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diff --git a/8424-0.txt b/8424-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..84301f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/8424-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,22482 @@ +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 *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. Hodges and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + +MOHUN + +OR, + +THE LAST DAYS OF LEE AND HIS PALADINS. + + + +FINAL MEMOIRS + +OF A + +STAFF OFFICER SERVING IN VIRGINIA. + +FROM THE MSS. OF + +COLONEL SURRY, OF EAGLE’S NEST. + + + +BY + +JOHN ESTEN COOKE + +AUTHOR OF “SURRY OF EAGLE’S NEST.” + + + +_Nec aspera terrent._ + + + + +PROLOGUE. + + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +I open the drama with that fine cavalry review in June, 1863, on the +Plains of Culpeper. + +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! + +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. + +The crimson torrent will sweep away a whole generation almost--and the +Red Cross flag will go down in blood. + +The current of events will drag us to Petersburg, and those last months +which witnessed the final wrestle in this war of the giants. + +Let us bask in the sunshine, before breasting the storm. The pages of +blood and mourning will soon be opened--meanwhile we will laugh. + +In this June, 1863, faces smile still, and cheers resound. Bugles are +ringing, swords clashing, cannon thundering. + +Lee’s old army is full of ardor, and seventy thousand men shout! +“Pennsylvania! Pennsylvania!” + + + + +MOHUN; + +OR, + +THE LAST DAYS OF LEE AND HIS PALADINS. + + + +BOOK I. + + +GETTYSBURG. + + + + +I. + + +THE CAVALRY REVIEW. + + +On a beautiful day of June, 1863, the plains of Culpeper, in Virginia, +were the scene of an imposing pageant. + +Stuart’s cavalry was passing in review before Lee, who was about to +commence his march toward Gettysburg. + +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 _sabreurs_; 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. + +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. + +Among the illustrious figures gazed at by the crowd, two were the +observed of all the observers--those of Lee and Stuart. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +We had ridden about half a mile, when Stuart turned his head and called +me. I rode to his side. + +“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.” + +I saluted, and turned my horse. Stuart cantered on singing. + +In a few minutes he was out of sight, and I was riding toward the +Rappahannock. + + + + +II. + + +HOW I BECAME A MEMBER OF GENERAL STUART’S STAFF. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“You remind me of Jackson,” he said, retaining my hand and gazing +fixedly at me. + +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. + +Stuart continued to gaze at me, and I could see his eyes slowly fill +with tears. + +“It is a national calamity!” he murmured. “Jackson’s loss is +irreparable!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +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. + +Our dialogue was brief, and came rapidly to the point. + +“Have you been assigned to duty yet, my dear Surry?” + +“I have not, general.” + +“Would you like to come with me?” + +“More than with any general in the army, since Jackson’s death. You know +I am sincere in saying that.” + +“Thanks--then the matter can be very soon arranged, I think. I want +another inspector-general, and want _you_.” + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + + + + +III. + + +BLUE AND GRAY PHANTOMS. + + +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. + +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. + +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 _blue_ cavalry. + +“Halt!” rang out from the column, and a pistol-shot followed. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Halt, or you are dead!” came in the same commanding voice. + +Another flash of lightning showed me a squadron of _gray_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The whole had disappeared like phantom horsemen in the direction of the +Rappahannock. + + + + +IV. + + +MOHUN AND HIS PRISONER. + + +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. + +Mounted upon a powerful gray, he had led the attack with a sort of fury, +and I now looked at him with some curiosity. + +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.” + +His bearing was cold, but courteous. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +As he spoke he took a cigar case from his pocket, and presented it. + +“Will you smoke, sir?” he said. + +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. + +As they drew nearer the figures became plainer in the firelight. The +cavalry men had in charge a female prisoner. + +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. + +There was something strange in the expression of this woman. She looked +“dangerous” in spite of her calmness. + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly his teeth clinched audibly; he passed his hand over his +forehead streaming with cold sweat; and said in a low voice: + +“Then you are not dead, madam?” + +“No, sir,” the prisoner replied tranquilly. + +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. + +“This meeting is singular,” he said. + +A satirical smile passed over the lips of the prisoner. + +“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!” + +Mohun continued to gaze at her with the same fixed look. + +“No, madam,” he said. + +“You recall that agreeable evening, do you not, sir?” + +Mohun coolly inclined his head. + +“And you have not seen me since?” + +“Never, madam.” + +“You are mistaken!” + +“Is it possible that I could have forgotten so pleasing a circumstance, +madam?” + +“Yes!” + +“Where and when have I seen you since that time?” + +“Everywhere, and at all times!--awake and asleep, day and night!” + +Mohun shuddered. + +“True,” he said, with a bitter smile. + +“You remember, then! I am not wrong!” exclaimed the prisoner, gazing +intently at him. + +Mohun raised his head, and I could see the old cynical expression upon +his lips. + +“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 _your dear brother_!--but he is doubtless detained +elsewhere!” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +“Impossible! You are deceiving me--” + +The prisoner interrupted him with a gay laugh. + +“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_ am +not dead, since we have the pleasure of again meeting in the flesh. _He_ +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 _he_ is neither dead nor captured, and you will doubtless +receive some friendly message from him soon.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +And calling an officer, he said:-- + +“You will conduct this lady to General Stuart, reporting the +circumstances attending her capture.” + +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. + +The prisoner, escorted by the young officer, and still riding her fine +horse, had already disappeared in the darkness. + + + + +V. + + +STUART. + + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Blame you? Not in the least, general. You are a very gallant man.” + +And the gay words were accompanied by a musical laugh. + +“You will have an opportunity of seeing the Confederate capital,” said +Stuart, smiling. + +The lady made a humorous grimace. + +“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.” + +“I shall not abuse you, sir. You are the noblest gentleman I have ever +known.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: The real words of Stuart’s prisoner] + +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. + +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. + +“That is really a beauty, Surry?” he said, “and I have laughed +heartily.” + +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. + +“Well, you are really a magician,” I said. “You charm the evil spirit, +and make prisoners laugh.” + +Stuart laughed in reply. + +“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.” + +“Yes.” + +“But what about the fight?” + +I made my report of the events of the evening. + +“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?” + +“Only a scout.” + +“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.” + +“She is certainly a beauty.” + +“And what eyes!” + +“Dangerous.” + +Stuart remained silent for some moments, and then I heard him sigh. + +“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 _you_, 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!” + +[Footnote 1: This was actually said of Stuart.] + +[Footnote 2: His words] + +Stuart’s head sank, and he uttered a weary sigh. + +“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!” + +And he rose to his feet. + +“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! _One_ 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--” + +And Stuart paused and covered his eyes with his hand. Between the +fingers I saw a tear. + +For a moment his breast heaved--something like a sob issued from the +brave lip, whereon the heavy mustache trembled. + +“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.” + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +And dashing a tear from his eyes, Stuart walked to the door of his tent, +from which he gazed forth upon the stars. + +Five minutes passed thus, and I did not speak. Then all at once I heard +Stuart call out: “Orderly!” + +“Yes, sir,” came from the man on post near the tent. + +“Tell Sweeney to come and bring his banjo!” + +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. + +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. + +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 _could_ chant, the mighty epic of +the sabreurs of Stuart:-- + + “If you want to have a good time + Jine the cavalry, + Bully Boys, hey!” + +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. + + + + + +VI. + + +STUART’S INSTINCT. + + +The festivities were kept up until nearly midnight. + +Then Stuart yawned; said with a laugh, “Good morning, gentle-_men_” as +was his habit when he wished to work; and the tent was soon deserted. + +I retired to rest, but at three in the morning felt a hand upon my +shoulder. + +“The general is going to move, colonel, and wishes to see you,” said the +orderly. + +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. + +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. + +“Captain Davenant, of my horse artillery, Colonel Surry,” said Stuart. + +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. + +“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!” + +The young officer drew back blushing more than ever at these words. His +confusion seemed to deprive him of the power of utterance. + +“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!” + +“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.” + +“Ready, general.” + +“All right!--Hagan!” + +“General!” + +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. + +“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!” + +Hagan saluted and vanished without uttering a word. In five minutes the +camp was buzzing, and “Lady Margaret” was led up. + +“Come on, Surry! Come on, Davenant! I will beat you to the Court-House!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Stuart peered under the coal-scuttle bonnet. + +“And this is your ‘old woman’ my friend,” he said with a laugh. + +“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!” + +“A profound sentiment!” laughed Stuart, and riding on without further +words, he left the countryman free to proceed on his way. + +We crossed a little stream, rode on toward Fleetwood, and had nearly +reached Brandy when Stuart suddenly reined in his horse. + +“Do you know what I think,” he said, “that I have done a foolish thing?” + +“What, general?” + +“To let that old fellow go on. I don’t like his looks.” + +“The old countryman?” + +“Yes; I wish I had arrested him--him and his wife.” + +“Arrested them?” + +Stuart nodded. + +“I have an instinct about rascals, Surry; and something tells me that I +have been guilty of an imprudence.” + +“Was not his explanation satisfactory?” + +“No.” + +“What could be wrong?” + +“Everything.” + +“And his ‘old woman,’” I said, laughing; “think of that highly +respectable dame.” + +“I like her least of all!” + +“From instinct?” + +“If you choose.” + +“I think your instinct misleads you this time, general.” + +“I think not.” + +“Well, we will see.” + +And we did see. + +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. + +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. + +He read it with an air of decided ill-humor. Then throwing it upon his +desk, burst into a laugh. + +“Well, Surry,” he said, “who is right and who is wrong, now? Read that!” + +And he pointed to the note, which I opened and read. It was in a +delicate female hand, and ran as follows:-- + +“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. + +“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 _we will meet again_.” + +That was all. I raised my eyes from the paper, and looked at the general +with stupefaction. + +“Then that ‘old woman’ was the lady?” + +“Precisely.” + +“And we are fooled?” + +“Completely. They are by this time on the other side of the +Rappahannock.” + +With these words, Stuart dismissed the whole subject, turned to his +desk, and in a moment was busy at his official writing. + + + + +VII. + + +THE BALL BEFORE THE BATTLE. + + +On the same evening I was riding with Stuart toward Culpeper +Court-House. + +“Do you know where we are going, Surry?” he said, with a laugh. + +“I can guess, I think.” + +“Try.” + +“To the ball given by the young officers to the Charlottesville belles +tonight.” + +“You are wrong, old fellow. I don’t dare to go there.” + +“Don’t dare?” + +“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.” + +“I begin to understand now.” + +“They are dangerous.” + +“Yes.” + +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.” + +“Is it possible?” + +“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.” + +[Footnote 1: Fact.] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +And rapidly dismounting, Stuart entered the ball-room. I followed. + +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 _militaire_, with +a number of great events to speak of. Look in the newspapers of that +period for an account of the assembly. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“Miss Georgia Conway, a daughter of Judge William Conway.” + +“Ah,” I said, “the statesman?--the successor of Randolph in bitter +oratory?” + +“Yes, and yonder he is.” + +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. + +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. + +Turning to my friend I inquired the name of the young lady, in turn. + +“Miss Virginia Conway,” he replied, “the only sister of Miss Georgia.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Before I had time to reflect upon this singular incident, I heard the +voice of Stuart. + +“Come, Surry! to horse! unless you wish to remain!” he said. + +“Ready, general!” I replied. + +And in five minutes we were galloping toward Fleetwood. + +“A gay ball,” said Stuart, as we rode along; “but do you remember _my +instinct_, Surry?” + +“Perfectly, general. Has it told you something on the present occasion?” + +“Yes.” + +“What?” + +“You have heard of the famous ball at Brussells, broken up by the guns +of Waterloo?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Well, I think that this one will prove similar--that cannon are going +to thunder before the music stops.” + +Stuart had scarcely spoken when rapid hoof-strokes were heard in front, +and a horseman shot by. + +“Have you seen General Stuart?” said a voice in the darkness. + +“Here I am--what news, Stringfellow?” + +The horseman drew rein so suddenly that his horse was thrown upon his +haunches. “You will be attacked at daylight, general.” + +“Well,--what force?” + +“The whole Yankee cavalry, with infantry and artillery supports.” + +“All right; ride back with me, and tell me every thing, Stringfellow.” + +In half an hour we were at head-quarters. Stuart dismounted and entered +his tent. + +“You see I was right, Surry,” he said turning toward me, “and there is +something in my _instinct_ after all!” + + + + +VIII. + + +FLEETWOOD. + + +At daylight a long thunder came up from the woods of the Rappahannock. +The greatest cavalry combat of the war had begun. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +In face of the bursting shell, the blue _tirailleurs_ could not advance; +and Stuart sent an order to Hampton to move in and attack on the right. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +“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?” + +“It must be Wickham’s,” was his reply. + +“I am sure they are Yankees!” + +“Impossible!” he exclaimed. + +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. + +The horse artillery returned the fire, and I hastened back with the +intelligence to Stuart. + +“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] + +[Footnote: His words] + +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. + +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. + +The battle seemed lost. Stuart was cut off, and hemmed in between two +powerful bodies of Federal cavalry, supported by infantry and artillery. + +All that saved us at that moment, was the “do or die” fighting of the +cavalry and horse artillery. + +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. + +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. + +Before he could fire, a Federal cavalryman rode at him, and cut +furiously at his bare head, with the full weight of his sabre. + +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. + +[Footnote 1: Fact.] + +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. + +[Footnote 1: Fact.] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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] + +[Footnote 1: Fact.] + +All at once I saw a column of cavalry coming up from the river, and +turning to Stuart, said:-- + +“General, what cavalry is that?” + +“Hampton’s!” Stuart exclaimed. “Bring it up like lightning!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +I set out at full gallop, and soon reached the column. At the head of +it rode Young, the _beau sabreur_ of Georgia, erect, gallant, with his +brave eye and smile. + +I pointed out the enemy and gave the order. + +“All right!” exclaimed Young, and, turning to his men, he whirled his +sabre around his head and shouted, + +“Forward!” + +The column thundered on, and as it passed I recognized Mohun, his +flashing eye and burnished sabre gleaming from the dust-cloud. + +In five minutes they were in front of the enemy--the men wheeled and +faced the Federal line. + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: Fact.] + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Stuart held with his cavalry, indeed, the whole Fleetwood range. The +long thunder of his artillery said to the enemy, + +“Come on!” + +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. + +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. + +But Stuart had won the greatest cavalry fight of the war. + + + + +IX. + + +MOHUN FAINTS AT THE RIGHT MOMENT. + + +In a room of the “Barbour House” on Fleetwood Hill, Stuart was writing a +dispatch to General Lee. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Any reports?” he said briefly to a member of his staff. + +“None, general--except that Colonel Mohun is reported killed.” + +“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!” + +“Thank you, general!” said a sonorous voice behind us. + +And Mohun entered, making the military salute as he did so. + +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. + +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. + +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 _amour propre_ was +deeply wounded. + +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. + +“Then you are not dead, Mohun!” exclaimed Stuart, laughing. + +“Not in the least, general, I am happy to inform you,” replied Mohun. + +“I am truly glad to hear it! What news?” + +“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.” + +“An acquaintance?” + +“A certain Colonel Darke--a charming person, general.” And Mohun +laughed. + +“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.” + +“What was that, Mohun?” + +“A bullet from his pistol, which grazed my shoulder. A mere scratch, but +provoking. I saw him grin as he fired.” + +“An old friend on the Yankee side? Well, that happens,” said Stuart-- + +“Frequently, general,” said Mohun; “and this one was _very_ 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!” + +And Mohun’s mustache curled with laughter. There was something restless +and sinister in it. + +Suddenly his face grew paler, and his eyes were half closed. + +“Well, Mohun,” said Stuart, who was not looking at him; “I am going to +send you across the river on a reconnaissance to-night.” + +“All right, general.” + +And the officer made the military salute. As he did so, he staggered, +and Stuart raised his eyes. + +“You are wounded!” he exclaimed. + +“A trifle,” laughed Mohun. + +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. + +Mohun opened his eyes, and a grim smile came to his pale face. + +“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--” + +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. + + + + +X. + + +THE SLIM ANIMAL. + + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +The world had called Lee cautious. After this invasion, that charge was +not repeated. From first to last audacity seemed the sentiment inspiring +him. + +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. + +Hooker wished to advance upon it, but President Lincoln forbade him. The +dispatch was a queer official document. + +“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, _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._” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“In my opinion Milroy’s men will fight better _under a soldier!_” + +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! + +Exit Milroy, thus amid hisses and laughter--the hornet’s nest at +Winchester was swept away--and Ewell headed straight for Pennsylvania. + +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. + +Hooker did not see his “opening;” but Lincoln did. One of his dispatches +has been quoted--here is another as amusing and as judicious. + +“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, _the animal must be very slim somewhere--could you not +break him?_” + +But Hooker could not. He did not even try. Lee’s movements seemed to +paralyze him--his chief of staff wrote:-- + +“We cannot go boggling round, until we know what we are going after.” + +“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. + +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!” + +To return to the cavalry. The horsemen of Stuart were going to move in +an eccentric orbit. These are my _memoirs_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +With one scene in the hurrying drama I shall pass to greater events. + +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. + + + + +XI. + + +NIGHTHAWK. + + +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. + +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. + +His presence was so sudden and unexpected that I started. Then I looked +at him, curiously. + +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. + +Stuart uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. + +“Ah! Nighthawk, here you are!” he said. + +And turning to me he introduced the new comer as “Mr. Nighthawk, one of +my ‘private friends,’ and true as steel.” + +Mr. Nighthawk bowed with an air of smiling respect--of benignant +sweetness. + +“I am glad to know you, colonel, and hope I may have an opportunity of +being of service to you some day,” he said. + +The voice was low, soft, and accorded with the mild expression of the +countenance. + +“Well, what news, Nighthawk?” asked Stuart; “experience tells me that +you have something of importance to communicate?” + +“Ah, general!” + +“Yes. You pass in the cavalry by the name of the ‘man before the +battle,’ for you always turn up then.” + +Mr. Nighthawk smiled. + +“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.” + +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. + +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 _au fait_ 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. + +“So the summing up of all this,” said Stuart, “that our friends are not +too hopeful?” + +“They are not, general.” + +“They say Lee must win a great victory on the soil of Pennsylvania?” + +“Yes, general. Without it there is no hope of peace, they declare.” + +“Well, I think they are right; and that we shall gain the victory.” + +Mr. Nighthawk made no reply; and Stuart reflected for some moments +without speaking. Then rousing himself:-- + +“I forgot,” he said. “You have not given me your special information, +Nighthawk.” + +The worthy smiled. + +“You know I am the ‘man before the battle,’ general?” + +“Yes, go on, Nighthawk.” + +“I have just left General Hooker’s head-quarters.” + +“Where are they?” + +“Beyond Centreville.” + +“You saw him?” + +“I conversed with him.” + +“Ah!” + +“An hour, general, as the Rev. Mr. Ward, from Massachusett, of the +‘Grand Union Sanitary Commission’.” + +And Mr. Nighthawk smiled. + +“Of course I urged active movements, and General Hooker became quite +animated.” + +“He agreed with your views then?” said Stuart, laughing. + +“Perfectly, general.” + +“And he intends--” + +“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.” + +“An order?” + +“For two divisions of cavalry, one of infantry, and a full complement of +artillery, to advance and drive you back to the mountain.” + +“Ah! you saw that order?” + +“I did, general; it was just ready to be sent.” + +“What day did it fix?” + +“To-morrow, general.” + +“Ah, indeed! Two divisions of infantry and one of cavalry?” + +Mr. Nighthawk inclined in assent. + +“When did you leave Hooker’s head-quarters?” + +“This afternoon.” + +“And you came through the lines to-night?” + +“Yes, general, in the usual way, by passing through the pickets. I was +on foot and nothing was easier.” + +Stuart knit his brows and reflected. Then he called to the orderly. + +“Wake the adjutant-general, and have three couriers ready at once!” + +Mr. Nighthawk arose. + +“By-the-by, general,” he said, “I saw Swartz, whom I have mentioned to +you.” + +“Yes; the best spy, you say, in the Federal army.” + +“I think he is, general. He is a wonderful man. He recently played a +trick upon you.” + +“Upon _me_?” + +“At least he bore off a prisoner from you. It was a lady, captured by +Colonel Mohun, one night on the Rappahannock.” + +“Ah! Is it possible! So Swartz was the old countryman, driving the wagon +that morning.” + +“So he informed me, general.” + +“You are friends, then?” + +“Close friends.” + +And Mr. Nighthawk smiled. + +“We have an agreement--but that would not interest you, general. That +was really Swartz, and the old woman was the prisoner.” + +“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?” + +Mr. Nighthawk glanced quickly at the face of the general. His eyes +resembled steel points, but the piercing glance at once sank. + +“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.” + +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. + +“And now to work!” exclaimed Stuart. “We are going to fight tomorrow, +Surry, since the ‘man before the battle’ has made his appearance!” + + + + +XII. + + +HOW STUART FELL BACK. + + +At daybreak, Stuart was going at full gallop to the front. + +A rapid fire of skirmishers, mingled with the dull roar of cannon, +indicated that Nighthawk had not been deceived. + +All at once the sharp-shooters were seen falling back from the woods. + +“Bring me a piece of artillery!” exclaimed Stuart, darting to the front. + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly one of them leaped into the air and fell, torn in two by a +second round shot. + +“Quick work!” said Stuart, grimly. + +And turning round to me, he said, pointing to a hill in rear-- + +“Post three pieces on that hill to rake all the roads.” + +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. + +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. + +“All right, Davenant! Hold your ground!” exclaimed Stuart. + +“I will do so, general.” + +“Can you keep them from crossing?” + +“I can try, general.” + +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:-- + +“General Stuart seems trying to get himself and everybody killed.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Move back the guns!” exclaimed Stuart. + +“Is it necessary, general?” asked Davenant. + +“Yes, they will be captured in five minutes!” + +“It is a pity we can not remain, general. This is an excellent +position.” + +And he gave the order to limber up. The operation was performed amid a +hurricane of bullets, striking down the cannoneers. + +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:-- + +“You are fighting for your guns, boys! You promised to die by your +guns!” + +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. + +In fifteen minutes we were driven. + +Driven! Do you know what that means, reader? Ask old soldiers if it is +pleasant. They will growl in reply! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +I was ten yards from Stuart, just at the edge of the town, when a picked +body of Federal horsemen darted straight upon him. + +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. + +In an instant he would have been killed or captured, with his staff and +body-guard, when a resounding shout was heard. + +I glanced over my shoulder, and saw the cavaliers of Hampton coming on +with drawn sabre. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XIV. + + +MOSBY COMES TO STUART’S ASSISTANCE. + + +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. + +At daylight he was in the saddle, and spurred to the high ground +commanding Upperville. + +All at once he checked his horse. The enemy had disappeared. + +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. + +An hour afterward the lines were re-established in triumph. + +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. + +“My poor fellows!” he said, with a sigh, “they will have a hard time +to-night.” + +Then suddenly turning to his servant, he added:-- + +“Spread my oil-cloth and blankets under that apple tree yonder. I will +keep them dry enough when I once get into them.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +“You are not going to sleep out on such a night, general!” exclaimed a +staff officer. + +“Certainly I am,” was his reply, “I don’t intend to fare better than my +men!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +And an hour afterward Stuart was asleep under the apple tree, with a +torrent pouring on him. + +That was the act of a good officer and soldier, was it not, reader? + +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. + +“Here is Mosby at last!” he said. + +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. + +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. + +Mosby’s intelligence must have pleased him. It at least dispelled his +gloom. + +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. + +A quarter of a mile from head-quarters he leaped a fence, and doubled +back, going in the direction now of Manassas. + +At daylight on the next morning he had forced his way through the Bull +Run mountain. + +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. + + + + +XV. + + +THE SUPPER NEAR BUCKLANDS. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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:-- + +“All are here, madam!” + +All at once, however, a voice at the door responded:-- + +“I think you are mistaken, general!” + +And he who had uttered these words advanced into the apartment. + +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. + +Stuart grasped his hand warmly. + +“Here you are, old fellow!” he exclaimed. + +And turning to the company, he added:-- + +“My new aid-de-camp, Lieutenant Herbert, ladies. A fop--but an old +soldier. Take that seat by Colonel Surry, Tom.” + +And every one sat down, and attacked the supper. + +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. + +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. + +Behind every chair now stood an officer in uniform. + +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] + +[Footnote 1: A real incident.] + + + + +XVI. + + +AN HONEST FOP. + + +Stuart moved again at dawn. The scene of the preceding evening had +passed away like a dream. We were in the saddle, and advancing. + +Riding beside Lieutenant Tom Herbert, I conversed with that worthy, and +found the tedious march beguiled by his gay and insouciant talk. + +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. + +“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.” + +Tom Herbert’s laugh was contagious; his whole bearing so sunny and +_riante_ that he was charming. + +“Well, how did you awake from your _dolce far niente?_” I said. + +“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!” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“What’s the matter, Tom?” he said. + +“I want a place in the cavalry, general.” + +“What claim have you?” + +“Shot in the leg--can’t walk--am tired of drilling men in bomb-proof.” + +“Good!” he said. “That’s the way to talk. Come in here.” + +“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.” + +“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!” + + + + +XVII. + + +STUART GRAZES CAPTURE. + + +As Tom Herbert uttered these words, a loud shout in front startled us. + +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. + +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. + +“Halt!” shouted the enemy. And this order was followed by “bang! bang! +bang!” + +Stuart did not obey the order. + +“Halt! halt!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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] + +[Footnote 1: Real.] + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +“What are you looking at?” asked Stuart. + +“This hole, general,” replied Tom, uttering a piteous sigh. + +“Well, it is a trifle.” + +“It is a serious matter, general.” + +“You have lost something?” + +“Yes.” + +“What?” + +“A joint of my new flute.” + +And Tom Herbert’s expression was so melancholy that Stuart burst into +laughter. + +“You may have lost your flute, Tom,” he said, leaning on his shoulder, +“but you have won your spurs at least, in the cavalry!” + + + + +XVIII. + + +DROWSYLAND. + + +At daylight, on the next morning, Stuart had crossed the Potomac into +Maryland. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +It was a serious matter then, but I laugh now, remembering that “good +run.” + +Stuart and myself retreated at a gallop, boot to boot; leaped ditches +and fences; and got off in safety. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +So the night came on, and Stuart’s great train moved. + +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! + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +He advanced steadily on Carlisle, and in the afternoon we heard +artillery from the south. + +I looked at my military map, and calculated the distance. The result was +that I said:-- + +“General, those guns are at a place called Gettysburg on this map.” + +“Impossible!” was his reply. “They can not be fighting there. You are +certainly wrong.” + +But I was right. + +Those guns were the signal of the “First day’s fight at Gettysburg.” + + + + +XIX + + +CARLISLE BY FIRELIGHT. + + +It can not be said that we accomplished very enormous results at +Carlisle. The enemy defended it bravely. + +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. + +That was the signal for a brisk fight, and a magnificent spectacle also. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +On the bold face there was an expression of decided ill-humor. He had +just received a dispatch, by courier, from General Lee. + +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. + +Suddenly he turned and addressed me. + +“You were right, Surry,” he said, “those guns were at Gettysburg. This +dispatch, sent this morning, reports the enemy near there.” + +I bowed; Stuart reflected for some moments without speaking. Then he +suddenly said:-- + +“I wish you would go to General Lee, and say I am coming, Surry. How is +your horse?” + +“Worn-out, general, but I can get another.” + +“Good; tell General Lee that I will move at once to Gettysburg, with all +my force, and as rapidly as possible!” + +“I will lose no time, general.” + +And saluting, I went out. + +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. + + + + +XX. + + +THE HOUSE BETWEEN CARLISLE AND GETTYSBURG. + + +You know when you set out, the proverb says, but you know not when you +will arrive. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +As he pocketed the paper, his companion turned round. It was plain that +she had not perceived the manoeuvre. + +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. + +In the new-comer I recognized Mohun’s adversary at Upperville--Colonel +Darke, of the United States Cavalry. + + + + +XXI. + + +FALLEN. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +“That brute,” I thought, “was once a gentleman, and crime or drink has +destroyed him!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:-- + +“Nothing is stirring. You can go on with your work.” + +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. + +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. + +As they passed I recognized them. One was Mohun, the other Nighthawk. + + + + +XXII. + + +DARKE AND MOHUN. + + +What followed was instantaneous. + +The adversaries were face to face, and each drew his pistol and fired at +the same moment. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:-- + +“Look out, colonel! The enemy are on you!” + +As he uttered these words, the man drew a revolver and aimed at Mohun’s +breast. + +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. + +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. + +The singular scene was to have as singular a denouement. + +Darke evidently realized the great danger which he ran, for the house +was now surrounded, nearly, and his capture was imminent. + +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. + +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. + +Darke recoiled from his stumbling adversary, instead of striking at him. +I could scarcely believe my own eyes, but the fact was unmistakable. + +Then the Federal colonel looked around, and his eye fell upon the woman. + +“Kill him!” she said, coldly. “Do not mind me!--only kill him!” + +“No!” growled Darke. And seizing the woman in his arms:-- + +“They shall not take you prisoner!” he said. + +And the swarthy Hercules passed through the door in rear at a single +bound, bearing off the woman like a feather. + +A moment afterward the hoof-strokes of a horse were heard. + +Darke had disappeared with the gray woman. + +I turned to look at Mohun. He was standing perfectly motionless, and +looking after Darke with a strange expression of gloom and astonishment. + +“You are unhurt!” I said. + +He turned quickly, and held out his hand. + +“Slightly wounded--but I am not thinking of that.” + +“Of what, then?” + +“I remember only one thing--that this man might have buried his sword in +my heart, and did not.” + +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. + +It was hard to realize that the scenes of the night were actual +occurrences. They were more like dreams than realities. + + + + +XXIII. + + +GETTYSBURG. + + +I came in sight of Gettysburg at sunrise. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +I reached it on the morning of July 2, 1863. + +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. + +A few words will describe the situation of affairs at that moment. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The head of Hill’s column struck the head of Reynolds’s--then the +thunder began. + +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. + +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. + +I give but a few words to this first struggle, which I did not witness. + +The Federal forces rushed forward, exclaiming:--- + +“We have come to stay!” + +“And a very large portion of them,” said one of their officers, General +Doubleday, “never left that ground!” + +Alas! many thousands in gray, too, “came to stay.” + +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. + +Rodes, the head of Ewell’s corps, formed line and threw himself into the +action. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +Cemetery Range was not seized that night. When the sun rose the next +morning, the golden moment had passed. General Meade was ready. + +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. + +“Come on!” the Federal artillery seemed to mutter fiercely. + +And Lee’s guns from the ridge opposite thundered grimly in reply, + +“We are coming!” + + + + +XXIV. + + +THE ARMY. + + +Alas!-- + +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. + +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. + +And we were so near succeeding! Twice the enemy staggered; and one more +blow--only one more! promised the South a complete victory! + +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 + +“The century reeled When Longstreet paused on the slope of the hill.” + +Pickett stormed Cemetery Heights, and wanted only support. Five thousand +men at his back would have given him victory. + +There is a name for the battle of Gettysburg which exactly suits +it--“The Great Graze!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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!” + +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! + +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. + +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. + +“Lee has only to slip the leash,” I thought, as I gazed at the army, +“and these war-dogs will tear down their prey!” + +Alas! they tore it, but were torn too! they did all at Gettysburg that +any troops could do. + +What was impossible, was beyond even their strength. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +THE WRESTLE FOR ROUND TOP HILL. + + +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. + +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. + +The first of them was Longstreet’s assault on the enemy’s left wing, in +front of Round Top Hill. + +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. + +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.” + +As to the importance of that crest--namely Round Top Hill--hear General +Meade:-- + +“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.” + +Lee determined to attack the salient, making at the same time a heavy +demonstration--or a real assault--upon the Federal right, opposite +Ewell. + +All his preparations were not made until the afternoon. Then suddenly, +Longstreet’s artillery opened its thunders. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Longstreet sat on a fence, cutting a stick with his penknife, when an +English officer near him exclaimed:-- + +“I would not have missed this for any thing?” + +Longstreet, laughed grimly. + +“I would like to have missed it very much!”[1] he said. + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + + + + +XXVI. + + +THE CHARGE OF THE VIRGINIANS. + + +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. + +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. + +What course would Lee now pursue? Would he retire? + +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 _a retreat_! + +That was the spirit of the army on the night of the second of July. + +A flanking movement to draw the enemy out of their works, or a second +attack remained. + +Lee determined to attack. + +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. + +That was hazardous, you will say perhaps to-day, reader. And you have +this immense argument to advance, that it failed. Ah! these arguments +_after the event_! they are so fatal, and so very easy. + +Right or wrong, Lee resolved to make the attack; and on the third of +July he carried out his resolution. + +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. + +Let us pass over that tragedy rapidly. It must be touched on in these +memoirs--but I leave it soon. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Those two tigers, the army of Northern Virginia and the army of the +Potomac, are crouching, and about to spring. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +[Footnote: This was the real reason.] + +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. + +From the Cemetery Heights the enemy watch that ominous apparition--the +gray line of Virginians drawn up for the charge. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +THE GREAT MOMENT OF A GREAT LIFE. + + +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. + +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. + +I spurred toward him. + +“Your son--!” I said, and I pointed to the boy. + +“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. + +“Such a child!” I said. “Could _he_ have gone into the charge?” + +“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--!” + +A groan followed the words: and bending down the old cavalier kissed the +pale cheek of the boy. + +I made no reply; something seemed to choke me. + +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. + +General Davenant wheeled and saluted. + +“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!” + +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:-- + +“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 _my_ +fault. It is _I_ who have lost this fight, and you must help me out of +it in the best way you can.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +As he uttered these measured words, General Lee saluted and disappeared +in the smoke. + +General Davenant followed, bearing the wounded boy still upon his +saddle. + +Ten minutes afterward, I was riding to find General Stuart, who had sent +me with a message just before the charge. + +I had gloomy news for him. The battle of Gettysburg was lost. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +UNSHAKEN. + + +The sun was sinking red and baleful, when I reached Stuart, beyond the +left wing of the army. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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? + +That idea--entertained by a number of our Northern friends--is entirely +fanciful. + +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. + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +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. + +“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.” + +“Did you discover,” asked one of the committee, “after the battle of +Gettysburg, any symptoms of demoralization in Lee’s army?” + +“No, sir,” was General Meade’s reply, “I saw nothing of that kind.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: General Meade’s testimony may be found in the Report on the +Conduct of the War. Part I., p. 337.] + +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. + +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. + +That is the true history of the matter. + +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 _them_! + +Then commenced that singular retreat. + +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. + +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. + +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 +_*de haut en bas_ on him--on this timid soldier who had not cut Lee to +pieces. + + +[Illustration: MEETING OF GENERALS LEE AND DAVENANT.] + +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. + +At Williamsport, Lee halted and drew up his army in line of battle. The +Potomac, swollen by rains, presented an impassable obstacle. + +Meade, following slowly, was met at every step by Stuart’s cavalry; but +finally faced his adversary. + +Every thing presaged a great battle, and Lee’s cannon from the hills +south of Hagerstown laughed, + +“Come on!” + +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. + +Day after day the adversaries remained in line of battle facing each +other. + +Lee neither invited nor declined battle. + +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. + +Stuart followed, bringing up the rear with his cavalry column; and the +whole army was once more on the soil of Virginia. + +They had come back after a great march and a great battle. + +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. + +Gettysburg in fact is the turning point of the struggle. From that day +dated the decadence of the Southern arms. + +At Chancellorsville, the ascending steps of victory culminated--and +stopped. + +At Gettysburg, the steps began to descend into the valley of defeat, and +the shadow of death. + +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. + +That picture may be gloomy--but it will be sublime, too. + + + + + +BOOK II. + + + + +THE FLOWER OF CAVALIERS. + + + + +I. + + +UNDER “STUART’S OAK.” + +Crossing to the south bank of the Potomac, Stuart established his +headquarters at “The Bower,” an old mansion on the Opequon. + +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. + +All at the “Bower,” loved Stuart; they love him to-day; and will love +him always. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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-- + + “The dew is on the blossom!” + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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 + + “The cold, chilly winds of December, + Stole my flowers, my companions from me!” + +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! + +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. + +Suddenly Stuart starts up and exclaims:-- + +“Stop that, Sweeney! you will make everybody die of the blues. Sing the +‘Old Gray Horse’ again, or ‘Jine the Cavalry!’” + +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! + +O gay summer nights on the banks of the Opequon! you have flown, but +linger still in memory! + + + +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. + +That hour under the old oak, in the autumn of 1867, was one of the +saddest that I have ever spent. + +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! + + + + +II. + + +BACK TO THE RAPIDAN. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Such had been the result of the great campaign, in its merely military +aspect. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +Such was the condition of things in the army of Northern Virginia in the +first days of October, 1863. + + + + +III. + + +THE OPENING OF THE HUNT. + + +It soon became obvious that Lee had resolved to strike a blow at his +adversary. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _raid_ 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. + +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! + + + + +IV. + + +THE GAME A-FOOT. + + +It was a magnificent morning of October, + +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. + +He was entering on his last great cavalry campaign--and it was to be one +of his most successful and splendid. + +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. + +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. + +On the next morning at daylight he had struck the enemy. + +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. + +A courier came to meet him from the advance guard, riding at full +gallop. + +“Well!” said Stuart. + +“A regiment of infantry, general.” + +“Where?” + +“Yonder in the gap.” + +And he pointed to a gorge in the little mountain before us. + +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. + +“We have flushed a regiment of infantry, Gordon. Can you break them?” + +“I think I can, general.” + +The handsome face of the soldier glowed--his bright eyes flashed. + +“All right. Get ready, then, to attack in front. I will take Young, and +strike them at the same moment on the right flank!” + +With which words Stuart went at a gallop and joined Young. + +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. + +Stuart explained his design in three words:-- + +“Are you ready?” + +“All ready, general!” + +And Young’s sabre flashed from the scabbard. + +At the same instant the crash of carbines in front, indicated Gordon’s +charge. + +Young darted to the head of his column. + +“Charge!” he shouted. + +And leading the column, he descended like a thunderbolt on the enemy’s +flank. + +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. + +“Good!” Stuart exclaimed, as long lines of prisoners appeared, going to +the rear, “a fair beginning, at least!” + +And he rode on rapidly. + + + + +V. + + +THE CHASE. + + +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. + +On the opposite range we saw the enemy’s cavalry drawn up; and, as we +afterward learned, commanded by General Kilpatrick. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Strangest of all, no one was hurt. + +Stuart laughed, and mounted his horse. + +“A good shot!” he said, “look at Surry’s hat!” which, on examination, I +found covered half an inch deep with earth. + +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. + +At nightfall the enemy was still in position, and Stuart had not +advanced. + +We spent the night at a farm-house, and were in the saddle again at +dawn. + +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. + +All at once quick firing was heard on our right. + +“What is that?” Stuart asked. + +“An infantry regiment, general!” said Weller, one of our couriers, +galloping quickly up. + +The words acted upon Stuart like the blow of a sword. A wild excitement +seemed to seize him. + +“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!” + +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. + +Never had I seen him more excited. He was plainly on fire with the idea +of capturing the whole party. + +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. + +“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. + +A fine spectacle followed. As the Federal infantry double-quicked up a +slope, Baylor charged. + +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. + +The muzzles spouted flame, and the cavalry received the fire at thirty +yards. + +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. + +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. + +The enemy’s cavalry retreated, made a stand on the hills beyond, with +their artillery; and seemed to have resolved to retreat no farther. + +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. + +“That is Fitz Lee!” he said; “he has crossed and driven them.” + +And turning round,-- + +“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.” + +I saluted, and left the two generals laughing as before. + +In half an hour I had found General Lee. He was in camp on the +Sperryville road, and was talking to Ewell. + +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. + +“Thank you, colonel,” General Lee said, with his grave but charming +courtesy; “tell General Stuart to continue to press them back toward the +river.” + +And turning to Ewell:-- + +“You had better move on with your command, general,” he said, in his +measured voice. + +Ewell bowed and turned to obey--I returned to Stuart. + +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. + +A queer circumstance made this fight irresistibly comic. + +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 _his_! + +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! + +General Fitz was the man for a “tight place,” however--and “his people,” + as he called his cavalry, soon cut through to Stuart. + +It was a tough and heavy fight. + +“Old Jeb cut off more than he could _chaw_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + + + + +VI. + + +THE RUSE. + + +By sunrise Stuart was pushing rapidly up the bank of the Rappahannock +toward Warrenton Springs. + +Meade had retreated from Culpeper, and was falling back rapidly. Lee was +pressing on to cut him off in the vicinity of Auburn. + +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. + +Stuart followed, and came up with their rear retreating over the bridge +at Warrenton Springs. + +On the northern bank the Federal sharp-shooters were posted in double +line. + +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. + +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. + +The men wheeled and came back under a hot fire of sharp-shooters. +Stuart’s face was fiery. + +“To the ford!” he shouted. + +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. + +The Twelfth Virginia Cavalry followed them, and they were cut down or +captured. + +As the column moved on, Stuart galloped along the line toward the front. + +He had just faced death with these men, and at sight of him they raised +a cheer. + +“Hurrah for old Jeb!” rose in a shout from the column. + +Stuart turned: his face glowed: rising in his stirrups, he took off his +hat and exclaimed:--- + +“Bully for the old Twelfth!” + +The words were unclassic, it may be, reader, but they raised a storm. + +“I felt like I could die for old Jeb after that,” one of the men said to +me. + +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:-- + +“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. + +“You know where Young is?” + +“On the Sperryville road.” + +“Exactly--Rosser can count on him. I am going on toward Warrenton.” + +And the general and myself parted, riding in opposite directions. + +I returned toward Hazel River; passed that stream, and the long rows of +army wagons; and as the sun was sinking, drew near Culpeper. + +As I pressed on, I heard the long thunder of cannon coming up from the +direction of Brandy. + +What could that sound mean? Had the enemy again advanced and assailed +the small force of cavalry there? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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! + +The finale was comic--I shared the blankets of the gallant Georgian that +night--when we rose the enemy’s whole force had disappeared. + +Such had been the result of the ruse, and I always regarded the affair +as one of the gayest incidents of the war. + +When I left the brave Young, he was laughing in triumph. + +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? + +But whether you laugh or sigh, and wherever you may be, health and +happiness attend you! + +In the afternoon, I was at Warrenton. + + + + +VII. + + +STUART CAUGHT IN THE TRAP. + + +I found the general moving toward Auburn, on a reconnoissance. + +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. + +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. + +Another comedy was to follow--which came near being a tragedy. + +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. + +“Well!” said Stuart. + +“The enemy are in your rear, general!” + +“Impossible!” + +“General Gordon sent me to say so.” + +Stuart turned and galloped back. Gordon came to meet him. + +“The Yankee army are in our rear, general,” said Gordon. “Come, and I +will show you.” + +And riding to an eminence he pointed out across the fields, in the +gathering gloom, long lines of infantry and artillery moving toward +Manassas. + +Stuart gazed at them keenly. As he sat looking toward them, a staff +officer from the front came up rapidly. + +“Well, captain!” + +“The enemy are in front, general.” + +“Infantry?” + +“Yes, with artillery.” + +Stuart looked at Gordon. + +“A real trap,” he said coolly, knitting his brows. + +“Have they seen you, Gordon?” he asked. + +“I think not, general.” + +“Well, so far all is well. There is nothing to do but to lay low, and +take the chances of getting out.” + +Stuart’s voice was never cooler. He looked quietly at the huge column +cutting off his retreat. + +“A splendid chance to attack them!” he all at once exclaimed. + +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. + +“A good man in blue uniform now, Gordon.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Leaning down in their saddles, the men, half overcome by sleep, but +afraid of a rough waking, passed sleepless hours, looking for the dawn. + +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. + +Thus the night glided away. We had not been discovered. Over the trees +was seen the yellow streak of dawn. + +I looked round. The men’s faces were haggard from want of sleep. But +they evidently felt perfect confidence in Stuart. + +He hastened to justify it. + +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. + +Suddenly a single cannon sent its long thunder, dull and reverberating, +through the woods, from the direction of Warrenton. + +Stuart rose erect in his saddle, and looked in the direction of the +sound, his eyes glowing. + +Another followed; then another; then a long, continuous bellow of +artillery, making the hills echo. + +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. + +Stuart darted to his guns. On his countenance was a grim smile. + +“Attention!” he exclaimed. + +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. + +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. + +Stuart was out of the trap. From one of the “tightest places” that a +commander was ever in he had extricated his whole command. + +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. + +Such was that queer affair of Auburn. Few more curious incidents +occurred in the war. + +A brave officer of the infantry had accompanied us as an amateur. + +“I’ve got enough of the cavalry,” he said, laughing; “I am going back to +the infantry. It is safer!” + + + + +VIII. + + +GENERAL MEADE’S “EYE-TEETH.” + + +Stuart came back laughing from his adventure. + +The army hailed his reappearance with joy and cheers. + +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. + +“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. + +General Lee continued to press forward, but the golden moment for +intercepting Meade had fled. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:-- + +“Say no more, general--have these poor dead soldiers buried.” + +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. + +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:-- + +“It was like pulling out my eye-teeth not to have had a fight!” + +Did he say that? Then he was out-generalled. + +But he had succeeded in retreating safely. He was behind the works of +Centreville: Lee had stopped the pursuit. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +They were commanded by the ardent General Kilpatrick:--what followed is +known as the “Buckland Races.” + + + + +IX. + + +WHAT THE AUTHOR HAS OMITTED. + + +Such is a rapid summary of the cavalry operations succeeding the action +of Bristoe. + +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. + +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:-- + + “Rest in peace! rest in peace! + Slumb’ring lady love of mine; + Rest in peace! rest in peace! + Sleep on!” + +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.” + +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. + +There was the splendid advance on the day succeeding, through the rich +autumn forest, of all the colors of the rainbow. + +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!” + +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. + +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! + +So I pass to some real and _bona fide_ “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. + + + + +X. + + +I FALL A VICTIM TO TOM’S ILL-LUCK. + + +Stuart had fallen back, and had reached the vicinity of Buckland. + +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. + +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. + +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, + + “Oh look at the riggings + On Billy Barlo--o--o--ow!” + +the sternest faces relaxed, the sourest personages could not but laugh. + +Brave and honest fop! Where are you to-day, _mon garçon_! I wish I could +see you and hear you sing again! + +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. + +“By George! there’s the house, old fellow!” + +“The house?” + +“Of the famous supper.” + +“So it is!” + +“And my inamorata, Surry! I wonder if she is still there?” + +“Inamorata? What is her other name?” + +Tom laughed, and began to sing in his gayest voice, + + “Oh, Katy! Katy! + Don’t marry any other; + You’ll break my heart, and kill me dead, + And then be hanged for murder!” + +“That is answer enough,” I said, laughing. + +“Suppose we go and see if they are still alive,” Tom said, blushing; +“ten minutes will take us to the house.” + +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. + +“It is risky,” I said, hesitating. + +“But pleasing,” retorted Tom, with a laugh. + +And I saw, from his flushed face, that he had set his heart on the +visit. + +That conquered me. I never could refuse Tom Herbert any thing; and we +were soon cantering toward the house. + +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. + +As we reached the door, it opened, and Miss Katy Dare, the heroine of +Tom’s dreams, very nearly precipitated herself into our arms. + +“Oh, I am so glad to see you!” she exclaimed, with her auburn ringlets +dancing, her eyes sparkling,--and taking care to look at _me_ as she +uttered the words. + +Then a whole bevy of young ladies hastened out to welcome us. + +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!!! + +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. + +Around _me_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +Tom was blushing, but laughing too. He was game, if he _was_ +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. + +The fates frowned on us. Tom was unlucky that day, and I was drawn into +the vortex of bad fortune. + +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. + + + + +XI. + + +I OVERHEAR A SINGULAR CONVERSATION. + + +I recognized the new-comers at a glance. They were Darke, and the gray +woman. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He bowed again as he spoke, and was silent. + +The young ladies had listened coldly. As he finished, they pointed to +the waiter, and without speaking, they left the apartment. + +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. + +Then she rose, and went and took her seat in a rocking-chair near the +fire. Darke remained erect, gazing at her, in silence. + +The lady rocked to and fro, pushed back her dark hair with the snowy +hand, and looking at her companion, began to laugh. + +“You are not hungry?” she said. + +“No,” was his reply. + +“And to think that a romantic young creature like myself _should_ be!” + +“It was natural. I hoped that you would have given up this fancy of +accompanying me. You can not stand the fatigue.” + +“I can stand it easily,” she said. “When we have a cherished object, +weariness does not count.” + +“A cherished object! What is yours?” + +“Sit down, and I will tell you. I am tired. You can rejoin the column in +ten minutes.” + +“So be it,” said Darke, gloomily. + +And he sat down near her. + +“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 _him_ fall.” + +“Humph!” ejaculated Darke, coldly; “you mean--” + +“That man--yes. You promised to kill him, when you next met. Did you not +promise me that?” + +Darke looked at the speaker with grim admiration. + +“You are a singular woman,” he said; “you never forget a wrong. And yet +the wrong, people might say, was committed by _you_--not _him_.” + +“Do _you_ say that?” exclaimed the woman with sudden venom in her voice. + +“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!” + +And Darke uttered a short jarring laugh. + +“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!” + +“I will try to do so, madam,” said Darke, coolly. + +“And I wish to be present on the occasion.” + +Darke laughed as before. + +“That doubtless has prevented you from having our good friend +Mohun--well--assassinated!” + +The woman was silent for a moment. Then she said:--- + +“No, I have tried that.” + +“Ah!--recently?” + +“Yes.” + +“By what means--who was your agent?” + +“Swartz.” + +Darke waited, listening. + +“He has three times waylaid _him_ behind the rebel lines, and fired on +him as he was riding at night through the woods,” added the woman. + +“Bah!” said Darke; “Swartz told you that?” + +“He has done so.” + +“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.” + +A mocking smile came to the woman’s lips. + +“You seem to dislike the idea of--assassination,” she said. + +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. + +“Cursed stuff!” he suddenly exclaimed, setting the glass down violently. +“I want drink--real drink--to-day!” + +The woman looked at him curiously, and said quietly:-- + +“What is the matter?” + +Her companion’s brows were knit until the shaggy masses united over the +gloomy eyes. Beneath burned a lurid fire. + +“I have seen _him_ again--General Davenant,” he said, in a low voice; +“it is the second time.” + +As he uttered these words, Darke seemed the prey of some singular +emotion. + +“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.” + +The speaker’s face had flushed. His breast rose and fell. + +“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.” + +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. + +All at once a ringing laugh disturbed the silence. There was a mocking +intonation in it which was unmistakable. + +“General Davenant!” exclaimed the woman. “Well, who is General +Davenant?” + +Darke looked at the mocking speaker sidewise. + +“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!” + +The woman looked at him and then began to laugh. + +“You do unbend your noble strength, my lord!” she said, “to think +so brainsickly of things!” throwing into the word, “brainsickly,” + exaggerated stage-rant. + +“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.” + +Darke made no reply for some moments. He was gazing with knit brows upon +the floor. Then he raised his head. + +“You return to the subject of your friend,” he said, coldly. + +“Yes. The subject is agreeable.” + +“Well, I can give you intelligence of him--unless Swartz has anticipated +me.” + +“What intelligence?” + +“Your friend Mohun is in love--again!” + +The woman’s face flushed suddenly. + +“With whom?” she said. + +“Ah! there is the curious part of the affair, madam!” returned Darke. + +And in a low tone he added:-- + +“The name of the young lady is--Georgia Conway.” + +The woman half rose from her chair, with flashing eyes, and said:-- + +“Who told you that?” + +Darke smiled. There was something lugubrious in that chilly mirth. + +“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 _she_ 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?” + +And Darke uttered a singular laugh. As for the woman she had grown so +pale, I thought she would faint. + +“Do you understand, madam?” continued Darke. “Colonel Mohun is in love +_again_; and the name of his friend is--Georgia Conway!” + +The woman was silent; but I saw that she was gnawing her nails. + +“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!” + +And the speaker clutched the arm of a chair so violently that the wood +cracked in his powerful grasp. + +“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!” + +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. + +“There is a better thing than despair!” she said. + +“What?” + +“Vengeance!” + +And grasping his arm almost violently:-- + +“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!” + +As she uttered these words a cannon shot thundered across the woods. + +“Listen!” the woman exclaimed. + +Darke rose suddenly to his feet. + +“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!” + +Suddenly a second gun roared from beyond Buckland. + +“We will talk of that afterward,” said the woman, with flushed cheeks; +“think of one thing only now--that _he_ is yonder.” + +“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!” + +“What am I!” + +“All I have left!” he said. + +And with a gloomy look he rushed from the house, followed by the gray +woman. + + + + +XII. + + +THE BUCKLAND RACES. + + +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. + +At their head I saw Darke’s burly figure. The woman, escorted by an +orderly, rode toward the rear. + +In a few minutes the company of cavalry had entered a belt of woods and +disappeared. + +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. + +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. + +I hesitated not many seconds. Something was evidently going on, and our +present whereabouts dangerous. + +With a hasty salute to the young ladies who had hurried in, I made a +sign to Tom, and ran to my horse. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, +_sauve qui pent_ would, probably, be the order of the day with him. + +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. + +That gun we had heard was the signal of Fitz Lee’s attack. Those carbine +shots came from Stuart as his men charged. + +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. + +The affair that succeeded was one of the most animated of the war. + +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. + +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. + +“Look, Surry!” exclaimed Mohun, “we are driving our friend Kilpatrick! +Stuart is down on him like a lion!” + +“You are driving a personal friend of yours, besides!” I said. “Yonder +he is--Colonel Darke!” + +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. + +“I am sorry to meet him,” he said, in a low tone. + +“Why?” + +“He would not strike me yonder, in Pennsylvania, when I was in his +power.” + +“But he has sworn to kill you to-day!” I exclaimed. “I have just heard +him swear that! Look out, Mohun! here they are!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Instead of plunging his sword into Darke’s breast, however, as he might +have done, Mohun let its point fall, and said:-- + +“Take your life! Now I am even with you, sir!” + +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. + +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. + +One of Mohun’s men leaped from horseback and tore them apart. + +“A sword! give me a sword,” exclaimed Mohun, hoarsely. + +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. + +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. + +Kilpatrick was defeated; his column in hopeless rout. + +“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 _him_.” + +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. + +Such was the dramatic termination of the last great cavalry campaign of +Stuart. + +The affair came to be known as “The Buckland Races,” and Stuart’s old +sabreurs still laugh as they recall the comedy. + + + + +XIII. + + +TWO SCENES IN DECEMBER, 1863. + + +The campaign of October, 1863, was over. Lee was behind the Rapidan. + +In December General Meade struck a blow, in turn, at his adversary. + +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. + +Let us ride thither, reader, it will not take long. + +In December, then, General Meade crossed the lower Rapidan, and advanced +to assail General Lee in his works above. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +It was a new “torch of war,” invented by General Meade. + +Such was the picturesque spectacle which rose a moment ago to my memory. + +Now for the sad scene which I witnessed, as I rode back with Stuart. + +Passing a small house, a poor woman came out, and with eyes full of +tears, exclaimed, addressing Stuart:-- + +“Oh, child! stop a minute! Are they coming back? They have took every +thing I had--they are _not_ coming back!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: Her words.] + +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!” + +“Have they treated you so badly?” he said, in his grave, kind voice. + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: Her words.] + +And she pointed to two or three little girls, with frightened faces, and +eyes wet with tears. + +Stuart seemed deeply affected. Under that stout heart, which never +shrunk, was a wealth of sweetness and kindness. + +“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.” + +The poor woman clasped her hands. + +“Oh! do you believe that, child!”[1] she said; “do you believe they’ll +never come back?” + +[Footnote 1: Her words.] + +“I hope not, at least,” Stuart replied, in a low tone. + +“She clasped her hands, and for the third time addressing him as +‘child,’ sobbed:-- + +“Oh! if they will only never come back!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XIV. + + +STUART’S WINTER QUARTERS. + + +COON HOLLOW!-- + + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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, + + “The dew is on the blossom.” + +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. + +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,” _non fractum esse fortunâ et retinere +in rebus asperis, dignitatem_--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. + +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. + +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! + + + + +XV. + + +LEE’S “RAGGED REGIMENTS.” + + +It required a stout heart to laugh and sing, _con amore_, in the last +days of that winter, and the first days of spring, 1864. + +Those very figures, “1864,” tell the story, and explain this. Do they +not, reader? + +Each year of the war has its peculiar physiognomy. + +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! + +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. + +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.” + +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!” + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +With that campaign of Bristoe, and the fiasco of Mine Run, the year of +1863 ended. + +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! + +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. + +Meanwhile, three classes of persons remained faithful to the death:--the +old men, the army, and the women. + +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. + +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! + +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? + +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. + +That ragged and famished army came of a fighting race. It was starving +and dying, but it was going to fight to the last. + +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!” + + + + +XVI. + + +HAMMER AND RAPIER. + + +I pass to the great collision of armies in the first days of May. + +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 _war_? 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? + +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? + +I omit all that, passing on to the real fighting. + +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. + +Before the curtain rises, and the cannon begin to roar, let us glance at +the relative numbers, and the programme of the Federal leader. + +Grant’s “available force present for duty, May 1, 1864,” was, according +to the report of the Federal Secretary of War, 141,166 men. + +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. + +Lee afterward received about 10,000 re-enforcements from Beauregard’s +columns. Grant received about 50,000. + +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. + +These numbers may be denied, but the proof is on record. + +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. + +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 _à l’outrance_--the hammer must beat down the rapier, or fall from +the grasp of him who wielded it. + +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 _in toto_. Let us give General Grant +his just dues, however. He was not a great commander, but he _was_ 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. + +To come back to events on the Rapidan in the month of May, 1864. + +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. + +The army of Northern Virginia is thus posted in echelon of corps, +extending from Gordonsville, by Orange, toward the fords of the Rapidan. + +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. + +For Lee is going to strike at him. The fifty thousand are going to order +the one hundred and forty thousand to halt. + +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. + +Such was the situation on the first of May. The two tigers were watching +each other--and one was about to spring. + + + + +XVII. + + +FORT DELAWARE. + + +To descend now from the heights of generalization to the plains of +incident and personal observation. + +For this volume is not a history of the war in Virginia, but the memoirs +of a staff officer belonging to Stuart’s cavalry. + +May, 1864, had come; we were soon to be in the saddle; the thundering +hammer of General Grant was about to commence its performances. + +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. + +After writing ten minutes, he now said briefly:-- + +“Surry.” + +“General,” was my as brief response.” + +“I think Mohun was a friend of yours?” + +“Yes, general, we became intimate on the march to Gettysburg.” + +“Well, I have just received his commission--” + +“You mean as--” + +“Brigadier-general. You know I long ago applied for it.” + +“I knew that--pity he has not been exchanged.” + +“A great pity,--and you miss a pleasure I promised myself I would give +you.” + +“What pleasure, general?” + +“To take Mohun his commission with your own hands.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +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. + +“Good evening, gentlemen,” said Mr. Nighthawk, smiling sweetly; “I bring +news of Colonel Mohun.” + +“And fly in like an owl, or your namesake!” laughed Stuart. + +“An owl? I am told that is the bird of wisdom, gentlemen!” + +“You hit the nail on the head, when you said ‘gentlemen!’”[1] replied +Stuart, laughing; “but how about Mohun? Is he exchanged, Nighthawk?” + +[Footnote 1: A favorite phrase of Stuart’s.] + +And Stuart wheeled round and pointed to a chair. + +Nighthawk sat down modestly. + +“Not exchanged, exactly, general; but safe!” he said. + +“He escaped?” + +“Exactly, general.” + +“And you helped him?” + +“I believe so.” + +“Good! You really are a trump, Nighthawk--and you seem to have a +peculiar fancy for Mohun.” + +“He is the best friend I have in the world, general.” + +“Well, that accounts for it. But how did he escape?” + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Exactly that, general.” + +And Nighthawk smiled sweetly. + + + + +XVIII. + + +THE UNIFORM. + + +“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.” + +“A profound maxim,” laughed Stuart; “friends are useful--that was your +principle?” + +“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 _the pen_; and this place I acquired by agreeing to pay a +heavy bonus in thirty days. + +“This was Saturday night. On Monday morning I presented myself before +the gate, and demanded admittance as the newly appointed sutler of the +pen. + +“I was admitted, and taken before the officer of the day, in his +quarters. + +“‘Who are you?’ he asked, gruffly. + +“‘The new sutler, lieutenant.’ + +“‘Where are your papers?’ + +“I had them ready, and presented them to him. He read them carefully, +looked at me superciliously, and said:-- + +“‘That is wholly informal.’ + +“I looked at him. He had a red nose. + +“‘I have some excellent French brandy, captain,’ I said, promoting him. + +“At sight of the portly flask which I drew half from my pocket and +exhibited to him, I saw his face relax. + +“‘You are a keen fellow, and know the world, I perceive,’ he said. + +“And taking the flask, he poured out nearly a glass full of the brandy, +and drank it. + +“‘Do you intend to keep that article of brandy?’ he said. + +“‘For my friends, captain,’ I replied, with a wink which he evidently +understood. + +“‘Let me see your papers again.’ + +“I unfolded them, and he glanced at them. + +“‘All right--they are in regular form. There is the key of the sutler’s +shop, on that nail. Take possession.’ + +“And my friend the captain emptied a second glass of the brandy, and +made me a sign that I could go. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: Fact.] + + + + +XIX. + + +THE NOTE. + + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘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. + +“‘For heaven’s sake, sit down, colonel,’ I exclaimed; ‘in five minutes +we will be lost!’ + +“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:--- + +“‘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. + +“‘As Colonel M. is _en route_ for Richmond _via_ Wilmington, and the +train will soon pass, he is compelled to refrain from other suggestions +which occur to him. + +“‘The commandant of the post will pardon the want of ceremony of his +departure. This distressing separation is dictated by necessity.’” + +Nighthawk smiled as he repeated the words of _Mohun’s note_. + +“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.’ + +“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. + +“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 _en route_ 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. + +“‘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_ was +cool, but I assure you, I never imagined a man could equal _that_. + +“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.” + + + + +XX. + + +GENERAL GRANT’S PRIVATE ORDER. + + +Stuart kicked a log, which had fallen on the hearth, back into the fire, +and said:-- + +“Well, Nighthawk, your narrative only proves one thing.” + +“What, general?” + +“That the writer who hereafter relates the true stories of this war, +will be set down as a Baron Munchausen.” + +“No doubt of that, general.” + +“This escape of Colonel Mohun, for instance, will be discredited.” + +“No matter, it took place; but I have not told you what brought me over, +general.” + +“Over?” + +“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.” + +“You bring news, then?” said Stuart, with sudden earnestness and +attention. + +“Important news, general. The Federal army is about to move.” + +“To cross?” + +“Yes.” + +“Where--when!--what force!” + +“One hundred and forty thousand of all arms. I answer the last question +first.” + +“And--” + +“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.” + +Stuart knit his brows, and buried his hand in his beard. Suddenly he +called out to the orderly:-- + +“Have two horses saddled in five minutes!” And seizing his hat, he +said:-- + +“Get ready to ride to General Lee’s head-quarters with me, Nighthawk!” + +The clerical looking emissary put on his respectable black hat. + +“You are certain of this intelligence?” Stuart said, turning with a +piercing glance to him. + +“Quite certain, general,” said Mr. Nighthawk, serenely. + +“You were in the camps?” + +“In all, I believe, and at army head-quarters.” + +“You overheard your intelligence?” + +“No, I captured it, general.” + +“How?” + +“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.” + +And Nighthawk drew forth a paper. + +“What is it?” exclaimed Stuart. + +“Grant’s confidential order to his corps commanders, general, directing +the movements of his army.” + +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. + + + + +XXI. + + +“VIRGINIA EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY!” + + +Soon after daylight, on the next morning, Stuart was up, and writing +busily at his desk. + +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.” + +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. + +“Well, Surry, old fellow, we are going to get into the saddle. Look out +for your head!” + +“Excellent advice,” I replied. “I recommend you to follow it.” + +“You think I expose myself, do you?” + +“In the most reckless manner.” + +“For instance--come, an instance!” he laughed. + +I saw Stuart was talking to rest himself. + +“Well, at Mine Run, when you rode up to that fence lined with +sharpshooters--and they fired on us at ten paces, nearly.” + +“In fact, you might have shot a marble at them--but I am not afraid of +any ball _aimed_ at me.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +“Then you believe in _chance_, general?” + +“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?” + +“You are right, general, and I have always been convinced of your +religious faith.” + +“I believe in God and our Saviour, with all my heart,” said Stuart, +solemnly. “I may not show it, but I feel deeply.” + +“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 +_preacher_? 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.” + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +Stuart shook his head, smiling with a sadness on his lips which I had +never seen before. + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +[Footnote 2: His words.] + +[Footnote 3: His words.] + +[Footnote 4: His words.] + +[Footnote 5: His words.] + +Stuart paused, and leaned his arm upon the rude shelf above the +fireplace, passing his hand over his forehead, as was habitual with him. + +“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!” + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +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. + +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:-- + +“Virginia expects every man to do his duty!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + + + + +XXII. + + +WHAT OCCURRED AT WARRENTON. + + +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. + +I have described in my former _Memoirs_ 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. + +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! + +Two roads stretch from Orange Court-House to Chancellorsville--the old +turnpike, and the plank road--running through Verdiersville. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +“I congratulate you, Mohun.” + +“I hope to do good work with them, my dear Surry--and I think they are +just in time.” + +With which words Mohun put the paper in his pocket. + +“You know the latest intelligence?” he said. + +“Yes; but do not let us talk of it. Tell me something about +yourself--but first listen to a little narrative from me.” + +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. + +Mohun knit his brows; then burst into a laugh. + +“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!” + +“Nothing more nor less,” I said; “the whole thing is like a romance.” + +“Is it not?” + +“A perfect labyrinth.” + +“The very word!” + +“And I have not a trace of a key.” + +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. + +Then he suddenly looked up. + +“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 _not_ understand +the allusions made to General Davenant. I am _not_ 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.” + +“She seems to be a perfect viper.” + +“Is she not? You would say so, more than ever, if I told you what took +place at Warrenton.” + +And again Mohun’s brows were knit together. Then his bitter expression +changed to laughter. + +“What took place at Warrenton!” I said, looking at him intently. + +“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.” + +Mohun uttered these words with his old reckless satire. A sort of grim +and biting humor was plain in his accents. + +“A poniard--a tragedy--tell me about it, Mohun,” I said. + +He hesitated a moment. “Well, I will do so,” he said, at length. “It +will amuse you, my guest, while dinner is getting ready.” + +“I am listening.” + +“Well, to go back. You remember my fight with Colonel Darke near +Buckland?” + +“Certainly; and I was sure that you had killed each other.” + +“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. + +“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. + +“I used to lie awake a great deal, and one gloomy night I saw, or +dreamed I saw, as I then supposed, _that woman_ 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:-- + +“‘Will he live?’ + +“‘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.’ + +“‘Will this one?’ + +“‘I cannot tell you, madam, his constitution seems powerful.’ + +“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:-- + +“‘Yes, I am sure he will live. You can give yourself no further anxiety +about your cousin, madam.’ + +“_Her cousin_! 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? + +“‘_You can give yourself no further uneasiness about your cousin, +madam_!’ + +“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 _dreamed her_! Closing my eyes to shut out the vision, +I kept them thus shut for some moments. When I reopened them she was +gone. + +“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!’ + +“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. + +“In three quick steps _it_ was beside me. I say _it_, for the figure +resembled that of a ghost, or some horrible _thing_. From the eyes two +flames seemed to dart, the lips opened, and I heard, in a low mutter:-- + +“‘Ah! he is going to recover, then!’ + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘Murderess!’ I exclaimed, extending my arms to arrest her flight. + +“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. + +“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. + +“When I told him what had taken place, he laughed. + +“‘Well, colonel, go back to bed,’ he said, ‘such dreams retard your +recovery more than every thing else.’ + +“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. + +“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. + +“So you see it was madam, and not her ghost, who had done me the honor +of a visit, Surry.” + + + + +XXIII. + + +THE GRAVE OF ACHMED. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.’ + +“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.” + +“Ah! you know the country, then?” said Mohun. + +“Perfectly well.” + +“What are you looking at?” + +“That hill yonder, shut in by a thicket. There is a house there.” + +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. + +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. + +I dismounted, threw my bridle over a stunted shrub, and approached the +house. Suddenly I stopped. + +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. + +In a moment we had exchanged a pressure of the hand; and then turning to +the grave:-- + +“That is the last resting-place of poor Achmed,” he said; adding, in his +deep, grave voice:-- + +“You know how he loved me, Surry.” + +“And how you loved _him_, Mordaunt. I can understand your presence at +his grave, my dear friend.” + +Mordaunt sighed, then saluted Mohun, who approached. + +“This spot,” he said, “is well known to Colonel Surry and myself, +Mohun.” + +Then turning to me, he added:-- + +“I found a melancholy spectacle awaiting me here.” + +“Other than Achmed’s grave?” + +“Yes; come, and I will show you.” + +And he led the way into the house. As I entered the squalid and +miserable mansion, the sight which greeted me made me recoil. + +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. + +“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. + +“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!” + +As Mordaunt turned away, I saw him look at the floor. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“There is but one other actor in that drama of whom I know nothing, +Mordaunt!” + +“You mean--” + +“Violet Grafton.” + +Mordaunt raised his head quickly. His eyes glowed with a serene +sweetness. + +“She is my wife,” he said; “the joy and sunlight of my life! I no longer +read _Les Misérables_, 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!” + +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. + +Five minutes afterward he had mounted, and with a salute, the tall form +disappeared in the forest. + +We set out in turn, and were soon at Mohun’s bivouac. + + + + +XXIV. + + +A NIGHT BIRD. + + +I shared Mohun’s blankets, and was waked by the sun shining in my face. + +My companion had disappeared, but I had scarcely risen when he was seen +approaching at full gallop. + +Throwing himself from his horse, he grasped my hand, his face beaming. + +“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.” + +“I congratulate you, my dear general! Make good use of them--and I think +you are going to have the opportunity at once.” + +“You are right--the enemy’s cavalry are drawn up on the north bank of +the river.” + +“Any firing in front?” + +“They are feeling at all the fords.” + +“Are you going there?” + +“At once.” + +“I will go with you.” + +And I mounted my horse which stood saddled near by. + +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 _sabreur_, the men +raised a shout. + +Mohun saluted with drawn sabre, and galloped to the front. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Yes,” I replied, “and your charge there when we captured their +artillery in August, ‘62.” + +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. + +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. + +He greeted me warmly, and then turned to General Mordaunt, and reported +the enemy attempting to cross at Ely’s. + +“I will go, then; will you ride with me, Surry? Keep a good look out +here, Mohun.” + +I accepted Mordaunt’s invitation, and in a moment we were galloping, +accompanied by Harry, toward Ely’s. + +“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.” + +“A certain Miss Fitzhugh, I will wager!” + +“There’s no such person, colonel.” + +“Ah! you are married!” + +“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 _his_ wife, and let me +go and see _mine_! We could then come back, and blaze away at each other +with some satisfaction!” + +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. + +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. + +Night came almost before I was aware of it, and found me following the +Brock road to get on the Orange plank road. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +What should greet my eyes, but the respectable figure of Mr. Nighthawk, +seated before a cheerful blaze, and calmly smoking his pipe! + + + + +XXV. + + +THE APPOINTMENT. + + +As I entered, Mr. Nighthawk rose politely, without exhibiting the least +mark of astonishment. + +“Good evening, colonel,” he said, smiling, “I am glad to see you.” + +“And I, never more surprised to see any one than you, here, Nighthawk!” + +“Why so, colonel?” + +I could not help laughing at his air of mild inquiry. + +“Did I not leave you at our head-quarters?” + +“That was two days ago, colonel.” + +“And this is your residence, perhaps?” + +“I have no residence, colonel; but am here, temporarily, on a little +matter of business.” + +“Ah! a matter of business!” + +“I think it might be called so, colonel.” + +“Which it would be indiscreet to reveal to me, however. That is a pity, +for I am terribly curious, my dear Nighthawk!” + +Nighthawk looked at me benignly, with a philanthropic smile. + +“I have not the least objection to informing you, colonel. You are a +gentleman of discretion, and have another claim on my respect.” + +“What is that?” + +“You are a friend of Colonel Mohun’s.” + +“A very warm one.” + +“Then you can command me; and I will tell you at once that I am awaiting +the advance of General Grant.” + +“Ah! Now I begin to understand.” + +“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!” + +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. + +When I had ceased laughing, I said:-- + +“I congratulate you on your histrionic abilities, Nighthawk. They +deserve to be crowned with success. But how did you discover this +house?” + +“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.” + +“What friend?” + +“His name is Swartz, colonel.” + +“Not the Federal spy?” + +“The same, colonel.” + +“Whom we saw last in the house between Carlisle and Gettysburg?” + +“I saw him the other day,” returned Mr. Nighthawk, smiling sweetly. + +“Is it possible!” + +“Near Culpeper Court-House, colonel. And, to let you into a little +secret, I expect to see him to-night.” + +I looked at the speaker with bewilderment. + +“That man will be here!” + +“If he keeps his appointment, colonel.” + +“You have an appointment?” + +“Yes, colonel.” + +“In this house?” + +“To-night.” + +“With what object, in heaven’s name!” + +Nighthawk hesitated for some moments before replying. + +“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.” + +“A certain document?” I said, looking intently at the speaker. + +“Exactly, colonel.” + +“Which Swartz has?” + +“Precisely, colonel.” + +“And which he stole from the papers of Colonel Darke on the night of +Mohun’s combat with Darke, in the house near Carlisle?” + +Mr. Nighthawk looked keenly at me, in turn. + +“Ah! you know that!” he said, quickly. + +“I saw him steal it, through the window, while the woman’s back was +turned.” + +“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 _very_ consummate rascal, knows the value of that document, and my +appointment with him to-night is with an eye to its purchase from him.” + +“Do you think he will come?” + +“I think so. He would sell his soul for gold.” + +“And that woman? he seems to be her friend.” + +“He would sell _her_ for _silver_!” + +After uttering which _bon mot_, Mr. Nighthawk smiled. + +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. + +“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.” + +“In fact, colonel, I shall probably discuss some very private matters +with my friend Swartz, so that--” + +“You prefer I should go.” + +Mr. Nighthawk smiled; he was too polite to say “yes.” + +“You are not afraid to meet your friend in this lonely place?” I said, +rising. + +“Not at all, colonel.” + +“You are armed?” + +Mr. Nighthawk opened his coat, and showed me a brace of revolvers. + +“I have these; but they are unnecessary, colonel.” + +“Unnecessary?” + +“I have an understanding with Swartz, and he with me.” + +“What is that?” + +“That we shall not employ the carnal weapon; only destroy each other by +superior generalship.” + +“You speak in enigmas, Nighthawk!” + +“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.” + +“So, if you caught him to-night, you could have him hung as a spy?” + +“Yes, colonel; but nothing would induce me to betray him.” + +“Ah!” + +“I have given him my parol, that he shall have safe conduct!” + +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. + + + + +XXVI. + + +STUART SINGS. + + +My reflections were by no means gay. The scenes at the lonely house had +not been cheerful and mirth-inspiring. + +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. + +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? + +“Decidedly, Mohun and Nighthawk are two enigmas!” I muttered, “and I +give the affair up.” + +With which words I spurred on, and soon debouched on the Orange plank +road, leading toward Mine Run. + +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:-- + + “I wake up in the morning, + I wake up in the morning, + I wake up in the morning, + Before the break o’ day!” + +There was no mistaking that gay sound. It was Stuart, riding at the head +of his staff and couriers. + +In a moment he had come up, and promptly halted me. + +“Ah! that’s you, Surry!” he exclaimed with a laugh, “wandering about +here in the Wilderness! What news?” + +I reported the state of things in front, and Stuart exclaimed:-- + +“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-- + + “Never mind the weather + But get over double trouble! + We are bound for the Happy land of Lincoln!” + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +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!” + +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!” + +Stuart cantered on: we turned into the Brock road, and I found myself +retracing my steps toward the Rapidan. + +As I passed near the lonely house, I cast a glance toward the glimmering +light. Had Nighthawk’s friend arrived? + +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. + +“What news, Mordaunt?” said Stuart, grasping his hand. + +“Some fighting this evening, but it ceased about nightfall, general.” + +Stuart looked toward the river, and listened attentively. + +“I hear nothing stirring.” + +And passing his hand through his beard he muttered half to himself:-- + +“I wonder if Grant can have made any change in his programme?” + +“The order at least was explicit--that brought by Nighthawk,” I said. + +Stuart turned toward me suddenly. + +“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.” + +I drew the general aside. + +“I can tell you where to find Nighthawk.” + +“Where.” + +“Shall I bring him?” + +“Like lightning, Surry! I wish to dispatch him at once!” + +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. + +“Your friend has not arrived?” I said. + +“He will not come till midnight, colonel.” + +“When, I am afraid, he will not see you, Nighthawk--you are wanted.” + +And I explained my errand. Nighthawk sighed--it was easy to see that he +was much disappointed. + +“Well, colonel,” he said, in a resigned tone, “I must give up my private +business--duty calls. I will be ready in a moment.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Distress him, Nighthawk?” + +“He will think some harm has happened to me.” + +And Mr. Nighthawk smiled so sadly, that I could not refrain from +laughter. + +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. + +“That will be easy, general,” said Nighthawk. + +“Can you procure a Federal uniform?” + +“I always travel with one, general.” + +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.” + +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. + +Half an hour afterward, Stuart was riding toward Germanna Ford. As we +approached, Mohun met us, and reported all quiet. + +Stuart then turned back in the direction of Chancellorsville, where +Nighthawk was to report to him, before daylight, if possible. + + + + +XXVII. + + +MOHUN RIDES. + + +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. + +Mohun raised his head quickly, listened with the closest attention, and +when I had informed him of every thing, said abruptly:-- + +“Well, I’ll keep Nighthawk’s appointment for him!” + +“You!” I said. + +“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?” + +“Yes.” + +Mohun drew out his watch; scratched a match which he drew from a small +metal case. + +“Just eleven,” he said; “there is time to arrive before midnight, if we +ride well--will you show me the way?” + +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. + +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. + +At last we turned into the Brock road, and were soon near the lonely +house. + +“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. + +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. + +“Midnight exactly!” he said; “we have made a good ride of it, Surry.” + +“Yes; and now that I have piloted you safely, Mohun, I will discreetly +retire.” + +“Why not remain, if you think it will amuse you, my dear friend?” + +“But you are going to discuss your private affairs, are you not?” + +“They are not private from you, since I have promised to relate my whole +life to you.” + +“Then I remain; but do you think our friend will keep his appointment?” + +“There he is,” said Mohun, as hoof-strokes were heard without. “He is +punctual.” + + + + +XXVIII. + + +THE SPY. + + +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. + +It was Swartz. The fat person, the small eyes, the immense double chin, +and the chubby fingers covered with pinchbeck rings, were unmistakable. + +He was clad in citizens’ clothes, and covered with dust as from a long +ride. + +Mohun rose. + +“Come in, my dear Mr. Swartz,” he said coolly; “you see we await you.” + +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. + +Mohun quietly drew his revolver, and cocked it. + +“Fear nothing, my dear sir,” he said, “and, above all, do not attempt to +escape.” + +Swartz hesitated, and cast an uneasy glance upon the weapon. + +“Does the sight of this little instrument annoy you?” said Mohun, +laughing. “It shall not be guilty of that impoliteness, Mr. Swartz.” + +And he uncocked the weapon, and replaced it in its holster. + +“Now,” he continued, “sit down, and let us talk.” + +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:-- + +“I expected to meet a friend here to-night, gentlemen, instead of--” + +“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.” + +“But meeting him would have been different, gentlemen. I had his safe +conduct!” + +“You shall have it from me.” + +“May I ask from whom?” said Swartz. + +“From General Mohun, of the Confederate army.” + +Swartz smiled this time; then making a grotesque bow, he replied:-- + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Swartz looked at the speaker intently, but without suspicion. His +glance, on the contrary, had in it something strangely open and +unreserved. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +Swartz replied without hesitation:-- + +“On the bank of Nottoway River, in Dinwiddie, Virginia, and bound for +Petersburg.” + +“The object of your journey?” + +“To sell dried fruits and winter vegetables.” + +“Then you travelled in a cart, or a wagon?” + +“In a cart, general.” + +“You reached Petersburg without meeting with any incident on the way?” + +“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.” + +“Do so, then,” said Mohun, fixing his eyes more intently upon the spy. + +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:-- + +“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.” + +The spy paused. Mohun shaded his eyes from the light, with his hands, +and said coolly:-- + +“Go on.” + +“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. + +“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. + +“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?” + +“What?” said Mohun, in the same cool voice; “tell me.” + +“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.” + +“Is it possible?” + +And Mohun uttered a laugh. + +“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.” + +“He fainted, did he? And what did you do?” said Mohun. + +“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.” + +“To get a reward from _his_ friends, too, no doubt?” + +“Well, general, we must live, you know. And did I not deserve something +for being so scared--and for the use of my mule?” + +“Certainly you did. Is not the laborer worthy of his hire? But go on, +sir--your tale is interesting.” + +“Tale, general? It is the truth--on the word of Swartz!” + +“I no longer doubt now, if I did before,” said Mohun; “but tell me the +end of your adventure.” + +“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.’ _Police_!--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, _police_! +And here I was going to have dealings with the said _police_! 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!” + +“Without leaving you their adieux?” + +“No, they were at least polite. They left me a roll of bank notes--more +than I thought they had about them.” + +“You had searched them, of course, when they were lying in your cart,” + said Mohun. + +Swartz smiled. + +“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.” + +Mohun nodded. + +“That is often done--well, that was the last of them?” + +Swartz smiled, and glanced at Mohun. + +“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.” + +“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 _the gentleman_, 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.” + +“That of spy, you mean?” said Mohun. + +Swartz smiled. + +“You speak plainly, general. We call ourselves ‘secret agents’--but +either word expresses the idea!” + + + + +XXIX. + + +THE PAPER. + + +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. + +“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.” + +“At your orders, general,” said Swartz, whose quick glance showed that +he was on his guard, and foresaw what was coming. + +Mohun leaned toward the spy. + +“Let us proceed to ‘call names,’” he said. “The man you rescued from the +grave was Colonel Darke?” + +“Exactly, general.” + +“Is that his real name, or a false one?” + +Swartz hesitated; then replied:-- + +“A false one.” + +“His real name?” + +“Mortimer.” + +“And the lady is--?” + +“His wife, general.” + +“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.” + +“You flatter my pride, general!” + +“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?” + +“I saw them frequently, general.” + +“In the army--and at their home, both?” + +“Yes, general.” + +“Where did they live?” + +“Near Carlisle, Pennsylvania.” + +“Where you were on a visit, just before the battle of Gettysburg?” + +“Yes, general.” + +“Very good!” + +And rising quickly, Mohun confronted the spy, who drew back +unconsciously. + +“Where is the paper that you stole from the woman that night?” he said. + +Swartz was unable to sustain the fiery glance directed toward him by +Mohun. + +“Then Nighthawk has told you all!” he exclaimed. + +“Colonel Surry saw you hide the paper.” + +Swartz looked suddenly toward me--his smiles had all vanished. + +“The paper! give me the paper!” exclaimed Mohun; “you shall have gold +for it!” + +“I have left it in Culpeper, general.” + +“Liar!--give me the paper!” + +Swartz started to his feet. + +Mohun caught at his throat--the spy recoiled--when suddenly a quick +firing was heard coming rapidly from the direction of Germanna Ford. + +“The enemy have crossed, Mohun!” I cried. + +Mohun started, and turned his head in the direction of the sound. + +“They are advancing!” I said, “but look out!--the spy!--” + +Mohun wheeled, drawing his pistol. + +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. + +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. + +Mohun rushed to his horse, I followed, and we were soon riding at full +speed in the direction of the firing. + +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. + +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. + +The affair was nothing. Unfortunately, however, it had enabled the +Federal spy to elude us. + +Swartz had disappeared like a bird of the night; and all pursuit of him +in such a wilderness was impossible. + +An hour afterward, I had rejoined Stuart. + + + + +XXX. + + +GRANT STRIKES HIS FIRST BLOW. + + +Such were the singular scenes which I witnessed, amid the shadows of the +Spottsylvania Wilderness, in the first days of May, 1864. + +The narrative has brought the reader now to an hour past midnight on the +third of May. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Instead of retreating, Lee advanced and delivered battle. + +The first collision took place on the 5th of May, when the Federal army +was rapidly massing in the Wilderness. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Grant had expected to find a mere rear-guard, while Lee’s main body was +retreating upon Richmond. + +He found two full corps in his front; and there was no doubt that a +third--that of Longstreet--was approaching. + +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. + + + + +XXXI. + + +THE REPORT. + + +It was twilight and the fighting was over. + +The two tigers had drawn back, and, crouching down, panted +heavily,--resting and gathering new strength for the fiercer conflict of +the next day. + +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. + +I had been sent by General Stuart with an order to General Hampton, who +commanded the cavalry on Hill’s right. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +[Footnote 1: This scene is real.] + +“Good evening, colonel,” said Nighthawk; “I am glad to see you again, +and hope you are well.” + +“So you have turned deserter, Nighthawk?” I said, laughing heartily. + +“Precisely, colonel. I could not get off before. Will you inform me +where I can find General Stuart?” + +“I will take you to him.” + +And riding back with Captain Church and Nighthawk, I soon found myself +again in presence of General Hampton. + +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. + +At sight of the blue figure he scarcely turned; then suddenly he +recognized Nighthawk, and burst into laughter. + +“Well, my blue night-bird!” he exclaimed, “here you are at last! What +news? Is Grant going to cross the river?” + +Nighthawk hung his head, and sighed audibly. + +“I could not help it, general.” + +“Why didn’t you come before?” + +“It was impossible, general.” + +Stuart shook his head. + +“Strike that word out of your dictionary, my friend.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +“That is good advice, general; but this time they nonplussed me. They +blocked every road, and I had to join their army.” + +“Well, I hope you got the $600 bounty,” said Stuart, laughing. + +“That was another impossibility, general; but I enjoyed the very best +society yonder.” + +“What society, Nighthawk?” + +“That of Grant, Meade, and Sedgwick.” + +“Ah! my old friend, General Sedgwick! But where are Grant’s +headquarters, Nighthawk? Tell me every thing!” + +“At Old Wilderness Tavern, general.” + +“And you saw him there?” + +“In the midst of his generals,--I was temporarily one of his couriers.” + +“I understand. Well, their intended movements?” + +Nighthawk shook his head. + +“I could have foretold you those of to-day, general.” + +“How?” + +“I heard General Meade dictating his order, through the window of his +head-quarters, and can repeat it _verbatim_, if you desire.” + +“By all means, Nighthawk,--it will reveal his programme. But is it +possible that you can do so?” + +“I can, general; I engraved every word on my memory.” + +And, fixing his eyes intently upon vacancy, Nighthawk commenced in a +low, monotonous voice:-- + +“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.” + +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. + +“It is really wonderful,” said Stuart, gravely. + +“You see,” said Nighthawk, returning to his original voice, so to speak, +“you see, general, this would have been of some importance yesterday.” + +“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?” + +“He was this morning, general, with Meade and Sedgwick.” + +“You were there?” + +“I was, general.” + +“What did you gather, Nighthawk?” + +“Little or nothing, general. True, I heard one or two amusing things as +I loitered among the couriers near.” + +“What?” + +“General Grant came out talking with Meade, Sedgwick, and Warren. +General Meade said, ‘_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._’”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +Stuart laughed. + +“Well, ‘these fellows’ don’t appear to be going back. What did Grant +say?” + +“He smoked, general.” + +“And did not open his lips?” + +“Only once, when General Meade said something about ‘manoeuvring.’” + +“What did he say?” + +“I can give you his words. He took his cigar from his lips--puffed out +the smoke--and replied, ‘_Oh! I never manoeuvre_!’”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +“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.” + +Stuart had ordered his horse to be saddled, and now mounted to go to +General Lee’s head-quarters. + +“By the bye,” he said, “did you hear Warren or Sedgwick say any thing, +Nighthawk?” + +Nighthawk smiled. + +“I heard Sedgwick utter a few words, general.” + +“What?” + +“He said to Warren, ‘_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_!’”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + + + + +XXXII. + + +THE UNSEEN DEATH. + + +The morning of the 6th of May was ushered in with thunder. + +The battle of the preceding day had been a sort of “feeler”--now the +real struggle came. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +War had had nothing like it. Destruction of life had become a science, +and was done by the compass. + +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. + +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. + +Lee was aiming to get around the enemy’s left, and huddle him up in the +thicket--but in this he failed. + +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. + +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. + +“To the rear!” shouted the troops, as he rode in front of them; “to the +rear!” + +And he was obliged to obey. + +He was not needed. + +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. + +At nightfall, General Lee had driven the enemy from their front line of +works--but nothing was gained. + +What _could_ be gained in that wretched country, where there was nothing +but thicket, thicket! + +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. + +There was but one thing to do--to get out of the jungle. + +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. + +The thickets of the Wilderness were again silent, and the blue and gray +objects in the undergrowth did not move. + +The war-dogs had gone to tear each other elsewhere. + + + + +XXXIII. + + +BREATHED AND HIS GUN. + + +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. + +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. + +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 _élan_, +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. + +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. + +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. + +See how memory leads me off! I am going to give ten words, first, to +that incident which made us laugh. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +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. + +Breathed seized the moment. Many of the horses had been caught and +hastily saddled. Breathed leaped upon one of them, and shouted:-- + +“Mount!” + +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. + +“Charge!” thundered Breathed. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“What’s the matter?” asked the citizen. + +“Well, we are retreating.” + +“Who is after you?” + +“Nobody but old Jim Breathed and his men, armed with fence-rails.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +Such was one of a dozen incidents in Breathed’s life. Let me come to +that which took place near Spottsylvania Court-House. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Give them a round of canister, Breathed!” exclaimed General Fitz Lee. + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +Breathed looked decidedly unwilling. + +“A few more rounds, general!” + +And turning to the men, he shouted:-- + +“Give them canister!” + +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. + +“Look out for the guns, Breathed! Take them off!” exclaimed the general. + +Breathed turned toward one of the pieces, and ordered:-- + +“Limber to the rear!” + +The order was quickly obeyed. + +“Forward!” + +The piece went off at a thundering gallop, pursued by bullets. + +“Only a few more rounds, general!” pleaded Breathed; “I won’t lose the +guns!” + +“All right!” + +As he spoke, the enemy rushed upon the single gun. + +Breathed replied by hurling canister in their faces. He sat his horse, +unflinching. Never had I seen a more superb soldier. + +The enemy were nearly at the muzzle of the piece. + +“Surrender!” they were heard shouting; “surrender the gun!” Breathed’s +response was a roar, which hurled back the front rank. + +Then, his form towering amid the smoke, his eyes flashing, his drawn +sabre whirled above his head, Breathed shouted,-- + +“Limber up!” + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +As he did so, the horse upon which he was mounted fell, pierced by a +bullet through the body. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Such was the manner in which Breathed fought his artillery, and the +narrative is the barest and most simple statement of fact. + +Breathed came out of the war a lieutenant-colonel only. Napoleon would +have made him a marshal. + + + + +XXXIV. + + +MY LAST RIDE WITH STUART. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Such was the situation of affairs on the 9th of May, 1864. + +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. + +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. + +His spirits at this time were excellent, but it was easy to see that he +realized the immense importance of checking the enemy. + +An officer said in his presence:-- + +“We won’t be able to stop Sheridan.” + +Stuart turned at those words; his cheeks flushed; his eyes flamed, and +he said:-- + +“No, sir! I’d rather die than let him go on!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words] + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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! + +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!” + +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! + +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? + +Answer, mountains where he fought--lowlands, where he fell--river, +murmuring a dirge, as you foam through the rocks yonder, past his grave! + + + + +XXXV. + + +“SOON WITH ANGELS I’LL BE MARCHING.” + + +Let me rapidly pass over the events of the tenth of May. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At this moment Stuart returned, and pushed forward toward Taylorsville, +from which point he intended to hasten on and get in their front. + +About four in the afternoon we reached Fork church, and the command +halted to rest. + +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. + +The column again moved, and that night camped near Taylorsville, +awaiting the work of the morrow. + +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. + +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. + +Stuart was riding at the head of his column, looking straight forward, +and with no thought, apparently, save that of arriving in time. + +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. + +“My men and horses are tired, jaded, and hungry, but all right,” he had +written to General Bragg, from Ashland. + +And these words will serve in large measure to describe the condition of +the great commander himself. + +I was riding beside him, when he turned to me and said, in a low tone:-- + +“Do you remember a conversation which we had at Orange, Surry, that +night in my tent?” + +“Yes, general.” + +“And what I said?” + +“Every word is engraved, I think, upon my memory.” + +“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!’” + +“I will never forget that, general.” + +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-- + + “Soon with angels I’ll be marching!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: Real] + +I know not why, but that low sound made me shiver. + + + + +XXXVI. + + +YELLOW TAVERN, MAY 11, 1864. + + +Yellow Tavern! At the mention of that name, a sort of tremor agitates me +even to-day, when nearly four years have passed. + +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. + +But I pass to my brief description of the place, and the event which +made it one of the black names in Southern history. + +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. + +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! + +For the military reader, however, a few words in reference to the +topographical features of the locality are necessary. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +On a hill, near Lomax’s right, was Breathed with his guns. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was the morning of May 11th, 1864. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _beau ideal_ 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. + +[Footnote 1: Breathed.] + +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. + +Stuart rose in his stirrups and gazed coolly at the heavy line advancing +upon him, and forcing Pate’s handful back. + +“Take back the guns!” he said. + +They were limbered up, and went off rapidly. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“They are pressing you back, colonel!” exclaimed Stuart. + +“Yes, general, I have but three skeleton squadrons! and you see their +force.” + +“You are right. You have done all that any man could. Can you hold this +cut?” + +“I will try, general.” + +Their glances crossed. Never was Stuart’s face kinder. + +“If you say you will, you will do it! Hold this position to the last, +colonel.” + +“I’ll hold it until I die, general.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +With a pressure of the hand they parted. + +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. + +Stuart witnessed all, and his eye grew fiery. + +“Pate has died the death of a hero!”[1] he exclaimed. + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +“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. + +He then fell back, and each side remained motionless, awaiting the +movement of the other. + +Such was the preface to the real battle of Yellow Tavern,--the species +of demonstration which preluded the furious grapple. + +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. + +At the same moment a courier galloped up. + +“What news?” + +“A dispatch from Gordon, general.” + +Stuart took it and read it with high good humor. + +“Gordon has had a handsome little affair this morning,” he said; “he has +whipped them.” + +And looking toward the northwest-- + +“I wish Gordon was here,”[1] he said. + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +The guns continued to roar, and the enemy had not again advanced. It was +nearly four o’clock. Night approached. + +But the great blow was coming. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The men rallied, the enemy were met again, sabre to sabre, and the field +became a scene of the most desperate conflict. + +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. + +“Breathed!” he exclaimed. + +“General!” + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +Breathed darted to the head of the men and shouted:-- + +“Follow me!” + +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. + +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. + +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] + +[Footnote: This incident, like all here related as attending this +battle, is rigidly true.] + +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. + +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. + +Then he wheeled to take command of a column of Lomax’s men, coming to +meet the charge. + +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:-- + +“For God’s sake, boys, let’s go back! They’ve got Breathed! Let’s go +back to him!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: Their words.] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Go back,” he exclaimed, “and do your duty, as I have done mine! And our +country will be safe!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +A moment afterward he called out again to the men passing him:-- + +“Go back! go back! I’d rather die than be whipped!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +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. + +Suddenly, Fitzhugh Lee, who had been stubbornly fighting on the right, +galloped up, and accosted Stuart. His face was flushed, his eyes moist. + +“You are wounded!” he exclaimed. + +“Badly,” Stuart replied, “but look out, Fitz! Yonder they come!” + +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. + +Stuart’s eye flashed for the last time. Turning to General Fitzhugh Lee, +he exclaimed in a full, sonorous voice:-- + +“Go ahead, Fitz, old fellow! I know you will do what is right!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +His hard fighting had saved the city. When Sheridan attacked, he was +repulsed. + +But the capital was dearly purchased. Twenty-four hours afterward Stuart +was dead. + +[Illustration: DEATH OF STUART] + +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. + +He asked repeatedly that his favorite hymns should be sung for him; and +when President Davis visited him, and asked:-- + +“General, how do you feel?” + +“Easy, but willing to die,” he said, “if God and my country think I have +fulfilled my destiny, and done my duty.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +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:-- + +“I am resigned, if it be God’s will. I should like to see my wife, but +God’s will be done.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +When the proposed attack upon Sheridan, near Mechanicsville, was spoken +of in his presence, he said:-- + +“God grant that it may be successful. I wish I could be there.” * + +Turning his face toward the pillow, he added, with tears in his eyes, +“but I must prepare for another world.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +Feeling now that his end was near, he made his last dispositions. + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +He gave then the name of the lady, and added:-- + +“My spurs--those always worn in battle--I promised to give to Mrs. Lily +Lee, at Shepherdstown. My sabre I leave to my son.” + +His horses and equipments were then given to his staff--his papers +directed to be sent to his wife. + +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:-- + +“I am going fast now--I am resigned. God’s will be done!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +As the words escaped from his lips, he expired. + + + + +BOOK III. + + + + +BEHIND THE SCENES. + + + + +I. + + +WHAT I DID NOT SEE. + + +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. + +In my delirium I heard a mournful tolling of bells. It was many days, +however, before I knew that they were tolling for Stuart. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was late in the month of August before I rose from my bed again, and +set out on my return. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Then commenced the second great “movement by the left flank” toward +Richmond. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +On the next day I filed my application in the war office, to be assigned +to duty. + +A week afterward I had not heard from it. + +Messieurs, the red tapists, were evidently not in the least bit of a +hurry--and hat in hand I awaited their good pleasure. + + + + +II. + + +THE “DOOMED CITY.” + + +Richmond presented a singular spectacle in that summer of 1864. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +III. + + +I DINE WITH MR. BLOCQUE. + + +He was a prominent personage at that time--my friend (in a parliamentary +sense at least) Mr. Blocque. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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? + +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. + +“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!” + +And Mr. Torpedo sucks at his cigar, as though he were a vampire, +extracting the blood of his victim. + +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. + +“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--” + +“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?” + +“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!” + +“Upon what do you ground that extraordinary assumption, may I ask, sir?” + +“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.” + +The mustached warrior looks ferocious--his eyes dart flame. + +“And who causes the high prices, sir? Who makes the money a rag? I +answer--the forestallers and engrossers--do you know any, sir?” + +“I do not, sir!” + +“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. + +I was laughing to myself quietly, and listening for the expected +outbreak, when Mr. Blocque interposed with his winning voice. + +“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!” + +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. + +“So late?” said Colonel Desperade. “I have an appointment at the war +office!” + +Mr. Blocque drew out a magnificent gold watch. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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! + +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. + +As I do not play, I rose and took my leave. Mr. Blocque accompanied me +to the door, smiling sweetly to the last. + +“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!” + +I thanked my host, shook hands, and went out into the +darkness,--determined never to return. + +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. + +“Eight o’clock! All is well!” came from the sentinel, as I passed by the +capitol. + + + + +IV. + + +JOHN M. DANIEL. + + +On the day after this scene, a trifling matter of business led me to +call on John M. Daniel, editor of the _Examiner_. + +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 +_Examiner_. 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. + +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 _Examiner_ 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 _solitaire_, voluntarily +absenting himself from society, to give his days and nights to +exhausting study. + +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. + +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?” + +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. + +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 _Examiner_ 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 _Examiner_, 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 _Examiner_ without stint, but they subscribed to it, and +read it every morning. “Have you seen the _Examiner_ 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 +_Examiner_ in those days was to miss a part of the history of the times. +The whole political world felt the presence of a _power_ 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. + +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 _Examiner_, 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. + +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 _chef de cuisine_; +and drew a salary which enabled him to return, some years afterward, to +the United States with savings amounting to $30,000. + +It was a contrast to his past. The sallow youth was _M. le ministre_! +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 +_Examiner_ had done all that for him! + +When war became imminent, he returned to Virginia, and resumed control +of the _Examiner_. 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. + +As soon as he grasped the helm of the _Examiner_ 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 _Examiner_, 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. + +The _Examiner_, 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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +V. + + +THE EDITOR IN HIS SANCTUM. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Examiner_. + +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. + +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 _piquant_--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 _he_ had written it),” + I yielded, surrendered my hat, lit the cigar offered me, and we went on +talking. + +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 _en bon Juif_, he is ready to die.” + +A grim smile came to the face of the journalist, as he showed me the +passage. + +“That suits Mr. Davis exactly,” he said. “He forgives his enemies _en +bon Juif_! I believe I will make an editorial, and quote the passage on +him--but he wouldn’t understand it!” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +Smiling slightly as he spoke, he showed me his right hand, the fingers +of which he could scarcely bend. + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +[Footnote 2: His words.] + +“Possibly,” I replied; “but the position of an editor is a powerful +one.” + +“Do you think so?” + +“Don’t you?” + +“Yes, colonel; but what good is the _Examiner_ doing? What can all the +papers in the Confederacy effect? Besides, I like to command men. I love +power.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +I laughed. + +“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,--” + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +[Footnote 2: His words.] + +“Do you believe in that dictum?” I said. + +“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.” + +“You do not really believe, surely, that you have such foes?” + +“Not believe it? I know it. _You_ 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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +“But their enmity comes to nothing.” + +“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 _wishing it?_ I should +drop down dead before your eyes--and you would fall a corpse in Main +Street before you reached your home!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +“A gloomy view enough, but I dare not deny it.” + +“It would be useless, colonel. That is the way men are made. For myself, +I distrust all of them--or nearly all.” + +He uttered the words with intense bitterness, and for a moment remained +silent. + +“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.” + +“You find the _Examiner_ a heavy weight upon you?” + +“It is a mill-stone around my neck.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +“Why not throw it off, if you find it onerous?” + +“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.” + +“You are proud of it.” + +“It has made me, and it will do more for me hereafter than it has ever +done yet.” + +He paused, and then went on, with a glow in his swarthy face: + +“Every man has his cherished object in this world, colonel. Mine is the +success and glory of the _Examiner_. I intend to make of it what the +London _Times_ 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 _ça ira_ now! From the +_Examiner_ I expect to realize the great dream of my life.” + +“The dream of your life? What is that?--if I may ask without intrusion.” + +“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 _roturiers_ 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?” + +“Yes,” I said. + +“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.” + +“I agree with you, the object _is_ noble.” + +“I am glad you think so, colonel. I see I speak to one who has the old +Virginia feeling. You respect family.” + +“Who does not? There are those who profess to care naught for it, but it +is because they are new-comers.” + +“Yes,” was the journalist’s reply, “mushrooms--and very dirty ones!” + +I laughed at the speaker’s grimace. + +“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.” + +“You are mistaken. They will hate you for it.” + +“You are right--but I interrupted you.” + +“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.” + +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. + +He twirled a paper-cutter in his fingers, reflected a moment, and +said:-- + +“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 _Examiner_ +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] + +[Footnote 1: This paragraph is in Mr. J.M. Daniel’s words.] + +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. + +“Your scheme is one,” I said, “which takes my fancy greatly. But why do +you intend to wall in your property?” + +“To keep out those wolves called men.” + +“Ah! I forgot. You do not like those bipeds without feathers.” + +“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!” + +I laughed. There was something _piquant_ in the grim humor of this +singular personage. + +“What is your ideal man?” I said, “for, doubtless, you have such an +ideal?” + +“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 _put on_ 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] + +[Footnote 1: This paragraph is in Mr. J.M. Daniel’s words.] + +“You would admit your men of bronze, then, into the walled-up domain in +Stafford?” + +“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!” + +And smiling, the journalist said:-- + +“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?” + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +[Footnote 2: His words.] + +“A queer set,” I said. + +And I gave him an account of my dinner at Mr. Blocque’s. + +“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 _à la Victor +Hugo_. You have read _Les Misérables_ yonder? It is a trashy affair.” + +And taking up the elegantly bound volume, which must have cost him a +considerable sum, he quietly pitched it out of the window. + +As he did so, the printer’s devil appeared at the door, holding proof in +his hand. + +“You see I am never safe from intrusion, colonel. This _Examiner_ +newspaper keeps me at the oar.” + +I rose and put on my hat. + +“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.” + +“Do not use his name.” + +“Be tranquil. He will be the type only.” + +And, escorting me to the door, Mr. Daniel bestowed a courteous bow upon +me, which I returned. Then the door closed. + + + + +VI. + + +AN EDITORIAL IN THE EXAMINER. + + +On the following morning I opened the _Examiner_, and the first article +which I saw was the following one, on + + 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, _Les + Fortunés_, 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 _Les + Fortunés_ and _Les Misérables_; 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 _gamin_ in _Marius_, 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 _you_?’ + + “This little creature--this _Trochilus obsidionalis_--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.” + +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.” + +Grim satirist! You saw far, and I think we want you to-day! + + + + +VII. + + +UNDER THE CROSSED SWORDS. + + +I had dined with Mr. Blocque; two days afterward I went to sup with +Judge Conway. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +“And yet not to satirize is so hard, my dear sir!” + +“Very hard.” + +“Think of the army depleted--the soldiers starving--the finances in +ruin, and entire destruction threatening us!” + +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. + +“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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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! + +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. + +In ten minutes we were all talking like old friends, and the young +ladies were making tea. + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +“I heard something of this from old Juba,” said the Judge; “you do not +mention your deliverer, however.” + +“Our deliverer, papa?” + +“General Mohun.” + +Miss Georgia unmistakably blushed in her turn. + +“Oh, I forgot!” she said, carelessly, “General Mohun _did_ drive them +off. Did I not mention it?--I should have done so before finishing, +papa.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At the fine house of the blockade-runner--champagne, rich viands, +wax-lights, gold and silver, and profuse luxury. + +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! + + + + +VIII. + + +MR. X-----. + + +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. + +The name of this gentleman was Mr. X-----. + +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.” + +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. + +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-----. + +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.” + +Mr. X----- received me with easy cordiality. + +“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. + +“The news!” I said, laughing; “I ought to ask that of you.” + +“Ah! you think I am well-informed?” + +I pointed to the dispatches. Mr. X----- shrugged his shoulders. + +“Papers from England and France--they are not going to recognize us. + +“And those telegrams--nothing. We get little that is worth attention, +except a line now and then, signed ‘R.E. Lee.’” + +“Well, there is that signature,” I said, pointing to an open paper. + +“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.” + +And he handed me a paper. + +It was a telegram announcing the fall of Atlanta! + +“Good heavens!” I said, “is it possible? Then there is nothing to stop +Sherman.” + +“Nothing whatever,” said Mr. X-----, coolly. + +“What will be the consequence?” + +“The Confederacy will be cut in two. Sherman will be at Savannah before +Grant reaches the Southside road--or as soon, at least.” + +“You think Grant will reach that?” + +“Yes, by April; and then--you know what!” + +“But Lee will protect it.” + +Mr. X----- shrugged his shoulders. + +“Shall I tell you a secret?” + +I listened. + +“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.” + +“Why can not our army be re-enforced?” + +Mr. X----- helped himself to a fresh cigar. + +“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.” + +Mr. X----- smoked his cigar with extreme calmness as he spoke. + +“But one thing remains,” I said. + +“What is that?” + +“Lee will retreat from Virginia.” + +Mr. X----- shook his head. + +“He will not.” + +“Why not?” + +“He will be prevented from doing so.” + +“Under any circumstances?” + +“Until too late, at least.” + +“And the result?” + +“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.’” + +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. + +“You draw a black picture of the future,” I said. “And the South seems +moving to and fro, on the crust of a volcano.” + +“No metaphor could be more just.” + +“And what will be the result of the war?” + +“That is easy to reply to. Political slavery, negro suffrage, and the +bayonet, until the new leaven works.” + +“The new leaven?” + +“The conviction that democratic government is a failure.” + +“And then--?” + +“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.” + +Mr. X----- lit a fresh cigar. + +“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.” + +And Mr. X----- turned his head, calling out, calmly, + +“Come in!” + +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. + +“Come in,” repeated Mr. X-----, who seemed to recognize the intruder; +“what news?” + +The personage glanced quickly at me. + +“Speak before him,” said Mr. X-----, “he is a friend.” + +“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.” + +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! + + + + +IX. + + +“SEND ME A COPY.--IN CANADA!” + + +Nothing was more surprising in this singular man than these sudden +appearances at places and times when you least expected him. + +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-----! + +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.” + +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. + +Mr. X----- listened with close attention, asking few questions. + +When Nighthawk had made his report, the statesman looked at his watch, +said, _sotto voce_, “Midnight--too late,” and added aloud:-- + +“Come back at ten to-morrow morning, my friend; your information is +highly interesting and important.” + +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:-- + +“I need not say, my dear colonel, that the views I have expressed this +evening are confidential--for the present, at least.” + +“Assuredly,” I replied, with a bow and a smile. + +“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!” + +A moment afterward I was wending my way through the shrubbery, thinking +of the curious personage I had left. + +At the gate Nighthawk awaited me, and I scarcely recognized him. He had +resumed his red beard, and green glasses. + +“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.” + +“You wished to see me particularly, then, Nighthawk.” + +“Yes, and to-night, colonel.” + +“Ah!” + +“I know you are a friend of General Mohun’s.” + +“A very sincere friend.” + +“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?” + + + + +X. + + +THE WAY THE MONEY WENT. + + +I looked intently at Nighthawk. He was evidently very much in earnest. + +“I am entirely disengaged, and perfectly willing to accompany you,” I +said; “but where?” + +Nighthawk smiled. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“I thank you, colonel, from my heart. You have only to follow me.” + +And Nighthawk set out at a rapid pace, through the grounds of the +capitol, toward the lower part of the city. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Upon these Nighthawk threw a rapid glance--some one whom he appeared to +be seeking, was evidently not among the players. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +After that evening I knew where some of the public money went. + +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. + +“With pleasure, my dear friend,” said the portly gentleman, “but you are +sure you are not provided with a detective of General Winder’s?” + +“Can you believe such a thing?” returned Nighthawk, reproachfully. + +“I thought it possible you might have one waiting below; but if you give +me your word, Nighthawk--” + +And without further objection the worthy followed Nighthawk and myself +down the stairs. + +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:-- + +“I believe we have had the pleasure of meeting before, colonel.” + +“I am ashamed to say I do not remember where, sir,” I said. + +“My memory is better, colonel; we met last May, in a house in the +Wilderness, near Chancellorsville.” + +“Is it possible that you are--” + +“Swartz, very much at your service. It is wonderful what a difference is +made by a wig and spectacles!” + +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. + + + + +XI. + + +THE PASS. + + +Replacing his wig and spectacles, Mr. Swartz smiled in a good-humored +manner, and said:-- + +“May I ask to what I am indebted for this visit?” + +Nighthawk replied even more blandly:-- + +“I wish to have a conversation with you, my dear Swartz, before +arresting you.” + +“Ah! you intend to arrest me!” + +“Unless you make it unnecessary.” + +“How?” + +“By producing the paper which we spoke of in the Wilderness,” said +Nighthawk, briefly. + +Swartz shook his head. + +“That is not in my power, my friend. I did not bring it with me.” + +“Will you think me very impolite if I say I do not believe you, my dear +Swartz?” + +Swartz smiled. + +“Well, that would be speaking without ceremony, my friend--but I assure +you I am unable to do as you desire.” + +“Aha! you repeat that curious statement, my dear Swartz! Well, oblige me +by accompanying me to the provost-marshal’s.” + +“You arrest me?” + +“Precisely.” + +“As a spy?” + +“Why not?” + +“It is impossible, Nighthawk!” + +“You resist?” + +“I might do so.” + +And, opening his coat, Mr. Swartz exhibited a bowie-knife and revolver. + +“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.” + +Nighthawk fixed his eyes on the speaker and listened. + +“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.” + +Nighthawk shook his head. + +“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.’” + +Mr. Swartz smiled sweetly. + +“And I am the bird in your hand?” + +“Something like it.” + +“I am a spy?” + +“Don’t use hard names, my friend.” + +“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.” + +“The necessity is painful,” said Nighthawk. + +“It is useless, my friend.” + +“I will try it.” + +Swartz smiled, and drew a paper from his pocket, which he unfolded. + +“You are then determined to arrest your old comrade, Nighthawk.” + +“Yes, my dear Swartz.” + +“As a spy?” + +“Exactly.” + +“In spite of this?” + +And Mr. Swartz held out the paper. + +“Do me the favor to read this, colonel, and then oblige me by returning +it.” + +I took the paper, and easily read it by moonlight. It contained the +following words:-- + +“The bearer is employed on secret service, by the Confederate +Government, and will not be molested.” + +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 +_Confederate_ emissary! + +I read the paper aloud to Nighthawk, and pointed to the official +signature and seal. + +Nighthawk uttered a groan, and his chin sank upon his breast. + +That spectacle seemed to excite the sympathy of his friend. + +“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.” + +“When?” murmured Nighthawk. + +“In three days from this time.” + +“Where?” + +“At the house of our friend Alibi, near Monk’s Neck, in Dinwiddie.” + +“On your word?” + +“On the word of Swartz!” + +“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.” + +With which words Nighthawk saluted his “friend,” and we returned toward +the upper part of the city. + +Such were the scenes of a night in the summer of 1864. + + + + +XII. + + +THE GRAVE OF STUART. + + +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. + +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 _deus ex machinâ_ to extricate me from all +my troubles, appeared in the person of Colonel P-----, of army +head-quarters. + +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!” + +I echoed the colonel’s laugh. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“A thousand thanks, colonel! You could not offer me a more pleasant +duty.” + +“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.” + +He looked at me, laughing. + +“‘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!” + +With which words he laughed again, shook me by the hand, and then his +tall form disappeared in the doorway of the war office. + +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! + +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. + +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, _Hilt to Hilt, or Days and Nights on the Banks of the +Shenandoah_. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At the same moment he turned round, and I recognized the great partisan, +Colonel Mosby.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Real.] + + + + +XIII. + + +THE CEDARS. + + +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. + +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. + +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,--_they_ 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_ 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!” + +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. + +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. + +With these words of preface, I resume the thread of my history. + + + + +XIV. + + +THE SITUATION. + + +October, 1864, had come. + +The “situation” may be described in a few words. + +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. + +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:-- + + “While yet the lamp holds out to burn, + The vilest rebel may return.” + +Lee’s lines faced Grant’s, following the blue cordon across the rivers, +around Petersburg, toward the Southside railroad. + +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. + +Such, reader was the situation, when I joined the army. The great fifth +act of the tragic drama was approaching. + + + + +XV. + + +MOHUN AGAIN. + + +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. + +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. + +On the day after my departure from Petersburg, I had made my +inspections, and was returning. + +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. + +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. + +“How had his suit prospered? Were things more encouraging?” + +I asked him these questions with a laugh, apologizing for my intrusion. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was mounted on a fine animal, and came at full speed. + +In a moment he had caught up, recognized, and we exchanged a warm grasp +of the hand. + +“I am delighted to see you, Surry. I thought you had deserted us, old +fellow. The sight of you is a treat!” + +“And the sight of you, my dear Mohun. You look beaming.” + +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. + +“You are positively dazzling, Mohun. Where are you going, and what has +happened to you? Ah!--I begin to understand!” + +And pointing northward, I said:-- + +“Five Forks is not far from here, is it?” + +Mohun colored, but, the next moment, burst into laughter. + +“You are right, old friend! It is impossible to hide any thing from +you.” + +“And a friend of yours is there--whom you are going to see?” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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!” + +The offer was tempting. Why not accept it? My hesitation lasted exactly +three seconds. + +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. + + + + +XVI. + + +“FIVE FORKS.” + + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +I asked myself these questions vainly--and decided in my mind that I +should probably never know. + +I was mistaken. I was going to know before midnight. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XVII. + + +GENERAL DAVENANT. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Whose head-quarters are these?” I asked of a man on post, near. + +“Mine, my dear colonel,” said a voice in the darkness near. “My candle +yonder is hospitable and enables me to recognize you.” + +With which words the figure advanced into the light, and I recognized +the tall and stately form of General Davenant. + +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.” + +And intrusting my horse to the orderly with some brief directions, the +general led the way into his head-quarters tent. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +I declined the supper, but accepted the bed; and seated opposite the +grizzled old cavalier, in his gray uniform, had begun to converse. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“I do, general; a very common cause of trouble to young men--a young +lady.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“I can talk of this affair with you, colonel,” he added, gloomily, “for +Will has told me of your regard for him.” + +I bowed, and said:-- + +“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.” + +General Davenant, with his hand covering his brow, listened in silence. + +“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.” + +General Davenant suddenly rose erect. His eye was flashing. + +“I beg you will not, colonel!” he exclaimed. “The barrier between +himself and--Miss Conway--can never be removed.” + +I looked at the speaker’s flushed face with positive wonder, and +replied:-- + +“You astonish me, general! Are there any such obstacles in life?” + +“There are!” + +I made no reply. + +“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!” + +I looked up with deep astonishment. + +“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 _you_ had done _him_ some great +wrong.” + +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. + +Then, all at once, the general raised his head. His expression was no +longer fiery--it was unutterably sad. + +“I have been reflecting, colonel,” he said gravely, “and, in these few +minutes, have come to a somewhat singular determination.” + +“What is that, general?” + +“To tell you why _my_ son can never marry the daughter of Judge Conway!” + + + + +XVIII. + + +TWO MEN AND A WOMAN. + + +General Davenant leaned his elbow on the desk, rested his forehead in +his hand, and said in a deep, measured voice:-- + +“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. + +“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!” + +Knitting his brows as he spoke, the old soldier looked gloomily into the +blaze before us. In a moment, he went on:-- + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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 _distrait_ 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 _him_ with satirical meaning. If she smiled +on George, their eyes were turned toward me, and they giggled and +whispered. + +“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. + +“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! + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“Such is the necessary introduction, colonel,” said General Davenant, +“to the events which I propose to relate.” + + + + +XIX. + + +THE MURDER. + + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘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 _entente cordial_ 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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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? + +“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!” + + + + +XX. + + +THE KNIFE. + + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“The assault was so sudden and terrible that I staggered back, and +nearly fell over the grave. + +“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. + +“He was, meanwhile, struggling in the hands of his friends, who, by main +force, held him back. + +“‘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!’ + +“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. + +“That _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! + +“‘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!’ + +“‘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. + +“‘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!’ + +“And drawing from his pocket a knife, covered with clotted blood, he +threw it upon the grave before all eyes. + +“Good God! It was my own!” + + + + +XXI. + + +THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. + + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“That was kind. I was a murderer, and my proper place a jail. Why should +_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? + +“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 _in jail_--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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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! + +“This was the condition of things when the special term of the court, +held expressly to try me, commenced at Dinwiddie.” + + + + +XXII. + + +THE TRIAL. + + +“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. + +“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. + +“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 _me_ 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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘Was the door of the office locked?’ asked one of them. + +“‘Yes, sir,’ was the reply. + +“‘Were the windows secured?’ + +“‘By shutters with bolts.’ + +“‘Are all the bolts on the windows of this building firm?’ + +“‘I think so, sir.’ + +“‘There is one, that is not!’ said the juror. + +“And he pointed to a long iron bolt on one of the windows, which bore +evident traces of having been rent from its socket. + +“The sheriff looked in amazement in the direction indicated. + +“‘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.’ + +“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.’ + +“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, _the murder was committed with my own +knife!_ 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. _By riding across the angle +through the thicket, I could easily have rejoined him_! + +“‘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!’ + +“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. + +“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. + +“I opened the letter--glanced at its contents--at the same instant the +jury made their appearance--and the clerk said:-- + +“‘Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?’ + +“‘We have, sir,’ said the foreman. + +“‘What is it?’ + +“‘Not guilty!’ + +“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:-- + +“‘Murderer! you have escaped, but I brand you before God and man as the +murderer of my brother!’ + +“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.” + + + + +XXIII. + + +WHAT THE LETTER CONTAINED. + + +General Davenant was silent for a moment. The deep voice, so long +resounding in my ears, made the silence oppressive. + +“Now you know, my dear colonel,” he suddenly added, “why my son can not +form an alliance with a daughter of Judge Conway.” + +I bowed my head. The whole mystery was patent before me. + +“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.’” + +The old soldier uttered these words with gloomy bitterness; but in a +moment he had regained his coolness. + +“That was the end of the affair,” he said. “I went home, accompanied by +a _cortége_ 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!’ + +“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?” + +“The contents of the letter, general?” + +“Yes, colonel.” + +“What did it contain?--I beg you to tell me!” + +“The confession of the murderer of George Conway!” + + + + +XXIV. + + +“BLOOD.” + + +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. + +“My horse!” came in the brief tone of command. + +And General Davenant tore open the dispatch, which he read attentively. + +“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?” + +“Willingly.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“And yet,” I said, “there are those who will not believe in _blood_--or +race!” + +Fill the space which that dash occupies, my dear reader, with an abrupt +“duck” of the head, as a bullet went through my hat! + +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. + +When I opened my eyes the sun was high in the heavens. I looked around +for the general, he was invisible. + +I rose, and at the door of the tent met Charley, with bright eyes, and +cheeks like roses. + +“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.” + +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:-- + +“I say, colonel! wasn’t that a jolly old he-fight we had last night?” + +My reply was a laugh, and a glance of admiration at the gay boy. + +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. + + + + +XXV. + + +THE BLUE SERPENT. + + +Once back at the “Cedars,” I reflected deeply upon the history which I +had heard from the lips of General Davenant. + +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. + +“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!” + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _pari passu_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +And Grant continued to move on, and Lee continued to stretch his thin +line, until it began to crack. + +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. + + + + +XXVI. + + +THE HOUSE NEAR MONK’S NECK, AND ITS OWNER. + + +Such was the critical condition of affairs when I again set out to make +my regular tour of inspection of the cavalry. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“Well, general,” croaked Mr. Alibi, with a smile, and in a nasal voice, +“wha--a--t’s the news?” + +“I am only a lieutenant-colonel, Mr. Alibi.” + +“Well, colonel, any thing stirring?” + +“Nothing, I think. Any news with you, Mr. Alibi? I have heard of you +from a friend of yours.” + +“Eh! And who mout that be, colonel?” + +“Mr. Nighthawk. Have you seen him lately?” + +“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.” + +“Nor Swartz, either?” + +Mr. Alibi looked keenly at me. + +“Na--a--a--w, nor him nuther, leftenant-colonel.” + +“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.” + +“Made an app’intment, did he, leftenant--least ways, colonel?” + +“Yes.” + +“With Mr. Nighthawk?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, I reckon they are both dead, or they’d ‘a’ kept their +app’intment.” + +“Nighthawk dead!” + +“He must be, sartain.” + +“You are mistaken, friend Alibi,” said a voice behind him. + +And Nighthawk, in person, entered the house. + + + + +XXVII. + + +STARVATION. + + +Nighthawk had appeared, as was his wont, as if he had risen from the +earth. + +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. + +“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.” + +And Mr. Alibi flapped his wings, stretched out his neck, and seemed +about to cackle. + +“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.” + +And Mr. Nighthawk rose, and carelessly sat down near the window, through +which he could reconnoitre. + +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. + +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. + +No sooner had his figure vanished than Nighthawk turned hastily toward +me. + +“Will you go with me to-night, colonel, on an expedition I intend to +make?” he said. + +“An expedition, Nighthawk?” + +“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.” + +“Explain, Nighthawk.” + +“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?” + +“Perfectly.” + +“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.” + +“In the enemy’s lines?” + +“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.” + +“Where?” + +“In the upper room of a deserted house, not three miles from this place, +within the enemy’s picket line.” + +“The upper room of a deserted house?” + +‘“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!” + +“Good heavens! Is it possible?” I said, “Swartz is shut up and left to +starve?” + +“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. + +“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!’ + +“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 _that woman_ 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.” + +“Can you do so?” + +“With one companion--to look out while I pick the lock.” + +“Good--I’ll go with you; and provide for contingencies, too.” + +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. + +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. + +It was four o’clock. Already the sun was declining toward the wooded +horizon; I looked toward it, and then at Nighthawk, who nodded. + +“In an hour, colonel,” he said, “and as I am broken down, I will sleep.” + +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. + +“A cur’ous man, leftenant-colonel! a cur’ous man is Mr. Nighthawk!” said +Mr. Alibi. + +And he flapped his arms, and wriggled about in a manner so extraordinary +that he looked more like a penguin than ever. + + + + +XXVIII. + + +BIRDS OF PREY. + + +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. + +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. + +Fifty paces from the bank, a shadowy object on horseback was visible by +the dim light. + +“The vedette,” murmured Nighthawk, “but he need not see us.” + +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. + +A hundred yards farther a fire twinkled; and around this fire were the +dusky figures of men and horses. This was evidently the picket. + +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. + +“Some one is yonder,” came from Nighthawk in a murmur as before, “let us +go there, colonel.” + +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. + +Nighthawk then rose erect, and said in a whisper:-- + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Look!” he said. + +And drawing me toward him, he pointed through a crack in the board +partition, which separated the passage from the apartment. + + + + +XXIX. + + +DARKE’S PAST LIFE. + + +Leaning on Nighthawk’s shoulder, I placed my eye at the aperture. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The woman in the gray dress, had never appeared cooler. She rocked to +and fro in her chair with an air of perfect _insouciance_. + +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. + +As I reached my position near the door, Darke was speaking to Swartz:-- + +“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.” + +Darke paused a moment, and then gazed with a strange mixture of gloom +and tenderness upon the gray woman. + +“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.” + +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:-- + +“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. + +“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!” + + + + +XXX. + + +STABBED “NOT MURDERED.” + + +“Well,” Darke continued, “I have told you my design, and now I will +inform you how I carried it out. + +“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.” + +There was always a marked hesitation when he came to the name of his +victim. He went on more rapidly now. + +“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 _him_; and the other who had followed _him_ 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! + +“That was the whole! Do you call it a _murder_? I rose up, as _he_ +fell back. His breast was all bloody; his eyes turned round; he gasped +something, and fell back dead.” + +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. + +“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--_his_ 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 _his_ away from that place, but I left +something of my own; the knife with which I had struck him! + +“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.” + + + + +XXXI. + + +THE TWO PAPERS. + + +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? + +“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--_him_--about a trifle. What made things worse was that +they had long been enemies--and when _he_ was found there, dead in +the bushes, next day, the owner of the knife found near the body was +arrested as the murderer. + +“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! + +“Well, the trial was near. I had gone back to the court-house on _that +day_, 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 _most_ 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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“After that I went far, and saw many persons. Among the rest you, madam; +and our matrimonial life has been chequered! + +“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. + +“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! + +“You think me jesting, perhaps--you imagine I will spare you. Undeceive +yourself--your life is a small matter compared with these two papers. + +“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!” + + + + +XXXII. + + +A PISTOL-SHOT. + + +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. + +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. + +Darke rose to his feet, and in two strides was at the window. + +“An attack!” he exclaimed. “Can the friends of this carrion be trying to +catch me!” + +And springing toward the door, he tore it open. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Darke saw that the small force on picket could not contend with the +attacking party. + +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. + +“So, you are rescued, you think! You have laid this trap for me, +jailbird!” + +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. + +It was too late. The bullet did not strike him; and the report of his +own weapon followed that of mine like an echo. + +Swartz staggered back, threw up his hands, and uttering a wild cry, fell +at full length upon the ground. + +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. + +Darke had escaped with the gray woman, in the darkness. + +The pursuit did not continue far. The Federal lines were near; and Mohun +soon recalled his men. + +Grasping me cordially by the hand, he exclaimed:-- + +“Well, Surry! the prisoner! Where is Swartz?” + +I pointed to the spot where his body lay, and went thither with Mohun. + +Swartz lay perfectly dead, in a pool of blood. Darke had blown out his +brains. + + + + +XXXIII. + + +PRESTON HAMPTON. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“What news?” I asked. + +“The enemy are advancing in force! They have crossed!” + +“Where?” + +“Near Armstrong’s!” + +And the courier disappeared, at full speed, in the woods. In a moment I +had abandoned my design of inspecting, and was riding back. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +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. + +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. + +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:-- + +“I think we can hold our ground, colonel.” + +And looking over his shoulder, in the direction of Five Forks, he +murmured:-- + +“This is a good place to die, too.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +In an instant I had dismounted, and with other officers who hastened up, +had raised him from the earth. + +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] + +[Footnote 1: Fact] + +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. + +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. + +So fell Preston Hampton. Peace to his ashes! No kinder or braver spirit +ever died for his country! + + + + +XXXIV. + + +I AM CAPTURED. + + +Hour after hour the battle continued to rage; the enemy making resolute +attempts to brush off the cavalry. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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] + +[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.] + +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. + +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. + +In front of them, I recognized General Davenant, on horseback, and sword +in hand, leading the charge. His son Charley was beside him. + +“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!” + +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. + +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] + +[Footnote 1: Fact.] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XXXV. + + +FACE TO FACE. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +All at once a loud voice was heard shouting in the half darkness:-- + +“Halt! halt! you cursed cowards! Halt! and form column!” + +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. + +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. + +“Cowardly scoundrels!” exclaimed their leader, in fierce accents, “where +are the prisoners that ran into us?” + +“Here, colonel. One is a general!” said a man. + +“Let me see them!” + +General Davenant struck the spur violently into his horse, and rode +close to the Federal officer, in whom I had recognized Colonel Darke. + +“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!” + + + + +XXXVI. + + +THE CURSE. + + +Darke’s hand unconsciously drew the rein, and man and horse both seemed +to stagger back before the furious old soldier. + +“General--Davenant!” muttered Darke, turning pale. + +“Yes, General Davenant!--a gentleman, an honest man; not a traitor and a +murderer!” + +“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.” + +“Ah! ‘Killed!’ Killing is a favorite topic with you!” exclaimed General +Davenant, furiously; “well, kill _me_, now!--Strike your dastardly +sword, or _your knife_ 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!” + +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. + +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: + +Then he raised his head, made a sign with his hand to an officer, and +said, briefly:-- + +“Move back with the column--leave these prisoners here.” + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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!” + +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:-- + +“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 _you_ 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 _your_ 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 _you_! for _you_ cultivated in me the vile habits which led +me on to murder!” + +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:-- + +“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!” + +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. + +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:-- + +“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.” + +“Yes,” said Darke, in his deep voice, “first warped--then, when cut +down, cast off and forgotten!” + +General Davenant looked at the speaker with bitter melancholy. + +“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 _my_ 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 _his_ young life, that _your_ +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!” + +The last words of the speaker were nearly drowned in a heavy fusillade +which issued from the woods close by. + +“Listen!” exclaimed General Davenant, “that is the fire of your +hirelings, sir, directed at the hearts of your brethren! _You_ are +leading that scum against the gentlemen of Virginia! Well join them! +Point _me_, 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!” + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +Two hours afterward I was on my way to Petersburg. + +The enemy were already falling back from their adventurous attempt to +seize the Southside road. + +In the morning they had retired across the Rowanty, and disappeared. + +So ended that heavy blow at Lee’s great war-artery. + + [Illustration: THE FLIGHT] + + + + + +BOOK IV. + + + + +THE PHANTOMS. + + + + +I. + + +RICHMOND BY THE THROAT. + + +I was again back at the “Cedars,” after the rapid and shifting scenes +which I have endeavored to place before the reader. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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 _Examiner_ newspaper; and it chanced to contain +an editorial on the fight just described, with some penetrating views on +the “situation” at that time. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +* * * * * DAILY EXAMINER. * * * * * MONDAY MORNING OCT. 31, 1864. * * * +* * + + “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.” + +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. + +“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. + +Messieurs of the great Northwest, she gave you being, and suckled you! +Are you going to see her strangled before your very eyes? + + + + +II. + + +NIGHTMARE. + + +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. + +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. + +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, +_pro_ and _con_, on all subjects. The _Examiner_ attacked the +government, and denounced the whole administration of affairs. The +_Sentinel_ 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 _couleur de rose_. But the green glasses +outnumbered the rose-colored more and more every day. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +So that strange autumn of that strange year, 1864, wore on. The country +was oppressed as by some hideous nightmare; and Government was silent. + +The army alone, kept heart of hope--Lee’s old soldiers defied the enemy +to the last. + + + + +III. + + +LEE’S MISERABLES. + + +They called themselves “Lee’s Miserables.” + +That was a grim piece of humor, was it not, reader? And the name had +had a somewhat curious origin. Victor Hugo’s work, _Les Misérables_, 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. + +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 +“_Lee’s_ Miserables!”[1] + +[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.] + +[Illustration: THE TRENCHES.] + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +That is not an exaggeration, reader. These facts are of record. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Army of _Northern Virginia_!--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! + +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! + +Bearded men were seen crying on the ninth of April, 1865. But it was +_surrender_ which wrung their hearts, and brought tears to the grim +faces. + +Grant’s cannon had only made “Lee’s Miserables” cheer and laugh. + + + + +IV. + + +THE BLANDFORD RUINS. + + +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! + +After reading the _Examiner’s_ 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! + +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. + +[Footnote 1: Real.] + +“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.” + +And wishing to have a better view of the lines, I rode toward Blandford. + +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] + +[Footnote 1: Real.] + +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. + +The “situation” was plain. “Lovers,” I said to myself; “let me not +disturb the young ones!” + +And I turned to walk away without attracting their attention. + +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. + +The result was, that a hearty laugh echoed among the tombstones; and +that the youth and maiden rose, hastening rapidly toward me. + +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. + + + + +V. + + +LES FORTUNÉS. + + +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. + +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!” + +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! + +He grasped my hand with a warmth which evidently came straight from the +heart; for he had a heart--that dandy! + +“Hurrah! old fellow; here you are!” Tom cried, laughing. “You came upon +us as suddenly as if you had descended from heaven!” + +“Whither you would like to send me back! Am I wrong, Tom?” + +And I shot a glance of ancient and paternal affection at these two young +things, whose _tete-à-tete_ I had interrupted. + +Katy blushed beautifully, and then ended by laughing. Tom caressed his +slender mustache, and said:--- + +“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.” + +“Until an angel is ready to go with you!” + +And I glanced at the angel with the ringlets. + +“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!” + +“Let the angel sit in judgment!” + +“Oh, you have most ‘damnable iteration!’” + +“I learned it all from you.” + +“From me, my boy?” + +“Certainly--see the beauty of repetition in poetry.” + +And looking at the damsel, I began to repeat-- + + “Katy! Katy! + Don’t marry any other! + You’ll break my heart, and kill me dead, + And then be hanged for murder!” + +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. + +“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!” + +“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?” + +“Exactly, my dear Surry.” + +“And have captured the barque _Katy!_” + +“Humph!” quoth Miss Katy, tossing her head, with a blush and a laugh. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“In Dinwiddie, Miss Katy?” + +“Yes, near the Rowanty. My cousin, Mr. Dare, has come for me.” + +“Well, I will visit you there.” + +“Please do. The house is called ‘Disaway’s.’” + +I bowed, smiling, and turned to Tom Herbert. + +“When shall I see you again, Tom, and where? Next week--at Disaway’s?” + +Tom colored and then laughed. This dandy, you see, was a good boy still. + +“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?” + +“Perfectly, Tom. There will probably be a battle near ‘Disaway’s.’” + +“And I’d better ride over the ground, eh?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, I’ll do it!” + +“Only beware of one thing!” + +“What, my dear Surry?” asked Tom, anxiously. + +“There is probably a conservatory at Disaway’s.” + +“A conservatory?” + +“Like that near Buckland, and the battle might take place _there_. If it +does--two to one you are routed!” + +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. + +“All right, I’ll look out, Surry!” + +“Resolve on one thing, Tom.” + +“What is that?” + +“That you will never surrender, but be taken in arms!” + +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. + +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! + + + + +VI. + + +ON THE BANKS OF THE ROWANTY. + + +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. + +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. + +Such is war, reader,--a charming panorama of dead bodies and vultures! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Trifles,” you say, perhaps, reader; “why don’t our friend, the colonel, +go on with his narrative?” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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.” + +Do you remember it, my dear reader? It is old--but so many good things +are old! + + “Bird of beauty, whose bright plumage + Sparkles with a thousand dyes: + Bright thine eyes, and gay thy carol, + Though stern winter rules the skies!” + +Do you say that is not very grand poetry? I protest! friend, I think it +superior to the _chef d’oeuvres_ 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:-- + + “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!” + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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:-- + + “Katy! Katy! + Don’t marry any other! + You’ll break my heart and kill me dead, + And you’ll be hung for murder!” + +Wretch!--I could cheerfully have strangled him! + + + + +VII. + + +THE STUART HORSE ARTILLERY. + + +An hour afterward I was at the camp of the Stuart horse artillery. + +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. + +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. + +These consisted of a breadth of canvass, stretched beneath a tree in the +field--in front of which burned a fire. + +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 _Marseillaise_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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,-- + + “See him enter on the valley,” + +which wound up with the words,-- + + “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!” + +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. + +Then the music changed its character, and the stirring replaced the sad. + + “If you want to have a good time, + J’ine the cavalry!” + +came in grand, uproarious strains; and this was succeeded by the +jubilant-- + + “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!” + +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:”-- + + “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!” + +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. + + + + +VIII. + + +“CHARGE! STUART! PAY OFF ASHBY’S SCORE!” + + +These memories are beguiling, and while they possess me, my drama does +not march. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +What had happened? I rose quickly, and throwing my cape over my +shoulders, went out of the tent. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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] + +[Footnote 1: Fact.] + +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. + +“I have no time to listen to women!”[1] said the Federal general, +rudely. + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +“It is not _time_ that you want, sir!” returned the lady, with great +hauteur, “it is _politeness_!”[1] + +[Footnote 1: Her words.] + +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:-- + +“General if you are going to burn the premises, you had better commence, +as the rebs are pursuing us.” + +“Order it to be done at once!” was the gruff reply. + +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!” + +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,-- + + “Charge! Stuart! pay off Ashby’s score, + In Stonewall Jackson’s way.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: Fact.] + +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. + + + + +IX. + + +MOHUN,--HIS THIRD PHASE. + + +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. + +“Well, this little affair is over, my dear Surry,” he said; “have you +any thing to occupy you for two or three hours?” + +“Nothing; entirely at your service, Mohun.” + +“Well, I wish you to accompany me on a private expedition. Will you +follow me blindfold?” + +“Confidingly.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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.” + +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? + +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. + +“I am going to take you to see a somewhat singular character,” he said. + +“Who is he?” + +“It is a woman.” + +“Ah!” + +“And a very strange one, I promise you, my dear Surry.” + +“Lead on, I’ll follow thee!” + +“Good! and I declare to you, I think Shakespeare would have examined +this human being with attention.” + +“She is a phenomenon, then?” + +“Yes.” + +“A witch?” + +“No, an epileptic; at least I think so.” + +“Indeed! And where does she live?” + +“On the Halifax road, some miles from the Rowanty.” + +“In the lines of the enemy, then?” + +“Something like it.” + +“Humph!” + +“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.” + +“At all events, we’ll share any, Mohun. Forward!” + +And we pushed on to the Halifax bridge, where, as Mohun expected, there +was no Federal picket. + +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. + + + + +X. + + +AMANDA. + + +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. + +“We have arrived!” said Mohun, leading the way to the cabin, which we +soon reached. + +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. + +“Come in!” said a cheerful and smiling voice. + +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. + +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] + +[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.] + +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. + +“Take seats, gentlemen,” she said, “and please excuse me from getting +up. I am a little poorly to-day.” + +“Stay where you are, Amanda,” said Mohun, “and do not disturb yourself.” + +She looked at him with her dark eyes, and said, in her gentle, friendly +voice:-- + +“You know me, I see, General Mohun.” + +“And you me, I see, Amanda.” + +“I never saw you before, sir, but--am I mistaken?” + +“Not in the least. How did you know me?” + +The singular Amanda smiled. + +“I have _seen you_ often, sir.” + +“Ah--in your visions?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Or, perhaps, Nighthawk described me. You know Mr. Nighthawk!” + +“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 _saw you_ to know you +afterward.” + +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. + +For some moments Mohun remained silent. Then he said:-- + +“Those visions which you have are very strange. Is it possible that you +really _see_ 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 _really_ see things.” + +Amanda smiled with untroubled sweetness. + +“I am in earnest, sir,” she said, “and I would not jest with you and +Colonel Surry.” + +I listened in astonishment. + +“Ah! you know me, too, Amanda!” + +“Yes, sir--or I think I do. I think you are Colonel Surry, sir.” + +“How do you know that?” + +“I have _seen you, too_, sir?” was the smiling reply. + +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.” + +To her last words, however, I made no reply, and Mohun renewed the +colloquy, as before. + +“Then you are really in earnest, Amanda, and actually see, in vision, +what is coming to pass?” he said. + +“I think I do, sir.” + +“Do you have the visions often?” + +“I did once, sir, but they now seldomer come.” + +“What produces them?” + +“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.” + +“I hear that you predicted General Hunter’s attack on Lexington last +June.” + +“Yes, sir, I told a lady what _I saw_, some months before it came to +pass.” + +“What did you see? Will you repeat it for us?” + +“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.” + +“The Military Institute, with the books and scientific apparatus,” said +Mohun, calmly. + +“Was it, sir? I did not know.” + +“What did you see afterward, Amanda?” + +“Another house burning, sir; the Federal people gave the ladies ten +minutes to leave it, and then set it on fire.” + +Mohun glanced at me. + +“That is strange,” he said; “do you know the name of the family?” + +“No, sir.” + +“It was Governor Letcher’s. Well, what next?” + +“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.” + +“Washington’s statue!” murmured Mohun; and, turning to me, he added:-- + +“This is curious, is it not, Surry?” + +I nodded. + +“_Very_ curious.” + +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:-- + +“You do not believe in this?” + +“No,” I returned, in the same tone. + +“And yet one thing is remarkable.” + +“What?” + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: Fact.] + +And turning to Amanda, he said:-- + +“When did you see these things?” + +“I think it was in March, sir.” + +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. + +“And you _saw_ the fight at Reams’s, too?” + +“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.” + +“Have you had any visions, since?” + +“Only one, sir.” + +“Lately?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“What did you see?” + +“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.” + +Mohun smiled. + +“Which side will be successful, Amanda?” + +“The vision did not say, sir.”[1] + +[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.] + +Mohun, who had taken his seat on a rude settee, leaned his elbow on his +knee, and for some moments gazed into the fire. + +“I have asked you some questions, Amanda,” he said at length, “relating +to public events. I _now come to some private matters_--those which +brought me hither--in which your singular visions may probably assist +me. Are you willing to help me?” + +“Yes, indeed, sir, if I can,” was the reply. + + + + +XI. + + +DEEP UNDER DEEP. + + +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. + +“You know Nighthawk?” + +“Oh, yes, sir. He has been here often.” + +“And Swartz?” + +“Very well, sir--I have known him many years.” + +“Have you seen him, lately?” + +“No, sir; not for some weeks.” + +“Ah! You saw him some weeks since?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“At this house?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Do you know what has become of him?” + +“No, sir; but I suppose he is off somewhere.” + +“He is dead!” + +Her head rose slightly, but the smile was unchanged. + +“You don’t tell me, sir!” + +“Yes, murdered; perhaps you know his murderer?” + +“Who was it, sir?” + +“Colonel Darke.” + +“Oh, I know _him_. He has been here, lately. Poor Mr. Swartz! And so +they murdered him! I am sorry for him.” + +Mohun’s glance became more penetrating. + +“You say that Colonel Darke has been here lately?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“What was the occasion of his visit?” + +“I don’t know, sir; unless it was to hear me tell my visions.” + +“You never knew him before?” + +Amanda hesitated. + +“Yes, sir,” she said at length. + +“When, and how?” + +“It was many years ago, sir;--I do not like to speak of these things. He +is a terrible man, they say.” + +“You can speak to me, Amanda. I will repeat nothing; nor will Colonel +Surry.” + +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:-- + +“I will tell you, then, sir. I can read faces, and I know neither you +nor Colonel Surry will get me into trouble.” + +“I will not--on my honor.” + +“Nor I,” I said. + +“That is enough, gentlemen; and now I will tell you what you wish to +know, General Mohun.” + +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:-- + +“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.” + +“What was the appearance of the lady?” said Mohun, over whose brow a +contraction passed. + +“She was small and dark, sir; but had the finest eyes I ever saw.” + +“The same,” said Mohun, in a low tone. “Well?” + +“They stayed all night, sir. Next morning they paid me,--though it was +little--and went on toward the south.” + +“They seemed poor?” + +“Yes, sir. The lady’s dress was cheap and faded--and the gentleman’s +threadbare.” + +“What names did they give?” + +“Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer, sir.” + +Mohun’s brow again contracted. + +“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?” + +The woman hesitated, glancing at Mohun. Then she smiled, and shook her +head. + +“You will get me into trouble, sir,” she said. + +“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.” + +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. + +“It was not much, sir,” she said. “I did listen, and heard many things, +but they would not interest you.” + +“On the contrary, they will interest me much.” + +“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 _him_ to talk +to _her_ so, when she had broken every law of God and man, to marry +the--” + +“The--?” Mohun repeated, bending forward. + +“The murderer of her father, she said, sir,” returned Amanda. + +Mohun started, and looked with a strange expression at me. + +“You understand!” he said, in a low tone, “is the thing credible?” + +“Let us hear more,” I said, gloomy in spite of myself. + +“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?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“What was it?” + +“A Mr. George Conway,” replied Amanda, who seemed to feel that she had +gone too far to conceal any thing. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Did she know that he was her father’s murderer?” + +“No, sir--not until after their marriage, I gathered.” + +“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.” + +“Yes, sir,” returned Amanda, “and he told her as much.” + +“So they had something like a quarrel?” + +“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.” + +And Amanda was silent. + +“Then they fell asleep?” asked Mohun. + +“Yes, sir; and on the next morning he took her in his arms again, and +carried her to the carriage, and they left me.” + +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! + +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. + +I was aroused by the voice of Mohun. He had never appeared more calm: in +his deep tones I could discern no emotion whatever. + +“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.” + +“Yes, sir,” said Amanda, smiling. + +“But, first, let me ask--did Colonel Darke recognize you?” + +“You mean _know_ me? Oh, yes, sir.” + +“And did he speak of his former visit--with his wife?” + +“No, sir.” + +“And you--?” + +Amanda smiled. + +“I made out I didn’t remember him, sir; I was afraid he would think I +had overheard that talk with his wife.” + +“So he simply called as if to see you as a curiosity?” + +“Yes, sir--and staid only a few minutes.” + +“But you know or rather knew poor Swartz better?” + +“I knew him well, sir.” + +“He often stopped here?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +Mohun looked at the woman keenly, and said:-- + +“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?” + +“I do not, sir,” said Amanda, with her eternal smile. + +“For that paper I will pay a thousand dollars in gold. Where is it?” + +The woman’s eyes glittered, then she shook her head. + +“On my salvation I do not know, sir.” + +“Can you discover?” + +Again the shake of the head. + +“How can I, sir?” + +Mohun’s head sank. A bitter sigh issued from his lips--almost a groan. + +“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 _see_ where that paper is to be discovered, and I +will believe! nay more, I will pay you the sum which I mentioned this +moment.” + +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.” + +She smiled radiantly! + +“I will try, sir!” she said. + +Mohun gazed at her strangely. + +“When shall I come to hear the result?” + +“In ten days from this time, sir.” + +“In ten days? So be it.” + +And rising, Mohun bade the singular personage farewell, and went toward +his horse. + +I followed, and we rode back, rapidly, in dead silence, toward the +Rowanty. + + + + +XII. + + +HOW THE MOMENT AT LAST CAME. + + +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:-- + +“Well, what do you think of your new acquaintance, Surry?” + +“I think she is an impostor.” + +“As to her visions, you mean?” + +“Yes. Her story of Darke I believe to be true.” + +“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!” + +“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.” + +“Ah! you mean--?” + +“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.” + +Mohun looked at me with that clear and penetrating glance which +characterized him. + +“Ah! you know that!” he said. + +“I could not fail to know it, Mohun.” + +“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!” + +Mohun passed his hand across his forehead, to wipe away the drops of +cold perspiration. + +“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?” + +“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?” + +Mohun smiled sadly. + +“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 _friend_, 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.” + +And resuming the gallop, Mohun led the way, amid the trailing festoons, +through the fallen logs, across the Rowanty. + +Half an hour afterward we had reached his camp. + +As the sun began to decline we again mounted our horses. + +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. + + + + +XIII. + + +FONTHILL. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +With these words, Mohun proceeded to the adjoining apartment, from which +he returned a moment afterward, dragging two chairs with elaborately +carved backs. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + + + + +XIV. + + +“LORD OF HIMSELF, THAT HERITAGE OF WOE.” + + +Mohun leaned back in his chair, reflected for a moment with evident +sadness, and then, with a deep sigh, said:-- + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.’ + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“You know who aroused that infatuation, the daughter of George Conway.” + + + + +XV. + + +THE STORM. + + +“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.’ + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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 _Miss Mortimer_ at eighteen, when I first +saw her on that night in the Fonthill woods.” + + + + +XVI. + + +ACT I. + + +“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. + +“It was midnight before I retired. I fell asleep thinking of her, and +the exquisite face still followed me in my dreams. + +“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! + +“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 _Miss Mortimer_; 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. + +“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 +_tete-à-tete_ with his sister. + +“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?’ + +“In other words, my dear friend, _Miss Mortimer_ had promised to become +_my wife_, 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 _her_ 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! + +“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. + +“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. + +“So much for Act I., Surry!” + + + + +XVII. + + +THE WILL. + + +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. + +After uttering the words, “So much for Act I., Surry!” he paused. A +moment afterward, however, he resumed his narrative. + +“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. + +“I was impolite enough in introducing _Miss Mortimer_ 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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.’ + +“‘That is more than enough,’ I said, charmed by her caressing voice. ‘I +have few relations, and friends--you are all to me.’ + +“‘And you to me!’ she said. Then she added, with a sort of shudder, ‘but +suppose you were to die!’ + +“I laughed, and replied:-- + +“‘You would be well provided for, and find yourself a gay young widow +with hundreds of beaux?’ + +“She looked at me reproachfully. + +“‘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!’ + +“I shook my head. + +“‘You will not do that,’ I said, ‘you will be the mistress of all my +fortune, after my death!’ + +“‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed. + +“‘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.’ + +“Her face suddenly flushed. + +“‘How can you think of such a thing!’ she said. ‘I did not know how much +you loved me!’ + +“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. + +“‘Yes,’ I said, ‘and now let us talk of a more interesting affair--our +marriage!’ + +“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.” + + + + +XVIII. + + +THE MARRIAGE. + + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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! + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. _Tragedy_ 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! + +“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 _my wife_ in my own, was +driven rapidly to Fonthill. + +“We arrived in the afternoon, and dined in state, all alone. Madam did +the honors of _her table_ 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. + +“After dinner she bade me a smiling courtesy, leaving me to find company +in my cigar, she said; and tripped off to her chamber. + +“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. + +“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.” + + + + +XIX. + + +WEDDING ARRANGEMENTS. + + +“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-- + +“‘Who is that?’ + +“‘I, sir,’ said Nighthawk, in a trembling voice. + +“‘What do you want?’ + +“‘I wish to speak to you, sir.’ + +“‘I am not at leisure.’ + +“‘I _must_ speak to you, sir.’ + +“I wheeled round in my chair, and looked at him. His pallor was +frightful. + +“‘What does all this mean?’ I said, coldly, ‘this is a singular +intrusion.’ + +“‘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!’ + +“There was something in his accent which frightened me, I knew not why. + +“‘Well speak!’ I said, austerely, ‘but be brief!’ + +“‘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!’ + +“In spite of myself I shuddered. + +“‘Speak!’ I said, ‘what does this mean, Nighthawk?’ Why do you look like +a ghost at me?’ + +“He came up close to me. + +“‘What I have to tell you concerns your honor and your life, sir!’ he +said, in a low tone. + +“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. + +“‘Explain your words,’ I said, coldly, ‘there is some mystery in them +which I do not understand. Speak, and speak plainly.’ + +“‘I will do so, sir,’ he replied, in the same trembling voice. + +“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. + +“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:-- + +“‘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!’ + +“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:-- + +“‘How do you know this?’ + +“‘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 _the lady_ 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.’ + +“‘What was it they said?’ + +“‘I can not repeat their words, sir, but I can tell you what I learned +from their talk.’ + +“‘Tell me,’ I said. + +“‘First, I discovered that madam had been married to that man more than +a year before you saw her.’ + +“‘Yes.’ + +“‘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?’ + +“‘No, go on,’ I said. + +“‘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. _You_, 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;--_if you died suddenly on your wedding +night_, she and himself would possess Fonthill, and live in affluence.’ + +“‘Go on,’ I said. + +“‘At these words,’ continued Nighthawk, ‘I could see the man turn pale. +He had not intended _that_, 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 _an obstacle_, +and she was going to _suppress you_--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 _murdered_!’ + +“‘How, and when?’ I said. + +“‘This very night, by poison!’ + +“‘Ah!’ I said, ‘explain that.’ + +“‘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. _He_ +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--_he_ 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?’ + +“‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Remain here, Nighthawk. There is the step of the +servant coming to tell me tea is ready!’” + + + + +XX. + + +THE CUP OF TEA. + + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘You see you keep me waiting!’ she said, with playful _naiveté_, ‘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!’ + +“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. + +“A moment afterward, the old waiter presented me the small gilt cup, +smoking, fragrant, and inviting. + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘The taste of this tea is singular,’ I said, ‘I should call it very +bad.’ + +“‘Oh, it is--excellent!’ she muttered, between her chattering teeth. + +“‘The cup you send me is certainly wretched. Do me the _pleasure to +taste it, madam_.’ + +“And depositing it upon the waiter of the old servant, I said:-- + +“‘Take this to your mistress.’ + +“He did so; she just touched it with her lips, her hand trembling, then +replaced it upon the waiter. + +“‘I perceive nothing disagreeable,’ she murmured. + +“‘Swallow a mouthful,’ I said, with a bitter smile. + +“She looked at me with sudden intentness. Her eyes, full of wild +inquiry, seemed attempting to read into my very soul. + +“‘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. + +“‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed, with an attempt to laugh; ‘and to show you--’ + +“With a quick movement she attempted--as though by accident--to strike +the waiter with her elbow, in order to overturn the cup. + +“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. + +“A moment afterward I was beside madam. + +“‘I pray you to drink,’ I said. + +“‘I can not--I feel unwell,’ she murmured, cowering beneath the fire in +my eye. + +“‘I beg you to drink from this cup.’ + +“‘I have told you--I will not.’ + +“‘I beseech you to humor me, madam. Else I shall regard you as a +murderess!’ + +“She rose suddenly. + +“‘Your meaning, sir!’ she exclaimed, as pale as death. + +“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. + +“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. + +“I turned to madam, who was gazing at me with distended eyes, and +pointing to the cat, said:-- + +“‘See this unfortunate animal, madam! Her death is curious. She has died +in convulsions, in consequence of drinking a cup of tea!’” + + + + +XXI. + + +THE FOILS. + + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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_ 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.’ + +“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. + +“This work, I calculated, would be completed about midnight--and at +midnight I promised myself an interview with my friend Mortimer. + +“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. + +“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. + +“Two minutes afterward I had ascended to madam’s chamber, opened the +door, and entered.” + + + + +XXII. + + +WHILE WAITING FOR MIDNIGHT. + + +“I did not arrive a moment too soon--in fact I came in the nick of time. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘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.’ + +“She glared at me and sat down. She looked regal in her costly furs, +holding the casket, heaped with rich jewels. + +“‘What is your programme, madam, if I may ask?’ I said, taking a chair +which stood opposite to her. + +“‘To leave this house!’ she said, hoarsely. + +“‘Ah! you are tired of me, then?’ + +“‘I am sick of you!--have long been sick of you!’ + +“‘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?’ + +“‘I hate and despise you!’ + +“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!’ + +“‘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!’ + +“She continued to glare at me. + +“‘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?’ + +“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. + +“‘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 _was_ tried and sentenced as a thief--I _was_ married when I +first saw you--and it is this miserable creature, this offscouring of +the kennels, this thief, that has become _the wife_ 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 _your_ +proud name that will be tarnished! _your_ 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!”’ + +“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:-- + +“‘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.’ + +“Her teeth closed with a snap. Otherwise she exhibited no emotion. Her +flashing eyes continued to survey me with the former defiance. + +“‘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.’ + +“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. + +“‘You are _a gentleman_! you insult a woman.’ + +“‘You are a poisoner, madam--you make tea for the gentleman!’ + +“‘You are a coward! do you hear? a coward!’ + +“‘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!’ + +“My words drove her to frenzy. + +“‘Beware!’ she exclaimed, taking a step toward me, and putting her hand +into her bosom. + +“‘Beware!’ I said, with a laugh, ‘beware of what, my dear Madam +Laffarge?’ + +“‘Of this!’ + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘That is a pretty toy!’ I said. ‘Where did you procure it madam, the +poisoner?’ + +“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. + +“The weapon snapped. + +“A moment afterward I had taken it from her hand and thrown it into a +corner. + +“‘Very well done!’ I said. ‘What a pity that you use such indifferent +caps! Your pistol is as harmless as your tea!’ + +“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:-- + +“‘If _he_ only were here!’ + +“‘_He_, madam?’ I said. ‘You refer to your respected _brother_--to Mr. +Mortimer?’ + +“‘Yes! _he_ would make you repent your cowardly outrages and insults.’ + +“I looked at my watch, it was just eleven. + +“‘The hour is earlier than I thought, madam,’ I said, ‘but perhaps he +has already arrived.’ + +“And advancing to the side of the lady, I took her arm, drew her toward +the window, and said:-- + +“‘Why not give your friend the signal you have agreed on, madam?’ + +“At a bound she reached the window, and struck a rapid series of blows +with her fingers upon the pane. + +“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. + +“‘Come in, my dear brother-in-law,’ I said, ‘we are waiting for you.’” + + + + +XXIII. + + +THE RESULT OF THE SIGNAL. + + +“Mortimer recoiled as if a blow had been suddenly struck at him. His +astonishment was so comic that I began to laugh. + +“‘Good! you start!’ I said. ‘You thought I was dead by this time?’ + +“‘Yes,’ he coolly replied. + +“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:-- + +“‘Draw your pistol and you are dead!’ + +“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:-- + +“‘What do you wish, sir; as you declare you await me?’ + +“‘Ask madam,’ I said, ‘or rather exert your own ingenuity.’ + +“‘My ingenuity?’ + +“‘In guessing.’ + +“‘Why not tell me?’ + +“‘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?’ + +“‘Quite so,’ replied Mortimer, without moving a muscle. + +“‘I can understand, without further words, that all explanations and +discussions are wholly useless.’ + +“‘Wholly.’ + +“‘You wish to fight me,’ he said. + +“‘Yes.’ + +“‘To put an end to me, if possible?’ + +“‘Yes.’ + +“‘Well, I will give you that opportunity, sir, and, even return you my +thanks for not killing me on the spot.’ + +“He paused a moment, and looked keenly at me. + +“‘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--’ + +“He suddenly paused and looked at the woman. Their glances in that +moment crossed like lightning. + +“‘Speak out!’ she cried, ‘say plainly--’ + +“‘Hush! I did not mean to--I am no coward, madam!’ + +“‘Say plainly that it was _I_ who formed the design to get rid of this +person!’ + +“And she pointed furiously at me. + +“‘Let no scruples restrain you--take nothing upon yourself--it was I, +I!--I who planned his death!’ + +“Mortimer remained for an instant silent. Then he resumed, in the same +measured voice as before:-- + +“‘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?’ + +“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. + +“‘You accept this honorable combat, then?’ I said. + +“‘With thanks,’ he replied. + +“‘You wish to fight as gentlemen fight?’ + +“‘Yes.’ + +“‘You fence well?’ + +“‘Yes--but you?’ + +“‘Sufficiently well.’ + +“‘Are you certain? I warn you I am excellent at the foils.’ + +“‘They suit me--that is agreed on, then?’ + +“He bowed, and said:-- + +“‘Yes. And now, as to the place, the time, and every detail. All that I +leave to you.’ + +“I bowed in turn. + +“‘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.’ + +“Mortimer looked at me with a sinister smile. + +“‘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!’ + +“‘Yes.’ + +“‘And this lady?’ + +“‘That will come afterward,’ I said. + +“‘If I kill you--?’ + +“‘She is your property.’ + +“‘And if you kill me--?’ + +“‘She is mine,’ I said. + +“The sinister smile again came to the dark features of Mortimer. + +“‘So be it,’ he said, ‘and I am ready to accompany you, sir.’ + +“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. + +“I locked the door, and we descended to the library.” + + + + +XXIV. + + +WHAT TOOK PLACE IN FIFTY MINUTES. + + +“As we entered the apartment, the clock on the mantel-piece struck +midnight. + +“My body servant was within call, and I ordered my carriage, which +Nighthawk had been directed to have ready at a moment’s warning. + +“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. + +“He was so pale that I scarcely recognized him. When his eyes +encountered Mortimer, they flashed lightnings of menace. + +“‘Well?’ I said, in brief tones. + +“‘It is ready, sir,’ Nighthawk replied, in a voice scarcely audible. I +looked at him imperiously. + +“‘And the servants are warned to keep silent?’ + +“‘Yes, sir.’ + +“‘Very well. Remain here until I return,’ I said. + +“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.’ + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“The old coachman looked on in astonishment. The spot at which I had +stopped the carriage was wild and dreary beyond expression. + +“‘Shall I wait, sir?’ he said, respectfully. + +“‘No; return home at once, and put away the carriage.’ + +“He looked at me with a sort of stupor. + +“‘Go home, sir?’ he said. + +“‘Yes.’ + +“‘And leave you?’ + +“‘Obey me!’ + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘We have arrived,’ I said. + +“Mortimer gazed at the grave with a grim smile. + +“‘That is a dreary and desolate object,’ he said. + +“‘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.’ + +“‘Ah!’ he exclaimed, ‘explain that.’ + +“‘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 _dramatis personae_ 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 _me_. I tell you that to warn you to do +your best, sir!’ + +“Mortimer glared at me. It is hard to imagine a glance more sinister. + +“‘So you have arranged the whole affair?’ he said; ‘there is to be a +wholesale killing.’ + +“‘Yes.’ + +“‘You are going to kill--_her_?’ + +“‘Yes.’ + +“‘Yourself, too?’ + +“‘Yes.’ + +“Mortimer’s smile became more sinister, as he raised his foil. + +“‘Take your position, sir,’ he said; ‘I am going to save you the latter +trouble.’ + +“I grasped my weapon, and placed myself on guard. + +“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. + +“Ten minutes afterward the combat was over; and it was Mortimer who +occupied the grave. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘Now to end all,’ I said, and I set out rapidly for Fonthill.” + + + + +XXV. + + +GOING TO REJOIN MORTIMER. + + +“I had not gone a hundred yards, when I heard the sound of wheels +approaching. + +“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. + +“The sound of wheels grew louder; a carriage appeared; and I recognized +my own chariot. + +“‘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. + +“The old coachman looked frightened. Then he said, in an agitated +voice:-- + +“‘Madam ordered me to obey her, sir.’ + +“‘Madam?’ + +“‘Yes, sir.’ + +“‘Where is she?’ + +“‘In the carriage, sir. As soon as I got back, she came down to the +door--ordered me to drive her to _you_--and I was obliged to do so, +sir.’ + +“‘Good,’ I said, ‘you have done well.’ + +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.’ + +A hoarse, but defiant voice at my side said:-- + +“‘Where is Mr. Mortimer?’ + +“‘Gone over the river,’ I said, laughing, ‘and we are going, too.’ + +“‘To rejoin him?’ + +“‘Yes, madam.’ + +“The carriage had rolled on, and as it passed the grave I heard a groan. + +“‘What is that?’ said she. + +“‘The river is groaning over yonder, madam.’ + +“‘You will not attempt to pass it to-night?’ + +“‘Yes, madam. Are you afraid?’ + +“She looked at me with fiery eyes. + +“‘Afraid? No!’ she said, ‘I am afraid of nothing!’ + +“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. + +“All at once my companion said:-- + +“‘I am tired of this--where is Mr. Mortimer?’ + +“‘He awaits us,’ I replied. + +“‘You are going to him?’ + +“‘Yes.’ + +“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. + +“‘The river is dangerous to-night,’ said madam, coldly. + +“‘Then you are afraid, after all?’ + +“‘No!’ she said. + +“And with a firm step she entered the boat. + +“‘Go back with the carriage,’ I said to the driver. He turned the heads +of the horses, and obeyed in silence. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘Then you are going to kill me and yourself at the same time!’ she +said. + +“The woman was fearless. + +“‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it is the only way. I could not live dishonored--you +dishonored me--I die--and die with you!’ + +“And I rose erect, baring my forehead to the lightning. + +“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.” + + + + +XXVI. + + +AFTERWARD. + + +“When I opened my eyes, the sun was shining in my face. + +“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. + +“And where was _she_? 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. + +“For a moment I thought of throwing myself into the river, and thus +ending all my woes. But I was too cowardly. + +“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. + +“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 +_the grave_--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! + +“I reached home an hour or two afterward. Nighthawk was sitting in the +library, pale, and haggard, watching for me. + +“As I entered, he rose with an exclamation, extending his arms toward +me, with an indescribable expression of joy. + +“I shrunk back, refusing his hand. + +“‘Do not touch that,’ I groaned, ‘there is blood on it!’ + +“He seized it, and kneeling down, kissed it. + +“‘Bloody or not, it is _your_ hand--the hand of my dear young master!’ + +“And the honest fellow burst into tears, as he covered my hand with +kisses. + +“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!” + + + + +XXVII. + + +MOHUN TERMINATES HIS NARRATIVE. + + +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. + +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. + +“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 _Atra cura_ 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. + +“Some men might have derived comfort from the circumstances of _that_ +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! + +“Of _his_ 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 +_the other_ was _murdered_! That fact stared me in the face. She had +dishonored me; tricked me; attempted to poison, and then shoot me. _She_ +had designed to murder _me_, 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 _himself_; 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! + +“Let me end this, but not before I say that the dreadful Voice was +_right_. 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. + +“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. + +“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. _That woman_ 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, _he_ 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. + +“You know the scenes which followed. Mortimer, or Darke, as he now calls +himself, confronted me everywhere, and _she_ 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.’ + +“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 _bona fide_ certificate of the marriage of +these two persons _before the year_ 1856, when I first met them. + +“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 _one wife_ yet living! I know _that woman_ 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!’” + +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. + +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:-- + +“This is no longer a gay young cavalryman--a mere thoughtless youth--but +a patriot, fit to live or die with Lee!” + + + + +BOOK V. + + + + +THE DEAD GO FAST. + + + + +I. + + +THE “DOOMED CITY” IN PROFILE--DECEMBER, 1864. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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:--“_He_ gave me this--placed it around my neck on my wedding +day--and I must _sell_ 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:--“_His_ 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!” + +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. + + + + +II. + + +THE MEN WHO RUINED THE CONFEDERACY. + + +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. + +The “Spottswood” was the resort of the _militaires_, 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 _Examiner_!”--that is to +say, the accurate photograph of this shifting chaos, where nothing seems +stationary long enough to have its picture taken. + +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. + +“My dear colonel!” exclaimed Mr. Pangloss-Trochilus, _alias_ 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 _very_ 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 _can_ be no doubt of the result, colonel--good +morning!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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--” + +“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. + +“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 _him_. Look at Beauregard--he +envies and fears _him_, so he keeps him down. Don’t depend on the +President, Desperade, or you’ll be a fool, my friend!” + +And Mr. Torpedo walked on, puffing away at the fiery stump of his cigar, +and muttering curses against President Davis. + +An hour afterward, I was conversing in the rotunda of the capítol, with +the high-bred and smiling old cavalier, Judge Conway, and he was saying +to me:-- + +“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!” + + + + +III. + + +MY LAST VISIT TO JOHN M. DANIEL. + + +On the night before my return to the army, I paid my last visit to John +M. Daniel. + +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. + +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. + +He received me with grim cordiality, offered me a cigar, and said:-- + +“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.” + +“You believe Wilmington is going to fall, then?” + +“As surely as Savannah.” + +“Savannah! You think that? We are more hopeful at Petersburg.” + +“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.” + +He spoke with evident difficulty, and his laboring voice, like his +haggard cheeks, showed that he had been ill since I last saw him. + +“Savannah captured, or surrendered!” I said, with knit brows. “What will +be the result of that?” + +“Ruin,” was the curt response. + +“Not the loss of a mere town?” + +“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 _hack_; and you will see the +beginning of the end.” + +“That is a gloomy view enough.” + +“Yes--every thing is gloomy now. The devil of high-headed obstinacy and +incompetence rules affairs. I do not croak in the _Examiner_ newspaper. +But we are going straight to the devil.” + +As he uttered these words, he placed his hand upon his breast, and +closed his eyes, as though he were going to faint. + +“What is the matter?” I exclaimed, rising abruptly, and approaching him. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +His lip curled as he spoke. + +“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!” + +The speaker was stopped by a fit of coughing, and when it had subsided, +leaned back, faint and exhausted, in his chair. + +“The fact is--Sherman--” he said, with difficulty, “seems to have--the +hook in--_our_ nose!” + +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:-- + +“I find you less hopeful than last summer. At that time you were in good +spirits, and the tone of the _Examiner_ was buoyant.” + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +“Your views have changed, I perceive--but you change with the whole +country.” + +“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 _a dominant man_, colonel, fit, _if any thing happened_, to rise to +the head of affairs.[1] Oh! for an hour of Jackson! Oh! for a day of our +dead Dundee!”[2] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +[Footnote 2: His words.] + +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. + +“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.” + +I could make no reply. The words of this singular man and profound +thinker, affected me dolefully. + +“Yes, colonel,” he went on, “the three or four months which have passed +since your last visit, have cleared away all mists from _my_ 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.” + +And with eyes full of a profound melancholy, the speaker gazed into the +fire. + +“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 _Examiner_ newspaper at his disposal to +advocate that policy.”[1] + +[Footnote 1: This, I learned afterward, from the Hon. Mr. -----, was +duly done by Mr. Daniel. But it was too late.] + +“Is it possible!” I said. “Frankly, I do not think things are so +desperate.” + +“You are a soldier, and hopeful, colonel. The smoke blinds you.” + +“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!’” + +“General Lee is a soldier--and you know what the song says: ‘A soldier’s +business, boys, is to die!’” + +I could find no reply to the grim words. + +“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 _Dies Irae_! I shall be in my +grave!” + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +[Footnote 2: His words.] + +[Footnote 3: His words.] + +And breathing heavily, the journalist again leaned back in his chair, as +though about to faint. + +An hour afterward, I terminated my visit, and went out, oppressed and +gloomy. + +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. + +His predictions were destined to have a very remarkable fulfilment. + +On the 21st of December, a few days after our interview, Sherman +telegraphed to Lincoln:-- + +“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.” + +In January, Wilmington fell. + +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. + +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. + +When the physician came to his bedside, he was dead. + +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. + +His prophecy and wish were thus fulfilled.[1] + +[Footnote 1: These details are strictly accurate.] + + + + +IV. + + +GARROTED. + + +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. + +The night was not however to pass without adventures of another +character. + +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. + +Hastening forward I reached the spot, which was not far from the City +Hall; and a glance told me all. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +“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!” + +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!” + +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. + +“He got _the other bundle_!” 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!” + +I laid my hand upon his arm. + +“You have lost a very considerable sum,” I said, “but--you may lose more +still.” + +And I pointed to the roll of bank notes in his hand, with a significant +glance. At these words he started. + +“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!” + +And Mr. Blocque commenced running wildly toward a place of safety. + +In a moment he had disappeared, and I found myself alone--laughing +heartily. + + + + +V. + + +THE CLOAKED WOMAN. + + +“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!” + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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 _he_ was engaged at the moment. + +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. + +“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-----. + +Suddenly, as I passed through the shadowy shrubs, I felt a hand on my +shoulder. I started back, and unconsciously felt for some weapon. + +“Don’t shoot me, colonel!” said a voice in the darkness, “I am a +friend.” + +I recognized the voice of Nighthawk. + +“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?” + +“I am watching, colonel,” said Nighthawk, with benignant sweetness. + +“Watching?” + +“And waiting.” + +“Waiting for whom?” + +“For a lady with whom you have the honor of being acquainted.” + +“A lady--?” + +“That one you last saw in the lonely house near Monk’s Neck. Hush! here +she comes.” + +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. + +“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--.” + +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. + +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. + +Nighthawk took two quick steps in the direction of the gate. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“Come in,” said the voice of that gentleman; and opening the door I +entered. + + + + +VI. + + +THE HEART OF A STATESMAN. + + +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. + +At sight of me he rose courteously--for he never omitted any form of +politeness--and cordially shook my hand. + +“I am glad to see you, colonel,” he said. “Just from the army? Have a +cigar.” + +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 _Examiner_. + +“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.” + +“My views accord with your own,” I replied. + +“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.” + +“I read the attacks,” I said. + +“Were they not fearful?” said Mr. X-----, smiling tranquilly. “After +reading them, I regarded myself as a moral and political monster!” + +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.” + +“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.” + +And Mr. X----- smiled, and went on smoking. It was the second time he +had uttered that phrase--“in Canada.” + +I laughed now, and said:-- + +“You continue to regard Toronto, or Montreal, or Quebec, as your future +residence?” + +“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.” + +“You adhere more than ever, I see, to your opinion that we are going to +fail?” + +“It is not an opinion, my dear colonel, but a certainty.” + +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. + +“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, _could_ 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.’” + +I could find no reply to these gloomy words. + +“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.” + +“Is it possible that all is lost? That negotiations are our only hope?” + +“Yes; and confidentially speaking--this is a State secret, my dear +colonel--these will soon be made.” + +“Indeed!” + +“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.” + +“Why?” + +“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.” + +“Good heaven! so soon!” + +“Yes.” + +“In three months?” + +Mr. X----- nodded. + +“General Lee may lengthen the term a little by his skill and courage, +but it is not in _his_ power, even, to resist beyond the month of +April.” + +“The army of Northern Virginia, driven by the enemy!” + +“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?” + +“It is frightful!” + +“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 _deserting_, 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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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? _You_ 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!” + + + + +VII. + + +SECRET SERVICE. + + +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. + +Under his cloak I saw the gray uniform of a Confederate soldier; in his +hand he carried a letter. + +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. + +“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. + +“You see I begin a new scene in this comedy,” he said to me in a low +tone. + +And turning to Nighthawk, he said:-- + +“Well, you followed that agreeable person?” + +“Yes, sir,” said Nighthawk, with great respect. + +“She turned out to be the character you supposed? Speak before Colonel +Surry.” + +Nighthawk bowed. + +“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 _us_; and you directed me to be here +to-night, and follow her, after your interview.” + +“Well,” said Mr. X-----, quietly, “you followed her!” + +“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. + +“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. + +“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 _her_. 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?’ + +“‘If there is nothing contraband in it, madam,’ said the clerk. + +“‘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!’ + +“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 _the other letter_, bowed, and said:--- + +“‘There is nothing objectionable in this, madam, and it will be sent, of +course.’ + +“‘I was sure of that, sir,’ replied the lady, with a smile. ‘I am very +much obliged. Good evening, sir!’ + +“And she sailed out, all the clerks politely rising as she did so. + +“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. + +“‘Arrest her!’ exclaimed one of them, suddenly. The rapid rolling of a +carriage came like an echo to his words. + +“‘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.’ + +“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.” + +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. + + + + +VIII. + + +BY FLAG-OF-TRUCE BOAT. + + +MR. X----- took the letter, broke the seal, and ran his eye over the +contents. + +“Decidedly, that woman is a skilful person,” he said; “she fishes in +troubled waters with the coolness of an experienced hand.” + +And presenting the letter to me, the statesman said:-- + +“Would you like to see a specimen of the sort of documents which go on +file in the departments, colonel?” + +I took the letter, and read the following words:-- + +“RICHMOND, 18 _Dec’r_, 1864. + +“Tell, _you know who_, 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.’ + +“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. + +“I shall see the honorable Mr.----- in a day or two again. In the +mean while, I am staying, _incognita_, at the house of our friend, +Mr. Blocque, who has afforded me every facility in return for the +_safeguard_ 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. + +“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 _Fonthill_ is confiscated, we will purchase it, and +live in affluence. + +“LUCRETIA.” + + +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. + +“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.” + +I thanked him, and placed the letter in my pocket. To-day I copy it, +word for word. + +Mr. X----- reflected a moment; then he said to Nighthawk:-- + +“Arrest this woman; I am tired of her. I have no time to waste upon such +persons, however charming.” + +Nighthawk looked greatly delighted. + +“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.” + +“Ah! well, here is the order.” + +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. + +As he did so, the bell in the capitol square struck midnight, and I rose +to take my departure. + +“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. + +“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. + +I returned to my lodgings, buried in thought, pondering deeply on the +strange scenes of this night of December. + +On the next morning I set out, and rejoined the army at Petersburg. + +I, too, was a sentinel on post, like the statesman. And I determined to +remain on duty to the last. + + + + +IX. + + +TO AND FRO IN THE SPRING OF ‘65. + + +The months of January and February, 1865, dragged on, sombre and dreary. + +Two or three expeditions which I made during that woeful period, gave me +a good idea of the condition of the country. + +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. + +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. + +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. _Noblesse oblige_ was their motto; +and they meant to die, musket in hand! + +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! + +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. + +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,-- + + “The heart bowed down by deep despair. + To weakest hopes will cling?” + +Across the years comes once more that magical strain; again I hear your +voice, filled with the very soul of sadness, tell how + + “Memory is the only friend + That grief can call its own!” + +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. + +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! + +Thus, at Staunton and Lynchburg, reader, gay scenes broke the monotony. +In my journey toward North Carolina, I found food also, for laughter. + +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. + +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! + +I had encountered two wagons, and, riding, ahead of them, saw a courier +of army head-quarters, whose name was Ashe. + +I saluted the smiling youth, in return for his own salute, and said:-- + +“Where have you been, Ashe?” + +“To Sussex, colonel, on a foraging expedition.” + +“For the general?” + +“And some of the staff, colonel.” + +Ashe smiled; we rode on together. + +“How did you come to be a forager, Ashe?” I said. + +“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.” + +I assumed that inquiring expression of countenance dear to +story-tellers. Ashe saw it, and smiled. + +“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 _you?_’ 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] + +[Footnote 1: In the words of the narrator.] + +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. + +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? + +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. + +For this page is written on the morning of April 8, 1868. + +This day, three years ago, Lee was staggering on in sight of Appomattox. + + + + +X. + + +AEGRI SOMNIA.--MARCH, 1865. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Enquirer_ +menaced the members of Congress from the Gulf States. The _Examiner_ +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 +_starve you_!” + +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! + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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! + + + + + +XI. + + +I VISIT GENERAL FITZHUGH LEE. + + +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. + +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. + +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 _individual_--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.” + +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! + +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! + +But I can not linger on these scenes. The narrative draws on. + +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?” + +At that question, a beaming smile came to every countenance. + +“Done for!” said one. + +“Captured!” laughed another. + +“Demoralized, subjugated, and negotiating with the enemy!” said a third. + +“Well, where is the place of meeting--where are the terms being +arranged?” I said. + +“At a place called Disaways, on the lower Rowanty!” + +“Good! I know the road there,” I said. + +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. + + + + +XII. + + +BY A FIRE IN THE WOODS. + + +I pushed on, having resolved, after finishing my duties, to visit +Disaways. + +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. + +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 _diablerie_. 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!” + +“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?” + +With that reflection, I dismissed the subject, and pushed on, over the +narrow and winding roads, to make my inspections. + +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. + +He rose and smiled benignantly, as he shook hands with me. + +“An unexpected meeting, Nighthawk,” I said, laughing. “What on earth +makes you come out and camp in the woods?” + +“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!” + +“What?” + +“To be private. I thought my fire could not be seen from the road.” + +“Why should it not be?” + +“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.” + +“Ah, what do you refer to?” + +“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.” + +“Is it possible he has it! Do you know that?” + +“Strangely enough, colonel. Do you remember that woman, Amanda?” + +“Perfectly. I visited her with Mohun.” + +“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.” + +“Yes,” I said. + +“Well, he returned, colonel, but Amanda could tell him nothing--which +you no doubt have heard.” + +“Yes, from him.” + +“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.” + +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? + +“At Mr. Alibi’s,” Amanda had replied; “I only asked you this, Mr. +Nighthawk, to satisfy myself that my visions were true. I _saw_ 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 _must_ 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 _he_ 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.” + +“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.” + +I had listened to this narrative with strange interest. This singular +woman was a curious problem. Were her _visions_ 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. + +“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?” + +“She is safe enough, colonel, and I don’t think she will trouble us +soon.” + +“I am glad of it. I think her the more dangerous of _the two_.” + +“And I agree with you.” + +“When did you see Darke, last?” + +“I have not met him for three months.” + +“He can not be dead?” + +“He may be wounded.” + +“And Mohun--is he at his head-quarters?” + +Nighthawk smiled. + +“He is at Five Forks, to-day, colonel.” + +“And Willie Davenant?” + +“In Richmond, on business at the war department.” + +“Humph! So I shall see neither--but another time.” + +And mounting my horse, I added:-- + +“Good luck, Nighthawk.” + +“Thank you, colonel--the same to you.” + +And leaving Nighthawk crouching down beside his fire, I rode on. + + + + +XIII. + + +DRINKING TEA UNDER DIFFICULTIES. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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 _real bed_, and gone on my way in the morning rejoicing. + +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. + +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! + +Behind Katy appeared the faces of the excellent family, who cordially +greeted me. Behind all appeared the blushing but dandified Tom Herbert. + +“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!” + +“Oh, bother, my dear Surry! what a tongue you have!” exclaimed Tom. + +“I see General Fitz was right, or his staff rather, in what they told +me, Tom.” + +“What did they tell you, my dear boy?” + +“That you were demoralized and captured!” + +Sweet smile on the faces of the family at these words! + +“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?” + +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. + +This caused a diversion, and Tom was enabled to rally his forces. + +“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?” + +I acquiesced in the change of topic, and gave Tom the news; but I was +looking at Katy. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Look out, the Yankees are coming!” he cried. + +I glanced through the window, and recognized a man of Mohun’s command, +who also recognized me. + +“How near are they?” I said, attempting to swallow the burning tea. + +“Not a quarter of a mile off, colonel!” + +“That will give me time,” I said. + +And I applied myself again to the tea, which this time I poured out into +the saucer, in order to cool it. + +“Look out, colonel!” cried the man. + +“Where are they?” + +“At the gate.” + +I finished the tea, and the goblet of cream just as the man shouted:-- + +“Here they are, right on you, colonel!” + +And I heard the sound of a galloping horse, accompanied by shots at the +retreating cavalryman. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Don’t run until you are obliged to, but then run like the ----!” said a +hard-fighting general. + +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!” + +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. + +They did not pursue us far. The Federal cavalry did not like the +Virginia woods. + +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. + +The enemy were not visible, and riding up, we dismounted and entered.[1] + +[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!’”] + + + + +XIV. + + +MR. ALIBI. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“A sudden parting between yourself and Katy, Tom!” I said, as we +galloped on. “A touching spectacle! When will you be married?” + +“In a week or two--to answer seriously, old fellow,” responded Tom. + +“Is it possible!” + +“Even so, my boy.” + +“Here, at Disaways?” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +Tom and myself had gotten into the _mêlée_ 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. + +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.” + +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. + +He had been struck by a bullet in the fight; had flapped his wings; +cackled; tumbled from his horse; and expired. + +Nighthawk’s visit thus went for nothing. + +Mr. Alibi was dead. + + + + +XV. + + +FROM FIVE FORKS TO PETERSBURG. + + +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. + +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 _memoirs_ 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. + +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. + +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! + +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 _his_ +friend, and cannot be a mere ordinary acquaintance to _me_!” + +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. + +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. + +In fact, this was the key to the Southside road. Here was to take place +the last great struggle. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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! + +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! + +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! + +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! + +As the sun began to decline, we rode into Petersburg, and bidding Katy +and Tom adieu, I returned to my Cedars. + +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. + +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. + +“Farewell!” I murmur, “Rowanty, and Sappony, and Disaways! _Bonne +fortune!_ 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 _now_! 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!” + + + + +XVI. + + +LEE’S LAST GREAT BLOW. + + +I reached Petersburg on the evening of March 24, 1865. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +What followed was a fierce tragedy, as brief and deadly as the fall of a +thunder-bolt. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Lee had struck his last great blow, and it had failed. + + + + +XVII. + + +THE WRESTLE FOR THE WHITE OAK ROAD. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +_carrefour_, Lee’s right was turned. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XVIII. + + +THE BRIDEGROOM. + + +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. + +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. + +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 _carrefour_, where, on the night of +the 31st of March, some singular scenes are to be enacted. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was darting by, toward Five Forks, when by the starlight I recognized +Mohun. + +“Halt!” I shouted. + +He knew my voice, and drew rein with an exclamation of pleasure. + +“Thanks, my dear old friend,” he said, grasping my hand. “I knew you +would not fail me.” + +“Your wedding will take place, Mohun?” + +“Yes, battle or no battle.” + +“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?” + +“Our infantry is falling back.” + +“The condition of the roads stopped them?” + +“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.” + +In fact, as we rode on now, I heard the muffled tramp of a column, and +the rattle of artillery chains in the woods. + +“The enemy will follow, I suppose?” + +“Not before morning, I hope.” + +I smiled. + +“Meanwhile you are making good use of the time to get married. What will +you do with Miss Georgia?” + +“You mean Mrs. Mohun, Surry!” he said, smiling. + +“Yes.” + +“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.” + +“You are right. I predict a thundering fight here, in the morning.” + +“Which I hope I shall not balk in, my dear Surry,” said Mohun, smiling. + +“Is there any danger of that?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +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 _that man_, and would not harm _that woman_ 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!’” + +I reached out my hand in the darkness, and pressed that of the speaker. + +“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.” + +“What was that, old friend?” + +“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!” + +“Would that I were!” he murmured, letting his head fall upon his breast. + +“That is much to say of any man; but I will add more. You are worthy of +her--the blossom of Five Forks!” + +As I uttered these words, we reached the gate. + +A moment afterward we had entered the grounds, tethered our horses, and +were hastening to the house. + + + + +XIX. + + +THE CEREMONY. + + +On the threshold we were met by Judge Conway, with a bow and a smile. + +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. + +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. + +As we entered, the clerical-looking gentleman rose, modestly, and +smiled. + +“The Reverend Mr. Hope,” said Judge Conway, presenting him. And Mr. +Hope, with the same gentle smile upon his lips, advanced and shook +hands. + +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: + +“Mr. Hope and myself are old acquaintances, I may even say, old +friends.” + +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 _her brother_? 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 _alluding to his loss_. In a few moments +we were seated, and Judge Conway explained the presence of the parson. + +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. + +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. + +Having exchanged compliments with the clergyman, Mohun and I were shown +to a dressing-room. + +No sooner had the door closed, than I said to Mohun:-- + +“That is strange, is it not?” + +“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 _that woman_ was already married, +when she married _me_--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.” + +“Does he know all?” + +“I think not. I had half resolved to tell him. But there is no time now. +Let us get ready; the hour is near.” + +And Mohun looked at his watch. + +“Nine o’clock,” he said. “The ceremony takes place at ten.” + +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. + +We descended to the drawing-room, where Judge Conway and Mr. Hope +awaited us. + +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. + +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 _grande dame_ 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. + +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. + +In another instant Mohun was standing beside Miss Georgia, and the +ceremony began. + +It was not destined to proceed far. + +The clergyman had nearly finished the exhortation with which the “form +for the solemnization of matrimony,” commences. + +All at I once I was certain that I heard steps on the portico, and in +the hall of the mansion. + +The rest seemed not to hear them, however, and Mr. Hope continued the +ceremony. + +“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.” + +As he uttered the words the door was suddenly burst open, and Darke +entered the apartment with _the gray woman_. + +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:-- + +“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!” + + + + +XX. + + +WHAT OCCURRED AT “FIVE FORKS,” ON THE NIGHT OF MARCH 31, 1865. + + +Mohun turned like a tiger, and was evidently about to throw himself upon +Darke. I grasped his arm and restrained him. + +“Listen!” I said. + +The house was surrounded by trampling hoofs, and clattering sabres. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“Yes, let us converse,” she said, with her eyes riveted upon Georgia +Conway, “nothing can be more pleasant than these sweet family reunions!” + +Judge Conway glanced at the speaker with eyes full of sudden rage. + +“Who are you, madam,” he exclaimed, “who makes this impudent claim of +belonging to my family?” + +“I have already told you,” was the satirical reply of the woman. + +“And you, sir!” exclaimed the old judge, suddenly turning and +confronting Darke, “perhaps you, too, are a member of the Conway +family?” + +“Not exactly,” was the cold reply. + +“Your name, sir!” + +“Mortimer Davenant.” + +Judge Conway gazed at the speaker with stupor. + +“You that person?--you the son of General Arthur Davenant?” + +“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! + +“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. + +“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_ +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.” + +“And--this woman?” said Judge Conway, pale, and glaring at the speaker. + +“Let her speak for herself,” said Darke, coldly. + +“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. + +“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 _lying_--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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +Suddenly a hoarse exclamation was heard, and a poniard gleamed in the +hand of the woman. + +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. + +Furious cries were then heard; the wild trampling of horses; and a loud +voice ordering:-- + +“Put them to the bayonet!” + +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. + +Suddenly the woman uttered a wild cry, and relaxed her grasp upon his +neck. A bullet had buried itself in her bosom. + +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. + +As he reached the bottom, a man rushed upon him, and drove his bayonet +through his breast. It was withdrawn, streaming with blood. + +“Put all to the bayonet!” shouted the voice of General Davenant, as he +charged with his young son, Charles, beside him. + +At that voice Darke stretched out both hands, and dropping his sword, +uttered a cry, which attracted the general’s attention. + +For an instant they stood facing each other--unutterable horror in the +eyes of General Davenant. + +“I am--done for,” exclaimed Darke, a bloody foam rushing to his lips, +“but--I have told him--that _I_ was the murderer--that _you_ were +innocent. Give me your hand, father!” + +General Davenant leaped to the ground, and with a piteous groan received +the dying man in his arms. + +“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!” + +The weeping boy threw himself upon his knees, and pressed his lips to +those of his brother. + +As he did so, the wounded man fell back in his father’s arms, and +expired. + + + + +XXI. + + +FIVE FORKS. + + +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. + +Do you regard that term “heroic,” as merely rhetorical, reader? + +Hear a Northern writer, a wearer of blue, but too honest not to give +brave men their due:-- + +“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 _pas de course_, +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.” + +That is picturesque, is it not? It is amusing, too--though so tragic. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Among those wounded, mortally to all appearances, was Willie Davenant. +He had fought with the courage of the bull-dog which lay _perdu_ 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. + +It was just at nightfall that he fell, with a bullet through his breast. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +She could say no more. + +The surgeon bent over and examined the wound. When he had done so, he +shook his head. + +“His wound is mortal, I am afraid,” he said, “but I will do all I can +for him.” + +And with a rapid hand he stanched the blood, and bandaged the wound. + +The boy had not stirred. He remained still, with his head leaning upon +the girl’s breast. + +“Can he live?” she murmured, in a tone almost inaudible. + +“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.” + +“Then he shall not have to change his position!” exclaimed the girl. + +And, with the pale face still lying upon her bosom, she remained +immovable. + +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. + +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] + +[Footnote 1: Fact.] + +Is there a painter in Virginia who desires a great subject? There it is; +and it is historical. + +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. + +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. + +A month afterward he was convalescent. A week more and he was well. In +the summer of 1865 he was married to Virginia Conway. + +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. + + + + +XXII. + + +“THE LINE HAS BEEN STRETCHED UNTIL IT HAS BROKEN, COLONEL.”. + + +At nightfall, on the first of April, the immense struggle had really +ended. + +Lee’s whole right was swept away; he was hemmed in, in Petersburg; what +remained for General Grant was only to give the _coup de grace_ to the +great adversary, who still confronted him, torn and shattered, but with +a will and courage wholly unbroken. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +In the attack the Federal loss was “about five hundred men,” says the +writer above quoted. + +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. + +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. + +Peace to the ashes of that brave! Old Virginia had no son more faithful! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +They soon gained it; formed line of battle, and charged the guns. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +There was no _hack_ in that remnant--pardon the word, reader; it +expresses the idea. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“This is a bad business, colonel!”[1] I had heard him say, at the moment +when the shell burst near him in the morning. + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +I heard but one other allusion which he made to the situation. + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +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. + + + + +XXIII. + + +WHAT I SAW FROM THE GRAVE OF STUART. + + +Three hours afterward I was in Richmond. + +Sent with a message for General Ewell, I had taken the last train which +left for the capital, and reached the city toward midnight. + +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. + +“Come and wait on me, my dear old friend,” he said; “I am to be married +to-night!” + +And in a few words he informed me that Katy had consented to have the +ceremony performed before Tom followed General Lee southward. + +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] + +[Footnote 1: Real.] + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Ah! gallant to the last, I see!” I growled to him as I rode by. “‘None +but the brave desert the fair!’” + +The colonel smiled, but made no reply. + +A hundred yards farther I met little Mr. Blocque joyously approaching. + +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:-- + +“What! my dear colonel! you are going to leave us? Come and dine with +me--at five o’clock, precisely!” + +My reply was not polite. I drew my pistol--at which movement Mr. Blocque +disappeared, running, at the corner of St. Paul’s. + +On his heels followed a portly and despairing gentleman--Mr. Croaker. + +“Save my warehouse! it is on fire! I shall be a beggar!” yelled Mr. +Croaker. + +I laughed aloud as the wretched creature rushed by, puffing and panting. +Ten minutes afterward I was out of the city. + +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. + +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. + +I turned and shook my clenched hand at it. + +“That is not my flag, and shall never be!” I exclaimed, aloud. + +And taking off my hat as I passed the grave of Stuart, I rode on, +thinking of the past and the present. + + + + +XXIV. + + +THE RETREAT. + + +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. + +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. + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +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! + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“It’s General Lee!” + +“Uncle Robert!” + +“Where’s the man who won’t follow old Uncle Robert!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It is only a small portion of the tragic picture that the present writer +has the heart to paint. + + + + +XXV. + + +HUNTED DOWN. + + +On the morning of the 7th of April, and throughout the 8th, the horrors +of the retreat culminated. + +The army was fighting at every step. Hope had deserted them, but they +were still fighting. + +On every side pressed the enemy like bands of wolves hunting down the +wounded steed. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +That was a brave resistance made by the old army of Northern Virginia, +reader, as it was slowly advancing into the gulf of perdition. + +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] + +[Footnote 1: The Hon. Charles Francis Lawley, in the London _Times_.] + +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. + +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. + +Call it what you will, reader--there was something in those men that +made them fight to the last. + + + + +XXVI. + + +THE LAST COUNCIL OF WAR OF THE ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +The council was brief. + +General Lee succinctly laid before his listeners the whole situation. + +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. + +By the light of the fire, General Lee then proceeded to read the papers +alluded too. + +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. + +Lee had written in reply, requesting Grant to state the terms. + +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. + +There the correspondence had terminated. What was the opinion of his +corps commanders? + +Their replies were brief and informal. The scene was august but simple. +What was determined upon was this--- + +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. + +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. + +This was agreed to, and it will be seen that Fitz Lee availed himself of +the conmmander-in-chief’s permission. + +So ended that last council of war, by the camp fire. + +With grave salutes and a cordial pressure of the brave hands, the famous +soldiers took leave of Lee. + +As they disappeared he drew his blanket around him and fell asleep by +the blazing fire. + +It was the night of April 8th, 1865--three years, day for day, from the +moment when these lines are written. + + + + +XXVII. + + +THE NIGHT BEFORE THE SURRENDER. + + +Throughout that strange night of the eighth of April, 1865, I was in the +saddle, carrying orders. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +For the tough work, Lee had selected three braves. + +I saw them all that night, and read in their eyes the fire of an +unalterable resolution. + +You know those men, reader. If _you_ 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. + +I had just left General Fitzhugh Lee, near Appomattox Court-House, and +was riding through the pines, when a sonorous voice halted me. + +“Who goes there?” said the voice. + +“Surry, Mordaunt!” + +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. + +“Well, old friend,” said Mordaunt, grasping my hand and then leaning +upon my shoulder; “as the scriptures say, what of the night?” + +“Bad, Mordaunt.” + +“I understand. You think the enemy’s infantry is up.” + +“Yes.” + +“Then we’ll have hard work; but we are used to that, Surry.” + +“The work is nothing. It is death only. But something worse than death +is coming Mordaunt.” + +“What?” + +“Surrender.” + +Mordaunt shook his head. + +“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.” + +The proud face glowed. In the serene but fiery eyes I could read the +expression of an unchangeable resolution. + +“Another friend of ours has sworn that too,” he said. + +“Who?” + +“Mohun.” + +“And just married! His poor, young wife, like yours, is far from him.” + +“You are mistaken; she is near him. She went ahead of the army, and is +now at the village here.” + +“Is it possible? And where is Mohun?” + +“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.” + +“I will go and see him. Do nothing rash, to-morrow, Mordaunt. Remember +that poor Old Virginia, if no one else, needs you yet!” + +“Be tranquil, Surry,” he replied, with a cool smile. “Farewell; we shall +meet at Philippi!” + +And we parted with a pressure of the hand. + +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. + +“What are you reading, Mohun?” + +He rose and grasped my hand. + +“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.” + +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. + +“That is _her_ Bible,” I said, “and doubtless you have just parted with +her.” + +“Yes, I see you know that she is here, not far from me.” + +“Mordaunt told me. It must be a great delight to you, Mohun.” + +He smiled, and sighed. + +“Yes,” he replied, “but a sort of sorrow, too.” + +“Why a sorrow?” + +Mohun was silent. Then he said:--- + +“I think I shall fall to-morrow.” + +“Absurd!” I said, trying to laugh, “Why should you fancy such a thing?” + +“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.” + +My head sank. I had taken my seat on Mohun’s cape, and gazed in silence +at the fire. + +“That is a terrible resolution, Mohun,” I said at length. + +“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.” + +And Mohun changed the conversation, refusing to listen to my +remonstrances. + +Half an hour afterward I left him, with a strange sinking of the heart. + +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. + +I was waked by a single gun, sending its dull roar through the gray +dawn. + +Rising, I buttoned my cape around me, mounted my horse, and rode toward +the front. + +As I ascended the hill, upon which stands Appomattox Court-House, a +crimson blush suddenly spread itself over the fields and woods. + +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. + +Such was the spectacle which ushered in the ninth of April, 1865, at +Appomattox Court-House. + + + + +XXVIII. + + +THE LAST CHARGE OF THE OLD GUARD. + + +I rode on rapidly to the front. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration: THE LAST CHARGE] + +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. + +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. + +In five minutes the opponents had closed in, in stubborn fight, and the +woods roared with musketry, cannon, and carbines. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The guns of Carter thundered in vain. Never were cannon fought more +superbly; the enemy were now nearly at the muzzle of the pieces. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A moment afterward a white flag fluttered--the order to surrender had +come. + +What I felt at that instant I can not describe. Something seemed to +choke me. I groaned aloud, and turned toward the cavalry. + +At fifty paces from me I saw Mordaunt, surrounded by his officers and +men. + +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. + +“What will you do, general?” said Mordaunt, saluting with drawn sabre. + +Fitzhugh Lee uttered a groan. + +“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] + +[Footnote 1: His words.] + +Mordaunt saluted again, as General Lee and his staff officers turned +away. + +“We’ll go out sword in hand!” Mordaunt said. “Let who will, follow me!” + +A wild cheer greeted the words. The men formed column and charged. + +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. + +In an instant I was at Mohun’s side. + +“You are going to charge!” I said. + +“And die, Surry! A gentleman gives his word but once!” + +And, following Mordaunt with long leaps, Mohun and his horsemen burst +upon the enemy. + +Then was presented a spectacle which made the two armies hold their +breath. + +The column of cavalry under Mordaunt and Mohun, had struck the Federal +line of battle. + +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. + +Then a thundering shout rose. The smoke was swept away by the wind, and +made all clear. + +Mordaunt had cut his way through, and was seen to disappear with a dozen +followers. + +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. + +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. + +The new-comer was Nighthawk. + +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. + +Then, plunging the spurs into his animal, he turned to fly. But his last +hour had come. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +An hour afterward, all was still. On the summit of the Court-House hill +a blue column was stationary, waving a large white flag. + +General Lee had surrendered. + + + + +XXIX. + + +THE SURRENDER. + + +Lee had surrendered the army of Northern Virginia. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +They are known. On the tenth they were carried out. + +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. + +Two days after the surrender, Mohun was still alive. + +Three months afterward, the welcome intelligence reached me that he was +rapidly recovering. + +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:-- + +“Take your pistol, and shoot me!” + +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. + +“No,” he said, “Johnny Reb, you might get well!” + +[Footnote: These details are all real.] + +And glancing at the paper on Mohun’s breast, he passed on, muttering-- + +“It’s a general!” + +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-- + +_“This is the body of General Mohun, C.S.A.”_ + +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. + +I was the possessor of a paper, which I still keep as a strange +memorial. + +“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!” + +At the top of this document, was, “Appomattox Court-House, Va., April, +10, 1865.” On the left-hand side was, “Paroled Prisoner’s Pass.” + +So, with his pass, the paroled prisoner passed slowly across Virginia to +his home. + +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. + +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! + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + +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. + +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. + +It was a veritable journey through the world of memory. + +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. + +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.” + +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! + +“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.” + +So I went on, and in due time reached the Oaks, in Fauquier. + +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! + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +“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! + +The Oaks was like home to me, for the somebody with violet eyes, and +chestnut hair, was here to greet me. + +The sun is setting, and we wander in the fields touched by the dreamy +autumn. + +“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!” + +“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!” + +“Stop, sir! People would think we were two foolish young lovers.” + +“Young lovers are not foolish, madam. They are extremely intelligent.” + +Madam laughs. + +“Yonder is the primrose from which I plucked the bud,” she says. + +“That sent me through Stuart’s head-quarters in April, 1863?” I say. + +“Yes; you have not forgotten it I hope.” + +“Almost; Stay! I think it meant ‘Come,’--did it not?--And you sent it to +me!” + +Madam pouts beautifully. + +“You have ‘almost forgotten’ it! Have you, indeed, sir?” + +“These trifles will escape us.” + +May loses all her smiles, and her head sinks. + +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. + +“Look!” I say, with a smile, “it said ‘Come,’ once, and it brings me +back again to the dearest girl in the world!” + +A tear falls from the violet eyes upon the faded flower, but through the +tears burst a smile! + +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! + +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. + +As she goes the sun sinks behind the forest. But it will rise, as she +will, to-morrow! + +The smiling Colonel Beverly meets me on the threshold, with a note in +his hand. + +“A servant has just brought this,” he says, “it is from your friend, +Mordaunt.” + +I opened the note and read the following words:-- + +“_My dear Surry_:-- + +“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 + +“Your comrade, + +“Mordaunt.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I had shaken hands with Mordaunt, but I advanced and “saluted” madam, +and the cheek was suddenly filled with exquisite roses. + +“For old times’ sake, madam!” + +“Which are the best of all possible times, Surry!” said Mordaunt, +laughing. + +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. + +“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. + +“See! here they are!” + +The door opened, and I saw enter--Mohun and Landon! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Seated in front of a cheerful blaze, we smoked and talked--Mordaunt, +Mohun, Landon, and myself--until the shades of evening drew on. + +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! + +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, _Hilt to +Hilt_. + +Mohun’s face was no less smiling. He had lost every trace of gloom. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“He was a faithful friend; and to be killed on that very last morning +was hard. But many were. _You_ had a narrow escape, Mohun.” + +“Yes, and was only preserved by a Bible.” + +“A Bible?” + +“Do you remember that I was reading by the camp fire, when you came to +visit me on the night preceding the surrender?” + +“Yes--in your wife’s Bible.” + +“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.” + +As he spoke, Mohun drew from his breast the small leather-bound volume, +in the cover of which was visible a deep gash. + +He looked at it with a smile, and said:--- + +“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.” + +He drew out the scrap, which was dirty and discolored with blood. + +Upon it was written in pencil, the words:-- + +“This is the body of General Mohun, C.S.A.” + +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. + +“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!” + +In an hour I was at the “Oaks.” + +A month afterward, I had returned to “Eagle’s Nest.” + +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. + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + +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 8424-0.txt or 8424-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/4/2/8424/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. 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