"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 ofApril."
"The army of Northern Virginia, driven by the enemy!"
"Forced to surrender, or annihilated; and in Virginia--it will neverjoin Johnston. Its numbers are too small to cut a path through theenemy. 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 thelast moment; he will retreat; be intercepted; be hunted down towardLynchburg, 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, anddisgusted with the manner in which we manage things. No recruits arearriving. The troops are not _deserting_, but they are leaving the armywithout permission, to succor their starving families. Lee's last hoursare approaching, and we are playing the comedy here in Richmond with animmense appearance of reality; dancing, and fiddling, and laughing onthe surface of the volcano. I play my part among the rest. I risk myhead more even, perhaps, than the military leaders. I take a philosophicview, however, of the present and future. If I am not hung, I will go toCanada; meanwhile, I smoke my cigar, colonel."
And Mr. X----- lazily threw away his stump, and lit a fresh Havana. Itis impossible to imagine any thing more careless than his attitude. Thisman 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 witha 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, intones so deep and solemn that they made me start; "I am playing my partwith the rest; I play it in public, and even in private, as beforeyou to-night. I sit here, indolently smoking and uttering my jests andplatitudes, 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 theworld--not a foot but is dear and sacred, and a vulgar horde are aboutto trample it under foot, and enslave its people. Every pulse of mybeing throbs with agony at the thought! I can not sleep. I have lostall taste for food. One thought alone haunts me--that the land ofWashington, Jefferson, Mason, Henry, and Randolph, is to become thehelpless prey of the scum of Europe and the North! My family has livedhere for more than two hundred years. I have been, and am to-day,proud beyond words, of my birthright! I am a Virginian! a Virginianof Virginians! I have for forty years had no thought but the honor ofVirginia. I have fought for her, and her only, in the senate and cabinetof the old government at Washington. I have dedicated all my powers toher--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 aboutto be trampled upon, her great statues hurled down, her escutcheonblotted, her altars overturned! And I, who have had no thought but herhonor and glory, am to be driven, at the end of a long career, to aforeign land! I am to crouch yonder in Canada, with my bursting browin my two hands--and every newspaper is to tell me 'the negro and thebayonet rule Virginia!' Can you wonder, then, that I am gloomy--thatdespair 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, inarms for Virginia!"
VII.
SECRET SERVICE.
The statesman leaned back in his great chair, and was silent. At thesame moment a tap was heard at the door; it opened noiselessly, andNighthawk glided into the apartment.
Under his cloak I saw the gray uniform of a Confederate soldier; in hishand he carried a letter.
Nighthawk saluted Mr. X----- and myself with benignant respect. Hisquick eye, however, had caught the gloomy and agitated expression of thestatesman's countenance, and he was silent.
"Well," said Mr. X-----, raising his head, with a deep sigh. Thenpassing 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 thecommencement of our interview.
"You see I begin a new scene in this comedy," he said to me in a lowtone.
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 ColonelSurry."
Nighthawk bowed.
"I never had any doubt of her character, sir," he said. "You willremember that she called on you a week ago, announcing that she wasa spy, who had lately visited the Federal lines and Washington. Youdescribed her to me, and informed me that you had given her anotherappointment for to-night; when I assured you that I knew her; she was anenemy, who had come as a spy upon _us_; and you directed me to be hereto-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 affairsin Washington, she got into her carriage, and the driver startedrapidly, going up Capitol and Grace streets. I followed on foot, and hadto run--but I am used to that, sir. The carriage stopped at a house inthe upper part of the city--a Mr. Blocque's; the lady got out, tellingthe driver to wait, and went into the house, where she staid for abouthalf an hour. She then came out--I was in the shadow of a tree, not tenyards from the spot, and as she got into the carriage, I could see thatshe 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 thewar office.' The driver mounted his box, and set off--and crossing thestreet, I commenced running to get a-head. In this I succeeded, andreached the bureau five minutes before the carriage.
"Well, sir, I hastened up stairs, and went into the bureau, wherethree or four clerks were examining the letters left to be sent by theflag-of-truce boat to-morrow. They were laughing and jesting as theyread aloud the odd letters from the Libby and other prisons--some ofwhich, I assure you, were very amusing, sir--when the lady's footstepswere heard upon the stairs, and she came in, smiling.
"I had turned my back, having given some excuse for my presence to oneof 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 ofmy eyes, see _her_. She came in, in her rich gray cloak, smiling on theclerks, and handing an open letter to one of them, said:--"'Will youoblige me by sending that to my sister in New York, by the flag-of-truceboat, 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. Mysister is a Southerner, and so am I, sir. You can read the letter; it isnot very dangerous!'
"And she smiled so sweetly that the clerk was almost ashamed to readthe letter. He, however, glanced his eye over it, and evidently foundnothing wrong in it. While he was doing so, the lady walked toward themail-bags in which the clerks had been placing such letters as theyfound unobjectionable, the others being marked, 'Condemned,' and throwninto a basket. As she passed near one of the bags, I saw the lady, whomI was closely watching, flirt her cloak, as though by accident, acrossthe mouth of one of the mail-bags, and at the same instant her handstole 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, ofcourse.'
"'I was sure of that, sir,' replied the lady, with a smile. 'I am verymuch 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 hadseen her drop the letter. The clerks wished to stop me, but I informedthem of what I had
seen. If they doubted, they could see for themselvesthat the letter, which I had easily found, was not sealed with the sealof the bureau. They looked at it, and at once acknowledged their error.
"'Arrest her!' exclaimed one of them, suddenly. The rapid rolling of acarriage came like an echo to his words.
"'It is useless, gentlemen,' I said. 'I know where to find the lady, andwill look to the whole affair. You know I am in the secret service, andwill be personally responsible for every thing. I will take this letterto 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 cameaway; returned as quickly as possible; and here is the letter, sir."
With which words Nighthawk drew his hand from under his cloak, andpresented the letter to Mr. X-----, who had listened in silence to hisnarrative.
VIII.
BY FLAG-OF-TRUCE BOAT.
MR. X----- took the letter, broke the seal, and ran his eye over thecontents.
"Decidedly, that woman is a skilful person," he said; "she fishes introubled 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 onfile 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 fullyconvinced that I am a good Confederate, and spoke without reserve ofmatters the most private. He is in high spirits, and looks on the rebelcause as certain to succeed. I never saw one more blinded to the realstate of things. Richmond is full of misery, and the people seem indespair, but this high official, who represents the whole government, isevidently certain of Lee's success. I found him in a garrulous mood,and he did not conceal his views. The government has just receivedheavy supplies from the south, by the Danville railroad--others arecoming--the whole country in rear of Sherman is rising--and Lee, hestated, would soon be re-enforced by between fifty and seventy-fivethousand men. What was more important still, was a dispatch, whichhe read me, from England. This startled me. There seems no doubt thatEngland is about to recognize the Confederacy. When he had finishedreading this dispatch, on the back of which I could see the Englishpostmark, he said to me--these are his words:--'You see, things werenever brighter; it is only a question of time; and by holding out alittle longer, we shall compel the enemy to retire and give up thecontest. With the re-enforcements coming, Lee will have about onehundred thousand men. With that force, he will be able to repulse allGeneral Grant's assaults. Things look dark at this moment, but the causewas never more hopeful.'
"He seemed insane, but I give you his words. It is certain that theseare the views of the government, and that our authorities are muchmistaken in supposing the Confederacy at its last gasp. It is impossiblethat the honorable Mr.----- was attempting to deceive me; because Icarried him a letter from -----" (here the writer gave the name of aprominent official of the Confederate Government, which I suppress)"who vouched for me, and declared that I was passionately Southern in mysympathies.
"I shall see the honorable Mr.----- in a day or two again. In themean 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 occupyRichmond. 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 often thousand dollars in good money. He is in despair.
"As soon as I have finished some important private business, which keepsme in the Confederate lines, I shall be with ----- again. Tell him tobe in good spirits. This city has still a great deal of money hoardedin garrets--and we shall soon be here. Then we can retire on acompetence--and when _Fonthill_ is confiscated, we will purchase it, andlive in affluence.
"LUCRETIA."
I looked at the back of the letter. It was directed to a lady inSuffolk. From the letter, my glance passed to the face of Mr. X-----. Hewas smiling grimly.
"A valuable document," he said, "which madam will doubtless duplicatebefore very long, with additional particulars. I make you a present ofit, 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 suchpersons, however charming."
Nighthawk looked greatly delighted.
"I was going to beg that order of you, sir," he said, "as the 'privatebusiness' 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 toNighthawk. A glow of satisfaction came to that worthy's face, and takingthe paper, he carefully placed it in his pocket.
As he did so, the bell in the capitol square struck midnight, and I roseto take my departure.
"Come and see me soon again, colonel," said Mr. X-----, going to thedoor with me. He had made a sign to Nighthawk, who rose to go out withme, 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 amquite sure that to have it repeated at this time would be inconvenient.Be discreet, therefore, my dear friend--after the war, tell or writewhat 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 theroar--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 haveplaced me on duty here. I will stay, whatever comes, until I am relievedby 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 thestrange 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 toremain 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 mea good idea of the condition of the country.
In September, 1864, I had traversed Virginia from Petersburg toWinchester, and had found the people--especially those of the lowerShenandoah Valley--still hopeful, brave, resolved to resist to thedeath.
In January and February, 1865, my official duties carried me to theregion around Staunton; to the mountains west of Lynchburg; and to theNorth Carolina border, south of Petersburg. All had changed. EverywhereI found the people looking blank, hopeless, and utterly discouraged. Theshadow of the approaching woe seemed to have already fallen upon them.
The army was as "game" as ever--even Early's little handful, soon tobe struck and dispersed by General Sheridan's ten thousand cavalry.Everywhere, the soldiers laughed in the face of death. Each seemed tofeel, as did the old statesman with whom I had conversed on that nightat Richmond, that he was a sentinel on post, and must stand there tothe last. The lava might engulf him, but he was "posted," and must standuntil relieved, by his commanding officer or death. It was the "poorprivate," in his ragged jacket and old shoes, as well as the officer inhis braided coat, who felt thus. For those private soldiers of the armyof 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 hundredb
attles!--who fought with them from Manassas, in 1861, to Appomattox,in 1865--you are the real heroes of the mighty struggle, and one comradesalutes you now, as he looked at you with admiration in old days! WhatI saw in those journeys was dreary enough; but however black may be thewar-cloud, there is always the gleam of sunlight somewhere! We laughednow and then, reader, even in the winter of 1864-'5!
I laugh still, as I think of the brave cannoneers of the horse artillerynear Staunton--and of the fearless Breathed, their commander, jestingand playing with his young bull-dog, whom he had called "Stuart" for hiscourage. I hear the good old songs, all about "Ashby," and the "PalmettoTree," and the "Bonnie Blue Flag"--songs sung with joyous voices inthat dreary winter, as in other days, when the star of hope shone morebrightly, and the future was more promising.
At Lynchburg, where I encountered a number of old friends, songs stillsweeter saluted me--from the lips of my dear companions, Major Grayand Captain Woodie. How we laughed and sang, on that winter night, atLynchburg! 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 yourvoice, 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. Thememory of our great victories was all that was left to us; and I thoughtthat it was the spirit of grief itself that was singing. Again I hearthe notes--but "Nora McShane" breaks in--"Nora McShane," the mostexquisite of all Gray's songs. Then he winds up with uproarious praiseof the "Bully Lager Beer!"--and the long hours of night flit away on thewings of laughter, as birds dart onward, and are buried in the night.
Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins. Page 44
