"Yes, colonel," he went on, "the three or four months which have passedsince your last visit, have cleared away all mists from _my_ eyes atleast, and put an end to all my dreams--among others, to that projectwhich I spoke of--the purchase and restoration of the family estate ofStafford. It will never be restored by me. Like Randolph, I am the lastof my line."
And with eyes full of a profound melancholy, the speaker gazed into thefire.
"I am passing away with the country," he added. "The cause is going tofail. I give it three months to end in, and have sent for a prominentsenator, who may be able to do something. I intend to say to him, 'Thetime has come to make the best terms possible with the enemy,' and Ishall place the columns of the _Examiner_ newspaper at his disposal toadvocate that policy."[1]
[Footnote 1: This, I learned afterward, from the Hon. Mr. -----, wasduly done by Mr. Daniel. But it was too late.]
"Is it possible!" I said. "Frankly, I do not think things are sodesperate."
"You are a soldier, and hopeful, colonel. The smoke blinds you."
"And yet General Lee is said to repudiate negotiations with scorn. Heis said to have lately replied to a gentleman who advised them, 'Formyself, I intend to die sword in hand!'"
"General Lee is a soldier--and you know what the song says: 'A soldier'sbusiness, boys, is to die!'"
I could find no reply to the grim words.
"I tell you the cause is lost, colonel!" with feverish energy, "lostirremediably, at this moment while we are speaking! It is lost fromcauses which are enough to make the devil laugh, but it is lost all thesame! When the day of surrender, and Yankee domination comes--whenthe gentlemen of the South are placed under the heel of negroes andYankees--I, for one, wish to die. Happy is the man who shall have gotteninto the grave before that day![1] Blessed will be the woman who hasnever given suck![2] Yes, the best thing for me is to die--[3] and Iam going to do so. I shall not see that _Dies Irae_! I shall be in mygrave!"
[Footnote 1: His words.]
[Footnote 2: His words.]
[Footnote 3: His words.]
And breathing heavily, the journalist again leaned back in his chair, asthough about to faint.
An hour afterward, I terminated my visit, and went out, oppressed andgloomy.
This singular man had made a reluctant convert of me to his own darkviews. The cloud which wrapped him, now darkened me--from the blackfuture 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, Shermantelegraphed to Lincoln:--
"I beg to present you, as a Christmas gift, the city of Savannah, withone hundred and fifty guns, and plenty of ammunition, and also abouttwenty-five thousand bales of cotton."
In January, Wilmington fell.
Toward the end of the same month, John M. Daniel was a second timeseized with pneumonia, and took to his bed, from which he was neveragain to rise. He would see no one but his physician and a few chosenfriends. All other persons were persistently denied admittance to hischamber. Lingering throughout the remainder of the winter, as springapproached, life seemed gradually leaving him. Day by day his pulsegrew weaker. You would have said that this man was slowly dying withthe cause for which he had fought; that as the life-blood oozed, dropby drop, from the bleeding bosom of the Southern Confederacy, the lastpulses of John M. Daniel kept time to the pattering drops.
One morning, at the end of March, his physician came to see him, andfound him lying on the outer edge of his bed. Not wishing to disturbhim, the physician went to the window to mix a stimulant. All at once anoise attracted his attention, and he turned round. The dying man had,by a great effort, turned completely over, and lay on his back in themiddle of the bed, with his eyes closed, and his arms folded on hisbreast, 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 wasburied in Hollywood, just in time to escape the tramp of Federal feetaround 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 designingto set out early in the morning for Petersburg, I bent my steps towardhome.
The night was not however to pass without adventures of anothercharacter.
I was going along Governor Street, picking my way by the light of thefew gas-lamps set far apart and burning dimly, when all at once I hearda cry in front, succeeded by the noise of a scuffle, and then by a heavyfall.
Hastening forward I reached the spot, which was not far from the CityHall; and a glance told me all.
A wayfarer had been garroted; that is to say, suddenly attacked whilepassing along, by one of the night-birds who then infested the streetsafter dark; seized from behind; throttled, and thrown violently to theground--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. Onehand of the garroter was on his throat, the other was busily rifling hispockets.
I came up just in time to prevent a murder, but not to disappoint therobber. As I appeared he hastily rose, releasing the throat of theunfortunate citizen. I saw a watch gleam in his hand; he bestowed aviolent kick on his prostrate victim;--then he disappeared running, andwas in an instant lost in the darkness.
I saw that pursuit would be useless; and nobody ever thought, at thatperiod, of attempting to summon the police. I turned to assist thevictim, 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 clenchedhands, and maligning all created things! Mr. Blocque, devoting,with loud curses and imprecations, the assembled wisdom of the "cityfathers," and the entire police force of the Confederate capital, to theinfernal deities!
"I am robbed--murdered!" screamed the little Jewish-looking personage,in a shrill falsetto which resembled the shriek of a furious oldwoman, "robbed! rifled!--stripped of every thing!--garroted!--mymoney taken!--I had ten thousand dollars in gold and greenbacks on myperson!--not a Confederate note in the whole pack--not one! gold andgreenbacks!--two watches!---I am ruined! I will expose the police! I wasgoing to my house like a quiet citizen! I was harming nobody! and I amto be set on and robbed of my honest earnings by a highwayman--choked,strangled, knocked down, my pockets picked, my money taken--and this inthe 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 littleblockade-runner, with disordered hair, dirty face, torn clothes, andbleeding nose, uttering curses, and moaning in agony over the loss ofhis "honest earnings!"
I consoled him in the best manner I could, and asked him if he had lostevery thing. That question seemed to arouse him. He felt hastily in hispockets,--and then at the result my eyes opened wide. Thrusting his handinto a secret pocket, he drew forth an enormous roll of greenbacks, andI 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. Butthe worthy Mr. Blocque did not seem in the least consoled.
"He got _the other bundle_!" shrieked the victim, still in his wildfalsetto; "it was ten thousand dollars--I had just received it thisevening--I am robbed!--they are going to murder me!--Where is thepolice!--murder!"
I laid my hand upon his arm.
"You have lost a very considerable sum," I said, "but--you may lose morestill."
And I pointed to the roll of bank notes in his hand, with a significantglance. At these words he started.
"You are right, colonel!" he said, hastily; "I may be attacked again! Imay be robbed of all--they may finish me
! I will get home as quickly asI 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--laughingheartily.
V.
THE CLOAKED WOMAN.
"Well," I said, as I walked on, "this is a charming adventure andconveys a tolerably good idea of the city of Richmond, after dark, inthe year 1864. Our friend Blocque is garroted, and robbed of his'honest earnings,' at one fell swoop by a footpad! The worthy citizen iswaylaid; his pockets rifled; his life desolated. All the proceeds ofa life of virtuous industry have disappeared. Terrible condition ofthings!--awful times when a good citizen can not go home to his modestsupper of canvas-backs and champagne, without being robbed by----hisbrother robber!"
Indulging in these reflections, not unaccompanied with smiles, Icontinued my way, with little fear, myself, of pickpockets or garroters.Those gentry were intelligent. They were never known to attack peoplewith gray coats--they knew better! They attacked the black coats, in thepockets of which they suspected the presence of greenbacks and valuablepapers; never the gray coats, where they would find only a frayed "leaveof absence" for their pains!
I thus banished the whole affair from my mind; but it had aroused andexcited me. I did not feel at all sleepy; and finding, by a glance at mywatch beneath a lamp, that it was only half past ten, I resolved to goand ask after the health of my friend, Mr. X-----, whose house was onlya square or two off.
This resolution I proceeded at once to carry out. A short walk broughtme to the house, half buried in its shrubbery; but as I approached I sawa carriage was standing before the house.
Should I make my visit then, or postpone it? Mr. X----- evidently hadcompany. Or had the carriage brought a visitor to some other member ofthe household? Mr. X----- was only a boarder, and I might be mistaken insupposing that _he_ was engaged at the moment.
As these thoughts passed through my mind, I approached the gate in theiron 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 motionlessfigure. The vehicle and driver were as still and silent as if carved outof ebony.
"Decidedly I will discover," I said, and opening the gate I turned intothe winding path through the shrubbery, which led toward the rear of thehouse; 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 myshoulder. I started back, and unconsciously felt for some weapon.
"Don't shoot me, colonel!" said a voice in the darkness, "I am afriend."
I recognized the voice of Nighthawk.
"Good heavens! my dear Nighthawk," I said, drawing a long breath ofrelief, "you are enough to make Alonzo the Brave, himself, tremble?You turn up everywhere, and especially in the dark! What are you doinghere?"
"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! hereshe comes."
His voice had sunk to a whisper, and he drew me into the shrubbery, asa long bar of light, issuing from the door in the rear of the house, ranout into the night.
"I am going to follow her," whispered Nighthawk, placing his lips closeto my ear, "she is at her devil's work here in Richmond, as Swartzwas--."
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 ina gray cloak.
She passed so close to us that the skirt of her cloak nearly brushed ourpersons, and disappeared toward the gate. The iron latch was heard toclick, the door of the carriage to open and close, and then the vehiclebegan to move.
Nighthawk took two quick steps in the direction of the gate.
"I am going to follow the carriage, colonel," he whispered. "I havebeen waiting here to do so. I will tell you more another time. Give myrespects to General Mohun, and tell him I am on his business!"
With which words Nighthawk glided into the darkness--passed through thegate without sound from the latch--and running noiselessly, disappearedon the track of the carriage.
I gazed after him for a moment, said to myself, "well this night is tobe full of incident!"--and going straight to the door in the rear ofthe house, passed through it, went to the door of Mr. X-----'s room, andknocked.
"Come in," said the voice of that gentleman; and opening the door Ientered.
VI.
THE HEART OF A STATESMAN.
Mr. X----- was seated in front of an excellent coal fire, in his greatarmchair, near a table covered with papers, and between his lips was theeternal cigar.
At sight of me he rose courteously--for he never omitted any form ofpoliteness--and cordially shook my hand.
"I am glad to see you, colonel," he said. "Just from the army? Have acigar."
And he extended toward me an elegant cigar-case full of Havanas, whichhe took from the table. I declined, informing him that I had beensmoking 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 veryremarkable man. I do not approve of the course of his paper, and hehas attacked me very bitterly on more than one occasion. But I bear nogrudge against him. He is honest in his opinions. I admire the pluck ofthe 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. "Itis only ignoramuses who deny this man's courage and ability. I havenever done injustice to Daniel--and I call that 'liberal' in myself,colonel! He has flayed me alive on three or four occasions, and it isnot his fault that I am enjoying this excellent Havana."
"I read the attacks," I said.
"Were they not fearful?" said Mr. X-----, smiling tranquilly. "Afterreading them, I regarded myself as a moral and political monster!"
I could not forbear from laughing as the portly statesman uttered thewords. He seemed to derive a species of careless enjoyment from therecollection of his "flayings."
"I expect to talk over these little affairs with Daniel hereafter," hesaid. "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 hehad uttered that phrase--"in Canada."
I laughed now, and said:--
"You continue to regard Toronto, or Montreal, or Quebec, as your futureresidence?"
"Yes; I think I prefer Quebec. The view from Cape Diamond is superb; andthere is something English and un-American in the whole place, which Ilike. The Plains of Abraham bring back the history of the past,--whichis 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 tofail?"
"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 evenattempt 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 thusdiscouraging a soldier, who is fighting for this cause. A year ago Iwould not have spoken to you thus, for a year ago there was still somehope. Now, to discourage you--if thinking men, fighting for a principle,like yourself, _could_ be discouraged--would result in no injury: forthe cause is lost. On the contrary, as the friend of that most excellentgentleman, your father, I regard it as a sort of duty to speak thus--tosay to you 'Don't throw away your life for nothing. Do your duty, but dono more than your duty, for we are doomed.'"
I c
ould find no reply to these gloomy words.
"The case is past praying for," said Mr. X----- composedly, "the wholefabric of the Confederacy at this moment is a mere shell. It is goingto crumble in the spring, and another flag will float over the Virginiacapitol yonder--what you soldiers call 'The Gridiron.' The countryis tired. The administration is unpopular, and the departments aremismanaged. I am candid, you see. The days of the Confederacy arenumbered, and worse than all, nobody knows it. We ought to negotiatefor the best terms, but the man who advises that, will be hissed at andcalled a 'coward.' It is an invidious thing to do. It is much grander toshout 'Death sooner than surrender!' I shouted that lustily as long asthere was any hope--now, I think it my duty as a statesman, and publicfunctionary, to say, 'There are worse things than death--let us try andavoid them by making terms.' I say that to you--I do not say so on thestreets--the people would tear me to pieces, and with their sources ofinformation 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 dearcolonel--these will soon be made."
"Indeed!"
"You think that impossible, but it is the impossible which invariablytakes place in this world. We are going to send commissioners to meetMr. Lincoln in Hampton Roads--and it will be useless."
"Why?"
"We are going to demand such terms as he will not agree to. Thecommissioners will return. The war will continue to its legitimatemilitary end, which I fix about the last days of March."
Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins. Page 43
