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

by John Esten Cooke

  As we rode on, I looked attentively at him. I scarcely recognized, inthe personage beside me, the Mohun of the past. His gloom so profoundon that night when I parted with him, after the expedition to the lonelyhouse beyond Monk's Neck, had entirely disappeared; and I saw in himas few traces of the days on the Rappahannock, in Pennsylvania, andthe Wilderness. These progressive steps in the development of Mohun'scharacter may be indicated by styling them the first, second, and thirdphases of the individual. He had entered now upon the third phase, and Icompared 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 hardenedhim, and made him hate his species. In the bloom of early manhood, whenhis life was yet in the flower, and should have prompted him to all kindand 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, Iasked myself--withering and destroying it? What thunder-bolt had struckthis sturdy young oak? I could not answer--but from the first moment ofour acquaintance, Mohun became for me a problem.

  Then the second phase presented itself. When I met him in theWilderness, in May, 1864, a great change had come over him. He was nolonger bitter and cynical. The cloud had plainly swept away, leaving theskies of his life brighter. Gayety had succeeded gloom. The rollickingenjoyment of the true cavalryman had replaced the recklessness of theman-hater. Again I looked at him with attention--for his courage hadmade me admire him, and his hidden grief had aroused my sympathy. Agreat weight had plainly been lifted from his shoulders; he breathedfreer; the sap long dried up had begun to flow again; and the buds toldthat the leaves of youth and hope were about to reappear. What was themeaning of that?

  Now the third phase of the man had come to excite in me more surpriseand interest than the former ones. This time the change was complete.Mohun seemed no longer himself. Was the man riding beside me the oldMohun of 1863? Where was the gloomy misanthropy--where the rollickinghumor? They had quite disappeared. Mohun's glance was gentle and hiscountenance 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 ofearnestness and sweetness. The heaven-born spirit of kindness--that balmfor 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 ofhim, formerly, "This is a man who fights from hatred of his enemies, orthe exuberant life in him." Now you would have said, "This is a patriotwho 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? Orwas it the conviction which the Almighty sends to the most hardened,that life is not made to indulge hatred, but to love and perform ourduty in?

  I knew not; but there was the phenomenon before me. Mohun was certainlya new man, and looked on life and the world around him with a gentlenessand 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 examinedthis 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 scoutingparty who are clearing the country. Their pickets are back to Reams's bythis 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, therewas no Federal picket.

  The bridge--a long rough affair--had been half destroyed by GeneralHampton; but we forded near it, pushed our horses through the swamp,amid the heavy tree trunks, felled to form an abatis, and gainingthe opposite bank of the Rowanty, rode on rapidly in the direction ofPetersburg, 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 gentleuplands, and beneath the festoons of the great vines trailing from treeto tree, brought us in front of a small house, half buried in a clump ofbushes, like a hare's nest amid brambles.

  "We have arrived!" said Mohun, leading the way to the cabin, which wesoon reached.

  Throwing his bridle over a bough near the low fence, Mohun approachedthe door on foot, I following, and when close to the door, he gave a lowknock.

  "Come in!" said a cheerful and smiling voice.

  And Mohun opened the door, through which we passed into a small and veryneat apartment containing a table, some chairs, a wide fireplace,in which some sticks were burning, a number of cheap engravings ofreligious scenes, framed and hanging on the wall, and a low bed, uponwhich lay a woman fully dressed.

  She was apparently about thirty-five, and her appearance was exceedinglycurious. Her figure was slender and of medium height; her complexionthat of a Moorish or oriental woman, rather than that of the quadroon,which she appeared to be; her hair black, waving, and abundant; hereyes as dark and sparkling as burnished ebony; and her teeth of dazzlingwhiteness. Her dress was neat, and of bright colors. Around her neckshe wore a very odd necklace, which seemed made of carved bone; and herslender fingers were decorated with a number of rings.[1]

  [Footnote 1: "I have endeavored to give an exact description of thissingular woman." Colonel Surry said to me when he read this passage tome: "She will probably be remembered by numbers of persons in both theFederal and Confederate armies. These will tell you that I describe heraccurately, using her real name, and will recall the strange predictionwhich 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 andsweetness, as we entered. She did not rise from the bed upon which shewas lying; but her cordial smile clearly indicated that this did notarise from discourtesy.

  "Take seats, gentlemen," she said, "and please excuse me from gettingup. 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, friendlyvoice:--

  "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 havetold me what you were like, sir, and then I _saw you_ to know youafterward."

  I looked at the speaker attentively. Was she an impostor? It wasimpossible to think so. There was absolutely no evidence whatever thatshe was acting a part--rather every thing to forbid the supposition, asshe 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 youreally _see_ things before they come to pass--
or are you only amusingyourself, and others, by saying so? I see no especial harm in thematter, if you are jesting; but tell me, for my own satisfaction andthat 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 andColonel 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 thisincomprehensible being. Was she really a witch? I do not believe inwitches, and at once rejected that theory. If not an impostor, then,only one other theory remained--that Nighthawk had described my personto her, in the same manner that he had Mohun's, and the woman might thusbelieve 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 thecolloquy, 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 mybed moaning, and moving my arms about,--and when I wake, after theseattacks, I remember seeing the visions."

  "I hear that you predicted General Hunter's attack on Lexington lastJune."

  "Yes, sir, I told a lady what _I saw_, some months before it came topass."

  "What did you see? Will you repeat it for us?"

  "Oh, yes, sir. I remember all, and will tell you about it, as it seemsto interest you. I saw a town, on the other side of the mountain, whichthey afterward told me was called Lexington--but I did not know its namethen--and a great army of men in blue dresses came marching in, shoutingand cheering. The next thing I saw was a large building on fire, andthrough the windows I saw books burning, with some curious-lookingthings, of which I do not know the names."

  "The Military Institute, with the books and scientific apparatus," saidMohun, calmly.

  "Was it, sir? I did not know."

  "What did you see afterward, Amanda?"

  "Another house burning, sir; the Federal people gave the ladies tenminutes 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--alarge house, sir--and took every thing. Among the things they took was astatue, 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, andhad 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, thatall 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 strangewoman smiled as sweetly as she spoke, and seemed as far from beingguilty 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 mankilled 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, wateringtheir horses in a large river somewhere west of here, and the visionsaid 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 searchedhis memory to recall the exact words of this singular woman: and thathe had given the precise substance of her statements; often, the exactwords.--ED.]

  Mohun, who had taken his seat on a rude settee, leaned his elbow on hisknee, and for some moments gazed into the fire.

  "I have asked you some questions, Amanda," he said at length, "relatingto public events. I _now come to some private matters_--those whichbrought me hither--in which your singular visions may probably assistme. 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 singularwoman, who sustained it, however, with no change in her calm and smilingexpression.

  "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 sothey 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. Heis a terrible man, they say."

  "You can speak to me, Amanda. I will repeat nothing; nor will ColonelSurry."

  The singular woman looked from Mohun to me, evidently hesitating. Thenshe seemed suddenly to make up her mind, and said, with her eternalsmile:--

  "I will tell you, then, sir. I can read faces, and I know neither younor 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 toknow, General Mohun."

  As she spoke she closed her eyes, and seemed for some moments to bereflecting. Then opening them again, she gazed, with her calm smile, atMohun, and said:--

  "It was many years ago, sir, when I first saw Colonel Darke, who thenwent by another name. I was living in this same house, when late oneevening a light carriage stopped before the door, and a gentleman gotout of it, and came in. He said he was travelling with his wife, who hadbeen taken sick, and would I give them shelter until morning, when shewould be able to go on? I was a poor woman, sir, as I am now, and hopedto 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 Iwould go into that closet-like place behind you, sir. Well, he thankedme, and went back to the carriage, where a lady sat. He took her in hisarms and brought her along to the house, when I saw that she was a verybeautiful young lady, but quite pale. Well, sir, she came in and satdown in that chair you are now sitting in, and after awhile, said shewas better. The gentleman had gone out and put away his horse, and whenhe came back I had supper ready, and every thing comfortable."

  "What was the appearance of the lady?" said Mohun, over whose brow acontraction 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 waslittle--and went on toward the south."

  "They seemed poor?"

  "Yes, sir. The lady's dress was cheap and faded--and the gentleman'sthreadbare."

  "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 theyremained with you until the morning. Did you not hear some of theirconversation--gain some knowledge of whence they came, whither they weregoing, and what was the object of their journey?"

  The woman hesitated, glancing at Mohun. Then she smiled, and shook herhead.