reader?—and strikes you to the heart. + It is not fancy. December, 1864, saw that, and more, in Virginia. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0135" id="link2H_4_0135"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. — THE MEN WHO RUINED THE CONFEDERACY. + </h2> + <p> + In the streets of Richmond, crowded with uniforms, in spite of the + patrols, marching to and fro, and examining “papers,” I met a number of + old acquaintances, and saw numerous familiar faces. + </p> + <p> + The “Spottswood” was the resort of the <i>militaires</i>, and the moneyed + people. Here, captains and colonels were elbowed by messieurs the + blockade-runners, and mysterious government employees—employed, as I + said on a former occasion, in heaven knows what. The officer stalked by in + his braid. The “Trochilus” passed, smiling, in shiny broadcloth. Listen! + yonder is the newsboy, shouting, “The <i>Examiner</i>!”—that is to + say, the accurate photograph of this shifting chaos, where nothing seems + stationary long enough to have its picture taken. + </p> + <p> + Among the first to squeeze my hand, with winning smiles and cordial + welcome, was my friend Mr. Blocque. He was clad more richly than before; + smiled more sweetly than ever; seemed more prosperous, better satisfied, + firmer in his conviction than ever that the President and the + administration had never committed a fault—that the world of + December, 1864, was the best of all possible worlds. + </p> + <p> + “My dear colonel!” exclaimed Mr. Pangloss-Trochilus, <i>alias</i> Mr. + Blocque, “delighted to see you, I assure you! You are well? You will dine + with me, to-day? At five precisely? You will find the old company—jolly + companions, every one! We meet and talk of the affairs of the country. All + is going on well, colonel. Our city is quiet and orderly. The government + sees farther than its assailants. It can not explain now, and set itself + right in the eyes of the people—that would reveal military secrets + to the enemy, you know. I tell my friends in the departments not to mind + their assailants. Washington himself was maligned, but he preserved a + dignified silence. All is well, colonel! I give you my word, we are all + right! I know a thing or two—!” and Mr. Blocque looked mysterious. + “I have friends in high quarters, and you can rely on my statement. Lee is + going to whip Grant. The people are rallying to the flag. The finances are + improving. The resources of the country are untouched. A little patience—only + a <i>very</i> little patience! I tell my friends. Let us only endure + trials and hardships with brave hearts. Let us not murmur at dry bread, + colonel—let us cheerfully dress in rags—let us deny ourselves + every thing, sacrifice every thing to the cause, cast away all + superfluities, shoulder our muskets, and fight to the death! Then there <i>can</i> + be no doubt of the result, colonel—good morning!” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Blocque shook my hand cordially, gliding away in his shiny + broadcloth, at the moment when Mr. Croker, catching my eye in passing, + stopped to speak to me. + </p> + <p> + “You visit Richmond at an inauspicious moment, colonel,” said Mr. Croker, + jingling his watch-seals with dignity. “The country has at last reached a + point from which ruin is apparent in no very distant perspective, and when + the hearts of the most resolute, in view of the depressing influences of + the situation, are well nigh tempted to surrender every anticipation of + ultimate success in the great cause which absorbs the energies of the + entire country—hem!—at large. The cause of every trouble is so + plain, that it would be insulting your good judgment to dwell upon the + explanation. The administration has persistently disregarded the wishes of + the people, and the best interests of the entire community; and we have at + last reached a point where to stand still is as ruinous as to go on—as + we are going—to certain destruction and annihilation. Look at the + finances, entirely destroyed by the bungling and injudicious course of the + honorable Mr. Memminger, who has proceeded upon fallacies which the + youngest tyro would disdain to refute. Look at the quartermaster’s + department,—the commissary department,—the State department, + and the war department, and you will everywhere find the proofs of utter + incompetence, leading straight, as I have before remarked, to that ruin + which is pending at the present moment over the country. Our society is + uprooted, and there is no hope for the country. Blockade-runners, + forestallers, stragglers from the army—Good morning, Colonel + Desperade; I was just speaking to our friend, Colonel Surry.” + </p> + <p> + And leaving me in the hands of the tall, smiling, and imposing Colonel + Desperade, who was clad in a magnificent uniform, Mr. Croker, forestaller + and extortioner, continued his way with dignity toward his counting house. + </p> + <p> + “This is a very great pleasure, colonel!” exclaimed Colonel Desperade, + squeezing my hand with ardor. “Just from the lines, colonel? Any news? We + are still keeping Grant off! He will find himself checkmated by our boys + in gray! The country was never in better trim for a good hard fight. The + immortal Lee is in fine spirits—the government steadily at work—and + do you know, my dear Colonel, I am in luck to-day? I am certain to receive + my appointment at last, as brigadier-general—” + </p> + <p> + “Look out, or you’ll be mistaken!” said a sarcastic voice behind us. And + Mr. Torpedo, smoking a short and fiery cigar, stalked up and shook hands + with me. + </p> + <p> + “Desperade depends on the war department, and is a ninny for doing so!” + said Mr. Torpedo, member of Congress. “The man that depends on Jeff Davis, + or his war secretary, is a double-distilled dolt. Jeff thinks he’s a + soldier, and apes Napoleon. But you can’t depend on him, Desperade. Look + at Johnston! He fooled <i>him</i>. Look at Beauregard—he envies and + fears <i>him</i>, so he keeps him down. Don’t depend on the President, + Desperade, or you’ll be a fool, my friend!” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Torpedo walked on, puffing away at the fiery stump of his cigar, + and muttering curses against President Davis. + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward, I was conversing in the rotunda of the capÃtol, with + the high-bred and smiling old cavalier, Judge Conway, and he was saying to + me:— + </p> + <p> + “The times are dark, colonel, I acknowledge that. But all would be well, + if we could eradicate abuses and bring out our strength. A fatality, + however, seems pursuing us. The blockade-runners drain the country of the + little gold which is left in it; the forestallers run up prices, and + debase the currency beyond hope; the able-bodied and healthy men who ought + to be in the army, swarm in the streets; and the bitter foes of the + President poison the public mind, and infuse into it despair. It is this, + colonel, not our weakness, which is going to ruin us, if we are ruined!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0136" id="link2H_4_0136"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. — MY LAST VISIT TO JOHN M. DANIEL. + </h2> + <p> + On the night before my return to the army, I paid my last visit to John M. + Daniel. + </p> + <p> + Shall I show you a great career, shipwrecked—paint a mighty ship run + upon the breakers? The current of our narrative drags us toward passionate + and tragic events, but toward few scenes more sombre than that which I + witnessed on this night in December, 1864. + </p> + <p> + I found John M. Daniel in his house on Broad Street, as before; perched + still in his high chair of black horse-hair, all alone. His face was + thinner; his cheeks more sallow, and now haggard and sunken; his eyes + sparkling with gloomy fire, as he half reclined beneath the cluster of + globe lamps, depending from the ceiling, and filling the whole apartment + with their brilliant light—one of his weaknesses. + </p> + <p> + He received me with grim cordiality, offered me a cigar, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see you, colonel, and to offer you one of the last of my + stock of Havanas. Wilmington is going soon—then good-bye to blockade + goods.” + </p> + <p> + “You believe Wilmington is going to fall, then?” + </p> + <p> + “As surely as Savannah.” + </p> + <p> + “Savannah! You think that? We are more hopeful at Petersburg.” + </p> + <p> + “Hopeful or not, colonel, I am certain of what I say. Remember my + prediction when it is fulfilled. The Yankees are a theatrical people. They + take Vicksburg, and win Gettysburg, on their ‘great national anniversary;’ + and now they are going to present themselves with a handsome ‘Christmas + gift’—that is the city of Savannah.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with evident difficulty, and his laboring voice, like his haggard + cheeks, showed that he had been ill since I last saw him. + </p> + <p> + “Savannah captured, or surrendered!” I said, with knit brows. “What will + be the result of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Ruin,” was the curt response. + </p> + <p> + “Not the loss of a mere town?” + </p> + <p> + “No; the place itself is nothing. For Sherman to take it will not benefit + him much; but it will prove to the country, and the President, that he is + irresistible. Then they will <i>hack</i>; and you will see the beginning + of the end.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a gloomy view enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—every thing is gloomy now. The devil of high-headed obstinacy + and incompetence rules affairs. I do not croak in the <i>Examiner</i> + newspaper. But we are going straight to the devil.” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered these words, he placed his hand upon his breast, and closed + his eyes, as though he were going to faint. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” I exclaimed, rising abruptly, and approaching him. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” he replied, in a weak voice; “don’t disturb yourself about me. + These fits of faintness come on, now and then, in consequence of an attack + of pneumonia which I had lately. Sit down, colonel. You must really pardon + me for saying it, but you make me nervous.” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing in the tone of this singular address to take offence at,—the + voice of the speaker was perfectly courteous,—and I resumed my seat. + </p> + <p> + “We were talking about Sherman,” he said. “They call him Gog, Magog, + anti-Christ, I know not what, in the clerical circles of this city!” + </p> + <p> + His lip curled as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “One reverend divine publicly declared the other day, that ‘God had put a + hook in Sherman’s nose, and was leading him to his destruction!’ I don’t + think it looks much like it!” + </p> + <p> + The speaker was stopped by a fit of coughing, and when it had subsided, + leaned back, faint and exhausted, in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is—Sherman—” he said, with difficulty, “seems to + have—the hook in—<i>our</i> nose!” + </p> + <p> + There was something grim and lugubrious in the smile which accompanied the + painfully uttered words. A long silence followed them, which was broken by + neither of us. At last I raised my head, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “I find you less hopeful than last summer. At that time you were in good + spirits, and the tone of the <i>Examiner</i> was buoyant.” + </p> + <p> + “It is hopeful still,” he replied, “but by an effort—from a + sentiment of duty. I often write far more cheerfully than I feel, + colonel."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + “Your views have changed, I perceive—but you change with the whole + country.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. A whole century has passed since last August, when you visited me + here. One by one, we have lost all that the country could depend on—hope + goes last. For myself, I began to doubt when Jackson fell at + Chancellorsville, and I have been doubting, more or less, ever since. He + was <i>a dominant man</i>, colonel, fit, <i>if any thing happened</i>, to + rise to the head of affairs.{1} Oh! for an hour of Jackson! Oh! for a day + of our dead Dundee!”{2} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 2: His words.} + </p> + <p> + The face of the speaker glowed, and I shall never forget the flash of his + dark eye, as he uttered the words, “if any thing happened.” There was a + whole volume of menace to President Davis in those words. + </p> + <p> + “But this is useless!” he went on; “Jackson is dead, and there is none to + take his place. So, without leaders, with every sort of incompetence, with + obstinacy and stupidity directing the public councils, and shaping the + acts of the administration, we are gliding straight into the gulf of + destruction.” + </p> + <p> + I could make no reply. The words of this singular man and profound + thinker, affected me dolefully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, colonel,” he went on, “the three or four months which have passed + since your last visit, have cleared away all mists from <i>my</i> eyes at + least, and put an end to all my dreams—among others, to that project + which I spoke of—the purchase and restoration of the family estate + of Stafford. It will never be restored by me. Like Randolph, I am the last + of my line.” + </p> + <p> + And with eyes full of a profound melancholy, the speaker gazed into the + fire. + </p> + <p> + “I am passing away with the country,” he added. “The cause is going to + fail. I give it three months to end in, and have sent for a prominent + senator, who may be able to do something. I intend to say to him, ‘The + time has come to make the best terms possible with the enemy,’ and I shall + place the columns of the <i>Examiner</i> newspaper at his disposal to + advocate that policy."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: This, I learned afterward, from the Hon. Mr. ——-, + was duly done by Mr. Daniel. But it was too late.} + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible!” I said. “Frankly, I do not think things are so + desperate.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a soldier, and hopeful, colonel. The smoke blinds you.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet General Lee is said to repudiate negotiations with scorn. He is + said to have lately replied to a gentleman who advised them, ‘For myself, + I intend to die sword in hand!’” + </p> + <p> + “General Lee is a soldier—and you know what the song says: ‘A + soldier’s business, boys, is to die!’” + </p> + <p> + I could find no reply to the grim words. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you the cause is lost, colonel!” with feverish energy, “lost + irremediably, at this moment while we are speaking! It is lost from causes + which are enough to make the devil laugh, but it is lost all the same! + When the day of surrender, and Yankee domination comes—when the + gentlemen of the South are placed under the heel of negroes and Yankees—I, + for one, wish to die. Happy is the man who shall have gotten into the + grave before that day!{1} Blessed will be the woman who has never given + suck!{2} Yes, the best thing for me is to die—{3} and I am going to + do so. I shall not see that <i>Dies Irae</i>! I shall be in my grave!” + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 2: His words.} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 3: His words.} + </p> + <p> + And breathing heavily, the journalist again leaned back in his chair, as + though about to faint. + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward, I terminated my visit, and went out, oppressed and + gloomy. + </p> + <p> + This singular man had made a reluctant convert of me to his own dark + views. The cloud which wrapped him, now darkened me—from the black + future I saw the lightnings dart already. + </p> + <p> + His predictions were destined to have a very remarkable fulfilment. + </p> + <p> + On the 21st of December, a few days after our interview, Sherman + telegraphed to Lincoln:— + </p> + <p> + “I beg to present you, as a Christmas gift, the city of Savannah, with one + hundred and fifty guns, and plenty of ammunition, and also about + twenty-five thousand bales of cotton.” + </p> + <p> + In January, Wilmington fell. + </p> + <p> + Toward the end of the same month, John M. Daniel was a second time seized + with pneumonia, and took to his bed, from which he was never again to + rise. He would see no one but his physician and a few chosen friends. All + other persons were persistently denied admittance to his chamber. + Lingering throughout the remainder of the winter, as spring approached, + life seemed gradually leaving him. Day by day his pulse grew weaker. You + would have said that this man was slowly dying with the cause for which he + had fought; that as the life-blood oozed, drop by drop, from the bleeding + bosom of the Southern Confederacy, the last pulses of John M. Daniel kept + time to the pattering drops. + </p> + <p> + One morning, at the end of March, his physician came to see him, and found + him lying on the outer edge of his bed. Not wishing to disturb him, the + physician went to the window to mix a stimulant. All at once a noise + attracted his attention, and he turned round. The dying man had, by a + great effort, turned completely over, and lay on his back in the middle of + the bed, with his eyes closed, and his arms folded on his breast, as + though he were praying. + </p> + <p> + When the physician came to his bedside, he was dead. + </p> + <p> + It was four days before the fall of Petersburg and Richmond; and he was + buried in Hollywood, just in time to escape the tramp of Federal feet + around his coffin. + </p> + <p> + His prophecy and wish were thus fulfilled.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: These details are strictly accurate.} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0137" id="link2H_4_0137"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. — GARROTED. + </h2> + <p> + When I left Mr. John M. Daniel it was past ten at night, and designing to + set out early in the morning for Petersburg, I bent my steps toward home. + </p> + <p> + The night was not however to pass without adventures of another character. + </p> + <p> + I was going along Governor Street, picking my way by the light of the few + gas-lamps set far apart and burning dimly, when all at once I heard a cry + in front, succeeded by the noise of a scuffle, and then by a heavy fall. + </p> + <p> + Hastening forward I reached the spot, which was not far from the City + Hall; and a glance told me all. + </p> + <p> + A wayfarer had been garroted; that is to say, suddenly attacked while + passing along, by one of the night-birds who then infested the streets + after dark; seized from behind; throttled, and thrown violently to the + ground—the object of the assailant being robbery. + </p> + <p> + When I reached the spot the robber was still struggling with his victim, + who, stretched beneath him on the ground, uttered frightful cries. One + hand of the garroter was on his throat, the other was busily rifling his + pockets. + </p> + <p> + I came up just in time to prevent a murder, but not to disappoint the + robber. As I appeared he hastily rose, releasing the throat of the + unfortunate citizen. I saw a watch gleam in his hand; he bestowed a + violent kick on his prostrate victim;—then he disappeared running, + and was in an instant lost in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + I saw that pursuit would be useless; and nobody ever thought, at that + period, of attempting to summon the police. I turned to assist the victim, + who all at once rose from the ground, uttering groans and cries. + </p> + <p> + The lamp-light shone upon his face. It was the worthy Mr. Blocque—Mr. + Blocque, emitting howls of anguish! Mr. Blocque, shaking his clenched + hands, and maligning all created things! Mr. Blocque, devoting, with loud + curses and imprecations, the assembled wisdom of the “city fathers,” and + the entire police force of the Confederate capital, to the infernal + deities! + </p> + <p> + “I am robbed—murdered!” screamed the little Jewish-looking + personage, in a shrill falsetto which resembled the shriek of a furious + old woman, “robbed! rifled!—stripped of every thing!—garroted!—my + money taken!—I had ten thousand dollars in gold and greenbacks on my + person!—not a Confederate note in the whole pack—not one! gold + and greenbacks!—two watches!—-I am ruined! I will expose the + police! I was going to my house like a quiet citizen! I was harming + nobody! and I am to be set on and robbed of my honest earnings by a + highwayman—choked, strangled, knocked down, my pockets picked, my + money taken—and this in the capital of the Confederacy, under the + nose of the police!” + </p> + <p> + It was a shrill squeak which I heard—something unutterably + ludicrous. I could scarce forbear laughing, as I looked at the little + blockade-runner, with disordered hair, dirty face, torn clothes, and + bleeding nose, uttering curses, and moaning in agony over the loss of his + “honest earnings!” + </p> + <p> + I consoled him in the best manner I could, and asked him if he had lost + every thing. That question seemed to arouse him. He felt hastily in his + pockets,—and then at the result my eyes opened wide. Thrusting his + hand into a secret pocket, he drew forth an enormous roll of greenbacks, + and I could see the figures “100” on each of the notes as he ran over + them. That bundle alone must have contained several thousands of dollars. + But the worthy Mr. Blocque did not seem in the least consoled. + </p> + <p> + “He got <i>the other bundle</i>!” shrieked the victim, still in his wild + falsetto; “it was ten thousand dollars—I had just received it this + evening—I am robbed!—they are going to murder me!—Where + is the police!—murder!” + </p> + <p> + I laid my hand upon his arm. + </p> + <p> + “You have lost a very considerable sum,” I said, “but—you may lose + more still.” + </p> + <p> + And I pointed to the roll of bank notes in his hand, with a significant + glance. At these words he started. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, colonel!” he said, hastily; “I may be attacked again! I + may be robbed of all—they may finish me! I will get home as quickly + as I can! Thank you, colonel! you have saved me from robbery and murder! + Come and see me, colonel. Come and dine with me, my dear sir! At five, + precisely!” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Blocque commenced running wildly toward a place of safety. + </p> + <p> + In a moment he had disappeared, and I found myself alone—laughing + heartily. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0138" id="link2H_4_0138"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. — THE CLOAKED WOMAN. + </h2> + <p> + “Well,” I said, as I walked on, “this is a charming adventure and conveys + a tolerably good idea of the city of Richmond, after dark, in the year + 1864. Our friend Blocque is garroted, and robbed of his ‘honest earnings,’ + at one fell swoop by a footpad! The worthy citizen is waylaid; his pockets + rifled; his life desolated. All the proceeds of a life of virtuous + industry have disappeared. Terrible condition of things!—awful times + when a good citizen can not go home to his modest supper of canvas-backs + and champagne, without being robbed by——his brother robber!” + </p> + <p> + Indulging in these reflections, not unaccompanied with smiles, I continued + my way, with little fear, myself, of pickpockets or garroters. Those + gentry were intelligent. They were never known to attack people with gray + coats—they knew better! They attacked the black coats, in the + pockets of which they suspected the presence of greenbacks and valuable + papers; never the gray coats, where they would find only a frayed “leave + of absence” for their pains! + </p> + <p> + I thus banished the whole affair from my mind; but it had aroused and + excited me. I did not feel at all sleepy; and finding, by a glance at my + watch beneath a lamp, that it was only half past ten, I resolved to go and + ask after the health of my friend, Mr. X——-, whose house was + only a square or two off. + </p> + <p> + This resolution I proceeded at once to carry out. A short walk brought me + to the house, half buried in its shrubbery; but as I approached I saw a + carriage was standing before the house. + </p> + <p> + Should I make my visit then, or postpone it? Mr. X——- + evidently had company. Or had the carriage brought a visitor to some other + member of the household? Mr. X——- was only a boarder, and I + might be mistaken in supposing that <i>he</i> was engaged at the moment. + </p> + <p> + As these thoughts passed through my mind, I approached the gate in the + iron railing. The carriage was half hidden by the shadow of the elms, + which grew in a row along the sidewalk. On the box sat a motionless + figure. The vehicle and driver were as still and silent as if carved out + of ebony. + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly I will discover,” I said, and opening the gate I turned into + the winding path through the shrubbery, which led toward the rear of the + house; that is to say, toward the private entrance to the room of Mr. X——-. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, as I passed through the shadowy shrubs, I felt a hand on my + shoulder. I started back, and unconsciously felt for some weapon. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t shoot me, colonel!” said a voice in the darkness, “I am a friend.” + </p> + <p> + I recognized the voice of Nighthawk. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! my dear Nighthawk,” I said, drawing a long breath of + relief, “you are enough to make Alonzo the Brave, himself, tremble? You + turn up everywhere, and especially in the dark! What are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “I am watching, colonel,” said Nighthawk, with benignant sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “Watching?” + </p> + <p> + “And waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Waiting for whom?” + </p> + <p> + “For a lady with whom you have the honor of being acquainted.” + </p> + <p> + “A lady—?” + </p> + <p> + “That one you last saw in the lonely house near Monk’s Neck. Hush! here + she comes.” + </p> + <p> + His voice had sunk to a whisper, and he drew me into the shrubbery, as a + long bar of light, issuing from the door in the rear of the house, ran out + into the night. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to follow her,” whispered Nighthawk, placing his lips close to + my ear, “she is at her devil’s work here in Richmond, as Swartz was—.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he was silent; a light step was heard. A form approached us, + passed by. I could see that it was a woman, wrapped from head to foot in a + gray cloak. + </p> + <p> + She passed so close to us that the skirt of her cloak nearly brushed our + persons, and disappeared toward the gate. The iron latch was heard to + click, the door of the carriage to open and close, and then the vehicle + began to move. + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk took two quick steps in the direction of the gate. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to follow the carriage, colonel,” he whispered. “I have been + waiting here to do so. I will tell you more another time. Give my respects + to General Mohun, and tell him I am on his business!” + </p> + <p> + With which words Nighthawk glided into the darkness—passed through + the gate without sound from the latch—and running noiselessly, + disappeared on the track of the carriage. + </p> + <p> + I gazed after him for a moment, said to myself, “well this night is to be + full of incident!”—and going straight to the door in the rear of the + house, passed through it, went to the door of Mr. X——-’s room, + and knocked. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said the voice of that gentleman; and opening the door I + entered. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0139" id="link2H_4_0139"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. — THE HEART OF A STATESMAN. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. X——- was seated in front of an excellent coal fire, in his + great armchair, near a table covered with papers, and between his lips was + the eternal cigar. + </p> + <p> + At sight of me he rose courteously—for he never omitted any form of + politeness—and cordially shook my hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see you, colonel,” he said. “Just from the army? Have a + cigar.” + </p> + <p> + And he extended toward me an elegant cigar-case full of Havanas, which he + took from the table. I declined, informing him that I had been smoking all + the evening in the sanctum of the editor of the <i>Examiner</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you have been to see Daniel,” said Mr. X——-. “He is a + very remarkable man. I do not approve of the course of his paper, and he + has attacked me very bitterly on more than one occasion. But I bear no + grudge against him. He is honest in his opinions. I admire the pluck of + the man, and the splendid pith of his writings.” + </p> + <p> + “My views accord with your own,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody thinks with us,” said Mr. X——-, puffing at his + cigar. “It is only ignoramuses who deny this man’s courage and ability. I + have never done injustice to Daniel—and I call that ‘liberal’ in + myself, colonel! He has flayed me alive on three or four occasions, and it + is not his fault that I am enjoying this excellent Havana.” + </p> + <p> + “I read the attacks,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Were they not fearful?” said Mr. X——-, smiling tranquilly. + “After reading them, I regarded myself as a moral and political monster!” + </p> + <p> + I could not forbear from laughing as the portly statesman uttered the + words. He seemed to derive a species of careless enjoyment from the + recollection of his “flayings.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect to talk over these little affairs with Daniel hereafter,” he + said. “We shall have a great deal of time on our hands—in Canada.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. X——- smiled, and went on smoking. It was the second + time he had uttered that phrase—“in Canada.” + </p> + <p> + I laughed now, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “You continue to regard Toronto, or Montreal, or Quebec, as your future + residence?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I think I prefer Quebec. The view from Cape Diamond is superb; and + there is something English and un-American in the whole place, which I + like. The Plains of Abraham bring back the history of the past,—which + is more agreeable to me at least than the history of the present.” + </p> + <p> + “You adhere more than ever, I see, to your opinion that we are going to + fail?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not an opinion, my dear colonel, but a certainty.” + </p> + <p> + My head sank. In the army I had been hopeful. When I came to Richmond, + those high intelligences, John M. Daniel and Mr. X——-, did not + even attempt to conceal their gloomy views. + </p> + <p> + “I see you think me a croaker,” said Mr. X——-, tranquilly + smoking, “and doubtless say to yourself, colonel, that I am injudicious in + thus discouraging a soldier, who is fighting for this cause. A year ago I + would not have spoken to you thus, for a year ago there was still some + hope. Now, to discourage you—if thinking men, fighting for a + principle, like yourself, <i>could</i> be discouraged—would result + in no injury: for the cause is lost. On the contrary, as the friend of + that most excellent gentleman, your father, I regard it as a sort of duty + to speak thus—to say to you ‘Don’t throw away your life for nothing. + Do your duty, but do no more than your duty, for we are doomed.’” + </p> + <p> + I could find no reply to these gloomy words. + </p> + <p> + “The case is past praying for,” said Mr. X——- composedly, “the + whole fabric of the Confederacy at this moment is a mere shell. It is + going to crumble in the spring, and another flag will float over the + Virginia capitol yonder—what you soldiers call ‘The Gridiron.’ The + country is tired. The administration is unpopular, and the departments are + mismanaged. I am candid, you see. The days of the Confederacy are + numbered, and worse than all, nobody knows it. We ought to negotiate for + the best terms, but the man who advises that, will be hissed at and called + a ‘coward.’ It is an invidious thing to do. It is much grander to shout + ‘Death sooner than surrender!’ I shouted that lustily as long as there was + any hope—now, I think it my duty as a statesman, and public + functionary, to say, ‘There are worse things than death—let us try + and avoid them by making terms.’ I say that to you—I do not say so + on the streets—the people would tear me to pieces, and with their + sources of information they would be right in doing so.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible that all is lost? That negotiations are our only hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and confidentially speaking—this is a State secret, my dear + colonel—these will soon be made.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “You think that impossible, but it is the impossible which invariably + takes place in this world. We are going to send commissioners to meet Mr. + Lincoln in Hampton Roads—and it will be useless.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “We are going to demand such terms as he will not agree to. The + commissioners will return. The war will continue to its legitimate + military end, which I fix about the last days of March.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heaven! so soon!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “In three months?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. X——- nodded. + </p> + <p> + “General Lee may lengthen the term a little by his skill and courage, but + it is not in <i>his</i> power, even, to resist beyond the month of April.” + </p> + <p> + “The army of Northern Virginia, driven by the enemy!” + </p> + <p> + “Forced to surrender, or annihilated; and in Virginia—it will never + join Johnston. Its numbers are too small to cut a path through the enemy. + Grant will be at the Southside road before the first of April; Lee will + evacuate his lines, which he will be compelled to hold to the last moment; + he will retreat; be intercepted; be hunted down toward Lynchburg, and + either surrender, or be butchered. Cheerful, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is frightful!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Lee’s men are starving now. The country is tired of the war, and + disgusted with the manner in which we manage things. No recruits are + arriving. The troops are not <i>deserting</i>, but they are leaving the + army without permission, to succor their starving families. Lee’s last + hours are approaching, and we are playing the comedy here in Richmond with + an immense appearance of reality; dancing, and fiddling, and laughing on + the surface of the volcano. I play my part among the rest. I risk my head + more even, perhaps, than the military leaders. I take a philosophic view, + however, of the present and future. If I am not hung, I will go to Canada; + meanwhile, I smoke my cigar, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. X——- lazily threw away his stump, and lit a fresh + Havana. It is impossible to imagine any thing more careless than his + attitude. This man was either very brave or frightfully apathetic. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes afterward, I knew that any thing but apathy possessed him. + All at once he rose in his chair, and his eyes were fixed upon me with a + glance so piercing and melancholy, that they dwell still in my memory, and + will always dwell there. + </p> + <p> + “I said we were playing a comedy here in Richmond, colonel,” he said, in + tones so deep and solemn that they made me start; “I am playing my part + with the rest; I play it in public, and even in private, as before you + to-night. I sit here, indolently smoking and uttering my jests and + platitudes, and, at the moment that I am speaking, my heart is breaking! I + am a Virginian—I love this soil more than all the rest of the world—not + a foot but is dear and sacred, and a vulgar horde are about to trample it + under foot, and enslave its people. Every pulse of my being throbs with + agony at the thought! I can not sleep. I have lost all taste for food. One + thought alone haunts me—that the land of Washington, Jefferson, + Mason, Henry, and Randolph, is to become the helpless prey of the scum of + Europe and the North! My family has lived here for more than two hundred + years. I have been, and am to-day, proud beyond words, of my birthright! I + am a Virginian! a Virginian of Virginians! I have for forty years had no + thought but the honor of Virginia. I have fought for her, and her only, in + the senate and cabinet of the old government at Washington. I have + dedicated all my powers to her—shrunk from nothing in my path—given + my days and nights for years, and was willing to pour out my blood for + Virginia; and now she is about to be trampled upon, her great statues + hurled down, her escutcheon blotted, her altars overturned! And I, who + have had no thought but her honor and glory, am to be driven, at the end + of a long career, to a foreign land! I am to crouch yonder in Canada, with + my bursting brow in my two hands—and every newspaper is to tell me + ‘the negro and the bayonet rule Virginia!’ Can you wonder, then, that I am + gloomy—that despair lies under all this jesting? <i>You</i> are + happy. You go yonder, where a bullet may end you. Would to God that I had + entered the army, old as I am, and that at least I could hope for a death + of honor, in arms for Virginia!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0140" id="link2H_4_0140"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. — SECRET SERVICE. + </h2> + <p> + The statesman leaned back in his great chair, and was silent. At the same + moment a tap was heard at the door; it opened noiselessly, and Nighthawk + glided into the apartment. + </p> + <p> + Under his cloak I saw the gray uniform of a Confederate soldier; in his + hand he carried a letter. + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk saluted Mr. X——- and myself with benignant respect. + His quick eye, however, had caught the gloomy and agitated expression of + the statesman’s countenance, and he was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mr. X——-, raising his head, with a deep sigh. + Then passing his hand over his face, he seemed to brush away all emotion. + When he again looked up, his face was as calm and unmoved as at the + commencement of our interview. + </p> + <p> + “You see I begin a new scene in this comedy,” he said to me in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + And turning to Nighthawk, he said:— + </p> + <p> + “Well, you followed that agreeable person?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Nighthawk, with great respect. + </p> + <p> + “She turned out to be the character you supposed? Speak before Colonel + Surry.” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I never had any doubt of her character, sir,” he said. “You will remember + that she called on you a week ago, announcing that she was a spy, who had + lately visited the Federal lines and Washington. You described her to me, + and informed me that you had given her another appointment for to-night; + when I assured you that I knew her; she was an enemy, who had come as a + spy upon <i>us</i>; and you directed me to be here to-night, and follow + her, after your interview.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mr. X——-, quietly, “you followed her!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. On leaving you, after making her pretended report of affairs in + Washington, she got into her carriage, and the driver started rapidly, + going up Capitol and Grace streets. I followed on foot, and had to run—but + I am used to that, sir. The carriage stopped at a house in the upper part + of the city—a Mr. Blocque’s; the lady got out, telling the driver to + wait, and went into the house, where she staid for about half an hour. She + then came out—I was in the shadow of a tree, not ten yards from the + spot, and as she got into the carriage, I could see that she held in her + hand a letter. As the driver closed the door, she said, ‘Take me to the + flag-of-truce bureau, on Ninth Street, next door to the war office.’ The + driver mounted his box, and set off—and crossing the street, I + commenced running to get a-head. In this I succeeded, and reached the + bureau five minutes before the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I hastened up stairs, and went into the bureau, where three or + four clerks were examining the letters left to be sent by the + flag-of-truce boat to-morrow. They were laughing and jesting as they read + aloud the odd letters from the Libby and other prisons—some of + which, I assure you, were very amusing, sir—when the lady’s + footsteps were heard upon the stairs, and she came in, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I had turned my back, having given some excuse for my presence to one of + the clerks, who is an acquaintance. Thus the lady, who knows me, could not + see my face; but I could, by looking out of the corners of my eyes, see <i>her</i>. + She came in, in her rich gray cloak, smiling on the clerks, and handing an + open letter to one of them, said:—“‘Will you oblige me by sending + that to my sister in New York, by the flag-of-truce boat, to-morrow, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘If there is nothing contraband in it, madam,’ said the clerk. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh!’ she replied, with a laugh, ‘it is only on family matters. My sister + is a Southerner, and so am I, sir. You can read the letter; it is not very + dangerous!’ + </p> + <p> + “And she smiled so sweetly that the clerk was almost ashamed to read the + letter. He, however, glanced his eye over it, and evidently found nothing + wrong in it. While he was doing so, the lady walked toward the mail-bags + in which the clerks had been placing such letters as they found + unobjectionable, the others being marked, ‘Condemned,’ and thrown into a + basket. As she passed near one of the bags, I saw the lady, whom I was + closely watching, flirt her cloak, as though by accident, across the mouth + of one of the mail-bags, and at the same instant her hand stole down and + dropped a letter into the bag. As she did so, the clerk, who had finished + reading <i>the other letter</i>, bowed, and said:—- + </p> + <p> + “‘There is nothing objectionable in this, madam, and it will be sent, of + course.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I was sure of that, sir,’ replied the lady, with a smile. ‘I am very + much obliged. Good evening, sir!’ + </p> + <p> + “And she sailed out, all the clerks politely rising as she did so. + </p> + <p> + “No sooner had the door closed than I darted upon the bag in which I had + seen her drop the letter. The clerks wished to stop me, but I informed + them of what I had seen. If they doubted, they could see for themselves + that the letter, which I had easily found, was not sealed with the seal of + the bureau. They looked at it, and at once acknowledged their error. + </p> + <p> + “‘Arrest her!’ exclaimed one of them, suddenly. The rapid rolling of a + carriage came like an echo to his words. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is useless, gentlemen,’ I said. ‘I know where to find the lady, and + will look to the whole affair. You know I am in the secret service, and + will be personally responsible for every thing. I will take this letter to + the official who directed me to watch the lady who brought it.’ + </p> + <p> + “To this, no objection was made, as I am known at the office. I came away; + returned as quickly as possible; and here is the letter, sir.” + </p> + <p> + With which words Nighthawk drew his hand from under his cloak, and + presented the letter to Mr. X——-, who had listened in silence + to his narrative. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0141" id="link2H_4_0141"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. — BY FLAG-OF-TRUCE BOAT. + </h2> + <p> + MR. X——- took the letter, broke the seal, and ran his eye over + the contents. + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly, that woman is a skilful person,” he said; “she fishes in + troubled waters with the coolness of an experienced hand.” + </p> + <p> + And presenting the letter to me, the statesman said:— + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to see a specimen of the sort of documents which go on + file in the departments, colonel?” + </p> + <p> + I took the letter, and read the following words:— + </p> + <p> + “RICHMOND, 18 <i>Dec’r</i>, 1864. + </p> + <p> + “Tell, <i>you know who</i>, that I have just seen the honorable Mr.——-” + (here the writer gave the real name and official position of Mr. X——-), + “and have had a long conversation with him. He is fully convinced that I + am a good Confederate, and spoke without reserve of matters the most + private. He is in high spirits, and looks on the rebel cause as certain to + succeed. I never saw one more blinded to the real state of things. + Richmond is full of misery, and the people seem in despair, but this high + official, who represents the whole government, is evidently certain of + Lee’s success. I found him in a garrulous mood, and he did not conceal his + views. The government has just received heavy supplies from the south, by + the Danville railroad—others are coming—the whole country in + rear of Sherman is rising—and Lee, he stated, would soon be + re-enforced by between fifty and seventy-five thousand men. What was more + important still, was a dispatch, which he read me, from England. This + startled me. There seems no doubt that England is about to recognize the + Confederacy. When he had finished reading this dispatch, on the back of + which I could see the English postmark, he said to me—these are his + words:—‘You see, things were never brighter; it is only a question + of time; and by holding out a little longer, we shall compel the enemy to + retire and give up the contest. With the re-enforcements coming, Lee will + have about one hundred thousand men. With that force, he will be able to + repulse all General Grant’s assaults. Things look dark at this moment, but + the cause was never more hopeful.’ + </p> + <p> + “He seemed insane, but I give you his words. It is certain that these are + the views of the government, and that our authorities are much mistaken in + supposing the Confederacy at its last gasp. It is impossible that the + honorable Mr.——- was attempting to deceive me; because I + carried him a letter from ——-” (here the writer gave the name + of a prominent official of the Confederate Government, which I suppress) + “who vouched for me, and declared that I was passionately Southern in my + sympathies. + </p> + <p> + “I shall see the honorable Mr.——- in a day or two again. In + the mean while, I am staying, <i>incognita</i>, at the house of our + friend, Mr. Blocque, who has afforded me every facility in return for the + <i>safeguard</i> I brought him, to protect his property when we occupy + Richmond. The city is in a terrible state. Mr. Blocque has just come in, + and informs me that he has been garroted near the capitol, and robbed of + ten thousand dollars in good money. He is in despair. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as I have finished some important private business, which keeps + me in the Confederate lines, I shall be with ——- again. Tell + him to be in good spirits. This city has still a great deal of money + hoarded in garrets—and we shall soon be here. Then we can retire on + a competence—and when <i>Fonthill</i> is confiscated, we will + purchase it, and live in affluence. + </p> + <h3> + “LUCRETIA.” + </h3> + <p> + I looked at the back of the letter. It was directed to a lady in Suffolk. + From the letter, my glance passed to the face of Mr. X——-. He + was smiling grimly. + </p> + <p> + “A valuable document,” he said, “which madam will doubtless duplicate + before very long, with additional particulars. I make you a present of it, + colonel, as a memorial of the war.” + </p> + <p> + I thanked him, and placed the letter in my pocket. To-day I copy it, word + for word. + </p> + <p> + Mr. X——- reflected a moment; then he said to Nighthawk:— + </p> + <p> + “Arrest this woman; I am tired of her. I have no time to waste upon such + persons, however charming.” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk looked greatly delighted. + </p> + <p> + “I was going to beg that order of you, sir,” he said, “as the ‘private + business’ alluded to in the letter, concerns a friend of mine, greatly.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! well, here is the order.” + </p> + <p> + And taking a pen, Mr. X——- scrawled two lines, which he handed + to Nighthawk. A glow of satisfaction came to that worthy’s face, and + taking the paper, he carefully placed it in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + As he did so, the bell in the capitol square struck midnight, and I rose + to take my departure. + </p> + <p> + “Come and see me soon again, colonel,” said Mr. X——-, going to + the door with me. He had made a sign to Nighthawk, who rose to go out with + me, that he wished him to remain. + </p> + <p> + “What I have said to you, to-night,” continued the statesman, gravely, + “may have been injudicious, colonel. I am not certain of that—but I + am quite sure that to have it repeated at this time would be inconvenient. + Be discreet, therefore, my dear friend—after the war, tell or write + what you fancy; and I should rather have my present views known then, than + not known. They are those neither of a time-server, a faint heart, or a + fool. I stand like the Roman sentinel at the gate of Herculaneum, awaiting + the lava flood that will bury me. I see it coming—I hear the roar—I + know destruction is rushing on me—but I am a sentinel on post; I + stand where I have been posted; it is God and my conscience that have + placed me on duty here. I will stay, whatever comes, until I am relieved + by the same authority which posted me.” And with the bow of a nobleman, + the gray-haired statesman bade me farewell. + </p> + <p> + I returned to my lodgings, buried in thought, pondering deeply on the + strange scenes of this night of December. + </p> + <p> + On the next morning I set out, and rejoined the army at Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + I, too, was a sentinel on post, like the statesman. And I determined to + remain on duty to the last. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0142" id="link2H_4_0142"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. — TO AND FRO IN THE SPRING OF ‘65. + </h2> + <p> + The months of January and February, 1865, dragged on, sombre and dreary. + </p> + <p> + Two or three expeditions which I made during that woeful period, gave me a + good idea of the condition of the country. + </p> + <p> + In September, 1864, I had traversed Virginia from Petersburg to + Winchester, and had found the people—especially those of the lower + Shenandoah Valley—still hopeful, brave, resolved to resist to the + death. + </p> + <p> + In January and February, 1865, my official duties carried me to the region + around Staunton; to the mountains west of Lynchburg; and to the North + Carolina border, south of Petersburg. All had changed. Everywhere I found + the people looking blank, hopeless, and utterly discouraged. The shadow of + the approaching woe seemed to have already fallen upon them. + </p> + <p> + The army was as “game” as ever—even Early’s little handful, soon to + be struck and dispersed by General Sheridan’s ten thousand cavalry. + Everywhere, the soldiers laughed in the face of death. Each seemed to + feel, as did the old statesman with whom I had conversed on that night at + Richmond, that he was a sentinel on post, and must stand there to the + last. The lava might engulf him, but he was “posted,” and must stand until + relieved, by his commanding officer or death. It was the “poor private,” + in his ragged jacket and old shoes, as well as the officer in his braided + coat, who felt thus. For those private soldiers of the army of Northern + Virginia were gentlemen. <i>Noblesse oblige</i> was their motto; and they + meant to die, musket in hand! + </p> + <p> + Oh, soldiers of the army, who carried those muskets in a hundred battles!—who + fought with them from Manassas, in 1861, to Appomattox, in 1865—you + are the real heroes of the mighty struggle, and one comrade salutes you + now, as he looked at you with admiration in old days! What I saw in those + journeys was dreary enough; but however black may be the war-cloud, there + is always the gleam of sunlight somewhere! We laughed now and then, + reader, even in the winter of 1864-’5! + </p> + <p> + I laugh still, as I think of the brave cannoneers of the horse artillery + near Staunton—and of the fearless Breathed, their commander, jesting + and playing with his young bull-dog, whom he had called “Stuart” for his + courage. I hear the good old songs, all about “Ashby,” and the “Palmetto + Tree,” and the “Bonnie Blue Flag”—songs sung with joyous voices in + that dreary winter, as in other days, when the star of hope shone more + brightly, and the future was more promising. + </p> + <p> + At Lynchburg, where I encountered a number of old friends, songs still + sweeter saluted me—from the lips of my dear companions, Major Gray + and Captain Woodie. How we laughed and sang, on that winter night, at + Lynchburg! Do you chant your sweet “Nora McShane” still, Gray? And you, + Woodie, do you sing in your beautiful and touching tenor to-day,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The heart bowed down by deep despair. + To weakest hopes will cling?” + </pre> + <p> + Across the years comes once more that magical strain; again I hear your + voice, filled with the very soul of sadness, tell how + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Memory is the only friend + That grief can call its own!” + </pre> + <p> + That seemed strangely applicable to the situation at the time. The memory + of our great victories was all that was left to us; and I thought that it + was the spirit of grief itself that was singing. Again I hear the notes—but + “Nora McShane” breaks in—“Nora McShane,” the most exquisite of all + Gray’s songs. Then he winds up with uproarious praise of the “Bully Lager + Beer!”—and the long hours of night flit away on the wings of + laughter, as birds dart onward, and are buried in the night. + </p> + <p> + Are you there still, Gray? Do you sing still, Woodie? Health and + happiness, comrades! All friendly stars smile on you! Across the years and + the long leagues that divide us, I salute you! + </p> + <p> + Thus, at Staunton and Lynchburg, reader, gay scenes broke the monotony. In + my journey toward North Carolina, I found food also, for laughter. + </p> + <p> + I had gone to Hicksford, fifty miles south of Petersburg, to inspect the + cavalry; and in riding on, I looked with curiosity on the desolation which + the enemy had wrought along the Weldon railroad, when they had destroyed + it in the month of December. Stations, private houses, barns, stables, all + were black and charred ruins. The railroad was a spectacle. The enemy had + formed line of battle close along the track; then, at the signal, this + line of battle had attacked the road. The iron rails were torn from the + sleepers; the latter were then piled up and fired; the rails were placed + upon the blazing mass, and left there until they became red-hot in the + middle, and both ends bent down—then they had been seized, broken, + twisted; in a wild spirit of sport the men had borne some of the heated + rails to trees near the road; twisted them three or four times around the + trunks; and there, as I passed, were the unfortunate trees with their iron + boa-constrictors around them—monuments of the playful humor of the + blue people, months before. + </p> + <p> + Hill and Hampton had attacked and driven them back; from the dead horses, + as elsewhere, rose the black vultures on flapping wings: but it is no part + of my purpose, reader, to weary you with these war-pictures, or describe + disagreeable scenes. It is an odd interview which I had on my return + toward Petersburg that my memory recalls. It has naught to do with my + narrative—but then it will not fill more than a page! + </p> + <p> + I had encountered two wagons, and, riding, ahead of them, saw a courier of + army head-quarters, whose name was Ashe. + </p> + <p> + I saluted the smiling youth, in return for his own salute, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been, Ashe?” + </p> + <p> + “To Sussex, colonel, on a foraging expedition.” + </p> + <p> + “For the general?” + </p> + <p> + “And some of the staff, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + Ashe smiled; we rode on together. + </p> + <p> + “How did you come to be a forager, Ashe?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Well this was the way of it, colonel,” he said. “I belonged to the old + Stonewall brigade, but General Lee detailed me at the start of the war to + shoe the head-quarters horses. It was old General Robert that sent me with + these wagons. I was shoeing the general’s gray, and had just pared the + hind-hoof, when he sent for me. A man had started with the wagons, and had + mired in the field right by head-quarters. So old General Robert says, + says he, ‘Ashe, you can get them out.’ I says, ‘General, I think I can, if + you’ll give me a canteen full of your French brandy for the boys.’ He + laughed at that, and I says, ‘General, I have been with you three years, + and if in that time you have ever seen me out of the way, I hope you will + tell me so.’ ‘No, Ashe,’ says he, ‘I have not, and you shall have the + brandy.’ And his black fellow went into the closet and drew me a canteen + full; for you see, colonel, old General Robert always keeps a demijohn + full, and carries it about in his old black spring wagon, to give to the + wounded soldiers—he don’t drink himself. Well, I got the brandy, and + set the boys to work, building a road with pine saplings, and got the + wagons out! From that time to this, I have been going with them, colonel, + and sometimes some very curious things have happened.” + </p> + <p> + I assumed that inquiring expression of countenance dear to story-tellers. + Ashe saw it, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Last fall, colonel,” he said, “I was down on the Blackwater, foraging + with my wagons, for old General Robert, when a squadron of Yankees crossed + in the ferryboat, and caught me. I did not try to get off, and the colonel + says, says he, ‘Who are <i>you?</i>’ I told him I was only foraging with + General Lee’s head-quarters teams, to get something for the old general to + eat, as nothing could be bought in Petersburg; and, says I, ‘I have long + been looking to be captured, and now the time has come.’ As I was talking, + I saw an uncle of mine among the Yankees, and says he, ‘Ashe, what are you + doing here?’ ‘The same you are doing there,’ I says; and I asked the + colonel just to let me off this time, and I would try and keep out of + their way hereafter. He asked me, Would I come down there any more? And I + told him I didn’t know—I would have to go where I was ordered. + ‘Well,’ says he, ‘you can’t beg off.’ But I says, ‘step here a minute, + colonel,’ and I took him to the wagon, and offered him my canteen of + brandy. He took three or four good drinks, and then he says, says he, + ‘That’s all I want! You can go on with your wagons.’ And I tell you I put + out quick, colonel, and never looked behind me till I got back to + Petersburg?"{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: In the words of the narrator.} + </p> + <p> + I have attempted to recall here, reader, the few gleams of sunshine, the + rare moments of laughter, which I enjoyed in those months of the winter of + 1864-’5. + </p> + <p> + I shrink from dwelling on the events of that dreary epoch. Every day I + lost some friend. One day it was the brave John Pegram, whom I had known + and loved from his childhood; the next day it was some other, whose + disappearance left a gap in my life which nothing thenceforth could fill. + I pass over all that. Why recall more of the desolate epoch than is + necessary? + </p> + <p> + For the rest that is only a momentary laugh that I have indulged in. + Events draw near, at the memory of which you sigh—or even groan + perhaps—to-day, when three years have passed. + </p> + <p> + For this page is written on the morning of April 8, 1868. + </p> + <p> + This day, three years ago, Lee was staggering on in sight of Appomattox. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0143" id="link2H_4_0143"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. — AEGRI SOMNIA.—MARCH, 1865. + </h2> + <p> + These letters and figures arouse terrible memories—do they not, + reader? You shudder as you return in thought to that epoch, provided + always that you then wore the gray, and not the blue. If you wore the + blue, you perhaps laugh. + </p> + <p> + The South had reached, in this month of March, one of those periods when + the most hopeful can see, through the black darkness, no single ray of + light. Throughout the winter, the government had made unceasing efforts to + bring out the resources of the country—efforts honest and untiring, + if not always judicious—but as the days, and weeks, and months wore + on, it became more and more evident that the hours of the Confederacy were + numbered. The project of employing negro troops, which Congress long + opposed, had been adopted at last, but only in time to be too late. The + peace commissioners had held their interview with Lincoln, but effected + nothing. The enemy continually advanced toward the achievement of their + end. Sherman had safely made his famous “march to the sea”—Savannah + and Charleston had fallen—the western army was about to unite with + the army of Grant at Petersburg. There the great game went on, but the end + was near. Lee had attempted, late in February, to evacuate his lines, but + was overruled. His army was reduced to about forty thousand, while Grant’s + numbered about one hundred and fifty thousand. The Confederate troops were + almost naked, and had scarce food enough to sustain life. They fought + still, in the trenches, along the great line of works, but it was plain, + as Lee said, that the line was stretched so far, that a very little more + would snap it. + </p> + <p> + That line extended from the Williamsburg road, east of Richmond to Five + Forks, west of Petersburg—a distance of nearly fifty miles. + Gradually Grant had pushed westward, until his grasp was now very nearly + upon the Southside road. Lee had extended his own thin line to still + confront him. The White Oak road, beyond the Rowanty, had been defended by + heavy works. The hill above Burgess’s bristled with batteries. The extreme + right of the Confederate line rested in the vicinity of Five Forks. Beyond + that it could not be extended. Already it began to crack. Along the works + stretching from east to west, there was scarce a soldier every ten yards. + Grant was only prevented from bursting through by the masterly handling of + Lee’s troops—the rapid concentration of masses at the points which + he threatened. The cavalry was almost paralyzed. The destruction of the + Weldon road southward to Hicksford, in December, had been a death-blow + nearly, to that arm of the service. The Confederate cavalry had depended + upon it, hauling their forage from Stony Creek Station. Now they had been + compelled to go south to Hicksford, the nearest point, fifty miles from + Petersburg. The consequence was that Lee’s right was almost undefended by + cavalry. Grant’s horsemen could penetrate, almost unchecked, to the + Danville and Southside railroads. The marvel was, not that this was + effected at the end of March, but that it was not effected a month sooner. + But I anticipate. + </p> + <p> + To glance, for an instant before proceeding, at the condition of the + country. It had reached the last point of depression, and was yielding to + despair. The government was enormously unpopular—mismanagement had + ceased to attract attention. The press roared in vain. The <i>Enquirer</i> + menaced the members of Congress from the Gulf States. The <i>Examiner</i> + urged that the members of the Virginia Legislature, to be elected in the + spring, should be “clothed with the state sovereignty,” to act for + Virginia! Thus the executive and legislative were both attacked. The + people said, “Make General Lee dictator.” And General ——- + wrote and printed that, in such an event, he “had the dagger of Brutus” + for Lee. Thus all things were in confusion. The currency was nothing but + paper—it was a melancholy farce to call it money. The Confederate + note was popularly regarded as worth little more than the paper upon which + it was printed. Fathers of families went to market and paid hundreds of + dollars for the few pounds of meat which their households required each + day. Officers were forced to pay one thousand dollars for their boots. Old + saddle-bags were cut up, and the hides of dead horses carried off, to + manufacture into shoes. Uniform coats were no longer procurable—the + government had to supply them gratis, even to field officers. Lee + subsisted, like his soldiers, on a little grease and corn bread. Officers + travelling on duty, carried in their saddle-pockets bits of bacon and + stale bread, for the country could not supply them. In the homes of the + land once overflowing with plenty, it was a question each day where food + could be procured. The government had impressed every particle, except + just sufficient to keep the inmates alive. What the commissaries had left, + the “Yankee cavalry” took. A lady of Goochland said to a Federal officer, + “General, I can understand why you destroy railroads and bridges, but why + do you burn mills, and the houses over women and children?” The officer + bowed, and replied, “Madam, your soldiers are so brave that we can’t beat + you; and we are trying to <i>starve you</i>!” + </p> + <p> + The interior of these homes of the country was a touching spectacle. The + women were making every sacrifice. Delicate hands performed duties which + had always fallen to menials. The servants had gone to the enemy, and + aristocratic young women cooked, washed, swept, and drudged—a + charming spectacle perhaps to the enemy, who hated the “aristocracy,” but + woeful to fathers, and sons, and brothers, when they came home sick, or + wounded. Clothes had long grown shabby, and were turned and mended. + Exquisite beauty was decked in rags. A faded calico was a treasure. The + gray-haired gentleman, who had always worn broadcloth, was content with + patched homespun. It was not of these things that they were thinking, + however. Dress had not made those seigneurs and dames—nor could the + want of it hide their dignity. The father, and care-worn wife, and + daughter, and sister, were thinking of other things. The only son was + fighting beside Lee—dying yonder, in the trenches. He was only a + “poor private,” clad in rags and carrying a musket—but he was the + last of a long line, perhaps, of men who had built up Virginia and the + Federal government which he was fighting—he was “only a private,” + but his blood was illustrious; more than all, he was the treasure of the + gray-haired father and mother; the head of the house in the future; if he + fell, the house would fall with him—and it was nearly certain that + he would fall! + </p> + <p> + So they mourned, and looked fearfully to the coming hours, in town and + country. In the old homesteads—poverty and despair. In the cities—wasting + cares and sinking hearts. More than ever before, all the vile classes of + society rioted and held sway. The forestallers and engrossers drove a busy + trade. They seemed to feel that their “time was short”—that the + night was coming, in which not even rascals could work! Supplies were + hoarded, and doled out at famine prices to the famine-stricken community; + not supplies of luxuries, but of the commonest necessaries of life. The + portly extortioner did not invite custom, either. Once he had bowed and + smirked behind his counter when a purchaser entered. Now, he turned his + back coldly, went on reading his newspaper, scarce replied to the words + addressed to him, and threw his goods on the counter with the air of one + reluctantly conferring a favor. Foreboding had entered even the hearts of + the forestaller and extortioner. They had sold their souls for gain, and + that gain was turning to dross. As at the wave of a magician’s wand, their + crisp new “Confederate notes” had become rags. The biter was bit. His + gains were to count for nothing. Extortioner and victim were soon to be + stripped equally naked—the cold blast of ruin was to freeze both + alike. Thus, all things hastened toward the inevitable catastrophe. Brave + hearts did not shrink, but they saw ruin striding on. Every thing crumbled—the + Confederacy was staggering and gasping in the death agony. Day by day the + cause was slowly, but certainly, being lost. Children cried aloud for + bread—women moaned, and knelt, and prayed. Their last hope was + leaving them. Lee’s army was starving and dying. Hour by hour, nearer and + nearer came the roar of the gulf of destruction. A sort of stupor + descended. The country—prostrate and writhing—tried to rise, + but could not. The government knew not where to turn, or what course to + pursue. Grant was growing in strength hourly. Lee’s little force was + dwindling. Sherman was streaming through South Carolina. Grant was + reaching out toward Five Forks. All-destroying war grinned hideously—on + all sides stared gaunt Famine. The air jarred with the thunder of cannon. + The days and nights blazed, and were full of wild cries—of shouts, + groans, and reverberations. The ground shook—the grave yawned—the + black cloud slowly drew on; that cloud from which the thunderbolt was + about to fall. + </p> + <p> + How to describe in a volume like this, now near its end, that terrible + state of coma—that approaching cataclysm, in which all things, + social, civil, and military were about to disappear! The whole fabric of + society was going to pieces; every hour flamed with battles; tragic events + jostled each other; blood gushed; a people were wailing; a victorious + enemy were rushing on; the whole continent trembled; Lee was being swept + away, in spite of every effort which he made to steady his feet—and + that torrent was going to engulf a whole nation! + </p> + <p> + All this I am to describe in the last few pages of this volume! The task + is far beyond my strength. In the future, some writer may delineate that + hideous dream—to do so to-day, in this year 1868, would tear the + stoutest heart. + </p> + <p> + For myself, I do not attempt it. Were I able to paint the picture, there + would be no space. My memoir is nearly ended. The threads of the woof are + nearly spun out, and the loom is going to stop. Death stands ready with + his shears to cut the ravelled thread, knit up the seam, and put his red + label on the fabric! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0144" id="link2H_4_0144"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. — I VISIT GENERAL FITZHUGH LEE. + </h2> + <p> + The end of March, 1865, was approaching when I set out on what was to + prove my last tour of duty amid the pine woods of Dinwiddie. + </p> + <p> + It was a relief to be back in the army; to see brave faces and smiles + around me, instead of gloomy eyes and careworn cheeks, as in the city. I + passed along the Boydton road almost gayly; crossed the Rowanty at + Burgess’s, and went on by General Lee’s powerful works covering the White + Oak road, beyond. Soon I was approaching Dinwiddie Court-House, in the + vicinity of which was encamped our small force of starved and broken-down + cavalry. + </p> + <p> + Hampton had gone to meet Sherman, and the cavalry was commanded now by + General Fitzhugh Lee, who had recovered from his severe wound received at + Winchester. I was greeted by this brave soldier and accomplished gentleman + as warmly as I could have desired—for “General Fitz,” as we always + called him at Stuart’s head-quarters, was the soul of good humor and good + fellowship. You have seen him, have you not, reader—whether you wore + gray or blue—fighting beside him, or meeting him in battle? You + recall the open and manly features, the frank and soldierly glance of the + eye, the long beard and heavy mustache, almost always curling with + laughter? You remember the mirthful voice, the quick jest, the tone of + badinage—that joyful and brave air which said, “as long as life + lasts there is hope!” You have not forgotten this gay cavalier, the + brother-in-arms of Stuart; this born cavalryman, with his love of + adventure, his rollicking mirth, his familiar greeting of high and low, + his charming abandon and ever-ready laughter. That was the character of + the <i>individual</i>—of “Fitz Lee,” the good companion. The + commander-in-chief has defined for all, the traits of Major-General + Fitzhugh Lee. It was General R.E. Lee who wrote him in 1863, “Your + admirable conduct, devotion to the cause of your country, and devotion to + duty, fill me with pleasure. I hope you will soon see her efforts for + independence crowned with success, and long live to enjoy the affection + and gratitude of your country.” + </p> + <p> + These few lines were worth fighting hard for—were they not? All + things change; many things fail. Chaos or monarchy may come, but the good + opinion of Lee will survive all! + </p> + <p> + I talked with General Fitz Lee for an hour nearly, recalling the old days + with Stuart, who had loved and confided in him more than in any other + living man. It was a beautiful friendship, indeed, and each understood the + value of the other as man and soldier. Stuart is dead, and can not give + his testimony; but General Fitz Lee is alive, and can give his. Here and + there a voice still denies Stuart’s genius as a commander. Ask his friend + who survives; and if tears do not choke the voice, you will learn the real + rank of Stuart! + </p> + <p> + But I can not linger on these scenes. The narrative draws on. + </p> + <p> + I mounted my horse, after shaking hands with General Fitz Lee and his + brave staff, and, for the first time, remembered to ask, “Where was Tom + Herbert?” + </p> + <p> + At that question, a beaming smile came to every countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Done for!” said one. + </p> + <p> + “Captured!” laughed another. + </p> + <p> + “Demoralized, subjugated, and negotiating with the enemy!” said a third. + </p> + <p> + “Well, where is the place of meeting—where are the terms being + arranged?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “At a place called Disaways, on the lower Rowanty!” + </p> + <p> + “Good! I know the road there,” I said. + </p> + <p> + And with a laugh, which the general and his gay cavaliers echoed, I + touched my gray with the spur, and set out toward the south. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0145" id="link2H_4_0145"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. — BY A FIRE IN THE WOODS. + </h2> + <p> + I pushed on, having resolved, after finishing my duties, to visit + Disaways. + </p> + <p> + Soon Dinwiddie Court-House came in sight. I entered the small village, and + looked attentively—as I had done on more than one occasion before—at + the locality which General Davenant’s narrative had surrounded with so + strange an interest. There was the old tavern, with its long portico, + where Darke had held his orgies, and from which he had set forth on his + errand of robbery and murder. There was the county jail, in which General + Davenant had insisted upon being confined, and where so many friends had + visited him. There was the old court-house, in which he had been tried for + the murder of George Conway; and I fancied I could distinguish upon one of + the shutters, the broken bolt which Darke had forced, more than ten years + before, in order to purloin the knife with which the crime had been + committed. + </p> + <p> + For some miles, that tragic story absorbed me, banishing all other + reflections. That was surely the strangest of histories!—and the + drama had by no means reached its denouement. Between the first and last + acts “an interval of ten years is supposed to pass.” There was the stage + direction! Darke was still alive, active, dangerous, bent on mischief. He + had an able coadjutress in his female ally. That singular woman, with whom + his life was so closely connected, was in prison, it was true, but the + Confederate authorities might release her; she might, at any moment, + recommence her <i>diablerie</i>. Had she found that paper—or had + Mohun found it? In any event, she was dangerous—more so, even, than + her male companion—that worthy whom I might meet at every turn in + the road—that prince of surprises and tragic “appearances!” + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly, these are curiosities, this man and this woman!” I said; “they + are two bottomless pits of daring and depravity. Mohun has escaped them + heretofore, but now, when the enemy seem driving us, and sweeping every + thing before them, will not Darke and madam attain their vengeance, and + come out winners in the struggle?” + </p> + <p> + With that reflection, I dismissed the subject, and pushed on, over the + narrow and winding roads, to make my inspections. + </p> + <p> + The day was cold and brilliant; the winds cut the face; and I rode on + steadily, thinking of many things. Then the desire to smoke seized upon + me. General Fitzhugh Lee had given me some excellent cigars, captured from + the enemy, and I looked around to find some house where I could light my + cigar. None appeared; but at two hundred yards from the road, in a hidden + hollow, I thought I perceived the glimmer of a fire—probably made by + some straggler. I rode toward it, descended into the hollow, approached + the fire, beside which crouched a figure, wrapped in an overcoat. The + figure raised its head—and I recognized Nighthawk. + </p> + <p> + He rose and smiled benignantly, as he shook hands with me. + </p> + <p> + “An unexpected meeting, Nighthawk,” I said, laughing. “What on earth makes + you come out and camp in the woods?” + </p> + <p> + “A little fancy, colonel; you know I am eccentric. I like this way of + living, from having scouted so much—but I came here with an object!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “To be private. I thought my fire could not be seen from the road.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should it not be?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps I exaggerate danger. But I am on an important scouting + expedition—wanted to reflect, and not be seen—I am going, + to-night, through the lines on a little affair of which you know + something.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what do you refer to?” + </p> + <p> + “That paper,” said Nighthawk, succinctly. “It is in the hands of Alibi—there + is a Yankee picket at his house—but I am going to see him, and force + him to surrender it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible he has it! Do you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “Strangely enough, colonel. Do you remember that woman, Amanda?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly. I visited her with Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + “He told me of your visit. Well, you no doubt remember also, colonel, that + he offered her a large sum to discover the paper—that she offered to + try and find it, or give him a clue to its whereabouts—he was to + return in ten days, and hear her report.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he returned, colonel, but Amanda could tell him nothing—which + you no doubt have heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, from him.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been more successful, at last, in dealing with this strange woman. + I do not know if she is a witch or an epileptic, or what—but she has + convinced me that Alibi has the paper we want.” + </p> + <p> + And Nighthawk proceeded to explain. It was an exceedingly curious + explanation. Amanda had first demanded of him a statement of all the + facts. He had thereupon informed her of the appointment which he had made + with Swartz in Richmond, to meet him three days afterward at the house of + Alibi—of his detention by the pickets, so that he had been unable to + keep the appointment—Alibi’s statement when he saw him, that Swartz + had not been to his house—and Swartz’s confinement in the lonely + house, ending in his murder by Darke. That was all he knew, he said—the + paper was gone—where was it? + </p> + <p> + “At Mr. Alibi’s,” Amanda had replied; “I only asked you this, Mr. + Nighthawk, to satisfy myself that my visions were true. I <i>saw</i> poor + Mr. Swartz go to Mr. Alibi’s, and ask for you, on the day you appointed. + When he was told that you had not come, he seemed very low-spirited, and + told Mr. Alibi that he <i>must</i> see you, to give you a paper. His life + was threatened, he said, on account of that paper. An officer and a lady + had discovered that he had that paper—it was as much as his life was + worth to keep it on his person—if Mr. Alibi would take it, and for + old times’ sake, put it away until <i>he</i> came back, he would pay him + as much gold as he could hold in both hands. Then he gave the paper to Mr. + Alibi, and went away, telling him to say nothing of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I then asked her,” continued Nighthawk, “where the paper could be found. + She replied that Alibi always carried it on his person. That was a few + days ago. I am going to-night to see him, and recover the paper.” + </p> + <p> + I had listened to this narrative with strange interest. This singular + woman was a curious problem. Were her <i>visions</i> really such as she + described them? Or did she only “put this and that together,” as the + phrase is, and by her marvellous acumen, sharpened possibly by disease, + arrive at results which defied the most penetrating glance of the sane? I + knew not—but reflecting often upon this subject since, have finally + come to the latter conclusion, as the more philosophic of the two. + Epilepsy is insanity of mind and body; and one of the most infallible + characteristics of insanity is cunning—which is only another word + for diseased and abnormal activity of brain. Amanda arrived at strange + results, but I think she attained them by disease. Her acumen in this + affair could be thus explained, almost wholly. As to the truth of the + explanation, I felt a singular presentiment that it was correct. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is curious enough,” I said, “and I wish you success, + Nighthawk. What of our other female friend—the fair lady you + arrested in Richmond?” + </p> + <p> + “She is safe enough, colonel, and I don’t think she will trouble us soon.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of it. I think her the more dangerous of <i>the two</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “And I agree with you.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you see Darke, last?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not met him for three months.” + </p> + <p> + “He can not be dead?” + </p> + <p> + “He may be wounded.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mohun—is he at his head-quarters?” + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk smiled. + </p> + <p> + “He is at Five Forks, to-day, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “And Willie Davenant?” + </p> + <p> + “In Richmond, on business at the war department.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! So I shall see neither—but another time.” + </p> + <p> + And mounting my horse, I added:— + </p> + <p> + “Good luck, Nighthawk.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, colonel—the same to you.” + </p> + <p> + And leaving Nighthawk crouching down beside his fire, I rode on. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0146" id="link2H_4_0146"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. — DRINKING TEA UNDER DIFFICULTIES. + </h2> + <p> + Pushing on, I reached the cavalry and horse artillery, which I was soon + done with—you see I dismiss “official” matters with commendable + rapidity, reader—then I went on across Roney’s bridge and along the + “Flat Foot road” toward Disaways. + </p> + <p> + Following, amid a great wind and falling boughs, this winding road, + stretching onward between its lofty walls of pines—a wild and + deserted track, outside of the pickets, and completely untravelled. I + recrossed Stony Creek, rode on over a bridle-path, and came just at sunset + in sight of the hill upon which Disaways raised its ancient gables, near + the Rowanty. + </p> + <p> + My horse neighed as he cantered up, and passed under the great oaks. He + seemed to feel that this was something like home to him now, and that his + day’s march was over. In fact, all the months of winter I had regularly + stopped at Disaways on my way to the cavalry at Hicksford. My friends had + pathetically remonstrated—“there was not a single picket on the + Rowanty in front of me, there, and I would certainly be captured some + day,”—but I had persisted in stopping there still, on every tour + which I made. How to resist the temptation! Disaways was just thirty miles + from Petersburg. I always reached its vicinity as night fell, on the dark + winter days. I was always cold, hungry, weary, depressed by the dull gray + skies; and I knew what awaited me there—a blazing fire, a good + supper, and Katy’s smiles brighter than sunshine! She always ran to greet + me, with both hands extended. Her blue eyes danced with joy, her rosy + cheeks glowed, her lips laughed, and were like carnations, her golden + ringlets fell in a shower over her white and delicate temples, or were + blown back in ripples by the wintry wind. + </p> + <p> + Could you have resisted that, my dear reader? Would you have shrunk from + Yankee scouting parties? For my part I thought I would risk it. I might be + surprised and captured at any moment—the territory was open to the + enemy—but I would have had a charming evening, would have been + cheered by Katy’s sunshine—while I was alive and free, I would have + lived, and in a manner the most delightful! + </p> + <p> + Hitherto some angel had watched over me, and Disaways had been unvisited + by the enemy’s scouting parties, without so much as a vedette at the + Halifax bridge, within half a mile. I had sat by the fire, eaten countless + suppers, laughed and conversed with my good friends, slept soundly in a <i>real + bed</i>, and gone on my way in the morning rejoicing. + </p> + <p> + I had thus always escaped surprise. No enemy ever annoyed me. It was the + old adage, however, of the pitcher that went to the well so often!—but + let me go on with my narrative. + </p> + <p> + As my horse uttered his shrill neigh now, ringing through the March + evening, the door opened and Katy ran out to greet me. She had never + looked more beautiful, and I recall still, as though I had seen it + yesterday, the charming smile on her red lips. The wind blew back her + ringlets till they resembled golden ripples—the rosy cheeks were + flushed—there madam! (I say this to some one who is leaning over my + shoulder, and laughing) don’t begrudge me these smiling memories! Katy was + only my little niece as it were—she is married and far away now. + Nay, Surry ought to love and be grateful to the little lady who took such + good care, in those grim days, of—your husband, madam! + </p> + <p> + Behind Katy appeared the faces of the excellent family, who cordially + greeted me. Behind all appeared the blushing but dandified Tom Herbert. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there is a straggler!” I said. “Why don’t you send him back to his + command, ladies? Every man should be at his post in this trying moment!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bother, my dear Surry! what a tongue you have!” exclaimed Tom. + </p> + <p> + “I see General Fitz was right, or his staff rather, in what they told me, + Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “What did they tell you, my dear boy?” + </p> + <p> + “That you were demoralized and captured!” + </p> + <p> + Sweet smile on the faces of the family at these words! + </p> + <p> + “That you had acknowledged your weakness, seen that further resistance was + hopeless, and were already negotiating a surrender to the enemy. Well, + Tom, what are the terms? Are they arranged?” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly I felt my hair pulled by an enemy from behind; and looking round + I saw Miss Katy passing by, with an immense appearance of innocence. Her + face was blushing; her lips emitted a low laugh; and seeing that no one + was looking at her, she raised her finger in silent menace at me. + </p> + <p> + This caused a diversion, and Tom was enabled to rally his forces. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Surry,” he said, smiling, with his delightfully foppish air, “it + always charms me to meet you, for you are always sparkling, brilliant, + full of wit; which reminds me of the good old days with Stuart! You have + only one fault, my boy, you think yourself a philosopher. Don’t do that, I + beg, Surry!—But what’s the news from Petersburg?” + </p> + <p> + I acquiesced in the change of topic, and gave Tom the news; but I was + looking at Katy. + </p> + <p> + More than ever before I admired that little “bird of beauty,” flitting + about with charming grace, and an irresistible business air, to get me my + supper, for the rest had just finished. This privilege she always claimed + when I came to Disaways; fighting furiously, if the excellent lady of the + manor attempted to supplant her. Looking at her, as she ran about now, + engaged in her most admirable occupation, I thought her lovelier than ever + before—certainly than when talking in the woods with Tom! You see + she was getting my supper, reader!—and it seemed to be a labor of + love. The little fairy ran on her tiptoes from sideboard to table; spread + a snowy napkin, and placed a gilt china plate upon it; made tea; covered + the table with edibles; and placed beside my plate a great goblet of + yellow cream, of the consistency of syrup. Then she poured out my tea, set + my chair to the table, and came with courtesy and laughing ceremony, to + offer me her arm, and lead me to my seat. + </p> + <p> + Men are weak, worthy reader, and the most “romantic and poetical” of us + all, have much of the animal in us. That is a mortifying confession. I was + terribly hungry, and at that moment I think my attention was more closely + riveted on the table, than even upon Miss Katy with her roses and + ringlets. + </p> + <p> + I therefore unbuckled my sabre, placed the little hand on my arm, and was + about to proceed toward the table, when a shot, accompanied by a shout, + was heard from the direction of the Rowanty. + </p> + <p> + I went and buckled on my sword again. Then seeing Tom rise quickly—to + get his horse ready, he said—I requested him to have my own + resaddled, and returned to the table. + </p> + <p> + I had just raised the cup of tea to my lips, amid warnings from the + family, to take care or I would be captured, when a cavalryman galloped up + the hill, and stopped in front of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Look out, the Yankees are coming!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + I glanced through the window, and recognized a man of Mohun’s command, who + also recognized me. + </p> + <p> + “How near are they?” I said, attempting to swallow the burning tea. + </p> + <p> + “Not a quarter of a mile off, colonel!” + </p> + <p> + “That will give me time,” I said. + </p> + <p> + And I applied myself again to the tea, which this time I poured out into + the saucer, in order to cool it. + </p> + <p> + “Look out, colonel!” cried the man. + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” + </p> + <p> + “At the gate.” + </p> + <p> + I finished the tea, and the goblet of cream just as the man shouted:— + </p> + <p> + “Here they are, right on you, colonel!” + </p> + <p> + And I heard the sound of a galloping horse, accompanied by shots at the + retreating cavalryman. + </p> + <p> + I went quickly to the window. A column of Federal cavalry was rapidly + ascending the hill. By the last beams of day I recognized Darke at the + head of the column; and by his side rode Mr. Alibi. I thought I could see + that Darke was thin and very pale, but was not certain. The light was + faint, and I had only one glance—discretion suggested a quick + retreat. + </p> + <p> + I just grazed capture—passing through the door, in rear of the + mansion, at the very moment when a number of the enemy, who had hastily + dismounted, rushed in at the front door. + </p> + <p> + Tom was mounted, and holding my horse, which the good boy had saddled with + his own hands. I leaped to saddle, and had scarcely done so, when a pistol + bullet whizzed by my head. It had crashed through a pane of the window + from within—and a loud shout followed. We had been perceived. + </p> + <p> + Under these circumstances, my dear reader, we always ran in the late war. + Some persons considered it disgraceful to run or dodge, but they were + civilians. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t run until you are obliged to, but then run like the ——!” + said a hard-fighting general. + </p> + <p> + And one day when a lady was telling General R.E. Lee, how a friend of hers + had dodged once, the general turned to the laughing officer, and said in + his deep voice, “That’s right captain, dodge all you can!” + </p> + <p> + I have often dodged, and more than once have—withdrawn rapidly. On + this occasion, Tom and I thought that retreat was the wisest course. In a + moment we had disappeared in the woods, followed by pistol shots and some + of the enemy. + </p> + <p> + They did not pursue us far. The Federal cavalry did not like the Virginia + woods. + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes their shots were no longer heard; their shouts died away; + and returning on our steps, we came once more in sight of Disaways and + reconnoitred. + </p> + <p> + The enemy were not visible, and riding up, we dismounted and entered.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: “I have taken up too much space with this trifle,” said + Colonel Surry when I read this, “but that hot tea was a real cup of tea! I + was really burned nearly to death, in attempting to swallow it! The + dialogue with my friend, the cavalryman, was real; and it is just these + trifles which cling to the memory, obscuring the ‘greater events!’”} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0147" id="link2H_4_0147"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. — MR. ALIBI. + </h2> + <p> + The enemy had eaten up my supper! A glance at the table told the whole + tragic history;—but the unnerved family were scarce in a condition + to think of my misfortune. + </p> + <p> + The enemy had staid for a few moments only, but in that time the family + had gathered important information of their intentions. They were going to + surprise and attack General Fitz Lee that night; and had not so much as + halted, as they passed the house, to gain a by-road beyond. They were + commanded, the men said, by a General Darke, and guided by a man living + near Monk’s Neck, whose name was Alibi. + </p> + <p> + This information of the enemy’s design banished all other thoughts from my + mind and Tom’s. We ran to our horses—and I think I heard something + like a kiss, in the shadow of the porch, as Tom and Katy parted. + </p> + <p> + We galloped into the woods, following a course parallel to that taken by + the enemy’s cavalry, and keeping as close to it as was safe. + </p> + <p> + “A sudden parting between yourself and Katy, Tom!” I said, as we galloped + on. “A touching spectacle! When will you be married?” + </p> + <p> + “In a week or two—to answer seriously, old fellow,” responded Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible!” + </p> + <p> + “Even so, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, at Disaways?” + </p> + <p> + “No, in Richmond. Katy’s family are refugees there, now; and I was going + to escort her to Petersburg to-morrow, but for these rascals—and I + will do it, yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! I hope the way will be clear then! Let us go on. There is no time + to lose in order to warn General Fitz!” + </p> + <p> + We pushed on, following bridle-paths, and making toward Dinwiddie + Court-House. Half an hour thus passed, and we were near the Roney’s Bridge + road, when, suddenly, the whole forest on our right blazed with shots. + Loud shouts accompanied the firing. The woods crackled as horsemen rushed + through them. An obstinate fight was going on in the darkness, between the + Federal and Confederate cavalry. + </p> + <p> + Plainly, the Confederates had not been surprised, and the dash and vim + with which they met the Federal onset, seemed to dishearten their enemies. + For fifteen minutes the combat continued with great fury, amid the pines; + the air was filled with quick spirts of flame, with the clash of sabres, + with loud cheers and cries; then the wave of Federal horsemen surged back + toward the Rowanty; the Confederates pressed them, with cheer; and the + affair terminated in a headlong pursuit. + </p> + <p> + Tom and myself had gotten into the <i>mêlée</i> early in the action, and + my feather had been cut out of my hat by a sabre stroke which a big blue + worthy aimed at me. This was my only accident, however. In fifteen minutes + I had the pleasure of seeing our friends run. + </p> + <p> + I followed with the rest, for about a mile. Then I drew rein, and turned + back—my horse was completely exhausted. I slowly returned toward + Dinwiddie Court-House; hesitated for a moment whether I would lodge at the + tavern; shook my head in a manner not complimentary to the hostelry; and + set out to spend the night at “Five Forks.” + </p> + <p> + I did not know, until some days afterward, that a serious accident had + happened to the worthy Mr. Alibi, guide and friend of General Darke. + </p> + <p> + He had been struck by a bullet in the fight; had flapped his wings; + cackled; tumbled from his horse; and expired. + </p> + <p> + Nighthawk’s visit thus went for nothing. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Alibi was dead. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0148" id="link2H_4_0148"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. — FROM FIVE FORKS TO PETERSBURG. + </h2> + <p> + I shall not dwell upon the evening and night spent at “Five Forks”—upon + whose threshold I was met and cordially greeted by the gray-haired Judge + Conway. + </p> + <p> + In the great drawing-room I found the young ladies, who hastened to + procure me supper; and I still remember that waiter of every species of + edibles,—that smiling landscape above which rose the spire-like neck + of a decanter! These incessant “bills of fare” will, I fear, revolt some + readers! But these are my memoirs; and <i>memoirs</i> mean recollections. + I have forgotten a dozen battles, but still remember that + decanter-phenomenon in March, 1865. I spent the evening in cordial + converse with the excellent Judge Conway and his daughters, and on the + next morning set out on my return to Petersburg. Mohun had not been + visible. At the first sound of the firing, he had mounted his horse and + departed at a gallop. + </p> + <p> + So much for my visit to Five Forks. I pass thus rapidly over it, with real + regret—lamenting the want of space which compels me to do so. + </p> + <p> + Do you love the queenly rose, and the modest lily of the valley, reader? I + could have shown you those flowers, in Georgia and Virginia Conway. They + were exquisitely cordial and high-bred—as was their gray-haired + father. They spoke, and moved, and looked, as only the high-bred can. + Pardon that obsolete word, “high-bred,” so insulting in the present epoch! + I am only jesting when I seem to intimate that I considered the stately + old judge better than the black servant who waited upon me at supper! + </p> + <p> + Of Mohun and Will Davenant, I had said nothing, in conversing with the + smiling young ladies. But I think Miss Georgia, stately and imposing as + she was, looked at me with a peculiar smile, which said, “You are <i>his</i> + friend, and cannot be a mere ordinary acquaintance to <i>me</i>!” + </p> + <p> + And here I ought to inform the reader, that since that first visit of mine + to Five Forks, affairs had marched with the young lady and her friend. + Mohun and Miss Georgia were about to be married, and I was to be the first + groomsman. The woman-hating Benedict of the banks of the Rappahannock had + completely succumbed, and the satirical Beatrice had also lost all her + wit. It died away in sighs, and gave place to reveries—those + reveries which come to maidens when they are about to embark on the + untried seas of matrimony. + </p> + <p> + But I linger at Five Forks when great events are on the march. Bidding my + hospitable host and his charming daughters good morning, I mounted my + horse and set out over the White Oak road toward Petersburg. As I + approached the Rowanty, I saw that the new defenses erected by Lee, were + continuous and powerful. Long tiers of breastworks, and redoubts crowning + every eminence, showed very plainly the great importance which Lee + attached to holding the position. + </p> + <p> + In fact, this was the key to the Southside road. Here was to take place + the last great struggle. + </p> + <p> + I rode on, in deep thought, but soon my reverie was banished. Just as I + reached the hill above Burgess’s, who should I see coming from the + direction of the Court-House—but Tom Herbert and Katy Dare! + </p> + <p> + Katy Dare, on a little pony, with a riding skirt reaching nearly to the + ground!—with her trim little figure clearly outlined by the fabric—with + a jaunty little riding hat balanced lightly upon her ringlets—with + her cheeks full of roses, her lips full of smiles, her eyes dancing like + two blue waves, which the wind agitates! + </p> + <p> + Don’t find fault with her, Mrs. Grundy, for having Tom only as an escort. + Those were stern and troubled times; our poor girls were compelled often + to banish ceremony. Katy had only this means to get back to her family, + and went with Tom as with her brother. + </p> + <p> + She held out both hands to me, her eyes dancing. Three years have passed + since then, but if I were a painter, I could make her portrait, + reproducing every detail! Nothing has escaped my memory; I still hear her + voice; the sun of 1868, not of 1865, seems to shine on the rosy cheeks + framed by masses of golden ringlets! + </p> + <p> + I would like to record our talk as we rode on toward Petersburg—describe + that ride—a charming episode, flashing like a gleam of sunlight, + amid the dark days, when the black clouds had covered the whole landscape. + In this volume there is so much gloom! Suffering and death have met us so + often! Can you wonder, my dear reader, that the historian of such an epoch + longs to escape, when he can, from the gloom of the tragedy, and paint + those scenes of comedy which occasionally broke the monotonous drama? To + write this book is not agreeable to me. I wear out a part of my life in + composing it. To sum up, in cold historic generalities that great epoch + would be little—but to enter again into the hot atmosphere; to live + once more that life of the past; to feel the gloom, the suspense, the + despair of 1865 again—believe me, that is no trifle! It wears away + the nerves, and tears the heart. The cheek becomes pale as the MS. grows! + The sunshine is yonder, but you do not see it. The past banishes the + present. Across the tranquil landscape of March, 1868, jars the cannon, + and rushes the storm wind of March, 1865! + </p> + <p> + The cloud was black above, therefore, but Katy Dare made the world bright + with her own sunshine, that day. All the way to Petersburg, she ran on in + the most charming prattle. The winding Boydton road, like the banks of the + lower Rowanty, was made vocal with her songs—the “Bird of Beauty” + and the whole repertoire. Nor was Tom Herbert backward in encouraging his + companion’s mirth. Tom was the soul of joy. He sang “Katy! Katy! don’t + marry any other!” with an unction which spoke in his quick color, and + “melting glances” as in the tones of his laughing voice. Riding along the + famous highway, upon which only a solitary cavalryman or a wagon + occasionally appeared, the little maiden and her lover made the pine-woods + ring with their songs, their jests, and their laughter! + </p> + <p> + It is good to be young and to love. Is there any thing more charming? For + my part I think that the curly head holds the most wisdom! Tell me which + was the happier—the gray-haired general yonder, oppressed by care, + or the laughing youth and maiden? It is true there is something nobler, + however, than youth, and joy, and love. It is to know that you are doing + your duty—to bear up, like Atlas, a whole world upon your shoulders—to + feel that, if you fall, the whole world will shake—and that history + will place your name beside that of Washington! + </p> + <p> + As the sun began to decline, we rode into Petersburg, and bidding Katy and + Tom adieu, I returned to my Cedars. + </p> + <p> + I had taken my last ride in the “low grounds” of the county of Dinwiddie; + I was never more to see Disaways, unless something carries me thither in + the future. To those hours spent in the old mansion, and with my comrades, + near it, I look back now with delight. Days and nights on the Rowanty! how + you come back to me in dreams! Happy hours at Disaways, with the cavalry, + with the horse artillery! you live still in my memory, and you will live + there always! Katy Dare runs to greet me again as in the past—again + her blue eyes dance, and the happy winds are blowing her bright curls into + ripples! She smiles upon me still—as in that “winter of discontent.” + Her cheerful voice again sounds. Her small hands are held out to me. All + things go—nothing lingers—but those days on the Rowanty, amid + the sunset gilded pines, come back with all their tints, and are fadeless + in my memory. + </p> + <p> + Going back thus in thought, to that winter of 1864, I recall the friendly + faces of Katy, and all my old comrades—I hear their laughter again, + touch their brave hands once more, and salute them, wishing them long life + and happiness. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell!” I murmur, “Rowanty, and Sappony, and Disaways! <i>Bonne + fortune!</i> old companions, little maiden, and kind friends all! It has + not been time lost to gather together my recollections—to live again + in the past,—to catch the aroma of those hours when kindness + smoothed the front of war! We no longer wear the gray—my mustache + only shows it <i>now</i>! but, thank heaven! many things in memory + survive. I think of these—of the old comrades, the old times. Health + and happiness attend you on your way through life, comrades! May the + silver spare the gold of your clustering ringlets, Katy! Joy and gladness + follow your steps! all friendly stars shine on you! Wherever you are, old + friends, may a kind heaven send you its blessing!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0149" id="link2H_4_0149"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. — LEE’S LAST GREAT BLOW. + </h2> + <p> + I reached Petersburg on the evening of March 24, 1865. + </p> + <p> + The ride was a gay comedy—but a tragedy was about to follow it. On + the very next morning, in the gray March dawn, Lee was going to strike his + last great blow at Grant. A column under Gordon, that brave of braves, was + going to be hurled headlong against Hare’s Hill, the enemy’s centre, just + below Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + That design was evidently the result of supreme audacity, or of despair. + In either case it indicated the terrible character of the crisis. There + could be no two opinions upon that point. Lee aimed at nothing less than + to cut General Grant’s army in two—to root himself doggedly in the + very centre of his enemies, and to force General Grant to draw back the + entire left wing of his army, or run the risk, by holding his position, to + have it destroyed. + </p> + <p> + Was Lee’s motive to open the way for his retreat over the Boydton road + toward Danville? I know not. Military critics say so, and it is certain + that, a month before, he had endeavored to retreat. The government had + checked him, then, but now, that step was plainly the only one left. He + might effect his retreat by forcing Grant to draw in his left wing for the + support of his centre. Lee could then retire from Hare’s Hill; make a + rapid march westward; push for North Carolina; and joining his forces with + those of Johnston, continue the war in the Gulf States, falling back if + necessary to Texas. + </p> + <p> + I have always thought that this was his design, but I was much too obscure + a personage to gain any personal knowledge of his plans. It is certain + that he designed one of two things—either to open the path for his + retreat, or to relieve his right wing toward Five Forks, which was bending + under the immense pressure upon it. Either motive was that of a good + soldier—and what seemed wild audacity was sound common sense. + </p> + <p> + For the rest, there was little else to do. Some change in the aspect of + things was vitally necessary. Grant had been re-enforced by a large + portion of Sherman’s army, and the Federal troops in front of Lee now + numbered about one hundred and fifty thousand. As Lee’s force, all told, + on his entire line, was only about forty thousand, the rupture of the + far-stretching defences, at some point, seemed only a question of time. + And scarcely that. Rather, a question of the moment selected by Grant for + his great blow. + </p> + <p> + At the end of March the hour of decisive struggle was plainly at hand. The + wind had dried the roads; artillery could move; the Federal left was + nearly in sight of the Southside road; one spring, and General Grant could + lay hold on that great war-artery, and then nothing would be left to Lee + but retreat or surrender. + </p> + <p> + Such was the condition of things at Petersburg, in these last days of + March. Grant was ready with his one hundred and fifty thousand infantry to + strike Lee’s forty thousand. Sheridan was ready with his twelve thousand + superbly mounted cavalry, to hurl himself against the two thousand + half-armed horsemen, on starved and broken-down animals, under command of + General Fitz Lee. A child could have told the result. The idea of + resistance, with any hope, in the defences, any longer, was a chimera. Lee + was a great soldier—history contains few greater. The army of + Northern Virginia was brave—the annals of the world show none + braver. But there was one thing which neither great generalship, or + supreme courage could effect. Opposed by one hundred and fifty thousand + well-fed troops, with every munition of war, forty thousand starving men, + defending a line of forty miles, must in the end meet capture or + destruction. + </p> + <p> + The country did not see it, but General Lee did. The civilians—the + brave ones—had a superstitious confidence in the great commander and + his old army. It had repulsed the enemy so uninterruptedly, that the + unskilled people believed it invincible. Lee had foiled Grant so regularly + that he was looked upon as the very God of Victory. Defeat could not come + to him. Glory would ever follow his steps. On the banners of the old army + of Northern Virginia, led by Lee, the eagles of victory would still, + perch, screaming defiance, and untamed to the end. + </p> + <p> + While the civilians were saying this, Lee was preparing to retreat. + Nothing blinded that clear vision—the eyes of the great chief + pierced every mist. He saw the blow coming—the shadow of the Grant + hammer as the weapon was lifted, ran before—on the 25th of March + Lee’s rapier made it last lunge. But when his adversary recoiled to avoid + it, it was Lee who was going to retreat. + </p> + <p> + That lunge was sudden and terrible—if it did not accomplish its + object. In the dark March morning, Gordon, “The Bayard of the army,” + advanced with three thousand men across the abatis in front of Hare’s + Hill. + </p> + <p> + What followed was a fierce tragedy, as brief and deadly as the fall of a + thunder-bolt. + </p> + <p> + Gordon rushed at the head of his column over the space which separated the + lines; stormed the Federal defences at the point of the bayonet; seized on + Fort Steadman, a powerful work, and the batteries surrounding it, then as + the light broadened in the East, he looked back for re-enforcements. None + came—he was holding the centre of Grant’s army with three thousand + men. What he had won was by sheer audacity—the enemy had been + surprised, and seemed laboring under a species of stupor; if not + supported, and supported at once, he was gone! + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward, Gordon was returning, shattered and bleeding at every + pore. The enemy had suddenly come to their senses after the stunning blow. + From the forts and redoubts crowning every surrounding hill issued the + thunder. Cannon glared, shell crashed, musketry rolled in long fusillade, + on three sides of the devoted Confederates. Huddled in the trenches they + were torn to pieces by a tempest of shell and bullets. + </p> + <p> + As the light broadened, the hills swarmed with blue masses hastening + toward the scene of the combat, to punish the daring assailants. Grant’s + army was closing in around the little band of Gordon. No help came to + them, they were being butchered; to stay longer there was mere suicide, + and the few who could do so, retreated to the Confederate lines. + </p> + <p> + They were few indeed. Of the splendid assaulting column, led by Gordon, + more than two thousand were killed or captured. He had split the stubborn + trunk, but it was the trunk which now held the wedge in its obdurate jaws. + </p> + <p> + Gordon retreated with his bleeding handful—it was the second or + third time that this king of battle had nearly accomplished + impossibilities by the magic of his genius. + </p> + <p> + He could do only what was possible. To stay yonder was impossible. And the + scarred veteran of thirty-three years, came back pale and in despair. + </p> + <p> + Lee had struck his last great blow, and it had failed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0150" id="link2H_4_0150"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. — THE WRESTLE FOR THE WHITE OAK ROAD. + </h2> + <p> + It is unsafe to wound the wild-boar, unless the wound be mortal. To change + the figure, Grant had parried the almost mortal thrust of Lee; and now, + with the famous hammer lifted and whirled aloft, aimed the final and + decisive blow at the crest of his great adversary. + </p> + <p> + On Wednesday, March 29th, the Federal commander commenced the general + movement, which had for its object the destruction of Lee’s right wing, + and the occupation of the Southside road. + </p> + <p> + Before dawn, the masses of blue infantry began to move westward across the + Rowanty, laying down bridges over the watercourses, as the columns passed + on; and on the night of the same day, the corps of Humphreys and Warren + were near Dinwiddie Court-House with their extreme right guarded, by + Sheridan’s cavalry. + </p> + <p> + Such was the work of Wednesday. The great moment had evidently arrived. + Lee penetrated at a single glance the whole design of his adversary; + collected about fifteen thousand men, nearly half his army, and leaving + Longstreet north of the James, and only a skirmish line around Petersburg, + marched westward, beyond the Rowanty, to meet the enemy on the White Oak + road. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of the 30th, all was ready for General Grant’s great blow. + But the elements were hostile to the Federal side. In the night, a heavy + rain had fallen. All day on the 30th, it continued to rain, and military + movements were impossible. The two great opponents looked at each other,—lines + drawn up for the decisive struggle. + </p> + <p> + On the 31st, Grant was about to open the attack on Lee, when that + commander saved him the trouble. The Virginian seemed resolved to die in + harness, and advancing. + </p> + <p> + The corps of Humphreys and Warren had advanced from Dinwiddie Court-House + toward the Southside road, and Warren was in sight of the White Oak road, + when, suddenly, Lee hurled a column against him, and drove him back. The + Confederates followed with wild cheers, endeavoring to turn the enemy’s + left, and finish them. But the attempt was in vain. Federal + re-enforcements arrived. Lee found his own flank exposed, and fell back + doggedly to the White Oak road again, having given the enemy a great + scare, but effecting nothing. + </p> + <p> + As he retired, intelligence reached him that Sheridan’s cavalry were + advancing upon Five Forks. That position was the key of the whole + surrounding country. If Sheridan seized and occupied this great <i>carrefour</i>, + Lee’s right was turned. + </p> + <p> + A column was sent without delay, and reached the spot to find Sheridan in + possession of the place. Short work was made of him. Falling upon the + Federal cavalry, Pickett and Fitzhugh Lee drove them back upon Dinwiddie—pushed + rapidly after them—and, but for the terrible swamp, into which the + late rains had converted the low grounds, would have followed them to the + Court-House, and gotten in rear of the left wing of the Federal army. + </p> + <p> + That was the turning point. If Pickett and Fitz Lee had reached Dinwiddie + court-house, and attacked in the enemy’s rear, while Lee assailed them in + front, it is difficult to believe that the battle would not have resulted + in a Confederate victory. + </p> + <p> + Such was the alarm of General Grant at the new aspect of affairs, that + late at night he withdrew Warren, and ordered him to hurry toward + Dinwiddie Court-House, to succor Sheridan in his hour of need. Then if our + flanking column could have pushed on—if Lee had then advanced—but + all this is idle, reader. Providence had decreed otherwise. The flanking + column could not advance—at ten at night it was withdrawn by Lee—midnight + found the two armies resting on their arms, awaiting the morning of the + first of April. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0151" id="link2H_4_0151"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. — THE BRIDEGROOM. + </h2> + <p> + I have endeavored to present a rapid, but accurate summary of the great + events which took place on the lines around Petersburg, from the morning + of the 29th of March, when General Grant began his general movement, to + the night of the 31st, when he confronted Lee on the White Oak road, + ready, after a day of incessant combat, which had decided little, to renew + the struggle on the next morning for the possession of the Southside road. + </p> + <p> + This summary has been, of necessity, a brief and general one. For this + volume has for its object, rather to narrate the fortunes of a set of + individuals, than to record the history of an epoch, crowded with tragic + scenes. I cannot here paint the great picture. The canvass and the time + are both wanting. The rapid sketch which I have given will present a + sufficient outline. I return, now, to those personages whose lives I have + tried to narrate, and who were destined to reach the catastrophe in their + private annals at the moment when the Confederacy reached its own. + </p> + <p> + I shall, therefore, beg the reader to leave the Confederate forces at bay + on the White Oak road—the flanking column under Pickett and Johnson + falling back on Five Forks—and accompany me to the house of the same + name, within a mile of the famous <i>carrefour</i>, where, on the night of + the 31st of March, some singular scenes are to be enacted. + </p> + <p> + It was the night fixed for Mohun’s marriage. I had been requested to act + as his first groomsman; and, chancing to encounter him during the day, he + had informed me that he adhered to his design of being married in spite of + every thing. + </p> + <p> + When night came at last, on this day of battles, I was wearied out with + the incessant riding on staff duty; but I remembered my promise; again + mounted my horse; and set out for “Five Forks,” where, in any event, I was + sure of a warm welcome. + </p> + <p> + Pushing on over the White Oak road, I turned southward at Five Forks, and + riding on toward Judge Conway’s, had just reached the road coming in from + Dinwiddie Court-House, when I heard a cavalier approaching from that + quarter, at a rapid gallop. + </p> + <p> + He was darting by, toward Five Forks, when by the starlight I recognized + Mohun. + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” I shouted. + </p> + <p> + He knew my voice, and drew rein with an exclamation of pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, my dear old friend,” he said, grasping my hand. “I knew you would + not fail me.” + </p> + <p> + “Your wedding will take place, Mohun?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, battle or no battle.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. Life is uncertain. You will hear cannon instead of + marriage-bells probably, at your nuptials—but that will be + inspiring. What is the news from the Court-House?” + </p> + <p> + “Our infantry is falling back.” + </p> + <p> + “The condition of the roads stopped them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was impossible to get on; and they have been recalled by order of + General Lee. Listen! There is the column coming—they are falling + back to Five Forks, a mile north of Judge Conway’s.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, as we rode on now, I heard the muffled tramp of a column, and the + rattle of artillery chains in the woods. + </p> + <p> + “The enemy will follow, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Not before morning, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + I smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Meanwhile you are making good use of the time to get married. What will + you do with Miss Georgia?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Mrs. Mohun, Surry!” he said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she will be sent off—her father will take the whole family to + Petersburg in the morning, to avoid the battle which will probably take + place in this vicinity to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. I predict a thundering fight here, in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Which I hope I shall not balk in, my dear Surry,” said Mohun, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any danger of that?” + </p> + <p> + “I really don’t know. It is not good for a soldier to be too happy. It + makes him shrink from bullets, and raises visions of a young widow, in + mourning, bending over a tomb.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! stop that folly!” I said. “Is it possible that a stout-hearted + cavalier like General Mohun can indulge in such apprehensions—and at + a moment as happy as this?” + </p> + <p> + I saw him smile sadly, in the dim starlight. “I am much changed,” he said, + gently; “I no longer risk my life recklessly—trying to throw it + away. Once, as you know, Surry, I was a poor outcast, and my conscience + was burdened with a terrible crime. Life was little to me, then, and I + would not have cared if a bullet cut it short. I was reckless, desperate, + and had no hope. Now, I have hope—and a great deal more than all—I + have happiness. My hands are not stained with the blood of that man and + woman—I have the love of a pure girl who is going to give her life + to me—and I have prayed to God for pardon, and been pardoned, I feel—else + that All-merciful Being would not make my poor life bright again! But let + me stop this talk! A strange conversation for a wedding night! Let me say + again, however, my dear Surry, that I have no enmities now. I no longer + hate <i>that man</i>, and would not harm <i>that woman</i> for aught on + earth. Let them go—they are indifferent to me. I appeal to God to + witness the purity of my sentiments, and the sincerity with which I have + prayed, ‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who have + trespassed against us!’” + </p> + <p> + I reached out my hand in the darkness, and pressed that of the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Mohun—there is something greater, more noble, than + vengeance—it is forgiveness. More than ever, I can say now of you, + what I said after hearing your history that night.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that, old friend?” + </p> + <p> + “That you were no longer the bitter misanthrope, hating your species, and + snarling at all things—no longer the gay cavalier rushing to battle + as a pastime—that you were altered, entirely changed, rather—that + your character was elevated and purified—and that now, you were a + patriotic soldier, fit to live or die with Lee!” + </p> + <p> + “Would that I were!” he murmured, letting his head fall upon his breast. + </p> + <p> + “That is much to say of any man; but I will add more. You are worthy of + her—the blossom of Five Forks!” + </p> + <p> + As I uttered these words, we reached the gate. + </p> + <p> + A moment afterward we had entered the grounds, tethered our horses, and + were hastening to the house. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0152" id="link2H_4_0152"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. — THE CEREMONY. + </h2> + <p> + On the threshold we were met by Judge Conway, with a bow and a smile. + </p> + <p> + He pressed our hands cordially, but with a covert sadness, which I suppose + comes to the heart of every father who is about to part with a beloved + daughter—to give up his place as it were to another—and then + we entered the great drawing-room where a gentleman in a white cravat and + black coat awaited us. No other persons were visible. + </p> + <p> + The great apartment was a charming spectacle, with its brilliant lights + and blazing fire. The frescoed walls danced in light shadows; the long + curtains were drawn down, completely excluding the March air. Coming in + out of the night, this smiling interior was inexpressibly home-like and + delightful. + </p> + <p> + As we entered, the clerical-looking gentleman rose, modestly, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “The Reverend Mr. Hope,” said Judge Conway, presenting him. And Mr. Hope, + with the same gentle smile upon his lips, advanced and shook hands. + </p> + <p> + At that name I had seen Mohun suddenly start, and turn pale. Then his head + rose quickly, his pallor disappeared, and he said with entire calmness: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hope and myself are old acquaintances, I may even say, old friends.” + </p> + <p> + To these words Mr. Hope made a gentle and smiling reply; and it was plain + that he was very far from connecting the personage before him with the + terrible tragedy which had taken place at Fonthill, in December, 1856. + What was the origin of this ignorance? Had the worthy man, in his remote + parsonage, simply heard of the sudden disappearance of Mohun, the lady, + and <i>her brother</i>? Had his solitary life prevented him from hearing + the vague rumors and surmises which must have followed that event? This + was the simplest explanation, and I believe the correct one. Certain it is + that the worthy Mr. Hope received us with smiling cordiality. Doubtless he + recalled the past, but was too kind to spread a gloom over Mohun’s + feelings by <i>alluding to his loss</i>. In a few moments we were seated, + and Judge Conway explained the presence of the parson. + </p> + <p> + The explanation was simple. Mohun, incessantly engaged on duty, had begged + Judge Conway to send a message to the parson of his parish; the parson was + absent, leaving his church temporarily in charge of his brother-clergyman, + Mr. Hope; thus that gentleman by a strange chance, was about to officiate + at Mohun’s second marriage, as he had at his first. + </p> + <p> + I have explained thus, perhaps tediously, an incident which struck me at + the time as most singular. Are there fatalities in this world? The + presence of the Reverend Mr. Hope on that night at “Five Forks,” resembled + one of those strange coincidences which make us believe in the doctrine of + destiny. + </p> + <p> + Having exchanged compliments with the clergyman, Mohun and I were shown to + a dressing-room. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had the door closed, than I said to Mohun:— + </p> + <p> + “That is strange, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Singular, indeed,” he replied, calmly, “but I am not averse to this + worthy man’s presence, Surry. I have no concealments. I have related my + whole life to Judge Conway and Georgia. They both know the circumstances + which lead to the conviction that <i>that woman</i> was already married, + when she married <i>me</i>—that the proof of her marriage with Darke + exists. Judge Conway is a lawyer, and knows that, in legal phraseology, + the array of circumstances ‘excludes every other hypothesis;’ thus it is + not as an adventurer that my father’s son enters this house: all is known, + and I do not shrink from the eye of this good man, who is about to + officiate at my marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he know all?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not. I had half resolved to tell him. But there is no time now. + Let us get ready; the hour is near.” + </p> + <p> + And Mohun looked at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “Nine o’clock,” he said. “The ceremony takes place at ten.” + </p> + <p> + And he rapidly made his toilet. The light fell on a superb-looking + cavalier. He was clad in full dress uniform, with the braid and stars of a + brigadier-general. The erect figure was clearly defined by the coat, + buttoned from chin to waist. Above, rose the proudly-poised head, with the + lofty brow, the brilliant black eyes, the dark imperial and mustache, + beneath which you saw the firm lips. + </p> + <p> + We descended to the drawing-room, where Judge Conway and Mr. Hope awaited + us. + </p> + <p> + Fifteen minutes afterward light steps were heard upon the great staircase; + the old statesman opened the door, and Miss Georgia Conway entered the + apartment, leaning upon the arm of her father. + </p> + <p> + She was clad in simple white muslin, with a string of pearls in her dark + hair; and I have never seen a more exquisite beauty. Her cheeks glowed + with fresh roses; a charming smile just parted her lips; and her dark + eyes, grand and calm, shone out from the snow-white forehead, from which + her black hair was carried back in midnight ripples, ending in profuse + curls. It was truly a <i>grande dame</i> whom I gazed at on this night, + and, with eyes riveted upon the lovely face, I very nearly lost sight of + Miss Virginia, who followed her sister. + </p> + <p> + I hastened to offer my arm to the modest little flower, and followed Judge + Conway, who approached the parson, standing, prayer-book in hand, in the + middle of the apartment. + </p> + <p> + In another instant Mohun was standing beside Miss Georgia, and the + ceremony began. + </p> + <p> + It was not destined to proceed far. + </p> + <p> + The clergyman had nearly finished the exhortation with which the “form for + the solemnization of matrimony,” commences. + </p> + <p> + All at I once I was certain that I heard steps on the portico, and in the + hall of the mansion. + </p> + <p> + The rest seemed not to hear them, however, and Mr. Hope continued the + ceremony. + </p> + <p> + “Into this holy estate,” he went on, “these two persons present come now + to be joined. If any man can show just cause why they may not lawfully be + joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his + peace.” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered the words the door was suddenly burst open, and Darke + entered the apartment with <i>the gray woman</i>. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of the stupor of astonishment, she advanced straight toward + Georgia Conway, twined her arm in that of the young lady, and said + quietly:— + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, cousin? I am Lucretia Conway. Your father is my uncle. I + have come to show just cause why you cannot marry General Mohun—my + husband!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0153" id="link2H_4_0153"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. — WHAT OCCURRED AT “FIVE FORKS,” ON THE NIGHT OF MARCH 31, 1865. + </h2> + <p> + Mohun turned like a tiger, and was evidently about to throw himself upon + Darke. I grasped his arm and restrained him. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” I said. + </p> + <p> + The house was surrounded by trampling hoofs, and clattering sabres. + </p> + <p> + Darke had not drawn his pistol, and now glanced at me. His face was thin + and pale—he was scarce the shadow of himself—but his eyes + “burned” with a strange fire under his bushy brows. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Colonel Surry!” he said, in his deep voice, to me, + “restrain your friend. Let no one stir, or they are dead. The house is + surrounded by a squadron of my cavalry. You are a mile from all succor. + You can make no resistance. I am master of this house. But I design to + injure no one. Sit down, madam,” he added, to his companion, “I wish to + speak first.” + </p> + <p> + The sentences followed each other rapidly. The speaker’s accent was cold, + and had something metallic in it. The capture of the party before him + seemed to be no part of his design. + </p> + <p> + All at once the voice of the strange woman was heard in the silence. She + quietly released the arm of Georgia Conway, who had drawn back with an + expression of supreme disdain; and calmly seating herself in a chair, + gracefully cut some particles of dust from her gray riding habit with a + small whip which she carried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let us converse,” she said, with her eyes riveted upon Georgia + Conway, “nothing can be more pleasant than these sweet family reunions!” + </p> + <p> + Judge Conway glanced at the speaker with eyes full of sudden rage. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, madam,” he exclaimed, “who makes this impudent claim of + belonging to my family?” + </p> + <p> + “I have already told you,” was the satirical reply of the woman. + </p> + <p> + “And you, sir!” exclaimed the old judge, suddenly turning and confronting + Darke, “perhaps you, too, are a member of the Conway family?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly,” was the cold reply. + </p> + <p> + “Your name, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Mortimer Davenant.” + </p> + <p> + Judge Conway gazed at the speaker with stupor. + </p> + <p> + “You that person?—you the son of General Arthur Davenant?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am the son of General Arthur Davenant of the Confederate States + army—General Davenant, whom you hate and despise as a felon and + murderer—and I have come here to-night to relieve him of that + imputation; to tell you that it was I and not he, who murdered your + brother! + </p> + <p> + “A moment, if you please, sir,” continued the speaker, in the same low, + cold tone, “do not interrupt me, I beg. I have little time, and intend to + be brief. You believe that your brother, George Conway, was put to death + by General Davenant. Here is the fact of the matter: I saw him at + Dinwiddie Court-House; knew he had a large sum of money on his person; + followed him, attacked him, murdered him—and with General Davenant’s + pen-knife, which I had accidentally come into possession of. Then I stole + the knife from the court-house, to prevent his conviction;—wrote and + sent to him on the day of his trial a full confession of the murder, + signed with my name—and that confession he would not use; he would + not inculpate his son; for ten years he has chosen rather to labor under + the imputation of murder, than blacken the name of a castaway son, whose + character was wretched already, and whom he believed dead. + </p> + <p> + “That is what I came here, to-night, to say to you, sir. I am a wretch—I + know that—it is a dishonor to touch my hand, stained with every + vice, and much crime. But I am not entirely lost, though I told—my + father—so, when I met him, not long since. Even a dog will not turn + and bite the hand that has been kind to him. I was a gentleman once, and + am a vulgar fellow now—but there is something worse than crime, in + my estimation; it is cowardice and ingratitude. You shall not continue to + despise my father; he is innocent of that murder. You have no right to + continue your opposition to my brother’s marriage with your daughter, for + he is not the son of the murderer of your brother. <i>I</i> count for + nothing in this. I am not my father’s son, or my brother’s brother. I am + an outcast—a lost man—dead, as far as they are concerned. It + was to tell you this that I have come here to-night—and for that + only.” + </p> + <p> + “And—this woman?” said Judge Conway, pale, and glaring at the + speaker. + </p> + <p> + “Let her speak for herself,” said Darke, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “I will do so, with pleasure,” said the woman, coolly, but with an + intensely satirical smile. That smile chilled me—it was worse than + any excess of rage. The glance she threw upon Georgia Conway was one of + such profound, if covert, hatred, that it drove my hand to my hilt as + though to grasp some weapon. + </p> + <p> + “I will be brief,” continued the woman, rising slowly, and looking at + Georgia Conway, with that dagger-like smile. “General Darke-Davenant has + related a pleasing little history. I will relate another, and address + myself more particularly to Judge Conway—my dear uncle. He does not, + or will not, recognize me; and I suppose I may have changed. But that is + not important. I am none the less Lucretia Conway. You do not remember + that young lady, perhaps, sir; your proud Conway blood has banished from + your memory the very fact of her former existence. And yet she existed—she + exists still—she is speaking to you—unbosoming herself in the + midst of her dear family! But to tell my little story—it will not + take many minutes. I was born here, you remember, uncle, and grew up what + is called headstrong. At sixteen, I fell in love with a young Adonis with + a mustache; and, as you and the rest opposed my marriage, obdurately + refusing your consent, I yielded to the eloquence of Mr. Adonis, and + eloped with him, going to the North. Here we had a quarrel. I grew angry, + and slapped Adonis; and he took his revenge by departing without leaving + me a wedding-ring to recall his dear image. Then I met that gentleman—General + Darke-Mortimer-Davenant! We took a fancy to each other; we became friends; + and soon afterward travelled to the South, stopping in Dinwiddie. Here I + made the acquaintance of General Mohun—there he stands; he fell + desperately in love with me—married me—Parson Hope will tell + you that—and then attempted to murder me, without rhyme or reason. + Luckily, I made my escape from the monster! rejoined my friend, General + Darke-Davenant; the war came on; I came back here; have been lately + arrested, but escaped by bribing the rebel jailers; only, however, to find + that my naughty husband is going to marry my cousin Georgia! Can you + wonder, then, that I have exerted myself to be present at the interesting + ceremony? That I have yielded to my fond affection, and come to say to my + dear Georgia, ‘Don’t marry my husband, cousin!’ And yet you frown at me—you + evidently hate me—you think I am <i>lying</i>—that I was + married before, perhaps. Well, if that be the case, where is the proof of + that marriage?” “Here it is!” said a voice, which made the woman turn + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + And opening the heavy window-curtains, which had, up to this moment, + concealed him, Nighthawk advanced into the apartment, holding in his hand + a paper. + </p> + <p> + A wild rage filled the eyes of the woman, but now so smiling. Her hand + darted to her bosom, and I saw the gleam of a poniard. + </p> + <p> + “This paper,” said Nighthawk, coolly, “was found on the dead body of a man + named Alibi, who had stolen it. See, Judge Conway; it is in regular form. + ‘At Utica, New York, Mortimer Davenant to Lucretia Conway.’ Attested by + seal and signature. There can be no doubt of its genuineness.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a hoarse exclamation was heard, and a poniard gleamed in the hand + of the woman. + </p> + <p> + With a single bound, she reached Georgia Conway, and struck at her heart. + The corsage of the young lady, however, turned the poniard, and at the + same instant a thundering volley of musketry resounded without. + </p> + <p> + Furious cries were then heard; the wild trampling of horses; and a loud + voice ordering:— + </p> + <p> + “Put them to the bayonet!” + </p> + <p> + Darke drew his sword, and reached the side of the woman at a bound. + Throwing his arms around her, he raised her, and rushed, with his burden, + through the hall, toward the lawn, where a fierce combat was in progress. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the woman uttered a wild cry, and relaxed her grasp upon his + neck. A bullet had buried itself in her bosom. + </p> + <p> + Darke’s hoarse and menacing voice echoed the cry; but he did not release + the body; with superhuman strength he raised it aloft, and bounded down + the steps. + </p> + <p> + As he reached the bottom, a man rushed upon him, and drove his bayonet + through his breast. It was withdrawn, streaming with blood. + </p> + <p> + “Put all to the bayonet!” shouted the voice of General Davenant, as he + charged with his young son, Charles, beside him. + </p> + <p> + At that voice Darke stretched out both hands, and dropping his sword, + uttered a cry, which attracted the general’s attention. + </p> + <p> + For an instant they stood facing each other—unutterable horror in + the eyes of General Davenant. + </p> + <p> + “I am—done for,” exclaimed Darke, a bloody foam rushing to his lips, + “but—I have told him—that <i>I</i> was the murderer—that + <i>you</i> were innocent. Give me your hand, father!” + </p> + <p> + General Davenant leaped to the ground, and with a piteous groan received + the dying man in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “I am a wretch—I know that—but I was a Davenant once”—came + in low murmurs. “Tell Will, he can marry now, for I will be dead—kiss + me once, Charley!” + </p> + <p> + The weeping boy threw himself upon his knees, and pressed his lips to + those of his brother. + </p> + <p> + As he did so, the wounded man fell back in his father’s arms, and expired. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0154" id="link2H_4_0154"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. — FIVE FORKS. + </h2> + <p> + On the day after these events, Lee’s extreme right at Five Forks, was + furiously attacked, and in spite of heroic resistance, the little force + under Pickett and Fitzhugh Lee was completely routed and dispersed. + </p> + <p> + Do you regard that term “heroic,” as merely rhetorical, reader? + </p> + <p> + Hear a Northern writer, a wearer of blue, but too honest not to give brave + men their due:— + </p> + <p> + “Having gained the White Oak road, Warren changed front again to the + right, and advanced westward, so continually to take in flank and rear + whatever hostile force still continued to hold the right of the + Confederate line. This had originally been about three miles in extent, + but above two-thirds of it were now carried. Yet, vital in all its parts, + what of the two divisions remained, still continued the combat with + unyielding mettle. Parrying the thrusts of the cavalry from the front, + this poor scratch of a force threw back its left in a new and short + crochet, so as to meet the advance of Warren, who continued to press in at + right angles to the White Oak road. When the infantry, greatly elated with + their success, but somewhat disorganized by marching and fighting so long + in the woods, arrived before this new line, they halted and opened an + untimely fusillade, though there had been orders not to halt. The + officers, indeed, urged their men forward, but they continued to fire + without advancing. Seeing this hesitation, Warren dashed forward, calling + to those near him to follow. Inspired by his example, the color-bearers + and officers all along the front, sprang out, and without more firing, the + men charged at the <i>pas de course</i>, capturing all that remained of + the enemy. The history of the war presents no equally splendid + illustration of personal magnetism.... A charge of the cavalry completed + the rout, and the remnants of the divisions of Pickett and Johnson fled + westward from Five Forks, pursued for many miles, and until long after + dark, by the mounted divisions of Merritt and McKenzie.” + </p> + <p> + That is picturesque, is it not? It is amusing, too—though so tragic. + </p> + <p> + You can see that “poor scratch of a force” fighting to the death, can you + not? You can see the poor little handful attacked by Sheridan’s crack + cavalry corps in front, and then suddenly by Warren’s superb infantry + corps in both their flank and rear. You can see them, game to the last, + throwing back their left in the crochet to meet Warren; see that good + soldier cheering on his men “greatly elated,” but “somewhat disorganized,” + too—so much so that they suddenly halt, and require the “personal + magnetism” of the general to inspire them, and bring them up to the work. + Then the little scratch gives way—they are a handful, and two corps + are pressing them. They have “continued the combat with unyielding + mettle,” as long as they could—now they are driven; and on rushes + the thundering cavaliers to destroy them! Sound the bugles! Out with + sabres! charge! ride over them! “Hurra!” So’the little scratch disappears. + </p> + <p> + General Warren, who won that fight, was a brave man, and did not boast of + it. Tell me, general—you are honest—is any laurel in your + hardwon wreath, labelled “Five Forks?” It would be insulting that other + laurel labelled “Gettysburg,” where you saved Meade! + </p> + <p> + In that bitter and desperate fight, Corse’s infantry brigade and Lee’s + cavalry won a renown which can never be taken from them. The infantry + remained unbroken to the last moment; and a charge of Lee’s cavalry upon + Sheridan’s drove them back, well nigh routed. + </p> + <p> + But nothing could avail against such numbers. The Confederate infantry, + cavalry, and artillery at last gave way. Overwhelmed by the great force, + they were shattered and driven. Night descended upon a battlefield covered + with heaps of dead and wounded, the blue mingled with the gray. + </p> + <p> + Among those wounded, mortally to all appearances, was Willie Davenant. He + had fought with the courage of the bull-dog which lay <i>perdu</i> under + the shy bearing of the boy. All the army had come to recognize it, by this + time; and such was the high estimate which General R.E. Lee placed upon + him, that it is said he was about to be offered the command of a brigade + of infantry. Before this promotion reached him, however, the great crash + came; and the brave youth was to fall upon the field of Five Forks, where + he fought his guns obstinately to the very last. + </p> + <p> + It was just at nightfall that he fell, with a bullet through his breast. + </p> + <p> + The enemy were pressing on hotly, and there was no time to bring off the + wounded officer. It seemed useless, too. He lay at full length, in a pool + of blood, and was breathing heavily. To attempt to move him, even if it + were possible, threatened him with instant death. + </p> + <p> + A tòuching incident followed. The enemy carried Five Forks as night + descended. They had advanced so early, that Judge Conway and his daughters + had had no time to leave their home. Compelled to remain thus, they did + not forget their duty to the brave defenders of the Confederacy, and when + the firing ceased, the old statesman and his daughters went to succor the + wounded. + </p> + <p> + Among the first bodies which they saw was that of Will Davenant. One gleam + of the lantern carried by the Federal surgeon told all; and Virginia + Conway with a low moan knelt down and raised the head of the wounded boy, + placing it upon her bosom. + </p> + <p> + As she did so, he sighed faintly, and opening his eyes, looked up into her + face. The blood rushed to his cheeks; he attempted to stretch out his + arms; then falling back upon her bosom the young officer fainted. + </p> + <p> + A cry from the girl attracted the attention of the Federal surgeon who was + attending to the wounded Federalists. He was a kind-hearted man, and came + to the spot whence he had heard the cry. + </p> + <p> + “He is dying!” moaned the poor girl, with bloodless cheeks. “Can you do + nothing for him? Oh, save him, sir!—only save him!—have pity + upon me!” + </p> + <p> + She could say no more. + </p> + <p> + The surgeon bent over and examined the wound. When he had done so, he + shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “His wound is mortal, I am afraid,” he said, “but I will do all I can for + him.” + </p> + <p> + And with a rapid hand he stanched the blood, and bandaged the wound. + </p> + <p> + The boy had not stirred. He remained still, with his head leaning upon the + girl’s breast. + </p> + <p> + “Can he live?” she murmured, in a tone almost inaudible. + </p> + <p> + “If he is not moved, he may possibly live; but if he is moved his death is + certain. The least change in the position of his body, for some hours from + this time, will be fatal.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he shall not have to change his position!” exclaimed the girl. + </p> + <p> + And, with the pale face still lying upon her bosom, she remained + immovable. + </p> + <p> + Throughout all the long night she did not move or disturb the youth. He + had fallen into a deep sleep, and his head still lay upon her bosom. + </p> + <p> + Who can tell what thoughts came to that brave child as she thus watched + over his sleep? The long hours on the lonely battle-field, full of the + dead and dying, slowly dragged on. The great dipper wheeled in circle; the + moon rose; the dawn came; still the girl, with the groans of the dying + around her, held the wounded boy in her arms.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Fact.} + </p> + <p> + Is there a painter in Virginia who desires a great subject? There it is; + and it is historical. + </p> + <p> + When the sun rose, Willie Davenant opened his eyes, and gazed up into her + face. Their glances met; their blushing cheeks were near each other; the + presence of her, whom he loved so much, seemed to have brought back life + to the shattered frame. + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward he was moved to “Five Forks,” where he was tenderly + cared for. The old statesman had forgotten his life-long prejudice, and + was the first to do all in his power to save the boy. + </p> + <p> + A month afterward he was convalescent. A week more and he was well. In the + summer of 1865 he was married to Virginia Conway. + </p> + <p> + As for Mohun, his marriage ceremony, so singularly interrupted, had been + resumed and completed an hour after the death of the unfortunate Darke and + his companion. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0155" id="link2H_4_0155"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII. — “THE LINE HAS BEEN STRETCHED UNTIL IT HAS BROKEN, COLONEL.”. + </h2> + <p> + At nightfall, on the first of April, the immense struggle had really + ended. + </p> + <p> + Lee’s whole right was swept away; he was hemmed in, in Petersburg; what + remained for General Grant was only to give the <i>coup de grace</i> to + the great adversary, who still confronted him, torn and shattered, but + with a will and courage wholly unbroken. + </p> + <p> + It is not an exaggeration, reader. Judge for yourself. I am to show you + Lee as I saw him in this moment of terrible trial: still undaunted, + raising his head proudly amid the crash of all around him; great in the + hour of victory; in the hour of ruin, sublime. + </p> + <p> + Grant attacked again at dawn, on the morning of the second of April. It + was Sunday, but no peaceful church-bells disturbed the spring air. The + roar of cannon was heard, instead, hoarse and menacing, in the very + suburbs of the devoted city. + </p> + <p> + There was no hope now—all was ended—but the Confederate arms + were to snatch a last, and supreme laurel, which time can not wither. + Attacked in Fort Gregg, by General Gibbon, Harris’s Mississippi brigade, + of two hundred and fifty men, made one of those struggles which throw + their splendor along the paths of history. + </p> + <p> + “This handful of skilled marksmen,” says a Northern writer, “conducted the + defence with such intrepidity, that Gibbon’s forces, surging repeatedly + against it, were each time thrown back.” + </p> + <p> + That is the generous but cold statement of an opponent; but it is + sufficient. It was not until seven o’clock that Gibbon stormed the fort. + Thirty men only out of the two hundred and fifty were left, but they were + still fighting. + </p> + <p> + In the attack the Federal loss was “about five hundred men,” says the + writer above quoted. + </p> + <p> + So fell Lee’s last stronghold on this vital part of his lines. Another + misfortune soon followed. The gallant A.P. Hill, riding ahead of his men, + was fired on and killed, by a small detachment of the enemy whom he had + halted and ordered to surrender. + </p> + <p> + He fell from his horse, and was borne back, already dying. That night, + amid the thunder of the exploding magazines, the commander, first, of the + “light division,” and then of a great corps—the hero of Cold Harbor, + Sharpsburg, and a hundred other battles—was buried in the city + cemetery, just in time to avoid seeing the flag he had fought under, + lowered. + </p> + <p> + Peace to the ashes of that brave! Old Virginia had no son more faithful! + </p> + <p> + Fort Gregg was the last obstacle. At ten o’clock that had fallen, heavy + masses of the enemy were pushing forward. Their bristling battalions, and + long lines of artillery had advanced nearly to General Lee’s + head-quarters, a mile west of Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + As the great blue wave surged forward, General Lee, in full-dress uniform, + and wearing his gold-hilted sword, looked at them through his field + glasses from the lawn, in front of his head-quarters, on foot, and + surrounded by his staff. I have never seen him more composed. Chancing to + address him, he saluted me with the calmest and most scrupulous courtesy; + and his voice was as measured and unmoved as though he were attending a + parade. Do you laugh at us, friends of the North, for our devotion to Lee? + You should have seen him that day, when ruin stared him in the face; you + would have known then, the texture of that stout Virginia heart. + </p> + <p> + The enemy’s column literally rushed on. Our artillery, on a hill near by, + had opened a rapid fire on the head of the column; the enemy’s object was + to gain shelter under a crest, in their front. + </p> + <p> + They soon gained it; formed line of battle, and charged the guns. + </p> + <p> + Then all was over. The bullets rained, in a hurtling tempest on the + cannoneer; the blue line came on with loud shouts; and the pieces were + brought off at a gallop, followed by a hailstorm of musket-balls. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the Federal artillery opened from a hill behind their line. + General Lee had mounted his iron-gray, and was slowly retiring toward + Petersburg, surrounded by his officers. His appearance was superb at this + moment—and I still see the erect form of the proud old cavalier; his + hand curbing his restive horse; his head turned over his shoulder; his + face calm, collected, and full of that courage which nothing could break. + </p> + <p> + All at once a shell screamed from the Federal battery, and bursting close + to the general, tore up the ground in a dozen places. The horse of an + officer at his side was mortally wounded by a fragment, and fell beneath + his rider other animals darted onward, with hanging bridle-reins, cut by + the shell—but I was looking at General Lee, feeling certain that he + must have been wounded. + </p> + <p> + He had escaped, however. Not a muscle of his calm face had moved. Only, as + he turned his face over his shoulder in the direction of the battery, I + could see a sudden color rush to his cheeks, and his eye flashed. + </p> + <p> + “I should now like to go into a charge!” he said to Stuart, once, after a + disaster. And I thought I read the same thought in his face at this + moment. + </p> + <p> + But it was impossible. He had no troops. The entire line on the right of + Petersburg had been broken to pieces, and General Lee retired slowly to + his inner works, near the city where a little skirmish line, full of fight + yet, and shaking their fists at the huge enemy approaching, received him + with cheers and cries which made the pulse throb. + </p> + <p> + There was no <i>hack</i> in that remnant—pardon the word, reader; it + expresses the idea. + </p> + <p> + “Let ‘em come on! We’ll give ‘em ——!” shouted the ragged + handful. I dare not change that rough sentence. It belongs to history. And + it was glorious, if rude. In front of that squad was a whole army-corps. + The corps was advancing, supported by a tremendous artillery fire, to + crush them—and the tatterdemalions defied and laughed at them. + </p> + <p> + This all took place before noon. Longstreet had come in from the north of + the James with his skeleton regiments; and these opposed a bold front to + the enemy on the right, while Gordon commanding the left, below the city, + was thundering. A cordon hemmed in the little army now, in the suburbs of + Petersburg. The right, on the Boydton road, was carried away; and the left + beyond James River. One hope alone remained—to hold Petersburg until + night, and then retreat. + </p> + <p> + I will not describe that day. This volume approaches its end; and it is + fortunate. To describe at length those last days would be a terrible task + to the writer. + </p> + <p> + Lee telegraphed to the President that he was going to retreat that night; + and at the moment when the officers of the government hastily left + Richmond by the Danville railroad, the army at Petersburg began to retire. + </p> + <p> + Did you witness what I describe, reader? What a spectacle!—the army + of Northern Virginia, or what was left of it, rather, stealing away amid + darkness. I sat my horse on the Hickory road, north of the Appomattox, + near the city, and looked at the ragged column, which defiled by from the + bridge over the river. In the starlight I could see their faces. There was + not a particle of depression in them. You would have said, indeed, that + they rejoiced at being out of the trenches—to be once more on the + march, with Lee, riding his old iron-gray, in front of his old soldiers—with + the battle-flags of a hundred battles still floating defiantly. + </p> + <p> + General Lee stood at the forks of the road, directing his column. He had + said little during the day, and said little now, but his voice was as calm + and measured, his eye as serene as before. + </p> + <p> + “This is a bad business, colonel!”{1} I had heard him say, at the moment + when the shell burst near him in the morning. + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + I heard but one other allusion which he made to the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Well, colonel,” he said to an officer, in his deep and sonorous voice, + “it has happened as I told them it would, at Richmond. The line has been + stretched until it has broken."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + So, over the Hickory road, leading up the northern bank of the Appomattox, + in the direction of Lynchburg—amid the explosion of magazines, + surging upward like volcanoes, the old army of Northern Virginia, reduced + to fifteen thousand men, went forth, still defiant, into the night. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0156" id="link2H_4_0156"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII. — WHAT I SAW FROM THE GRAVE OF STUART. + </h2> + <p> + Three hours afterward I was in Richmond. + </p> + <p> + Sent with a message for General Ewell, I had taken the last train which + left for the capital, and reached the city toward midnight. + </p> + <p> + The first person whom I saw was Tom Herbert, who ran to meet me. His face + was pale, but his resolute smile still lit up the brave face. + </p> + <p> + “Come and wait on me, my dear old friend,” he said; “I am to be married + to-night!” + </p> + <p> + And in a few words he informed me that Katy had consented to have the + ceremony performed before Tom followed General Lee southward. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour afterward I witnessed a singular spectacle: that of a + wedding, past midnight, in the midst of hurry, confusion, uproar, + universal despair—the scene, a city about to fall into the hands of + the enemy—from which the government and all its defenders had + fled.{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Real.} + </p> + <p> + Katy acted her part bravely. The rosy cheeks were unblanched still—the + sweet smile was as endearing. When I took an old friend’s privilege to + kiss the smiling lips, there was no tremor in them, and her blue eyes were + as brave as ever. + </p> + <p> + So Tom and Katy were married—and I bestowed upon them my paternal + blessing! It was a singular incident—was it not, reader? But war is + full of such. + </p> + <p> + I did not see Tom again until I met him on the retreat. And Katy—I + have never seen her sweet face since—but heaven bless her! + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward I had delivered my message to General Ewell, who was + already moving out with his small force to join Lee. They defiled across + the bridges, and disappeared. For myself, tired out, I wrapped my cape + around me, and stretching myself upon a sofa, at the house of a friend, + snatched a little rest. + </p> + <p> + I was aroused toward daybreak by a tremendous explosion, and going to the + window, saw that the city was in flames. The explosion had been caused, + doubtless, by blowing up the magazines, or the rams in James River. The + warehouses and bridges had been fired in anticipation of the approach of + the enemy. + </p> + <p> + It behooved me to depart now, unless I wished to be captured. I had taken + the precaution to provide myself with a horse from one of the government + stables; the animal stood ready saddled behind the house; I bade my + alarmed friends farewell, and mounting, rode through the streets of the + devoted city toward the Capitol, amid bursting shell from the arsenal, + exploding magazines, and roaring flames. + </p> + <p> + I can not describe the scenes which followed. They were terrible and would + present a fit subject for the brush of Rembrandt. Fancy crowds of + desperate characters breaking into the shops and magazines of stores—negroes, + outcasts, malefactors, swarming in the streets, and shouting amid the + carnival. The state prison had disgorged its convicts—the slums and + subterranean recesses of the city its birds of the night—and now, + felons and malefactors, robbers, cut-purses and murderers held their + riotous and drunken carnival in the streets, flowing with whiskey. Over + all surged the flames, roaring, crackling, tumultuous—the black + clouds of smoke drifting far away, under the blue skies of spring. + </p> + <p> + Then from the Capitol hill, where I had taken my stand, I saw by the early + light, a spectacle even more terrible—that of the enemy entering the + city. They came on from Charles City in a long blue column resembling a + serpent. Infantry and troopers, artillery and stragglers—all rushed + toward the doomed city where they were met by a huge crowd of dirty and + jabbering negroes and outcasts. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a shout near at hand, thundered up to the hill. In front of the + Exchange a column of negro cavalry, with drawn sabres rushed on. As they + came, they yelled and jabbered—that was the darkest spectacle of + all. + </p> + <p> + I remained looking at the frightful pageant with rage in my heart, until + the advance force of the enemy had reached the railing of the Capitol. + Then I turned my horse, and, pursued by carbine shots, rode out of the + western gate, up Grace Street. + </p> + <p> + Fifty paces from St. Paul’s I saw Colonel Desperade pass along—smiling, + serene, in black coat, snow-white shirt, tall black hat, and with two + ladies leaning upon his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! gallant to the last, I see!” I growled to him as I rode by. “‘None + but the brave desert the fair!’” + </p> + <p> + The colonel smiled, but made no reply. + </p> + <p> + A hundred yards farther I met little Mr. Blocque joyously approaching. + </p> + <p> + In his hand he carried his safeguard, brought him by the gray woman. At + his breast fluttered a miniature United States flag. The little gentleman + was radiant, and exclaimed as he saw me:— + </p> + <p> + “What! my dear colonel! you are going to leave us? Come and dine with me—at + five o’clock, precisely!” + </p> + <p> + My reply was not polite. I drew my pistol—at which movement Mr. + Blocque disappeared, running, at the corner of St. Paul’s. + </p> + <p> + On his heels followed a portly and despairing gentleman—Mr. Croaker. + </p> + <p> + “Save my warehouse! it is on fire! I shall be a beggar!” yelled Mr. + Croaker. + </p> + <p> + I laughed aloud as the wretched creature rushed by, puffing and panting. + Ten minutes afterward I was out of the city. + </p> + <p> + My last view of Richmond was from Hollywood Hill, near the grave of + Stuart. The spectacle before me was at once terrible and splendid. The + city was wrapped in a sea of flame. A vast black cloud swept away to the + far horizon. A menacing roar came up from beneath those flames surging + around the white Capitol;—the enemy’s guns, troopers, musketeers and + the rabble, were rushing with shouts, yells, and curses into the devoted + city, which had at last fallen a prey to the Federal arms. + </p> + <p> + A last pang was to tear my heart. The sight before me was not enough, I + had turned my horse to ride westward, throwing a parting glance upon the + city, when suddenly the Virginia flag descended from the summit of the + Capitol and the United States flag was run up. + </p> + <p> + I turned and shook my clenched hand at it. + </p> + <p> + “That is not my flag, and shall never be!” I exclaimed, aloud. + </p> + <p> + And taking off my hat as I passed the grave of Stuart, I rode on, thinking + of the past and the present. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0157" id="link2H_4_0157"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV. — THE RETREAT. + </h2> + <p> + Crossing James River, above the city, I pushed after the army, which I + rejoined on the evening of the 4th, as it was crossing the Appomattox + opposite Amelia Court-House. + </p> + <p> + It reached that village on Wednesday April 5th, and you could see at a + glance that its spirit was unbroken. As to General Lee, his resolution up + to that time had astonished all who saw him. Never had he seemed in more + buoyant spirits. + </p> + <p> + “I have got my army safe out of its breastworks,” he said, “and in order + to follow me, my enemy must abandon his lines, and can derive no further + benefit from his railroads, or James River."{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + It was only the faint-hearts who lost hope. Lee was not of those. Mounted + upon his old iron-gray—at the head of his old army, if his little + handful of about fifteen thousand men could be called such—Lee was + still the great cavalier. The enemy had not yet checkmated him: his heart + of hope was untouched. He would cut his way through, and the red flag + should again float on victorious fields! + </p> + <p> + The army responded to the feeling of its chief. The confidence of the men + in Lee was as great as on his days of victory. You would have said that + the events of the last few days were, in the estimation of the troops, + only momentary reverses. The veterans of Hill and Longstreet advanced + steadily, tramping firm, shoulder to shoulder, with glittering gun + barrels, and faces as resolute and hopeful as at Manassas and + Chancellorsville. + </p> + <p> + “Those men are not whipped,” said a keen observer to me, as he looked at + the closed-up column moving. And he was right. The morale of this remnant + of the great army of Northern Virginia was untouched. Those who saw them + then will testify to the truth of my statement. + </p> + <p> + At Amelia Court-House a terrible blow, however, awaited them. General Lee + had ordered rations to be sent thither from North Carolina. They had been + sent, but the trains had gone on and disgorged them in Richmond. When Lee + arrived with his starved army, already staggering and faint, not a pound + of bread or meat was found; there was nothing. + </p> + <p> + Those who saw General Lee at this moment, will remember his expression. + For the first time the shadow of despair passed over that brave forehead. + Some one had, indeed, struck a death-blow at him. His army was without + food. All his plans were reversed. He had intended to reprovision his + force at Amelia, and then push straight on. His plan, I think I can state, + was to attack the detached forces of Grant in his front; cut his way + through there; cross the Nottoway and other streams by means of pontoons, + which had been provided; and, forming a junction with General Johnston, + crush Sherman or retreat into the Gulf States. All this was, however, + reversed by one wretched, microscopic incident. The great machine was to + be arrested by an atom in its path. The rations were not found at Amelia + Court-House; the army must have food, or die; half the force was dispersed + in foraging parties throughout the surrounding country, and the delay gave + Grant time to mass heavily in Lee’s front, at Burksville. + </p> + <p> + Then all was decided. Lee had not doubted his ability to crush a corps, or + even more, before the main force of the enemy came up. He saw as clearly + now, that there was no hope of his cutting his way through Grant’s army. + It was there in his front—the failure of rations had caused all. + With what must have been a terrible weight upon his heart, Lee directed + his march toward Lynchburg, determined to fight to the end; and, as he had + said during the winter, “die sword in hand.” + </p> + <p> + Then commenced the woeful tragedy. What words can paint that retreat? + There is only one other that equals it—Napoleon’s retreat from + Moscow. The army staggered on, fighting, and starving, and dying. Stalwart + men fell by the roadside, or dropped their muskets as they tottered on. + The wagons were drawn by skeleton mules, without food like the soldiers. + If an ear of corn was found, the men seized and munched it fiercely, like + animals. Covered with mud, blackened with powder, with gaunt frames, and + glaring eyes, the old guard of the army of Northern Virginia still stood + to their colors—fighting at every step, despairing, but not + shrinking; and obeying the orders of Lee to the last. + </p> + <p> + You would not doubt that confidence in, and love for, their commander, + reader, if you had witnessed the scene which I did, near Highbridge. The + enemy had suddenly assailed Ewell and Custis Lee, and broken them to + pieces. The blue horsemen and infantry pressing fiercely on all sides, and + hunting their opponents to the death, seemed, at this moment, to have + delivered a blow from which the Confederates could not rise. The attack + had fallen like a thunderbolt. Ewell, Anderson, and Custis Lee were swept + away by mere weight of numbers; the whole army seemed threatened with + instant destruction. + </p> + <p> + Lee suddenly appeared, however, and the scene which followed was + indescribable. He had rushed a brigade across, riding in front on his + iron-gray; and at that instant he resembled some nobleman of the old age + on the track of the wild-boar. With head erect, face unmoved, eyes clear + and penetrating, he had reached the scene of danger; and as the disordered + remnants of Ewell’s force crowded the hill, hot and panting, they had + suddenly seen, rising between them and the enemy, a wall of bayonets, + flanked by cannon. + </p> + <p> + A great painter should have been present then. Night had fallen, and the + horizon was lit up by the glare of burning wagons. Every instant rose, + sudden and menacing, the enemy’s signal rockets. On the summit of the + hill, where the infantry waited, Lee rode among the disordered men of + Ewell, and his presence raised a storm. + </p> + <p> + “It’s General Lee!” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Robert!” + </p> + <p> + “Where’s the man who won’t follow old Uncle Robert!” + </p> + <p> + Such were the shouts, cries, and fierce exclamations. The haggard faces + flushed; the gaunt hands were clenched. On all sides explosions of rage + and defiance were heard. The men called on the gray old cavalier, sitting + his horse as calm as a statue, to take command of them, and lead them + against the enemy. + </p> + <p> + No attack was made on them. An hour afterward the army moved again—the + rear covered by General Fitzhugh Lee with his cavalry, which, at every + step, met the blue huntsmen pressing on to hunt down their prey. + </p> + <p> + Such were some of the scenes of the retreat, up to the 7th. Who has the + heart to narrate what followed in the next two days? A great army dying + slowly—starving, fighting, falling—is a frightful spectacle. I + think the memory of it must affect even the enemies who witnessed it. + </p> + <p> + It is only a small portion of the tragic picture that the present writer + has the heart to paint. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0158" id="link2H_4_0158"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV. — HUNTED DOWN. + </h2> + <p> + On the morning of the 7th of April, and throughout the 8th, the horrors of + the retreat culminated. + </p> + <p> + The army was fighting at every step. Hope had deserted them, but they were + still fighting. + </p> + <p> + On every side pressed the enemy like bands of wolves hunting down the + wounded steed. + </p> + <p> + Gordon and Longstreet, commanding the two skeleton corps of infantry, and + Fitzhugh Lee the two or three thousand cavalry remaining, met the + incessant attacks, with a nerve which had in it something of the heroic. + </p> + <p> + Fitz Lee had commanded the rear guard on the whole retreat. All along the + route he had confronted the columns of Sheridan, and checked them with + heavy loss. + </p> + <p> + At Paynesville he had driven Sheridan back, killing, wounding, and + capturing two hundred of his men. At Highbridge he captured seven hundred + and eighty more, killing many, among the rest the Federal General Read. On + the morning of the 7th, beyond the river, he drove back a large column, + capturing General Irwin Gregg. + </p> + <p> + That was a brave resistance made by the old army of Northern Virginia, + reader, as it was slowly advancing into the gulf of perdition. + </p> + <p> + Beyond Farmville there was no longer any hope. All was plainly over. I + shrink from the picture, but here is that of one of my friends. “It became + necessary to burn hundreds of wagons. At intervals the enemy’s cavalry + dashed in and struck the interminable train, here or there, capturing and + burning dozens on dozens of wagons. Hundreds of men dropped from + exhaustion, and thousands let fall their muskets from inability to carry + them any farther. The scenes were of a nature which can be apprehended in + its vivid reality only by men who are thoroughly familiar with the + harrowing details of war. Behind, and on either flank, a ubiquitous and + increasingly adventurous enemy; every mud-hole and every rise in the road + choked with blazing wagons; the air filled with the deafening reports of + ammunition exploding, and shell bursting when touched by the flames; dense + columns of smoke ascending to heaven from the burning and exploding + vehicles; exhausted men, worn-out mules and horses, lying down side by + side; gaunt famine glaring hopelessly from sunken lack-lustre eyes; dead + mules, dead horses, dead men, everywhere; death many times welcomed as + God’s blessing in disguise—who can wonder if many hearts tried in + the fiery furnace of four unparalleled years, and never hitherto found + wanting, should have quailed in presence of starvation, fatigue, + sleeplessness, misery, un-intermitted for five or six days, and + culminating in hopelessness?"{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: The Hon. Charles Francis Lawley, in the London <i>Times</i>.} + </p> + <p> + They did not “quail,” they fell. It was not fear that made them drop the + musket, their only hope of safety; it was weakness. It was an army of + phantoms that staggered on toward Lynchburg—and what had made them + phantoms was hunger. + </p> + <p> + Let others describe those last two days in full. For myself I can not. To + sum up all in one sentence. The Army of Northern Virginia, which had for + four years snatched victory upon some of the bloodiest battle-fields of + history, fought, reeled, fired its last rounds, and fell dead from + starvation, defying fiercely with its last breath, gurgling through blood + in its throat, the enemy who was hunting it down to its death. + </p> + <p> + Call it what you will, reader—there was something in those men that + made them fight to the last. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0159" id="link2H_4_0159"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI. — THE LAST COUNCIL OF WAR OF THE ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA. + </h2> + <p> + On the night of the 8th of April, within a few miles of Appomattox + Court-House, took place the last council of war of the army of Northern + Virginia. + </p> + <p> + It was in the open air, beside a camp-fire, near which were spread General + Lee’s blankets; for throughout the retreat he had used no tent, sleeping, + shelterless like his men, by the bivouac fire. + </p> + <p> + To this last council of war, none but the corps commanders were invited. + Thus the only persons present were Gordon and Longstreet, commanding the + skeleton corps of infantry, and Fitzhugh Lee, the cavalry of the army. + </p> + <p> + Gordon was stretched near Fitzhugh Lee, upon the blankets of the + commander-in-chief; Gordon, with his clear complexion, his penetrating + eyes, his firm lip, his dark hair, and uniform coat buttoned to his chin—the + man to fight and die rather than surrender. Near him lay Fitz Lee, the + ardent and laughing cavalier, with the flowing beard, the sparkling eyes, + the top-boots, and cavalry sabre—the man to stand by Gordon. On a + log, a few feet distant, sat the burly Longstreet, smoking with perfect + nonchalance—his heavily bearded face exhibiting no emotion whatever. + Erect, within a few paces of these three men, stood General Lee—grave, + commanding, unmoved; the fire-light revealing every outline of his + vigorous person, clad in its plain gray uniform, the gray beard and + mustache, the serene eyes, and that stately poise of the head upon the + shoulders, which seemed to mark this human being for command. + </p> + <p> + All these persons were composed. Their faces were haggard from want of + rest, but there was nothing in their expressions indicating anxiety, + though some gloom. + </p> + <p> + “It was a picture for an artist,” said that one of them who described the + scene to me afterward. The ruddy light brought out every detail of these + martial figures. By that fire on the roadside had assembled for the last + time General Robert E. Lee and his corps commanders. + </p> + <p> + The council was brief. + </p> + <p> + General Lee succinctly laid before his listeners the whole situation. + </p> + <p> + His army was on a strip of land between the James River and the enemy. He + could not cross the river—if he could not break through the enemy in + his front the army was lost. General Grant had understood his situation, + and a correspondence had taken place. He would read General Grant’s notes + and copies of his own replies. + </p> + <p> + By the light of the fire, General Lee then proceeded to read the papers + alluded too. + </p> + <p> + Grant had opened the correspondence. “The result of the last week must + convince General Lee,” he wrote, “of the hopelessness of further + resistance on the part of the army of Northern Virginia.” He therefore + “asked the surrender” of that army to prevent bloodshed. + </p> + <p> + Lee had written in reply, requesting Grant to state the terms. + </p> + <p> + Grant had stated them on this 8th of April, and Lee had replied at once + that he “did not intend to propose the surrender of the army of Northern + Virginia, but to ask the terms of General Grant’s proposition. To be + frank,” he had added, “I do not think the emergency has arisen to call for + the surrender.” But he would meet General Grant on the next morning to + discuss the whole affair. + </p> + <p> + There the correspondence had terminated. What was the opinion of his corps + commanders? + </p> + <p> + Their replies were brief and informal. The scene was august but simple. + What was determined upon was this—- + </p> + <p> + That the army should continue its march on the next day toward Lynchburg, + breaking through Sheridan’s cavalry which was known to be in front; but in + case the Federal infantry, a very different thing from the cavalry, was + found to be “up,” then Gordon, who was to lead the advance, should inform + the commander-in-chief of that fact, when a flag of truce would be sent to + General Grant acceding to the terms of capitulation proposed in his last + note to General Lee. + </p> + <p> + Fitzhugh Lee only stipulated that if he saw that the Federal infantry in + his front, rendered surrender inevitable, he should be allowed to go off + with his cavalry to save the horses of his men. + </p> + <p> + This was agreed to, and it will be seen that Fitz Lee availed himself of + the conmmander-in-chief’s permission. + </p> + <p> + So ended that last council of war, by the camp fire. + </p> + <p> + With grave salutes and a cordial pressure of the brave hands, the famous + soldiers took leave of Lee. + </p> + <p> + As they disappeared he drew his blanket around him and fell asleep by the + blazing fire. + </p> + <p> + It was the night of April 8th, 1865—three years, day for day, from + the moment when these lines are written. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0160" id="link2H_4_0160"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII. — THE NIGHT BEFORE THE SURRENDER. + </h2> + <p> + Throughout that strange night of the eighth of April, 1865, I was in the + saddle, carrying orders. + </p> + <p> + Those who saw it will remember how singularly brilliant it was. The moon + and stars shone. The light clouds sweeping across the sky scarcely + obscured the mournful radiance. All was still. The two armies—one + surrounded and at bay, the other ready to finish the work before it—rested + silently on their arms, waiting for that day which would bring the + thunder. + </p> + <p> + Every arrangement had been made by Lee to break through the force in his + front, and gain Lynchburg, from which he could retreat to the southwest. + </p> + <p> + The column of infantry to open the way was about one thousand six hundred + men, under Gordon. The cavalry, numbering two or three thousand, was + commanded by Fitzhugh Lee. The artillery, consisting of three or four + battalions, was placed under that brave spirit, Colonel Thomas H. Carter. + </p> + <p> + For the tough work, Lee had selected three braves. + </p> + <p> + I saw them all that night, and read in their eyes the fire of an + unalterable resolution. + </p> + <p> + You know those men, reader. If <i>you</i> do not, history knows them. It + was their immense good fortune to bear the red cross banner in the last + charge on the enemy, and with their handful of followers to drive the + Federal forces back nearly a mile, half an hour before Lee’s surrender. + </p> + <p> + I had just left General Fitzhugh Lee, near Appomattox Court-House, and was + riding through the pines, when a sonorous voice halted me. + </p> + <p> + “Who goes there?” said the voice. + </p> + <p> + “Surry, Mordaunt!” + </p> + <p> + For I had recognized the voice of the general of cavalry. We have seen + little of him, reader, in this rapid narrative; but in all the long hard + battles from the Rapidan to this night, I had everywhere found myself + thrown in collision with the great soldier—that tried and trusty + friend of my heart. The army had saluted him on a hundred fields. His name + had become the synonym of unfaltering courage. He was here, on the verge + of surrender now, looking as calm and resolute as on his days of victory. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old friend,” said Mordaunt, grasping my hand and then leaning upon + my shoulder; “as the scriptures say, what of the night?” + </p> + <p> + “Bad, Mordaunt.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand. You think the enemy’s infantry is up.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we’ll have hard work; but we are used to that, Surry.” + </p> + <p> + “The work is nothing. It is death only. But something worse than death is + coming Mordaunt.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Surrender.” + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to surrender,” he said. “I have sworn to one I love more + than my life—you know whom I mean, Surry—that I would come + back, or die, sword in hand; and I will keep my oath.” + </p> + <p> + The proud face glowed. In the serene but fiery eyes I could read the + expression of an unchangeable resolution. + </p> + <p> + “Another friend of ours has sworn that too,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + “And just married! His poor, young wife, like yours, is far from him.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken; she is near him. She went ahead of the army, and is now + at the village here.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible? And where is Mohun?” + </p> + <p> + “He is holding the advance skirmish line, on the right of Gordon. Look! Do + you see that fire, yonder, glimmering through the woods? I left him there + half an hour since.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go and see him. Do nothing rash, to-morrow, Mordaunt. Remember + that poor Old Virginia, if no one else, needs you yet!” + </p> + <p> + “Be tranquil, Surry,” he replied, with a cool smile. “Farewell; we shall + meet at Philippi!” + </p> + <p> + And we parted with a pressure of the hand. + </p> + <p> + I rode toward the fire. Stretched on his cape, beside it, I saw the figure + of Mohun. He was reading in a small volume, and did not raise his head + until I was within three paces of him. + </p> + <p> + “What are you reading, Mohun?” + </p> + <p> + He rose and grasped my hand. + </p> + <p> + “The only book for a soldier,” he said, with his frank glance and brave + smile—“the book of books, my dear Surry—that which tells us to + do our duty, and trust to Providence.” + </p> + <p> + I glanced at the volume, and recognized it. I had seen it in the hands of + Georgia Conway, at Five Forks. On the fly leaf, which was open, her name + was written. + </p> + <p> + “That is <i>her</i> Bible,” I said, “and doubtless you have just parted + with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see you know that she is here, not far from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Mordaunt told me. It must be a great delight to you, Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled, and sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, “but a sort of sorrow, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Why a sorrow?” + </p> + <p> + Mohun was silent. Then he said:—- + </p> + <p> + “I think I shall fall to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Absurd!” I said, trying to laugh, “Why should you fancy such a thing?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to surrender, Surry. I swore to Chambliss, my old comrade, + that I would never surrender, and he swore that to me. He was killed in + Charles City—he kept his word; I will not break mine, friend.” + </p> + <p> + My head sank. I had taken my seat on Mohun’s cape, and gazed in silence at + the fire. + </p> + <p> + “That is a terrible resolution, Mohun,” I said at length. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, with entire calmness, “especially in me. It is hard to + die, even when we are old and sorrowful—when life is a burden. Men + cling to this miserable existence even when old age and grief have taken + away, one by one, all the pleasures of life. Think, then, what it must be + to die in the flush of youth, and health, and happiness! I am young, + strong, happy beyond words. The person I love best in all the world, has + just given me her hand. I have before me a long life of joy, if I only + live! But I have sworn that oath, Surry! Chambliss kept his; shall I break + mine? Let us not talk further of this, friend.” + </p> + <p> + And Mohun changed the conversation, refusing to listen to my + remonstrances. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour afterward I left him, with a strange sinking of the heart. + </p> + <p> + Taking my way back to the Court-House, I passed through the little + village, rode on for a mile, and then, overwhelmed by fatigue, lay down by + a camp fire in the woods, and fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + I was waked by a single gun, sending its dull roar through the gray dawn. + </p> + <p> + Rising, I buttoned my cape around me, mounted my horse, and rode toward + the front. + </p> + <p> + As I ascended the hill, upon which stands Appomattox Court-House, a + crimson blush suddenly spread itself over the fields and woods. + </p> + <p> + I looked over my shoulder. In the east, on the summit of the forest, the + newly risen sun was poised, like a great shield bathed in blood. + </p> + <p> + Such was the spectacle which ushered in the ninth of April, 1865, at + Appomattox Court-House. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0161" id="link2H_4_0161"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVIII. — THE LAST CHARGE OF THE OLD GUARD. + </h2> + <p> + I rode on rapidly to the front. + </p> + <p> + It was the morning of the ninth of April, 1865. Since that time three + years, day for day, nearly hour for hour have passed; for these lines are + written on the morning of the ninth of April, 1868. + </p> + <p> + Gordon had formed his line of battle across the road just beyond the + court-house—and supported by Fitzhugh Lee’s cavalry, and Carter’s + artillery on his right, was advancing with measured steps to break through + the enemy. + </p> + <p> + It was a spectacle to make the pulse throb. The little handful was going + to death unmoved. The red light of morning darted from the burnished + gun-barrels of the infantry, the sabres of the cavalry, and the grim + cannon following, in sombre lightnings. + </p> + <p> + Gordon, the “Bayard of the army,” was riding in front of his line. The + hour and the men had both come. Steadily the old guard of the army of + Northern Virginia advanced to its last field of battle. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: THE LAST CHARGE} + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, in front of them, the woods swarmed with the enemy’s infantry, + cavalry, and artillery. The great multitude had evidently employed the + hours of night well. Grant’s entire army seemed to have massed itself in + Gordon’s front. + </p> + <p> + But the force was not the question. Gordon’s one thousand six hundred men + were in motion. And when Gordon moved forward he always fought, if he + found an enemy. + </p> + <p> + In five minutes the opponents had closed in, in stubborn fight, and the + woods roared with musketry, cannon, and carbines. + </p> + <p> + Then a resounding cheer rose. The enemy had recoiled before Gordon, and he + pressed forward, sweeping every thing in his path for nearly a mile beyond + the court-house. + </p> + <p> + On his right Fitzhugh Lee’s horsemen thundered forward on the retiring + enemy; and Carter’s guns advanced at a gallop, taking positions—Starke + to the left and Poague to the right of the road—from which they + opened a rapid fire upon the Federal line of battle. + </p> + <p> + I had accompanied the advance and looked on with positive wonder. A + miracle seemed about to be enacted before my very eyes. Gordon’s poor + little skirmish-line of less than two thousand men, with the half-equipped + horsemen of Fitzhugh Lee, on their broken-down animals, seemed about to + drive back the whole Federal army, and cut their way through in safety. + </p> + <p> + Alas! the hope was vain. In front of the handful were eighty thousand men! + It was not Sheridan’s cavalry only—that would have speedily been + disposed of. During the night, General Grant’s best infantry had pressed + forward, and arrived in time to place itself across Lee’s path. What + Gordon and Fitzhugh Lee encountered was the Federal army. + </p> + <p> + Right and left, as in front, were seen dense blue columns of infantry, + heavy masses of cavalry, crowding batteries, from which issued at every + instant that quick glare which precedes the shell. + </p> + <p> + From this multitude a great shout arose; and was taken up by the Federal + troops for miles. From the extreme rear, where Longstreet stood stubbornly + confronting the pursuers, as from the front, where Gordon was trying to + break through the immense obstacles in his path, came that thunder of + cheers, indicating clearly that the enemy at last felt that their prey was + in their clutch. + </p> + <p> + The recoil was brief. The great Federal wave which had rolled backward + before Gordon, now rolled forward to engulf him. The moment seemed to have + come for the old guard of the army of Northern Virginia to crown its + victories with a glorious death. + </p> + <p> + The Federal line rushed on. From end to end of the great field, broken by + woods, the blue infantry delivered their fire, as they advanced with wild + cheers upon the line of Gordon and Lee. + </p> + <p> + The guns of Carter thundered in vain. Never were cannon fought more + superbly; the enemy were now nearly at the muzzle of the pieces. + </p> + <p> + Gordon was everywhere encouraging his men, and attempting to hold them + steady. With flaming eyes, his drawn sword waving amid the smoke, his + strident voice rising above the din of battle, Gordon was superb. + </p> + <p> + But all was of no avail. The Federal line came on like a wave of steel and + fire. A long deafening crash, mingled with the thunder of cannon, stunned + the ear; above the combatants rose a huge smoke-cloud, from which issued + cheers and groans. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly an officer of General Lee’s staff passed by like lightning; was + lost in the smoke; then I saw him speaking to Gordon. At the few words + uttered by the officer, the latter turned pale. + </p> + <p> + A moment afterward a white flag fluttered—the order to surrender had + come. + </p> + <p> + What I felt at that instant I can not describe. Something seemed to choke + me. I groaned aloud, and turned toward the cavalry. + </p> + <p> + At fifty paces from me I saw Mordaunt, surrounded by his officers and men. + </p> + <p> + His swarthy face glowed—his eyes blazed. Near him, General Fitzhugh + Lee—with Tom Herbert, and some other members of his staff—was + sitting his horse, pale and silent. + </p> + <p> + “What will you do, general?” said Mordaunt, saluting with drawn sabre. + </p> + <p> + Fitzhugh Lee uttered a groan. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t wish to be included in the surrender,” he said. “Come, let’s go. + General Lee no longer requires my poor services!”{1} + </p> + <p> + {Footnote 1: His words.} + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt saluted again, as General Lee and his staff officers turned away. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll go out sword in hand!” Mordaunt said. “Let who will, follow me!” + </p> + <p> + A wild cheer greeted the words. The men formed column and charged. + </p> + <p> + As they moved, a second cheer was heard at fifty paces from us. I turned + my head, and saw Mohun, in front of about fifty cavalrymen, among whom I + recognized Nighthawk. + </p> + <p> + In an instant I was at Mohun’s side. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to charge!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “And die, Surry! A gentleman gives his word but once!” + </p> + <p> + And, following Mordaunt with long leaps, Mohun and his horsemen burst upon + the enemy. + </p> + <p> + Then was presented a spectacle which made the two armies hold their + breath. + </p> + <p> + The column of cavalry under Mordaunt and Mohun, had struck the Federal + line of battle. + </p> + <p> + For an instant, you could see little, hear little, in the smoke and + uproar. A furious volley unhorsed at least half of the charging column, + and the rest were seen striking with their sabres at the blue infantry, + who stabbed with their bayonets at the rearing horses. + </p> + <p> + Then a thundering shout rose. The smoke was swept away by the wind, and + made all clear. + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt had cut his way through, and was seen to disappear with a dozen + followers. + </p> + <p> + Mohun, shot through the breast, and streaming with blood, had fallen from + the saddle, his foot had caught in the stirrup, and he was dragged by his + frightened animal toward the Confederate lines. + </p> + <p> + The horse came on at a headlong gallop, but suddenly a cavalier came up + with him, seized the bridle, and threw him violently on his haunches. + </p> + <p> + The new-comer was Nighthawk. + </p> + <p> + Leaping to the ground, he seized the body of Mohun in his arms, extricated + his foot from the stirrup, and remounted his own horse, with the form of + his master still clasped to his breast. + </p> + <p> + Then, plunging the spurs into his animal, he turned to fly. But his last + hour had come. + </p> + <p> + A bullet, fired at fifty paces, penetrated his back, and the blood + spouted. He fell from the flying animal to the earth, but his arms still + clasped the body of Mohun, whose head lay upon his breast. + </p> + <p> + A loud cheer rose, and the blue line rushed straight upon him. Nighthawk’s + head rose, and he gazed at them with flashing eyes—then he looked at + Mohun and groaned. + </p> + <p> + Summoning his last remains of strength, he drew from his breast a pencil + and a piece of paper, wrote some words upon the paper, and affixed it to + Mohun’s breast. + </p> + <p> + This seemed to exhaust him. He had scarcely finished, when his head sank, + his shoulders drooped, and falling forward on the breast of Mohun, he + expired. + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward, all was still. On the summit of the Court-House hill a + blue column was stationary, waving a large white flag. + </p> + <p> + General Lee had surrendered. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0162" id="link2H_4_0162"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIX. — THE SURRENDER. + </h2> + <p> + Lee had surrendered the army of Northern Virginia. + </p> + <p> + Ask old soldiers of that army to describe their feelings at the + announcement, reader. They will tell you that they can not; and I will not + attempt to record my own. + </p> + <p> + It was, truly, the bitterness of death that we tasted at ten o’clock on + the morning of that ninth of April, 1865, at Appomattox Court-House. + Gray-haired soldiers cried like children. It was hard to say whether they + would have preferred, at that moment, to return to their families or to + throw themselves upon the bayonets of the enemy, and die. + </p> + <p> + In that hour of their agony they were not insulted, however. The + deportment of the enemy was chivalric and courteous. No bands played; no + cheers were heard; and General Grant was the first to salute profoundly + his gray-haired adversary, who came, with a single officer, to arrange, in + a house near the field, the terms of surrender. + </p> + <p> + They are known. On the tenth they were carried out. + </p> + <p> + The men stacked the old muskets, which they had carried in a hundred + fights, surrendered the bullet-torn colors, which had waved over + victorious fields, and silently returned, like mourners, to their desolate + homes. + </p> + <p> + Two days after the surrender, Mohun was still alive. + </p> + <p> + Three months afterward, the welcome intelligence reached me that he was + rapidly recovering. + </p> + <p> + He had made a narrow escape. Ten minutes after the death of the faithful + Nighthawk, the Federal line had swept over him; and such was the agony of + his wound, that he exclaimed to one of the enemy:— + </p> + <p> + “Take your pistol, and shoot me!” + </p> + <p> + The man cocked his weapon, and aimed at his heart. Then he turned the + muzzle aside, and uncocking the pistol, replaced it in its holster. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “Johnny Reb, you might get well!” + </p> + <p> + {Footnote: These details are all real.} + </p> + <p> + And glancing at the paper on Mohun’s breast, he passed on, muttering— + </p> + <p> + “It’s a general!” + </p> + <p> + The paper saved Mohun’s life. An acquaintance in the Federal army saw it, + and speedily had him cared for. An hour afterward his friends were + informed of his whereabouts. I hastened to the house to which he had been + borne. Bending over him, the beautiful Georgia was sobbing hopelessly, and + dropping tears upon the paper, which contained the words— + </p> + <p> + <i>“This is the body of General Mohun, C.S.A.”</i> + </p> + <p> + The army had surrendered; the flag was lowered: with a singular feeling of + bewilderment, and a “lost” feeling that is indescribable, I set out, + followed by my servant, for Eagle’s Nest. + </p> + <p> + I was the possessor of a paper, which I still keep as a strange memorial. + </p> + <p> + “The bearer,” ran this paper, “a paroled prisoner of the army of Northern + Virginia, has permission to go to his home, and there remain undisturbed—with + two horses!” + </p> + <p> + At the top of this document, was, “Appomattox Court-House, Va., April, 10, + 1865.” On the left-hand side was, “Paroled Prisoner’s Pass.” + </p> + <p> + So, with his pass, the paroled prisoner passed slowly across Virginia to + his home. + </p> + <p> + Oh! that Virginia of 1865—that desolate, dreary land! Oh! those + poor, sad soldiers returning to their homes! Everywhere burned houses, + unfenced fields, ruined homesteads! On all sides, the desolation of the + torch and the sword! The “poor paroled prisoners,” going home wearily in + that dark April, felt a pang which only a very bitter foe will laugh at. + </p> + <p> + But all was not taken. Honor was left us—and the angels of home! As + the sorrowful survivors of the great army came back, as they reached their + old homes, dragging their weary feet after them, or urging on their jaded + horses, suddenly the sunshine burst forth for them, and lit up their rags + with a sort of glory. The wife, the mother, and the little child rushed to + them. Hearts beat fast, as the gray uniforms were clasped in a long + embrace. Those angels of home loved the poor prisoners better in their + dark days than in their bright. The fond eyes melted to tears, the white + arms held them close; and the old soldiers, who had only laughed at the + roar of the enemy’s guns, dropped tears on the faces of their wives and + little children! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPILOGUE. + </h2> + <p> + In the autumn of last year, 1867, I set out on horseback from “Eagle’s + Nest,” and following the route west by Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, + Germanna Ford, Culpeper, and Orleans, reached “The Oaks” in Fauquier. + </p> + <p> + I needed the sunshine and bright faces of the old homestead, after that + journey; for at every step had sprung up some gloomy or exciting + recollection. + </p> + <p> + It was a veritable journey through the world of memory. + </p> + <p> + Fredericksburg! Chancellorsville! the Wilderness! the plains of Culpeper!—as + I rode on amid these historic scenes, a thousand memories came to knock at + the door of my heart. Some were gay, if many were sorrowful—laughter + mingled with the sighs. But to return to the past is nearly always sad. As + I rode through the waste land now, it was with drooping head. All the old + days came back again, the cannon sent their long dull thunder through the + forests; again the gray and blue lines closed in, and hurled together; + again Jackson in his old dingy coat, Stuart with his floating plume, + Pelham, Farley, all whom I had known, loved, and still mourned, rose + before me—a line of august phantoms fading away into the night of + the past. + </p> + <p> + Once more I looked upon Pelham, holding in his arms the bleeding form of + Jean—passing “Camp-no-camp,” only a desolate and dreary field now, + all the laughing faces and brave forms of Stuart and his men returned—in + the Wilderness I saw Jackson fight and fall; saw him borne through the + moonlight; heard his sighs and his last greeting with Stuart. A step + farther, I passed the lonely old house in the Wilderness, and all the + strange and sombre scenes there surged up from the shadows of the past. + Mordaunt, Achmed, Fenwick, Violet Grafton!—all reappeared, playing + over again their fierce tragedy; and to this was added the fiercer drama + of May, 1864, when General Grant invented the “Unseen Death.” + </p> + <p> + Thus the journey which I made through the bare and deserted fields, or the + mournful thickets, was not gay; and these were only a part of the panorama + which passed before me. Looking toward the south, I saw as clearly with + the eyes of the memory, the banks of the Po, the swamps of the + Chickahominy, the trenches at Petersburg, the woods of Dinwiddie, Five + Forks, Highbridge—Appomattox Court-House! Nearer was Yellow Tavern, + where Stuart had fallen. Not a foot of this soil of Old Virginia but + seemed to have been the scene of some fierce battle, some sombre tragedy! + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” I sighed, as I rode on toward the Oaks, “all that is buried + in the past, and it is useless to think of it. I am only a poor paroled + prisoner, wearing arms no more—let me forget the red cross flag + which used to float so proudly here, and bow my head to the will of the + Supreme Ruler of all worlds.” + </p> + <p> + So I went on, and in due time reached the Oaks, in Fauquier. + </p> + <p> + You recall the good old homestead, do you not, my dear reader? I should be + sorry to have you forget the spot where I have been so happy. It was to + this honest old mansion that I was conducted in April, 1861, when struck + from my horse by a falling limb in the storm-lashed wood, I saw come to my + succor the dearest person in the world. She awaited me now—having a + month before left Eagle’s Nest, to pay a visit to her family—and + again, as in the spring of ‘63, she came to meet me as I ascended the hill—only + we met now as bridegroom and bride! + </p> + <p> + This May of my life had brought back the sunshine, even after that black + day of 1865. Two white arms had met the poor paroled prisoner, on his + return to Eagle’s Nest—a pair of violet eyes had filled with happy + tears—and the red lips, smiling with exquisite emotion, murmured + “All is well, since you have come back to me!” + </p> + <p> + It was this beautiful head which the sunshine of that autumn of 1867 + revealed to me, on the lawn of the good old chateau of the mountains! And + behind, came all my good friends of the Oaks—the kind lady of the + manor, the old colonel, and Charley and Annie, who were there too! With + his long gray hair, and eyes that still flashed, Colonel Beverly came to + meet me—brave and smiling in 1867 as he had been in 1861. Then, with + Annie’s arm around me—that little sister had grown astonishingly!—I + went in and was at home. + </p> + <p> + At home! You must be a soldier to know what that simple word means, + reader! You must sleep under a tree, carry your effects behind your + saddle, lie down in bivouac in strange countries, and feel the longing of + the heart for the dear faces, the old scenes. + </p> + <p> + “Tell my mother that I die in a foreign land!” murmured my poor dear + Tazewell Patton, at Gettysburg. I have often thought of those words; and + they express much I think. Oh! for home! for a glimpse, if no more, of the + fond faces, as life goes! You may be the bravest of the brave, as my dear + Tazewell was; but ‘tis home where the heart is, and you sigh for the dear + old land! + </p> + <p> + The Oaks was like home to me, for the somebody with violet eyes, and + chestnut hair, was here to greet me. + </p> + <p> + The sun is setting, and we wander in the fields touched by the dreamy + autumn. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” says the somebody who holds my hand, and smiles, “there is the + rock where we stopped in the autumn of 1862, and where you behaved with so + little propriety, you remember, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “I remember the rock but not the absence of propriety. What were a man’s + arms made for but to clasp the woman he loves!” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, sir! People would think we were two foolish young lovers.” + </p> + <p> + “Young lovers are not foolish, madam. They are extremely intelligent.” + </p> + <p> + Madam laughs. + </p> + <p> + “Yonder is the primrose from which I plucked the bud,” she says. + </p> + <p> + “That sent me through Stuart’s head-quarters in April, 1863?” I say. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you have not forgotten it I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Almost; Stay! I think it meant ‘Come,’—did it not?—And you + sent it to me!” + </p> + <p> + Madam pouts beautifully. + </p> + <p> + “You have ‘almost forgotten’ it! Have you, indeed, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “These trifles will escape us.” + </p> + <p> + May loses all her smiles, and her head sinks. + </p> + <p> + I begin to laugh, taking an old porte-monnaie from my pocket. There is + very little money in it, but a number of worn papers, my parole and + others. I take one and open it. It contains a faded primrose. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” I say, with a smile, “it said ‘Come,’ once, and it brings me back + again to the dearest girl in the world!” + </p> + <p> + A tear falls from the violet eyes upon the faded flower, but through the + tears burst a smile! + </p> + <p> + They are curious, these earthly angels—are they not, my dear reader? + They are romantic and sentimental to the last, and this old soldier + admires them! + </p> + <p> + So, conversing of a thousand things, we return to the Oaks wandering like + boy and girl through the “happy autumn fields.” May Surry flits through + the old doorway and disappears. + </p> + <p> + As she goes the sun sinks behind the forest. But it will rise, as she + will, to-morrow! + </p> + <p> + The smiling Colonel Beverly meets me on the threshold, with a note in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “A servant has just brought this,” he says, “it is from your friend, + Mordaunt.” + </p> + <p> + I opened the note and read the following words:— + </p> + <p> + “<i>My dear Surry</i>:— + </p> + <p> + “I send this note to await your appearance at the Oaks. Come and see me. + Some old friends will give you a cordial greeting, in addition to + </p> + <p> + “Your comrade, + </p> + <p> + “Mordaunt.” + </p> + <p> + I had intended visiting Mordaunt in a day or two after my arrival. On the + very next morning I mounted my horse, and set out for the house in the + mountain, anxious to ascertain who the “old friends” were, to whom he + alluded. + </p> + <p> + In an hour I had come within sight of Mordaunt’s mansion. Passing through + the great gate, I rode on between the two rows of magnificent trees; + approached the low mansion with its extensive wings, overshadowed by the + huge black oaks; dismounted; raised the heavy bronze knocker, carved like + the frowning mask of the old tragedians; and letting it fall sent a peal + of low thunder through the mansion. + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt appeared in a few moments; and behind him came dear Violet + Grafton, as I will still call her, smiling. Mordaunt’s face glowed with + pleasure, and the grasp of his strong hand was like a vice. He was + unchanged, except that he wore a suit of plain gray cloth. His statuesque + head, with the long black beard and mustache, the sparkling eyes, and + cheeks tanned by exposure to the sun and wind, rose as proudly as on that + morning in 1865, when he had charged and cut through the enemy at + Appomattox. + </p> + <p> + Violet was Violet still! The beautiful tranquil face still smiled with its + calm sweetness; the lips had still that expression of infantile innocence. + The blue eyes still looked forth from the shower of golden ringlets which + had struck me when I first met her in the lonely house in the Wilderness, + in the gay month of April, 1861. + </p> + <p> + I had shaken hands with Mordaunt, but I advanced and “saluted” madam, and + the cheek was suddenly filled with exquisite roses. + </p> + <p> + “For old times’ sake, madam!” + </p> + <p> + “Which are the best of all possible times, Surry!” said Mordaunt, + laughing. + </p> + <p> + And he led the way into the great apartment, hung round with portraits, + where we had supped on the night of Pelham’s hard fight at Barbee’s, after + Sharpsburg. + </p> + <p> + “You remember this room, do you not, my dear Surry?” said Mordaunt. “It + escaped during the war; though you see that my poor little grandmother, + the child of sixteen there, with the curls and laces, received a sabre + thrust in the neck. But you are looking round for the friends I promised. + They were here a moment since, and only retired to give you a surprise. + </p> + <p> + “See! here they are!” + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and I saw enter—Mohun and Landon! + </p> + <p> + In an instant I had grasped the hands of these dear friends; and they had + explained their presence. Mohun had come to make a visit to Mordaunt, and + had prolonged his stay in order to meet me. Then Mordaunt had written to + Landon, at “Bizarre,” just over the mountain, to come and complete the + party—he had promptly arrived—and I found myself in presence + of three old comrades, any one of whom it would have been a rare pleasure + to have met. + </p> + <p> + Mohun and Landon were as unchanged as Mordaunt. I saw the same proud and + loyal faces, listened to the same frank brave voices, touched the same + firm hands. They no longer wore uniforms—that was the whole + difference. Under the black coats beat the same hearts which had throbbed + beneath the gray. + </p> + <p> + I spent the whole day with Mordaunt, After dinner he led the way into the + room on the right of the entrance—that singular apartment into which + I had been shown by accident on my first visit to him, and where afterward + I witnessed the test of poor Achmed’s love. The apartment was unchanged. + The floor was still covered with the rich furs of lions, tigers, and + leopards—the agate eyes still glared at me, and the grinning teeth + seemed to utter growls or snarls. On the walls I saw still the large + collection of books in every language—the hunting and battle + pictures which I had before so greatly admired—the strange array of + outlandish arms—and over the mantel-piece still hung the portrait of + Violet Grafton. + </p> + <p> + Seated in front of a cheerful blaze, we smoked and talked—Mordaunt, + Mohun, Landon, and myself—until the shades of evening drew on. + </p> + <p> + Landon told me of his life at “Bizarre,” near the little village of + Millwood, through which we had marched that night to bury his dead at the + old chapel, and where he had surrendered in April, 1865. Arden and Annie + lived near him, and were happy: and if I would come to “Bizarre,” he would + show me the young lady whom I had carried off, that night, from the chapel + graveyard, on the croup of my saddle! + </p> + <p> + Landon laughed. His face was charming; it was easy to see that he was + happy. To understand how that expression contrasted with his former + appearance, the worthy reader must peruse my episodical memoir, <i>Hilt to + Hilt</i>. + </p> + <p> + Mohun’s face was no less smiling. He had lost every trace of gloom. + </p> + <p> + He gave me intelligence of all my old friends. General Davenant and Judge + Conway had become close friends again. Will and Virginia were married. + Charley was cultivating a mustache and speculating upon a new revolution. + Tom Herbert and Katy were on a visit to “Disaways.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Nighthawk is the only one whom I miss, my dear Surry,” said Mohun. + “He died trying to save me, and I have had his body taken to Fonthill, + where it is buried in the family graveyard.” + </p> + <p> + “He was a faithful friend; and to be killed on that very last morning was + hard. But many were. <i>You</i> had a narrow escape, Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and was only preserved by a Bible.” + </p> + <p> + “A Bible?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember that I was reading by the camp fire, when you came to + visit me on the night preceding the surrender?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—in your wife’s Bible.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Surry, when I had finished reading, I placed the volume in + my breast, as usual. When I was shot, on the next morning, the bullet + struck the book and glanced. Had the Bible not been there, that bullet + would have pierced my heart. As it was, it only wounded me in the breast. + Here is my old Bible—I carry it about me still.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, Mohun drew from his breast the small leather-bound volume, in + the cover of which was visible a deep gash. + </p> + <p> + He looked at it with a smile, and said:—- + </p> + <p> + “This book has been the salvation of my body and soul, Surry. I was + haughty and a man-hater once—now I try to be humble. I had no hope + once, now I am happy. I have one other souvenir of that memorable day at + Appomattox—this scrap of paper between the leaves of my old Bible.” + </p> + <p> + He drew out the scrap, which was dirty and discolored with blood. + </p> + <p> + Upon it was written in pencil, the words:— + </p> + <p> + “This is the body of General Mohun, C.S.A.” + </p> + <p> + As Mohun pointed to it, a ray of sunset shot athwart the forest, and fell + on his serene features, lighting them up with a sort of glory. The clear + eyes gave back the ray, and there was something exquisitely soft in them. + Mordaunt and Landon too, were bathed in that crimson light of evening, + disappearing beyond the shaggy crest of the Blue Ridge—and I thought + I saw on their proud faces the same expression. + </p> + <p> + “These three men are happy,” I thought. “Their lot has been strange; they + have been nearly lost; but heaven has sent to each an angel, to bring back + hope to them. Ellen Adair, Georgia Conway, Violet Grafton—these fond + hearts have changed your lives, Landon, Mohun, and Mordaunt!” + </p> + <p> + In an hour I was at the “Oaks.” + </p> + <p> + A month afterward, I had returned to “Eagle’s Nest.” + </p> + <p> + And in this April, 1868, when the flowers are blooming, and the sun is + shining—when a pair of violet eyes make the sunshine still brighter—I + end the last volume of my memoirs. + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mohun, or, The Last Days of Lee and +his Paladins, by John Esten Cooke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAST DAYS OF LEE *** + +***** This file should be named 8424-h.htm or 8424-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/4/2/8424/ + + +Text file produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. 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