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, aftera disaster. And I thought I read the same thought in his face at thismoment.
But it was impossible. He had no troops. The entire line on the right ofPetersburg had been broken to pieces, and General Lee retired slowlyto his inner works, near the city where a little skirmish line, fullof 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; itexpresses the idea.
"Let 'em come on! We'll give 'em ----!" shouted the ragged handful. Idare not change that rough sentence. It belongs to history. And it wasglorious, if rude. In front of that squad was a whole army-corps. Thecorps was advancing, supported by a tremendous artillery fire, to crushthem--and the tatterdemalions defied and laughed at them.
This all took place before noon. Longstreet had come in from the northof the James with his skeleton regiments; and these opposed a bold frontto the enemy on the right, while Gordon commanding the left, below thecity, was thundering. A cordon hemmed in the little army now, in thesuburbs of Petersburg. The right, on the Boydton road, was carriedaway; and the left beyond James River. One hope alone remained--to holdPetersburg until night, and then retreat.
I will not describe that day. This volume approaches its end; and itis fortunate. To describe at length those last days would be a terribletask to the writer.
Lee telegraphed to the President that he was going to retreat thatnight; and at the moment when the officers of the government hastilyleft Richmond by the Danville railroad, the army at Petersburg began toretire.
Did you witness what I describe, reader? What a spectacle!--the army ofNorthern Virginia, or what was left of it, rather, stealing away amiddarkness. I sat my horse on the Hickory road, north of the Appomattox,near the city, and looked at the ragged column, which defiled by fromthe 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 moreon the march, with Lee, riding his old iron-gray, in front of his oldsoldiers--with the battle-flags of a hundred battles still floatingdefiantly.
General Lee stood at the forks of the road, directing his column. He hadsaid little during the day, and said little now, but his voice was ascalm and measured, his eye as serene as before.
"This is a bad business, colonel!"[1] I had heard him say, at the momentwhen 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 beenstretched until it has broken."[1]
[Footnote 1: His words.]
So, over the Hickory road, leading up the northern bank of theAppomattox, in the direction of Lynchburg--amid the explosion ofmagazines, surging upward like volcanoes, the old army of NorthernVirginia, 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 whichleft for the capital, and reached the city toward midnight.
The first person whom I saw was Tom Herbert, who ran to meet me. Hisface 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 marriedto-night!"
And in a few words he informed me that Katy had consented to have theceremony performed before Tom followed General Lee southward.
Half an hour afterward I witnessed a singular spectacle: that of awedding, past midnight, in the midst of hurry, confusion, uproar,universal despair--the scene, a city about to fall into the hands of theenemy--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--thesweet smile was as endearing. When I took an old friend's privilege tokiss the smiling lips, there was no tremor in them, and her blue eyeswere as brave as ever.
So Tom and Katy were married--and I bestowed upon them my paternalblessing! It was a singular incident--was it not, reader? But war isfull of such.
I did not see Tom again until I met him on the retreat. And Katy--I havenever seen her sweet face since--but heaven bless her!
An hour afterward I had delivered my message to General Ewell, who wasalready moving out with his small force to join Lee. They defiled acrossthe bridges, and disappeared. For myself, tired out, I wrapped my capearound 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 tothe window, saw that the city was in flames. The explosion had beencaused, doubtless, by blowing up the magazines, or the rams in JamesRiver. The warehouses and bridges had been fired in anticipation of theapproach of the enemy.
It behooved me to depart now, unless I wished to be captured. I hadtaken the precaution to provide myself with a horse from one of thegovernment stables; the animal stood ready saddled behind the house; Ibade my alarmed friends farewell, and mounting, rode through the streetsof the devoted city toward the Capitol, amid bursting shell from thearsenal, exploding magazines, and roaring flames.
I can not describe the scenes which followed. They were terrible andwould present a fit subject for the brush of Rembrandt. Fancy crowdsof desperate characters breaking into the shops and magazines ofstores--negroes, outcasts, malefactors, swarming in the streets,and shouting amid the carnival. The state prison had disgorged itsconvicts--the slums and subterranean recesses of the city its birdsof the night--and now, felons and malefactors, robbers, cut-pursesand 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 blueskies of spring.
Then from the Capitol hill, where I had taken my stand, I saw by theearly light, a spectacle even more terrible--that of the enemyentering the city. They came on from Charles City in a long bluecolumn resembling a serpent. Infantry and troopers, artillery andstragglers--all rushed toward the doomed city where they were met by ahuge crowd of dirty and jabbering negroes and outcasts.
Suddenly a shout near at hand, thundered up to the hill. In front of theExchange a column of negro cavalry, with drawn sabres rushed on. As theycame, they yelled and jabbered--that was the darkest spectacle of all.
I remained looking at the frightful pageant with rage in my heart, untilthe 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 thewestern 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 twoladies leaning upon his arms.
"Ah! gallant to the last, I see!" I growled to him as I rode by. "'Nonebut 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 littlegentleman was radiant, and exclaimed as he saw me:--
"What! my dear colonel! you are going to leave us? Come and dine withme--at five o'clock, precisely!"
My reply was not polite. I drew my pistol--at which movement Mr. Blocquedisappeared, running, at the corner of St. Paul's.
On his heels followed a portly a
nd 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 ofStuart. The spectacle before me was at once terrible and splendid. Thecity was wrapped in a sea of flame. A vast black cloud swept away to thefar horizon. A menacing roar came up from beneath those flames surgingaround the white Capitol;--the enemy's guns, troopers, musketeers andthe rabble, were rushing with shouts, yells, and curses into the devotedcity, 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, Ihad turned my horse to ride westward, throwing a parting glance upon thecity, when suddenly the Virginia flag descended from the summit of theCapitol 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 Irejoined on the evening of the 4th, as it was crossing the Appomattoxopposite Amelia Court-House.
It reached that village on Wednesday April 5th, and you could see at aglance that its spirit was unbroken. As to General Lee, his resolutionup to that time had astonished all who saw him. Never had he seemed inmore buoyant spirits.
"I have got my army safe out of its breastworks," he said, "and in orderto follow me, my enemy must abandon his lines, and can derive no furtherbenefit 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 hislittle handful of about fifteen thousand men could be called such--Leewas still the great cavalier. The enemy had not yet checkmated him: hisheart of hope was untouched. He would cut his way through, and the redflag should again float on victorious fields!
The army responded to the feeling of its chief. The confidence of themen in Lee was as great as on his days of victory. You would have saidthat the events of the last few days were, in the estimation of thetroops, only momentary reverses. The veterans of Hill and Longstreetadvanced steadily, tramping firm, shoulder to shoulder, with glitteringgun barrels, and faces as resolute and hopeful as at Manassas andChancellorsville.
"Those men are not whipped," said a keen observer to me, as he lookedat the closed-up column moving. And he was right. The morale of thisremnant of the great army of Northern Virginia was untouched. Those whosaw them then will testify to the truth of my statement.
At Amelia Court-House a terrible blow, however, awaited them. GeneralLee had ordered rations to be sent thither from North Carolina. They hadbeen 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 braveforehead. Some one had, indeed, struck a death-blow at him. His armywas without food. All his plans were reversed. He had intended toreprovision 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 hisfront; cut his way through there; cross the Nottoway and other streamsby means of pontoons, which had been provided; and, forming a junctionwith 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 rationswere not found at Amelia Court-House; the army must have food, ordie; half the force was dispersed in foraging parties throughout thesurrounding country, and the delay gave Grant time to mass heavily inLee'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 asclearly now, that there was no hope of his cutting his way throughGrant's army. It was there in his front--the failure of rations hadcaused 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 menfell by the roadside, or dropped their muskets as they tottered on. Thewagons were drawn by skeleton mules, without food like the soldiers. Ifan ear of corn was found, the men seized and munched it fiercely, likeanimals. Covered with mud, blackened with powder, with gaunt frames, andglaring eyes, the old guard of the army of Northern Virginia still stoodto 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 topieces. The blue horsemen and infantry pressing fiercely on all sides,and hunting their opponents to the death, seemed, at this moment, tohave delivered a blow from which the Confederates could not rise. Theattack had fallen like a thunderbolt. Ewell, Anderson, and CustisLee were swept away by mere weight of numbers; the whole army seemedthreatened with instant destruction.
Lee suddenly appeared, however, and the scene which followed wasindescribable. He had rushed a brigade across, riding in front on hisiron-gray; and at that instant he resembled some nobleman of the old ageon the track of the wild-boar. With head erect, face unmoved, eyesclear and penetrating, he had reached the scene of danger; and as thedisordered remnants of Ewell's force crowded the hill, hot and panting,they had suddenly seen, rising between them and the enemy, a wall ofbayonets, flanked by cannon.
A great painter should have been present then. Night had fallen, and thehorizon was lit up by the glare of burning wagons. Every instant rose,sudden and menacing, the enemy's signal rockets. On the summit of thehill, where the infantry waited, Lee rode among the disordered men ofEwell, 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 facesflushed; the gaunt hands were clenched. On all sides explosions ofrage 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 leadthem against the enemy.
No attack was made on them. An hour afterward the army moved again--therear covered by General Fitzhugh Lee with his cavalry, which, at everystep, 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 theheart to narrate what followed in the next two days? A great army dyingslowly--starving, fighting, falling--is a frightful spectacle. I thinkthe memory of it must affect even the enemies who witnessed it.
It is only a small portion of the tragic picture that the present writerhas the heart to paint.
XXV.
HUNTED DOWN.
On the morning of the 7th of April, and throughout the 8th, the horrorsof the retreat culminated.
The army was fighting at every step. Hope had deserted them, but theywere still fighting.
On every side pressed the enemy like bands of wolves hunting down thewounded steed.
Gordon and Longstreet, commanding the two skeleton corps of infantry,and Fitzhugh Lee the two or three thousand cavalry remaining, met theincessant attacks, with a nerve which had in it something of the heroic.
Fitz Lee had commanded the rear guar
d on the whole retreat. All alongthe route he had confronted the columns of Sheridan, and checked themwith heavy loss.
At Paynesville he had driven Sheridan back, killing, wounding, andcapturing two hundred of his men. At Highbridge he captured sevenhundred and eighty more, killing many, among the rest the FederalGeneral Read. On the morning of the 7th, beyond the river, he drove backa 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. "Itbecame necessary to burn hundreds of wagons. At intervals the enemy'scavalry dashed in and struck the interminable train, here or there,capturing and burning dozens on dozens of wagons. Hundreds of mendropped from exhaustion, and thousands let fall their muskets frominability to carry them any farther. The scenes were of a nature whichcan be apprehended in its vivid reality only by men who are thoroughlyfamiliar with the harrowing details of war. Behind, and on either flank,a ubiquitous and increasingly adventurous enemy; every mud-hole andevery rise in the road choked with blazing wagons; the air filled withthe deafening reports of ammunition exploding, and shell bursting whentouched by the flames; dense columns of smoke ascending to heaven fromthe burning and exploding vehicles; exhausted men, worn-out mules andhorses, lying down side by side; gaunt famine glaring hopelessly fromsunken lack-lustre eyes; dead mules, dead horses, dead men, everywhere;death many times welcomed as God's blessing in disguise--who can wonderif many hearts tried in the fiery furnace of four unparalleled years,and never hitherto found wanting, should have quailed in presence ofstarvation, fatigue, sleeplessness, misery, un-intermitted for five orsix days, and culminating in hopelessness?"[1]
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