Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins.

by John Esten Cooke

  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 theguns spouted flame; shell after shell in rapid succession screamedthrough the woods--and bursting in the midst of the blue groups, threwthem into the wildest disorder.

  Stuart did not allow the panic to subside. His sharp-shooters openedat the same instant a determined fire; the great cavalier went atfull 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 gunsfollowing, broke out; and were again free.

  Stuart was out of the trap. From one of the "tightest places" that acommander was ever in he had extricated his whole command.

  Once in safety, he turned like a wild boar on his enemies. In tenminutes his artillery had taken a new position--its thunders hadopened--its roar told the army, that his feather still floated, his starwas still in the ascendant.

  Such was that queer affair of Auburn. Few more curious incidentsoccurred 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 tothe 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, onthat evening at Warrenton Springs, when Stuart charged through the ford.

  "Hurrah for Stuart!" was now the exclamation everywhere. And let me addthat the stout cavalier keenly enjoyed his popularity. He was brave andfond of glory--approbation delighted him. In his ears, praise, sympathy,admiration, sounded sweet.

  General Lee continued to press forward, but the golden moment forintercepting Meade had fled.

  He had not been cut off in Culpeper; he had not been cut off atWarrenton; 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 blowwas 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 heavyrepulse.

  General Cooke was shot down at the head of his men; the brigade wasnearly cut to pieces; and Warren retreated across Deep Run, in grimtriumph, carrying off several pieces of Hill's artillery.

  It was a grievous blow, and affected the brave Hill deeply. General Leewas 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 andGeneral Hill were riding over the field, and Hill essayed to explain theunfortunate affair, the commander-in-chief shook his head, and said ingrave tones:--

  "Say no more, general--have these poor dead soldiers buried."

  From the hill above Bristoe, General Lee, accompanied by Stuart, lookedout in the direction of Manassas. Not a blue coat was to be seen. Meadehad made good his retreat. Everywhere he had eluded the blows of hisgreat adversary--and in parting from him, finally, at Bristoe, had leftblood in his foot-steps--the blood of some of Lee's best soldiers.

  It is said that General Meade made this retreat under protest--andthat he was everywhere looking for a position to fight. A Northerncorrespondent described how, sitting with him by the camp-fire, GeneralMeade 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 ofCentreville: Lee had stopped the pursuit.

  There was nothing more, indeed, to be done. Lee must retire, or attackthe enemy behind their earth-works. That was not very promising, and hefell back toward his old camps, on the Rapidan.

  Nothing prevented the cavalry, however, from "feeling" the enemy intheir new position; and Stuart rapidly advanced to Bull Run, acrosswhich 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 ofMeade, and throwing it into confusion, by producing the impression thathis force was Lee's whole army, he quietly retired by the way he hadcome.

  His disappearance revealed all. The enemy perceived that the attackwas only a "cavalry raid," and were seized with immense indignation. Apicked division was sent out in pursuit of the daring raiders--and thisforce of horsemen, about three thousand in number, hurried across BullRun to punish Stuart.

  They were commanded by the ardent General Kilpatrick:--what followed isknown as the "Buckland Races."

  IX.

  WHAT THE AUTHOR HAS OMITTED.

  Such is a rapid summary of the cavalry operations succeeding the actionof Bristoe.

  Those readers who cry out for "movement! movement!" are respectfullyrequested to observe that I have passed over much ground, and manyevents in a few paragraphs:--and yet I might have dwelt on more than onescene which, possibly, might have interested the worthy reader.

  There was the gallant figure of General Fitz Lee, at the head ofhis horsemen, advancing to charge what he supposed to be the enemy'sartillery 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 astrange figure mingled just at dusk with the staff, and when arrested ashe 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, whenStuart rode along laughing and shouting his camp songs, with the raindescending in torrents from his heavy brown beard.

  There was the splendid advance on the day succeeding, through the richautumn forest, of all the colors of the rainbow.

  Then the fight at Frying-Pan; arousing the hornets' nest there, and thefeat performed by Colonel Surry, in carrying off through the fire ofthe sharp-shooters, on the pommel of his saddle, a beautiful girl whodeclared that she was "not at all afraid!"

  These and many other scenes come back to memory as I sit here at Eagle'sNest. But were I to describe all I witnessed during the war, I shouldnever cease writing. All these must be passed over--my canvas islimited, 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 immensereceptacle--it holds every thing, and often trifles take the prominentplace, instead of great events. You are interested in those trifles,when they are part of your own experience; but perhaps, they bore yourlistener and make him yawn--a terrible catastrophe!

  So I pass to some real and _bona fide_ "events." Sabres are going toclash now, and some figures whom the reader I hope has not forgotten aregoing 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 hismustached lip, which in due time I was going to understand.

  Kilpatrick was following him. From the rear guard came the crack ofskirmishers. It seemed hard to understand, but the fact was perfectlyevident, that Stuart was retreating.

  I had fallen out of the column, and was riding with Tom Herbert. Haveyou forgotten that worthy, my dear reader? Has the roar of Gettysburgdriven him quite from your memory? I hope not. I have not mentionedhim for a long time, so many things have diverted me--but we had riddentogether, slept together, fought together, and starved together! Tom hadcome to be one of my best friends, in fact, and his charmin
g good humorbeguiled many a weary march. To hear him laugh was real enjoyment; andwhen 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 garcon_! I wish I couldsee you and hear you sing again!

  But I am prosing. Riding beside Tom, I was looking down and thinkingof a certain young lady, when an exclamation from my companion made meraise 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 hospitablemansion in which we had eaten the famous supper, on the route toPennsylvania.

  "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 thevisit.

  That conquered me. I never could refuse Tom Herbert any thing; and wewere soon cantering toward the house.

  Leaving our horses in a little grove, near the mansion, in order thatthey might not attract the attention of any of the enemy's vedettes, wehastened up the steps.

  As we reached the door, it opened, and Miss Katy Dare, the heroine ofTom's dreams, very nearly precipitated herself into our arms.

  "Oh, I am so glad to see you!" she exclaimed, with her auburn ringletsdancing, her eyes sparkling,--and taking care to look at _me_ as sheuttered 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 intendto leave them in the Yankee lines again? Oh, no! he could not! He couldnot have the heart to! Was he coming to see them? Oh, the sight of grayuniforms was HEAVENLY!!!

  And the young damsels positively overwhelmed me with exclamations andinterrogatories. Eyes danced, lips smiled, cheeks glowed--they hungaround me, and seemed wild with enthusiasm and delight.

  Around _me_, I say--for Tom and Miss Katy had accidentally strolled intoa conservatory near at hand. A glass door gave access to it, and theyhad "gone to examine the flowers," the young ladies said, with rapturoussmiles and little nods.

  Meanwhile, "the wants of the soldiers" were by no means forgotten. Busyhands brought in china, silver, and snowy napkins. On the table thewaiter was soon deposited, containing a splendid, miraculous arrayof edibles, and these were flanked by decanters containing excellenthome-made wine.

  This consumed half an hour--but at last the repast was ready, and one ofthe young ladies hastened toward the conservatory, uttering a discreetlittle "ahem!" which made her companions laugh.

  In an instant Tom made his appearance with a decided color in hischeeks; 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 ofthe 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 anotherdescription.

  The fates frowned on us. Tom was unlucky that day, and I was drawn intothe vortex of bad fortune.

  Suddenly a clatter of hoofs came from the grass plat in front of thehouse; the rattle of sabres from a company of cavalry followed; and theyoung ladies had just time to thrust us into the conservatory, whenthe 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 graywoman.

  There was no mistaking that powerful figure, of low stature, butherculean proportions; that gloomy and phlegmatic face, half-coveredwith the black beard; and the eye glancing warily, but with a recklessfire in them, from beneath the heavy eye-brows.

  The woman wore an elegant gray riding habit--gray seemed a favorite withher. Her cheeks were as white as ever, and her lips as red. Her bearingwas perfectly composed, and she advanced, with the long riding skirtthrown over her arm, walking with exquisite grace.

  All this I could easily see. The glass door of the conservatory had beenleft ajar in the hurry of our retreat, and from behind the lemon-treesand flower-bushes, we could see into the apartment without difficulty.

  There was evidently little danger of our discovery. The new-comers hadplainly entered the house with no design to search it. Darke advancedinto the apartment; made the ladies a bow, which more than everconvinced me that he had been familiar with good society; and requestedfood for the lady. She had tasted none for many hours, and was faint. Hewould 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 tothe waiter, and without speaking, they left the apartment.

  Darke was left alone with the woman in gray. She seemed to have regardedceremony as unnecessary. Going to the table, she had already helpedherself, and for some moments devoured, rather than ate, the food beforeher.

  Then she rose, and went and took her seat in a rocking-chair near thefire. Darke remained erect, gazing at her, in silence.

  The lady rocked to and fro, pushed back her dark hair with the snowyhand, 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 ofaccompanying 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 inten 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," shesaid. And her voice which had at first been gay and careless, assumed amocking accent, making the nerves tingle. "I can explain in a very fewwords 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 notpromise me that?"

  Darke looked at the speaker with grim admiration.

  "You are a singular woman," he said; "you never forget a wrong. And yetthe 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 youhate 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, whereveryou met him--in the dark--in the back--I think you would dance thewar-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--Iexpected you to kill him on that night in Pennsylvania. You promised todo 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 friendMohun--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 onhim 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 ofthat description against Colonel Mohun. I will fight him wherever I meethim 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 amoment after, seizing the decanter, he dashed some of its contents intoa 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 thegloomy eyes. Beneath burned a lurid fire.