Bethany : a tale of the old South / by Thomas E. Watson

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WHERE NELLIE LIVED AND DIED.

B ETHA NY
A STOEY OF THE OLD SOUTH
BY
THOMAS E. WATSON
AUTHOR OF THE LIFE AND TIMES OF THOMAS JEFFEB8OX THE STORY OF FRANCE, AMD NAPOLEON
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1905

COPTRISHT, 1904, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY Published October,
ii

TO
THE MAGNANIMOUS MEN OF THE NORTH WHO ARE WILLING TO LEARN THE TRUTH ABOUT THE SOUTH

PREFACE
the effort to show the state of opinion and of feeling in the South immediately prior to the Civil War, it seemed to me that no method could be better than to let the historical characters speak for them selves. Into the mouths of Toombs, Stephens, Johnston, and others I have put their real sentiments, though I have seldom used their own words.
The Herschel V. Johnston speech, in the Milledgeville convention, is the author's creation. After all my inquiries, I could only discover fragments of that notable address. Judge Joel Branham remem bered the first sentence and the manner of its deliv ery. Hon. Fleming G. du Bignon was able to furnish the concluding sentence, and the first words of Gen eral Jackson's reply. These remnants have been faithfully used.
The author is aware of the anachronism of men tioning John Quincy Adams as he is mentioned in the text, but the license is more apparent than real. The heated discussions of the Forties are so closely interwoven with those of the Fifties that the com promise of 1850 may be considered a mere lull in the
[ vii ]

PREFACE

storm. Any treatment of the agitation which led to the Civil War must include John Quincy Adams, if it

would claim to be thorough.

Andrew Jackson upheld the State of Georgia in

her defiance of national law; on the Cherokee Indian

matter; but he threatened'South Carolina with coer

cion when our sister State took a similar position.

How

will

the

student

reconcile

this

inconsistent ,

in

Jackson ? He will ignore human nature as a factor

in historytj if he does not make allowance for the bitter feud which sprang up between Jackson and

Calhoun after the Cherokee episode.

In like manner, the conduct of John Quincy

Adams must be judged. Southern Democracy the

slave-driver, if you will had denied him a second

term; and he was so resentfully angry about it that

he imitated the bad example set by his father, in re

fusing to witness the inauguration of his successor.

The remainder of his life was consecrated to a crusade

against slavery, the peculiar institution of the section

which had driven him from office.

Human nature is often a sorry old thing at best;

and we are not always as virtuous in chastising the

sins of a neighbor who has made us angry as we sup

pose ourselves to be. At any rate, it is considerably

easier to administer heroic doses of medicine to an

enemv than to a friend.

In the letters of Alexander H. Stephens frequent

reference is made to Mr. Adams, and the ex-President

PREFACE
is described as not only aggressive in his measures, but as offensive in manner. Stephens states that there was in the words and voice of Adams the " yarring " tones of one who wished to provoke and goad and defy the voice and manner of a man who wanted to stir up a fight.
Consequently, I considered it proper to allude to Mr. Adams's share in arousing the South, and to allude to the political disappointment which probably had some influence upon his temper and conduct.
The entire first part of Bethany is devoted to the conditions existing from 1856 to 1861. The author thought it best not to mix personal narrative with these tremendous political issues and move ments.
In the second part of the book, no effort has been made to manufacture an intricate plot and to work it out to a happy conclusion. My purpose being to make a true picture of the times and the people, I have let what actually happened appear in the book as it happened. It is only in conventional novels that lovers invariably reach sunshine and marriage. In real life, they are too often lost in the mists, and go their separate ways in the dark.
The story itself is simply that of a young Con federate Volunteer who met death in the service having loved and lost a Southern girl of rare promise. and beauty. The few tragic facts are so sacred to me that I would not juggle with them to entertain

PREFACE

the reader, even if I could. It has contented me

to

tell

the

storr t/

as

it

occurred,

-

x

and

I

am

not

with-

out hope that there are hearts to which it will appeal.

The book is frankly Southern in tone, but not

offensively so, I trust. If it contains a single bitter

paragraph, it is there by inadvertence.

The author once heard Henrv Ward Beecher lee,
ture in the city of Augusta. The South had never

loved Beecher. He was one of the " political preach

ers " who had so vigcorouslty/ assailed us./ and who had advised the Sharp's Rifle Programme in Kansas;

but he had come before us to deliver his message,

and the audience regarded him with decorous atten

tion. Almost his first utterance was one of distinct

Northern sentiment, not pleasant for us to hear.

He saw this and felt it; but instead of compromise

or qualification, he gave his head a shake of defi

ance, and there was the challenge of a fighter in

his voice as he thundered, " I am a Yankee of the

Yankees! "

Then we cheered him, for his pluck and his

candor had won us as no apology would have done.

It is upon the same generous instinct of human

nature that I rely in frankly putting the Southern

case, as though I were " a Rebel of the Rebels."

tTntil we thoroughly understand one another

Xorth and South we shall never reach that respect

for honest differences of opinion which is the neces

sar condition to a sincere reconciliation. If I did

PREFACE
not believe that this book tended to such an undeiv standing, I could never have let it go forth.
When it shall have gradually dawned upon all Korthern writers that the Southern States in 1860 did no more than exercise a right which had been almost universally conceded from the founding of the Government^a right in which the seceders be lieved, and which the provocation seemed to call for the use of then, perhaps, we shall have historical literature which does not stigmatize us as rebels and our leaders as traitors. JsTot till that time comes will there be the complete reconciliation which should be the supreme desire of all patriots.
THOMAS E. WATSON.
THOMSON, GA., Aug. 23, 1904.

CONTENTS

PART FIRST

BEFORE THE CLASH OF ARMS

CHAPTER

PAQ

I. OUR OLD HOME ........ 3

II. Two OF MY HEROES ....... 24

III. A POLITICAL BARBECUE ...... 51

IV. THE BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON . . . . . 79

V. OUR LAST HOPE . . . . . . . . 104

PART SECOND

A CHEROKEE ROSE

I. AT NELLIE ROBERTS'S HOME ..... 127

II. To THE FRONT FOR OUR FLAG MAKASSAS . . 141

III. RALPH AND NELLIE AGAIN ..... 163

IV. ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT .

171

V. A NEW PASTOR ........ 207

VI. NELLIE AND THE PREACHER ..... 221

VII. RALPH AND HIS WOUND . . . . . . 243

[xiii]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
VIII. AGAIN IN THE OLD CHURCH

IX. TIRED OF THE WAR .

.X. As WAR LOOKED TO THOSE AT HOME

XI. A LIEUTENANT .

XII. "GooD-BY SWEETHEART" .

XIII. BACK IN CAMP .

XIV. CHANCELLORSVILLE ,

XV. IT is FINISHED .

':

PAGE
. 254 . 279 . 293 . 306 . 316 . 330 . 345 . 364

I

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE
Where Nellie lived and died . . . Frontispiece

Mandy . . . . . . . .

. .14

Alexander H. Stephens ....... 26

Robert Toombs . . . . . .

. .58

Liberty Hall, the home of Alexander H. Stephens, in

Georgia .......... 94

My Uncle Ralph . . . . . . . . . 128

BEFORE THE CLASH OF ARMS

CHAPTER I

OUR OLD HOME

JUST as the facts were I will relate them to you:

just as conditions were in the South, before the war,

I will describe them to you: just how we felt and

acted, during the cruel conflict between the States,

I will try to make plain.

It is a true tale that I am going to tell you not

fiction. The people whom you will meet in the book

were real as you are real. They did not live in

fancy, and walk the ways of imagination: their lives

were held in the stern grip of the actual, and their

feet trod the ups and downs of practical experience*

Yes: it is a true tale true in,the word; true in the

deed; in the heartthrob of the old time; in the smiles which dimpled the cheek; in the tears which scalded

the face.

Let me begin at the beginning.

We Hortons were a family of middle-class farmers.

We had never been anything else. We never ex

pected to be anything else. Our condition was good

enough for us. We had plenty of land. We had

always had it. From the time that the original

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BETHANY
Horton came down into East Georgia, along with a Quaker Colony, from Xorth Carolina, which took possession of a tract of forty thousand acres, we had occupied the comfortable position of local landowners. The Quaker colony had come and founded the old town of Wrightsboro long before the Revolutionarytt "War. The Indians were still in the woods at that time. "Whether my ancestral Qua kers bought out the aborigines with a string of glass beads, or whether they imitated the methods by which the Friars, in the Philippines, secured lands that have recently cost Uncle Sam seven millions of dollars, I do not know. It answers my immediate purpose to say that they got it.
The colony prospered. They cleared off the forest, put the levels into cultivation, fenced the fields, and raised cattle in the outer world. They built their dwellings close to the springs; and the graveyards gen erally occupied the best building sites in the com munity. They gave their own names to the creeks Hart's Creek, Upson's Creek, Germany Creek, and so forth and Maddox Creek preserves to this day the name of my original Georgia ancestor on my mother's side.
The Hortons had grown tobacco on their farms until Eli Whitney, Jesse Bull, Nathan Lyons, Daniel Pratt, and several others, invented the cotton-gin. Then they began to grow cotton. But they never failed to make it their object to produce on the farm the neces-

OUR OLD HOME
sary supplies: tobacco or cotton being merely the sur plus crop, the "money" crop.
Yes: we had prospered: and had always been inde pendent. We were not rich, you understand: just comfortable; with good farms, fat stock, and likely niggers. We owed no debts; we had a few hundred of dollars in pocket, ready for an emergency such as a request'for a loan to some friend who might have got into a temporary "tight" by betting on the wrong horse, or by trying to make four queens beat a straight flush.
In such cases, the neighbor was welcome to the money. Perhaps he might give his "Promisserry" note for it. Oftener, he did not. To take a "Promis serry" note was considered very formal if not exact ing. Such a thing as requiring a mortgage from a friend, in one of these loans of accommodation, was unheard of. And to sue on one of the "Promisserry" notes, actually to hire a lawyer, file papers in court, and have the Sheriff riding about serving Process, why, it would create more of a sensation throughout the community than any ordinary shooting scrape.
Times have changed. We have more money now adays, more everything, everywhere, than our fore fathers had. East, West, North, South, we glory in our progress and our wealth.
Sometimes I wonder whether those old fogies, our ancestors, did not get more out of life than we do. If they didn't but enough of that.

BETHANY
I was a little boy just beginning to run about, when I can first remember. My father had died of pneu monia the March after the September in which I was born. We lived, mother and I, with my grandfather, whose wife had been dead many years. Up to the time he died, my father had managed the farm as over seer: and that is how we came to be living there.
Mother kept house for grandfather, whose children had married and moved off, except the youngest a dashing, manly, stripling named Ralph. He was rather more than sixteen years old; and he made a great pretense of cultivating his mind at the "Wrightsboro Academy, six miles distant.
So far as we came into touch with the outside world at all, we were indebted to Bethany a little, onehorse hamlet, where we worshipped and got the mail. Bethany had a granite depot on the Georgia Railroad. Bethany had a Post-office. Bethany had a dry-goods store, and two doggeries. Any one who wished to run a horse race, fight chickens, play poker, or throw "chuck-a-luck," could do so at Bethany. In the grocery which stood on the flat, called the "slashes," they could show you the spot where Dick Hattaway had cut the life out of Abe McDonald with a bowie-knife. There were places, also, where respectable citizens had shot at others equally respectable, but as there were several of these places, and they were lacking in individuality, nobody cared particularly to see them.
There were two churches in Bethany Baptist and
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OUR OLDHOME
Methodist. The community was strongly Baptist, though the Methodists were gaining ground. We Hortons were strongly Baptist always had been, as far back as we could recollect. It was the family faith, you understand, and we came by it naturally, as we did by our blue eyes, tawny hair, freckled faces, and tall stature. What the Baptist creed was, precisely, none o'f us knew; but, whatever it was, it was ours, arid we were for it strong. We perhaps maintained a hazy notion that our forefathers had examined into the matter, at some time or other, and had become satisfied that the Baptist creed was just as good as any other (if not better) and had taken it into the Horton household, as an heirloom.
At all events, it was too late now to be scandalizing ourselves by doubts and apostacy. The thing was set tled res adjudicata--and we were Baptists. Strong.
My grandfather owned some thirteen hundred acres of land, and his slaves, counting the children, num bered eighty-one. He was a man of few words, had no fondness for display, was well satisfied with his modest fortune; and in a quiet way took a pride in the fine appearance of his fields, fences, houses, mules, cows, hogs, and negroes. His face was rather stern, his eye somewhat severe, and his manner did not invite familiarity. Tall, square-framed, towering above other men, my grandfather filled me with awe. I used to wonder whether he was not a fair agricultural copy of General Washington.
[7]

BETHANY

The mansion in which we lived was a very modest

affair. It did not, in the least, resemble a Grecian

Temple which had been sent into exile, and which was

striving, unsuccessfully, to look at ease among corn-

cribs, cow-pens, horse-stables, pig-styes, chicken-houses,

negro cabins, and worm-fenced cotton fields. It did not

perch upon the top of the highest hill for miles around,

and browbeat the whole community with its arrogant

self-assertion. No: ours was just a plain house and

none too large, not built out of bricks brought over

from England, but of timbers torn from the heart of

the long-leaf Georgia pine.

The main body was made of logs hewed with the

broad-axe,smoothed with the footadze,and joined pow

erfully at the ends the four corners by being inter

locked into deep notches; upon these solid, heavy logs

-1

was laid, inside and out, a covering of plank: strong

sleepers bore up the plank floor, stout rafters held the

shingle roof. There you had the main body of the

" original house, which a partition, running from side

to side nearest the western end, cut into two equal

parts, the smaller being a bedroom, the larger being

the living room, where life on the homestead centered.

-

Springing off from the main roof, other rafters

reached downward to rest upon outer plates forming

a shed-roof; the half of this, being closed in with

planks, made a shed room: the other half, left unen-

closed, but floored, made a back piazza. Two stone

chimneys, built outside, gave fireplaces to the living

18]

OUR OLD HOME
room and to the shed room. The house rested upon massive stone piers, two feet high, well-set in the ground; and beneath the eaves, where rain-water was most likely to wash away the supporting earth, large square blocks of granite protected the founda tions.
Such was my grandfather's house, built for comfort, built to resist the storms of a hundred years which, indeed, it has done.
A very unpretentious dwelling you will say, with but four rooms, counting the attic, to which one could climb by dark, corkscrew stairs: but it did not remain quite so small. After my grandfather had lived in it many years, and had built the fine, two-story barn over on the other side of the Big Road, it seemed high time that he should make some improvement in his dwelling. So it came to pass that two handsome rooms were built in the front of the west end of the old house, forming an "ell" thereto, and connected, by a piazza, to the front piazza of the original dwelling. These new rooms were filled with costly furniture, and were dedicated to the use of." company " such visitors as might spend the night] or who were not of such familiar footing as to be received into the " living room " of the older house.
My grandfather remained faithful to the older house, spending his days and nights, Sundays and Mondays, winters and summers, in the big sitting room, where he welcomed friends, talked business with

BETHANY
his overseer, read his newspapers, and made entries in his "account books." To the left against the wall of this room stood the combination desk and bookcase which my mother afterward (in the evil days) used as smofee-house, butler's pantry and larder finding room enough, even then, for what books were left. On the right hand, and also against the wall, stood my grand father's bed. On the wooden shelf above the large fireplace ticked the clock. In the rack over the door was the gun. In the corner behind the front door stood his silver-headed walking cane. The doors fas tened with wooden latches, lifted or lowered by a string which ran through a gimlet hole in the door, and hung hospitably on the outside.
The modest dwelling nestled within a grove of mag nificent oaks and hickories of the original forest, its site being sufficiently elevated for one to stand in the yard and see every field of the plantation. From the open space in front of the lot, we had a view of the last spur of the Blue Ridge.
As I look back to it now, it seems to me that my grandfather's farm must have belonged to another worM, so complete have been the changes wrought by two generations. It seems to me that there was neither feverish haste upon it nor vagrant leisure, fretful exaction nor slip-shod looseness, miserly grip ping nor spendthrift waste. Everything was regular, everything was systematic. A man of settled, thrifty habits, my grandfather had drilled his slaves to his
[10]

OUR OLD HOME
orderly methods, and thus the old routine went on from year to year.
The same slaves allotted to the same tasks, working the same, fields with the same tools, raising the same crops in the same way, with never a material change from year to year, naturally gave to the plantation the character of a vast machine, well oiled, well managed, and doing its work without noise or friction unhasting yet unresting, like some steady law of nature. And my grandfather was a farmer! Pretty much everything that he needed was made on the place. There was always corn in the cribs, and some to spare; wheat, in the bin, and flour to sell; oats for use and a surplus for market. Every year he slaughtered sixtyodd " fattening" hogs and supplied his plantation with meat and lard. Peas, potatoes, fodder, shucks he always had more than enough.
Old people, even now, speak of the enormous num bers of hills of potatoes that stood in triple rows be tween his cow-lot and the Big Road. His herd of cat tle not only supplied the whole place with milk and butter (and beef now and then), but enriched the farm with manure such immense quantities of com post did he make from -stalls, stables, and lots, No commercial fertilizers were bought in those, days. A large flock of sheep yielded plenty of wool to exchange for woolen cloth to clothe us in the best of winter suits all wool, and strong as a mule.
The gin-house stood in the midst of the orchard, [11]

BETHANY
back of the garden, and beside it was the press, with its huge wooden screw, and the long wooden arms to whose ends the mules were hitched to turn the screw which furnished the pressure to pack the lint into square bales.
The raw cotton, grown on the farm, was carded and spun and woven and made up on the farm. You could see every step in its wonderful journey from seed in the ground to cloth on the bodies of people who had produced it.
That old Southern homestead was a little kingdom, a complete social and industrial organism, almost wholly sufficient unto itself, asking less of the outer world than it gave. How sound, sane, healthy it ap pears, even now, when compared to certain phases of certain other sv/ stems!
What laborer suffered hunger or cold ? What slave was neglected when sick, and turned out to perish in old age? Each cabin had its garden and its poultry; and the orchard and the melon-patch were shared by everyone on the place. The food was meat, meal, flour, molasses, potatoes, peas, turnips, and " collard greens." A peck of meal and three pounds of meat comprised the regular weekly ration. How many negroes fare better now ? They wore home-made cotton clothes in summer, and all-wool jeans in winter, with wool hats and thick-soled leather shoes. How many of them dress more com fortably now ? The children were they ever put to
[12]

OUR OLD HOME
work when they were mere infants, as is done with so many white children to-day in the great cities of our Christian land ?
Uncle Daniel was the Nestor of the negro quarters. Too old to' work in the fields, yet strong enough to get about well on his feet, his sole task on the planta tion was to trundle a wheelbarrow up and down the Big Road and collect the manure day by day. From the rise of the sun to the going down thereof, you might have seen this aged slave making his regular tour from the Big Gate to Germany Creek; from the creek back to the forks of the road; then out upon the spur-road to the boundary-line of the plantation; then back to the house, where the wheelbarrow, full by this time, was emptied into a square pen of rails. By the end of the year this huge pen would have been filled as high as a man could reach all with unmixed manure. It was astonishing how much compost could be made from the collections daily made by this old man in his barrow.
When Christmas came, and the hands all trooped to the Big House to get drams, new clothing, and special gifts, it was Uncle Ralph who would dangle a pair of shoes before the eyes of the white-headed slave, and call out, laughingly: " Now, Uncle Daniel, you jump up and crack your heels three times before you hit the ground, and you may have these shoes! "
But the old darkey knew that he was a privileged character on that farm, and he had no notion of
[13]

BETHANY
cutting up monkey-shines for the amusement of any body; so he stood upon his dignity, and got the shoes just the same. He got Lis five silver dollars at Christmas time, just as the other male slaves did the women getting two dollars each and the chil dren being remembered in dimes and in candy and cake. And as to the two negro women, Dilsey and Harriet, who were too old to work, none had better houses, better clothing, better food, or humaner attention.
If there is any human creature that I do under stand it is the Southern negro. I was raised with him, and, partly, by him. My earliest and favorite playmate was Xapoleon Bonaparte Scott, as black a scamp as ever stole eggs, and then lied out of it. His sister, Mandy, nursed me. Our heads are growing gray hers and mine but I am quite sure that we have a tenderness for each other yet. The slaves on the place taught'me how to fish, hunt the 'possum, and set traps for game. A slave made for me my first swing and my first bow and arrow. What happier nights did my boyhood know than those when I shared the ash-cake on Uncle Turner's hearth, and then listened as he played the fiddle ? Kext to these, perhaps, were those nights in Uncle Isom's cabin, when he told me marvelous yarns of ghosts and " haunts." There was no Uncle Remus on our place. That good old ebony angel lived in the mind of Joel Chandler Harris, of Putnam County; and I
[ 14 ]

MAXDY.

OUR OLD HOME
rarely heard anything about Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox. But I heard things about graveyard " haunts " that often made me run at the top of my speed when the time came to go from the cabin back to the Big House.
At such times the door of the cabin had to stand open, so that the blaze from the pine-knots could cut a lane of light through the outer darkness: and old Isom himself had to stand upon the threshold to make certain that no " boogers" darted in and caught me, as I scooted up the path.
Among our negroes there were, so far as I can recall, hone who were devils and none who were seraphs. They were just plain niggers, wonderfully and fearfully made, out of materials partly good and partly bad.
Mandy, indeed, might be considered something of a curiositvt/ ,/ for the reason that she was virtuous. It was said among white men, as well as black, that no temptation could reach her. Whether she was con stitutionally cold, or whether she acted from prin ciple, I do not know: I simply record the fact that she was regarded and respected on the plantation as a strictly virtuous girl.
My grandfather's house and surroundings were typical of those of middle-class landowners of the old order. What you found in his home you would find in every home of that class. His ways were those of the average man of his state. He wfcs
. . t 15 ]

BETHANY
orthodox in politics, took the creed just as he found it; believed what the party leader proclaimed; made no independent research in any direction; and the vitality which he thus saved he expended in raising potatoes, corn, and cotton. He was a " Toombs man "; therefore, I reckon that when Toombs quit the Whig party and joined the Democrats, whom he had so often vociferously damned, my grandfather changed cars also.
In religion he was a non-combatant, which is say ing a good deal, for in those days most men were either rampant Methodists or militant Baptists real religion being just about as abundant then as it i3 now in these days when we " exchange pulpits." He would sit on his front piazza, of a Sunday afternoon while neighbor Langford (Methodist) would wrangle with neighbor Cason (Baptist) upon tremendous propositions in theology which neither of them understood (and nobody else, as far as that matters), and he would never chip in a word just sit and look out over the fields as who should say: " The problem is old, and deep, and sorrowful; how can such rustics as these solve riddles which the wise men, for ages, have wrestled with in vain ? It is a subject upon which nobody knows anything; why quarrel over its mysteries ? "
He was no Puritan, my grandfath only a grave, decorous senior who had been " v '' when he was young, and whose stern features would no-
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OUR OLD HOME

ticeably relax when some reference was made to his

youthful escapades. He took his three drams a day

with the patience of a martyr; and, when very angry,

would swear with an eloquence that was impressive.

By the way, I now recall that there was a bright

mulatto boy on the place, named Sam, whose moth

er's color was a smooth, universal black, and whose

son Sam bore a distinct likeness to my Uncle Ralph.

I mention this as a singular coincidence, just as I

might tell you of the two mulatto fiddlers at Char-

lottesville, Va., who bore such an impertinent and

irrelevant resemblance to the Sage of Monticello.

My grandfather was not a literary man, and

rarely dipped deeper into a book than was necessary

to master the pictures; but yet our bookcase held

quite a number of volumes. Of course there was a

large family Bible. There was also a fat copy of

Watts's Hymns, and the Pilgrim's Progress, and a /

stray volume of Wesley's Sermons. Georgia Scenes

was there, and Simon Suggs; but not Sut Lovingood.

We had a handsome Shakespeare, illustrated with

steel engravings; a Don Quixote, and a Gil Bias.

There were several books of history State, national,

and universal; also Rev. John S. C. Abbott's Life of

Xapoleon Bonaparte, profusely illustrated. The

Ettrick Shepherd (James Hogg) had strayed, by .

some mysterious chance, into my grandfather's book- '

case, where its wrinkled green covers touched Parson

Brownlow's Great Iron Wheel Examined a religio-

3

[ 17 i

BETHANY
controversial work in which there was a good deal more controversy than religion. Another one of our literarv, luxuries was Theodosia,' Heroine of the Faith; and on the shelf she leaned affectionately against Tom Jones a scandalous attitude, as I now realize. The Arabian Xights Entertainments we had; likewise Comstock's Philosophy; a Familiar Science; a Georgia Gazetteer; and a liberal supply of Patent Office Reports. I do not think we had a copy of Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy.
As to pictures, I can recall a brilliant Battle of Buena Vista; and a chromo representing Washing ton, on a white horse, riding into Trenton, his way being strewn with flowers by a larger number of uniformly handsome, buxom girls than I can re member to have ever seen together at one time. There was another pA icture which took mvt> ev/ e completely. It represented a wintry road and a wellwrapped traveler, lawfully and peacefully journey ing, along this road in a lonely place, when suddenly there confronts him another traveler who, without the fear of God in his heart, holds out his hat in one hand and suggestively brandishes a club with the other. The look of eager confidence and per suasive intimidation on the face of the lawless man with the club, and the expression of surprise, dis appointment and pain worn by the well-wrapped traveler who has no club, and who realizes that he must impair his gold-reserve, were so vividly pictured
[18]

OUR OLD HOME
that I never tired of studying this Irish scene for the " get up " of the figures was Irish.
I close my eyes, and the old Homestead is before me again, in rounded outline, in smallest detail the sturdy, comfortable cottage, the village of out houses, the smoke curling from the negro cabins which stretch away beneath the giant trees.
I see Uncle Ralph saddle his pony and go gallop ing off to school. I see my mother busy about the house with the thousand and one cares of house keeper. !My grandfather takes his silver-headed cane and walks around and about the lots, the fields, the orchards, the garden, the woods walks slowly, with the calm, dignified air of a master who ex pects to find everything going on as it should; the settled, confident air of one who is used to being obeyed, and who has no anxieties; a stately, selfcontained, self-reliant man. To all the slaves he is " Old Marse." To them he is Authority; and they hold him in boundless respect. And while my grandfather's tall form is seen passing to and fro in his measured way, Boney Scott and I play on the white gravel beneath the lordly trees. Boney Scott is the little nigger boy who is set apart to mind the calves while Aunt Mymie milks the cows, the bal ance of his time being spent in play with me. In the back piazza sits Mandy churning: the cook, Cassie, is in the garden gathering things for the dinner-table; black children squall and romp about
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[

BETHANY

I

the quarters. The yellow cur yard-dog. Buck, dozes

I

. in the sun, and snaps occasionally at intrusive

I

flies. I hear from the field.- the "Gee, hore! v

of one plow-hand, the " Haw, there I " of another;

;

sometimes I catch the voice of a foreman scolding

another negro. I hear the u toll, tolang, toll, tolang,"1

.' .

of the bell-cow down in the meadow by the creek,

|

the bell sounding most fitfully as the cow grazes

along the banks. Sometimes the bell is not heard

!

for manv minutes; then there will be one regular

*

*>

/

*--.

I

toll after another as she walks to a new place, then

]

she will angrily shake her head to get rid of the

i

cruel, blood-drawing flies, and the lx?ll will clamor

furiously. I hear the bleat of lambs and ewes; the

;

bellow of the bull; the contented grunt of roving

hogs. I hear the scream of the hawk, the cluck of

;

hens, and the rooster's blatant crow, repeated with

unnecessary emphasis and perseverance. The doves

nest in the pine thicket back of the orchard, and I

hear the mournful coo of the mother-bird. The

turkey-buzzard wheels in ample curves above the

trees,' and his broad shadow cuts under mv*/ naked . feet.

The jay-birds quarrel and chatter and yodel in

the big trees nesting in the thick clumps of twigs

which sprout out from the bosses beneath the giant

limbs. The sap-sucker and the pecker-wood and the

yellow-hammer studiously explore for worms and

make the dead limbs ring with resounding.tattoo

C 20 1

OUR OLD HOME

the instrumental music of the woods. The torn-tit

flies here and there, the humming-bird darts in and

out, the bannered butterflies hover over the flowers

of the butterfly-weed which blossoms in the corners

of the yard-fence; and over the whole scene stretches

the mystic wand of the queen of the woodland song

nature's unapproachable prima donna, the Mock

ing Bird!

In the lazy, sunny atmosphere, the pigeons go

circling round and round, up and down, now in

frightened speed, now in confident leisure; one mo

ment you see them sitting in prim dress-parade on

the cone of the new barn, shoulder to shoulder, from

one end of it to the other; look again, and there

they are, deployed along the wide, sloping roof, their

wings opened out, each pigeon reclining on its side

as it takes its bath in the sun.

Do you hear the moan of the spinning-wheel?

Old Aunt Mymie is spinning cotton-thread. Aunt

Mymie is Boney's mammy; she is getting old, and

she is shriveled, black, austere; but she is full of

energy, not too amiable, has a temper of her own,

enjoys the entire confidence of the white folks, who

defer to her a good deal in matters touching her

own linos of work. ITow distinctly I see that

gaunt, vigorous, straight figure standing beside the

~

7

^*

7

~

C71

<-J

clumsv frame. From the basket on the floor she t>

takes the film*v> cotton " bat":' one end she twists

and fixes to the spool, then while one hand holds the

[ 21 ]

BETHANY

cotton the other seizes the wheel there is a pre-

liminary whirl or two as she gathers her strength,

and then with a concentrated effort she throws her

whole power on it, and takes her hand away. How the wheel does fly ! I can no longer see the spokes ;

the rim seems stationary. The wheel first hums,

then moans as it reaches its highest speed, then sinks

to a hum again, and slows down I can see the spokes

again; and then it stops. As it has been whirling,

humming and moaning, Aunt Mymie has been ma

nipulating the cotton, drawing back her hand to

attenuate the thread, smaller and smaller drawing back, drawing back until the thread is the proper

size, then easing the slack, and letting her hand

approach nearer the spool as it winds up the thread.

Yes, I can hear the moan of the spinning-wheel, and the knock and slam, the click and jerk of the old

wooden loom where Aunt Jane weaves cloth from

the thread Aunt Mymie spins. But noon comes and some one at the Big House
calls to Boney; he runs pit-a-pat to the back-door;

and

here

he

returns

with:

"

Mammv! ,

time

ter

blow

de horn! "

The wheel stops; Aunt Mymie goes to the

kitchen, takes down the dinner-horn, pours a dipper

of water through it, shakes it well, mounts a huge two-foot block, puts the horn to her lips, and blows,

blows, blows, till the uttermost part of the planta

tion has heard the blast, till the mules have all

[ 23 1

OUR OLD HOME whinkered, till the hands have all welcomed it with a cheery whoop; and its cadences still rise and fall, rise and fall, as the trace-chains clink on the hames, and the gear slips from the tired mule to the plowstock erect in the furrow. And so the hands " come from the field," to eat, and to rest for one hour and a half; and then the afternoon will repeat the morn ing's lesson.
It all rises before me, complete as a picture, vivid as a flash of lightning a plain, unpretentious, com fortable, happy Southern home of the old regime and like a castle among the clouds it is gone forever, even while I gaze; just as the republic of our fathers, of which that old home was a typical part, is gone, forever gone.
[231

CHAPTER II
TWO OF MY HEROES
OXE evening, in the year 1858, a carriage drove up to our front gate, and we heard the customary " Hello! " Uncle Ralph went out to see who was there. He soon returned, bringing with him two travelers who had stopped with us before. One of these was the finest looking man I ever saw. Built on a grand scale, he was tell and broad and deepchested. He stepped with a decided lift of the foot, was erect as an Indian, and bore his head with the pride of a king. His face was clean-shaven, there being no beard save a tuft below the chin. The whole countenance stood out unconcealed, clean-cut, strong ly marked, massive, leonine. He was richly though plainly dressed, wearing no jewelry save a gold watcli and chain; his hat was a soft felt "slouch," and he carried a gold-headed cane.
The other was almost a complete contrast. Rather above than below the medium height, he was so very thin, slender, frail-looking, that he was often mistaken for a sickly boy. His complexion was pale-yellow, absolutely bloodless; the lips, even, had
[24]

TWO OF MY HEROES

no color; there were great furrows on his face,

and there was a perfect net-work of smaller

wrinkles which overspread the countenance. When

you looked at him you felt sorry for him, for the

thought at once struck you that he was one who had

suffered intense pain, mental and physical. His

voice was thin, sharp, reedy the tone of a shrill,

shrewish woman. In fact, you caught yourself

thinking: " If this frail, wrinkled, keen-voiced man

were dressed as a woman, he would pass unchallenged

anywhere as a faded, sallow spinster." It was only

when you looked at his glorious brown eyes, noted

the square jaw, thick neck, and noble head, that you

reassured yourself, and said: " This is a man, and a"

verv wonderful man," for the beardless, colorless

t-

/

7

visitor was Alexander H. Stephens. His companion

was Robert Toombs.

The Superior Court of an adjoining county was

in session, and these great lawyers, on their way

to it, were going to spend the night with my grand

father. Cordially greeted, as guests whom we were

delighted to honor, they were shown to the " Com

pany Room," and in due time they were ready for

the supper-table and its substantial meal of home

made food.

We already had one guest when Stephens and

Toombs .drove up. This was Colonel Nat Crawley,

an old friend of the family, a quiet, independent

kind of man, whom we greatly liked.

[35]

BETHANY
In those days the country was thinly settled, and taverns where decent accommodations could be had were few. Therefore all the well-to-do planters were made a convenience of by such travelers as passed to and fro along the Big Road. Lawyers on their way to court, preachers on the circuit, itinerant peddlers with packs, dentists and doctors and poli ticians all claimed hospitality by reason of the unwritten law, and were never refused. .Such a thing as offering to pay for the entertainment was not thought of the children might be given small silver coins, a " thrip," or such a matter, and the negro boy who took the traveler's horse and attended to it might be gladdened with a dime, but, as a rule, that was all.
After supper was over, and we had drawn chairs around the hearth, where a pine-knot fire blazed cheerily for it was March, and the atmosphere was sharp pipes were lit, and conversation took a wider range.
Toombs led the talk, and in those days talk among the men generally meant politics. The way in which he sat in his chair, the natural majesty of his deportment, his gesture, his eye, his great head crowned with crow-black hair came up to my ideal of natural royalty. And to hear him talk! His voice was an orchestra, and if ever a man had a " speaking face " it was Toombs. The play of expression on his countenance was like the dance of
[36]

ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS.

TWO OF MY HEROES

shadows upon a lake in the woods on a sunny, windy

day. How his eyes would flash, how his great white

teeth would shine, how the color would come and

go on his swarthy face! And fiercely he could

harangue for ten minutes, till you thought he wanted

to kill somebody and drink his blood; and then some

witty word shot from his lips, his eyes sparkled with

fun, his cheeks dimpled and his white teeth would

shine through as sweet a smile as I ever saw. Truly

a big man was Toombs. His ideas, views, ambitions,

passions, methods, excellences, and faults were big;

his loves and his hates, his battles, his triumphs, his

defeats were big; his roar of wrath, his shout of

onset, his bursts of profanity, his explosions of

laughter in all things he was the big Bob Toombs,

an idol of the South because that he carried in his

heart the very passions, prejudices, hopes, aspira

tions, distinctive traits, habits, strength and weak

ness

of

the

South: /

and

everv v

Southern

man

felt

that

here was a man who loved the South with all his

mind and soul and heart, hating intensely every

thing and everybody who hated her.

Ah, yes! And the South was proud of Toombs

because he was valiant, strong, able to meet the

enemy in the gate; able to give blow for blow to

every champion of the Xorth. In those days when I

was a boy Georgia had no war-cry more universal,

more enthusiastic than " Hurrah for Toombs! "

I learned, at a later day, that William L. Yancey,

[27]

BETHANY

^
of Alabama,* was even more widely/ known as a champion of extreme Southern views than Toombs,
and that many considered him yet a greater orator
and agitator than Toombs; but of this we were

ignorant at that time. We country people of Geor

gia thought that Toombs and Stephens were the

greatest men on earth. Indeed, I have never yet

seen a man who impressed me so powerfully as

Toombs;/ and I have seen mantv- whom the world considers great.

They* told me that Stephens was not afraid of

Toombs, or anvbodv else, in the court-room, or on the

s

V

t,

s

'

hustings, and that he was generally considered the

safest political leader our State possessed. But to a

child like me Mr. Stephens pale, weak, thin-voiced

was no hero beside the bold, dashing, brilliant,

turbulent Toombs. I loved Stephens, but I gloried

in Bob Toombs!

Stephens and Toombs explained to us the meaning

of certain things which had occurred in Congress.

There had been violent .scenes on the floor; intem

perate speeches had be'en made on both sulesT" Jn

these debates, and in every political movement at

the National Capital, Toombs had been conspicu

ous; had, in fact, towered above all other Southern

leaders.

In the organization of the Thirty-first Congress the Northern extremists had endeavored to gain an advantage by revolutionary methods, and when

TWO OF MY HEROES
Toombs rose to protest they had tried to howl him down.
Then, when they were trying to force through the Wilmot Proviso, which shut the common territories to the Southern man and his property, Toombs had made his celebrated threat of " striking for in dependence " if the Xorth should pass such a law a law which denied political equality to the South. Disunion talk was rife, and the House was about to divide against itself, when Clay, Webster, and Calhoun united forces to effect the Compromise of 1850. It was in advocacy of this Compromise that Mr. Webster made the " Seventh of March Speech" which saved the Union and killed Webster in the Korth. After the compromise was agreed on, Toombs had lived up to it loyally, and had put forth all his power to crush the disunion movements in Georgia.
Three years later, however, the whole question was opened again on the Kansas-Xebraska bills, and the sectional fires raged all the more hotly because of their temporary suppression. The fact that the Supreme Court declared the old Missouri Com promise to have been unconstitutional, thus sustain ing the South's equal rights in the common territory, only tended to inflame the Xorthern leaders. There fore, when Stephens and Toombs came to our house in 1858, they were hot from the battlefield. They were not only full of the subject, but animated by
' [20]

BETHANY
all the passions which congressional warfare had excited.
They spoke of the anti-slavery societies, of Garri son and Phillips and Henry Ward Beecher. They alluded resentfully Jj>sJo}*h Quincy Adams, and they agreed in tracing lis vindictive hatred of the South to the fact that Andrew Jackson and the Southern Democrats had defeated him for the second term when he was President. He had caused himself to be se4t_Jo Congress, where he had led the fi^ht againsV tsus~ -BT^uf t while Toombs wa> severe on Ada^ms he was particularly bitter when he referred to Charles Simmer.
" Why," exclaimed Toombs, " Sumner denounces the South and its slave-owners as rabidly as though we had invented slavery. He appears to have con vinced himself that servitude was unknown to the world until Southern men commenced to buy niggers.' 7
(( Of course Sumner knows better than that, for he is a highly educated, widely read man," said Mr. Stephens. " He is undoubtedly honest in his war fare against slavers*. Personally, he is a pure man, though cold like Edward Everett intensely vain, and not popular with his own colleagues. But he is a dangerous man, because he knows nothing of prac tical affairs. He is a student, a theorist, a man of the closet, knowing all about books and nothing about men. In dealing with the slavery question
[301

TWO OF MY HEROES
the greatest practical wisdom is indispensable, and Sumner has not got it."
" What right, has such a man to denounce us in discriminately ?" asked Toombs. "What does he know about slavery in the South ? A gad-about English spinster and blue-stocking, like Harriet Martineau, can come down here, take a look at slavery out of the window of a stage-coach, return 2s~orth to write things against us, things she believed before she came, and the Wendell Phillips-Charles Sumner crowd will swallow every word she says; whereas, if Daniel Webster comes South to try a law-case in Charleston, and makes a personal, inves tigation into the condition of our slaves, his verdict is spurned by the Korth simply because it is in our favor."
" What incident do you refer to, Colonel Toombs ? " asked my grandfather.
" You remember a short while ago when Webster was gfven a public reception in Augusta, and made a speech ? Yes ? Well, he had just come from Charleston, where he had legal business. While there he rode around the country, inspecting the plantations and making inquiries of the negroes. After he had gone through the quarters of Wade Hampton's place and had talked with the slaves, he remarked that ' he did not see how the abolition of slavery could improve the condition of the slaves.' "
" A broad, brave man was Webster," remarked [31]

BETHAXY
Mr. Stephens. " He was one of the few public men who would endanger his political life by telling his home people that they were wrong."
" Yet he did us enormous harm," said Toombs. " I was a Webster man/ but in the Dartmouth College case he got the Supreme Court to make a decision which is not good law, and which will one day erect in the country a despotism of the corpora tions. In the debate with Hayne he sustained a position equally fatal to the liberties of the people. If the Federal Government is to be the supreme judge- of its own powers, if the State has no right to protect itself from Federal usurpation, the Con stitution is a mere cobweb over which the majority will advance to centralism, class-rule, and wholesale robbery under forms of law."
Here Colonel Xat Crawley shifted the subject by asking:
" Colonel Toorobs, don't you think Stephen A. Douglas made a mistake in repealing the Missouri Compromise ?"
""Why so, Xat?-" inquired Toombs. sharply.
" Well, because the slavery question had all been compromised, and things were quieting down. The repeal of the Missouri Compromise set the woods on fire again."
" The fire was never put out, sir. That is a mis take. How could the fire be put out when there were more than a hundred thousand fanatics banded
[331

TWO OF MY HEROES

together in abolition societies, oath-bound to keep

the woods burning ? "

" But," said Crawley, " they could do nothing

more than speak and write, and sing songs and hold

conventions. They were not in power, and they

were limited to the methods of peaceful, lawful agi

tation."

Toombs laughed boisterously and somewhat fierce

ly, throwing up his head and impulsively tossing

his hair with his hand.

" Was it peaceful and law-abiding when that mob

in Boston broke into the court-room, defied the court,

forcibly took possession of the prisoner a runaway

nigger and turned him loose in the streets? Was

it a law-abiding mob that shot down, like a dog, that

Maryland man, Gorsuch, in the streets of Lancaster,

Pa., and gave an ovation to his assassins when a

partisan jury, in a mock trial, found the murderers

{ not guilty' ? Does it sound like peace and the

reign of law when a man like Stephen A. Douglas

declares in the Senate that the Abolitionists have

armed the free negroes of the Xorth to oppose the

officers of the law as they attempt to enforce the

Fugitive Slave Act?"

" I had not heard of those things," said Crawley, very considerably set back.

" That's not all," said Toombs, warming up as he

went along. " There is a villainous book, written by a contemptible whelp named Hinton Helper, in

4

f 33 ]

BETHANY
which open war is declared upon all slave-owners, and it is proposed that they shall be all treated as outlaws, criminals, ruffians; and slaves are called upon to resort to any violence in their efforts to free themselves. That book has been formally endorsed bv/ John Sherman,' who was the abolition candidate for Speaker of the House! Why, the whole country is flooded with incendiary literature sent out by the Abolitionists."
" Yes, there are some disheartening signs of the times that forebode disaster," said Mr. Stephens.
".I was in the House, when Mr. John Quincy Adams, with whom I was personally quite friendly, was haranguing in his frantic way for abolition, and James Dollet remarked to him that his policy would cost the lives of a million men. { Let it be five hundred million!' cried the venerable exPresident, in a frenzy. The signs of the times are alarming fearfully so. Toombs is right as to the Missouri Compromise. It had not settled the ques tion of slavertv/ ."
Here Toombs broke in: " Xobody had repealed the Missouri Compromise in 1850, and yet the Union was put in jeopardy by the agitation of this same slavery question. Does that look as though the old Compromise of 1820 had settled everything ? "
Before Colonel Crawley had shaped an answer Mr. Stephens continued:
" I have had occasion to study the records very [34]

TWO OP MY HEROES
*
carefully with reference to the Missouri Compro mise, and I found that the Korth had violated it time and again. It was a dead letter, excepting on those occasions when it could be used against the South."
My mother left the room to look after the prepa ration of the guest chambers. After she had gone I could notice a marked change in Toombs's manner. He became more violent.
" The present Union," exclaimed Toombs, " could only be adopted by a compromise between ^orth and South on this very question. Whenever com promise ceases to be possible the Union will go to smash! "
Colonel Crawley now spoke up, saying to Toombs: " But suppose this excitement reaches such a pitch that there can be no peace between the sections of our'country as long as slavery exists, would it not be best to arrange some terms of compromise, say, gradual emancipation with pay for the slaves ? That seems to be the direction things are taking in other parts of the world."
" Xo, sir! " answered Toombs, with raised voice and growing animation. " Xo, sir! If we sur render one principle we will be called upon to sur render others. The great danger to the country is centralism. Had I been a member of the Virginia Convention I would have voted with Patrick Henry against the Constitution. The dangers that he then
[35]

BETHANY

foretold have come upon us. John Randolph saw

it, too, and wanted the fight against centralism

-made then, when the South was abler to hold its

own than it will ever be again. On that memorable

day when Randolph went up to Clay in the halls

of Congress and proposed to follow his lead if he,

Clay, would boldly take a stand for Disunion had

I been there I should have backed Randolph and

not Clay. The mad Virginian was right."

"j

" But, Mr. Toombs, have not our Southern leaders

always been opposed to slavery? Did not Mr. Jef-

|

ferson declare that nothing was more certain than

that these black people would be freed ? "

. " Certainlv *>

he

did." /

retorted

Toombs: *

" but

he

never said that the Federal Government must usurp

the power to free them. My ripe wheat is certain

to be cut, but I don't want some other man to dic

tate to me when and how I shall cut it. This ques

tion is a domestic question, one that each State must

deal with. The Federal Government has no more

to do with it than it has to do with the barroom

question, the State convict question, or the question

of child labor in the factories."

"But you know, Mr. Toombs, that Mr. Jefferson

himself

tried

to

exclude

slaverv /

in

the

jSTorthwest-

ern Territory, and that all territorial government

since has followed his model. He finally shut out

slavery in the new territory, and tried to abolish

slavery in Virginia."

[361

TWO OF MY HEROES
" You are right," said Mr. Stephens. " And Jefferson -was right. As an original proposition, I do not myself favor the ' peculiar institution.' But times have changed since Jefferson's day. ' Circum stances alter cases,' you know, Xat The Southern colonies attempted to keep slavery out, but the royal authorities of Great Britain forced the African slave-trade upon us. Now that the system is a fix ture here, and our whole industrial superstructure rests upon that foundation, we can not allow out siders to wreck the building. Why, slavery has be come the cornerstone of Southern interests."
" Yes," exclaimed Toombs, " it's one thing to oppose a system when it is being introduced, and quite another to overthrow it after it has become embedded in its place. On that very ground, Web ster, whose best speeches were made against the tariff system, now. defends it. He says it was brought into New England over his protest, but that since his people have got their money invested in manufacturing under the plighted faith of the Gov ernment, these vested rights must not be disturbed. Therefore he is a protectionist."
" At heart, however, he.is still a free-trader," said Mr. Stephens, " as I infer from ~a little incident that occurred not long ago."
" What was that ?" asked several, as Mr. Ste phens paused to refill his pipe.
" Webster went to some city in the North to make
[37]

/-
|: i *
5
j f

BETHANY

a tariff speech, at the instance of Horace Greeley

and some others of similar faith. Xext morning

the local newspaper came out with flaming headlines

announcing Webster's great speech. Beneath the

headlines was printed, not the address of the evening

previous, but one of Webster's powerful free-trade

- arguments made when he was in his youthful prime.

Horace Greeley and all that crowd were in the ut

most dismay, and they raved over the matter in a

fury of indignation. When they rushed to Mr.

Webster with the matter, he glanced at the paper

in his leisurely, magisterial way, then broke into a

laugh, and said: ' The speech they have reprinted

is a far better speech than that T made last night! ' "'

" Bullv' for old Dan ! "' cried Toombs. sh:ikiiic:

with eniovment. *' Bv G d ! he was the 1'iuucst

*-* *

<

^- l

in tte bunch ! B'you remember, Alec, the night he

and Kufus Choate came to your room in Washing

ton, in 1852, to show to us the platform he was will

ing to run for President on ( "

" As if it were last night," responded Stephens

promptly. " There was a change or two I suggested,

and Webster readily assented. What a grand Presi

dent he would have made! "

" A President for the whole country," exclaimed

Toombs; " there was no mean sectionalism about

Daniel Webster. The South lost her one great op

portunity when she failed to support him for Presi

dent"

[38]

TWO OFMY HEROES
11 Yes, and it broke his heart," said Stephens, with an emotion that softened his voice. " He had already been deeply stung by the action of Massa chusetts in electing such a man as Sumner to fill his place in the Senate, and when the South refused to rally to his support he realized that in trying to stand as mediator between the two sections he had lost both.".
" Why was it that the South did not support him, you reckon ?" asked Xat Crawley, with a tone of regret in his voice.
" Because," answered Toombs, " the South was just as angry, just as blind, as the North was. The North flung Webster aside for a radical, and the South was just as extreme. In times of revolution the most violent is the leader. Men of compromise are not worth hell's room."
" Well, granting all that you have said, is it a' fact, that the Federal Government proposes to free the negroes ?" asked Nat Crawley, looking up at Toombs out of the corner of his eye through the smoke of his cob-pipe.
" Don't you know, sir," cried Toombs to Crawley, " that the business of encouraging niggers to run away from us has been reduced to a system, and that the ' underground railway' which transports these runaway niggers to the North and into Can ada is the subject of Northern jeers and boasting? Don't you know that these leaders denounce the Con-
[39]

BETHANY

stitution as a covenant with hell, and declare that

they will defy Supreme Court and Constitution,

appealing to a * higher law ' \ "

" Toombs ! Toombs! " piped the thin voice of

Mr. Stephens, his tone being that of friendly

remonstrance. " It is hardlvt, fair to hold the Xorth responsible for the howls of demagogues and the

clamor of fanatics. Xo influential leader of the

Xorth has yet uttered sentiments like those you

quote. Upon the other hand, Daniel Webster, at

Capon Springs, Va., entered his protest against the

very men you refer to, and took a position which

satisfied everv sensible man in the South." e" I know he did," flashed Toombs, " and I also

know that Wendell Phillips denounced him as a

traitor in Fanueil Hall, and that a great audience

cheered Phillips to the echo. And when Webster

wanted to speak in the same hall its door was shut

in his face! "

-" I hadn't heard that," said my grandfather.

" When a man like Webster is denounced bfve a man like Phillips, and ,Xow England backs Phillips, it

*

looks to me as if the situation was growing desperate.

What

do

you
t,

think,/

Xat ? "

turning^:

to

Colonel

Crawley.

.5.

" It all depends, upon who it was that listened to

Phillips and cheered him. I would want to know

how many representative men were in Eanueil Hall

at the time. In a big city like Boston you might

[40]

TWO OF MY HEROES
collect an audience that would applaud Satan him
self."
Toombs continued: " Yes, that's all true enough, but I am not judg ing the Xorth by any one incident; it's the general trend of things that alarms me. Didn't a pall gather about Webster after his Seventh of March speech? Didn't Xew England fall away from him in an hour? His whole life had been devoted to her; for a generation or more he had been her champion, her apostle. So highly was he esteemed that the wealthy men of Xew England, whose interests he protected in Congress, supplemented his annual salary with a regular annuity out of their private purses. Yet the moment that he turned against the abolition fanatics and pleaded for recognition of Southern rights under the Constitution he lost his crown his became a broken scepter." " Still we must bear in mind," said Mr. Stephens, " that the Seventh of March Speech saved the day for the South, that it was Webster who sustained the tottering measures of Henry Clay; and we mustn't jump at the. conclusion that Congress can be controlled by Garri'son and Phillips." "I jump at nothing!" answered Toombs; "but what's the use of having eyes and ears if we are not to know what is going on ? You know, Alec, how the North hates the South; you and I see it in Congress at every session. Those people hate us,
[41]

B E THANY

always did, and always will. They are different

from us in blood, custom, speech, and creed; they

envy us our wealth and growing power; they will

never forgive us that we made a success out of

negro slavery where they tried it and failed; they

sold us pretty near all the niggers we've got, and

now that the slave-trade is at an end and no more

monev can be made out of us, thev clamor for

*j

/

*/

emancipation."

" Oh, well, that's one side of the case; but you

make a big mistake if you don't take into considera

tion the fact that nine-tenths of the Northern aboli

tionists, at this time, are just as honest in their

convictions as you or I are in ours.'7

||

"I don't deny that," said Toombs, " but history

proves that most of the harm that has been done to

States and peoples has been done by men who were

honest in their convictions. The men of the Inqui

sition were doubtless honest, but that was d d

poor consolation to the victim burning at the stake."

The pallid face of Mr. Stephens flushed a little

at Toombs's brusque retort; but he answered, calmly

enough:

" The danger which is most apparent, in all this

complication is the ugly temper which has been

aroused. -There has been so much rampant talk on

both sides, in public and in private, in newspapers

and in books, that we are steadily nearing the limit

beyond which argument, reason, deliberation are not

[42]

TWO OF -MY HEROES

effective. Popular passions, whipped into angry

waves bv this continual storm of heated discussions.

V

f

will break from all control, and a crisis may approach

in which the leaders Xorth and South may find it im

possible to prevail upon the masses to consider any

further compromise."

" Compromise ? " cried Toombs; " what further

compromise can be had \ All I demand is the pro

tection guaranteed me by the Constitution and the

laws! If the compact solemn!}' agreed on by our

fathers is no protection, if the acts of Congress are

dead letters, if the plighted faith of a century is

nothing, then I for one will proclaim to my people

that the time has come to fight! "

" Toombs! Toombs! " again came the remonstrant

voice of Mr. Stephens, " don't go too fast. Do not

lash our people into greater excitement. It's dan

gerous, I tell you, it's dangerous! See how wild the

Xorth and South are over this Brooks and Sumner,

matter. Yes, yes, I know what you would say for

Brooks. Sumner had indeed goaded the Southern

men into a frenzy, denouncing them in the Senate

dav,- after dav*/ . It was intolerable,/ I know. And had Brooks caned him on the streets, with some

moderation, there might have been little excitement.

But while few people love Sumner personally, and

many hate him cordially, ho is the representative

of the entire Xorth on the slavery question; and the

fearful beating Brooks gave him in the Senate

[43]

BETHANY

Chamber created a tempest. Brooks simply played

into the hands of the abolitionists, making them thou

sands of votes."

" That's so," remarked Colonel Xat Crawley,

" and the way in which the South gave Brooks public

ovations, presenting gold-headed canes and naming

boy-babies after him, doesn't help matters much. By

the way, what has become of Brooks arid Sumner ? "

Mr. Stephens replied: " Brooks died somewhat

suddenly in Washington of a throat disease, and

Sumner has gone to Europe for medical treatment."

" Gentlemen, I was standing near when Brooks

caned Sumner," said Toombs, " and he got no more

than he deserved. I tell v/ ou,/ the manner in which this academic apostle of fanaticism had vilified the

j

South generally, and Brooks's aged uncle, Senator

I

Butler, especially, was more than flesh and blood

could stand. What are vou to do with a man who f
takes advantage of his position foully to abuse you

' in public every day, and at the same time says that

.his principles will not allow him to fight ? "

Mr. Stephens pondered a moment lor " Little

|

Alec " himself was a man who would fight, and had

|

fought gamely, against the heaviest odds.

'I

" I admit that Sumner is the kind of man you

$

describe, a man whose colossal vanity and conceit

&

c'

.|

have schooled him to the belief that he has the right

to deal in unlimited abuse of other men without

ever being called to account. But all this is aside

[44]

TWO OF MY HEROES

from the point. What I contend is that with inci

dents like these and talk like yours, on the one side,

and that of Sumner on the other, the ship of State

will be soon at the mercvi, of the storm.'" " Let it come! Let it come! " cried Toombs, his

face ablaze. " Anything is better than base sur

render of vital principle. We've either got a lim

ited Government, doing business within those limits,

or we've got a tyranny of the majority which can

take the ' general welfare' clause of the Constitu

tion and Hamilton's doctrine of implied powers, and

centralize the Republic until Thomas Jefferson

would not recognize .it! I for one would like to

know which it is to be."

Mr. Stephens was silent for a few moments, and

he reached over to the hearth and knocked the ashes

from his pipe.

" I know what is in your mind, Toombs," he then

said, very soberly. " You are thinking of the legis

lation the ISTorth has forced upon the South, their

policy of diverting the funds in the treasury to the

building up of their own section, their methods of

keeping up a copartnership between the Government

and the monetv/ ed men of the Xorth. We are familiar with all of that, and more. But, bad as this is,

let

me

tell

vou
*J

that

civil

war

is

worse."

" And there is something worse even than civil

war," exclaimed Toombs hotly, " and that is loss of

honor, loss of liberty, loss of self-respect, loss of

[45]

BETHANY

sacred rights. Rather than see the South treated

like the yellow dog of the Union, d------d if I

wouldn't even tryt- the issues on the battle-field." " Can we afford to go to war to keep the niggers

in slavery ? " asked Colonel Crawlev.

I/

*>'

Toombs whirled on him like a flash, and the vibra

tion of intense feeling was in his voice as lie

replied:

" Fight for the niggers \ "Who the hell would

fight for the d------d niggers ?. Southern men did

not invent slaverty/ ;' Southern men did not darken the ocean with slave-ships as Rhode Island and

Massachusetts did; Southern men have led every

'

*

movement which looked toward some plan of eman

cipation which would be safe for the whites and

best for the blacks. Even now the country is sprin

kled with free negroes set free by Southern whites;

even now our great religious denominations are

grappling with the problem and doing their best to

solve it. If let alone the South will solve the prob

lem, but when a lot of d------d Yankee fanatics

crack the whip over our heads and attempt to drive

us on a question which is purely a domestic ques

tion, then, by God!--I say that the nigger question

gets swallowed by the larger question of home rule,

of local self-government, of the rights, immunities,

and independence of the State under the Federal

Constitution! "

It would be impossible for me to picture Toombs

[461

TWO OF MY HEROES
as he said this. His lion-like face glowing with pas sion, his great black eyes flashing fire, his tangled hair falling about his forehead in a disorder which, somehow, became him, his white teeth gleaming now and then as the mobile lips fashioned his rapid words, the stalwart, full-chested frame a-quiver with life and energy; and around him grouped silent, rapt, deeply impressed listeners.
" Fight for the niggers ? " he repeated. " Did John Hampden fight for a principle or for a paltry handful of shillings which a lawless king demanded of him ? Did our forefathers in the Revolution fight for a principle or did they go to war about the picayunish sum of money involved in the Stamp Tax and Tea Duty ? "
Colonel Crawley pondered awhile, and then an swered :
" Well, of course Hampden fought for a principle and not for a few shillings; and of course our fore fathers fought for a principle and not for the money involved in those British taxes; but if we provoke civil war on this slavery question all the world will say that we are fighting to keep the blacks in chains."
" Chains--hell I " blurted Toombs. " That's Yankee talk. Who ever saw a nigger in chains? Xiggers under our system are a d----d sight better off than they ever were in Africa, better of! than the white laboring class anywhere. Did you ever see a nigger in chains, Kat ? "
[47]

BETHANY

The colonel laughed, and said: " Xo; unless it

was some runaway nigger who had just been caught."

" These Yankee Pharisees preach and prate about

our cruelties to the nigger why don't they concern

themselves for the white slaves of the Pennsylvania

coal-fields ? "Why don't they give some of their

benevolence to the factory women and children of

Xew England \ Why, there is more poverty, more

distress, more beggary, more nakedness and starva

tion in the one citvtj of Xew York than there is in the whole South. Who ever heard of a nigger com

mitting suicide ? a stern test of misery whose ex

amples are to be found throughout the Xorth. They

have labor riots all over the Xorth, which are put

down in blood. So it is in England. So it is every

where with the wage system. In the South we have

had slaverv two hundred vears, and there has been

tf

C

/

but one considerable insurrection."

" What about the question of morality, Toombs ? "

asked Colonel Crawley. " You know that Harriet

Martineau and others say a good deal about our

nmlattoes."

" Yes,> I know. Xat,/ men are the same everyv where. There have been bastards in the world since

the days of Ishmael, and there always will be, I

reckon. It so happens that our illegitimates carry

a sign their mixed color tells the secret. But sup

pose every corrupted woman in the Xorth wore the

Scarlet Letter, and suppose every bastard there had

[48]

TWO OF MY HEROES

a black knob to his nose, how do you suppose their

crowded streets would look ? "

The way in which Toombs said this caused a gen

eral laugh, after which something was said about

the Mayflower's having been engaged in the slave-

trade.

" The Boston people deny that, you know,

Toombs," said Mr. Stephens.

"Precisely," Toombs answered, "precisely; and

the same people deny that the Hartford Convention

was a secession meeting. Why, didn't Senator Hale,

of Massachusetts, publish that lie about me, accus

ing me of boasting that I would call the roll of my

slaves at Bunker Hill ? "

" It sounded so much like you, Mr. Toombs, that

most of us down South thought you said it." This

remark was made by Colonel ISTat Crawley, who was

no " fire-eater " and no blind worshiper of Toombs.

" A man who talks as much as Toombs, and who

hides what he thinks so seldom, may 'expect to be

misrepresented now and then," put in Mr. Stephens.

" People call me a ' fire-eater,' " said Mr. Toombs;

" but as a matter of fact I have done as much as

anybody in Congress and out of it to hold the Union

together."

" That is true, sir! " my grandfather assented.

" Had it not been for you and Mr. Stephens and

Howell Cobb, the disunion movement might have

carried this State in 1850."

5

[49]

BETHAXY

And so the conversation trailed off into local de

tails, which in turn led to incidents and anecdotes,

and so to high good-lmmor all round till bedtime.

As they rose to go to their rooms. Toomhs said:

" Squire Horton, that's a bright little grandson

you've got over there--most lads would have been

fast asleep by now."

It was the great Bob Toornbs taking notice of me,

a

tinv /

bit

of

a

botv, !

Grandfather was pi leased,* and

I was delighted; and next day, after the two lawyers

had gone on their way to court, I practised my lungs

on ''Hurrah f<>r Toojnbs-1 '

[50 j

CHAPTER III
A POLITICAL BARBECUE
A CHANGE was taking place around us. There was more political agitation, and the discussion seemed to become more heated. I could hear them talk at the fireside of a abig speech" made by this man or that man, at this place or that, and the position taken by the speaker would be gravely com mented on by my grandfather. Occasionally he would have his body-servant, Wilson, drive him to some mass-meeting in the vicinity where Toombs, or Stephens, or Ben Hill was to speak. Upon his return he would tell us about it, repeating the points made by the orator, describing the conduct and demon strations of the audience, and, generally, giving us an account of some " fist and skull " fight which had taken place between rival bullies. With it all/ my grandfather began to suspect that storms were brew ing. But most people Itooted at the idea that there would be any war, and it was current belief that the Yankees were boasters who would not fight. Every Southern man could whip five of them, and so forth. Toombs had declared that he would drink all the
[51J

BETHANY
blood that was spilled; and had, moreover, said that " we could whip 'em with corn-stalks."
It was just such wild talk as this which made Toombs the hero of the hustings, and caused the elders to mistrust his judgment. Only such intimate friends as Stephens knew how cool was Toomhs at the council board, and how wan.' when the time came for action. The South believed he said he would drink all the blood that was shed; and the Xorth. believed that he had boasted that he would call the roll of his slaves on Bunker Hill; yet it was-this same Toombs who was to do his utmost to compromise the differences between the two sections; and it was he who, standing alone in his attitude of protest, was to warn his associates not to fire upon Fort Sumter!
"VVe began to hear of brash speeches made by Northern leaders, and I could see how wrathful these speeches made our people. Seward had said that the conflict between Xorth and South was irre pressible; Lincoln had declared that the Union could not exist half slave and half free; Zach Chandler had said tha'; what the countrvt, needed was some blood-letting. Seward had publicly appealed to the Xorthern citizen to " defend the fugitive slave as he would his household gods." Garrison and Phil lips were denouncing the Union, and the Constitu tion which tolerated slavery, and were clamoring for disunion.
Above all the individual threats and insults and
[53]

A POLITICAL BARBECUE
challenges rang the great war-cry of the abolition movement that the Constitution which their fathers and ours had made, signed, and sworn to, was a dead letter, a league with death and a covenant with hell! God! How that kind of talk up Xorth did fire the hot-heads down South!
The Alabama orator, William L. Yancey, who had been put in the background a few years before on account of his extreme secession views, had re gained his leadership, increased his power, and was lashing the people to madness. He held Alabama in the hollow of his hand. He toured the South, the North, the "West, making State-Rights speeches in favor of slavery. -Perhaps, he was the most aggressive agitator in the South, yet so wonderful was the man's magnetism and gift of speech that he met ovations even in ISTew England. Give him ten minutes to get started and he seemed to be able to talk anvt- mixed crowd off its feet. And now,/ at this critical period, he had quit his law practice and was giving his whole soul and time to the advocacy of extreme pro-slavery ideas. He was even under stood to be in favor of reopening the slave trade by legal enactment. -
AVnile things were in this whirl and turmoil, a mass-meeting was announced for Bethany. Toombs and Stephens, who were, personally, the best of friends, had drifted apart, politically; and they were combating each other, might and main. They had
[53]

BETHANY

consented to have a friendly,' discussion at Bethany. Hence, our local excitement. A joint debate

]

bet\veen two such men was an event. Everybody

t

I

wanted to be there.

i

A committee to arrange the details was arranged;

I

and the members of it went around among the pron.-

{

inent planters asking contributions to the barbecue,

without which a Southern mass-meeting would have

lacked an essential ingredient. AVho would give a

" carcass" I That is, who would donate a shoat,

lamb, beef, or goat ? Who would give a barrel of

bread? TVho a keg of cider? "Who would haul the

lumber to make the stand for the speakers, the

benches for the ladies to sit upon, the tables for the

dinner? There was no difficulttyj about this: two enthusiastic citizens volunteered to be responsible for

anv shortage. Thev onlv lost one hundred dollars

*/

TM

ft,

apiece on the guarantee--a fact which one of them

feeblvV and mournfullyt* refers to even now,7 in his extreme old age.

Up went the speakers' stand, six feet above the

ground, and over this was framed a sloping shelter:

in front ranged planks, resting'on logs, with seats

for the ladies: awatv off to one side ran the trench where the carcasses were to be swung over the glow

ing coals of oak and hickory wood; and not far from

this pit ran, from tree to tree, the dinner-table--two

undressed pine planks resting side to side on brackets

nailed to trees, and supported by plank legs--and

[54]

A POLITICAL BARBECUE
this hasty table stretched out fifty feet long or more, under the trees. On each side of this plank table the people would stand and eat--using fingers and pocket-knives in primitive fashion. During the evening preceding the great day, and all during the night, the committee and its assistants were hard at work--receiving the dressed carcasses, the barrels of bread, watching the pits where the fires glowed and where in the early morning the carcasses would be swung to be slow-cooked over the coals.
The great day came, and with it the " big speak ers," and the crowds of people.
" Mother, let me go? " I teased and teased and teased; till finally grandfather said: " Let him go, Martha," and my mother fitted my Sunday hat to my head, gave me a clean handkerchief, and away we went. Vehicles had been passing since day break, all heading for Bethany. The dust from buggies and wagons hung.over the road for miles, as far as eye could reach. We trotted along, pass ing the wagons and the slower buggies, exchanging greetings as we did so, and catching parts of conversa tions that were 'being hold by those whose vehicles traveled close together. Politics, politics, it was all about politics. Some man would sing out " Hurrah' for Stephens! " another would shout for Toombs. My grandfather was not the man to shout for any body in his old age, but he was a great- admirer of Toombs, and always voted his way.
[55]

B E THANY
"What a crowd there was in the woods on the ridge just beyond the western limits of Betliany! Wagons, ox-carts, buggies, carriages, were scattered about over acres of ground: saddle-horses were hitched to swinging limbs; men on foot were coming on every path. By ten o'clock it was a mass-meet ing, indeed. Ladies filled the seats in front of the stand, children ran in and out among the benches, babies cried, and many a mother could be seen suck ling these infants as modestly as the thing could he done under the circumstances. To the rear of 'the benches and far out upon both sides the men were standing, hats on. The smoke and the smell of the barbecue were already ascending to quicken appe tites with suggestions of the feast to come, and pre liminary shouts, cheers for this speaker or that, were making the woods ring.
The committee leading the way, the " big speakers" mounted" the steps. There was royal Tocmbs, with his unlit cigar, his gold-headed cane, his mass of disordered hair which became him so--his lofty port, his dark, handsome face, his big, black eyes, which flashed with the joy of battle.
There was Stephens, so frail looking, so wan and sad, so self-possessed and reserved, looking so much like 'some old spinster dressed in man's clothing. In fact, there were those who. said that he, like the famous John Kandolph of Koanoke, was--well,
[56]

A POLITICAL BARBECUE
never mind, for it was not true, and I myself heard Richard Malcolm Johnston say that Stephens was just as much a full-sexed man as anybody. When you looked at Stephens closely you saw that he was tall, that his chest was good, that his neck was large, his cheek-bones prominent, his jaw strong, his fore head high and broad, and when you looked into the depth of his large brown eyes you met a glance which commanded your confidence, your good-will, your respect.
Mr. Stephens spoke first. The contrast between him--his meager frame and squeaky voice--and Bob Toombs's superb physical endowment was pain ful, creating a feeling of pitying sympathy. But in a short time the feeble frame of Stephens was seen to become galvanized by his own electrical power, and the thia voice made friends with the ear, as it rose into higher, fuller volume, becoming at length an almost perfect tenor which carried every syllable to the uttermost limits of the crowd. He practised none of the graces of oratory, drove straight to his point, used many long sentences with qualifying clauses, and would tell an occasional anecdote to illus trate his argument. Xow and then as he approached a climax his long right arm would be stretched on high, held rigid until the last word of the sentence was rushing from his thin lips, and, with these last words, 'down would come the hand, striking the open palm of the left with a resounding smack; and tlien
[57]

BETHANY

such a roar of applause there would be from the

assembled thousands!

People of this generation who only heard Stephens

after the war can form, no conception of what he was

in his prime. For an hour the shrill, tenor voice

rang through the woods, and then Stephens sat down,

wet with sweat, his collar limp as a rag. Out of a

ceoodl&v/ bottle he was furnished bvt/ his black bodyf servant, Harry, with a glass of stimulant, and was

carefully wrapped in a voluminous overcoat.

Then came Toombs. He dealt in no finesse, told

no anecdotes, steered clear of personalities, deal

ing in direct assault and sledge-hammer blows. Side-

issues were nothing to him, subordinate points he

would not notice. He massed all his strength,

hurled it ajcrrainst the real center of resistance,/ hurled it with all his power, every gun in action, and lost

or won in this concentrated assault on the strong

point. He used the strongest arguments, the fiercest

invertive, the keenest ridicule--there were flashes

of wit, flights of eloquence, figures of speech--all

poured out with torrent-like volume and rapidity.

He seemed to foraret evervtliin but his subiect. He

*w-

t

*----

M

ranted, he roared, he stamped, he rushed back and

forth,--his arms furious with gesticulations, his hair

tossed about like the mane of a plunging horse, the

froth flying from his lips.

You never saw anything like it! A torrent

bursting through a mountain gorge; a wind-storm,

[58]

ROBERT TOOMBS.

A POLITICAL BARBECUE
with, thunder and lightning, tearing through a forest; a volcano in eruption--these were the things Toombs's speech reminded you of; and when you once heard Bob Toombs " on the stump " you could speak of it in the same tone as that used when one said, " I saw Jeb Stuart lead a cavalry charge," or " I saw Pickett's brigade at Gettysburg." It was a thing you could never forget; and nothing else was like it in elemental grandeur.
The line of reasoning taken by Mr. Stephens was that the time had not come for extreme measures. He contended that Congress would not and could not abolish slavery;' that the power of the South in the Senate, aided as it was by Xorthern Democrats, could not be overridden; that the Supreme Court was on our side,/ and was readtv/ to declare null and void anv* letg_. islation which w. ent beiv^ ond constitutional limits. The burden of the address was: " Be patient, wait till the Xorth attempts to put its threats into practise. Let them be the first to dis rupt the Union, not you. The Senate stands be tween you and fanaticism; the Supreme Court is your rampart. "\Vashington city, the national cap ital, is Southern to the core; and the chiefs of the army are men of Southern birth; don't abandon a position which can not be stormed. Don't play into the hands of your enemy, as the Scotch army did at Dunbar, by vacating lines which as long as you remain in. them are impregnable to attack."
[59]

BETHANY
He spoke of the many noble men of the Xorth who were our friends. Some of the best types of men he had ever known were of Northern birth and lineage. They were clean and strong and brave and true--better men did not breathe the breath of life.
Why alienate such friends as these ? Why not remain in a position in which we could expect their help ? Why venture into a secession movement which would make it impossible for the Xorthern Demo crats to render us anvtf service ?
He argued that the South had prospered in the Union, that within the last ten years Georgia had doubled her wealth. He declared that the growth of the United States was the wonder and admiration of the world. The government was not perfect, but what human institution could be perfect? It was an improvement upon England's, and far better than that of any other country on the globe. Why incur the awful risks of breaking up such a Union? Wait till Congress had violated the Constitution. Don't presuppose it violated. Let the other side commit the glaring wrong; do the unconstitutional tiling-- then strike. In that case, give them lead, if need be. In such a case he himself would be for dis union.
" Our institutions have made us what we are-- great, prosperous, progressive. Destroy those insti tutions, and what would we be ? The life would pass from the body politic, as it passed from Greece and
[60J.

A POLITICALBARBECUE
Rome. There has been much talk of the fishery boun ties and navigation laws, but they were passed when the South was in control of the government, and the South has made no serious effort to repeal them. Then there is the tariff which, it is claimed, plunders the South, for the benefit of the North. But the last tariff act lowered the .duties to the revenue basis and Massachusetts voted with South Carolina. My friend Toombs himself voted for the bill.
" As to the fugitive slave law, I admit it has been nullified, but I would have the South seek redress in a legal way before resorting to secession. Let that Southern state whose citizen has suffered present for mal claim for redress to the state wherein the wrong was committed. If the wrong be not righted, retali ate on the property of that state arid upon the prop erty of citizens of that state.
" Let us also demand of the Northern states the repeal of their nullification acts--the personal liberty bills--and if these demands are not heeded, I will join you in setting up another government in which our rights will be protected.
" In my judgment, the states have the right to secede whenever the fundamental conditions of the compact, as embodied. in the Constitution, are vio lated; but I do not believe you have the right to secede simply because the North elects a President whom the South does not like. I am a Jeffersonian Democrat and believe that every people have the
[611

BETHANY

inherent, natural right to make and to change and

to abolish their form of government, at will; but I

also believe that such a right is one to 'be exercised

only in extreme cases, where the liberty and the hap

piness of the people can be preserved in no other

wav. t>

a countrvmen, no such crisis has as vet come

t

'

I/

upon you. It is threatened, I grant: but as yet it

is no more than a threat, I coniure vou bv all vou

U

C-

fc.

*/

hold dear, all that vou hold sacred, do not be driven

/



/'

7

into rash measures. Wait, wait, wait!

"'Whenever the time comes that the Xorth com

mits the unconstitutional act, giving you the full

legal provocation "

Here the withered arm was held up as high as the

orator could reach, the maimed, stiff fingers out

stretched upward

" You will not need to doubt where Alec Stephens

is: he will be with his people, to live and die in the

defense of Southern rights! "

The hand had come down, swift as a hawk-swoop,

had slapped the open palm of its mate with a resound

ing smack, and the crowd was yelling wildly.

During the address of Stephens, Toombs had

turned and twisted on his seat, crossing and uncross

ing^ his legC;s,' and nervouslLv. shifting his unlit ciivTr1 ar. Time and again he had thrown up his hand and

tossed his hair. When Stephens closed, he barely

awaited the chairman's announcement before he went

[62}

A POLITICAL BARBECUE

to work. Almost without preliminaries, he grappled

with the prominent points involved in the discus

sion.

The K^orth had broken the conditions upon which

the Constitution had been adopted--broken it in the

personal liberty bills which nullified the fugitive

slave law; broken it by denying us the fundamental

principle of equality in the common territory; broken

it by electing to the highest offices, state and national,

avowed enemies to the Constitution and to the

Union, men who had declared over and over again

that there was a " higher law" than the Constitu

tion, men who had declared that the Union must be

dissolved if slavery could be got rid of in no other

way, men who had organized sectional hatred and by

a geographical line of cleavage had already cut the

Union in two.

Had not William Lloyd Garrison publicly burned

the Constitution, denouncing it as a covenant with

death and a league with hell?

Had not Congressmen, like Seward and Wade,

and

Abraham

Lincoln

virtually i/

declared

that

the

constitutional guarantees in favor of slaver}" were

waste paper?

The time had passed when the abolitionists were

a despised minority. They were growing every day

--growing bolder, more violent, more lawless.

Had Southern people forgotten Kansas and

" Beecher's Bibles "--the Sharp's rifles, which had

[63]

BETHANY

been bought by public subscriptions in the North

ern churches and sent to Kansas for the avowed pur

pose of preventing Southern men from enjoying in

that territory the equality of property rights guar

anteed by the supreme law of the land?

Had they forgotten the five helpless, unoffending,

unsuspecting white settlers from the South into

whose humble homes in Kansas John Brown had

broken, at the dead hour of the night, and whose

lives he had taken with the ferocitv of a maniac-- v
tearing these peaceful citizens from the arms of their

wives, from the clinging hands of their children, and

butchering them in cold blood!

* And for what?

Because they were men of the South!

The abolitionists were no longer to be despised.

They were fast climbing to power. The very vio

lence of their crusade tended to their success in the

communities in which they worked. Their energy,

their organization, their honest fanaticism would

sweep all barriers away. Even now the politicians

of the North were taking hold of the movement and

giving it intelligent manipulation. The honest

fanatic, the abolitionist, is to be used as a lever to

drive the South from power. When that is done

slavery is doomed. The men whom the abolitionists

elect

will

not

dare

disobev t,

the

fierce

sentiment

to

which they will owe their elevation. Slavery is

doomed--no matter what any man may say. Cry

[641

A POLITICAL BARBECUE

peace! till the heavens fall!---there is no peace. And

when the South shall have been driven from power,

not only will the equality of the states be over

thrown, but the centralizing principles of Hamilton

will enter the open door of the long-coveted oppor-

tunitv. t Have we not had provocation, heaped up, running

over? Suppose we compromise again, will the Xorth

keep faith any better than she did on the Calhoun-

Clay compromise during nullification times? Was

that not a fair-square agreement between sections?

Calhoun and the South lived up to it; the North

ignored it, inside of ten years.

Is not their purpose plain? Have their threats no

meaning? Are the publicly declared purposes of

the black Republicans and the abolitionists generally

to be treated as empty words?

" I tell you it is the coiled snake, springing its

rattle! Will you stand idle--waiting for the deadly

fangs? I tell you it is the first low growl of the

thunder. Will you take no thought of shelter from

the coming storm ?

" It is your foe, your hereditary foe, arming,

threatening, seeking your life! Will you wait like

tame cowards to be overwhelmed ? "

Toombs had not spoken twenty minutes before he

had obliterated (for the majority) all that had been

said on the other side. In his favor were sectional

prejudice, local pride, suspicious self-interest, the

C

[65]

BETHANY

political education of a generation, and the natural

love of combat of a hot-blooded people.

Rapidly he went over the historical ground, and

then continued: " I low long has it been," he cried,

in passionate tones, " since lawless men fitted out

a slave ship, the "Wanderer, and brought a cargo of

niggers, fresh from Africa, to Savannah? Was not

the captain of that pirate-ship a full-blooded Yankee,

and was it not found impossible to get him arrested

in Xew York until Jere Black, Attorney General

of the United States,/ entrusted the dutvi/ to his assistant, Henry R. Jackson, of Savannah ? "

He arraigned the Northern states for the hypocrisy

of their emancipation acts. " Even now," he said,

" the white sails of Xorthern slave-ships flutter in

evervv sea. Ei<c?rhtv/ odd such shipj. s cleared from Xew

York this verv vear.

*/

/

" They didn't pass their emancipation laws." he

shouted, " till they had sold us their niggers."

Here the crowd v, eiled. " Vermont led off in the business and claims the

credit of the first emancipation act. How many

niggers do you suppose Vermont had when she

passed her great act of freedom ? She had seven

teen."

Yells and roars of laughter and shouts of ".Go it,

Toombs! Give 'em hell."

The orator continued: " They preach to us of our

duty and yet we have set free by voluntary act in the

[661

A POLITICAL BARBECUE
South a greater number of negroes than were emanci pated by the ISTew England states."
" Yes," continued Toombs, " and after Yennont had freed the seventeen niggers which she could not sell, she turned round with the impudence of your true Pharisee and demanded that Virginia should follow her glorious example--Virginia, which num bers her slaves by the quarter million." He quoted John Kandolph's remark, that in reference to negro slavery the South was in the position of the hunter who had the wolf bv^ the ears. " It was difficult to hold on and dangerous to turn loose." He argued that suddeiij general emancipation would be bad for the blacks as well as for the whites; that the South alone understood the question and must be allowed to deal with it; that the question was entirely beyond the jurisdiction of Congress, so far as the states were concerned; and that for Congress to meddle with it was usurpation--such an invasion of reserved rights, such a violation of principle as no brave people ever did or ever would submit to without a fi\g_/ht. The states had gone into the Union, one by one, as sepa rate, sovereign communities. They had entered only upon written conditions. If those conditions were violated, the contract was at an end, andjthe states could separately go out as they had separately gone'in.
In a voice which vibrated with passion, while his whole frame quivered, as you have seen a steam
[ 67 1

BETHANY

engine throb under a high pressure of steam, he

shouted: " Why blind ourselves to facts, why be wilfully

deaf? The whole Xorth is organizing its traditional

hatred of the South, and unless you are willing to

free the niggers, of your own accord, it will be done

in spite of you. It all comes to this--submission to

their behests, cowardly surrender of your rights as

freemenj or resistance. " And I tell you now that if you surrender to their

dictation, the l-os's of vour slaves will not be the worst feature of the social revolution. The same fanatics

who demand this will demand more, and more, till

God alone can foretell where it will end.

" These Xew Englanders hate us, have ever hated

us--under forms of law, they rob us, have ever

robbed us! They despoiled us after the revolution

ary war when they compelled the general govern

ment to assume their state debts--debts which thevi/ had made no efforts to pay, and which under their

damnable tariffs we of the agricultural section have

been compelled to pay. Yes, under Hamilton's in

famous scheme, the South had not only to pay her

own war-debts, but Xew England's, too! Who was

enriched bv the funding svstem? The Yankee who

I/

<~J

V

speculated in the miseries of his country! Where

are" the fortunes which the tariff niches from the

pockets of Southern people? In the Xorth. Whose

money dredges the Xew England river, and creek,

[68]

A POLITICAL BARBECUE
and harbor? Yours, the hard-earned dollars of the South, paid in taxes, tariff taxes, which under the hypocritical plea of protecting the American laborer pillages the unprivileged many of the South to en rich the specially favored few of the !N\>rth!
" Pharisees, hypocrites, robbers! Did not they threaten to secede when James Madison was de manding of Spain that the Mississippi River be opened to American commerce ? Yes, and why ? Be cause they grudged the South that imperial water way to prosperity, wishing to keep her in depend ence upon themselves. Did they not threaten to secede because the vast Louisiana country was about to be annexed to the Union--and again when Texas knocked at our door? Yes--and again why? Because they wrere jealous of the South, grudged her increase of power, hating her as they have always done--hating her as the narrow, bigoted, close-fisted Puritan has always hated the genial, tolerant, liberal Cavalier. Under the Louisi ana purchase, Texas was ours. We needed and wanted it. The Xorth feared an extension of South ern power, threatened us with disunion, and we had to turn loose Texas, and buy Florida to keep the jSTorthern politicians satisfied. Go read Andrew Jackson's letter of 1820 where he advises that we give up Texas to pacify the Xorth."
This was a telling point and created a sensation. Enthusiasts tv> eiled,y " Go it,* Toombs! "
[691

BETHANY
He continued: " By special license of the Spanish king, slavery existed in Louisiana. By our treaty of purchase, Napoleon Bonaparte bound us to protect the people, their religion and their property; yet the Xorth has destroyed slave property in immense areas of the Louisiana purchase. Loyal ? They boast of fidelity to the Union? Since when have they become enti tled to such a distinction? Was it during the em bargo when Xew England schemed disunion, and her leaders held treasonable relations with the national foe--the British? Did not John Quincy Adams go to President Jefferson and tell him that Xew England leaders had arranged for their own safety by separate agreement with Great Britain, and that Xew England's relations with the L^nion would be suspended? "Was not this threat of Xew England the cause of our national weakness and shame at that crisis? Who lit the signal-fires which blazed along Xew England's coast to warn British vessels whether to anchor? Who nullified the Presi dent's proclamations when he called for troops? Where did selfish leaders, with no thought of the national honor, secure the election of delegates to a secession convention, coercing the President into making a dishonorable peace to prevent the disrup tion of the Union? "In Xew England--Xew England, which has always used the government for her own purposes,
[70]

A POLITICAL BARBECUE
which knocks forever at the door of the national treasury and never gets enough--New England, which eternally prays the Pharisee's prayer, and grabs an' appropriation with every amen! Hiding the greedy finger of the tax-gatherer in the tariff, where the unconscious citizen pays his tax in the price of the goods, she has steadily increased the people's burdens, steadily increased the sums which flow into the treasury, and, while her favored^classes pile up fortunes out of governmental discriminations, she as a section takes ten dollars out of the treasury for every one that she puts in.
" Every time a Yankee catches a cod-fish the tax payers of the South have to pay him a bounty for it.
" One of her own Senators declared in the Senate that ' without the tariff, New England would be a howling wilderness.' In other words, your tribute makes her wealth. "Who can doubt the final result? The East, which God made poor, will, by unrighteous legislation, be made rich; while the South, which God made rich, in all natural advantages, will be impoverished. The unscrupulous lawmaker, more of a robber than the corsair or buccaneer ever was, has so contrived his laws that wealth will be transferred, by the million, every year, from the pockets of one class to those of another--from one section to the other. What do they really care for the nigger? Nothing! By their laws their nigger is no citizen. The citizenship is limited by law to the whites, all
[ 71 1

B E THANY

over the Xorth. In Massachusetts it is a crime for

a free nigger to remain in the state more than two

days. In Connecticut didn't the Legislature pass an

act forbidding the education, of negroes, and didn't a

mob break up Prudence Crandall's school for colored

girls, set fire to her house, and terrorize her into

submission ?

" Do they treat their laborers as well as we treat

ours? Do they nurse them when sick, and support

them In their old age? Xo! It.'s the old hatred and

jealousy again. We made slaver}' a success and they

didn't; we are out-running them in the race of pros

perity--the figures show it--and they want to strike

us a crippling blow, by disorganizing our whole labor

system^ our entire industrial fabric. Who can fore

see the consequences if the government usurps the

power to dictate to us about our domestic concerns?

If the fanatics of Xew England can emancipate the

negro, what .else will they do for him? They can

not leave him alone. Will they give him the ballot ?

Will they try to legislate him into equality with you?

Will they trv to force vou to open your dwellings to

t/

*/

*/

J.

/

o

him, your public offices to him, your schools and your

jury-boxes to him? Even now Judge William Jay,

of Xe-w York, a son of the famous John Jay, who

twice sold out the South in commercial treaties to

benefit the Xorth, has published a statement that the

purpose of the abolition movement is not only to

free the nigger, but to elevate him to civil and politi-

[73]

A POLITICAL BARBECUE
cal equality with the whites. And where is the idiot who doesn't know that if you give the nigger civil and political equality you can not deny social equality ? Do you want social equality in the South ? "
This time there were no hand-claps, no yells--only a silence of intense feeling. Like a clarion, the voice of Toombs rang out in the stillness:
" Social equality ? Yes, and there's a deeper hell than even that into which these madmen would plunge us ! It is miscegenation ! "
" Oil, Toombs, mind what you say! What is your authorityi/ for that ?"
It was Mr. Stephens interrupting, in a voice of remonstrance.
So great was the excitement in the crowd that women rose from their seats, and the pressure of the men towards the stand was tremendous. Toombs did not halt nor hesitate:
" What is myt/ authorityt/ ? Miy/ honorable friend demands authority--he shall have it!
" Wendell Phillips is the Peter the Hermit of this Abolition Crusade--what does lie say?
" Of miscegenation he says that t it is God's own method of crushing out the hatred of race, and of civilizing and elevating the world.'
" Henry Ward Beech er, brother to her who wrote ( Uncle Tom's Cabin '--what does he say ?
" Discussing this very question of intermarriage between whites and blacks, he declares ' that every
[ 73 ]

BETHANY

great nation has been married into its greatness by

the union of manv stocks. Bv-and-bv the negro of

t

t/

i,

C_

the South, growing paler with every generation, will

at last completely hide his face under the snow.'

" Is Horace Greelev an authority on abolition

e,

t

views ? Well, Greelev also defends intermarriage be

tween the negroes and the whites.

" So does Theodore Tilton,/ Cassius M. Clavt ,' Congressman X. P. Banks, Lucretia Mott, and dozens of

others of the leaders--and no man need doubt that

the apostles I have already named speak the true

sentiments of the abolition movement!

" What will be ty, our future if fanaticism be not checked? Xo man can foretell! But I warn you

with all the earnestness of mvt,' nature that if Congress can usurp the power to free the slave, you have

everything to fear--your, civilization, built up at such

vast expense of toil and blood, will be at stake!

Your safetyt, as a~~ race will be at stake! The most

sacred interests of home and fireside will be at stake!

Thev/ hate vou / ! * The/ y * hate/vou ! And the black pSr assions which drive them on now to denounce the Con

stitution of our fathers as a covenant with hell, will

hurryt- them on to arm three million savag\, es with the power of the ballot, impelled by no other motive

under God Almighty's heaven than to punish the

South; degrade the South; impoverish, pollute, .and

everlastingly blight the South ! "

Xever in mytf life have I seen an orator more im-
[74"

A POLITICAL BARBECUE

passioned, an audience more deeply stirred. Women

had quit waving handkerchiefs, men no longer

clapped hands and cheered. Xo: they sat there in

deathlike stillness, faces white and rigid, eyes

blazing--some with lips parted as though they had

been running. To know how the South felt at that

time one must have been at such a mass-meeting as

this and heard William L. Yancey, of Alabama, or

Bob Toombs, of Georgia.

In his conclusion Mr. Stephens was not at his best.

The demonstrations of the crowd had, perhaps, dis

couraged him. But he packed as much good sense

into the half-hour as any man could have done.

He called attention to the fact that the fugitive

slave matter was not a serious grievance to Georg

ians :

it

concerned, 7

mainlv, v7

the

border

states.

He

protested that the line of argument taken by Toombs

was not fair, since it held the entire Xorth responsi

ble for the acts of extremists, minorities, and fanat

ics. Would the South like to'be judged by the same

standard ?

He contended that much of our trouble had its

origin in the honest misunderstanding of one another

on the part of both Xorth and South. In such a

case moderation, in word and deed, was the best

medicine.

Let us be patient, let us stand on the defensive, let

us be the last to violate the peace or the law. We

could not possibly lose anything by waiting until the

[75]

BETHANY
abolitionists should commit some act which would prove to all the world that the Constitution had been wantonly disregarded, and our solemnly guaranteed rights under it openly and flagrantly trampled upon. Should the abolitionists do this, we should then have just cause for secession, and the public sentiment of the world would be on our side.
Otherwise it would be made to appear that we . were rash and unreasonable, and that our purpose was to destroy the government because we had not been allowed to extend slavervt, .
In that event we would appear to the world to be fighting for slavery, and the public sentiment would be acg* ainst us.
"We would find that this power could do us im mense injury if the Xorth won it and we lost it.
It was long after the usual dinner-hour when the audience split up and gathered about the tables; and even as the rough-and-ready feast went on, the speeches were excitedly discussed.
Suddenly there' was a rush of feet, the sound of angry voices, and the cry rang out: "A fight! A fight! Make a ring! Fair play! "
A lay preacher, named Ilillman, being jeered at by a stalwart fellow-citizen for an alleged change of front on the political issues, hotly denied the charge --giving the lie to his accuser. ^Thereupon, Thom son, the said accuser, flung off his coat, rolled up his
[76]

A POLITICAL BARBECUE

sleeves, and rushed upon Hillman. Before he could

grapple, a still more stalwart man, equally ready to

fight, " stepped across ". Thomson in such a way as to

trip him up--Thomson falling to the ground, with

Hood, the interloper, on top of him. Hood immedi

ately inserted his thumbs into Thomson's eyes, to

gouge them out. The fight was stopped--but not be

fore Thomson was blinded for that day. His friends

led him away, and put him in a buggy to be driven

home. It was several weeks before he recovered the

use of one eye; the other had been destroyed.

Xot long before we were to start home, I witnessed

a difficulty between three Democrats. They were

more or less drunk, and were great friends. The

most intoxicated of the three was a tall, strong man

named Bean. His friends, Bohler and Carter, were

trying to get him started home. Bean was obstrep

erous and would not entertain the proposition.

Bohler insisting, Bean became quarrelsome and said

things calculated to anger his friend Bohler. But

Bohler took it all in good part, laughed tipsily, and

kept saying to Bean " Come! let's go home." For

the third or fcurth time Bean pushed Bohler off, and

swore at him. And then to my amazement Carter,

who had not been pushed or cursed at, showed signs

of furious anger, and muttering " I'll put a stop to

this," rushed upon Bean with an open knife. I saw

Carter lav the blade to Bean's cheek, to his chin, to

i/

77

both sides of the neck, and as the blade was lifted

[77]

BETHANY the blood gushed 'from four wounds. Bean did nothing, was too drunk, too dazed to do anything; and when Captain Lansdell stepped between them and said, *' This must stop," Carter shut up his knife and put it in his pocket as suddenly as he had com menced the cutting. They sent for the nearest doc tor; and while the doctor was dressing the wounds the head of Bean was held affectionately in the lap of the man who had cut him. And in the funniest, drunken way Carter was trying to explain to the bystanders what had occurred.
Bean kept on asking, " Carter, what did you cut me for ?" And each time the question was asked Carter commenced a new explanation. Each ver sion of it put the blame further away from Carter. The last I saw of them they were on their way home, Carter giving Bean his best attention and still elaborating that explanation. I got the impression that Carter had thoroug~hly*/ convinced himself that,/ if Bean had been cut at all, it was some party un known who had cut him.
[78]

CHAPTER IV
THE BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON
THE political storm that was brewing beat but faintly upon the inner life of our plantation. Daily routine ran smoothl*vj in the old ^g-~ rooves. 'The domestic atmosphere suffered no chancre. Master and slave, whites and blacks, were what they had always been. If any of our negroes ever thought of freedom, we had no suspicion of the fact. We took no precau tions: we saw nothing to awaken distrust. Those who toiled and those who rested went the usual rounds.
One day I saw a squad of men on horseback rid ing into the field where the overseer was with the hands. Pretty soon they all rode to a tree near by; and it was not long before I saw them galloping around the tree in a wide circle. I could hear shouts from the riders--shouts mingled with laughter. Round and round they sped, full speed, for a quarter of an hour. Such a queer caper I had never before witnessed, and I stood there looking at it, lost in wonder. They looked like a lot of lunatics out for recreation and fresh air.
[ 79 ]

BETHANY
At length, with a final hubbub and uproarious laughing, the mounted squad rode off, leaving the overseer, alive and well, where he had been before the lunatics arrived. Immenselv/ relieved,* I ran to mother, and asked what on earth it all meant.
" Oh, it was just a gander-pulling," she said, in tones of disgust. I suppose you know what a ganderpulling was. A lot of wild fellows would grease the neck and head of a gander, hang him to a high limb by the feet, and ride as fast as horses could go, around the tree and under the limb, each horseman taking a pull at the gander's head as he galloped past. The hero of the game, the winner of the stakes, was the fellow who finally pulled the gander's head off.
Yet, while life on the old homestead followed its former channel,' and the raging storm in the great world beyond did not beat in upon our heads, this was mainlv*- because mv, cg? randfather ^as a man of such moderate views and conservative character. He was not the man to get excited over politics. He had no taste for public affairs. Xeither would he argue and wrangle over.any question political or religious. He was a farmer; and nothing more. To be suc cessful in managing the plantation, satisfied him fully: he had no other ambition.
But the people around us were no longer the same. Even from the Big Road one caught snatches of con versation, pitched to a high, angry tone, as travelers talked public affairs to one another. At the post-
[80]

BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON

j

offices, at street corners, in hotels and barrooms, at

;

the blacksmith-shop and grist-mill, at the- court

houses and the churches--at all places where men

;

met for business or for pleasure there was a constantly

growing disposition to talk excitedly on politics.

Every visitor who dropped in at our home, to get

dinner or spend the night, was full of political news

and passion. And it would be the greatest mistake

in the world to believe that the slave-owners were

especially noisy and angry. .They were not. Some

of the hottest abuse of the Xorth, some of the bit

terest cursing of " the d----d Yankees," came

from men who had never owned a slave. More than

that, some of the extremists were men whose fathers,

men of the Xorth, had settled here, not many years

before.

You might suppose that the leading note of all

the indignation of the South was, " They want to take

our niggers away from us," but it wasn't. I never

heard anybody put it that way, except as incidental

to the main grievance, which was this: " They are

trying to run over us. They have broken the con

tract, have set aside the Constitution, have nullified

the law, have defied the Supreme Court, have been

trying for years to stir up the niggers to make war

on us, have organized to steal niggers and run them

off to Canada, have armed crazy men like old John

Brown and sent them among us to commence a slave

insurrection--an insurrection which means burning

7

[81]

BETHANY

homes and violated mothers, wives, and daughters!

We will die before we will let the South be made

another San Domingo! "

Fancy pictures had been painted of the baronial

state in which Southern planters lived: their negroes

had been compared to the retinue of European lords;

the gentry of the South were described as haughty,

domineering, cruelly despising the poor whites who

owned no slaves; and our treatment of the slaves was

represented as shockingly barbarous. Virulent and

persistent denunciation of the " Southern Aristoc

racy," the rapid spread of organizations pledged to

liberate the blacks even though the Union had to

be .disrupted in order to do it, appeals to a " higher

law " than that which had been agreed on as supreme,

and which had been consecrated btv- oaths as solemn' as men can take, gave to the whole abolition move

ment the appearance of being more of a crusade

against the South than of a sincere humanitarian

attempt at reform. The whole debate degenerated

int3 terrible invectives, not of s^verv, but of the

i

*" '

South. Our men-were " insolent slave-drivers," living

in kingly state and amassing untold wealth. Thus

envy, jealousy, and the malicious desire to pull down

were appealed to, and class-hatred summoned to the

field.. Southern sympathizers living in the Xorth

wrote frequently of the constant, tremendous, and

increasingly successful efforts being made to organize

the one section against the other on the basis of sec-

[82]

BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON
tional hatred. A current watchword at the North illustrated the feeling: " It is war between the Xorth and the South."
There are men who write books to prove that the French revolution was the work of a minoritv,
ts
and that the war of the American Revolution was the triumph of not much more than half the American people. Authors of that particular kind may pub lish books to prove that the slave-owners forced the South into secession; but authors who think, as well as write, will know better. It is true that during the later dreary years of the Civil War the saying became current, " This is a rich man's quarrel and a poor man's fight," but the men who said it probably knew that all wars present that feature. The poor men were the first to volunteer, fought the hardest, and were the last to give up. And upon them, when they volunteered, was no slave-holding compulsion of any sort. " Southern Rights " was the slogan--the rights which had been guaranteed to our fathers when they gave up the Old Confederation and went into the new compact of 1780.
Only the echoes of the great political battle of 1860 reached our remote farmhouse. Grandfather would drive out to Bethany, get his Augusta Chron icle and Sentinel, converse with neighbors and friends who were sure to be there, and return in time for dinner, when he would tell us the news. In
[83]

BETHANY

a dim way -we saw the war of elements that was going

on. The old man's face--worn into furrows by

many a grief, much toil, and sixty-five years--be

came verv ffloomv. Everv time that Wilson drove

*.

C7

t,

ts

him out to Bethany, and T caught sight of them

coming back along the Big Road, it seemed to me that my grandfather's head drooped lower..
I remember that it was a perfect day in the spring of 1860--a day upon which the Southern sun was writing a poem in every field, wreathing it in blos soms, and setting it to the music of rapturous birds

--a day upon which the odor of the freshly turned furrow was almost as sweet as the vagrant perfume

of the yellow jessamine--and not a cloud dimmed the

skv--when neighbor Morris, on his wav home from

/

V?

"

*-

town, halted at our front gate, and, while old Buck

barked, with idiotic energy, shouted these words to

my grandfather: u THE CHARLESTON CONVENTION

HAS BUSTED ALL TO HELL ! "'

Therebv-

hansrs ^-

a

tale, '

and

a

verv .

woful

tale.

The Democratic party was the majority party in

the United States. At the last Presidential election it had elected Buchanan President. But it had devel

oped factions. Xot only was there a bitter feud be tween Xorthern Democrats nnd Southern Democrats,

but there were wide and deep differences dividing

Southern Democrats, as well. The South had lost one great opportunity when it failed to support Webster in 1852. In failing to support Stephen A. Douglas

[841

BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON

in 1856 it is probable that another great opportunity

was lost. Douglas was a Western man, and his

nomination would have meant a political Union of

South and West--both agricultural sections where

Democratic principles are as natural as Federalist

principles are to the Xorth and East". Had Douglas

been supported by the Democrats of the South and

West, they could have elected him, and thus escaped

their degrading- connection with Aaron Burr's Tam

many Society.

It was not so ordered. Douglas could not " go

the whole hog" with the Southern leaders without

losing his political life in Illinois; he very naturally

refused to commit suicide; and the Southern

Democrats, led by extremists, refused to accept

him.

.

'

In the van, now, stood William L. .Yancey, of

Alabama, head and shoulders above all the leaders

of the South. He had taken the position, once so

dear to the Massachusetts Puritans, that slavery was

right, sanctioned by Holy Writ, justified by the laws

of nature, vindicated by the practise of nations from

the remotest ages. He contended that there never

should have been any compromise on the subject.

All the perils and the evils of the situation had come

upon us because of those compromises. We must

reject all half-way measures, repudiate trimmers

and time-servers, insist upon our right to carry our

slave-property wherever we pleased, and insist upon

[85]

BETHANY

the enforcement of the fugitive slave law. There

was but one alternative---secession.

Yancevv had carried Alabama on his distinctive platform; and he had been making speeches on the

same line in other states--long speeches, some of

them lasting four hours, which worked up his mon

ster meetings into the wildest enthusiasm.

Now came the crisis. The great Democratic party

was to hold its national convention in Charleston--

the hotbed of radicalism in the South. Could the

party be kept together? Could Democrats of the

Xorth and South agree upon platforms or candi

dates? If so, they could elect the President, and the

Union was safe. If the Democrats divided, the

Republicans would probably win, and in that event

secession was almost certain, for the Southern leaders

had alreadvt- declared that thev, would not submit to a President, pledged against the South.

Xever, therefore, was the assembling of a political

bodiv/ awaited with more concern than that which
met in Charleston in April, 1S60.

Yancey was a delegate, and, before the conven

tion met, ho had been making speeches in South

Carolina. Either this was a clear case of carrving

t

O

coals to Newcastle, or it proves that the Yancey

platform was considered extreme even by South

Carolina--the Hotspur of the Union.

The Douglas men were there in force, intensely

eager to have their chief nominated, but painfully

[86]

BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON
conscious of the fact that if he should be placed upon the Yancey platform it would kill him in the Xorth. With Abraham Lincoln already struggling with him for dear life, in Illinois, it would have been madness to give that shrewd manipulator, and hardhitter, any more advantage. Rarely has an ambi tious man been placed in a position so tantalizing as that of Douglas in 1860. The long-sought prize, the splendid reward of agonizing labor and persever ance and management, was at last within his grasp --if he could only hold his party together. How the " Little Giant," whose militant intellectuality fascinated even Harriet Beecher Stowe, must have ground his teeth, as he realized that fortune was mocking him! He had won the heart- of the South by denouncing abolition methods, and by his virtual repeal of the so-called Missouri Compromise; but this had so weakened him with his own people that he had been compelled to advance the doctrine of squatter sovereignty to placate the Xorth. In other words, he announced the principle that the people of a territory, prior to the adoption of a state con stitution, could prohibit slavery. To a lot of squat ters was given the, power to do what Douglas him self conceded that Congress could not do. Squatter sovereignty was so repulsive to the South that Doug las became the object of the fiercest opposition upon the part of such radicals as William L. Yancey.
Thus the "Little Giant" was tossed between the
[ 87 1

BETHANY
horns of a cruel dilemma: if he adhered to squatter sovereignty he lost the South; if he did not cling to it boldlv, ,> and aj<-_r>e-_ ressivelv*. ,J he lost the Xorth. Verily, he was between the devil and the deep sea.
Bitterest among the personal foes of Douglas, within the ranks of his own party, was James Buchanan, the President. The " Little Giant" had antagonized the administration policy in Kansas, and Buchanan's wrath ' had led him into several stormv interviews with his rebellious lieutenant.
Lf
" Sir, if you oppose the administration you will be crushed," said Buchanan.
" You forget that Andrew Jackson is dead," sneered Douglas, and they parted angrily.
The President, eager for revenge, had used all the strength of the administration to defeat the election of delegates favorable to the nomination of Douglas: and six hundred Democratic office-holders flocked to Charl eston to talk and wire-work acgainst the one great Democrat who might have been elected.
Three Democratic members of the national Sen ate, not delegates, attended the convention, so in tense was the anxiety to keep down strife within the party. They were Bayard, Bright, and Slidell.
While 'excited thousands were pouring- into Charleston, packing the hotels, and filling the streets, these Democratic Senators laid their heads together to devise some plan "by which the glorious old party of Jefferson and Jackson might be saved from ruin.
[ 88 ]

BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON

Among the delegates was the son of President

Zacharv Tavlor--General " Dick " Taylor, of Louisi- \

ts

U

V

/

'

ana, a man of rare mental gifts, brother-in-law to

Jefferson Davis.

The Senators sent for Tavv lor,7 and the result of the conference was that he went out to seek William

L. Yance. vtf . It was felt that the Alabama leader . held in his hand the ketv> to the situation. At his instance, his state had instructed her delegates to

withdraw from the Charleston convention if the

Alabama platform were not adopted. The Demo

cratic Senators felt convinced that such a platform

would moan death to the party in the Xorth. They

convinced Taylor, but could they convince Yancey?

He came to their room, listened to. what they had to

say, and was deeply impressed. He agreed to go

out and get the Alabama delegation together and to

use all his influence to prevail upon them to agree to

concessions. While he went forth into the night

to seek his colleagues, the Senators and Taylor

awaited, anxiously, for his return. Hour after hour

passed, midnight came and went, and still they

waited, painfully conscious of the tremendous results

depending upon the efforts of Yancey.

A child starts a fire which all the men on earth

can not put out: one man raises a storm which

no human power can control. Yancey had armed

the furies,* and now thevi. scorned him! It was almost

daybreak when he at length came back to the room

[89 ]

BETHANY

where the Senators were waiting for him. The Ala

bama delegation had refused to disobey its instruc

tions; and, that the irony of fate might be complete

in its perverse cruelty, the man who had now bearded

Yancev and refused to abandon the instructions was V
he who had opposed them in the Alabama conven

tion and who had been routed bv Yancev. A stub-

tf

U

born man, named AVinston, had brought to naught

the utmost efforts of the Democratic Senators, of

General Tavlor, and of Yancev himself.

*

'

*

Xothing was now left but to fight the issue out in

the Charleston convention. That body grappled

with its task. The Douglas men drew first blood--

Gushing, of ^Massachusetts, was made chairman. It

was clear that the " Little Giant" had a decided

majority, in spite of the Southern " fire-eaters," and

the pie-counter cohorts of Buchanan. The excite

ment from the first was great, the crowds in attend

ance larger than the hall would hold. There were

morning sessions and evening sessions; there were

speeches in abundance; but not until the committee

on platform should report, could anything decisive

be done. Therefore, Yancev held himself in re

serve.

At last the platform committee was ready, and it

made two reports. The majority report was against

Yancev. Meanwhile day after day was passing and

there were no consoling signs of reconciliation be

tween the opposing factions. The rift seemed to

[90]

BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON
widen, the antagonism to grow in rancor. Prayers were offered up in the churches that a spirit of har mony might prevail. There was not sufficient faith, or something, in these prayers, and they were just so much wasted breath.
Senator Pugh, of Ohio, was 'devoted to Douglas, and was a\ devoted Democrat: to see the torn condi tion of the Democratic party filled him with grief. The old man was doing his level best to hold the factions together, to adjust some compromise upon which Democrats of all sections could stand. But, dear me! it is only the master spirit which can ride the storm, and Pugh was no master spirit, Ben Butler had spoken, Gushing had spoken, Pugh had spoken, dozens of others had spoken, and yet Yancey held back.
At length one evening he was seen to rise from his seat and come to the front. Instantly the mighty throng felt the electric shock--the supreme moment had come! Almost as one person, the multitude sprang to its feet, women waving white handker chiefs and men cheering at the top of their voices. It was the welcome of a people to its champion. He stood there waiting for silence, a smile on his lips, a glow of feeling in his face; his tall, well-knit figure erect; his rather long black hair deepening the white of the manly, handsome countenance. At the sound of his voice a hush fell over the whole house, and in the simplest manner in the world, without flourish
C 91 ]

BETHANY
or formality, lie began that historic speech. What a voice he had! It filled the vast hall with music. It rose and fell, rose and fell, with never a break in
its perfect melody. Yancev*/ was no ranter. He did not strike atti-
tildes, make flails of his arms, or foam at the mouth, or stamp the floor. Like Sargent S. Prentiss, he stood in his place and delivered his message; and, like Prentiss, no man moved while he spoke. What was his charm? Where lay his power? He under stood his subject; he understood the people; he used simple words; he used short, positive sentences. He went right to the minds and hearts of his hearers with reasoning they could follow and language which was their own. With thrilling power and passion he voiced a feeling which was common to almost every man in the- South. His was the magnetism which makes dull men awake, which makes a dull subject glow with light, which lashes calm men into excite ment, which makes cowards feel brave, which makes misers open their purses, which summons the passions to overwhelm the judgment. His heart was in every word he uttered; and, hence, those words went straight to the hearts of others. Xot a great lawyer, not a great thinker, not a groat debater, not a great scholar, logician, or loeri<lator, not a great political organizer, not even a great political leader--he was a great orator^ one of the greatest this country ever
knew.

BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON
It was not his best speech that he made at Charles ton, but it carried his magnificent audience to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. Nearly every sentence was greeted by applause. Time and again there were storms of cheering. When he finished the scene was tumultuous beyond description.
The sum and substance of Yancevi/ 's address was that all compromise on the slavery question was wrong. The system was right; it was entitled to the protection guaranteed it by the Constitution; and slave-owners must have equal rights in the territories.
Senator Pugh replied to Yancey, spoke with deep feeling and at great length. The gist of what he said was this:
" You think that slavery is right and must be extended. You demand that we Northern Demo crats shall agree that slavery be extended by being admitted into the territories. You misunderstand us: we will not do it, we will not do it."
When the vote came to be taken, Douglas had car ried the day. Yancey was defeated.
Twelve years before, when the Democratic con vention in Baltimore had voted him down on this identical issue, he had walked out of the hall, fol lowed by one faithful disciple. Xow, when he stood up and gave the word for secession, the delegations of seven states were ready to troop at his heels. As events were to prove, the one disciple of 1848
[ 93 ]

BETHANY

had multiplied till the whole South was Yan-

ceyized.

Ah! what consternation smote the convention

then! How the great Democratic party did reel and

rock, passion-driven, tempest-tossed ! Xot even after

Yancev's withdrawal could Douglas secure the

o

<--

nomination. The fool two-thirds rule, which has

wrecked so manv conventions and defeated so fret
quently the will of the people, held the " Little

Giant " in its remorseless grip. '

Xo nomination at all can be made at Charleston,

and the disrupted party must try again at Baltimore.

Everv*, bod*v/ knows that the home of Alexander H. Stephens was called Liberty Hall. It was' so

named for the simple reason that it was free to all,

open to all, hospitable to men of all degrees. Rich

and poor were equally welcome to the good cheer

at Liberty Hall. I sometimes thought that Mr.

Stephens was heavily imposed upon by folks who

abused his good nature; but that was his business,

not mine.

Manv/

a

lawver */

attending o

court

in

Craw-

fordville put up for the week with Mr. Stephens

and burnt inexpensive incense to the great man,

rather than pay a board bill at the old Williams Hotel.

Tired judges who wanted a few days' vacation,

politicians who had axes to grind, unimportant idlers

who found the back piazza at Liberty Hall the most

comfortable place to loaf on, chance passers-by who

[94]

LIBERTY. HALL, THE HUMP: OF ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS, IN GEORGIA.

BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON

stopped in for a dinner or a night's lodging, made

up a very considerable percentage of the ever-shift

ing, ever-abundant crowd at the plain, bachelor home

of " Alec " Stephens.

The people of his congressional district loved to

call him " the Pea-Ridge Boy," and every one was

familiar with his history from the time when some c
charitable friends educated him for the ministry.

His humble birth, his poverty, his feeble, sickly

physique, the splendid pluck and honesty of his char

acter, had won the admiring sympathy of all who

knew the storv; and to this dav, at Crawfordville,

t7

t.' /

'

the older men will refer to him simply as " the

hero."

Much

better

than

manv t.

a

warrior

who

has-worn

the title did this pale invalid deserve it. He had

conquered bodily pain, had overcome the obstacles

which poverty put in his way, had consecrated his

whole talent to those things which were highest,

noblest, most humane: had made charity the hand

maiden of his faith, and good deeds the gospel of

his life. To make himself a Samaritan, Mr. Ste

phens had been compelled to subdue as fierce a tem

per as ever led a man to his ruin. ISTaturally, he was

too intense, too thin-skinned, too irritable, too prone

to violent resentments--slightly inclined to be jeal

ous, exacting, overbearing, spiteful.

Gloriously he had struggled with these evil spirits;

gloriously had he enslaved them. When you looked

[95]

BETHANY

at his hands and saw the stiff, shrunken fingers,

scarred across with pitiful seams, you needed little

imagination to picture the scene at the National

Hotel in Atlanta when Judge Cone, a large, brawny

man, attacked Stephens with a knife and cut at his

life. Brave "Little Alec v had only saved himself

by clutching, with his hare lingers, the cruel blade.

As you looked at the maimed hand, you remembered

with admiration the unshrinkimr courage with which

k.

^..

Stephens refused to take back what he had said, even

with the knife at his throat; and you confessed to

yourself, with regret, that the language Stephens had

used against. Judge Cone, originally should never

have been used. Later in his life Mr. Stephens

would say to me--to wsfm me, I thought--that in

the earlier stages of his career he had allowed his

temper too much play. But by way of excuse, he

said that he was a poor boy, with no influential

friends, and that many a time he thought his oppo

nents " looked down on him '* because of his poverty,

and that thev were trying unfairlv to "run over

.

t

O

L

him."

Those who have started from the bottom, as " Lit

tle Alec " did, will know what that, feeling is, and

will look upon his errors of tongue and temper with

infinite compassion.

Crawfordville, in those davs, was a drowsv little

'

c'

t/

village, with no peculiar ear-marks, good or bad;

and its individuality, so far as it had any, consisted

[90]

BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON

in being the home of " Alec " Stephens. This, of

itself, being a good deal more than most towns could

boast of, Crawfordville rested satisfied. Religious

convictions, in Crawfordvillo, were all settled, and

had been so for quite a while. Political opinions were

handed out from Liberty Hall; and the old ones

lasted until Mr. Stephens had something else to say.

As to literary, opinions and economic contentions,

there had been none in Crawfordville, since the

tariff question had been threshed out and Sir Walter

Scott's authorship of the Waverley novels had been

established.

As fine a lot of people lived there and thereabouts

as ever v/ ou saw whole-souled,j heartvv ty/ eomen,/ the backbone of the country. They loved Mr. Stephens

dearly, and he them, and the only occasions upon

which he ever denounced them in words of exceed

ing hotness were not those upon which the fellows

"who had borrowed small sums forgot to pay, but

those upon which he would return from Congress

and find that some vandal had cut down one of his

lordly shade trees. My! How he would then rave

and charge. " The Goths! The Vandals! D d

Barbarians ! What business did anvbodv have to cut

t-

t-

that tree ( Last summer I gave off a church-lot out

there on that side of my grove, but I told them not

to cut down the trees. Why, that very oak which

they destroyed was the tree that ' Dick' Johnston

and I used to sit under when we were bovs, and f*

8

[ 97 ]

BETHANY

there we have read together, talked and dreamed, a

thousand times. I had rather somebodivt had stolen one of mv. laziv/ nictaers than to have had them cut down that tree! "

u Dick " Johnston,/ Y> OU must know,* was Richard Malcolm Johnston, who afterward moved to Balti

more, .and became known as the author of "'* Dukes-

borough Tales," " Old Mark Langston," and other

stories of ante-bellum Southern life. Of all the men

whom Mr. Stephens loved, " Dick " Johnston was

the one he loved best. To see them together was to ^

see " Alec " Stephens wear his heart upon his sleeve.

At such times he was as gentle as an amiable child,

as warm-hearted and affectionate in his manner as

the tenderest -of women.

In the spring of 1860 there was an unusual flow

of visitors to Liberty Hall. Every time the passen

ger train stopped guests got off, and guests got on,

as Mr. Stephens's friends came and went!

A few days after the smash-up of the Democratic

party at Charleston, it chanced that Colonel Xat

Crawlev of Lincoln, and a voiing lawver of the

. /

7

fc

O

L

name of Butt were spending a few days with Mr.

Stephens. There were several others, including

Richard Malcolm Johnston, and a stately old doctor

of Augusta, named Shriner.

The pastime which Mr. Stephens enjoyed most

keenlv- was whist. His bodilvt. infirmities cut him off from the usual manly recreations, and ever since

[98]

BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON
one of his own gates had fallen upon him and seri ously hurt him, he had relied more than ever upon whist. lie considered it intellectual, a test of mental concentration and memoryf . He had studied the game scientifically and prided himself upon his mastery of it. He even wrote a treatise on whist for one of the encyclopedias.
Ala?, for human vanity! He really could not play the game much better than Xapoleon could play chess; and he was constantly being worsted by young fellows, who had tried to escape the contest upon the plea that they hardly knew the rules of the game. That very night Colonel Crawley, with Butt for partner, beat ~Mr. Stephens and " Dick " Johns ton. Butt, with the luck of youth and confidence, held the most astonishing hands, and his audacity of play wrou<g-- ht havoc with every/ combination Mr. Stephens could make. Like a silly young man, he was puffed up by his success, his face showed how good he felt; he broke out into ill-timed guffaws of laughter; lie talked across the board. Finally, he got to patronizing Stephens and Johnston, and ex pressing sympathy with them for their hard luck. His foolish delight was so boisterous and crude that everybody in the room began to smile in spite of themselves. After the sixth rubber, in which the ]>orverse run of the cards had again given the scien tific players a ludicrous defeat, Butt, who had no real sense of humor and no reverence, blurted out:
[99]
47C3C8A

BETHAXY
" Mr. Stephens, didn't you -write an article on <IIow to Play Whist' ?""ln the laugh which fol lowed Mr. Stephens joined as heartily as human nature would allow, and then said: "Let's adjourn to the piazza."
It was a pleasant night, the moon was shining, and the grand old trees which stood around Liberty Hall were hugely, vividly outlined against the sky. Mr. Stephens's body-servant, Harry, placed the chair?, and the conversation drifted at once to politics.
" Alec, what will be the outcome of all this tur moil \ " asked Johnston.
" Civil war," responded Mr. Stephens promptly and decidedly, his mouth closing with a snap.
" Oh, no," remonstrated Crawley, " that can not be. There are too manv, interests at stake. We can't afford to let the politicians drag us so far as that."
" You will see," answered Mr. Stephens. " We came nearer to civil war a few years ago than you may be aware of."
u You mean the "Kansas trouble I " said Crawley. " Yes. Armed bands of volunteers from the North poured into the West to meet armed bands of volunteers from the South. Each side toted guns for the other. What was that but civil war \ " " On a small scale it was," admitted Crawley, " but the wise men of both sides realized the danger
[100]

BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON
in time and agreed upon a compromise. They must do the same thing again."
" Compromise has been tried so often, and has so utterly failed to do more than postpone the inevi table, that people no longer have the same faith in that policy. Such leaders as Yancey and Toombs and Rhett and Wigfall think the time has come to reject all compromise. Likewise such Northern leaders as Lincoln, Seward, Chandler, and Wade think the time has come to fight it out."
" But the situation was equally threatening at the time of the Kansas trouble, you know," urged Colonel Crawley. " At that time Zach Chandler gave .ten thousand dollars to the abolitionists to push the Kansas war."
" Yes," said Johnston, " and so mild a man as Ralph Waldo Emerson urged the Xorthern people to sell houses, land, apple-trees and all, to succor the belligerent anti-slavery men in the West. We know whaf succor meant. It meant Sharp's rifles, as Henry Ward Beecher boldly declared."
"Precisely; and just such men as those were re sponsible for the massacre of those settlers on Ossawatamie Creek by old John Brown."
" But the point T make," insisted Crawley, " is that compromise adjusted even those troubles, and that the same spirit of compromise will adjust these."
" God grant it! " exclaimed Mr. Stephens. " But
[ 101 1

B E TH A NY
I do not hope for it. The people seem to he mad dened with passion on hotli sides. They are blind to consequences. With Yancoy Democrats it is ' Kule or ruin.' With the Black Republicans it is
1 Rule or ruin. 7 " " But," argued Crawler, " the Republican plat
form says nothing against slavery in the old States. They claim that there is no purpose to interfere with slaveryt. where it already*, exists. T_ hey* contend that their opposition is to the spread of slavery into the
territories." " Ah, Xat, that is a shallow subterfuge, a mask
which will be thrown aside at the proper time. When the land-grabbing nations of the Old World reach out for a new province, do they at first lay claim to the land? Xo. They suavely secure i commercial priv ileges,' and behind these stalking horses come the soldiers with fixed bavt. onet^. Whvt ,' the trick is at least as old as Edward the Fourth's of England, who entered the country claiming, not the crown, but the hereditary private estate of his house. All the time he meant to'seize the crown, and he got it."
"I believe yon are right," said Johnston. ''"It is incredible to me, that after all which has been said and done by the anti-slavery ]>oople of the Xorth thev should be content with the mere restriction of
t/
the system to the old States where it now exists." " Gentlemen! " cried Mr. Stephens solemnly,
" listen to me! We are going to have war--the
[ 102 ]

BURST-UP AT CHARLESTON

bloodieat in history. In less than twelve months men

will be cutting each other's throats! "

With this he arose, said " Good night" to his

friends, and retired to his room.

Profoundly impressed, they remained on the

piazza, continuing the conversation in low tones till

a late hour in the night. They all agreed that one

chance to stav the storm vet remained, and that was

t/

c

7

the state action of Georgia, " the. Empire State of the

South/' It was understood that Mr. Stephens

would attend the convention and use all of his efforts

to keep Georgia from going out of the Union. It

was certain that Ben Hill and Herschel V. Johnson

would also do battle on the same side. If Georgia

could be held back from secession there was hope

yet that all national troubles might be compromised.

" It's our last hope, and I fear that chances are

against us. Toombs is a wheel-horse, and he will

be there in all his strength," remarked Johnston,

as they separated to their rooms.

[103]

CHAPTER V
OUR LAST HOPE
THE summer of I860, as we knew it on the old homestead, differed little from those that had gone before.
By this time-Douglas had got a nomination from the moderate Democrats at Baltimore, and Herschel V. .Johnson of our State -was running on the same ticket.
Yaneey's wing of the party had nominated Breckinridge of Kentucky, and Lane of Oregon.
The Republicans had united on Abraham Lincoln. In the vast, complex field of American politics the battle was on, a battle second to none since the French Revolution. What black passions were astir in that mighty conflict! How little did any of the candidates know what they were d' oing. Blind instruments in the hands of elemental forces which they c<iild neither measure nor comprehend, they were like children at play in a powder-house--or like somnambulist* tampering with the foundations of a world's sea-wall.
Tho glorious old Democratic party of Jefferson
[104]

OUR LAST HOPE

and Jackson had well-nigh crushed the life out of

Hamilton's creed. Federalism was at its last gasp.

In spite of its subtle changes of form and name,

which for a moment had deluded the people, in spite

of such recruits as Ilenrv Clav and Daniel TVeb-

r.

t

ster, in spite of the wily manipulators who had made

political use of Andrew Jackson's power and popu

larity by bringing him into collision with Calhouii--

in spite of it all, Democracy had won its fight. The

loner day's task was done.

V

L

The protective principle had been put under foot

and the tariff was one for revenue onlv; the internal *. '
improvements system had received its death-blow

and no longer vexed Congress with its greedy clam

ors ; the sovereign power to create money had been

taken from the banks, and the Government was lord

of its own svstem of currency.

(.

4

Could Yancey and Breckin ridge and Lincoln fore

see that they were tugging like blind Samsons at the'

very.foundations of the nation's weal ? Could they

realize that back of the honest Abolitionist was the

implacable Federalist, groping for the levers of po

litical power? Was it within human penetration to

see that slavers' was the least of the issues' depend

ent upon this fatal campaign ?

Looking down the avenue of time and catching a

clear view of the results--a million men slaughtered,

accumulated prosperity swept away by the hundreds

of millions, public morals debauched, labor systems

[ 105 ]

BETHANY

revolutionized^ corporations enthroned, the public

treasury handed over to the service of the banks,

the national credit farmed out to a privileged class,

tariff laws made just as protected interests dictate,

the government kept in debt in order that there may

be bonds in which tintaxed wealth shall escape all bur

dens of government, tens of millions of the annual

taxes of the people poured into the pockets of cor-

ruptionists under the pretense of making internal

improvements, seeds of unquenchable hatred sown

between the two races and the two sections which,

like the fabled dragon's teeth, are forever bearing

their crops of armed men.

Did Yancey see this ? Did Lincoln see it ? Did

the Sewards and the Beechers, the Garrisons and the

Gerrit Smiths, the YVliittiers and the Sumners, re

alize that in their blind methods of striking the

shackles off the slave they would rivet the chains

upon unborn millions of the white race, change the

very nature of the .republic, put the scepter into the

hands of the militant, law-defying Ilamiltonianism,

and

hurl

our

Government

bv i/

resistless

evolution

toward that old, old gulf which has swallowed up

every republic known to "history--centralism--with

its class-law, its despotism of the few, its subordina

tion of the civilian to the soldier?

Several times during the summer of I860, my

grandfather attended barbecues where political

speeches were made to large crowds. The extremists

[ 106 3

OUR LAST HOPE
were gaining ground, but there was. many a thousand " true blue " Democrats who thought secession talk premature. Toombs himself made a great speech in Augusta in which he advised conservatism and in timated his willingness to accept a fair compromise. A letter of his to the same effect was circulated, to the indignation of certain fire-eaters, who called him " Traitor," and spoke of voting him a tin sword.
One day, after he had finished reading the news papers, I heard grandfather say:
" The Democrats have split all to pieces; our leaders are fighting one another as hard as they ought to fight Abe Lincoln, and it begins to look like we'll lose the election."
Xow, why should the loss of an election be spoken of as though it meant the crack of doom? I learned why, soon enough. If Lincoln should be elected, it would be the first time that a President had been chosen on purely sectional lines, virtually committed to the making of war upon what the South regarded as her reserved rights under the Constitution. In other words, Lincoln's election would mean to the South all of the. previous wrongs of which she com plained bad been officially sanctioned, that the cru sade against her was to be legalized, and the home rule principle stamped out.
"We waited anxiouslfy and then came the news that Lincoln had won. Every eye watched what was
[ 107 ]

BETHANY
going on at Washington, every ear strained to catch the faintest, sound from Congress.
Lincoln's inaugural read well, and my grand father's voice trembled with emotion as he repeated the beautiful lines in which the new President pleaded for brotherly love, for harmony, for the Union. But he was afraid that Mr. Lincoln would, after all, find himself compelled to go with the ex tremists who had elected him. The inaugural was vaguely sweet, but the creed of the radicals who had placed him in power was definitely bitter, and be tween the vague inaugural and the definite party creed there was a conflict which gave rise to fears. The one was rhetoric, the other was set purpose. The appeal for harmony was the voice of one man, the war-cry which threatened the Supreme Court, the Constitution, and the domestic peace of the South was the roar of a mighty multitude, organized to do the very thing that the President said we need not fear, and already flushed with victory in the prelim inary*/ encounter.
We did not then know that Lincoln had set his face against Compromise, had opposed the proposi tion to settle the whole controversy by restoring and extending the old Missouri Compromise line. The whole weight of his influence as President-elect had been thrown against the Peace Congress and against the Crittenden movement in the Senate. The South ern Senators had declared their willingness to com-
[108]

OUR LAST HOPE
promise on the basis of the old Missouri line, and had Mr. Lincoln lifted a finger in favor of that prop osition, Thurlow Weed and. Seward could have put it through.
Reading the newspapers day by day, we tried to keep track of events. We followed the attempts made in Congress to save the Constitution and the r L'nion. We saw all these efforts fail. Reader, we stood at the parting of the ways--Peace and pros perity upon the one hand, War and unmeasured calamities upon the other. Let us, for the sake of truth and justice, see what was done to avert the awful struggle which drenched the continent in blood.
Of the public domain there were 1,200,000 square miles. By the Crittenden Compromise, the South ern men offered to surrender 900,000 square miles of this territory. Slavery should never enter there. In the remaining 300,000 square miles, the people should decide whether the State should be free or slave; when t<he"v formed their State Constitution.
Who offered this compromise ? Democrats of the North and the South. Who rejected it? The Re publicans. Xot one member of that party would vote for it when it came to a test in the House.
Saj's S. S. Cox, a Northern man, and a prominent Congressional actor in those exciting scenes:
" The truth is, there was nothing but sneers and skepticism from the Republicans at any settlement
[109]

BETHANY

They broke down every proposition. They took the

elements of conciliation out of the Peace Congress

before it assembled. Senators Harlan and Chandler

were especialy active in preparing the convention

for a failure. If event, ' Southern man and Northern Democrat had voted for the proposition, it would

have required some nine Republican? for the requi

site two-thirds.

"Where were thev I ,

Dreaming*-- with

Mr. Seward of a sixty days' struggle, or arranging

for .the patronage of the Administration."

Toombs did not himself vote for the Crittenden

Compromise in the famous Committee of Thirteen,

but he emphatically declared lie would do so if the

Republicans would.

"Mr. Toombs/' asked Senator Crittenden, "will

this compromise satisfy you \ "

" Xot by a d------d sight! " exclaimed the impul--

sive Georgian, " but my state will accept it, and I

will follow mv state to hell! "



v

He had told Stephen A. Douglas that if the Crit

tenden Compromise was adopted by the committee,

tbe disunion movement in Georgia would be de

feated by 40,000 votes. But the Republicans re

fused to support the measure; and Toombs tele

graphed to the people of Georgia that they must now

choose between secession and dishonorable submis

sion to the Xorth.

God! how the waves did toss and tumble then!

Madness raged throughout the State, the madness of

[no]

OUR LAST HOPE

wrath, uncertainty, doubts, and fears. What should

7

> /

*

be done ? Submit and wait, or act upon the threats

already made--taking it for granted that the North

would do what her dominant political leaders had

said theyt> would do ? In the midst of the turmoil the convention met at

Mi Hedge viHe--the convention which had been or

dered by a popular vote.

Toombs had delivered his farewell address to the

Xational Senate, had come home, and was now a

delegate to the convention: so were Stephens, Ben

Hill, and Herschel V. Johnson, who had been on the

Presidential ticket with Stephen A. Douglas. Be

sides these, came from all parts of the state the best

men we could boast.

Judging from the popular vote, and by the final

vote in the convention itself, you might suppose that

nearly half the voters of Georgia sided with the

Xortli, but such is not the case. Xine-tenths of

those who voted against secession agreed that the

South had the right to go. out of the Union, and be

lieved that the time would soon come when in self-

defense she must do so, but they thought that seces

sion then was premature. That, and no more than

that, was meant by the negative votes of Georgia on

the issue of secession in I860 and 1861. Even so

strong a Fnion man as Mr. Stephens, addressing the

Georvg_- ia Lecg.. islat- urei against secession,/ declared that unless the Xorthern States, which had nullified the

[111]

I

j
\-
{

j

\

-

j

i 1 v.

BETHANY

Constitution by refusing to obey the Fugitive Slave

laws, would give guarantees to reverse their policy

and respect those laws, the S'utli should go out of

the Union because of that jx-r.-istent breach of the

contract upon which it had been formed.

Xow, who believed that those Northern States

were going to repeal their Personal Liberty bills,

and reverse themselves on the Fugitive Slave ques

tion ?

Xobodv. Therefore, secession, even in the eves of

<s

'

I

the followers-of Stephens, was a right which sooner

. or later must be resorte.d to in self-defense. Power

ful as were the speeches of Ben IIill and Alec Ste

phens, the structural weakness in 'their argument

was but too apparent. They all agreed with Toombs

that the Xorth had broken the contract: they all

agreed that secession was the right of each state,

and the*y/ all arg^reed that if the Xorth did not alter her course disruption of the Union was inevitable.

TTho could IK? made to believe that the Xorth

would alter her course ? There's where Toombs

smote them hip and thigh.

As to the fact that Xorthern Legislatures had

passed-and enforced acts which nullified the Fugi

tive Slave law of the Constitution and of Congress,

no one disputed.

As to the right of secession, no one denied it. It

had been put forward time and again by the Xorth,

first in ITt'S when she threatened to secede if the

C 112 1

OUR LAST HOPE

Mississippi was opened to navigation, her fear be

ing that the South would reap all the benefit;

second, when Jefferson made the Louisiana Pur

chase, which doubled the area of the republic;

third, when Jefferson laid the Embargo and the

War of 1S12 followed; fourth, when the annexa

tion of Texas was proposed--Truman Smith and

John Quiney Adams being the spokesmen of Xew

England in her declared purpose to exercise the

right of secession.

Then, again, Daniel Webster, who had contended

against ITayne that the Constitution was not a com

pact, had been silenced later when he debated the

same question with Calhoun; and had, later still,

made a speech at Capon Springs in Virginia, in

which he declared that the Constitution was a com

pact and that he refusal of certain Xorthern States

to obey the fugitive slave laws was a breach of that

contract, and that a breach of the contract bv one t/
of the parties released all.

OnDec. 9, 1814, Mr. Webster made in Congress

as bold'a speech for Xullification and State-Rights

as Calhoun himself could have made; at Capon

Springs he had returned to his first love.

Xeither of these two speeches appear in the col

lections published as " Webster's Speeches," but he

made them, nevertheless.

With Adams, Webster, and Calhoun harmonized

in favor of secession, it did seem- that the principle

."

[113]

BETHANY

must be sound. Anyhow, that's the way it appeared

to us then; and our folk? acted upon it in good

faith. Even the text-books used at West Point

Military Acadeinv down to 1MO taught tlie riirht

t*

t,

'i

of secession.

As to the expediency of secession there were, in

deed, vast differences of honest opinion throughout

the South, differences which were never harmonized;

but there were two convictions which carried the day

for immediate disunion. One of the-e was that the

South could make better terms out of the Union than

within it. The .other was that vital, irreconcilable

differences existed between the South and the Xorth

on the question of the powers of Congress under the

Constitution, and upon the subject of the status of

the negro. Our people foresaw that if Congress could

usurp the power .to emancipate the black man, it

could, and probably would, go further in his behalf.

The Xorth, impelled partly by hatred of the South

and partly by a mistaken philanthropy, would arm

the negro with the ballot and otherwise try to legis

late him into equality with the whites.

If any one should doubt that far-sighted appre

hension along this line had its powerful influence on

the Southern whites then, let him read the speech

which Mr. Stephens made to the Secession Conven

tion of Virginia in 1861. If this leaves anything to

be desired, let him study the speeches of Toombs.

Southern leaders were determined that the South

OUR LAST HOPE

should

not

tamelv v

submit

to

being c?

ruled

bv t/

a

mon-

grel race, by a coalition between the Xorthern fa

natic

and

the

ianorant *-_

nea- 'ro;

thev *'

believed

that

if

the Abolitionists won their first step (emancipation),

the second would follow., and that Southern civiliza

tion would be debauched and degraded.

How seldom has this view of the case been con

sidered btv, tlmse who abuse the South!

j

The speeches which.Mr. Stephens made against

;

immediate secession were great efforts--that before

!

the Georgia Legislature in Xovember, especially.

The speeches of Ben Hill in the convention in Janu-

=

ary were great efforts, but, so far as it went, the plea

>

for the Union made by Herschel V. Johnson over-

*

topped them all.

Johnson was of massive build, ponderous in mind

as well as in bodv.

He was lazv, not easilv aroused.

t/

.



f

but when he was aroused, a foeman worthy of any

man's steel. On such rare occasions there was a

power in him that was colossal.

At the Milledgeville Convention, in January,

1^01, he was in his prime. His very port and

stature imposed respect, commanded attention, riv

eted interest. Those who saw him that datv.- when he pleaded for the life of the Union of our fathers will

never forget him. In the densely packed house, not

a man stirred as this brave Georgian rose and came

forward to do battle for his convictions. He had

' [ 115 ]

BETHANY
submitted a minority report, adverse to immediate secession. " Ben " Yancev, brother to William L.
t, /
Yancey, had made the majority report, which sought to lead Georgia in the wake of South Carolina, wliich had already seceded. Yancey spoke first, and for the majority report. Then came Johnson. It was evident that he was intensely excited; for once, he was profoundly agitated. All his sluggishness had dropped from him, and he stood at bay, full of the fire of combat. He felt that he stood on the weaker side, but he had the look of a man who gathers up all his strength to strike, and to fight it out, though he dies.
Lifting his right arm and clenched fist above his head, his broad chest heaving with suppressed ex citement, he cast his eyes all round the convention, and slowlv said:
*,
(f I am a Democrat! " The words had meaning in those days: they had not been trod in the mire and filth of the foulest po litical methods that ever sickened decent men. Thev did not then smell of Tammanv-ism.
,
'" I am a Democrat! " The hand was clenched above the head,' the evt- es were blazing, the voice was vibrating with the in tensity of the man's passion. There was a pause, just for a moment, and then the house trembled with a spontaneous burst of applause. Johnson waited till there was dead silence, then

OUR LAST HOPE
ho brought his hands together in front of him, and, dashing them apart., he said, alluding to Yancey'a speech, " I have been compared to a lion. Would that I were a lion that I might tear away from your vision this monstrous network of error which has been spread out before you! "
Again the convention burst into loud applause. Johnson stood with heaving chest, waiting till all was still, and then the thunder of his voice was heard again.
" I have been, compared to an eagle. Would that I were an eagle that I might bear your thoughts up ward upon my wings, and bathe them in the pure sunlight of reason."
Again the house rocked with applause. Begin nings count for much, and it was clear that Johnson had made a good one. Already he seemed to be mas tering his surroundings. Step by step, he strode forward with the might of a giant,
" Oh, madmen of the South! What is it you are about to do ? Are you blind that you do not see that you are laying mines under the very foundations of constitutional government ? Kings, priests, aris tocrats all over the world are watching us with devil ish gleo, and, from our wild destnictiveness, are building new foundations for the infamous dogmas of ' Divine right! '
" I am a Democrat! What are you ? " I want to hold the vantage-ground that Democ-
[ 117 ]

BETHANY

racy has torn from Federalism nfter the heroic strug

gles of a hundred years. You, infatuated and blind,

would risk that priceless heritage and expose it to

all the furvt, of the storm! For a centurvi> tv. our fathers resisted centralism, imperialism, class-rule.

The Revolutionary War was fought that Democracy

might reign in the Xew World. Its victory was

hardlv/ assured before desiig^_ ningcr nien were trv*. ingv- to re-enthrone the system which had been abolished.

Monarchist at heart, hating, fearing, despising the

people, Alexander Hamilton made himself the

mouth-piece of the Toryism of America, just as

Canning*_ and Disraeli have done in Grent Britain. Democracy, triumphant upon the battle-fields of the

Revolutionary* War, found itself threatened in the

verv flush of its victory bv the cunning1 politicians

t.

it

^ J.

who wrote the laws. The pen of the legislator took

from the people what the sword of the soldier had

won. English models were copied, English class-rule

was introduced, English aristocracy was aped, Eng

lish contempt for Democracy was preached and prac

tised. Old foes came back with new faces. The eter

nal enemies to popular lil>erties, costumed afresh.

were doing the old, old work of tyranny, legalized

wrongi~. , official robbery. . With the crvt of Lil?rtv. and Equality on their lips, the henchmen of Hamilton

s<y/ stematized the spi oliation of the wenk byi the strongt-. Tarifrs, banks, bonds, funding, implied powers, gen

eral welfare--what were they but means to the end \

[1181

I

OUR LAST HOPE

And what was the end aimed at ? To legislate money

out of the pocket of one man into that of another. To

legislate wealth from one class to another. To fatten

one section at the expense of another.

" Oli, blind fanatics of the South! where has your

memory gone ? Have you forgotten the history of

your past ? Did not a Southern statesman lead the

revolt of the masses when, at the close of the last cen-

. tury, the people drove from power the Xew England

disciples of Hamilton, who had banished citizens for

being Democrats, imprisoned citizens for being Dem

ocrats, and were putting into practise at Washington

the flunkeyism and the monkeyism of royalty? All

honor to the immortal Jefferson! "

Here there was another whirlwind of applause.

Men in their excitement rose from their seats, cheer-

ins: wildlv.

~

i.

It

was

plain
JL

that

Johnson

had

struck



the right key. The fire-eaters looked pale and

troubled. The orator's action was superb--his ges

tures were powerful but not frantic, his voice was

tremendously full with the tremble of passion in its

roar,J but not htvsterical,/ not extrava~gant;/ and over ' the lanrce- m;mlv. face,/ with its higch forehead,/ there was the play of consuming fires.

" I am a Democrat! Does that mean anything to

you ? What does it mean to me ? It means that I

would die with a martyr's joy to keep within the

body of this republic the spirit which our fathers

breathed into it! Have you forgotten the warnings

[1191

BETHANY

of Southern statesmen ? Have the names of Patrick

Henry and George Mason and John Randolph lost

their meaning? Are you no longer of the school*of

Jefferson ? He told you never to secede--is your

wisdom greater than his ?

61 Why abandon the vantage-ground of Democ

racy ? Why jeopardize the fruits of so many vic

tories ? Why lift anchor when our cargo, already

safe in harbor, is so precious, and risk both ship and

cargo to the unmeasured tempest that is to beat upon

shoreless seas ?

"What are those victories of Democracy?. What

are the trophies your fathers won ?

" They destroyed the protective principle in spite

of Henrvt- Cla*vt and Daniel Webster. The l tariff of abominations ' was burned up, root and branch. In

the last tariff act, so complete was the victory of the

revenue principle that South Carolina voted with

Massachusetts. The lion and the lamb lav down toc/
gether.

" National banks are a thing of the past. The

nation makes and controls its own currencv. Xo *
partnership exists between the national treasury and

the greedy capitalists who want special favors. Xo

bonds,v*/ stem holds the Government down iu order that

non-taxpavers mav pick its -pockets. The Hamilton

At

t,

JL

J_

policy--deep as conspiracy, black as hell--was to

keep the Government in debt.

" It remained for Democracy to cancel every bond,

[ 120 ]

OUR LAST HOPE
pay the last dollar of the debt, and send back the surplus to the states where it belonged. Praise be forever to the lion-like Andrew Jackson! "
The scene at this point beggars description. The hypnotic spell of the orator was complete. The audi-! ence swayed as he swayed, heads leaned backward or forward with the movement of his own. The feel ings which glowed in his face found reflection in theirs. Never was oratorical triumph more perfect. Could he hold out ? The tension to which he was wound was something phenomenal--could mind or bodty/ stand it ?
" I am a Democrat! Every principle of the glo rious old party is as dear to my heart as the lifeblood that throbs in these veins. Every triumph won by our fathers in the heroic struggles of the past is sacred in my eyes. Idolater, bent before graven image at lonely wayside shrine, was never more rapt in his devotions than I in the worship of the creed of my fathers. Oh, my countrymen! Why imperil this sacred trust ?
" Tn the strife of sections your jewels will be lost. In the clash of arms Liberty's crown will be trampled in the dust. Under pretense of freeing the negro 'both whites and blacks will be commercially en-
i/
slaved. There will be a triumph of the strongest. Either the Xorth or the South will win a victory-- but no matter which wins, it will be a victory which reeks with blood, and the car of triumph in which
rm]

BETHANY
the conqueror rides will be followed up Capitol Hill bv the enchained millions of the American masses.
/
Class-rule will be entrenched as never before., and civil liberty as our Democratic forefathers knew it
/
and fought for it will have left the world never t<> come again."
It was near noon when he had begun to speak. He had not proceeded more than thirty minutes be fore he put his hand to his head and stopped. There was a breathless silence.
" My head pains me. I ask that the convention take a recess."
His opponents were only too glad to break the spell of that dangerous oratory.
What happened to Johnson at dinner ? Did a cer tain rampant fire-eater, dreading what might be the results of the continuation of such a speech, put stupefying drugs in a glass of. whisky which John son drank? Throughout the state ran such a story, and I have often heard the name of a certain bril liant editor given as the man who doctored the liquor.
By whatever means it happened, it did happen that when Johnson resumed the floor in the afternoon he was in no condition to speak. To the crowd which packed the house this was not immediately appar ent. Indeed, his first sentence sounded like a true refrain of the morning: " I am planted on a rock and an earthquake can not move me! ''
There was a burst of applause. Johnson waited

OUR LAST HOPE

until there was silence, and then repeated the sen

tence. Thrice, four times he said the same thing,

^len looked at each other in pained astonishment.

What was the matter ?

The whole audience began to feel uncomfortable,

anxious, nervous. Again the orator exclaimed, this

time in a voice that was lifeless, dull, thick, almost

stupid, as he swayed unsteadily on his legs: " I am

planted on a rock."

Sympathetic friends hastened to him, surround

ing him, -and the orator, his laurels gone--ah, the

pity of it!--was led away.

It seemed almost cruel when Ilenrvt- R. Jackson sprang to his feet, and began a fire-eating speech,

which swept all before-it, with the taunt:

" The honorable gentleman has said many times

that he was planted on a rock, and that an earth

quake could not move him. There let us leave him

and indulge in the hope that, unlike Prometheus, no

vulture will piiey upon his vitals."

Secession wfts voted, the United States flag over

the capitol building was hauled down, and the colo

nial colors of Georgia, run up instead, were greeted

with tremendous cheering.

That night Ben Hill sat down and wrote to a

friend :

" The deed is done. Georgia this dav left the

*^

/

Union. Cannon have been firing and bells ringing.

At this moment people are filling the streets vocif-

[ 123 ]

BETHANY

erously shouting. A large torchlight procession is

moving from house to house and calling out speakers.

The resolution declaratory passed on yesterday, and

similar scenes were enacted last night. The crowd

called

loudlvv

for

me,/

but

m<v,

room

was

dark, 7

mv t/

heart was sad, my tongue was silent.

" The most favored sons of freedom have written

a page in history which despots will read to listening

subjects for centuries to come to prove that the people

are not capable of self-government"

[124]

$art Second
A CHEROKEE ROSE

CHAPTER I

AT NELLIE ROBERTS's HOME

THERE is an old-fashioned frame house of two

stories which stands, gray and dismal, back of a

small grove of decaying oaks a few miles southward

from Both any.

The public road runs not far from the front.gate,

and whenever I journey along this highway my eyes

rest upon the disconsolate house, and my thoughts

dwell on its past.

The well, which the gate, was used

ilsonmgidawgoa"ybybeatwnyee"nthtihrsetyrotaradvealnedr

'

who had a mind to draw himself a bucket of water;

and it is certain that one of the men who did so

was Judah P. Benjamin, when, " after the surren

der/' he was stealthily hurrying through Georgia to

reach the coast and flee for safety to England.

But my mind is not upon Judah P. Benjamin

while I gaze upon the ancient house. My memory is

at work with the scenes of times earlier than that,

for this was the home of Xellie Roberts, the sweet

heart of my Uncle Ralph.

There at that iron ring fastened to the tree his

[127]

.t
j j | |? i .i .1

.! 1I
j I
]

BETHANY
horse has so often stood, pairing the ground and gnawing the hark, while his master pleaded his case within.
On that piazza yonder they often sat at night, those two, and heard the katydids chatter in the oak, and the mocking-bird salute the moon. That weedcovered garden with the broken, moss-grown picketfence was full of old-fashioned roses, and they loi tered there together, while she gathered the flowers, many a time.
The daiv/ before miv/ Uncle Ralpj. h went to the armyt/ he came here, to this memory-haunted place, fast ened his bridle-rein to the iron ring, and rapidly went towards the door. Xellie must have seen him ap proach, for she came out of the door, spoke to him with constraint, and led the way into the flowergarden, at some distance from the house, where there was a rude bench underneath a scraggy, gigantic cedar--a most dismal, solitary tree.
But I am too fast. Let me go back a little and tell you more of my Uncle Ralph.
Yo* u would have liked him--Yt,OU could not have helped it. He was so frank, genial, and manly; he was so free and sociable in all his waiv/ s;' he'was so good to look at. with his blue eyes full of light, his freckled cheeks full of healthvt- color, his tall,/ straight, slender figure so full of life and strength. There was nobody on the place who did not like Uncle Ralph. The negroes were fond of him, and
[1281

L- --:'_:

MY UNCLE RALPH.

NELLIE ROBERTS'S HOME

proud of him. Children took to him as soon as they

came about him. Old Buck, the yard dog, seemed

to have a special note of joy in his welcoming bark

for Uncle Ralph. He loved horses, Uncle Ralph

did, and excelled in all manly, out-of-door sports and

recreations. To see him in the field with his gun and

dog was a sight, a treat, so perfect was his handling

of both dog and gun. Often I have seen him, out

of sheer fulness and riot of vitality, take a running

start and jump clear over his riding horse. He

could stand on level ground in his stockings and

jump thirty-three feet in three jumps. And Lord!

how he could run! There wasn't a man on the place

who

could

come

anvwavs

o

t/

near-to

him

in

deer-like

fleetness of foot. I am afraid he had been some

what wild--my uncle, I mean. He had the name of

being fond of cards--seven-up and draw-poker:

would bet on horse races and chicken fights: would

ride miles to take part in a gander-pulling. Many a

day when his old father thought he was at the Acad

emy bent over his books, his horse was hitched to the

rack at the Double-Groceries, and he was carousing

with a congenial lot of roysterers within. He was

one of those men to whom liquor brings an excess of

good humor, and we always knew when he had been

drinking by his superfluous joviality. Sociable and

gallant to a fault, I think he showed up to best ad

vantage at those country balls which the neighbors

used to give at their homes, and where all the local

10

[ 129 1

;

BETHANY

|

beauty and chivalry would be assembled to dance the

night away.

;

.

To every 'such dance Uncle Ralph invariably

; ,-

went, for he enjoyed it, being popular, and being

;'

much in demand. He was that well-known person

j

who is " the life of the party." The thing didn't

drag if Uncle Ralph was there. It couldn't. He

(

was so sunny and joyous and friendly that he would

warm up the whole room. To the old negro fiddler

he would sing out cheerily, " Xow, Uncle Turner,

give us ' The Arkansaw Traveler,' " and straight

way Ralph would go, not to the prettiest girl in the

room, who was sure to have more partners than she

'

wanted, but he would march up to the " wall

flowers "--the girls who were awkward and ugly

and otherwise forlorn, and whose cheerless faces

had begun to lower the temperature. He would

bow, like the gallant country beau he was, to the

ugliest girl on the bench, and would solicit the honor

of her hand for the dance with as much eager polite

ness as if she were the belle of the ball. Gracious!

How the room would brighten ! So much depends

on the start, and such wonders can a little good

nature work in a mixed company. Xot that Uncle

Ralph's highest enjoyment really consisted in danc

ing with the ugly girl. By no means. The first

quadrille would hardly be done with before his eyes

would be searching around the. room for the prettiest

. girl, present: and in the year I860 that prettiest girl

[130]

NELLIE ROBERTS'S HOME
was Xellie Roberts--the sweetest flower of the pirieywoods.
Where he first met her I do not know. In his riding back and forth, in his flying trips to cornslmckings, to log-rollings, to church-meetings, to dance-parties--somewhere or other, on some fated day, her tender, luminous eyes had looked into his, and he was her prisoner. All the girls he had ever known seemed as nothing beside her. All the im pressions other women had made upon him were as nothing compared to what he felt as he looked upon her. He had been a warm-hearted, full-blooded boy, had romped with the girls, had kissed them in the license of certain plays and games--and had thought nothing of it, had carried away no lasting passion. Schoolboy fancies he had had, and he had sent and received love-letters and tokens. These fancies were great events while they lasted, but they did not last long. After the manner of all young men, he had imagined himself in love, when, in fact, he was swayed by mere preliminary inclinations.
Time was passing, Uncle Ralph was no longer a bo-v ;J he was twentvi, tvears old now,/ and with the coming of his passion for Xellie Roberts he seemed to shed his boyishness like a garment. All at once, he was a man, more serious, less inclined to mere frolic, less inclined to drink, more inclined to walk quietly by himself as though there was trouble on his mind. With Xellie Roberts his manner was different from
[1311

BETHANY
what it was with other women. You could see that he looked up to her as to a superior being, a creature of a higher sphere.
Indeed, she was not like the average girl. She stood in a class apart. In games where kissing was allowed she would not enter. She loved to dance, was full of the joy of youth, was a spirited figure on horse back, took her share in all healthy recreations, but she stooped to no doubtful familiarities. Xot that she was prudish, or distant, or supercilious. She gave herself no airs of conscious superiority. A sweeter expression than that on her face never car ried pleasure into the lives of others, and an eye more kind, a smile more truly genial, a handshake more cordially warm, no woman ever possessed. But she won respect as she won friendship, and she had that rare gift of tact and disposition which takes its way to the higher plane without question and with out leaving jealous resentments.
Often when I looked at her, followed the quick, strong, graceful movement of her trim, elegant figure, caught the light of the violet eyes, radiant and soft, I would think to myself that here was one of those maiden* for whom troubadours used to sing and errant knights to die.
Xo wonder my Uncle Ralph was changed. Xo wonder he grew more steady and sober, and walked about with the air of a man who had something on his mind. He was in deep water, Uncle Ralph was.
[ 133 ]

NELLIE ROBERTS'S HOME
There was the customary amount of gossip about the two young people--Xellie and her beau--and the usual differences of opinion as to whether they would marry. Everybody knew that he courted her, and that he worshiped the very ground she walked on. He himself made no secret of it. "Whiv/ should he ? Frank, bold, honest--why should he make ef forts to conceal the fact that he was' in love with the prettiest girl in the piney-woods ? Let morbid, shy, lank-haired milksops go off into the corner, mope and write pitiful verses, sigh like a furnace and culti vate the moon. K"ot being a melancholy Jacques, nor a weak-minded imitation of Byron, Ralph never showed the least inclination to banish his manliness simply because he was in love.
Prettyt nearlvi/ everiv/ Sabbath he was with Nellie Roberts at some place or other--either at the church or Sunday-school, or her home. They met, also, at parties and picnics. It was evident that he was ac ceptable company to her; but there were others be sides himself with whom she rode, danced, conversed intimately, and received at her home.
Did she prefer Uncle Ralph to all these ? In some manner it came to be understood in our home that the father and mother of the beautiful girl objected to L'ncle Ralph. He had been too wild, too fond of whisky and cards, too often seen at horse races and chicken-fights. Besides, he was too young and unsettled. Their daughter must not think of
[ 133 ]

BETHANY
anything serious, so far as he was concerned. Sot jet., at any rate.
To what extent did the young lady'" share these views ?
Uncle Ralph had probably felt encouraged, else he would not have hung on. But ho was becoming rest ive, impatient, deeply anxious to get something definite from the piney-woods lx?lle. She had never coquetted with him--she had no levity in her char acter--but there was a sweet maidenly reserve, an amiable imperative something which had always said to Uncle Ralph: " Do not come across the line."
Thus matters stood between them in the spring of 1S61.
In that year the great deeps of Southern life were broken up. Waves of excitement and enthusiasm were running mountain high. The strident ha rangues of agitators were beginning to be accom panied by the blare of bugles. Flags were beginning to flutter over the heads of marching lines.. There was no gloom among the people, no signs of woe, no wails of regret. On the contrary there was exhilara tion throughout the land. The clank of arms, the beat of drums, awakened universal joy.
Does not the soul of a people more truly live in its songs than in its statute books ? Let any one who doubts that the Southern movement of 1801 was a revolt en masse to resist invasion, read the war-songs which then pealed forth. Sacred rights were en-
[134]

NELLIE ROBERTS'S HOME
dangered, everything which makes national 'life worth living was at stake, and the elemental impulse which in all ages has aroused brave men to action, animated every volunteer who rallied to the nag.
I have here on my table a ragged, battered volume, paper-covered, and printed by the West and Johnston house, of Richmond,. Virginia, in 1862. To know the real passions which then fired the South this old collection of war-poetry is more satisfactory than any history which mortal pen can write.
Open its blurred, faded pages, and what meets your eye ? The same kind of spontaneous literature that burst forth in France during the era of her Revolution; the same that thrilled Germany as she strove to break the yoke of Xapoleon; the same that awoke modern Greeks from the torpor of ages; the same which immortalized the patriotism of our grandsires in 1776.
Resistance to tyrants, defiance to invaders, revolt against threatened oppression, desperate determina tion to preserve the integrity of Southern soil, South ern institutions, Southern rights--that was the key note of every song! .
Under the impulse of fiery declamation, impas sioned music, and a common danger, almost every youn.2S unmarried man in the South was swept off his feet. Even the students ran away from the schools and colleges to share the glory of battling for native land, and in the smiles and praises which
[135]

B ETHAN Y

were showered upon the gallant volunteers. The

consent of parents counted for little. If that con

sent were refused, the youngster would mn off from

home and " join/' anyhow.

Thus, it came to pass that my Uncle Ralph had,

without the slightest hesitation or consultation with

anybody--moved solely by the impulse of the

moment--volunteered one Monday morning to join

a comjp. anty/ which was to leave immediatelyt/ for
Virg<_-inia. That Monday evening he rode down to the home

of Squire Roberts to have a final talk with Xellie:

and so it was that they were together in the flower-

garden, and beneath the towering cedar, which re

mains faithful to the weather-beaten mansion even

to this day. C.' Ralph was not pert, or forward, neither was he

bashful and timid: he was a thoroughly fearless man,

able to say, face to face and without shrinking, that

which he had on his mind to say to anv man or woman.

f

<s

Something" in his manner may have suggested that

he had come with definite, resolute purpose, for

Xellie was very grave, and she waited for him to

speak. *

" Xellie, you remember the night I first saw

you ?"

She did not turn her head away, nor cast her eyes

to the ground: she turned her sweet, serious face to

his and looked him steadily, kindly, somewhat sadly,

in the eye.

[ 136 ]

NELLIE ROBERTS'S HOME

" Of course I do, Ralph; I have not forgotten."

" Up to that time, Xellie, I had been nothing but

a boy--an aimless, frolicking boy. The girls I had

known had never caused me a second thought. After

I had seen vou------" <s He paused, the color had mounted his che;ks; his

eyes were searching hers with all the pleading of

wistful tenderness. Her e*v/ es did not falter,/ but there was less color in her cheeks, and her bosom

heaved.

He went on:

"After I had seen you the whole world seemed

changed. "I was no longer the same. Xew feelings

took hold of me. In all the world there was no

woman but vou. I felt unworthv of vou, and vet I

t,

--



J

v

felt that unless T could win you the world would be

black to me forever."

Her eyes were lowered now, and she gazed away--

off at the horizon, with a look of uncertainty and

pain.

" I knew that you loved me, Ralph, but I have

not meant to lead you on. We are both too young

to know our own minds vet." tj " Know my own mind! " he cried. " Do you sup

pose, after thinking and dreaming of you all these

months, that I could ever look at another woman ?"

" Do not all young men say that, Ralph ? " she

asked with a slight smile.

" But some of them mean it, Xellie, else there is

no such thing as true love in the world." [ 137 ]

BETHAXY

"And each young man believes at the time that

he is the true lover who does mean it," she continued

in the same tone of gentle raillery.

"But, Xellie, vou know I mean it. In vour heart

7

7f

t

of hearts tv- ou know that tvou hold mvv lifo in tv. our

hands. You know that if *v. ou were to turn tv. our bar-k

upon me and never speak to me again, I should never

lore any other girl."

He laid his hand upon hers: she did not snatch it

away, neither did she let it remain so. To all ap

pearances she was controlling herself by a great ef

fort. Impulse should not beat down her guard.

" Ralph, suppose you should see some other girl

who suited tv/ ou better/ You do not know. You have

not seen manv vet. *, t,

You have never been out of *v our

own neighborhood. What can either of us know

about the future and the new faces we shall see ? "

" There is something back of all this," he said

moodilyt/ . " People have talked to your father and mother

a bout'me, and set them against me; and you are

afraid to trust me."

At this she flushed, and her eyes kindled.

" Ralph, has any man the right to ask a girl to

put her life into his keeping before he has become

master of himself ( Don't v' ou want v> our sweetheart to be proud of you ? Don't you want her to put con-

iidence in you? Oh7 Ralph, do you dream of what

the misery of any poor girl must be when she gives

[ 138 ]

NELLIE ROBERTS'S HOME
her love to one who has not proven that he can be true to her in every sense of the word ? "
He was touched. Again he put out his hand, and rested it on hers for a moment.
"I know what you mean, Xellie. But I have been different since I knew you. From the first I have felt that I must turn over a new leaf, and make myself worthy of you."
They were both silent. She felt that his future and hers depended upon self-control; and at this crisis she was the stronger of the two. He felt that further words would avail nothing. After an in terval of silence, he said, simply: "I volunteered to-day to go to the army, Xellie."
What was the emotion which made her start? Was it joy, or was it a sudden panic of fear? Did she feel proud ? Did she regret ? Oh, wonderful secretiveness of the maidenly nature!
He could not for his life have told whether she was glad or sorry. Yet I am sure that he could not have said anything that would have lifted him higher in her esteem.
In common with the generality of our people, she had been filled with the belief that, if there should be any war at all, it would bo a very brief, glorious af fair. A sort of military promenade, with plenty of music, flowers, handsome uniforms, public applause, and happy results, was what the civil war was going to be. The Yankees won't fight, and Toombs will drink
[ 139 ]

BETHANY
all the blood that is spilled. Consequently there is rivalry between the chivalrous young men of the South to volunteer, and there is hasty leave-taking everywhere, lest the whole thing should be ended ere they reach the field of glory.
Still, in a vague way, Uncle Ralph felt that he was doing rather a serious thing to join the army. He had never been awav from home before. How
ts
it would all be in Virginia was a mystery to him; and there is a certain amount of uneasiness which most men feel concerning mysteries wherein guns and bayonets figure. Hence, he was unusually grave as he rose to say good-by. And I think his sweet heart softened toward him, relenting somewhat. Anyhow, she said: "Wait, Ralph." Then she went among the flowers, and she picked the choicest, and she made a tiny bouquet which she brought. She busied 'herself pinning it to the lapel of his coat, and when she let go the "flowers, he drew her to him with his strong right arm and kissed her before she could help it.
Then He was gone, and she stood looking after him without a word, speechless with indignation per haps, until the sound of his horse's galloping feet could no longer be heard down the road.
[140]

CHAPTER II
TO THE FRONT FOR OUR FLAG--MANASSAS
" For Dixie's land I'll take my stand, To live and die for Dixie !"
FEBVENTLY,, with almost hysterical enthusiasm,' the strains of " Dixie " were cheered throughout the length and breadth of the Southern country. Patriot ism was at white heat. The gray jacket was the badge of knighthood. Prouder than ducal coronet was the soldier's cap. Fairer women never inspired with brighter smiles the armed chivalry of any land under the sun than those who beamed encouragement upon the soldier boys of the South in 1861.
Who thought of four years of carnage ? Who dreamed of the valley of the shadow of death--the Malvern Hills, the Gettysburgs ? What seer, rapt, gloomy, prophetic, foretold the horrors that awaited a deluded people, and essayed to check the headlong advance of the Southern Lochiels ? The heavens were all serene, and nobody thought that they would be lurid soon with burning homes--with the ghastly
[ 141 1

BETHANY

incendiarism of Fredericksburg, and Atlanta, and

Columbia.

Attack the Xorth ? Xobody thought of it. Cross

the frontier, pillage Northern cities, slay Xorthern

people in their own territory ? Xobody meant to do

it. That was not the thought at all. Self-defense,

self-preservation, safety for our own homes, institu

tions, liberties--that was the ci; of the South;'that

was her purpose: that the inspiration which unfurled

her battle-flag. Let us alone! We have not sought

to interfere with you people of the Xorth; we do'

not attack tvf our domestic institutions,/ nor intermed-

die with vour State laws. Whv should vou make

*,

.

c,

war upon ours ? What right have you to meddle ?

You knew what our " peculiar institution " was be

fore you ever urged us to come into the Union with

you. We have not changed. What we were then,

we are now. It is you who have changed, not us.

Is the nigger more precious to you now than he was

then \ Is slaverv, more of a sin now than it was then ? Let us alone and we' will let ivou alone. Attack us
and we will fight for our rights as freemen till our

land is soaked with blood.

"For Dixie's land I'll take my stand, To live and die for Dixie ! "*

* It was the music of >; Dixie" which thrilled. The words of the original song were wholly unworthy. The two lines above quoted were the only ones we cared for.
[ 142 ]

TO THE FRONT
So ran the song: so throbbed the hearts of the people. On to Virginia, to protect the Southern frontier!
The drums beat in all the towns and cities; the Southern Cross flew in its field of red; the bands played; and the " Boys in Gray " fell into line.
Sad ? Xo. What was there to be sad about ? Was not the very air bracing and exhilarating with en thusiasm of patriotic purpose ? Did not the volun teer move to the colors on a path strewn with flowers ? The old and the young, the rich and the poor, the girls and the boys, all hurrahed for the Southern volunteer. The very negroes pulled off their wool hats and cheered lustily as the " Boys in Gray" passed by.
Doubt that his cause was just? 2so. How could he ? Had he not been taught from boyhood that State rights antedated national rights; that the States had created the nation by voluntary contract; and that the partners who had made the contract could unmake it, when its terms were broken ? To the simple, untutored mind of the Southern volun teer, the facts seemed clear and the logic irre sistible.
If South Carolina had seceded, was that any reason why Mr. Lincoln should call for an army to crush her? Had she done anyt/ more than Josiah Quincy had declared Massachusetts would do? Had the Milledgeville Convention in Georgia done any
[1431

BETHANY
more than the Hartford Convention in Connecticut had met to do ?
When Xew England threatened Jefferson and Madiaon with secession, did these presidents call for volunteers to invade Xew England \ Xo. The grievances were removed, immense national sacri fices being made to keep Xew England pacified.
WhIv/ threaten the South with invasion ? Had we done anything our fathers had not done; anything which the Xew England fathers had not done, or claimed the right to do ? Compromise had brought us together in the Union, compromise had kept us together in the Union: our renewed offers to settle all disputes along the lines of the old compromise of our fathers had been contemptuously rejected-- who then was to blame for the breach of the Union ?
Muster armies to threaten the South, invade the South, coerce the South ! Shame upon them! And should we truckle in base submission to the Xorth ?
TVe would die first. Rant, orator, rant!--till the foam froths at your
lips and your throat is hoarse and sore ! Sing, ladies, sing!--till the slumberous atmosphere of the Old South quivers with electrical passion! Blow, bugle. blow!--till ever*v> heart shall swell with martial purpose and every eye gleam with the light of battle!
The storm which has been brewing for fifty years has burst at last--burst Xorth, burst South--and
[144]

TO THE FRONT

the efforts of anv mortal man, North or South, to

V

/

f

stop its course would be that of him who whistles

against the wind.

Pompey the Great was rather too self-confident,

as the results proved, when he said that he could raise

an army by the stamp of his foot; but it is no exag

geration to say that Abraham Lincoln raised armies

with a spurt of his pen. The ink was not dry on the

proclamation in which he called for volunteers to

invade the South before there was a Southern host

readv to meet these volunteers at the border. c/ Word would go out through the towns, villages

and country neighborhoods, that Colonel A. or Cap

tain B. wanted to " raise a company " to go to Vir

ginia ; and if the said colonel or captain had the

proper standing, volunteers came at the call. It was

no trouble for the riarht sort of man to " raise a com

pany." In this manner Uncle Ralph had enlisted,

joining the Bethany Guards. As the men who vol

unteered in this company were all new men, with

out the slightest training or cohesion, and as they

were impatient to be incorporated in some regu

lar command, they were to be marched on foot to

Aug1 . usta. Thev*, formed in Bethanvi ,/ and thevi left tl>o town amid the waving of the white handkerchiefs

of the women and the loud cheering of the men.

They were to pass along the Big Road by our old

homestead, and we were on the lookout for them.

Uncle Ralph had told us good-by that morning when

ll

[ 145 ]

BETHANY

he left: but, as soon as we heard the drum up the

road, we hurried to the front gate--grandfather more

intent and excited than an*v/ of us. Here they came., step, step, step. I jumped the

f.'iice, ran out into the road, and jerked off my little cap--

" Hurrah for the ' Bonnie Blue Flag! ' "

Others had been shouting it all around me for

weeks. The soldiers were tickled at m*v* enthusi-

asm; thev cheered rne 2-ood-natiiredlv: thev saluted

tr

C

, /

t,

oilr folks who stood at the gate; and Uncle Ralph

ran out of the ranks to wring the hands of my mother

once more; and to say a final word, with a trembling

voice, to his old father.

" Good-bv, Pa. Take good care of yourself. You

t. '

~

c/

must write to me in Virginia."

Grandfather choked up; he could not say a word.

He put out his hand, already tremulous with palsy.

Uncle Ralph pressed it hard, started to say some

thing else, could not, and then ran to join his com

pany.

I had been following the soldiers. Every beat of

the drum made my blood tingle. I thought the flag

was the finest sight I ever beheld. It was of silk,

and beautifully worked, and upon it the radiance of

the sun played as upon a mirror. I reckon we were

half a mile from the house when Uncle. Ralph

stopped me.



" Go back now, little man," he said, and he caught

[ 146 ]

TO THE FRO NT

me up in his anus. I squeezed him around the neck,

and began to cry. " There, there," he said to soothe

me,7

"' vou t

must

not

cryt/ .

Good-bv */ "

little

man.

I

will write to you when T get to Virginia."

He sat me down and went to the fence, where a

Oherokee rose was running wild from panel to panel

of the rail fence. He cut one beautiful bud,

brought it to mo and said in a low tone, " You keep

this till Sunday, and when you go to Sunday-school

give it to--you know. Tell her it is to remember

me by."

He fell into ranks as soon as he caught up with

his company, and T could only see after that the un

dulating line and the brilliant flag. The road dipped

under the hill, and T saw them no more.

Uncle Ralph's company marched on, gaily enough,

throug^. h the countrv* of sand-beds and scrub oaks and tall pines toward Augusta. There was no hardship

and no hurry. In the day it was a pleasant walk; at

night no more than a camp-hunt bivouac.

On the second day, when they halted for a long rest

and dinner, the men amused themselves with games,

slmoting at marks, and with rough practical jokes

played upon one another. A boisterous fellow named

-Fenkins had been particularly full of fun and frolic--

overflowing with animal spirits. Going for water to

the spring near the camp, he had seen a green snake--

a slender thing belonging to the non-poisonous kind

described in the books. As all naturalists know, the

[ 147 1

BE T H A X Y
poisonous serpents have flat heads and stubby tails. Naturalists have long been aware of this. The ser pents which have slender heads and sharp tails carry no poison. Academic scientists all know this, and have long known it.
The green snake which Jenkins saw had a slender head and a long, keen, attenuated tail. Any aca demic scientist would have been delighted with this green serpent, so ideally did he represent the nonpoisonous type.
Laughing loudly at the fright he was going to give the boys, Jenkins caught the slender green snake and ran with it to the camp. lie made as if to put it on first one of the men, and then the other; and in the shake of a sheep's tail he had the camp stam peded. Everylxnly ran, some screaming, some laugh ing, some " cussing " and threatening Jenkins. All the while, the ideally non-poisonous serpent was biting Jenkins's arm. lie paid no attention; he knew it was not a snake of the deadlvt- kind;* he onlv*j laughed at the fright of the others, and started toward Uncle Ralph. Xow, my uncle was a brave man, but he had a mortal distaste for two things--a biting dog and a snake. When Jenkins ran toward him with the squirming reptile, Uncle Ralph jumped for his gun and called out: " Jenkins, if you put that snake on me I'll shoot you! "
Whereupon, Jenkins gave chase to some one else, the snake continuing to bite him in the arm.
[ 148 ]

TO THE FRONT

After a while Jenkins' face lost all of its fun. He

dashed the serpent to the ground and stamped its

life out. He sat down on the ground and said,

" Boys, I'm sick."

Uncle Ralph ran to help carry him into the shade

of a tree, while others got whisky from a knapsack

and poured it clown his throat. He grew worse and

worse. The poison had had the time it needed be

fore danger had been suspected. That night Jenkins

died. A detail carried him back home; and the

members

of

that

detail

would

alwavs u

look

uncom-

fortable when the incident was referred to--so ter

rible had been the grief with which the poor man's

family .received the corpse.

The evening of the second day brought the Beth-

any Guards into the city of Augusta, where their

appearance was greeted with every token of patri

otic enthusiasm. They were treated like heroes,

cheered by men and boys, smiled upon and given

flowers and inspiring words by women and girls;

furnished with all theiys needed to eat,7 and more than" they needed to drink.
t
Augusta has never been a Puritan town, nor a

e<>ld-blooded town; and at this period Charleston her-

eelf was not more fervently Southern.

Two local companies had long since been organ

ized in Augusta and drilled to capture the United

States Arsenal on the Hill. Long ago, telegrams

going through the local office from Washington, to
r 1491

BETHANY

collect the United States Gulf Squadron at Pensa-

cola, had been made known to the local leaders, and

Governor Joseph E. Brown had been notified. At

his instance, a trusty man was put into the telegraph

office to stop all such messages.

Long ago, the officer in charge of the arsenal had

surrendered it to the State authorities.

In such a town what would the Bethanv Guards c.
expect but an ovation ? What would they have, if

not a good time ? Hot and strong flowed the heady

wine of patriotic impulse in 1S61; and cold indeed

was the nature which did not vield to the intoxication. i* When the Bethanv Guards fell into line to march ,
to the depot, where they with other companies were

to take the cars for a destination in Virginia, every

soldier's musket had upon it a bouquet of flowers.

Beneath every gray jacket beat a proud heart: each

and every one believed that he was doing the noblest

thing that a Southern man could possibly do.

Shrill shrieks the whistle of the en n-- ine! Hurry up, men, and finish the farewells! One hand-shake

here, one more parting word there, one more whis

pered message yonder, one more sly, tender glance

sent and answered. A preliminary quiver runs

throughout the long line, of freight cars while the

locomotive puffs and blows, and then, " All aboard! "

There is a rush and a scurrv. a trampling of manv

f'

i

O

f

feet, a rattle of arms, a loud calling back and forth

of excited voices, a mingling of shriller feminine ex-

[150]

TO THE FRONT
clamations; and then the train pulls out, the freight cars crowded inside and on top with noisy, confident, jubilant volunteers. Cheers follow them, while handkerchiefs wave, and to every shout comes back a reply -from the soldiers as they go--till. the river is crossed, and Carolina takes them out of sight.
And so the Bethany Guards are off to the war-- all, excepting poor Jenkins, and the detail which carried his body back to his home.

Would it serve any useful purpose to linger upon

the details of the first experiences of these volun

teers ? We know how cheerfully they bore the dis

comforts of box-car travel; we know how keenly they

enioved the wavside ovations thev received when-

vv

v

*/

ever the cars stopped; we know how they relished

the large hampers packed with good victuals which

matronly women presented at every station; we see

those younger men throwing kisses at those buxom,

sweet-faced girls who have tossed flowers among

them. Xo black passions have yet been aroused. It

is all gay, buoyant, . generous. Xo vindictiveness

finds expression. Southern men are rushing to the

defense of their native land. Xothinso: more. Xobody doubts that it can easily be done. Nobody

thinks of retaliation. ' To invade the Xorth and

make war upon its homes is no soldier's purpose.

This sunny home-land of ours is invaded; we will

defend it. These mothers, sisters, sweethearts of

[ 151 1

BETHANY

ours are in danger; we will rush to arms to save

them. That, that, is the sole motive of the Confed

erate Volunteer.

And so we come to Petersburg. It is another Au

gusta. Sentiment is just the same, just as strong,

just as generous. The volunteers from Georgia are

heroes here in old Virginia, the same as thev were at

C7

'

t>

home. They are sent to Xorfolk; regiments elect

their officers; and in a short while thev see service--

:

*

t,

Portsmouth, the Charles City Road, and the Will-

iamsburgh Road. There is firing on the picket line.

It is not very hot, and the volunteers rather like it.

They begin to work off pent-up enthusiasm.

One da*v, there is a smart skirmish;' some Yankees are slain, some captured. The Georgia volunteers

note with interest that the dead bluecoats are

branded on the temple. How is this ? A prisoner

explains--the prisoner himself wearing the orna

ment of a brand on the temple. The dead men have

been felons, confined in the penitentiary; they had

been branded by the good Puritans, who had said so

much about the barbarity of Southern slave-drivers;

they had been released upon condition that they

would join the army; and here they were. At least,

that is what the prisoner said. The brand was there

to show for itself.*

* This statement of the brand on the temple was given to me by Col. Claiborne Snead. who saw it and heard the prisoner's explana tion.
[ 152 ]

TO THE FRONT
General Magrader is in command of our forces; General Butler commands on-the other side. Ad vancing on the road between Yorktown and Hamp ton, Butler's lieutenant.. General Pierce, meets a check at our hands. Only one Confederate soldier is killed in this affair of Big Bethel, Henry Wyatt, of Xorth Carolina, the first Southern soldier to fall on the battle-field in the great civil war.

From time to time we received letters from my

Uncle Ralph relating his experiences in the army.

Ho described to us the ups and downs of the soldier's life. Often he found the fatigue of the march more

than ho could stand; often he was hungry; often he

slept in a fence corner on the wet ground. Neverthe

less, he said that the soldier was generally full of

fun and courage. It was considered weak and un

manly to complain. He, therefore, looked on the

brie-lit side, and made the best of everything.

My Uncle Ralph took part in the first battle of

^fnnassas. and his letter afterwards, describing that

av.

ful

Rundav *

in

Julv,

1S61,

contained

details

which .

interested us immensely. At one time during the

fight, he said that our men looked as though they

were completely whipped. They had broken ranks,

and were falling back in disorder. He snid that he

was himself within a few feet of General Bartovr,

of our State, who was almost wild with grief at the

manner in which his brigade had been cut to pieces

[ 153 ]

BETHANY

and routed. He heard General Bartow cry in heart

broken tones:

" How can I ever show my face in Georgia

again ?"

A few moments later he was killed, while rallying

his troops, flag in hand, and trying to lead them back

to the assault.

He told us how some Mississippi troops mistook

the Eighth Georgia Regiment for Yankees, and fired

into them with terrible effect, Xo wonder poor Bar-

tow was almost frantic, played on as his five hundred

and fifty Georgians were by Sherman's battery in

front and the Mississippi rifles in flank. The little

pine thicket into which the Georgians had penetrated

was literally torn to pieces by the shells and grape.

Bartow's horse was killed under him, and when he

rallied to the side of the Seventh Georgia, there

were not more than a hundred of his men left. It

was a thrilling sight when General Beauregard lifted

his hat to the survivors, after the enemv had fled,

7

t/

*

and exclaimed: " I salute the Eighth Georgia Regi

ment !"

My uncle described the well-known circumstance

of Jackson and Bee--how the splendid courage and

dash of the Yankees had overwhelmed the command

of General Bee; how that officer had ridden up to

Jackson saying, with despair in his voice, " General,

they are beating us back I " how Jackson had curtly

answered, " Sir, we will give them the bayonet! "

.[154]

TO THE FRONT
how Bee had returned to his shattered soldiers, ex claiming, " There is Jackson, standing like a stone wall: rally behind the Virginians: let us determine to die here and we will conquer: follow me! " and how the dauntless man with his rallied handful had charged the enemy, and had fallen dead--face to the foe.
The Mississippians were in hard luck that day, for after littering the earth with Georgians, they made a similar mistake with the South Carolina troops, and played havoc among them for a while.
My uncle related the story of the young soldier who caught a rabbit which a stray shot had wounded, and who kept it by him during tho battle--eating it that night. He said the men were nearly dead for water, and that in the intervals of loading and firing they picked blackberries to allay the intolerable thirst.
The letter went on to say that there was a farm house in the line of fire between the two armies, and that the family remained in it throughout the battle.
Grandfather, mother and I exhausted the excla mations of astonishment when that portion of the letter was reached.
My uncle explained that the family consisted of an old bed-ridden woman and her two children. As the bullets began to strike the house, they shifted the invalid from place to place, now up-stairs, now down stairs, till at length her time came, and with it the
[155]

BETHANY
ball which fate had meant for her. More than a hundred shells struck the house, riddling it, but the son and daughter escaped without a wound.
He said that among the articles captured were sev eral-wagon-loads of handcuffs.
" Handcuffs '. '* cried grandfather. " Yes, that is the way it is written," answered mother. " What on earth could the Yankees want with handcuffs ? " I asked. " Perhaps to put on prisoners," said grandfather, after a silence of some moments. The letter spoke of a soldier named Dejournette, a Georgian, who had been wounded, captured, and then left behind by the retreating enemy; and who, managing to get hold of a musket, had killed Colonel Slocum, of Rhode Island. This officer., following behind his regiment, had drawn his revolver, and was about to shoot Dejournette, not suspecting that the wounded man had got a loaded musket, and was ready to defend himself. The letter also described how an Alabama boy, William R. Oakley, a private in the Lauderdale Rifles, had strayed from his command, got captured and been bound hand and fo<<t with a rope; how he had gnawed the rope in two, freed himself, seized a dead man's musket and started out to> find his regi ment, when he encountered a Federal officer on horse back. This was Colonel Corcoran, of the Sixty-
[156]

TO THE FRONT

ninth ~s"ew York regiment. Before the Northern

colonel could catch on to the situation, the seventeen-

year-old Alabamian had brought the musket to his

shoulder, and was remarking, " Come down; you are

my prisoner! "" Mounting the horse, the boy piloted

his captive to Beauregard's tent, and rumor reported

that the general had made a captain out of the boy

on the spot.

My uncle said that after the fight was ended, the

Confederate soldiers did all thev- could for the wounded Yankees; and that the wounded of both

armies helped each other as far as they were able.

He saw one badly hurt Xew York boy, bleeding al

most to death, who exclaimed, " It serves me right

for being a fool; I had no business here! "

" Poor fellow! " sighed mother. "I hope he will

get well. If I could get the chance I would like to

nurse him."

The letter spoke of another boy, who had been

bruised by a spent ball, and at whose side walked

an old man of sixtv/ ,' with a shattered arm. The bov was crying. Asked what was the matter, he replied:

" The Yankees killed two of m*v. brothers:/ -the,,y fell at my side. But I saw the man who shot one of

them and I killed him."

" What

an

awful

Sabbath

dav t

that

was! "

ex-

claimed my sympathetic mother.

My uncle described the field after the battle--

the ground torn up, the puddles of blood, the arms

[157]

BETHANY

and legs scattered about, the heads without bodies, the bodies without heads, human brains splashed

around; some men silent in agony, some moaning feebly, some screaming with pain, some cursing fate and crying for water.
" What an awful Sabbath! " exclaimed my mother again.

11 Yes," remarked my grandfather, in his driest

tone, i% I often wonder how God and His angels can

allow Satan to have ever*y. thingC1 his own wa\vj as he. so often seems to do."

Mother was shocked. " Whv, father, there are

*J '

7

some things, you know, that it was not intended we

should understand. God works in a m\yj sterious way------"

" He certainly does/' interrupted grandfather. " Go on with the letter."
My uncle had seen one man whose jaw had been torn oS; it hung by the threads on one side. An other had the front of his stomach blown away, so that his entrails had run out. Another had his shoulder shot off; another's head had been blown open and the brains were oozing------
" Mother! " I cried, " skip to some other place in the letter!- That makes me turn cold and sick! "
There was a good deal more of just such horrors,

but she passed them over. My uncle spoke of one poor Northern soldier
whom they found on Tuesday. ' He had crept out C158 J

TO THE FRONT

into the bushes, wounded to the death, and had made

himself a head-rest out of the twigs and leaves.

There he had died; and when they found him his

hands were crossed over his breast, and his Testa

ment lay by his side.

Here my mother gave way to tears, and none of

us was unmoved.

My uncle gave a glowing account of how the two

generals, Beauregard and Johnston, had galloped to

the front at a critical time, and had seized the stand

ards, cheered the troops, and led them in person to

the charge. Indeed, the battle trembled in the bal

ance for one tremendous moment; and the dashing

gallantry of the two leaders was all that saved the

day.

He said that it was reported that one of the sol

diers of the Union army, as he lay weltering in his

blood, cried out, "My God! What is all this for?"

At this my grandfather was as much excited as

I ever saw him. He rose to his full height, and for

a

moment

there

was

fire

in

his

eves. t/

" It's all because the damned politicians and fa

natics on both sides think more of the offices than

they do of the people! It's because the sectional

hatred, which has been fanned for a hundred years,

has caught fire! It's because the abolitionists, like

all fanatics, and the fire-eaters of the South, like all

madmen, would rather sink the world than give up

a purpose.

[159]

BETHANY
" In 1832, when South Carolina wanted to defy the Government, I was one of the fifty-four Geor gians who followed John Forsyth out of the conven tion in Milledgeville which indorsed the position of our sister State. 1 am sorry now that I did it. The fight had to come, and we have lost half our chances by not making a united struggle then '. ''

All the world knows how Stonewall Jackson's

firmness, aided by the arrival of Kirby Smith's fresh

troops, turned the tide in our favor. Uncle Ralph's

letter stated that the citizens of Washington had

turned out to witness the battle, as though it was

Barnum's show.

Thousands of men and women, high public func

tionaries, were in attendance. The House of Rep

resentatives adjourned in order that Congressmen

might go over and see the Union army march to Rich

mond.. Xobodv on that side doubted the victorv.

t.

*

They were so sure of it that they had brought the

champagne and other necessaries for a banquet, with

which

thev - ,

intended

~o

celebrate

their

.-riiimpi h.

After their defeat, the panic was indescribable.

It was a wild race, as of a stampeded herd x to get

across the Potomac.

The jubilation among Southern people, following

this first battle of Manassas, was natural, but it was

hurtful to us in the long run. We became too self-

confident. We neglected preparations. We under-

[160]

TO THE FRONT

estimated our foes. We failed utterly to realize the

magnitude of the task before us. O

Our

armv f

was

almost as much disorganized by success as the other

was by defeat. After winning the victory, we spent

the balance of the year bragging about it. And while

wo were content with singing " Beauregard and John-

ston," the Northern people were girding up their

loins for mightier efforts. .

All things considered, it might have been better

fur us had old General Scott ended his long career

by giving us at Bull Run a moderate and merciful

drubbing.

NOTE.--In those far-gone days there was a young school-teacher in Louisiana who bore in his emotional nature every hope, fear, sympathy," yearning and aspiration of the Old South. Born and reared in Maryland, loving hi.s native State with ardent loyalty, his eyes, during his temporary exile, were continually and anxiously turned homewards. His immediate environment was that of in tense Secessionism. "Southern Rights "was everybody's watch word, and every throb of his heart echoed it But lie was a Marylander. Louisiana had seceded, what would Maryland do ? Her sisters of the South were in deadly peril, her help was needed,
what would she do? By day and by night the black-eyed creol'.'-looking school teacher
pondered, hoping, fearing, sick with suspense. Why did his homepeople hesitate? Would Maryland never act? Something in the newspapers caught his eye one day, some vague encouragement, and in a rush of profoundly earnest feeling, he, James K. Rand all, as true a poet as ever sang, dashed off the famous lines

" Maryland ! My Maryland ! "

They electrified the South then; they move the soul with their burning passion to-day. If ever the soul of a man passed into poesy,

12

[-101]

BETHANY
it went into this. And if ever deep called unto deep, it was when. the fervor of this poet made its appeal to the South.
Alas ! Maryland did not come. It was even then too late. The bayonet pinned her down. The overwhelming moral weight of the ' despot's heel " was already on her " shore." But the poem made a profound impression, not only in Maryland, but throughout the Southern States.
In the whole range of literature, is there, in fact, a more soulstirring- war-song? Is there a poem more perfectly lyric in spirit, conception and expression? It would puzzle you to name it.
Go read the entire poem. Consider it in all the circumstances surrounding its birth. Consider the variety of the chords it touches, and the power with which they are struck. Realize the tempestuous torrent of feeling, gripped within the classic mold of the polished stanzas. It is the sacred fire imprisoned within a Grecian vase.
He has lived neglected--as Edgar Poe was neglected. "When he dies we will give him a monument--as we have done for Poe. And then his exquisite verses will be collected and we will weep re gretful tears as we have done over Poe, when we realize what a ra diant spirit had dwelt unknown in our midst. After which, we will console our consciences by sending additional missionaries to amend the manners of the heathen.
r 162]

CHAPTEK III

RALPH AND NELLIE AGAIN

UNCLE RALPH was at home on furlough at the

close of the year 18G1. How proud we were of our

gallant-looking young soldier, dressed in his uni

form! I could never wear off the novelty of it, or

dull the ed;e of my boyish admiration. It was a

O

,

/

pretty picture, that of grandfather and Uncle Ralph

strolling about the grove, palsied age and robust

youth, the old man proud of his soldier son, who

was affectionately deferential to him.

" Hi! Marse Ralph! " sung out all the negroes.

" Christmas Gif, Marse Ralph! " The holidays

would not be ushered in properly if negroes couldn't

catch the white folks' " Christmas Gif."

Well, they all had their little presents, as usual;

and Uncle Ralph looked in on their Christmas dance;

and he once more beat everybody on the place run-

ning a foot-race. More than ever, he was the " life

of the plantation"--in that Christmas time of

1801-62."

When he mounted his horse and rode southward,

[ 163 ]

BETHANY
all of us knew what iliai meant. He was going to see Xellie Roberts.
On the next Sabbath, as the congregation gathered at Bethany for services, there was quite a little flut ter and buzzing, as Uncle Ralph, in full uniform, stepped into the aisle with the belle of the pineywoods on his arm. More than one matron, with match-making proclivities, whispered, " What a handsome couple! v
There wasn't much of a sermon that day, and no conscientious committee on " The State of the Church" could have reported progress. For it so happened that Brother Gilbert Ilubbell occupied our pulpit. In those days preachers in our part of the moral vinetvt ard did not use notes. Thevt trusted to inspiration. Most of them had an abundant flow of talk, which needed nothing so much as a condenser; and, as the congregations were not critical, pretty much anv*. sort of a clerical donkev. could have his bray, provided it did not take him too long to finish. We had been trained to accept, or tolerate, any rub bish an orthodox preacher was a-mind to give us, and to be thankful that it was no worse. And we had been educated not to talk back at the pulpit, no matter what silly arguments and absurd statements we might hear. When I was a boy, it used to occur to me that if preachers--like lawyers, editors, stumpspeakers and legislators--knew that they would be followed by critics, who would expose misstatements
[1641

RALPH AND NELLIE AGAIN
and ridicule flimsy arguments, they, the preachers, would be a good deal more careful, and benefits of various sorts might result.
Brother Gilbert Hubbell was a rough diamond-- an exceedingly rough, untrimmed diamond. He had round etv. es that looked like blue marbles.- You could no more look into them than you could look into a hard-boiled egg. He chewed tobacco, and the quan tity of amber he could squirt around and about -was something exceptional. He had a short leg, so that ' he walked with a hop. The forefinger of his right hand was stiff. With this stiff, inexorable finger, he used to stab at sinners, and point the way to hell.
He always took a text, but that act was perfunctory only--a mere concession to precedent. Xb matter what text he might read, his sermon consisted of whatever he happened to have on his mind at the time. And he himself did not always know what he
c/
had on his mind until he pushed back his specs, and began to " lumber."
Brother Hubbell was not our pastor at Bethany. IIo was simply a good old surplus, who could be reliod on to fill any vacant Baptist pulpit for many miles around. When one of the regular incumbents of the churches was absent, or sick, or unusually lazy, the deficit was made good by our surplus--the Rev erend Gilbert Hubbell.
He had no regular charge himself, though he was exceedingly fond of preaching. He was just a plain
[1651

BETHAXY

farmer who had heard himself " called " to preach.

His heart was somewhere in the neighborhood of the

right place; and his character had never provoked

anv activity in the Grand Jury room, but he was as

/

*;

*,

/

ignorant as a yoke of steers. I used to wonder why

they allowed him to preach at all; but, afterward,

when I came to listen to some of the theological-

seminary specimens, my memory went back regret

fully to Brother Ilubbell. Give me heart without

book-knowledge, rather than book-learning without

heart. For if religion has got any message that will

benefit me and you, our hearts must be touched--

and changed.

Old Brother Ilubbell was rather trying at times,

and his readings of the Scripture, and his pronuncia

tion of the hard words, used to cause much discom

fort and stirring about in the congregation. There

would at times appear to be more coughing than was

justified by the state of the weather. A sudden

exodus from the rear benches was not unusual.

If ever, in his reading of the Book, he came to the

word Stephen, at the end of a line where it was cut

in two by a hyphen, Brother Hubbell invariably pro

nounced the martyrs name Step Hen. Hyphens

were things undreamt of in the philosophy of Gil

bert Ilubbell. To him Xebuchadnezzar was nothing

more than plain, simple Xebucktaneezer--no matter

who coughed or did not cough.

On the Sunday when Xellie and Ralph were there

[ 166 ]

RALPH AND NELLIE AGAIN
together, the text was " The Lord is my Shepherd." With such a text, it was natural that he should preach on Predestination; and he did so.
For five minutes he jogged along, in a quiet, mo notonous, sing-song voice, setting forth his individual views on that simple dogma. There are some minis ters of the gospel who fearlessly grapple with the task of holding forth, at one and the same time, on both Predestination and Free Will; and they har monize the two in a manner quite satisfactory and conclusive. But Brother Iluobeli never ventured tasks like those. Predestination was as much as he wanted to handle at a time.
" One step enough for me"; and, therefore, Brother Kubbell, on this occasion, warmed up to the task of demonstrating that whatever was intended from before the foundation of the world was bound to happen, no matter how laboriously we poor worms of the dust might tug and heave in the opposite di rection.
Brother Hubbell was amazed, as well he might be, that any sane citizen should challenge and defy so self-evident a truism. But, in order to convince even the giddy, he would give an illustration.
By this time he had got up steam, and was hop ping from one side of the pulpit to the other, at the imminent risk of tumbling down the steps. The stiff forefinger was stabbing and jabbing at unseen ene mies on every side. At the top of his voice he
[167] it

B'E T H A N Y
chanted: " But, oh, my hearers, let me illustrate this great truth! Let me give you a simple fact which happened to me only a few days ago. It proves pre destination. It shows that man can not check or forestall the eternal judgments, and that whatever was intended from before the foundation of the world is bound to happen, no matter what any man may do.
" I was out a-huntin'. I saw a dove, a-settin' on a limb. It was as fair a mark as I ever saw. I cocked mv crm: I drawed a bead on the bird; I
*- *--
pulled the trigger--and slir snapped!" The tremendous emphasis with which the old field
preacher uttered the words "' she snapped" I shall never forget. They almost bounced me off the seat.
I looked at Uncle Ralph, but did not catch his eye. He was looking straight ahead, sober as a judge.
" But, oh. my hearers! ?? chanted Brother Hubbell, hopping to the other edge of the pulpit, u that there bird was still a-settin' on that there limb. She was not more'n thirty-five yards off. A fairer mark I never saw. Again I cocked my gun, again I drawed a bead, again I pulled the trigger--and again she snapped! "
And as he came to that repetition of the wayward behavior of his hitherto trustworthy gun, Brother Hubbell stamped on the floor with his best foot, and his voice rose to a scream of emphasis.
This time I was prepared for it, and I managed [168]

RALPH AND NELLIE AGAIN

to hold on to the bench. Then the chant rose once

more:

" But, oh, my hearers! Listen now. I'm a-comin'

on down the line. Listen ! and see the sign on the

wall! That there bird never moved till I was

a-cockin' my gun a third time, yet before I could

draw a bead, she had took wing, and away she flew.

Xow listen! I then aimed that gun at a stump, just

to see what was what, and she went off with a bang,

and she filled that there stump with missiles of

death !

"X>w, *

mv t,

brethren, *

and

all

fvou

sinners!

If it

had not been predestined otherwise from before the

foundation of the world, don't }*ou know I'd ha'

killed that bird! ''

In reaching the climax of his illustration, Brother

Iliibbell had hopped to our side of the pulpit, and, as

it happened, had overdone the thing. He stepped

beyond the edge, lost his balance, clutched wildly at

the pulpit rail, missed it, and went sprawling to the

floor. So great was the momentum that he rolled

under the deacon's bench "before he stopped.

There was no laughter. Whatever feeling the ser

mon had caused, 'the accident aroused sympathy.

I'ncle Ralph was one of the first to help the good old

man to his feet, dust the grit off, and to assist him back

to his place. With thoughtful tact, a hymn had been

" raised'"; everybody joined in, and, under the

friendly cover of sacred song, the incident closed.

[169]

BETHANY Then followed the second prayer; then the Long Meter Doxology--so dear to the country-people of our land. When Brother Ilubbell arose to dismiss the con gregation, his composure had been restored, and all heads \rere bent reverently as he pronounced the time-honored benediction.
[170]

CHAPTER IV
ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT
IT was early in March, 1862, when Uncle Ralph set out to rejoin his company in Virginia. The cars were crowded with men returning to the army, a& well as with recruits who had just volunteered. There were the Ramsey hoys of Lincoln county, and their friend, Toombs Cullars. There was a squad from Wilkes, and a squad from Warren, and a squad from Mr. Stephens's county, Taliaferro.
The youthful volunteers were in the highest state of jollity. Who cared for the rough riding in freight cars ? Who minded the wind and the cold, or the sun and heat, on the tin-covered roof? The volun teer gloried in his lusty youth; and it was his pride to laugh at such petty discomforts.
It was late in the evening when they reached Gordonsville, Virginia, and a cold rain, driven by an east wind, was falling steadily. The trip had been glorious in respect to wayside ovations, one cheering feature of which had been provision-baskets crammed full of the best victuals. But box-car travel
[1711

BETHANY

had not proven a luxury. The cheerful novelty of

it soon wore off. Many a night as the volunteers lay

on the tin roof, or on the floor within the stifling car

itself, their minds went back to the soft beds at

home.

There was no ovation awaiting them at Gordons-

ville. Xo lunch-baskets invited and soothed the ap

petite. -The rain dripped perseveringly on the roof

of the old box-ear: and the volunteers looked around

ruefully to find quarters for the night. It was cold;

and no fires blazed welcome anywhere.

"Report.to the Commissary, and get your tar

paulins ! ''

So spoke an officer, and off tnidged the volunteers

in the mud to find the Commissary.

""What's a tarpaulin, Dolph ? " asked Toombs

Cullars of Dolph Kanisey.

" Dam'f I know. Hope it's sump'n t'eat."

They soon found out that it meant a piece of tar-

soaked cloth about ten feet square. The first one

was handed out, and received with awe.

" How many of 'em do we git '. " asked Cullars.

The Commissary answered that each fourteen men

would get one tarpaulin. 1 a What do we do with it after we git it? " it YVou make a tent or shelter out of it, and you

sleep under it."

Cullars said: " Bovs, let's all cuss! "

V

/

Well, sir, it was so unexpected, so ludicrous, to

C 172 }

ONCE MORE" TO THE FRONT

these raw recruits--this military hypothesis that

fourteen men could shelter themselves from the rain

under, a strip of canvas ten feet square--that they

actually burst out laughing;.

" Don't it beat hell ? " laughed Cullars, tickled to

death.

They sought the woods, stretched the tarpaulin

slantwise, like one side of the roof of a house--slant

ing it so as best to protect themselves--and labori

ously made a fire with wet wood. A cup of coffee

and some cold food from the haversack made the

supper; then, sighing for the lost luxury of the box

car, thev laid themselves down beneath the canvas.

/

\j

f

their blankets being stretched upon wet leaves or

bare, soaked ground. Literally, the fourteen men

had to lie, edge to edge, in order to keep under shel

ter: and when they had lain upon one side as long as

they could stand it, they were all compelled to get up

before they could place themselves on the other side.

First on one edge and then' on the other--thus slept

the enthusiastic volunteer? their first night in \7ir-

ig--- inia. Xext morning^ the*v were loaded on cars and taken to the Army of Xorthern Virginia which was

in camp.

To the raw recruits what a sight was this multi

tude of white tents, dotting the field as far as the

eye could see, this coming and going of commissary

wagons, this glimpse of a host in arms!

As the untutored countrymen tramped forward to

[ 173 ]

BETHANY

join the ranks, they saw sullen-looking soldiers

marching back and forth, musket in hand.

" What are they doing that for ? " asked Cullars,

turning to Uncle Ralph, who was acting as guide.

" That's the guard."

" Guardin' what ? I don't see nothin' to guard."

" Why, man, he keeps guard to stop any of our

boys if they wanted to leave camp."

The astonishment, of the recruits was genuine, if

not painful.

" Look here!'" exclaimed Cullars. " Do you mean

to say that a Southern man who has gone and vol

unteered, and has come hundreds of miles to fight for

his country, ain't allowed to step outside his own

camp?"

".He can't go without a pass," answered L^ncle

Ralph.

" Then after we git in there we can't go nowhere

without a pass--just like a d------d nigger! "

The disgust of Cullars was extreme. And to a

verv considerable extent the other recruits shared it. */

But thev marched on, nevertheless, found the reai-

l>

/

7

<T:

ment they sought, were heartily welcomed by neigh

bors, friends, old schoolmates, and relatives, who had

joined the army the year before. Then, for many

an hour, the newcomers had to tell the news from

home, and answer a thousand and one questions about

the loved ones in dear old Georgia.

How the recruits learned to fit themselves to their

[174]

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT
surroundings, how they were drilled and disciplined, how they soon fell into rough, soldierly ways is an old story. When all is said and done, camp-life is hard, is brutalizing, is nasty; and the more faith fully the picture is painted the less romance will at tach to it. The camp is no place for the man whose nerves are weak, whose feelings are sensitive, whose stomach, is easily upset, and whose principles are rigid.
Woe unto that member of the mess who has ex posed his weakness on any of these lines. He would see no peace, night or day, until he " quit putting on airs," and became a penitent conformer to all the nide standards of the camp.
One of the unwritten laws in the Southern Army was that the soldier who punctually answered roll-call in the morning, and who had performed all his duties throughout the day, marching, fighting, entrenching with spade and shovel, or scouting far beyond the lines, could sit around the camp-fires at night and talk as long as he pleased--regardless of the bugle-calls of " Lights Out"
And at these camp-fires, where the privates smoked, drank, played cards or gossiped, the freest discussion of public affairs was constantly indulged.
The greater number of these private soldiers be longed to families who were quite as good as the Lees, the Johnstons, the Stuarts, and the Magruders. These men of the line had been to school and college,
[1751

BETHANY
many of them were lawyers, editor?, doctors, skilled mechanics, independent merchants and farmers. Their place in the social world at home, their hahits and education had accustomed them to unlimited freedom in criticising' all piihlic men from President down to village postmaster.
The gulf which now separates the private from the officer all over the world, did not exist in the armies of the South.
The Southern soldier was a ^g- entleman who had volunteered to defend his native land against inva sion ; and, for the time being, ho submitted to mil itary organization and discipline: but it never was his idea, for a moment, that he thereby degraded himself into the position of a social inferior: and the officers, from General Lee down, understood this per fectly well. Xothing was more common tlia-n for the private in the ranks to guy unpopular or fancifully dressed officers, even in the hearing of the command ing general.
Once on the march from Savannah to Charleston, orders were given to certain Georgia and Alabama troops that no gun should be fired. The men had a wavv of shootingc off their <gTuns when thev< had g~ot wet,' in order to clean and reload. On .the morning in ques tion, a thoughtless volunteer fired his musket. A brilliantly dressed staff officer dashed up on horse back, jerked out his revolver, and shot the poor fel low dead.
[ 176 ]

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT

There was fury in the hearts of the privates all

that day. More than one musket showed a tendency

to get in line with that smart, martinet West Pointer.

Cooler heads kept mutiny down, but it was hard

work. That night when the camp-fires were lit, and

the brutal deed could be talked over, the rage of the

men broke all bounds. With one irresistible and

common impulse they grabbed their muskets, and

broke for the officers' tents. God! What terrible

cries of anger and vengeance startled the night!

Hoarse and frantic, the enraged soldiers shouted

the name of the brutal staff-officer, demanding his

life, damning him with fierce curses and execrations.

Liiekfv it was for him that he had scooted to some hiding-place! Lucky for him that these desperate

men could not lay their hands upon him. Balked of

their prey, the men hesitated, were appealed to by

officers whom thev/ loved,/ were soothed and calmed,/ and finally led back to camp. When day broke, the

martinet staff-officer was far on his way to join the'

Armv. of the West. He had saved the Yankees the trouble of killing one Southern volunteer.

The German officer, of the extreme type, can, and

does, spit into the mouth of the private, the purpose

being to impress the mind of the private with a sense

of his vast inferiority--rail German officers being

more or less infected with the " I and God " theory

of the inflated and blatant Kaiser. But the officer

who would have ventured upon any such experiments

13

[ 177 ]

BETHANY
with a soldier of the South -would have paid for it with his life.
" What's become of Toombs ? " They were sitting around the fire, after a day of drilling. They all knew of the part which Toombs had borne in the political movements leading to seces sion ; they knew that he had been made Secretary of State to the Confederate Cabinet, but of late few had heard of him. " Toombs has got a brigade, and he's down at Yorktown, under Magruder," some one answered. " Under Magruder ? What can a man like Toomba do with a small thing like a brigade ? " " Well, I suppose they couldn't offer him less, and were afraid to give him more. You see he has never been to Wes' Pint." " Damn Wes' Pint! " exclaimed Toombs Cullars heartily. Cullars had first seen light when young Bob Toombs was the rising star of Georgia politics, and old Mr. Cullars had been proud to name his boy after the brilliant tribune. Toombs Cullars was red-headed, blue-eyed, stoutly built, not too tall, nor too large--in fact, as fine a figure of a mediumsized man as you ever clapped eyes on. And, withal, he was a jovial blade, loved a glass, loved a lass, and played the fiddle. " Damn Wes' Pint! " said he, with conviction and heartiness. " Why so, Toombs ? " asked Uncle Ralph.
[178]

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT

" I'll tell you why," answered Cullars. " It's be

cause Wes' Pint men have got hold <-f this here Con

federacy, and are tryin' to run it on little two-by-

four Wes' Pint methods. A great volunteer' move

ment can't be run that way. The Southern people

rose up almost to a man to go into this fight, and

their enthusiasm was the strongest thing in our

favor. Jeff Davis is a Wes' Pint man, and he run

the War Department under President Pierce in the

Wes' Pint wav, and now he's trvin' to run the Con-

t/ x

t,

federate States on the same narrer one-boss way. I

tell you it won't do. The truth is Bob Toombs ought

to have been President."

" They told us here last year," said Uncle Ralph,

" that he came within one vote of getting the nom

ination on the secret ballot. They say if he had

pushed for the place, he might have got it."

"I didn't know that," said Cullars. " Pity to

come so close to the mark and then miss."

" I have heard/' said Uncle Ralph, " that Toombs

would have been made President, anvhow, if it had

/

t,

/

not been for a misunderstanding, and also for a

slip-up which Toomhs himself made."

" Yes, I know what you mean," said Cullars, with

warmth. " You mean he got drunk at a big dinner

party in [Montgomery, and disgusted some of the

delegates who had intended to vote for him."

" That's the report," admitted Uncle Ralph.

" Suppose be did get drunk! " exclaimed Cullars.

[179]

BETHANY
" Don't ever*v, bod*v. know that conduct at a dinner -table is one thing, and conduct at the post of duty another \ Didn't old Sam Houston used to (ret drunk as a biled owl ? Who cared for that when thev saw
c
him head the charge at San Jacinto and win inde pendence for Texas ? "
Uncle Ralph pondered a moment and then rep]ied: *' Well, I am not the right man to find fault with any man for drinking. I've done a good deal of it mv* self. And nobocltv thinks more of Toombs than I do; but I can not much blame delegates from other States for not wanting to trust the fortunes of the Confederacy to a man who gets drunk."
"Prejudice! Prejudice! Xothin' but prejudice!" maintained Cuilars. " Don't the storvt. -books tell us that Alexander the Great got drunk, and his father got drunk: and didn't Daniel Webster get so drunk over in Charleston the day the lawyers gave him the big dinner that he hadn't got straight the next day when he spoke in Augusta--and he let Charles J. Jenkins beat him a-speakin' \ "
There was a jolly laugh all round, Uncle Ralph joining in. .He resumed in his steady way:
" Well,/ Davis did not seek the Presidencv*. ,> and was not expecting it. He was not in Alabama at all when the election was held. He had to be sent for, away out in Mississippi. Xobody doubts that he is a smart man and a pure-hearted man. He will do all that anvt, man can do. Just now the wa<v/ to sue-
[180]

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT

cess is to be won by the soldiers, not the office

holders."

" That's so! " said Cullars, " but the soldier can't

stand his ground unless he's fed, clothed, taken care

of when wounded or sick; and he can't put any heart

into his work unless his family is provided for at

home. There's where Toombs would have shown his

sense. He's a business man. He's what they call a

financier. He wanted the government to issue bonds

and get in a large supply of cotton, and with this

cotton establish a credit in Europe on which we

could get improved guns, ships, war supplies of

all kinds, and he couldn't get Davis to listen to

him."

" If Davis refused to listen," replied Uncle Ralph,

" Toombs should have made the Confederate Con

gress listen. He had a voice there, and he made

speeches there. In fact, Mr. Cobb told me he was

present at a secret session of the Provisional Con-

gross in Richmond when the very question you refer

to was discussed. He described to me the bold, dra

matic manner in which Toombs, dressed in his new

Brigadier uniform, dashed into the debate, how forci

bly he set forth this verv scheme of the Cotton Loan,

*-

,

7

and how enraptured the members of Congress

seemed to be as they listened to the speech. When

Toombs sat down, Robert II. Smith of Mobile arose

and said, 'Mr. President, if the. gentleman from

Georgia does not bring in bills to carry into effect

[1811

BETHAXY

the suggestion he has made, he is a worse traitor

than Benedict Arnold.' "

" What did Smith mean bv that ? " asked Cullars. C
" He meant that, as Toombs knew so well what

ought to be done, it was his duty to attempt to

put his plan into practise. Knowing how to save

his

countrv. /

he

would

be

false

if

he

didn't

try >

to

save it."

" And what did Toombs do ? "

" He did nothing. He had made his speech, had

had his say, and there he stopped. He kept on abus

ing Jeff Davis, drinking fire-water, and damning

Wes' Pint."

Here the laugh went against Cullars.

" A good many people think that Toombs is a

better hand at tearing down than he is at building

up," continued Uncle Ralph quietly.

" It's a great pity," remarked Dolph Ramsey,

" that our leaders are getting so badly split up. Our

Vice-President is not in harmony with our President;

our

Secretarv */

of

State

has

got
<-

tired

of

totinjr <*--

the

archives around in his hat and has become a Briga

dier: Joe Johnston is nursinff a grievance: and

*

*-

*?

Ben Hill and William L. Yancey are at logger

heads; and there are some of the Richmond news

papers fighting Jeff Davis as hard as we are fighting

Abe Lincoln."

" Men will be human, no matter where you put

'em/' said Cullars, buoyantly. " When there were

[ 182 1

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT
only two boys on the face of the earth, one of them knocked the other in the head. I reckon the Yankees have as many feuds on their side as we have on
ours."
" I'll tell you what made Toombs come to the army," a new voice put in sleepily.
" What was it, son ? " Cullars said encouragingly. " He had said so d------d much about fighting, and about the blood he would drink, and about how easy it would be for us to whip 'em with corn-stalks, that he knew he could never show his face again at home unless he did fight." Cullars pounced upon this weak reasoning, as a bob-cat'bounces a rabbit. " Why, son, that's to his credit! I know some other big men who talked about fightin' just as loud as Bob Toombs ever did, and these men are in bombproofs this yen' minute, takin' care o' their bacon! And how is it up Xorth ? Are the men who stirred up the war doin' any fightin' ? - Every darn one of the fellows who ripped and raved, until they got the people to fightin', now holds some office, or is hid out of sight. Look at old Zach Chandler, who was the first to talk about ' blood lettin'.' The last one of that Abolition gang is wearin' a long-tailed black coat, and stuffin' his belly on gov'ment pie! " There was a regular whoop of horse-laughter, and Dolph Ramsey, who gloried in Cullars, shouted: " Go it, Toombs! "
[183]

BETHANY
" Time to turn in, boys! " said my TJncle Ralph, and in a few minutes they were sound asleep.

The men had not been in camp many days before

orders came to be ready to march at a moment's ts
notice.

The whole armvt- was to move toward Richmond. Cook rations, pack up tents and baggage, load the

wagons--be readv to move! 'Just before set of sun,

O

*/

/

the march of the army began.

Xow, in order that 50,000 soldiers shall break

camp and fall into line of march a vast deal of work

is necessary, and the process seems to the outsider

slow and confused. But it is not. On the contrarv t/
it is swift and systematic. The huge mass, made up

of so many regiments, brigades and divisions, has to

be straightened out in one long column; a multitude

of orders flt<v;' endless varieties of minor movements occur; but all of them harmonize with the general

plan and purpose--for the massed army to stretch

out into a long marching line.

The Bethanv*, Guards was one of the last companics; so that the troops who began the march first

may have gone forward twenty-five miles before the

Bethany Guards had moved two hundred yards.

To the unpractised eye of the recruit, the whole

camp presented an immense spectacle of confusion--

confusion of sounds, confusion of movements. The

beating of drums, the shrill cry of the fife, the loud

[184]

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT
tones of command, the gallop of horses, the rattle and roar of the artillery and wagons, the march of the va rious bodies of troops taking positions and changing them--infantry, cavalry, artillery, as far as eye could see. It was a grand sight,
The Bethany Guards marched and halted, marched and halted, as the straightening process went on until it was dark. They were then not exceeding two hundred yards from where they started. The night was cloudy and cold; but there was no bivouac, no camp-fire, no sleep. March and halt, march and halt; so it was all night long.
When morning broke, the Bethany Guards were about a mile from where they started, but the head of the army may have been forty miles from the old camp. By this time the apparent confusion was all gone; the movement forward became more continu ous, and the halts were few. But at noon a snow storm set in; and, while the flakes came down thick and fast, the troops marched all that afternoon, laughing and yelling as though they were off on a frolic.
Our volunteers happened to be halted for the night near an old raw-mill where a good deal of plank was on the yard. They built a snug shelter from the storm; and while one went for water, another built the fire, and another got out the cooking utensils from the wagon. The camp-kettle was swung, the bake-oven wiped out and placed over the coals, the
[185]

BETHANY

frying-pan treated to its layer of sliced meat. With

his large tin cup each soldier made his own coffee,

out of hot water from the kettle and parched meal

from the haversack. From the fried meat oozed the

white grease into which water was poured, and into

the liberal mixture of grease and water were stirred

broken bits of crackers. Cooked in the oven or

frying-pan, this mixture made a very appetizing

toast.

The supper was soon finished, and the worn-out

men lay down to sleep.

During the night the weather changed; it grew

warmer, and began raining. Reveille sounded early

next morning, and after roll call and a breakfast,

which was a repetition of supper, the march was re

sumed. Through mud and slush, sometimes knee-

deep, the men made a march of some twenty-five or

thirtv miles. Manv could not stand it; thev fell out

*/

V

/

*/

of the line from exhaustion. When camp was struck

that, night about half the company were stragglers.

But the fires had not been lit a great while before the

missing men began to blunder forward and fall on

the ground near the fire, utterly done up. Luckily,

some of the company had got two gallons of apple

brandy from the baggage-wagons, and this timely

stimulant improved the situation in a manner which

would have staggered a teetotaler. The ground was

wet; it was still raining, and the soldier who could

find a brush-heap for a bed, while he covered himself

[ 186 J

ONCE MORETO THE FRONT

with his oilcloth blanket, was fortunate. For once,

they were too tired to cook supper.

How much of this they could have stood is uncer

tain ; they were now at Louisa Court House, and were

x

/

7

put in charge of a lot of artillery ammunition on its

way, by rail, to Richmond. So they marched no

more that time, but rode on the cars, to their com

plete satisfaction. At Hamilton Crossing, some

twenty miles from Richmond, the train had to wait

two hours for a connection. Our soldiers had had f
such a rough time, and had so keenly relished that

small supply of apple brandy, that they naturally

thirsted for more. So, as soon as they got to

Hamilton they began to forage around, hunting

for something to drink. They found a grocery,

filled their canteens with apple-jack, and began to

imbibe joyously.

ISTow the captain of the company was one of the

best old fellows that ever lived. He loved the Lord,

and wanted evervbodv else to love Him. If he had

C

f

had his way, every battle would have been opened

with prayer--as, indeed, is practically done among

all trulvt/ civilized nations--and as to sermons 'there was no man who had a more beautiful confidence in

the benign efficacy of sermons than this good old

captain had.

After he had been waiting half an hour at Hamil

ton Crossing, the captain suddenly smote himself

upon the thigh, as who should say:

[187]

BETHANY
" Why did I not think of that before ? " But it was too late. By the time he assembled the men it was plain, even to the captain, that the apple-jack had got too much the start. The " boys " were tipsy, not noisy, not insulting, not irreverent, but just funny. Hymns, sermons, prayers, under the circumstances, were not to be thought of, and the good captain had to abandon his idea. It's a wonder the train was not blown up on its way to Richmond, for many of the men sat upon the ammunition boxes of powder and ball, struck matches and smoked. When they got to Richmond they tumbled off the cars and broke away from all discipline. Tt was their dutvt/ to unload the ammunition and stow it awavv ,* but they had not the faintest idea of doing so. Toorribs Cullars sang out: " Cap'n, get a lot of niggers to unload all that stuff! Come on, boys, let's take in the town! " And off thev went!
c.
The captain was almost beside himself, and the way in which he charged around, commanding, plead ing, threatening, and promising was ludicrous. Good old fellow he was, and he did his best to keep the company from disgracing itself. lie would run to a squad of his men, halt it sternly, and march it back to the train, post it in position, ordering it to remain there while he went back to arrest other recre ants. Away he would go, to overtake another squad,
[188]

ONCE MORE TO THE FHONT

arrest it and bring it to the cars: and, lo and behold!

by the time his second batch was captured his first

batch had run away. In despair, the old man had to

give it up. The company scattered over the city, and

the captain went into camp with a mere handful of

Puritans, who did not drink, did not gamble, did

not--well, the handful who are virtuous under the

most tempting circumstances. It was only after a

full night and day of license that the recreants strag

gled into camp, and resumed the duties of soldiers.

Richmond was a bustling city at this time, noisy

with the coming and going of couriers, the tramp of

marching troops, and the boom of cannon in artillery

practice. It was known that McClellan was advan

cing up the Peninsula, that the Confederates were

falling back before him, and that in a short while

the invasion would come within sight of Richmond.

Hence, there was great uneasiness felt throughout the

city; and every energy was being exerted to prepare

for the battles which would soon be fought.

The soldiers enjoyed a good deal of liberty, and

they had curiosity enough to want to see all the sights

in Richmond.

The building wherein the Confederate Congress

was holding its sessions naturally attracted manv vis-



t-

i.'

itors. A Georgian, sitting in the gallery of the

Senate, felt an especial interest in such an assembly

when he saw " Alec" Stephens in the President's

chair. On the floor of the hall he would often see

[189]

BETHANY

Bob Toombs and Ben Hill. It might have happened

that he would bo lucky enough to' witness a passage-

at-arms between Ben Hill and the great William L.

Yaneey, for they were constantly pitted against each

other. Ben Hill being the champion of the adminis

tration and -Yaneey the leader of the opposition, it

was a common thin:: for these two to make the fur flv.

*-

V

Yaneey saw, or believed he saw, that Jeff Davis's ad

ministration was tending^, toward the same undemocratic methods and measures which had caused Ala

bama to leave the Union. It mav be that the habit c-
of denouncing systems is a habit that grows upon the

denouncer, until he is not happy unless he is denounc

ing something. On the other hand, it may be that

Yaneey was right, was consistent, was a persevering

patriot who realized that all human government does

need watching: and who was sincerely solicitous that

our new government should begin right, and stay

right. It was understood that Mr. Stephens was also

dissatisfied with the Davis methods, and was taking

mighty little interest in public affairs. Most of his

time was spent in visiting the sick and the wounded.

Lifelong suffering had given him a boundless pity

for all who were on beds of pain, and he was an angel

of mercy to many a poor fellow in the Richmond

hospitals.

It was no unusual thing to see President Davis

on horseback about the streets, riding to the camps

and back. He was a thin, sharp-faced man, of erect

[ 190 ]

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT
carriage, and set face, and precise, formal ways. Thorp was no especial magnetism in his manner, lie stood for the cause, typified the embattled South, represented us all in the highest office. Therefore, as he rode out among the military men, clad in gray, and superbly mounted--presenting altogether a strik ing, martial figure--he was always welcomed with cheers.
In the camp near Richmond, drilling was the reg ular order. Raw materials were fashioned into ex pert soldiers as fast as possible; and our recruits found all the hard,' tedious work thev/ wanted. ISTevertheless, there was much idle time to be devoted to games of amusement, to letter-writing, to reading, to card-playing.
The liveliest event of each day was the arrival of the mail-carrier. As soon as he was espied on the outskirts of the camp, the homesick men would make a break for him; and he would soon be surrounded by eager, clamorous soldiers dying for a letter from home. Sometimes the mail-boy would be almost smothered in the crush. Men on the outside of the group trying to push in, those on the inside trying to get out so that they could read their letters--there would be a scuffle before the mob could untangle itself.
One day a soldier from Xorth Carolina wedged his way into the crowd, grabbed a letter, and broke through the ring to the outside, with something which suggested unusual temper and determination.
[ 191 ]

fi T H A N Y

Tearing open the soiled envelope, he began to wrestle

with the scrawling lines, traced with pale ink on

coarse paper, torn from an old account-book. As

he read his excitement increased, and his manner

soon attracted notice.

" What's the matter, Bill ? Hope nothings wrong

at home," said one of his comrades.

The soldier with the letter in his hand took his

questioner by the arm, walking him to one side, and

muttered:

" I don't want to talk before evervt. bodv*. ,f but

d------d if I ain't almos' crazv. This is the third c

time

Nancv *

has

wrote

to

me

that

she's

about

to

starve

to death. She's too weak to work, and the child'en's

too little to do anything, and she wants me to come

home."

" Well, can't you git a furlough ?" asked his

-friend.

" Tried and couldn't. I ain't got no influence. I'm

po* white trash, and I've got ter stick here in this

d------d camp while my wife's hungry and my

child'en's cryin' fer bread."

" Where's yer neighbors, Bill ? Ain't yer got no

near neighbors in North Caliny able and willin' to

take keer o' yer fam'ly ? "

Fiercely clenching his fist, he raised his hand,

shook his fist and letter violently: . " Neighbors ? D------n it all! There's where the

hell of it is! When all this thing fust started, and

[192]

ONCE MORE- TO THE FRONT
ever'body Yv'ent wil', and ever'bodj was singin' warsongs and a-whoopin' and a-hollerin' fer Dixie and Bonnic Blue Flag, ev'ry d------n spouter who made speeches told us that if we'd jine the army an' hurry ter the front the folks at home would take keer our wives and children ! Xow read that letter! "
The comrade did so, and handed it back without a word. There was nothing to be said. The poor, frail wife,/ awa*v> off in some backwoods settlement in Xorth Carolina, either was, or thought she was, neglected by her neighbors, forgotten by those who had encouraged her husband to enlist. With the nat ural impulse of lonely wife and helpless mother, she begged her husband to come home. She probably knew of other soldiers who had come home on fur loughs, and she thought her husband could get one, too. But Richmond was now in danger, threatened by McClellan's army of 150,000 men; and furloughs could not be had, excepting in.extreme cases.
Xext morning at roll-call, the Xorth Carolina man was missing.

Measles broke out in the camps, and the hospitals

were crowded. Our friend Cullars was one of those

sent in to be doctored, and came back so soon that he

was questioned by his comrades.

" I had enough of it," explained Cullars. " The

doctors and the nurses showed less feelin' for the

sick soldiers than one of our fanners would show a

1-4

[ 193 ]

BETHANY
sick mule; and I shouldered myself and marched out"
It was now the middle of May, and McClellan was close upon the Confederate capital.
The Army of Xorthern Virginia was made ready for a general engagement. Bodies of troops were seen in motion, couriers dashed back and forth, guns boomed in the distance.
At last our company heard the bugler sound the assembly call to arms: the old captain is ordered to the front! A yell of enthusiasm greets the news. Tents are struck, knapsacks packed, the line of march formed,' and in two hours our recruits *g-- et their first view of Yankees in battle arravt . Theyt- are on the other side of the Chickahominy. It is night, and thousands of camp-fires glare as far as one can see. The thunderous roll of drums, tire strains of brass bands resounding far and near, proclaimed the pres ence of a mighty host.
On our side also the camp-fires glowed, the drums beat, the bands played--challenge given, challenge accepted; host to host, a fight to the death.
The Bethany Guards did not sleep any too much that night. It was a time for solemn thoughts. There was no card-playing, no festive seven-up or poker that night: the soldier who had the deck took it out of his pocket and threw the cards away. There was much melancholv talk about the folks at home. There
e-
was more or less dread of what would happen on the

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT

morrow. Xot Infrequently some soldier would say,

" Boys, I'm going to be killed to-morrow," and he

would make what final dispositions he could for that

dread event, including last messages for loved ones.

Had their good old captain come around and sug

gested something devotional, he would have met with

a greater degree of success than had crowned his ef

forts that day at Hamilton Crossing.

With the break of day the battle began. The roar

of

musketry \j

was

terrific,?

and

the

cannons

boomed.7

boomed, boomed, as the lines on our side rushed to

the attack. As the Bethany Guards pressed onward

they passed dead men, and mangled men screaming

in their agony. Some of the wounded, covered with

blood, were able to walk to the rear: others were

carried bv on litters: others still were so torn, so

Is

S

evidently in the throes of death, that they could not

be moved. And as the eye caught, these ghastly de

tails, and then looked far ahead, there was seen the

firing-line, and men in it falling, falling, falling,

everywhere. It was awful! \j The captain of the Bethany Guards was a cool

hand, and the company was handled all right. It

did its duty; but had not been sent into the thick of

the fight.

When darkness put an end to the carnage, the

Yankees had been, driven backward; and our com

pany pitched camp where the battle had raged--sat

down to eat among the dead and the dying; lay down

[ 195 1

BETHANY

to sleep amid groans, and white faces which stared

upward to the stars with fixed, staring, unseeing

ev/ es! Some of the soldiers who had been certain they

would he killed, had been killed ; others who had been

equally certain, had not been hit. And there were

others who, on the night before the battle, had been

the gayest, least apprehensive, were out there on the

field, shot to pieces.

Presentiments are like dreams; thevt, challeng<--.e attention and defy explanation; they dare you to be

indifferent, and thev mock YOU when YOU trust them.

*

t

t

*

The Battle of Seven Pines, fought almost at the

gates of Richmond, was ended; both sides claimed

the victor}*; General Johnston was wounded; Gen

eral Lee was in command.

Then Stonewall Jackson shot up into sudden,

world-wide fame because of his Valley Campaign;

and Stuart with his brilliant horsemen made his

Ride around McClellan. Lee, who in the petty West

Virginia operations had shown the awkwardness of

a Hercules at the distaff, now rose to the height of

his great opportunity; and, having a gigantic task,

handled it like a giant.

Gathering up all his strength--Jackson, Long-

street, the Hills and Stuart--he fell upon the Union

host and hurled it back.

Then we lost our heads, I fear, and began that

series of headlong attacks upon the retiring Federals

[ 196 1

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT
which caused us such immense loss. McClellan was not demoralized: his force was well in hand: when ever he stopped he intrenched: and whenever he hit back at us we got hurt. At Mechanicsville he repulsed us, though on the next day we doubleteamed on one section of his army as it was crossing the Chickahominy, and would have destroyed it had daylight lasted a little longer.
Day after day, the army advanced and fought, as McClellan withdrew, fighting at Savage Station, Frazer's Farm, and in White Oak Swamp. The abandoned fields were littered with the spoil of war-- guns, knapsacks, blankets, clothing and provisions. Huge was the joy of the Confederates when they captured a barrel of coffee--sure enough coffee-- already ground and sugared! Xothing to do but measure a tablespoonful into the tin cup, add water, boil, and drink.
Stretched under a new tent, found on the field, drinking hot coffee, and eating the very best food the Xorth could supply, our recruits enjoyed themselves in spite of the horrors and the dangers which sur rounded them--so soon does the soldier get used to bloodshed.
" I saw Jeff Davis to-day," said Cullars, as he sipped his second cup of sugared coffee.
" What makes 3-011 think so ? " some one asked. " General Lee come ridin' up not far from where I was, and said to a courier, ( Gallop to that house
[197]

BETHANY
yonder and tell the President that the enemy are about to open a battery upon it/ and off galloped the courier. General Lee set there on his horse, cool as a cucumber, his felt hat sorter pulled down to shade his face--as fine a figure of a soldier as I ever saw. Prettv soon I saw some fellows come breakin' out o'
*s
that house, gallopin' to'ards us as fast as they could spur, and they had hardly started before the Yankee battery opened on that house. President Davis and General Magruder was together, and when they got up to where General Lee was they all sorter laughed as they looked back and saw the shells scatterin' that
house." "What sort o' lookin' man is Jeff Davis? " asked
Ramsev. c, " Well, sir, he looks like a man whose victuals
didn't do him no good. He ain't got no flesh and no color. He looks lean, scrawny, hollow-faced, and he's thin chested, longish and narrer. He sets a horse well enough, and his eyes are full of fire, and when he speaks it's a manly voice you hear, but, Lord! by the side of General Lee he don't show off at all."
" And there are not many men in this world who would/' remarked Fnele Ralph.
" Xow fyou're talkin'*/' said Cullars. " As for looks, there's none o' them can hold a candle to Gen eral Lee, 'ceptin' Bob Toombs, and that cavalry feller, Jeb Stuart,"
" Ever seen Joe Johnston ? " inquired Cullars,
[ 198 ]

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT
sampling Northern provisions freely. He directed his question to Uncle Ralph.
" Yes, I was at Manassas--saw him plain enough, before and after. He's a fine lookin' man, too, but not like Lee. He's smaller every way, and dried up, stiff, and stern looking. His talk's as curt as a whip. But the soldiers loved him. He's a cautious general."
" Wish he hadn't been so d------d cautious after Manassas," blurted Cullars.
" Why ? " asked Uncle Ralph sharply. " Because if he had had half of Jackson's push and nerve, he'd have gone into Washington, and ended the war. Old Stonewall said he could have done it with ten thousand men. The Yankees were all scattered and demoralized. There was nothin' to stop' our boys from takin' Washington." " All right, Cullars, that may be so," answered Uncle Ralph, " but how could we have held Wash ington after we took it ? " " Easy enough," hotly rejoined Cullars. " S'pose we'd gone in and fortified; wasn't it as easy for our side to rush reinforcements to us as it would have been for their side to get help to them ?" " And besides," remarked Ramsey, " had Johnston taken Washington, which is a Southern city, and held to it with all his strength, reinforcements would have poured in, not from the seceded States only, but from Maryland: and the doubtful border States would have joined us."
[1991

BETHANY
" Well," said Ralph, " it's not fair to unload all the blame on Johnston, for Beauregard was there, too, and so was Jeff Davis. Anyhow, there's no use grieving over spilt milk; and we might as well turn in."
McClellan, still retiring, took up a tremendously strong position at Malvern Hill, -overlooking James River--the same place occupied by Lafayette just previous to the siege of Cornwallis in Yorktown. Xo troops in the world ever had a better position to repulse an assault than McClellan had selected and fortified. To approach him, the Confederates must come across a wide wheat-field where the cannon on the heights had fairest play. To send men into that open plain, to march over it, and to ascend to the assault of those bristling works on the hill seemed madness. Oh,/ that bloodv(/ Ju ly/ da,v!
For half a mile the doomed men of the South had to march across the wheat-field, devoured by as deadly a hail of balls as ever rained from well-planted batteries.
The Bethany Guards were first drawn up in the ravine. From here they charged into the open, on through the level ground, on up the hill, to the very muzzle of the guns. Yankee cannoneers draw back their guns, and another line of infantry rises up. That ia also driven, and the guns are drawn back again. The noise is deafening, the confusion terri ble, the rage of battle consuming. Men load and
[200]

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT
fire, not able to distinguish the report of their own guns. The flash,. the roar, the shout, the rushes of desperate men, the plunging here and there of horses --it was frightful.
" The colors are down! Where's the color-guard ? " Toombs Cullars had hardly shouted the words be-
c
fore Uncle Ralph had darted forward with the speed of a deer--in a moment he was waving the flag, high over his head, his hat gone, his face blazing with excitement. The colors advanced; the men rushed on.
Another line of bluecoats rose up, a quick volley was fired, and Uncle Ralph reeled. He was hit in the arm. Ramsey seized the standard, and Ralph was helped to the rear by Toombs Cullars.
As they painfully and slowly made their way, stumbling among the dying and the dead, they passed a large, tall, red-faced man, who was holding to a limb.
" Where are you going ?" he called out, roughly. Cullars pointed to Ralph's dangling arm. " That man's got to go back! " shouted the other, who was dressed in general's uniform, and attended by several staff-officers. Cullars turned to go back, but when he let go of Uncle Ralph, the latter fell. Without another word, or a moment's hesitation, Cullars took hold of Ralph again, and helped him off the field. The general was left hanging on to his limb. It was Magruder--drunk as a lord.
[201 ]

BETHANY
In the Cobb's Legion Hospital, a little one-room shanty, Uncle Ralph was lucky enough to find a cot. The surgeons were busy as bees. The ghastly knives and saws--they were making a butcher pen affair of it. As legs and arms were cut off, they were tossed under the table, till the pile reached the under side of it. What agonies! What pitiful groans and moans! What screams!
That night it rained. The little shanty could only accommodate a few. Ambulance service was bad; and many a poor fellow who had never known sick ness or pain, save amid comforts and the tender nursing of loved ones, lay on the soaked ground all night, his wounds undressed, dying of sheer neglect.
Xext morning General Magruder sought General Lee, and asked permission to renew the assault.
" Don't do it, General. You might hurt some of my men who are up there reconnoitering."
McClellan had abandoned the hill during the night,, and was safe--under the protection of his gun boats on the James.
McClellan had " changed his base "; there was no further fighting, and the Bethany Guards were marched back to Richmond.
One day the captain came around, looking very grave, and he said, " Boys, we have a bad job on hand this morning. Get ready for duty."
[202 ]

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT
" What is it, Captain ? " " There is a deserter to be shot" A shock, a thrill of pain and aversion ran through the whole company. In a short while a detail drove a stake into the ground until about three feet of it was left above the surface. Then the soldiers drew lots from a hat held by an officer--the men who were to shoot the deserter were being chosen. Another squad of soldiers loaded twelve guns, six with powder and ball, six with powder only. A black coffin was brought and put down, off to one side. There was an order issued, and the guard brought forward the condemned--he whom the court-martial had tried, and had condemned to be shot. 'It was the man from ]STorth Carolina! He had gone home to provide for his wife and children, had been arrested there by the authorities, and had been brought back. And his wife and two little girls were here to see him die ! " Great God! I can't stand this! " muttered Toombs Cullars. " Hush! " said the old captain sternly. The doomed man's head was up, his bearing manly. There wasn't a drop of coward blood in him. And his voice rang clear and true: " Boys, I didn't mean to desert. I meant to come
[203 J

BETHANY
back. I couldn't bear to let my wife and little girls starve! "
How the breasts of the soldiers heaved, how their throats did choke!
The old captain's face was white, very white. . The poor stricken wife moaned and wept: the little girls clung to her skirts.
" Good-by, Xancy," and he hugged his wife. " Good-b*v ,* Susie! " and he lifted his oldest child and kissed her, and sat her down.
" Good-by,, Dora!" and he kissed his baby girl--kissed her twice as he held her aloft in his arms.
" Xow I'm ready! " and he faced the guns. His twelve comrades stood twenty steps away, no man of the twelve knowing whether his gun carried ball, or powder only. They made the condemned man kneel at the stake, tied his hands behind him and on the other side of the stake;y thevv lashed him securelVv to the stake so that he could not move, and they offered to put a bandage over his evi>' es. " Xo. Fm not afraid. I ain't done nothin' I'm ashamed of. I didn't desert." That was his last word. " Ready! Aim! Fire!" The woman screamed, covering her face and turn ing it away, and the little girls huddled and hid in her arms: the Xorth Carolinian's head dropped on
[ 304. ]

ONCE MORE TO THE FRONT
his breast--the bullets had riddled him, through and through.
That night a pall hung over the camp. Nothing else was talked of but the execution. There was great sympathy for the unfortunate man, and much was said about the severity of military discipline.
" War is hell! " said Cullars with emphasis. " So is life anywhere else, if you get under the wheels/' remarked a comrade. " The loser pays. I'm sorry for the dead man, but he took his risk. He knew what the law was." " But then think of the appeals made to him by his wife," said Cullars. Here Dolph Ramsey intervened. " Boys, let's look at the thing right We are all engaged in a holy cause. We must save the South. To do that the army is needed. How can you keep an army to gether if you let every fellow go home when he wants to ? In order to keep him at the post of duty even after he gets tired and wants to quit, you must make severe rules and enforce them. " Now this man ought not to have gone home with out a furlough. His wife had only to make her wants known, had only to pick up her children and walk to the nearest farm-house or country town in North Carolina and make her condition known, to have got food, shelter and protection. " Who ever heard of anybody, white or black, starving to death in any Southern State ?"
[305]

BETHANY

" That's so," assented Cullars. " jSTobody ever

did. And that poor man's wife wouldn't 'a' done it

either. Without intendin' it, she egged on her hus-

f

band to his death! "

.1

" That's about the fact," rejoined Ramsey, and

!

no more was said.

;

[206 J

CHAPTER V
A NEW PASTOR
OXE Sunday in the Spring of 1862, our old pastor raflior startled his congregation by " putting up " to preach the morning sermon a young man whom few of tho?e present knew.
As lie rose from the sofa back of the pulpit, and came forward to the desk where the Bible and Hyrnnbi >ok lay, there was a general " straightening up " in the congregation and a hush of expectant interest.
Inasmuch as I shall have a good deal to say about this minister of the gospel, let me describe him. He was not above the medium height; was very stout, and had small., thick hands which had never known manual labor. He had bright, brown eyes; a high, white forehead; and a strong chin. His mouth was large, the expression genially kind; but it carried al-o the impression that its owner had his share of all the wholesome, natural appetites. When I came to know him intimatelv*/ ./ his character seemed to me like an open book. His heart was the home of gen erous impulse; yet the small eye, which suggested
[307 ]

BETHANY
shrewdness, told a true tale. He had ever a sensible instinct for. the safe side. His high forehead prom ised intellect, and he had it; and the mouth, which suggested animal enjoyment, was not belied. The bulging crease or dewlap under his eves made one think of that same peculiarity in Toombs, and in every other great natural orator.
If you were so fortunate as to hear this young min ister, when fie was at his best, it would at once occur to yon that he might be a power in the land, if he would earnestly give his mind to that purpose. But when you studied his walk, lumbering, slow and roll ing ; when you noted how he detested all bodily exer tion ; when you noticed that he never mounted a horse or took any sort of regular exercise, you said to yourself: " He will never be willing to pay the cruelly exorbitant price which Fame exacts at the door."
His father had stood well in the Baptist ministry; and he had sent Euel, the favorite son, to the college which Jesse Mercer had established at Penfield. Euel had hardlv/ been consulted at all. His father had willed it: and he was a man whom children dared not resist. Not that Ruel had wished it otherwise: on the contrary, he liked the plan. He had tried his wits in schoolboy debating societies, had been highly pleased with the results, and felt a natural inclina tion to indulge his love of public speaking. Such being the case, what field was more congenial than
[ 208 ]

A NEW PASTOR

the ministry ? In this matter-of-fact manner, Euel

had gone to Penfield, and the great Doctor Mell had

made a preacher out of him.

The sermon which Ruel delivered on this, his first

trial at Bethany, was a success. It was well con

ceived, well arranged, well expressed, well delivered.

It was sound in the doctrine,-conformable to good

taste, and saturated with good feeling. .

When the young minister closed, there was an ap

proving buzz throughout the audience. In our

hearts, we Baptists felt good. Ministerially, we had

been a trifle weak in Bethany; and the Methodists

had rather crowed over us. Doctrinal sermons had

been preached at us; and our raw spots--close-

cnmiminion and infant baptism, particularly--had

been rudely rubbed. Now, however, things would be

different. The Methodists would no longer have

everything their own way. If old Brother Selvidge,

or Elder Rush, flung at us Baptists any more flouts

about doctrinal points, we now had a man who could

talk back, and who could rub their raw spots a

bit. Oh, yes!--things would be different from now

out.

Consequently, when Ruel Wade came down from

the pulpit steps, at the close of the services, he was

surrounded. Everybody wanted to grip his hand,

and exchange a word. Older people, who had heard

his father when in his prime, proudly told Ruel that

he was " a chip off the old block." Those who were

15

[ 209 ]

BETHANY

not personally acquainted with him came up to be

introduced.

Squire Roberts, who dearly loved a strict Bap

tist,7 insisted that the minister should ^so home with him to dinner, and Ruel could not decline. In the

old-fashioned, mckaway carriage, the young preacher

was driven, at a leisurely gait, to the Roberts home--

the Squire himself being the -driver of the two

mules which drew the vehicle.

The Squire was not a rich man, but he was in

srood circumstances. He owned a moderatelv fruit-

C

V

ful farm of four'-hundred acres, had a bunch of

slaves, and managed to get out of life about all that

there is in it. He was eminently respectable; a

stalwart Baptist; and a sound Democrat. Otherwise,

he was not a very positive character. Three square

meals a day, however, he made a point of; and a

Sunday dinner without potato pudding would have

appeared to him a tame function. Apple dumpling

was understood in the household to be a permissible

substitute, but one or other of these had to come.

Otherwise, there would be rrratterings, naggings, con

trariness and sulks.

The Squire must have been related, in some de

gree, to that other citizen of Georgia whose specialty

was chicken pie; and who entailed his fad on help

less posterity by building a hotel at Smithville, and

so fixing the lease or the title in such a way that

as long as the hotel remains in existence chicken

E 210 1

A NW PASTOR

pie must be placed on the dinner table every day,

the rear round. tf

Kb matter how often the house

changes hands, no matter what the individual taste

of the lessee or manager may be, the chicken pie con

dition cannot be shirked. I have myself often

stopped for dinner at Smithville, for it is a railroad

junction and eating-place, and I have seen the

chicken pie ordinance in actual operation. At a

hazard, I would say that the weariness of the land

lord is only exceeded by the fatigue of the boarders

in bearing up under the galling slavery of this end

less chain of chicken pies.

The eloquence witJi which Ruel had preached in the morning had not impaired his appetite. His en joyment of a good dinner was evident the moment he took his seat at the table. He ate without finickv discrimination. He ate like one who had con-
L-
fidence in the cook. He was not nervously and squeamishly spying around to see whether there were things in the dishes which had no business there. He fed himself confidently, generously, like a man in whom a splendid vitality unblushingly exacts ade quate provision.
When the 'potato pudding stage of the dinner was reached, he consumed his share with relish--indeed, it was good pudding!--and completely won the heart of host and hostess by asking:
" May I have just another bit of the pudding ? " [ 211 1

BETHANY

The pleasure which shone through the Squire's

specs was good to see, and Mrs. Roberts looked

flattered.

After dinner came an adjournment to the parlor,

where Xellie played some sacred music on the piano,

the preacher's untrained but not unpleasant voice

accompanying her songs.

Before long the Squire yearned for his pipe and

his after-dinner nap; and he excused himself.

Household matters soon called Mrs. Roberts from the

room also. The preacher and the maiden were left

together in the parlor.

Will you be patient while I describe this room ?

It was large, with high ceilings, four windows,

an am1 DA. le fire-pi lace,/ and anty/ number of doors. Every room on the first floor seemed to open into this

and it had one large door opening on the front porch.

The walls were papered in a quiet, homely, neutral

tint; there was no carpet on the floor, but in the fire

place was a massive pair of brass andirons, with

brass fender; and upon the walls were four pictures

which,* to mfv uneducated, evv e,* seemed beautiful--ex-

tremelv beautiful. I think vet that thev were beau-

C*

.

.

tiful,/ but that matv> be on account of the associations.f

for they were a part and parcel of the by-gone life

which was very dear to me; and when I gaze upon

the pictures now, that long-passed time rises once

more, and the old familiar faces smile upon me as

they used to do. There was a centre-table of mahog-

[2121

A NEW PASTOR

any, with claw-feet: upon this table stood a few books

of the " Friendship's offering" kind; and a silver

water pitcher, which rested upon a tray and was

flanked by silver drinking cups.

Upon another table, shoved back against the wall,

was the most beautiful collection of sea-shells I ever

saw; and two large vases in which were held gor

geous masses of native swamp-ferns, fallow-field

grasses and broom, overtopped by a few stalks of

native wild-oat and goldenrod. Gathered in Sep

tember and October, these ferns and grasses had the

mellow richness of color that is the glory of Indian

Summer.

On the right-hand side of the fire-place stood the

familiar, ante-bellum book-case of mahogany, with

glass doors, and a chest of drawers beneath the

book-shelves. In this handsome piece of furniture

was kept what Squire Roberts complacently called

his library. Indeed, it was the best and largest

collection of books to be seen anvwhere for miles c
around. Counting the volumes which had been

loaned out to honorable people, and which the

Squire yet hoped might some day be returned,

the librarv consisted of one hundred and twentv-

/

/

five volumes.

Xellie and the preacher could not spend the

whole afternoon in singing; in fact, the old people

had not been gone many minutes before Huel's

memory failed to suggest another hymn; and Nellie

[313]

BETHANY
in turning the leaves was not able to find anything of especial interest. So they began to talk. I wonder if there ever was a warm-blooded young man of twenty-two who, being alone with a pretty girl, did not feel moved to conversation.
Ruel's glance had rested upon the book-case more than once, when Xellie, reading his thought, opened the glass doors. He came to her side, and began to run his eye over the volumes. Reaching out his hand, Ruel took " Paradise Lost" .and opened it.
" You have read this ? " he asked. " Yes; that is, part of it. To read it through con tinuously, I have found impossible." He smiled and said: " Your honest*v/ commands respect. Few people really read the book. It is con sidered good form to be familiar with l Paradise Lost,' but few enjoy if. Some day the critics will gather courage to say that it contains much poor stuff." " For instance ? " ".Well, take Milton's description of the battle in the heavens between the hosts of Lucifer and the hosts of the Lord; could anything be more clumsy and le?s impressive \ He represents Jehovah as using cannon a<T^rain?t the fallen ang~els. L- there anv*- whero in literature a more repulsive picture than that which makes God an artillery officer who uses cannon to defeat immortal spirits \ " She smiled slightly and answered: " It does seem
[ 214 ] -

ANEW PASTOR
that, if all the lightnings and all the other dread powers of Omnipotence were incapable of destroying Satan, mere cannon would fail."
u Furthermore," continued the preacher, " Milton has stolen a ^srreat deal of his thunder from a Dutch epic called ' Lucifer/* This plagiarism will be duly exposed one of these days."
He replaced the book, and took down, another. 11 Poor Burns! Miss Kellie, have you ever read his epistles to Davy, and his lines on the field mouse ?" " Often. But the sweetest words he ever wrote were ' To Marvt,' in Heaven.' " " You think so ? Well, I'm not so sure of that. But of this I am certain, you might burn the Decla ration of Independence and forget Magna Cliarta, and still find the creed of all manlv men in Burns's
/
' A man's a man for a' that'! " He then told her the story connected with the poem
--that Burns had been invited to some grand house in Edinburgh, where he was expected to furnish en tertainment for the high-born guests; that he had been taken to the kitchen, where he was made to wait till the grandees had dined; that he was then sent for to amuse the company. Instead, he strode into the room defiantly, recited his famous poem, and flung out at the door, maddened at the humiliation put upon him.
She listened with rapt attention, and when the [ 215 ] .

BETHANY
story was done, there was a tear in her eye, and her bosom heaved with emotion.
The young preacher continued: " It saddens me when I think of Burns. The last glimpse the outside world gets of him is on that day in Dumfries when the respectable people of the neighborhood were assembling to some social function to which Burns had not been invited, and he slouched along on the opposite side of the way, alone, shunned, shrinking off to his squalid hut." " Whtv> was he not invited \" she asked. " Because he had become, as local respectability assumed, too disreputable. He was a drunkard, you know, and a--that is, he was almost an outcast.'' " And now all Scotland loves his name; and all the world loves his poems," she said. " It seems most cruel." " Such is life," the preacher answered. " The world is full of just such inequalities, inequities, cruel misfortune. We had in this countrv an in-
t
stance somewhat similar. Edgar Poe wore his life out writing pooms and stories which few admired, and which brought him no reward. ]STow that he is dead, we are beginning to realize that he was a genius --perhaps the most original and profound America has produced."
" He also was intemperate, was he not ?" she asked.
" Occasionally so. The vast amount of work he
[316]

ANEWPASTOR
did in so short a time, and the exquisitely careful finish apparent in most of this work, will always be, to considerate thinkers, the highest, best proof that Poe's drunkenness amounted to little more than an occasional spree."
" It is a pity to think that he died, just as his fortunes seemed to be brightening. He was almost like a wav*. -worn traveler who falls exhausted when home and loved ones are in sight."
She said this with much feeling; and the look which they exchanged was that of two people who felt that they understood each other. Few delights are purer than that which we discover in the con genial mind.
" Yes," he resumed, " had Edgar Poe been strong enough to resist that gang of ward-heelers who de bauched him and dragged him all over the city re peating his vote----or in other words, had he stopped in Baltimore on any other day than the day of the election, he might not have been picked up from the gutter, unconscious and dying."
She sighed and her lips trembled: Ruel's manner was so earnest that the imagination, with little ef fort, could reproduce that frightful tragedy.
" < The Raven ' is considered his masterpiece, is it not ? " she asked, to break the silence.
" Yes, and, perhaps it is. But the explanation which Poe1 himself wrote, analyzing and dissecting the poem, and describing how he came to compose it,
[2171

BETHANY

destrovi/ ed its charm to me. I.t was so cold-blooded,' mechanical, prosaic. ' Who wants an orator to expose

the process by which he gets his speech together ?

Who wants the daintily attired beauty to publish the

mysteries of the toilet ? "

This blunt remark brought a tinge of scarlet to

the cheek of the girl, and she hastily rejoined:

" It is true that ' The Raven ' exerts a weird fasci

nation over all who read it, but I like better that

little poem of Poe, entitled ' For Annie.' "

" So do I! So do I! " he exclaimed eagerly.

" * The Raven' suggests labored construction, a reso

lute and premeditated purpose to be sad and despair

ing. In the lines ' For Annie/ there is no such for

mality or apparent effort. The flow of the verse is

like the running of water; and the marvelous hand

ling of the words, the profound melancholy they

breathe, paints true to life what must have been the

broken heart of the husband, who was so poor that

he had to keep the freezing cold from his dying wife

by spreading his overcoat upon the bed! "

It was good to look upon his manly face as he

said this.

,

Evidently his heart was in the right place; and

whoever this man should love might feel sure of

riches.

Then he read to her that poem of the ill-starred

genius which is, perhaps, the most suggestive he ever

wrote, " Eldorado." When it was finished he said,

[218] -

A NEW PASTOR

" In many ways, expression has been given to man's

yearning for the unattainable, but I do not know of

any poet who has given it better expression than Poe

has done in these lines."

" It reminds.me of the lines called ( Carcassonne,'

written bv a Frenchman," she said. But the en-

V

'

trance of Squire Roberts and his wife stopped the

talk about books, and caused the conversation to drift

to the war; and the afternoon thus wore away, until

the young preacher said good-by, and returned to

town.

As he slowly sauntered along the road, his short

walk of two miles found him unusually reflective;

and he discovered that his thoughts dwelt persistently

upon the lovely girl froni whom he had just parted.

She interested him; there was no doubt about that.

He liked her; there was no doubt about that. He

found himself saying mentally, " This is an exceed

ingly handsome girl, a lady-like girl, an intelligent girl, a warm-hearted, sympathetic girl."

To this extent, he was sure of his facts. Then

his thoughts shaped certain interrogatories, directed to his prudence and his judgment.

" What must be mvt,' future attitude toward her ? Shall I cultivate her acquaintance, or not? Shall I

accept any further invitations which carry me there ?

Shall I visit "the lady herself, and thus put myself

among her admirers ? "

To these questions he could frame no very satis-

J

BETHANY

factory answer; and the decision was adjourned to

that future in which chance and blind impulse play

havoc with go many a well-laid plan.

And what were Xellievs thoughts that night?

Oh, belle of the piney-woods, of whom are you

thinking, as you sit there in the family circle, silent,

silent, and with brooding eyes ? Are your thoughts

with the fearless soldier who even now lies upon the

bare ground in Virginia, hungry, tired, faint with

marching and fighting; and whose every thought is

with you--vou alwavs. vou only ?

/

fj

t,

SV

V

Xellie sits there in the corner,7 close b\v* the table

where the sea-shells hold forever the murmur of the

sea, and where the dead grasses treasure up in their

keeping the faded glories of summer; and Xellie is

in deep thought.

She has ever been different from other girls: she

has read; she has pondered; she has built cloud-

castles; she has dreamed dreams. The life of books

has mingled subtly \yith hers. Romance has wooed

her, not in vain. Passionate sentiment has not found

her coldly irresponsive. And never before has she

met a man, a young man, a handsome young man,

an eloquent, intellectual, and handsome young man

who could thrill her with the feeling of congenial

mental companionship, as Ruel Wade has done.

Poor Uncle Ralph!

[220]

CHAPTER VI
NELLIE AND THE PREACHER
IT was not long after that first sermon that the brilliant young minister, Ruel Wade, was called to the pastorate of the Bethany Baptist Church. -With his entrance upon his duties, commenced a new era in our local religious life. Sermons gained in weight what they lost in length. Ruel used no manuscript, not even notes; but, in every instance, his subject had been analyzed, the general line of the dis course mapped out, the strong points marshaled, and a definite stopping-place decided on. This ar rangement guarded against confusion of thought, and yet left full play to that creativeness which all orators must possess, and which often produces its greatest marvels under the impulse of sudden inspi ration--an inspiration whose going and coming are governed by laws so mysterious that the orator him self can never control them.
The congregation at the Baptist church rapidly increased in size, until the house could barely ac commodate it. This was particularly true of the first Sunday in each month, for it soon became no-
[221 ]

BETHANY

ticeable that Ruel prepared himself more carefully

and exerted himself more unreservedly on that dav

If

V

than on any other. Therefore, while his third-Sim-

day congregations were better than those drawn by

any other preacher in our part of the State, the over

flowing attendance was always upon the first-Sabbath

services.

For

his

Saturdav t,

ministrations,/

Ruel

dressed

rather carelessly, and preached rather indolently;

and he got sadly bored by conference proceedings,

in which long-winded deacons and others were prone

to air uninteresting opinions.

Whether an intellectual man can ever, under any

circumstances, feel much interest in tedious debates

over the pros and cons of mere ecclesiastical disci

pline, is a question which has the customary two

sides to it: but Ruel Wade's opinion was evident

enough to anyone who watched his face while he

presided at a humdrum conference.

" Should Brother Simons be excused for non-

attendance upon the services at the last regular

meeting ? "

The manner in which Deacon Fitts would cock

his ears, and clothe his face with the aspect reflec

tive, as Brother Simons stood forth in the midst, and

detailed at great length his reasons for his absence,

was worth seeing. Perhaps the excuse of Simons

might appear to be flimsy to Deacon Fitts, or to

Brother Ticer. If so, there would be debate--grave,

[ 223 ]

NELLIE AND THE PREACHER

decorous, interminable debate. In this discussion,

Brother Simons would .be only too ready to partici

pate. When all the elders and wise men had spoken,

Deacon Fitts would probably milk his white beard

a few moments, as though the fate of the universe *

were being weighed in the balances; and he would

then rise, not hastily, but slowly and impressively.

On such occasions I used to tremble for Simons--

dreading lest they should break him on the wheel,

as I had read of Christians doing to one another,

away back yonder in old times. In a vague way, I

wondered why Simons did not jump up, and run.

Deacon Fitts's face looked such unutterable, inquisi

torial things that there was really no way for a small

boy like me to estimate accurately the perils by

which Simons was surrounded.

" Brother Moderator!"

It was the solemn voice of Deacon Fitts. Ruel

would recognize the speaker by responding,

" Brother Fitts! " Then there would be another

painful pause, as though the Deacon were, even

yet, in some doubt as to what he should do with

Simons.

With a final meditative pull at his beard, the

Deacon would resume:

I

"Brother Moderator! I move you, sir, if I be

j]

in order, and can get a second, that we excuse Brother

Simons."

" Is there a second to the motion ?" Ruel would

[223 ]

BETHANY

inquire, according to legendary and immemorial formula.
With a voice which sounded like a hollow echo in a vault deep down under the ground, Brother Ticer would come into action :
" I second the motion." " Is there anything to be said on this motion ? "-- traditional formula again, voicing itself through Ruel. After the slightest possible pause, " If not, the chair will put the motion," announces imme morial custom; and then, after another of the slight est possible pauses--" All you who are in favor of ex cusing Brother Simons will make it known by saying 1 aye '! "

The male church-members only vote. A number

of voices are heard to sav " ave." Thev vote as the

/

V

C"

awkward squad shoots--scatteringly.

" Those who are opposed will say ' no,' " com mands the Moderator.

Ko response.

" The avves have it,' and Brother Simons is excused."

" Is there any other question before the confer ence? If not, a motion to adjourn is in order." And

Kuel might be lucky enough to side-track other cases of the same sort. His face during proceedings simi

lar to the foregoing was a study. As already stated, the average conference on Saturdays bored him sadly.

[324]

NELLIE AND THE PREACHER

If you wished to see Euel at his best, you should

have waited till the first Sunday in the month. You

would then have seen him clad in full ecclesiastical

black broadcloth--the long skirt of the coat giving

a surprising dignity to his round body. On that day,

his walk was erect and alert; his easy, lazy, rolling

gait was gone; the lofty look on his face raised it to

manly beauty; the light in the eye suggested burn

ing thoughts that were impatient for expression. He

did not stop to gossip, crack jokes, or talk common

place. His jolly laugh was never heard on his " field

day "--the first Sunday in each month. No, he did

not on such days appear till the preaching hour had

come; and then he would go directly to the pulpit,

as if avoiding anything which might disturb the con

centration of his mind, or break the spell which his

sermon, as he had conceived it, had cast over his

own soul. Ah, on such a day it was good to see Ruel

Wade, good to catch every word that fell from his

inspired lips!

Exceedingly proud we Baptists were of our young

apostle, for he soared above all common mortals like

an eagle in the air. And his temper was so genial

and sunny, his character so essentially noble, his

love of his fellow men so genuine, that we completely

lost our hearts to him; and his dominion over us

was well-nigh absolute.

Just how many fathers in Israel yearned for him

as a son-in-law; just how many calculating mothers

10

[225]

BETHANY

thought of him in the same way; just how many of

the girls " set their caps for him " cannot he told;

but I think there is no harm in saying that- one

of those mothers was Mrs. Roberts, and one of those

fathers was the old Squire.

When they pondered upon the contrast between

Ruel Wade and Ralph Horton, they had no doubts

as to which of the two- Xellie ought to accept. In the

eves of the old folks, there was no room for serious

v



7

comparison. Ralph Hortun's equals could be met in

every county in the South; whereas, a man like Ruel

Wade was not to be seen twice in a lifetime. So the

old folks, Mrs. Roberts and the Squire, had made

up their minds; and they knew what answer they

would make if the young pastor should ask of them

the hand of their daughter. Therefore, the visits

which the preacher continued to make to the Rob

erts's home were encouraged by the old people. He

fell into the habit of dining there on Sunday, at

least.twice a month; and he was often there during

the week, when he would drop in to supper and sit

till bed-time. He enjoyed music; and Xellie was

one of those rare persons who can make something

more than maddening noise out of a piano. He

loved flowers; and the large garden of the Squire

was full of old-time roses, pinks, violets^ lilies, and

pansies. He loved books; and here he found more

books than anywhere else in the community, and he

found a congenial book-lover in Xellie.

[ 226 ]

NELLIE AND THE PREACHER
Tell me what fluent talker does not love a good listener--a listener whose whole attitude and expres sion declares, " I love to hear you talk ? " Subtler flattery never more insidiously wooed the natural vanity of man.
There are husbands in this world of ours--mere pig-headed, noisy, dogmatic imbeciles--whose wives listen to their coarse inanities as though wisdom were being distilled, laughing at jaded jests which have been repeated a hundred times; and, in this sly manner, they triumph, even in their helpfulness, ruling the pig-headed imbecile while he struts about and boasts, " I'm Boss."
Xow, Xellie, of course, had no thought of flatter ing Ruel's vanity. She welcomed his companionship and his conversation with unaffected enjoyment. He stimulated her interest in the things she liked best. Mantv/ of his ideas were novel to her: he was instructive as well as entertaining. His enthusiasm for high and noble sentiments, characters, and deeds; his keen appreciation of what was most beautiful in literature, nature, history, and human life, exhila rated her--carrying her feelings along writh it in heartv*/ accord.
Thus it happened that these two gifted young people spent so much of their time together in the spring and summer of 1862, that tattling tongues began to wag. Gossip coupled their names; and rumor engaged them to be married. The whole
[227 ]

BETHANY

neighborhood was full of such talk; and public opin

ion declared if" a good match." "Whether Kuel or

Nellie was aware of this report, I do not know.

Was there erer a community of human beings

where the envious, the malicious, the meddlesome

marplot did not do some of his mean work ? In its

last analysis, the act of the sneak who writes, with

evil purpose, a mischievous anonymous letter, com

mits an act- as heinous as that of the incendiary who

fires your house. And the officious tale-bearer, who

repeats to you what he knows will give you pain,

and cause you trouble, is more dangerous to you

sometimes than the enemy whose talk he reports.

I never knew who it was that wrote to my Uncle

Ralph. Xor did he. The letters had no name signed

to them, and the writing' could never be identified,

7

O

'

but the Bethany post-mark was on the envelopes;

and the blow was aimed from home. Cursed be

those letters and the cowardly hand that wrote them;

for they stabbed to the very heart as noble a youth

as ever loyally loved his friends and gallantly served

his country!

It was a Sabbath in June, 1862, and, after one of his finest sermons which thrilled his large congre gation with its electrical power, Ruel took his place in the Roberts rockaway and rode with the family to dinner. Having no domestic ties in Bethany, and having found no circle more congenial than that of
[ 228 ]

NELLIE AND THE PREACHER
Squire Roberts, he had only to follow his inclinations to find himself at the Squire's, where there was a good table, good company, good music, good books^ and the most intellectual, well-read, and radiantly lovely girl in all that country.
The weather was warm, very warm. Squire Rob erts, it is true, had not yet said it was the hottest day he had ever felt in his life. He seldom began to repeat that time-honored fib till July. After the Fourth of July it was as regular in its attendance, from noon to three o'clock, as potato pudding was at the Sunday dinner-table.
Ruel was wearing his long-tailed black broad cloth coat, and a sheet-iron linen shirt. The exer tion of delivering his sermon in that little hot-box of a pine-plank church, where the ventilation was bad, and the air heavy with the breath of a packed, perspiring congregation, had evidently over-heated him. His face was moist, and the collar which en circled his short, thick neck was limp. He would have given a good deal for the privilege of pulling off the suffocating coat, opening his close-buttoned vest, and laying aside his collar and cravat.
By the time the rockaway reached the Roberts home, however, the preacher had been so refreshed, partly by the currents of air, and partly by the vig orous fanning which the ladies gave him with their broad palmetto-leaf fans, that he made a jest of his
L 229]

BETHAXY
recent fatigue, and went to the dining-room with his appetite in its usual healthy condition.
An hour before, two hundred people had hung upon his lips, fascinated, and dominated by his oratorical power. His brain, his heart, his soul had been tern pest-tossed with passion. Beautiful images, vivid conceptions, burning thoughts, magnetic appeals to the feelings, flights of eloquence which spell-bound his listeners--all these were his an hour ago. Where were thevt> now ? " Where are the snows of \vj esteryear? " Gone, gone, forever. Other inspirations the orator might hereafter have: those were as far strayed from his power to recall them as they were lost to the people who had listened. Melody may be caught and caged; it has a language of its own and can garner its gems; the artist's dream lives on canvas or in stone; inspired verse secures the immortality which the poet craves, and he dies with the consola tion of knowing that his creations are imperishable; but the fame of the orator is a breath which leaves no trace behind. Take out from the noblest speech the personnel of the speaker, and that which re mains is a lifeless corpse. How can you re-create the environment ? How can you reproduce the voice, delivery, and play of expression ? Once a sudden storm arose while George White-field was preaching, and, with the readiness of genius, he made use of the tempest to emphasize his sermon: being asked
[230]

NELLIE AND THEPREACHER
afterwards to repeat the sermon, he answered, c" I'll repeat the sermon, if you'll repeat the storm."
An hour ago Ruel had been the inspired orator, a monarch, swaying his subjects. Now the animal appe tites were in control, and he was just a man, like other men, feeding himself earnestly, steadily, and with robust appetite. In other words, he ate like the honest Dr. Samuel Johnson, rather than after the manner of Byron, who minced in public and stuffed in private.
Dinner finished, there came the usual adjourn ment to the parlor, the usual withdrawal of the Squire for his nap and of Mrs. Roberts to household routine. Nellie, at the piano, played sacred music, and the slow monotonous melody was a soothing lullaby to the young preacher who sat, much relaxed, in the large rocking-chair. Strain after strain of the familiar harmony wooed his senses until a grate ful languor crept over him, fastened its hold upon him, and conquered him. The orator dozed--his large head inclined gently on his breast, his face a picture of serene repose. Nellie played on, piece after piece, unsuspecting, until some slight noise-- not quite a snore--caused her to glance around. She smiled; and like a good girl, she kept right on, play ing softlyfor several minutes, with no second look at the sleeper.
Few physical enjoyments are more delicious than
[ 231 ]

B E THANY

that brief upright doze which some can take in a

chair, without change of position, and without open

ing the mouth. That peculiar nap comes velvet-shod;

stays but a moment, and is gone--leaving the fortu

nate recipient as completely refreshed as if nature

had taken out the old mental machinery and polished

it anew.

Ruel waked, burst into a jolly laugh, and ex

claimed : " Miss Xellie, forgive me! I have been

asleep. Your music is partly to blame--it soothes

like a lullaby." She laughed also, as she replied,

" That is a doubtful compliment, isn't it ? Suppose

I should go to sleep while you were preaching, would

that be a compliment to you ? "

" The eases are different: the preacher's business

is to keep people awake, whereas music is frequently

used to put folks to sleep."

" Very young folks," she answered demurely.

"And some old folks, too," he contended, in high

good humor. " The principle is the same. What

soothes and brines slumber to the very voting, and

W

f

</

<~- 7

to the very old, must have soporific qualities in it

to all people under certain circumstances. But

oratory which puts people to sleep must necessarily

be bad."

" That depends," she said, '* a good deal upon who

the sleeper is. I think I could name one or two mem

bers of our church who would be almost certain to

[ 232 ]

NELLIE AND, THE PREACHER
doze a little, on a hot summer's day, no matter how good was the sermon." He laughed again as he said, "Yes, Joe Wiggins nodded to-day, as usual. I reckon I'll have to set the conference at Joe. If that does not cure him, we must try laughing-gas."
Picking up a large, richly colored sea-shell, he held it to his ear a moment,
" I never saw a more magnificently beautiful specimen; the coloring is wonderful. When I look at a thing like this---picked up by chance--and con sider how far it exceeds in beauty any flower that we know, T find myself wondering whether many of the most exquisite productions of nature are not yet hidden from us. Put the shell to your ear."
She did so: and as if interpreting his thought, she said, " Yes, I remember the explanation the poets give. If I could ever have my choice, my home should be upon some highland, compassed on the one side by forest, meadow, running streams, and upon the other by the boundless ocean. The sound of the waves in the sea-shell reminds me of what I would dream, if I dared to dream."
" Xot dare to dream," he answered. " Why shouldn't you dream as much as you like? What harm can it do to have ideals? Was accident ever the parent of anything permanently good and great? In front, of the Work runs the Design. The dream is ever in advance, beckoning to the worker. The ideal stands upon the heights calling to ^ambitious
[233]

BETHANY
men, ' Come on.' Xone ever reach her side; yet those who try are those who rise above the dead level of life."
" Yes/' she responded, " I think I understand. Once I read of a great sculptor, who became despond ent because a statue he had just finished came fully up to his ideal. He prophesied that he would never have another great inspiration."
" It was Thorwaldsen," Ruel said. " He was right. That statue, his Christ, was not equal to his others; and he never again did anything great. His dreams had quit coming."
" But," she persisted, recurring to the thought she had in mind, " What could I, a Southern girl, do toward reaching my ideal? I must be content with the life which others make for me. I cannot shape it for myself. If I were to turn my hand to manual labor of almost any kind--book-keeping, dress making, keeping a millinery store, acting as sales lad*y/ --I would lose caste."
He reflected, and replied: " Xot where you were already known to be a lady. But I admit that manual labor is too often consid ered a badge of social inferiority, not alone in the South, but- everywhere. Honest toil ceases to be a test of worth and respectability as soon as any people emerge from the early stages of democracy." After a silence in which he seemed to be considering whether he should speak his inward thoughts, he said,
[ 234 ]

NELLIE AND THE PREACHER
" The truth is that slavery is a curse to everybody except the negro."
" Except the negro ? " " Yes, except the negro. We Southern people took a naked black cannibal and made a human being out of him; but in the process, in the contact, we ourselves have become morally and mentally lowered. Even our educated men talk a mixed nigger dialect; and our children are mentally corrupted by their nigger nurses and nigger playmates." He continued, speaking earnestly, " As long as the South has slavery, she will have unskilled labor: and nothing can be more certain than that, with her skilled labor, the North will take the lead from us, and keep it. That nation whose laborers are most highly educated; that nation whose industries are most diversified, is the nation which will rule the industrial world. It is inevitable. Tied down to its one crop--cotton--and to its unskilled laborer-- the negro slave--the South is industrially doomed. Take off our backs Northern goods, and we would be clad like Adam and Eve." Nellie listened in amazement. " You really be lieve that slavery is a curse to us rather than to the
C/
negroes ? " " I do, sin^e the negro has gained by the system
and is still gaining, while we have lost, and are still losing. Tf the North overpowers us in this cruel war, the negro will be freed ; and the same crusading
[235]

BETHANY

spirit which freed him will assume guardianship

over him. What they may insist upon doing for him

before they atop, God only knows."

" What more could they*/ do than to set him free ? " she inquired, startled and wondering.

" They could make a citizen of him, give him

the right to vote, appoint him to office, open the army

to him, open public schools for him, and otherwise

\

try to put him upon an equality with us. Worse

than all, they could inflame his passions against those

who have held him in bondage, and thus curse the

South with a permanent state of smouldering civil

j

war--equivalent to a social hell."

j

Her lovely eyes opened wide with a look of horror,

and she exclaimed fervently, " God forbid ! "

Then she returned once more to her own thought.

" But the South has its peculiar unwritten law about

woman," she continued. " We Southern girls are

.educated to believe that our only true sphere is the

home. This means that we have no other sphere, no

real independence, no opportunities whatever ex

cepting those the men make for us."

" What other sphere becomes her so well ? " he

;

asked warmly. "What higher type can human

nature develop than the perfect wife ? Why, all the

glory' of what we call civilization pivots on that.

Given the perfect, wife, the Queen of the Home, and

the human family is seen at its best."

" Provided the husband----" she began.

I

[ 336 ]

NELLIE AND THE PREACHER
" Ah, yes," he hroke in, " of course, a brute of a husband can trample the bloom out of the sweetest flower; but I am supposing that a superior woman will have some skill in making her choice--else how could she compete with men in the industrial world, or in the professions ? "
" There is a difference. A very superior woman might make dozens of mistakes in the industrial world, or in the professions, and upon these very mistakes might build success. Her errors are her teachers, just as they are, under the same circum stances, to men. But when your superior woman makes a mistake in marriage, as so many of them do, what hope has she ? "
" Do you imagine that Southern women make that mistake oftener than women do elsewhere ?" he asked with a good-humored smile.
She smiled also as she answered, " Perhaps not, but the tendency is in that direction, for this reason: the Southern girl has fewer opportunities for selfsupport than are enjoyed by her sisters elsewhere; she has less practical knowledge of men, perhaps, than her sisters elsewhere, her movements being more restricted. Influenced by a greater fear of being left in a dependent condition, she perhaps consents, to marry in many instances when, other wise, she would not."
" You think then that many Southern women prefer a sorry husband to none at all ? "
[ 237 1

BETHANY

" I fear that is true/' she replied stoutly. He

laughed in his jolliest manner as he said:

" I think it would be a big task to prove that

j

Southern women are at all peculiar in that. The

';

' old maid ' feels lonely the world over." Seeing

that her face had flushed,j he resumed earnestl*v/ :

l

" ilv dear Miss Xellie, all nations differ in the

c/

.

/

place they accord to women. The status which

women occupy in any system is the best proof of the

purity, or the depravity, of that system. Southern

men regard the home as sacred. To throw around

their women even-* possible protection, to guard the

home against the slightest, impurity, are purposes

:

common to all Southern men. The best men of all

the civilized world feel the same wavs . The difference between them is one of method only. Judge

the tree bv its fruit;7 and what have we in the South ?

s

As pure and as sweet and as noble a womanhood as

ever graced the earth! "

He said this with great earnestness, and with a

proud flash in his eyes. It was evident that she was

,

moved--deeply moved--and the personal application

I

which his eye seemed to give to his words could not

fail to please her exceedingly. But apparently she

had reflected seriously upon the matter, and was not

willing to be convinced by a compliment.

" Isn't there something humiliating to a woman

I

in knowing that she can never take care of herself--

j

never make her own way in the world ? Suppose a

j

[ 238 ]

NELLIE AND THE PREACHER
rich Southern girl to suddenly lose her riches, and to be thrown upon her own resources--what is to become of her? "
" In such extreme cases," he answered, " the Southern girl is not entirely without hope. There are things she can do, though I grant that the pro fessions are not open to her, nor many other oppor tunities in our industrial sty, stem. After all./ the men must make the world what they can, and what they will: it has always been so. Women inspire men, purify men, make them happy, share their success and make it sweeter--but the human race must alwavtr s be what the men are."
" So we are the inferior sex ? " " Not by any means, the inferior. But men are better fitted to fight the rough battle of life in the outer world. Why, even the best cooks that ever lived were men. The best dressmakers are men. Believe me, Miss Nellie, a woman is never more divinely missioned than when she is the good angel of the house. Into the lives of all good and great men have gone the ennobling spirits of the mother and the wife." She did not pursue the subject but went to the piano, and with a lingering touch, and a soft one, pi lavtv ed "The Monaste.rfy Bells." When she finished, he said with a smile, " If you had been playing that a while ago, I should not have gone to sleep."
f 239 ]

BETHANY

" Mr. Wade," she asked impulsively, " why do

you not write a book ?"

His sides shook with merriment. "Miss Xellie,

all the books have been written. There is nothing

new to sav about anything."

/

ts

<__

" But suppose you should publish something like

what you have been saying to me, couldn't you con

vince our leadingC men that we oug~ ht t- o Cg/et rid of slavery for our own good. Such a book as that would

be new., and it would create a sensation."

"Do vou want to see me tarred and feathered, or

V

}

ridden on a rail, or swung up to a limb ? Why, my

dear young lady, just such a book a^ you want me

to write has been published by Hinton Helper of

Xorth Carolina. Its onlvt. effect was to fan the fire on both sides of Mason and Dixon's line. Thou

sands of Southern men would be glad to help lynch

the author. And C. C. Clay of Kentucky has pub

lished the very same arguments."

She exclaimed: " Why, I understood that Helper's

book "was detested because of its violence. Didn't

he say w-e ought to be treated as outlaws and

pirates ? "

"Yes/' he answered. " He said that. But that

alone did not cause the storm of wrath and hatred

which followed the book. The volume is a large one,

crammed with solid fact, official figures, sound logic,

and good common sense. He shows that slavery is

an injury to the South. His arguments cannot be

[240]

NELLIE AND THE PREACHER

answered. Hence, the anger of those whom he as

sails. Jesus Christ himself could not inspire a book

against slavery which would convince and conciliate

the Yancey-ites and the Bob-Toombs-ites of the

South."

" Mr. Wade, you astonish me! You talk like an

abolitionist! "

The girl's face expressed wonder and displeasure.

He answered quietly: " I am no abolitionist. The

Beechers and the Garrisons have given me no chance

to be. Had these fanatics kept their mouths shut,

and not gone to threatening the South, and preach

ing a crusade against it, there would have been long

ago such a movement among ourselves in favor of

emancipation as would eventually have ended the

system."

" What makes you think so ? " she asked.

" The plain facts," he answered. " The trend of

the age was in that direction: the teachings of our

wisest men were along that line : the Christian senti

ment, was being aroused to the same conviction."

" Why, then, was nothing done ? " she inquired.

" Well, it couldn't be done in a day. Southern

statesmen had tried the colonization plan, and

Liberia was established. The negroes could not be

unconditionally set free without a social convulsion. It
Xone of our wise men could offer the practical plan.

Jefferson did his best, but even he realized that it

was a tremendous difficulty."

17

[341)

BETHANY

Rising to go, he added: " The moment the poll-

J

ticians, North and South, took charge of the prob

lem, they began to inflame the passions of the people,

in order to maintain the power they had grasped.

;

After that was done, the law of revolutions made it

f

inevitable that the most violent would rule. Radi-

|

cals led the Xorth against the South; radicals led

J

the South against the North. The natural, the un-

\

avoidable result is War."

" And after the war ? " she ventured to ask.

" Vce victis! Woe to the vanquished! Roman

or Anglo-Saxon, the rule is the same--the loser

pays."

[ 243 ]

I

CHAPTEK VII
BALPH AND HIS WOUND
IT was the most horrible night my Uncle Ralph had ever passed--that night in the field hospital of Cobb's Legion. Piteous groans, agonizing shrieks, sounded throughout the night as the wounded sol-, diers lay on the bare ground in the soaking rain.
!N"ext morning when his faithful friend, Toombs Cullars, came to see how he was getting on, Ralph was wild to get away from the hospital. Anywhere, anty/ where,/ would be better than this.
His wound had been dressed, his arm hung help lessly in its sling, his fever was rising, but he would listen to no remonstrance.
" Take me away, Toombs, take me away I I can't stand this. It will kill me. Come, let's go! "
There was no stopping him. Toombs put his arm around Ralph, and Ralph's arm clung to Toombs, and so they started for the camp. Toombs meant to do his utmost to keep Ralph in the camp where " the boys " could nurse him.
These rough soldiers had learned how to help them[243]

BETHANY

selves and one another. They soon came to know

what to do for the sick and wounded and what

wounds were past all cure. Ralph's friends believed

that he only needed rest, quiet and good nursing;

and they determined to save him from the sickening

scenes of the hospital.

The roads were in a terrible condition. Armies

coming and armies going--horse, foot, artillery,

camp equipage, sutlers' wagons, supply trains, had

cut them to pieces, and the Chickahominy swamps

were

a

lobloll*v^

into

which

men, /

horses

and

vehicles

sank and floundered. isow, Uncle Ralph had caught

the mea.-le? at Richmond liefore the campaign

opened; and had not fully recovered before lie broke

away from the hospital and reported for duty. In

marching *_-

to

the

pJ. osition

which

the

Bethanv ^

Guards

occupied, before the first battle of the series leading

to Malvern Hill, he had been drenched in a rain

storm. This wetting brought on a severe cold.

Thinking nothing of it, he kept his place in the ranks

till disabled in the last battle. Xow that the fight

ing was over, his system relaxed, and he began to

feel a sickness far more serious than his wound.

Cullars was observant, and finally one evening as

they were about to camp in the rain, he said to

Ralph:

" Look a-here, old man, this will never do. If you

haven't got pneumonia now, you'll soon have it, if you

keep on sleeping in wet blankets. Another night

RALPH AND HIS WOUND
may be one too many. We must get you into a house and a dr\yj bed."
Paying no attention to anything Ralph said, Toombs left the camp. An hour later he returned, and called out: " Come here, Dolph."
He spoke a few words to Ramsey, and they both got hold of Ralph and bore him along slowly to the house of a noble-hearted Virginia lady--a Mrs. Dabney-- who had cheerfully consented to give shelter for the night to the sick and wounded soldier.
Xext morning she would not hear of his leaving: he was too ill to think of such a thing: he must stay there and let her nurse him back to health. ISTo, no, he must stay.
And he did stay; lying there, a very, very sick man, for more than a month; nursed as tenderly by Mrs. Dabne*v/ as if it had been her own son.
Somewhere, somewhere among radiant faces, be yond earth's cares and doubts, I fervently hope that good woman lives, forevermore!
And I do hope that she knew that in the heart- of Ralph, and in the hearts of us who loved him, her dear name was enshrined with the holiest gratitude and love.
Glorious old Virginia! She had more than one Mrs. Dabney. They were there by the thousand.
I well remember the day in September, 1862, when Uncle Ralph came home. Letters from
[ 345 ]

B E THANY
Mrs. Dabney had reached us, telling us where he was, and in what condition.
My grandfather was sadly stirred and anxious. Tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks, and as he lifted his large red silk handkerchief to wipe them off, his hands shook pitiably with palsy. His tongue was involved in the maladv. so that his articulation
**
was not distinct, yet his meaning was made plain. His own body-servant, Wilson, must go to Vir-
ginia, and bring Ralph home--" Must go at once! " So Wilson, a bright young negro, had.been duly
instructed, furnished with money, and put on the train for Richmond. In due time he was on his way back, bringing Ralph.
Shall I ever forget the day? Grandfather was too feeble to go to town, but he let me go along with the yellow boy, Sam, who drove the rockaway and the two fat mules. We stopped near the little granite depot waiting, for the train. It was an hour late--a respectable precedent for all trains that are waited for with particular impatience. But at last " she whooped," as Sam said, in high glee, and my eager eyes caught first the column of smoke, and then the smoke-stack, as the engine rounded the curve at the Stovall swamp. What took place between that delirious moment and the other delirious moment when Uncle Ralph had his arm around my neck--hugging me dose, close--I could not, for the life of me, say.
[246]

RALPH AND HIS WOUND
I laughed, I cried, I whooped--I had St. Vitus's dance, complicated with vulgar hysterics.
" Drive on, Sam." And away we went, homeward. As we walked toward the house, Wilson had to support Uncle Ealph; and it was then that I noticed how wan and weak he was. His right arm hung in a sling; his face was as white as a sheet; his walk was uncertain and slow. With all her tact, my mother could not hide the first impression the sight of him made upon her. She was shocked, scared--I saw it as plainly as I ever saw anything--and then it was gone; and her expression was all affection, warm welcome, cheerful sympathy. As to grandfather, his eyes were dimmer, his intelligence more sluggish; and he saw nothing save his wounded son, his long-lost son, restored to him; and he was proud and happy. It was always beautiful to witness Ralph's fine courtesy, patience and consideration in dealing with his father; and upon this day the old man's heart was made to swell with satisfaction.
In the healthy atmosphere of home Uncle Ralph began to improve. Slowly, he regained strength. Little by little, he increased the length of his daily stroll, until he could go to the fields where the hands were at work. But his arm did not get right. It had been accidentally hurt several times, and the
[ 347 ]

BETHANY

wound proved obstinate. Week after week passed,

month after month, and still he was but the ghost of

his former sell*. Xeither in strength nor in spirits

was he what he used to be. Only by painful effort

could he walk to the fields and back without help;

only by the rarest chance would a smile be seen on his

face. His old-time laughter, which we had all loved to

g

hear, was gone. During the day he had his good

word for everybody, white and black; at night he

would sit on the piazza, silent by the hour. He did

not shun company nor conversation. He freely

talked with everyone who wanted to know about the

war. He was not morose nor unsociable. But his

whole manner seemed to indicate that his thoughts,

left to themselves, dwelt upon other matters.

A sadly wan, broken, solitary, quiet man! He

had a high, resigned, melancholy expression upon

his features which had never been there before. It

made him look older, gave more character to his face ;

and, in my eyes at least, made a more distinguished

man'of him.

He did not speak of Xellie Roberts, nor of any

other girl. If they were spoken of in his presence,

he listened impassively, and spoke of something

else.

He visited no one. In fact, it was September be

fore he was able to mount his horse and ride any

where.

He was profoundly convinced that Kellie had

C 248 ]

RALPH AND HIS WOUND

accepted the preacher. Not only the anonymous

letters declared this, hut current opinion in the

neighborhood had settled upon the same conclusion.

The thing was regarded as settled. Even my mother

believed that there could be no doubt about it.

Uncle Kalph saw the facts as they were; sub

mitted with proud humility to the inevitable; and

showed no man his wound. But he had suffered, and

was still suffering. The piney-woods belle was yet

the mistress of his heart.

When he first went off to the army, he had from

time to time written to Xellie, and she to him. The

tone of the letters was that of the most tender friend

ship; but he was not the man to do his wooing from

a distance, and talk his love with a pen.

]STo. He had said all that he could say, when they

had been face to face. Xot until they were face to

face again would he-again make love to Xellie. He

would do his dutv in the ranks; he would earn a

f

7

right to her admiration if he could.

Xot until he had won, among his fellow men, in

the fiery ordeal of battle, a place equal to that of the

bravest, would lie ever ask Xellie Roberts to be his

wife. True, she had never told him that she loved

him. Xor had she committed herself in any way.

But yet he believed that, in her heart of hearts, there

was a tenderness for him; and that when he had

made a' man of himself, had won honorable rank

through toil, devotion to duty, persistence and

[ 249 ]

BETHANY

daring, the noble-hearted girl who had permitted

him to love her would not condemn him to despair.

From one cause and another, the correspondence

between the two had lagged. Restraining himself,

from principle and policy, there was nothing he

could say of the subject nearest his heart; and there

was not much incentive to write about others. Sev

eral times his letters were lost in the uncertain mail-

service of the army; and the same fate befell some

of hers. Each thought the other an indifferent cor-

f

respondent. Each was somewhat piqued. It was at

I

this unfortunate juncture that the first anonymous

letter was written. It reached the victim at the

moment when he was readiest to believe.

The letter explained what had puzzled and wor

ried him. She had not written to him, had not an

swered his letters, because she was more pleasantly

engaged with that young preacher whom the Bethany

people had gone crazy about. Ah, yes, it was plain

enough now. She had met a man more attractive

to her than he had ever been--one who could talk

to her of books, music, flowers, poetry and senti

ment. It would be a far more brilliant match for

her--why should she not see it as plainly as even he.

He did not blame her. How could he? She had

given him no pledge--had made him no confession.

Yes, it was all plain enough now. She loved an

other ; one worthier of her than he; and hence she

had quietly allowed the correspondence to drop.

[250 1

RALPH AND HIS WOUND
To him, she was lost. His wounded arm had hurt him--but not like this. The bed of sickness had tortured him--but not like this. Yet his pride was his powerful ally, and did not fail him.
Be a man! Be a man ! Utter no complaint. Ask no one's pity. Be a man! and out of this terrible trial come forth stronger.
So his features had come to wear habitually that fixed expression of sad fortitude. Sometimes I felt that I would have been willing to do any-' thing on earth to bring back to my uncle his old, jolly, ringing laugh. But I dared not speak to him about it. Instinctively, I felt that it would never do.
Among those who had come from Bethany to visit the sick and wounded soldier was Ruel Wade. With no embarrassment whatever, and with a manner so frank, hearty and sympathetic that there was no re sisting it, he made himself known to my Uncle Ralph; and inquired for all the particulars relating to his campaigns, his hardship, and his wound. At first, Uncle Ralph had hesitated, doubtful how to receive these unexpected and undesired advances, but it was only for a moment.
His decision--the right one-^was made before Ruel had marked the hesitation. After that first meeting, Ruel had been several times to our house; and I think Ralph came as near to liking him
[ 251 ]

BETHANY

as it was possible for him to like any man who had

captured the heart of Xellie Roberts.

That Euel was fond of Uncle Ralph and rather

admired him, was evident. While the soldier could

not talk about books, quote poetry, or utter eloquent

sentiments, he did not lack that kind of natural

abilityt. which is sometimes called " horse sense." He was interesting to any man or woman who cared to

speak of the world as it really is--the practical

world, instead of the ideal. There was a dignity and

self-respect about him that was rather fine. In

person he was always as neat as a pin: bore his

head well up; and in his carriage there was no sug

gestion that he was craving somebody's permission to

remain alive. In his new uniform--or^ old one

either, for that matter--he looked every inch a sol

dier, and a man!

Xow, I loved to hear the preacher talk. I appre

ciated all his good and great qualities. I came to

love him verv dearlv, but the more I saw of Ruel

ts

t, 7

Wade the greater was my indignant wrath that he

should have been preferred to -Uncle Ralph as a

lover.

Ruel chewed tobacco; and he was nearlv alwavs

*

,

*>

squirting ambier about. His " every-day clothing "

was rustv, considerably soiled--his linen showing

t. '

i

O

slight stains of tobacco juice. The leather strings

of his shoes were often untied, disclosing socks not

peculiarly clean. His hat had a worn, greasy,

[252]

RALPH AND HIS WOUND
shintv/ look:/ and his necktie was twisted and shrlveled into a mere black string which looked old and fravt/ ed. A beard covered his face. Too indolent to shave, he let the hair grow where it pleased. lie used to say, with that merry twinkle of the eye which defied you to read his true meaning, that nature had not intended men t< shave. The fact that the pain caused by a dull razor made the eyes water, was proof that shaving was injurious to the sight. Therefore, nature had not meant that men should shave. Un conventional most of the time, unkempt and untidy part of the time, but big-hearted and big-brained all the time--such was Ruel Wade; and if you knew him well and he wanted you to like him, you would like him.
As he was leaving us one day, ambling and rolling along in his lazy manner, he looked up to my tall uncle, and said cordially, " Come out to church next Sunday, Ralph. I have not seen you there since you got back from the army. I want you to hear me preach."
To my surprise, Uncle Ralph answered, seriously and promptly, " I will come."
[253 ]

CHAPTER VIII

AGAIN IX THE OLD CHURCH

ABOUT the doors of countr*v/ churches there used to cluster, before services, groups of men and boys,

who whittled and chatted until the hymn was given

I

out. With the first swell of the fine-old congrega-

|

tional music, the loafing groups would dissolve, as

\

the loiterers filed into the church. A few of the out-

j

siders might wait until the hymn was finished, and

j

the first prayer offered up; but, generally, everybody

j

'would be on the inside at the close of the first stanza

I

of the hvmn. ; This grouping on the outside before servi. ce gav1 e ]

the country people their best opportunity to indulge

>

social inclinations, and to exchange neighborhood

news.

At the church door the latest gossip would be cir

culated, including the latest crop items, the latest

tidings from the sick, the latest reports on affairs

political. During the war, the latest news from the

front was the all-absorbing topic; and any one who

had recently received an interesting letter was an im

portant man.

[254]

THE OLD CHURCH
It was the first Sunday in October, 1862, when my Uncle Ralph passed into the usual out-door group which clustered about our church at Bethany. Ac cording to promise, he had come to hear Ruel \Yade preach.
As the tall young soldier had approached them, the loiterers had suspended their gossip; and they turned to him with warmest greetings. His gallantry in the army was well known. Letters from his com rades to friends and relatives had spoken of him in the highest terms. The whole community was pre pared to honor him as one of its heroes. But he had offered it no opportunity. He had not shown him self in public. Therefore, the group at the churchdoor, by a spontaneous movement, gave him almost an ovation. They were the men who were either too old for military service, or who came within some of the exemptions; but they all were ready to show the highest consideration to any one of the Southern volunteers who had fought gallantly for the cause.
The church-door group held him in conversation for some time, and he had barely made his escape into the house before Ruel appeared, dressed in his long-tailed black coat, having that intent expression habitual to him on the first Sabbath.
After selecting a hymn which all could sing--we had no organ and choir to do the musical part for us in those days--Ruel selected as his text the verse wherein Charity is declared to be greater than Faith
[255]

BETHANY

and Hope. Of course, his central thought was that

the fathers of the church had made a mistake when

they grounded the Christian religion upon Faith,

rather than upon Charity. Naturally, his line of

reasoning was that Hope was a mental condition

beyond human control; .and that Faith depended

wholly upon the structure of the brain, whereas

Charity could be made a matter of principle and,

therefore, of human control. Who could tell a hypo

crite from a true believer by the test of faith ? The

knave could repeat the formula as smoothly as the

saint

" They built on a false foundation when they built

on Faith alone. They make more hypocrites than con

verts by such a method. The world is full of noble-

minded, noble-hearted men whose mental structure

is such that it is impossible for them to have exactly

the same Faith as you and I: should we condemn

those men?

" It may be that every day of their lives is fuller

of Christian charity--good works done from hu

mane motives--than yours will ever be: yet because

you say you have Faith, you puff up yourself with

pride, and say to them, ' I am better than you.'

I

" Mere Faith varies with every clime, every

I

people--dependent always upon heredity, education,

environment The Turk is as honest in his faith as

yourself. It comes to him sanctified by his mother's

prayers, just as yours did. The Hindoo's faith in

[356]

THE OLD CHURCH

Buddha lacks nothing in the reverence which yours

in Christ possesses.

" The Hindoo mother may almost be said to have

given birth to a Buddhist at the same time that she

bore a child,-just as your mother's religion entered

into your very existence with her blood and flesh.

" Why then build religion upon such an accidental

condition as Faith ? Why not build upon Charity ?

It is in all lands the same, amid all people the same,

in every age of the world the same.

" Charity, the messenger of the good motive;

Charity, the good angel, born of the warm heart and

the loftv soul; Charitv, the favorite of God !

!/

/

tV /

" Who dares to tell me that a man shall be sent

to hell, to be tortured throughout the endless ages, be

cause he does not believe--when his life mavf have been one continuous chronicle of good deeds ? Who

dares to contend that another man shall be sent to

heaven, to be an angel forevermore, because he does

believe--although his life may have reeked with

crime and been barren of good works ? The priest,

who wants to stretch forth his rod of iron over the

world! Christ never said it: the Bible does not

teach it: human reason denies it: the human heart

revolts at it. Shackle religion by a narrow test like

that, let the priest absolve every scoundrel who kneels

and mutters the formula of Faith--and the church

will become the city of refuge, the social bomb-proof,

of the worldly-wise rascality of the universe."

W

[ 257 1

BETHANY
In a Toice whose vibrating earnestness laid its touch upon every heart-string, he exclaimed:
" Faith! You talk to me of Faith! You fashion your lips and your ears to the word Faith! The whole church--Protestant and Catholic--is being enslaved bv/ the wor--d Faith!
" Who denies the divine mission of Faith ? Not I, not I! Nerving every arm that ever toiled for success, speeding every foot which has run the race for worldly honors, has been the electrical power of Faith. ITpon every flag which heroic endeavor has borne to victory, in every field of human strife ami struggle, was written the word Faith.
" But when the glorious word and principle is misused; when Faith is prostituted; when the foulhearted sinner listens to pulpit utterance which warrants tKe belief that Faith, mere Faith, can wash his scarlet whiter than snow every time he stains his robe of life--then I denounce the false doctrine as foreign to Christ! None but a priest, catering to in tolerance, could have fashioned so deadly a weapon against the intellectual integrity of the human race 1
" If religion does not mean being good, and doing good, it is not worth having--is a mockery, a delu sion, a spiritual slavery! "
Whether we Baptists would have patiently listened to that kind of preaching from a rank stranger is doubtful. Probably we should have resented the
[258]

THE OLD CHURCH

heresy, and had the offender " brought up in the

church " about it.

But Ruol Wade came of such good old Baptist

stock that he could have said almost anything. The

elders did not keep a sharp eye on him, as they would

have done on some one else. He was not only of the

strictest orthodox lineage, but he was a graduate of

our Baptist college, where the great Doctor P. H.

Mell was supreme. Whoever came forth into the

ministerial world with the stamp of Doctor ^lell's

approval upon him was necessarily compelled to be

an orthodox Baptist--no matter what he might

appear to say to the contrary.

Ruel knew his strength, and presumed upon it

daringly. lie really enjoyed the " shaking up " he

sometimes gave us. lie reveled in our consterna

tion. In many respects he was original. A more

fearless man, in his quiet way, I never knew. Books

were not his only teachers: he studied men and things

with those keen eyes of his; and no sort of sham

could blindfold him. The almost ironical smile

which sometimes lurked about his face at the Sat

urday conference suggested that it might have

pleased him well to have played bull in that little

china shop just a few minutes.

It was noticed that he never preached " doctrinal

sermons." His appeals were made to the broad

sympathies and the loftier aspirations of human

nature.

.

[ 259 ]

BETHANY

"Make yourselves useful. Do good. Love one

another. Beat down the devil that is in you, and

keep him down. In no other way can you reach

heaven. Resist low appetites and sensual cravings.

We all have base desires--the lady in silks, no less

than the wench in serge; the man in broad-cloth, no

less than the man in home-spun: the hero and the

heroine of life are they who have conquered the

enemy within themselves. What makes the gentle

man \ Self-restraint. What makes the lady ? Self- '

restraint.

" Oh, my friends, life is short, and we are very

weak, very helpless--far astray from right paths.

We know nothing of our destinies. All the books

on earth are unable to teach us what we most crave

to know.

j

" Creed starts up in all the highways which cross . |

and reeross the universe; and her voice is ever the

\

same: Believe! But poor human nature, dimly



seeing the present, and ignorant of both past and

future, answers back, with sob-broken tones, i Unveil

the truth and let me for myself see her glorious

face!'

" Vain prayer. We do not know. Our fathers

never knew. Our sons will never know. We dwell

here together a little while, lost, helpless--struggling

in all small, mean wavs to make each more wretched

'

L,

than we already are.

" Oh, brethren! Cultivate kindness. Do right,

[260 1

THE OLD CHURCH
because it is right. Do good, because it is the nobler part.
" Be true, be pure. Die!--as the little ermine dies--rather than soil the spotless white of your souls!
" Do not shun hell, merely because you dread the torture. Do not seek heaven, merely because you cal culate the reward.
" Cowardice is no ingredient of true Christianity: selfish prudence is not the motive which Christ will approve.
" Rise, rise, above the sordid meanness of sin and shame; rise to the full height of your highest thoughts and feelings; and so live that your liferecord may be studded with the deeds of your better nature--and when the night comes they will shine as stars.
" Vex not yourselves with vain disputes about doctrine: fill your lives with holy light: fill the lives of others with what light you can: strive always and by all means to become pure in heart--and as surely as we can know anything, we may know that a just God will not frown upon you forever."
It would be impossible to follow the emotions which chased each other through the mind of Ralph, as he sat listening to Ruel's sermon. It seemed to him that inspiration from on high was in it. To him it seemed that the music of the spheres was in it. The infinite yearnings of the human race for the higher,
[ 261 ]

BETHAXY

better life were in it. He was profoundly moved;

and not until the last word bad been said did he take

his eyes off the preacher.

As Ruel sank back upon the sofa behind the pulpit,

Ralph heaved a deep sigh. He was thinking to him

self, " Xo wonder she fell in love with him."

The congregation stood up for the last hymn,

Uncle Ralph's towering figure and uniform dominat

ing the little throng, so that all eyes shot glances in

his direction. He looked around him, searching, in

spite of himself, for the one face which haunted all

his dreams.

Xellie was there: Xellie was as lovely as ever--a

|>.

trifle pale, perhaps--and she was so intent upon her

.-

singing that her eyes were not lifted from the short,

|

thick, leather-bound hymn-book.

i

" Let us be dismissed ! "

f

In his mellow voice, full of feeling, Ruel pro-

F.

nouncecl the benediction.

I

And now evervbodv pressed around mv Uncle

.

^

JL

v

Ralph. The men, the ladies, the young, the old--

they all wanted to shake his hand, to speak a word of

welcome, and to make inquiries about loved ones in

Virginia. Ruel, glad that Ralph had come to hear

him preach, and flattered by his rapt attention, de

scended from the pulpit to speak warm words to the

soldier.

'

Squire Roberts haa no personal gnidge against

Ralph; and he also went with the current. He

[262 1

THE OLD CHURCH
shook hands cordially with the hero, and said com plimentary things as others had done.
Then, after he had invited Ruel to dinner, and Rucl had accepted, he surprised Ralph by asking:
" Will you not join us ? " To Ralph's own surprise, his impulsive tongue answered, " Yes, with pleasure."
Dear me! How trivial and accidental are the pivots upon which our destinies turn! At the time Ralph was mounting his horse that morning he had as little thought, of hitching him at Squire Roberta's oak-tree that day, as he had of riding him to the moon. The Squire's weakness in going with the crowd at the church, and his vanity in wishing to take to dinner the two heroes of the dav, Ruel and
c- J
Ralph, had made an awkward situation which Ralph's impulsive tongue had rendered almost intol erable. As the bay horse glided along by the rockaway, Ralph's thoughts were far from pleasant. He had put himself into a false position. He would em barrass Xellie as well as himself.
The preacher would probably feel no constraint, for a new comer could hardly be supposed to know anything of their past relations: and as to Squire Roberts, he would gratefully accept as true that which appeared to be true, namely, that Ruel had suc ceeded where Ralph had failed, and that Ralph was bearing himself like a man under the disappointment.
[263 ]

BETHANY
As yet, Ralph and Xellie had barely spoken to each other. A formal word of salutation, the usual bow; nothing more. He had looked into her eves, as he had looked into the muzzles of muskets--not be cause it was easy, but because he was no coward. Had not. his mind already been convinced that she had plighted her faith to the preacher, had it not been that he had schooled himself and forced himself to realize that all hope for him was gone, the brief glance that she flashed at him as he " faced the guns " might have had its meaning.
Had he not been, blind---stone blind--he would have read in that brief, troubled, questioning glance something of anger, and something of re proach.
Since he was looking for nothing, he saw nothing. The girl had chosen another man: she had never been his: she had not coquetted or played false: she had held him in suspense, but then she herself had been uncertain, perhaps: the other man was so far his superior in education and talent, and was besides so very admirable in sterling qualities of disposition and character, that she had done no more than nine hundred and ninety-nine girls in a thousand would have been glad to do. What would you have ? Girls must follow their inclinations, just as men do. Why sulk, and show ugly traits ? Let smaller creatures do that: he, Ralph Horton, would act the man, would hold his head up, and no one should see that
[264,]

THE OLD CHURCH

inner wound. His lacty-love and his successful rival

should not despise -him. He would show that he,

too, in his different way, had a strength which must

he respected. He would defy Ruel or her to pity

him: he would wear his mask during this visit; after

that, he would see her no more.

The table at which the preacher and the soldier

sat down to dine with the family of the Squire was

graced with the substantial array of home-raised

victuals once so common, now so rare in the South.

Served in the usual countrv stvle, the whole of it

t>

t/

3

was on the table at the beginning of the meal, so

that one's first mouthful could be taken with refer

ence to all that was to follow. The food did not

come to the guest, dish after dish, as .it does at one

of those formal dinings which most people praise in

public and heartily damn in private. Xo, the food

was all there at one and the same time: your plate

remained unchanged until you reached the pastry.

Thus, you could systematize your eating, and get

a dinner to suit ty- our individual taste. It has happened to me several times .in my life to

be arrested, convicted, and sentenced to dine in com

pany with other well-dressed convicts, male and

female, at a swell dinner--one of those formal func

tions where srlemn flunkeys bring you one thing,

only, to eat at a time. When you have pecked a

while at that one thing, whatever it may be, solemn

flunkeys take it away, and bring you another plate,

[265]

BETHANY
and some other one tiling to peck at a while. Some times it happens that this one thing is a big, defiantlooking tomato. To sit in one's chair, gazing at the last course which the flunkey has just put on; to realize that this entire course consists of a solitary tomato, looking fiercely red and raw; to glance along the table and to realize that all the convicts, male and female, have one tomato apiece, and are trying to look cheerfullvt, at the- convict boss--the host--has overwhelmed me every time it got the chance. The scene is heartrending.
And then the forced, unnatural conversation! The thin, dry, gray-headed old jokes, which go to all these formal dinners and seem to live in the pockets of the hideous dress-coat! And the dreadful " afterdinner speeches," with their prophylactic fluid wit --dear me! the onlv cold-blooded murders I have
4*
ever committed were due to this maddening in fluence.
There being no flunkeys'and no monkeys at Squire Roberts's, nothing but a neat negro girl to hand the dishes around, and sane folks to enjoy the good food, dinner did not last four hours, exhausting the com pany. It lasted about half an hour, and seemed to refresh all concerned.
Erect, clean-shaved, gravely polite, Ralph was the most striking figure at the board. The round, short body of the preacher, with the fat neck and the coarse brown-black beard, was at a disadvantage
[266]

THE OLD CHURCH
beside the spare, vigorous, shapely outlines of the soldier's chest, shoulders, neck and head. And while Ralph's was not the intellectual face, it was stamped with character. The steady blue-gray eyes were large, wide apart, and looked you full in the face. The mouth was firm, the chin strong, the teeth reg ular and white. Looking at him you would have said, " Here is a man to count on. If he is your friend he will die for you. If he is your enemy, let him alone. This man will not lie, nor shrink from any duty, nor run from any danger. He will do what he thinks is right: and no odds can turn him. If a woman can be content with a lover who is the full equal of the average man in mental capacity, and who is above the average in courage, loyalty and devotion to high manly principles--if she wants a man who would fight the whole world for her sake and lay his life at her feet--then let her lean on this man, for he is firm as a rock, and as true as tempered steel."
His arm was not worn in a sling that day. For the first time he had released it. But it had given him several throbs and twinges of pain; and when he took up his knife and fork and tried to cut the meat on his plate, he found that he could not.
Motherly Mrs. Roberts was at his side on the in stant, to do it for him.
If I had been the young preacher and had seen [367 ]

BETHANY
the look which came over Xellie's face then, I should have been troubled in my mind.
Blind soldier!
With a satisfied look, and a well-bred sigh of con tentment, the young preacher wiped his beard with his napkin; and Squire Roberts led the way to the parlor.
For an hour or more the conversation was gen eral, and more or less trivial, for Squire Roberts and his wife remained in the room, and the after-dinner languor had its usual influence.
Xellie was asked to play sacred music upon the piano, to cover the awkwardness of long gaps in the conversation. As she played monotonously and in differently, the preacher almost got his nap, and the Squire took a doze. Ralph gazed out of the window with that high, resigned, but resolute expression which gave to his commonplace features a certain distinction and individuality. He scarcely glanced at the dull-eyed, drowsy-faced preacher: he did .not look at the dozing Squire. He saw nothing, save a tall, dismal, old cedar-tree in the garden. Xothing else ? Yes: he saw the faires^ of all the maidens breaking a flower to pin on his lapel; and he saw the lovely face upturned to his--and the lips from which he had snatched a kiss.
Only a year had passed--one short year--but yet that little garden seemed a distant fairy-land, and
[268 }

THE OLD CHURCH
the tall cedar its sentinel. If he should now try to enter that enchanted realm, he would almost expect to hear the ominous sentinel cry " Halt!" It seemed a century ago since he had known the " open sesame " to the little gate.
" Tell us something about the war, Ralph! " It was the voice of Squire Roberts, whose little " cat nap " had restored him to liveliness. " Tell us all about the Bethany Guards, and the battles you have been in. Tell us about the big gen erals--Lee, Johnston, Beauregard, and Jeb Stuart! " The piano was closed, everyone turned to Ralph, and he began to talk of the war. He spoke of the ex periences of the Bethany Guards--the march, the bivouac, the battle, the joys and hardships of soldier life. He told how his comrade, Brown, had been wounded at Seven Pines; and how Emery had been killed at Savage Station; and how Smith had fallen in White Oak swamp. " Is it true," asked Ruel, now fully interested, " that Jeff Davis and Joe Johnston have had a fall ing out ?" " So it is said," answered Ralph. " The common report is that Johnston, who ranked Lee in the old army, resented the action of ]\Ir. Davis in putting Lee over him--claiming that it was not only unfair but illegal." " I understood," said Ruel, " that the Confeder ate Congress had resolved that officers in the old army
[2691

BETHANY

should hold the same relative rank in the Confeder

ate service as they had held in the old."

" So I am told, and there is the trouble. Lee was

a colonel in the old army, while Joe Johnston held

the rank of brigadier-general. They say that John

ston is not the kind of a man to forget a slight, and

it is believed that the feud will hurt our cause."

" It seems to me," remarked the preacher, " that

it is a pitv. Mr. Davis h4as taken it into his head that he is a military genius. He is trying to be both

chief-magistrate and general-in-chief. Under the

same delusion, the French people were about to be

completely ruined at the time Xapoleon took com

mand. He saved the country by refusing to be con

trolled by the government. Mr. Davis cannot con

duct war operations from his office, and he ought not

to trv."

.

V

Squire Roberts asked: " What should he do,

Brother Wade ? "

" If the war can not be successfullv conducted bv

**

V

some' competent general, some trained expert in the

man-slaughter profession," answered Ruel, " it can

not be done at all. Let Mr. Davis put the responsi

bility on his best officer, and give that officer elbow

room. The man and the occasion will meet under

that process, or we will never win. Xeither Lincoln

nor Davis can conduct campaigns by telegraph."

u What general would you start with, Brother

Wade ? " asked the Squire.

[ 270 ]

THE OLD CHURCH

" Well, it's none of my business, and my opinion

hasn't a feather's weight, but if I were President

Davis, I should keep down all feuds, carry out the

intentions of Congress, give Joe Johnston the rank

which belong to him, and sav to him in effect, c Sue-

V.

/

C/

s

ceed, or off goes your head.' Perhaps the unsatis

factory manner in which Johnston managed at Seven

Pines has deepened the feud."

" So. you have no prejudice against West Point ? "

asked Ralph, with, a slight smile.

" Xone whatever. I believe in education. What

is a West Point officer but a soldier who has been

educated ? This hue and cr*v- acgi? ainst West Point is all narrow nonsense. You will see that the West

Pointers will prove to be the best commanders on

both sides. Xapoleon himself was a West Pointer--

in that he was educated at a national military

school."

After a moment, Ruel asked of Ralph: " Is it true

that General Toombs showed the dominecker at Mal-

veni Hill ? " .

" It is not true," Ralph answered promptly.

" What occurred ; s this: General Toombs was bit

terly opposed to the way in which ]\Iagruder was

sacrificing the troops in reckless charges against

earthworks. Toombs's own brigade, at Labor-in-

vain Ravine, had been cut all to pieces, and he was

almost frantic about it. At Malvern Hill, when that

drunken Magruder ordered the charge, Toombs was

[271]

BETHANY

madder than ever; and he denounced the butchery

that was taking place. The West Point officers hated

Toombs because he was alwavs cursing them, and

t,

O

/

because he was not one of them. It mav be that e;

Toombs was screening his command as much as 'pos

sible, and was not eager to lead them again into the

jaws of death, as he had done more than once in the

campaign. At any rate, General D. IT. Hill came

along, was dissatisfied with the attitude of Toombs's

brigade, and shouted: * General Toombs, why don't

you lead your men on, sir ? You have been talking so

much about wanting to fight, .and now you have a

chance to fight, and you are skulking behind.'

" ' It's false, sir!' roared Toombs. ' I am rally

ing my men now to renew the charge, sir; and if I

come back alive you will hear from me again, sir.' "

" Did Toombs go in ? " asked Ruel.

" He surelv/ did;/ and when the battle was over he challenged Hill to a duel, but Hill declined. Toombs

talks more than he fights, but he's no dominecker,"

said Ralph emphatically.

" Dominecker ? " inquired Mrs. Roberts, puzzled.

Ruel good-naturedly explained: " The game

chicken fights--is bred for that purpose--and will

fight till he dies: the dominecker may fight a little,

but he is not kept for that purpose: he is kept for--

well, he is useful in other ways. But if he does fight,

it is but for a moment: he runs awatv, ,/ and will continue to run, and will squall with fear as long as any

[ 272 1

THE OLD CHURCH

other rooster has the will and strength to chase him.

"When you say that a man shows the dommeeker,

you mean that he is a coward."

" Speaking of that, I will tell you an incident of

one of our cavalry fights," said Uncle Ralph.

He had ordered his horse some time before, and

its reins were even now tied to the iron ring; in the V_x
big oak at the front gate. They all turned eager

faces

to

hear

his

storv </

of

the

war.

He said:

" Colonel William Deloney, of the Cobb Legion,

Hampton's cavalry corps, was down here in Georgia

last, summer. His home is in Athens, and while

there he recruited men and horses. One day an old

farmer, who was the colonel's personal friend, came

into town, sought him out, and said: ' Bill, my only

boy, John, has got the war fever, and being only sev

enteen years old, his mother and I have tried hard to

get it out of him, and to reason with him on the sub

ject, but he swears that if we do uot let him go he will

run away, and so we have determined that if you

will take him as a recruit to turn him over to you,

because, Bill, his mother and I would rather trust

him with you than anyone else/ The following day

was the time appointed for the colonel's return to

the army with his recruits, and bright and early the

old farmer, his wife, and John appeared before the

colonel. Approaching the latter the old man, with

husky voice, said: ' Bill, this is John; I have

mounted him on the best racing colt I have. Take

19

[ 273 ]

I

BETHAXY

him with you, old fellow--it's hard for us to part

with him--but, Bill, as he will go, I have this much

to say, if he ever shows the dominecker, don't ever

let him come back home to us.'

u The colonel was confronted by a tall, handsome,

fair-haired, slender youth of seventeen, standing

erect, his lips compressed, but a vivid fire flashing

from his steel-blue eves. The bov never said a word,

*.

c

J

but turning to his father and mother, he embraced

them tenderly, and went to Virginia to ' join the

cavalrtv, .' ' k llis friendship for the old people and their

tender solicitude for their onlvi/ bo*vs caused the colonel to watch over him, and his interest was soon re

warded t>y the rapid improvement and soldierly

bearing of the youth. But he had forgotten the part

ing injunction of the old man until one of Stuart's

great, cavalry fights.

" When squadrons were charging and counter

charging on that day, when the air was filled with

the roar of light artillery and the crack of the car

bine, General Pierce Young suddenly ordered

Colonel Delonev to attack a Federal brigade that

-

.

<--'

was rapidly forming upon the flank. ' Get right

among them, Bill! ' was the ringing command. ' Get

right among them, and break them up with cold

steel. Don't give them time to form.'

" The words were hardly spoken, when the glori

ous Cobb Legion--its commander, Delonev, far in

[274]

THE OLD CHURCH

advance--was sweeping, with glittering sabres, upon

the Federal arra\yj ;/ but before he was within one hundred feet of the enemy, something went by him

like a hurricane's breath--the Georgia boy, John,

was standing on tiptoe in his stirrups, bareheaded,,

his golden hair streaming in the wind, his sabre high

in the air; and, as he passed, on the fleet young

thoroughbred, with the light of battle in his

face, and eyes flashing defiance, he turned in his

saddle, and shouted, * Colonel, here's your domi-

/

7

/

/

necker! '

" Only a moment more, and the- heroic youth

struck the enemy's line like a cannon-shot, his fair

hair waving in- the thick of battle like a plume; his

blade flashing on every hand, right and left, until he

was literally hewn down bv the startled enemy.

f

*J

V

When the battle was over, Deloney looked for him

amid the piles of the dead and wounded, and finally

found him, mortally hurt and dying. The colonel,

choking with grief, bent over the dying boy, who,

rising on his elbow, his handsome young face glori

fied with the dying thought, a proud smile playing

upon his ashen lips, said, ' Colonel, tell pa I never

showed the dominecker.' "

"While my Uncle Ralph was relating this incident,

the spirit of the scene took possession of him. Un

consciously, he rose from his seat. The enthusiasm

of the soldier--a passionate sympathy for the heroic

mad-cap--blazed in his blue-gray eyes, and brought

[875]

BETHAKY
a rush of color to his cheeks. And his strong hands kept opening and clenching, as though he, too, were in the fight.
When he had finished, there was an unmistak able sob from Mrs. Roberts,J and Xellie's euves swam with tears.
The preacher broke the silence by saying in a low voice: " The old man had killed his son! "
" Precisely! " assented Uncle Ralph. " The boy took the remark as a taunt, and it goaded him to his death."
" The father could never have meant it so," urged Mrs. Roberts.
Ralph had not resumed his seat; and now it was time to go. He had " faced the guns," he had worn his mask bravely, but he had had enough. To be near the girl, and feel that her life no longer con cerned him, .was maddening. He must go away, and stav/ awa*v' . - Without shaking hands around, the soldier bowed 'to all, and said with grave courtesy, " I bid you all good-by."
As he rode off, soon lost to view at the turn of the road, Ruel Wade said, " If I am any judge, that's a fine young man. His brains will never set the rivers on fire, perhaps, but a stauncher, truer man, it would be hard to find."
Generous Ruel Wade! Xone but a big-hearted man would have said that, I am sure.
[276]

THE OLD CHURCH
Sqnire Roberts asked: " He got his wound at Malvern Hill, didn't he?"
" Yes. They say he was shot as he was leading a charge, with the colors in his hand."
" I thought Jim Moseley was the color-bearer of the regiment," said the Squire.
" Oh, but Moseley had been killed, I tell you. The colors went down with him, the men were badly scattered, and Ralph was the first to snatch them up and rush.forward with them."
" What colors do you mean ?" asked Xellie in a queer voice.
" I understand," answered Ruel, " that it was the flag of the --th Georgia Regiment, known at first as the --th Georgia Battalion."
" Why, Nellie," exclaimed her mother, " you ought to remember--you did most of the embroidery work on those colors yourself."
" I do remember," said the girl in a low voice. " I wonder when Ralph will go back to his com pany," remarked the Squire indifferently. " Seems to me it takes his arm a long time to get well." A flash of indignation shone for a moment in the young minister's eyes, but he spoke in his usual low tone when he answered : " He told me he would return to the armv" next week--though his arm, as you saw to-day, is not strong. Give me the Book. We will read a psalm, have prayer, and say good-night."
[ 277 ]

BETHAXY
What maiden is this, with white face, set in glossy black curls, who goes absently up the stairs, candle in hand, her great eyes vacant, as one who walks in sleep ?
Is it Xellie who falters toward her chamber door, with blanched lips which begin to tremble and. quiver ?
Is it Xellie who locks herself into her room, with quick, nervous fingers, and throws herself, undressed, upon the bed \
Is it Xellie who lies there, face downward, con vulsed with sobs--crying as. if her heart would break ?
It is Xellie.
Ancient house by the roadside, how dreary you look to me in these latter years! You had your tragedy. You almost seem to be some gloomy mau soleum, guarded from profane intrusion by the sen tinel cedar, and the weird silence which makes the frivolous afraid.
As I journey by, lingering at the turn of the road, I wonder to myself if the parlor looks as it used to look. Into whose ears, now, do the sea-shells murmur their song of the deep? And to whom went the autumn ferns and grasses which held, locked in their dainty keeping, the faded glories of that Indian Summer when Xellie was but a pretty girl, and Ralph but a dashing boy \
[2781

CHAPTER IX

TIRED OF THE AVAR

" GET the shot-gun, little man, and we'll go squir

rel hunting^^ ." It was Uncle Ralph speaking to me.

Away we went, through the grove, past the negro

quarters, along the path through the Langford field,

until we reached the creek swamp. It was a mile

from the house, and I reckon Uncle Ralph was tired,

for after he had strolled along by the creek awhile,

he sat down on a granite boulder to rest.

This ridge, or ledge of granite, ran across the bed

\

of the creek, and, as the water leaped over it, there

was the usual gurgle, and splash and ripple, which,

a stream makes in leaping from a higher to a lower

level. On a small scale, it was the music of the

cascade.

The gun lay on the leaves: Uncle Ralph drew one

knee up between his hands, leaned back, and began

to watch the tumbling water, the bubbles and the

rings--bubbles which other bubbles constantly dis

placed, rings which perpetually lost themselves in

other rings.

[ 279 ]

BETHANY
. j-

The woods were very still, and the gurgle and

splash of the leaping water rose and fell with curious

effect. As the current dropped over the ledge, nat

ural causes gave variation to its tones; and there

were times when the voices of the cascade were

almost human.

With jour eves closed and your fancy released,

you would have thought that a murmured conversa

tion was going on in the distance; and, once in a

while, the sound was that of silverv laughter.

'

i/'

C7

" Look, Uncle Ralph! Yonder's a squirrel! Shoot

him! Shoot him ! "

My uncle never moved. He saw the squirrel;

watched it run out upon a limb, into the afternoon

sun.

The beautiful creature, instinct with life, squatted

upon the limb and began to bark. We could see its

slender tail, vibrating, curving upward like a plume,

and jauntily tossing, with every merry bark which

the little creature gave.

" Shoot him, Uncle Ralph! "

" We will not murder any harmless creature

to-day, little man," he said.

The children of the cascade continued to laugh,

murmur, and whisper; the bubbles to swell and

burst; the rings to widen and break, and the flow-

- ing water to run by us on its old way to its ocean

home. Leaves were dropping from the trees.

Yellow poplar leaves, purple sweet-gum leaves,

[280 ]

TIRED OF THE WAR
tawny hickory leaves, crimson maple leaves--they fell slowly downward, with a sound like a sigh; and many of them entered languidly into the cur rent of the stream to seek with it the river and the
A perfect day of Indian Summer! The priest-like pine, secure in its never-fading vestments of green, towered haughtily above the blaz ing coronation robes of the .autumnal forest, whose opulence of color glowed but for a day. On every summit the red sugar-berry was flying its battle-flag. The golden maple stood in line with the brilliant red elm; and, more bewilderingly splendid than all, was the many-tinted beech. Toward every upper slope and ridge ran a serried skirmish line of purple dogwood and blood-stained sassafras. The sap-sucker and the yellow-hammer beat the tattoo on dead limbs; squirrels were barking in many a tree; the children of the cascade laughed and murmured and sang; and, besides these, there were no sounds save the whispers of the falling leaves as they came drifting down--like snow-flakes of radiant hue from skies which held no cloud. A partridge ran across the path, not thirty yards from us, and then another and another, until a covey of a dozen were huddled near the roots of a huge over-turned tree. " Quick, Uncle Ralph! You can get them all at one shot."
[ 281 ]

BETHAXY

He looked; he saw them; but this time he said

nothing.

He drew a long breath after awhile, roused him

self as if from sleep, and said, " Let's go to the house,

little man."

He had come into the woods, I think, just to get

away from everything and everybody. The quiet of

the forest was subtle physic. The very melancholy

of it all had its charm. In some of its moods, sad

ness becomes a luxury. And on that dav no music

it

U

could have ministered to the diseased mind so cun-

nlnsc^rlfv as the harmonies of the woods;/ nor anyi/ companionship been so congenial as that of the rich-robed,

but silent trees.

I fear that I was a badly disappointed little boy.

To go out squirrel hunting, to see the squirrels by the

dozen, to hear them barking all about like a parcel

of little fice, and yet kill no squirrels, seemed to me

a mighty poor business.

I would despise myself now, if I could derive

pleasure in the killing, for sport, of any living crea

ture : but it was all different then. I gloated over

mangled birds and stiff, glassy-eyed squirrels, just

as other savages did.

We, Uncle Ralph and I, were stroking at a leis

urely pace toward the Iiouse, as the red lancers of

the evening^im covered its retreat.

It was all very beautiful; and Ralph was stopping

[ 283 ]

TIRED OF THE WAR
to look, now on this-belt of woods, and now on that, stopping to drink in once again, as if for the last time, the loveliness of a scene which the frost would soon slav, and the winter entomb.
c/ /
As I waited for Uncle Ralph, impatient, perhaps, at these repeated halts, what should come hopping right across my path but a frog ? Xever have I seen a frog so earnest about anything as this one was. He saw nothing, he heard nothing; his concentrated mind and body were bent to the purpose of moving on. Mercy! how sober and serious and earnest he ap peared to be! Without a pause, without a glance at me, his bulging eyes fixed straight ahead, on he jumped, jumped, jumped, as if the salvation of the world depended upon it. All this I saw at a glance, and my astonishment at the rapt intensity which the frog was putting into his travels was no more than a thought, when I gave a scream, and jumped ten feet --be the same more or less--for, right on the track of the frog, and equally intent, equally oblivious to everything excepting the business in hand, there glided an immense black snake. I believe that he would have gone right over my foot with the same amazing indifference which had surprised me in the frog. The snake's whole mind and body were con,centrated in the resolution to catch the frog, just as the frog had postponed and dismissed every other earthly consideration excepting that of getting further off from that snake. The feet of small boys,--
[283]

BETHANY

the small bovs themselves, had no existence, for the

*J

/

s

"time, to either of the travelers. " Xeither snake nor

frog noticed me in the least.

My scream brought Uncle Ralph: and he wit

nessed the end of the chase. The snake caught the

tired frog, and prepared to take supper.

With one blow of a stick, Ralph killed the snake;

and the frog, which then hopped into the bushes and

there squatted, panting and palpitating, was, by all

odds, the happiest frog in Georgia on that night of

October, 1862.

When we got back to the house we found that Colonel Nat Crawley had dropped in upon us--on his way home, from the Legislature in Milledgeville. The old gentleman was full of the latest news and, after supper, he and my Uncle Ralph sat up late on the front piazza, talking earnestly about public af fairs. The colonel had taken no part in the secession movement; and was, in every sense of the word, a non-combatant,
" Well, Ralph," he said, " you see what the Geor gia Legislature has done: it has given first place as Senator to Ben Hill, whereas Toombs got the second bv a scratch."
v
" What does that prove, colonel ? " " It proves that the Union sentiment in this State has grown a great deal in the last year or so. If
[284]

TIRED OF THE WAR
Toombs and Yancey hadn't rushed the thing on our people, they -wouldn't have seceded."
" Maybe not," Ralph answered, " but if we had kept on whipping the Yankees in battle, Toombs would have been everybody's hero. People are get ting tired of the war--that is all."
" There's something in that," the colonel admitted. " We are like all Southern races, we can't keep up steam when defeat comes down upon us. The ISTorthern races have greater fortitude. How do the sol diers feel, Ralph, as to the outcome of it all ?"
" So far as I know, our soldiers' are full of confi dence. We believe that we can beat back any odds against us that do not exceed three to one. Man to man, we are the better soldiers. We can shoot better: we can ride better: and we have more heart in our work."
" How about Davis's government ? Do the sol diers put confidence in that ? "
" Well,"--Ralph hesitated--" the men in the ranks grumble a good deal. We think the Commis sary Department is wretchedly managed: and we think that the way in which our sick and wounded are neglected is a sin and a shame."
" There is much comment in the newspapers," re marked the colonel, " about ' drunken generals ' and ' brutal officers.' "
" The soldiers comment a good deal, too, on the same things," said Ralph.
[ 285 ]

BETHANY
" Does Bob Toombs drink much, Ralph ? We hear that he does ? "
" General Toombs is acting like a rnan who is throwing himself away. He is often drunk, and is cursing somebody pretty much all the time. But in battle he is superb." .
' Why/' exclaimed the colonel, " they fell it here that at Malvern Hill he hid behind a tree, and when jeered about it, answered, ' Bob Toombs is too portly a person to be exposing himself for the straps of a damned brigadier.' "
" Oh, that's all nonsense, colonel," replied Ralph warmlvi/ .
"Toombs didn? distinguish himself at ilalvera Hill, but he didn't do any hiding. Don't you know what he did at Sharpsburg ? "
" Xo, I don't. I heard that he quit the field be cause he got a wound in the hand."
" There it is again--some of his enemies misrep resenting him. If you will read General Lee's report of the battle, you will see that he praises Toombs in the highest terms. With two regiments, Toombs de fended the bridge over Antietam creek, repulsed five charges made by greatly superior forces, and then charged the enemy and put them to flight."
" That's enough! " cried the colonel. " When Robert E. Lee reports that Toombs was gallant and efficient, there's no more to be said."
" I will tell you what worries me most," contin[ 286 ].

TIRED OF THE WAR
ued "Ralph. " It is this dividing and bickering and
strife- among ourselves."
" Xow you're talking, my boy," agreed the colonel. *' But according to the newspapers, the Northern peo])lp are split up in the same way."
" Yes, but there is a difference. The Xorthern man who opposes the war and sympathizes with us, stavt s at home and takes his satisfaction out in cursing Abe Lincoln: whereas the Southern man who op posed secession and sympathized with the North, takes up his musket and goes to shooting at us."
" By George! " exclaimed the colonel, " I hadn't thought of that. And you are right, too. Half of Tennessee, half of Missouri, half of Kentucky, a third of Maryland, and even one-fourth of Virginia are feeding the Union lines with troops who are just as good as Bob Lee's."
" Don't leave out Georgia," said Ralph gloomily. '" The mountaineers of Xorth Georgia and of South Carolina are dead against us--and those men,will fight. I shouldn't wonder if a hundred thousand of the best men in the Union armies at this moment are true-blue Southern men;"
" Lincoln is managing the thing shrewdly, Ralph. His plea is for the L^nion: he says nothing about emancipation. Just after the battle of Bull Run, he had the Federal Congress pass a resolution de claring that the war was being waged simply to pre serve the LTnion, and that the Federal government
[ 287 1

BETHANY
had no intention of interfering with slavery. This kept the border states from joining us. But for that, Kentucky, Missouri, and Maryland would have seceded."
" With the help of those states we could easily win the fight beyond all doubt," exclaimed Ralph. " Does that resolution mean anything, colonel, or is it just politics ? "
" Politics, statecraft, diplomacy--call it what you will: it is a mere national soothing-syrup to keep the border quiet. If the Yankees whip us, slavery goes up the spout."
" I can't understand," said Ralph, " why the Southern people should not have been united when the question was one of Southern rights. How do you explain it, colonel I "
" Btv- sav- ins~: that the secession leaders went too fast. And had the Southern masses dreamt of such a conflict as this, Toombs and Yancey and Jeff Davis coiildnrt have led a corporal's guard out of the Union."
" Yes, you are right," said Ralph. " The people have changed: they are getting sick of the whole business. I looked over the Augusta Chronicle and Sentinel ro-day, and what do you suppose T saw ? "
" Have no idea--calls for more recruits ? " " Yes, there were several calls for more recruits, with the fiftvt -dollar bountv< offer added: but that was nothing. What shocked and disgusted me was
[ 288 ]

TIRED OF THE WAR

the number of deserters that were advertised, and

the number of men who were advertising for sub

stitutes."

.

The colonel lai-ghed rather mirthlessly.

" Why, Ralph, all the papers Xorth and South

are full of that. In the Savannah News I notice that

one fellow comes right out and offers to pay $1,000

for a substitute."

" Suppose," exclaimed Ralph, " suppose an able-

bodied Georgian had offered a year ago to hire an-

other man to take his place on the battlefield-----"

" He'd have been run out of the community," in-

terrupted the colonel emphatically. " But," he con-

tinned, " times have changed. The Confederate

Congress knocked all the enthusiasm out of the South

when it passed the Impressment Law and the Con-

scription Acts."

" But when volunteers ceased to come--" Ralph

began.

" The end had come," the colonel said.

" Ours was a movement whose strength was in its

enthusiasm, its popular character. "When the

people got sick of it, they quit volunteering; and

when they quit volunteering, there was the end of

the struggle. The people started out to set up a

new government: they found the job bigger than

they expected: and then they wanted, to quit fight

ing. They wanted peace. They had a right to it.

Jeff Davis and his cabinet had no moral right

20

[2891

, .j
\ [I
jj p
j! f jj jj ;i . ;;

';

BETHANY

to keep up the war a day longer than the people

wanted it.'1

u Why, what could Davis have done ? "' inquired

Ralph in astonishment.

" He could have made peace too quick to talk

about.

It was easv/ .

Even now he could do it, at



*

the drop of the hat. Abe Lincoln would he only too

glad to put a stop to the war. We could go back into

the Union to-morrow with no grievous humiliation,

and with no irreparable losses."

" How about this Emancipation Proclamation ? "

asked Ralph.

The colonel answered, " That is merely a war

measure. It dues not go into effect till next Janu-

arvt> . If we return to the Union before then it does not go into effect at all. Even if the negroes had to

be .set free, I believe that we could get full pay for

them, if we were to make peace now."

" It would be a bitter pill to swallow," said Ralph.

" The Yankees would crow over us forever. The

negroes would be unbearable. When the old set dies

off, and the new generations come on, the South

would never know another day of safety or peace.

Rather than submit to Xorthern tv, rannvi- and necgrro equality, I believe I would choose to die, musket in

hand. I would say, as Bartow said at IManassas,

' They have killed me, boys, but never give it up !

" Ah, you are young, Ralph. Your blood is hot

TIRED OP THE WAR
and your pride high. But I've been here a long time, and I'll tell you that it will not do to yield to hot temper and unreasoning pride. Submission is some times a 'stoop to conquer' with nations as with in dividuals. The fight had to come between Jeffer son's doctrines and those of Hamilton. It has come, and the sooner it is over the better. Jefferson's re public is as dead as Xicodemus! "
" Colonel, are you so sure that the Xorth will whip us I You are taking it for granted, just as if it had already happened."
" By no means, Ralph. Xothing is certain in war. Generally the heavy battalions win; but not always. What I mean is that no matter which side gets whipped, the Hamilton doctrine of centralism, im perialism, and class-rule will be on top."
" Why, how is that, colonel ? If we establish our independence, the Southern Confederacy will be a Jeffersonian republic."
" Xot by any means, Ralph. Jeff Davis has al ready overstepped the Constitution of the Confed erate States; and the tendency of his government toward arbitrary rule is very evident- He is putting the Constitution under foot, just as Mr. Lincoln is doing; and the advantages gained by centralism during the war will never be given up by either gov ernment. At the time Ben Hill knocked William L. Yancey in the head with that ink-bottle, in the Con federate Congress, Yancey was vainly trying to re-
[ 291 ]

BETHANY

sist the undemocratic measures of the Davis gov

ernment."

" Was Yancey much hurt ? " asked Ralph.

" He was struck on the temple just as he was

taking his seat, and the blow stunned him. Hill was

standing some ten or fifteen feet away, and had

thrown the large, heavy ink-stand with all his

might."

" What was the row about ?"

" There had been angry debate between the two,

and the lie had been passed. It seems pitiful that

the two great Southern leaders--Yancey and .Toombs

--should have been so much dwarfed bv/ the revolu-

tion they set in motion. Yancev is in Alabama.

c/

o

J

dying, a disappointed man, while Toombs is nothing

but a brigadier, chafing at his impotence, and drown

ing in drink the genius he used to glory in."

'" Colonel, your talk almost gives me the blues.

Shall we not go to bed ? "

- " Yes, we will turn in. I wish I could see things

differently, but I can't. Hell might have jubilated

on the dav- when that Dutch vessel unloaded the first cargo of niggers at Jamestown.. They have cursed

the South: they will vet curse the Xorth. It will take

/

f

all the sustaining, coercive and propelling power of

the white race to keep the blacks of this country from

going back, as they-have done in Hayti, to barbar

ism, to serpent worship, to human sacrifice, to can

nibalism--under the despotic sway of the Voodoo

drum!"

CHAPTEE X
AS WAR LOOKED TO US AT HOME
THE strain of the war was beginning to tell upon our people.
They were dnmfoimded to. see how desperately the Xorth persisted in the purpose to conquer us. As the time rolled on, and the Union armies constantly grew larger, the wonder and anxiety of the South intensified.
At first, only a few, such as Mr. Stephens, had believed that there would be any war. The great majority scoffed at the idea. For a long while, we felt, assured that our brethren of the ISTorth would re fuse to let. the fanatics drive them into an armed invasion of the South.
Even to this day there seems to be something mon strous about it, something abnormal, something mys terious. It is one of those historical happenings that was incredible until it happened.
The fact that they were willing to deluge the land with blood to forcfc us back in the Union will for ever be the best proof that our leaders were right
[ 293 ]

B ETHANY
when they told us that the Union was so organized, and the policy of the government so managed, that the Xorth eternally gets the best of the bargain.
To the impartial reasoner it will always seem in disputable that the Northern States would have " let the erring sisters depart in peace," had it not been a fact that the Southern States were merely rich prov inces from which Xorthern capital drew tribute. The loss of these fertile fields, which the Xorth ex ploits by federal legislation, could not be afforded. Xew England would have reverted to the desert from which Southern tribute helped so materially to rescue her. The Xorthern manufacturer would have lost his best customer. Better to keep "the South in the Union, where she was the helpless victim of the Xew England commercial system, than to allow her to set up a separate government which could build tariff walls of its own. When all is said and done, this was the milk in the cocoanut. Xorthern capital would not have allied itself to abolitionism and the policy of coercion had it not been for reasons com mercial.
Xew England wealth never saw the day it could continue its growth if bereft of the power to plunder the agricultural sections of the Union. Xational legislation had given her this power; and she had no intention of resigning it. Hence her refusal to " let the erring sisters depart in peace."
[394]

AS WAR LOOKED AT HOME

It was lonesome on the old homestead in those

war-times.

It looked like " everybody gone from home." The

pressure of privations and hardships began to be felt.

There was no more coffee and white sugar: no more

white writing-paper: no more elegant shoes, hats, and

cloth. Silver and gold "hid out." We used coarse

home-made paper, coarse home-made shoes, coarse

home-made hats. Our coffee was home-made, too.

We parched wheat, or meal, or potatoes chipped into

small cubes: the liquid made from these, when

boiled with water, was Confederate coffee. Our cur-

rency was home-made, too. There was plenty of it,

such as it was.

The spirit of the songs had changed. They no

longer breathed hope, confidence, martial enthusi- -

asm. Their tone was that of defiant endurance. The

martyr-plaint made itself heard. We began to glorify

the patience with which we endured.

.

We couldn't get new silks, satins, worsteds, and

calicos, nor beautiful stylish hats: we put up with

palmetto head-gear, and garbed ourselves in rough

unlovely homespun cloth.

So the patriotic bare1 voiced the sentiments of the

people in the lines which everybody began to sing:

"My homespun dress is plain, I know, My hat's palmetto, too,
But then it shows what Southern girls For Southern rights will do."
[295 ]

, '
| f

B ETHAXY

The song had the true ring, you see, but vet it

carried a consciousness of sacrifice. It was the pre

lude to the songs which were to have the sadder

melodv of martvrdom.

c/

c.

Most of the able-bodied men were in the army.

As a rule, you would have found, in the villages, no

one excepting the preacher, the doctor, the enrolling

officer, the county officials, and the grayl>eards. Out

in the country the miller was exempt, and so was

the farmer who would superintend a certain number

of plantations, the owners of which were in the

ranks.

As a rule, the Southern man who was capable of

bearing arms, and who was not embraced in some of

the exemptions,- enlisted. Some hired substitutes,

but, after a while, all had to go.

The soldier who came home wounded was a hero.

In every way possible the people, old and young,

male and female, gave him proof of their apprecia

tion, sympathy and admiration.

'The maimed soldier was himself proud of his

wounds. His scarred breast or empty sleeve gave

him higher rank in the hearts of thf people than any

title could have done.

The negroes managed the farm, the work being

done under black foremen, whom my grandfather

had trained to his methods. The war made no dif

ference in them that I could see. We were not

afraid. If my mother felt uneasy any night, she

[ 396]

AS WAR LOOKED AT HO ME

would have West, or Jim, bring his blanket and his

axe, and sleep outside the door in the piazza. Xo

black terror in those davt/ s. It was the patriotic duty of our old men, tlie gray-

beards, to keep alive tbe courage and confidence of

the people.

It was the lightest of tasks at first. Then it be

came the heaviest. But the graybeards did their

dutv. I can testifv to the faithfulness with which

C,

/

they toiled to keep up our spirits. Out of the small

est of crumbs of comfort, they would bake us corpu

lent loaves. Everv little victorious skirmish became u
a glorious triumph for Southern valor.

All honor to the Southern graybeards! To the

very last, they were constant., hoping against hope,

comforting the widow and the orphan, attending the

sick and the wounded soldiers--doing everything

that good old men could do.

Fine old fellows! How courageously they wore

cotton trousers, dyed sky-blue, copperas yellow, or

bay-mule brown!

And how wonderfullv these cotton breeches could t:
behave themselves--twisting into a1! sorts of irregu

lar curves; bagging where other breeches were tight;

tight where other breeches bagged; inclining always

to get away from the ankles of the patriarchs, and

to leave the knit socks in a state of unseemly ex

posure.

At what time the Seven Years7 Itch happened

[297 1

BETHAXY
along, I do not now remember, but I testify that it came.
Do.I not recollect, as though it were yesterday, how my mother used to stand me up before the fire place every night at bedtime, " stripped stark naked "; and how she would smear me all over-- back, flanks, front--from head to heel, with a fear ful mixture composed of hog lard and tar and sul phur and other nasty old things; and then sack me up in something, and pack me away in the bed, where I lay like a pig in a gritty, grimy, filthy wallow ?
Ah, how we haunted the post-office at mail time! How we yearned for letters, yet dreaded them! What griefs came every day with these letters--sol diers srtricken with disease, soldiers torn with wounds, soldiers dead on Virginia battle-fields.
We could follow dimly the progress of the great war: the rise and fall of commanding generals: the ebb and flow of the tide of success. We could almost see the kind faces of the Virginia ladies as they fed our hungry fathers and brothers at tables, which were loaded all day and half the night; and where batch after batch of tattered, tired, famished men would feast, give heartfelt thanks, and march on. Yes, and we could see the compassionate faces of these good women, bending over the cots in the hos pitals where our sick and wounded were stretched in pain; and in our homes in Georgia we blessed them from our souls, as our loved ones there did bless them.
[298]

AS WAR LOOKED AT HOME
When you would know the cause for the peculiar and reverent love which the lower Southern States bear to Virginia, do not fall into the error of thinking it has anything to do with her long line of Presi-. dents, or her trumpeted list of F. F. V.'s. Xo; we love old Virginia because she fed us when we were hungry, nursed us when we were sick, and stanched our wounds when the lifeblopd was oozing awavt, .
I well remember the datv/ when the news of Malvern Hill came to Bethanvt/ . There was a voice of lamentation throughout the village, so great had been the loss of life on that bloody field. I was at
V
the post-office, on father's bobtail gray horse, waiting for the mail.
There was no letter for us, and when I reported at home that there was none, poor old grandfather broke down. His weather-beaten face worked with the tremors that run before tears, and he turned to my mother, saying in a broken voice, " Martha, P.eter is'dead. I know it: I feel it: I can see him lying dead on the field "--and the old man cried pitifully.
Peter, the older son, was not dead: after a time he came home: but he was bent double with rheuma tism; his legs were stiff as posts; and he never walked again. He had been with Stonewall Jack son on that terrible forced march to Romney.
[ 299 1.- .

BETHANY
Had we known that my Uncle Ralph had fought at Malvern Hill, he would have shared my grand father's tears, but we thought he was at Richmond, sick with measles.
Father being dead, Uncle Ralph in the army, and grandfather almost an invalid, my mother had to depend upon me a great deal, so far as relations with the outside world were concerned.
The old bob-tailed gray horse, Charley, which had been my father's saddle and buggy horse, was as gentle and as stiff as he could be, and I was not a bit afraid to ride him. My legs were too short to reach the stirrups, so the stirrup-leathers of my father's old saddle were shortened until the iron stirrups were not half-wa*v down the leather skirts. Then somebodtv. would lift me and place me on. I must have been a comical sight; such a small boy on such a big gray horse. People would stop to look at me, as I soberly jogged to and fro on mother's errands; and they would guy me in a mild, good-natured fashion. " Buddie, does your head swim ? " The favorite comparison likened me to a frog sitting on a tussock. I think a thousand men, women and children told me that was what I looked like. The opinion was unanimous, and it must have been so. . However, there was no sting in all this. It was not unkindly meant or taken. I felt that everybody was friendly. The time was yet a long
[300]

AS WAR LOOKED AT HOME

wav f

off

when

I

would

know

what

it

was

to

have

enemies. '

.

So, old Charley and T became local celebrities, in

a small way. Everybody knew me: everybody knew

old Charley. Often one or the other of the gray-

beards in Bethaniv/ would come and chat with me kindly, while we were waiting for the mail, and

would tell me some incident of my father's life, or

relate some anecdote, illustrating the sagacity or the

gentleness of old Charley. They would pat the good

horse on the shoulder, or smooth and straighten his

foretop under the brow-band, or softly rub his nose.

There never was a better horse than old Charley.

Sometimes mother would give me a bolt of home

spun cloth to carry to Mrs. Fuller, who did the dye

ing for the neighborhood.

" Xow, Bobbie," she would say, " tell Mrs. Fuller

to dye this piece perfectly black," and away we

would go, old Charley and I.

The Fuller women would be at their tubs, out in

the yard.

" Good-evenin', Missis Fuller! " I would call.

" Here is a bolt of cloth mother wants you to dye

for her, please, rna'am."

" What color, Buddie ? " ~

" She says she wants it perfully black, please, ma'am."

Mrs. Fuller and the girls would laugh; and would answer:
[301]

BETHANY

" All right, Buddie, it shall be dyed perfully

black/' and they would all laugh some more.

" Good-by, Missis Fuller," I would say, and then

old Charley and I would jog along home.

Every now and then I was sent to Squire Rob

erta's on some little matter or other, and, whenever

I was there, I would beg Miss Xellie to play on the

piano for me. She always did so. I listened with

such rapt attention that, perhaps, she considered me

her favorite audience. At any rate, I gave my whole

soul to the music when she was plavin<r, and if anv

JL ,

c~

v

one in the room tried to talk to.me then, it annoved

i

7

/

me wonderfully. I never could enjoy music in a

room full of gabblers. Melody and silence must be

sisters, I think.

Miss Xellie was quick to realize my passion for

music; and it came to pass that when she was to

play for me, she would lock the parlor doors.

" Xow we won't be disturbed, little man," she

would sav and she would begin to plav.

O'

I_-

J.

K/

She would never try any frivolous, jig-a-jig stuff

when let alone. She could rattle it off, if some

person in the room who liked that kind of thing

called for it, but she had no fondness for it. The

nielodv she loved had soul in it. And a? she played

/

J.

\j

for me, moving on from piece to piece, it seemed to

me that I entered another world--a higher, a purer,

a brighter world.

Xever did I say to her at the end of any piece,

[ 302 ]

AS WAR LOOKED AT HOME

" that was sweet," or " that was grand "; the feel

ings she roused in me could not be expressed in that

simple way, if expressed at all.

Nowhere else did I hear the class of music with

which she intoxicated me: nobody else that I knew

had her genius for musical expression. As I sat near

her and listened to her favorite selections, I felt a

purifying breath, a lifting upward of the mind and

heart, which it would be impossible to describe.

It seemed to me that if I could always listen to

inspiration like that, always be elevated and purified

like that. I should dwell forever amid holv thoughts,

/

*,

C

7

and never touch again the muck and mire of sordid

life. Yes, I confess it! while under the spell of

this divine melody, I felt vague, yearnings for the

better life, the crude longing to do something good

and great, the infinite aspiration to enter the

company of the noble martyrs to duty, who have

given their lives to the effort to uplift the human

race.

" Dreaming, little man ? "

It was Miss Nellie who spoke: she had now ceased

to play. I had been dreaming, I suppose. Very

much of a dreamer is anyone who hopes to dwell

often, or long, up on the summits to which I had been

'lifted.

^

" Miss Nellie," I asked seriously, "do you get all

that music out of your books, or do you make up

some of it in your head I "

[ 303 ]

BETHANY

She laughed merrily. The question both amused

and flattered her.

" \Yhat a funnv little bov you are. ]><>bbio. Do

*,

*,

/

you think that I can make music in my head '. "

" Whv*,./ ve/> s, I do. Thevt, satv- *y. ou can even write poetry, and anyone who can do that can do anything,

almost."

It was good to hear her peals of laughter: it was

sweeter than the gurgle of water, or the song of

binls.

" I sav, Miss Xellie, let me see some of your

i/ 7

/

t

poetry."

Still 'laughing, she went to the book-case, opened

a little drawer in the writing-desk division of that

huge piece of furniture, and took out a thin volume,

covered in red velvet and stamped in gilt. It was

one of those little album-books, filled with blank

leaves of fine paper, which every young lady coveted

before the war. Books of this description were de

signed to contain sentimental things young ladies

might wish to write, or might induce their friends to

write.

Xellie held the volume, and allowed me to read

several little bits of rhyme which I considered ex

quisite. u To the mocking-bird," " To the first

snowdrop." and so forth. I noticed that she picked

her- way with some care through the book, not show

ing me every page, and holding many.of the leaves

firmlvtf tog<^_, ether,j as if somethingi were hid there.

[304]

AS WAR LOOKED AT HOME
As I was going out to get upon old Charley and start home, who should be coming in but the hand some preacher, Ruel Wade ? She greeted him pleas antly; and they both stood looking at me as I pre pared to mount.
Ordinarilv, when no .o1 ne lifted me,. old Charley.
had to be led by the bridle to some high stump, or to a fence, from which elevation I could get into the saddle.
" Let me put you up, Bobbie," cried the preacher. He took me with one hand by the arm, and with the other by the sent of my breeches, and he swung me up as though he had been hoisting small boys all his life.

21

[ 305 J

CHAPTER XI

A LIEUTENANT

OXE day it fell to my Uncle Ralph's hick to get a letter from home. Grandfather's palsied hand was past writing now, but he could make known to mother what to sav. and she would write.
e, 7
In this particular letter, after having written the usual and natural things which grandfather indi cated, she added a word of her own. As this por tion of the letter concerns us, and the other does not, I will quote it:

" DEAE BROTHER--It is so lonesome here at home

that I made Wilson hitch up old Charley last

Sundav and Bobbie drove me to Bethanv. When

,' /

t,

we walked into the church there was a big crowd, for

I soon learned that it was Ruel Wade's last sermon

here. He has been called to one of the big city

churches in Atlanta. After services there was a gen

eral hand-shaking and saving of farewell. Manv of

^7

t,

~

t/

the sisters broke down and cried. Ruel himself was

very solemn, and seemed very sorry to leave us.

Squire Roberts and Mrs. Roberts and Xellie all told

[306]

A LIEUTENANT
him good-by about the same time I did. It was an affectionate farewell, but I own that T was surprised to see him part from Xellie in that way in public, the same as if she was no more to him than any other dear friend. And her manner to him was no more than that. All the way home I was thinking about, it. If they are engaged to be married he wouldn't have parted from her like that. As sure as you are born, somebody has been telling stories.
" We have all jumped at conclusions, and T be lieve that we have been wrong. I do not know whom Xellie loves. She may not love anybody. But I would almost take my Bible oath that she is not now in love with Ruel Wade. Some of the neigOhbors safy that he made love to her and that she kicked him: some sa.v1, it never went so far as that. I don't know how it is.
" If I was a young man, and in love with Xellie, I would not take ' Xo ' from any lips but hers.
" So no more at present from " Your affectionate sister, " MARTHA A. HOETOW."
" Why, hello! what's the matter with Ralph ?" exclaimed his friend Cullars. For mv uncle had pulled off his cap, had thrown it up: in the air, and had yelled like a Comanche Indian. The open letter shook in his hand.
" Gone crazy, Ralph ? "
[307]

BETHANY
. For reply, my uncle caught his friend in his arms, lifted him as though he were a child, hugged him hard and close, and said, half laughing, half crying:
" Good news, old man! Good news from home! I'm as happy as a king! "
T combs Cullars was a gentleman, no matter how rough his ways might seem, and he now said nothing more than : " God bless you, Ralph ! It's good to hear you laugh again. I reckon I know how it is, and you'll want to be to yourself," and off he went, whistling The Girl I Left Behind Me."

Ruddy and strong was my Uncle Ralph when he

srot home on furl ouch in the earlv davs of 13fi3.

^

CT

t

,

There was light in his face, there was springiness in

his step. And in my eyes he was handsomer than he

had ever been,- for I was carried awavt- with that lieutenant's uniform he wore.

We met him at the cars in Bethany; and there

was the ctistomarv crowd of old men and anxious t,
women, waiting for the mail. They gathered around

my uncle, and for an.hour he had to answer ques

tions about husbands, sons and brothers. Squire

Roberts was there, as he was everv dav, and mv

J

t,

c7

,-

uncle was particularly polite to him. It seemed to

me that the Squire was considerably impressed by

Uncle Ralph's new uniform, and by the title of

" Lieutenant Horton," which some cf the old men

gave him.

[308 ]

A LIEUTENANT
How we did push old Charley going home! He seemed to creep. I think we made him gallop. My uncle sorter blushed as he shook hands with mother; but he was feeling so good that he laughed, too. And how warm and reverent was his greeting to his father! The old man fairly shed tears of joy. I think he had never seen anything in his life that was so glorious in his eyes as that son of his, clad in his. lieutenant's uniform.
His boy, his favorite boy, the Benjamin of his old age, wearing the proof of his merit, won not. by favor, but by gallantry upon the field of battle!
Indeed, grandfather was proud that day.. It was a cold but clear afternoon: no wind was blowing, and there would be a moon. Every attention having been paid to the home-folks, my uncle now feels free to go on a mission of his own. His bay i* at the door,j and,/ with a shvt. look at miv/ mother,/ he draws on his cloak, buckles his spur, and steps out into the yard. In a minute the hard ground rings to the gallop of the horse; and T listen as it grows faster and faster. I can hear the sound turn in to the south, half a mile away, where the cross roads lead down to the piney-woods. It grows fainter and fainter, and then in the distance it is lost. I know very well where that cross-road goes, and I know where the swift ride will end.
" Guess who has come back from the army," called
[309]

BETHANY
out Squire' Roberts to his wife and daughter, as he entered the sitting-room that evening on his return from Bethany.
" Sam Lokey ? " asked Mrs. Roberts. " Xo, not Sam. Guess again." " Pres Morris ? " " Xo, not Pres. He is Longstreet's courier, you know, and I do believe he would rather stay with Longstreet than to come home. Guess again." " Peter Short ? " " Xo, Peter stutters too bad ever to tell them he wants a furlough. They'd imagine he wanted some thing else. It's Ralph Horton that's come home, and he's a lieutenant. Who'd a thought that wild young fellow would have gone up like that ? " " Why,' honey," said his wife, " Ralph was no wilder than lots of others;' and thev*, alwavf s did satv, he would fight. The army gave him just the chance he needed." The Squire answered: " It isn't every man who would fight before the war that has made a good sol dier. I hear 'em satv, that Bill Dukes,/ the bullvt, of the Panhandle district, that had whipped his weight in wildcats many a time, is a perfect dominecker in the army. Whenever there is a battle, Bill gets sick, and stays sick till it's over. That's what T hear 'em sav,- ." " Well, let's have supper," said Mrs. Roberts. " Xellie, you go see to it, child."
[ 310 ]

A LIEUTENANT
ISTow, I half suspect that the good old mother was not so much concerned about the supper as she pre tended to be. I half suspect that she Was offering Xellie the chance to escape notice and to be alone. Did not that motherly soul know by intuition how her daughter felt ? Had she not seen those swollen eyes and held the aching head on her maternal breast ? Had she not divined Xellie's secret, and had she not whispered many a night, " Don't cry, Xellie--it will all come right."
Yes, indeed, Mrs. Roberts knew. So she settled herself by the side of the Squire, and made him tell her the news. What had he heard in Bethany, and what had Ralph said about this one and that one, and so on, till Xellie had had her little respite all to herself, and was ready to say, in a voice that was fairly . steady: " Come to supper! " The meal was not over, Xellie tasting nothing, when her quick ear caught the sound of galloping hoofs. Who had said that Ralph was coming? Had there been letters, back and forth, or messages sent and answered \ I do not know. But this I know --she had no sooner caught the sound than she rose and left the room. " Why, Xellie hasn't finished her supper. Where's she going ? " began the Squire. But the good old wife had a way of managing the
[ 311 ]

BETHANY

Squire, and she never used it with more promptness

and effect than upon this night.

Soon they were comfortably seated by the fire in

/

V

(/

their room; and she was listening with admiring at

tention and absorbed interest to many things which

she had long known and which she could have told

better than the Squire.

The headlong ride ends at the old tree where the iron ring is nailed. The reins are fastened quickly; and then, with one hurried glance at the house, where bright lights shine through the windows, Ralph walks to the gate.

Who is it that sits on the lowest step of the porch, waiting ? Who is it that rises, as he enters the yard, and comes down the walk to meet him \ The moon light embraces and glorifies her, there's a shimmer of silver on her coal-black hair, and a halo about her queenly head, and in her eyes a light from the inner world.
When she first stood up, he was startled: he could not know her in the shadow of the house; but as she came down the walk, in the full radiance of the moon, his arms flew open, and there was a glad cry, with almost a sob in it.
" Xellie! " He caught her in his arms. The curls were on his breast, and:
[312]

A LIEUTENANT
" Oh, Ralph, I know now that I love you! " she whispered as he covered her with kisses.
He led her to their garden-seat under the cedar, put his cloak about her, and there he explained all. ' With passionate self-condemnation, he told how he had been deceived, how he had honestly mis understood, how he had convinced himself that she was lost to him, how he had accepted his fate, believ ing himself helpless.
" But, Xellie, I should never have gotten over it. I would have lived and died your lover. From afar off, I should have worshipped you till my last breath."
Happy soldier ! Happy maiden ! On this night, if on no other, drink the nectar that is divine! For after all is said and done, life holds nothing more precious than youth and love. .
And, reader, whenever you shall have found the soul which responds to yours, go, give thanks to the gods, and prize your treasure as a miser his gold: for not another soul in all your life-journey, whether friend or brother or child, will be wholly yours, de voted, be-fore all, to you.
Crowding millions are around you, but out of them all you may expect not more than one to love you for yourself, sometimes in spite of yourself, with perfect self-sacrifice, with patient, loyal, inspiring love.
To anv<, true wife anv/ true husband mav!, saiv/ : " In all the universe we stand alone--we two.
[ 313 ]

BETHANY

Friends "will fail us: children come into our lives,

and pass on--to find those whom they will love

better, even as vou and I did, mv dear.

7

t>

7

t/

" Others will tire of me: fyou will not Others

will be cold to me when I most need their warmth:

you will not. In the day when the clouds droop low,

and the wind blows out of the East,/ it is iv' ou,* dear-- not another!--who will put your arms about my

neck, lay your cheek against my own,, and whisper

the words which give me consolation.

" Kiss me, dear: and my shortcomings--forgive

them, oh, forgive! "

Eor, mark it, reader, there is within the heart and

soul of the best woman a purity and a heroism which

no man ever possessed; and, beside the best of wives,

even the best of husbands will repeat with bitter

self-reproach, the publican's prayer of " God, be

merciful to me, a sinner! "

As Ralph and Xellie entered the room where the Squire and Mrs. Roberts were sitting, the old gentle man looked up in considerable surprise, for his pretty daughter had her arm within Ralph's, and both of them were unusually high-colored about the cheeks.
The soldier's frankness, the good mother's tact, and Xellie's occasional word were not a great while in getting the Squire mentally adjusted to the situa tion. If he still held any part of his former objec-
[ 314 ]

A LIEUTENANT tion to Ralph as a suitor, lie was not prepared to offer any stiff combat in the teeth of Ralph's fine record, and the combined resources of Xellie and her mother.
Barring Ralph's dissipations, there had been no reason, at any time, why the alliance with him should not be a good one: and now that he had sowed his wild oats, and proved himself a man to be proud of, why------
Thus, you see how the engagement became a matter of course. It requires stouter stuff than the Squire was built of to put up a winning fight against lover, sweetheart and old lady combined.
It was late when the soldier rose to go, Nellie went with him to the gate; stood there while he un hitched his horse; stood there till he rode up, bent down--and so, Good-night, Good-night!
As Isellie parted with her mother that night, she hugged her warm and close, and whispered, " Mother, you have been so good to me," and she took the wrinkled face in her soft, white hands and kissed it, kissed it, until the furrows were well-nigh gone, and the lost roses of youth back again.
[315]

CHAPTER XII

"GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART"

IT had been a beautiful winter's evening. The

cold was invigorating, for the air was crisp and dry.

In a setting of glossy green leaves, the holly ber

ries glowed like coral. The magnolia held out to

the songless mocking-bird its red-seeded cone, and

the quarrelsome blue-jay greedily devoured the black

cherries upon the wild laurel.

The crested redbird brought his sober-tinted mate

to peck at the burrs of the arbor-vitse, and the native

swamp-sparrow, with his loud " click, click," sought

his roosting-place in the scuppernong vine.

Lieutenant Ralph and Xellie had promenaded in

the grove, in the flower-garden, in the piazza, talking

over old times, recalling every treasured reminis

cence. Instinctivelv, thev had avoided the future.

t, 7

t,

Deep down in their souls they dreaded to look ahead.

Separation, suspense, the perils of the march, the

camp, the field, the heart-sickness of perpetual fear

for months to come--all. this was in flic mind of

each; and Xellie, particularly, was sadly depressed,

for this was the evening her lover was to say good-by.

[ 316 ]

"GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART"

During each day of his brief furlough, he had spent

part of it with her. They had been happy days.

And,} oh.7 how swiftlyv the limit had been reached! There was many a gap in the conversation. The

voices would die away: the eyes would dreamily

wander off to vacancvt/ .' as the mind was lost in those unutterable wanderings so common to this tragedy

we call life. Dim shadows crept between them and

the stars: vague forebodings tempered the cup of

their bliss.

" Come, sing me some songs, some of the good old

songs," he said at last, and they went into the parlor.

A hickory-wood fire glowed fervently on the

hearth, and every now and then, there was heard a

succession of stifled little explosions from the burning

pile.

.

" The fire is popping snow," Ralph remarked.

" There were some low gray clouds as we came in."

" But it doesn't always snow when the fire has been

popping that way," she answered absently. " " In

the summer whenever papa sees lightning in the

north, he says it is going to rain, but the sign often

fails."

" It is like the nose-itching sign of my sister

Martha," . went on Ralph. " "Whenever her nose

itches she never fails to exclaim, as she rubs vehe

mently, ' Somebody's coming'; and her faith.in the

sign is not to be shaken. If some one comes within a

week, the ' sign ' has been vindicated."

[317]

BETHANY

" What shall I play for you, Ralph ? " she asked,

turning to the piano.

" Play any of your favorites. Anything in the

way of music is good to me. When it comes to that,

I'm as easily pleased as a child."

" Is that meant for my encouragement ? " she in

quired with a shade of a smile on her pensive face.

" Oh, now, Xellie, vou know what I mean. Music

s

/

/ t/

is good, better, best with me:.there is no bad music."

" But most good music is very melancholy, some

how," she said reflectively.

" ' Dixie ' isn't -a bit melancholy," he contended.

" But is l Dixie ' really good music ? " she asked

with the same shade of a smile.

" Why of course it's really good music, Xellie,

Whenever we boys in the army hear ' Dixie,' it sets

us wild and we feel like we could storm hell! Ex

cuse me, Xellie."

" Well, then," she said demurely, " I will admit that * Dixie' is good music, just as ' Home, Sweet Home' is good poetry and music combined/' .
" Certainly it is," he assented warmly. " i Home, Sweet Home' is the best kind of poetry and music. Why, let me tell you something."
Then he told that story of Sharpsburg: how the two armies, after their bloody battle, were resting on--their arms, the Antietam separating them; a Sab bath silence, with a thousand recollections of the day
[3181

"GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART"
and its home associations softening every heart: how the regimental bands of the two armies were rivalling each other in the playing of favorite airs: how u Dixie " was given amid " rebel yells " on one side, and *' The Star-Spangled Banner " amid " huzzas " on the other: and how, then, one of the Union bands had struck up " Home, Sweet Home ": how every band in the Union army had followed the lead: how the resistless melody had crossed the dead-line which lay between the two armies, had obliterated the pas sions of the day before, and, as if leading a con quering host of the better angels of our nature, had set every band of the Confederates to playing u Home, Sweet Home." The Blue and the Gray, for one brief hour, were brothers again; the divided hearts rejoined by the golden links of a song.
" Xow, Xellie," exclaimed Ralph triumphantly, " poetry and music which can do such as that must be good! "
The incident thrilled her. Her lively fancy re produced the whole scene. With kindling eyes, she exclaimed:
" I have no doubt that every private soldier in both armies, thinking then of home and loved ones, would have been delirious with joy if it had been announced that the war was ended."
" Xo doubt of that," he agreed. " While the bands were playing ' Home, Sweet Home,' suppose a few private soldiers in each army
[ 319 1

BETHANY f

had cried out that the war must close, that they

would kill their brothers no longer, the two armies

might have commingled in a mighty love-feast."

Ralph smiled sadly, and said: " There would have

been no results, excepting that the private soldiers

you speak of would have been shot like dogs."

" Shot ? Who would have shot them ? " she asked

in distress.

" Their own officers," he answered.

" Whvt, ? How ? I do not know what tY, OU mean." " Here's what I mean," he said. " The conduct

you speak of would have been such a breach of mil

itary discipline that the officers would have pun

ished it with death."

" Well, then," she cried in horror, (i military dis

cipline must be the cruelest monster on earth."

" It is,"' said Ralph briefly.

Pausing a moment, he resumed: " I will give you

an instance."

Then he related the storv of the Southern bov

v

/

who had rushed into the armve when he saw everyt, -

body else doing so. This boy panted for active

service. It happened that he was assigned for duty

on the Georgia coast, a short distance below Sa

vannah.

To fight sand-flies by day, mosquitoes by night,

and fleas at all hours was, here, the chief occupation

of the wearv soldier. *, Finally, the young volunteer could stand it no

[ 320 ]

"GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART"

longer. He escaped from camp, and at once joined

a cavalry command in the West where there was

active service. He had wanted to fight; he went

where there was fighting, and he fought gallantly and

continuously. At length, in the course of the ever-

shifting scenes of war, a portion of the Georgia

troops who had been on duty below Savannah were

transferred to the West, and they came in contact

with the cavalry which the deserter had joined. He

was recognized. His arrest as a deserter, his trial

by court-martial, and his condemnation followed.

The fact that he had deserted onltv.' from one branch of the service to another, with the evident intention

of seeking the post of the greatest danger and the

most useful duty, counted for nothing.

He was sentenced to death. But the Confeder

ate columns were being harassed and hard pressed;

and the execution of the sentence was deferred. The

soldier was aware of the facts--knew that he had

been condemned to die. The column hastened on:

night came, and with the night a terrible storm. It

was pitch dark, lien and horses stumbled about in

helpless confusion. Many lost the road completely.

It was impossible to see one's hand in front of one's

face.

In the universal and indescribable disorders of

the march, the condemned soldier got separated from

his guard. He wandered in one direction; they

in another. With the morning came clear skies; and

22

[

BETHANY

a halt. Here was the opportunity to shoot that de

serter; orders were issued accordingly.

But the officer charged with the duty could not

find the soldier. The officer was not sorrv*/ . It was felt that the case was a hard one.

But, lo and behold! about ten o'clock in the

forenoon who should come straggling into the camp

but the deserter!

" Captain," he said, " I got lost in the storm last

nisrht and rambled awav off in the dark. It took me

C-

*/

a long time to catch up, but here I am."

" I am sorry to see you! " exclaimed the captain,

in tones of genuine pity.

" Why so, captain ? "

" ^Ty orders are to have you shot this evening. I

wish %v/ ou had not come back." With a great gulp in the throat, the poor lad heard

his doom pronounced, and then said simply and re

signedly:

" Well, captain, you will have to do your duty."

The facts of the case were so truly pathetic, that

the captain hurried with them to his colonel, and this

gallant, warm-hearted officer immediately laid the

case before General W. H. T. Walker.

This general had been a hero in th Mexican war,

and was one of the best officers in the Confederate

army. Stern and abrupt in manner, his heart was

one of gold.

Leaping upon his horse, he and the colonel gal-

[ 322 ]

"GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART"
loped at full speed to the headquarters of the commandcr-in-chief, General Joseph E. Johnston.
Earnestly, most earnestly, General Walker pleaded with his chief for mercy--for a reprieve.
Xot a muscle in the iron face of Johnston moved. Curtly, coldly, even harshly, he cut the conference short.
" You have your orders, sir! " " And they shall be ol>eyed," said General Walker in a voice shaken by his feelings. That evening a detail in gray shot to death as brave a soldier as ever donned the colors of the South ern Confederacy.
The impression which this narrative made upon Xellie may be imagined.
She was filled with loathing and disgust and hot indignation.
" Shoot the poor, ignorant fellow just because he ran away from one of our idle camps to join one of our companies where fighting was going on ? It sounds incredible. Is there such a law as that ? "
" I reckon so," Ralph answered. ".Anyhow they shot him. Military discipline, you see."
"Poor, poor fellow! And there were those who loved him, just as------"
" There, there, sweetheart--I'm sorry I told you." After a little, she said:
[ 323 ]

BETHANY
i
" It is too sad to dwell on. I will give you some music."

Ttyey drew to the piano, and she began to sing for

him some of the old songs he loved. In one of the

pauses he asked:

. " J>Tellie, what is this l Lorena' song which is

spreading everywhere? I hear it all around, but

I've 'never caught but a few words besides the name

( Lotena.' It seems to be a regular wail that is run-

ningj over the country. It is in all the camps, too."

She told him the story, as she had heard it.: how

a young ^Northern lad, the son of a Xew York black

smith, inspired by a noble ambition, had toiled and

struggled for an education; had finally graduated at

a college in Columbus, Ohio, and had become a Uni-

ver^alist preacher there; how he had fallen in love

with beautiful Ella Bloxom, and had engaged him-

seli to marry her; how the proud, wealthy married

sister, with whom the orphan, Ella, lived, had de

termined that the poor blacksmith's son should not

enter her family, and had compelled her sister to

break the engagement; how the young preacher had

then wandered off, disconsolate, to Wisconsin; and

hoTJr Ella had married a lawyer of the greatest prom

ise and prominence, who became Chief Justice of

the Supreme Court of Ohio.

jThen Xellie's fingers, with almost imperceptible

toiich and motion, drew out the chords o'f the aceom-

pafciment, and she sang:

I

[334]

"GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART"
LORENA
The years creep slowly by, Lorena; The snow is on the grass again;
The sun's low down the sky, Lorena, The frost is where the flowers have been.
But the heart throbs on as warmly now As when the summer days were nigh;
Oh! the sun can never dip so low Adown affection's cloudless sky.
A hundred months have passed, Lorena, Since last I held that hand in mine,
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena, Though mine beat faster far than thine;
A hundred months--'twas flowery May, When up that hilly slope we climbed
To watch the dying of the day And hear the distant church bells chime.
We loved each other then, Lorena, More than we ever cared to tell;
And what we might have been, Lorena, Had but our lovings prospered well.
But then 'tis past, the years are gone, I'll not call up their shadowy forms;
I'll say to them--lost years sleep on-- Sleep on, nor heed life's pelting storms.
The story of the past, Lorena, Alas I I care not to repeat;
The hopes that could not last, Lorena, They lived, but only lived to cheat.
I would not cause e'en one regret To rankle in your bosom now ;
For "if we try, we may forget," Were words of thine long years ago.
[ 325 ]

BETHANY
Yes, these were words of thine, Lorena, They burn within my memory yet;
They touched some tender chord, Lorena, That thrills and trembles with regret.
Twas not thy woman's heart that spoke-- Thy heart was always true to me;
A duty, stern and pressing, broke The tie that linked my soul to thee.
It matters little now, Lorena, The past is in the eternal past;
Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena, Life's tide is ebbing out so fast.
There is a future 1 Oh, thank God! Of life, this is so small a part!
'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod ; But there--up there, 'tis heart to heart.

Ralph's face as he listened to this song, which

Xedlie sang with such distinct articulation that he

eaiight and understood every, word, was a picture of

sympathetic attention. His only comment on it was:

i I know almost nothing about poetry. My idea

hai been that it was sentimental stuff spun out of

mcton-gazing heads; but I believe every line of

4 Lorena * was dug out of somebody's heart. What

did you say the preacher's name was ? "

" H. D. L. Webster," she answered.

Prom the depths of his being, Ralph pitied the

victims of that tragedy; and the plaintive melody

haft touched his own heart into a full recognition of

hia own bliss. He had not lost his Lorena. He spoke

in a low voice, almost as if communing with himself:

I

[336]

"GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART"
" I know how that man feels. During all months when I thought you were lost to me, my feel ings were just what his were when he wrote those lines. He had lost the one human being who was the light of his life. I thought I had lost you. Oh, Xellie, I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and wonder if it is only a dream that you are mine. It seems too good to be true. My darling, you never will know how dearly, how sacredly, I love you."
She put up both her little hands to his face, pulled it down to hers, and laid her cheek against his, while her arms circled his neck. He held her thus a moment, and neither could speak. Then she kissed him, and said:
" Now let me play you some of my favorites; I was always playing them during that bad, bad year when we misunderstood." .
With exquisite expression and the truest touch, she rendered, one after another, several of those compositions which the whole musical world knows and loves. Then her fingers glided into a measure he had never heard before. He listened entranced. The melody of dreams was there. The wooing tenderness of all the lovers who had ever sighed at the feet of beauty was there. The deathless yearning for' the pure and true, the passionate longing for the loveideal, rose almost to wildness in the swelling chords, and then dropped exhausted to moan in despair.
[327 ]

BETHANY
W_^_hite! -faced lovers stood beneath Italian balconies, in far-away moonlit cities, singing, singing the old, old song which enchants and enslaves the world.
Ahj wizard of music! Why so cruel? Why in spire to goals we shall not reach, to heights we cannot scaled Why bring to us dreams of unbroken love, and stainless lives, and cloudless skies ? Why wrench our hjeavy hearts with longings we cannot word, and a sadni ess deeper than tears ?

As the last notes died away, and Nellie rose, Ralph

said, as he took her hand:

" l*hat was wonderful; what piece is it ? "

" It is Schubert's 'Serenade.' "

" Who was Schubert, Nellie ? "

" He was a German composer who died young, in

utter poverty and neglect. It was only after his

death that his genius was recognized."

" "fhere seems to be a good deal of that kind of

history, and I feel sorry for those young unfortunate

men Who die of what is called the broken heart: but,

at the same time, I believe it is weak to give up. We

must; fight it out; and not give up."

" T^et the music touched you deeply, Ralph."

" iindeed it did,7 sweetheart,f and alwav* s will.
Whei the war is over, and I get back home, and we

are married, my favorite of all favorites shall be the

younJBj German's ( Serenade/ "

She walked with him to the gate, and when he

I

I 338 ]

4 'GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART"
had untied his horse, he slipped his arm through the reins and came back to where she stood.
Who can vary the story ? Since the morning stars sang together, and human hearts knew what love was, separations have been the same, and into them all has entered the bitterness of death.
Farewell I a word that hath been, and must be: A sound which makes us linger--yet--Farewell!
[329]

CHAPTER XIII

BACK IN CAMP

TEE second battle of Manassas had been fought.

The invasion of Marvyland had followed,/ and that invasion had failed. The Union troops had resumed

the bffensive, and were now encamped on one side

of the Rappahannock, while the army of the South

guarded the other.

Tfcth Ralph, on his return to the army, went one

of tpe Ramsey boys of Lincoln County. Disabled

at ^jilalvern Hill, and poisoned by the limestone

water, he had been on the brink of the grave, and

for 'more than a year had been an invalid. Even

now|, he was a mere shadow and skeleton of a man,

almost unfit for duty.

6f military movements, since Malvem Hill, he

kneW nothing more than the newspapers published.

The| spicy details which seldom appeared in print

had' been lacking; and he was eager, now, to listen,

as ne sat with his comrades around the camp-fire.

Hany of the thrilling incidents of Jackson's Valley

Cainpaign were narrated, and many of that hero's

personal peculiarities were described. He was the

|

[3301

BACK IN CAMP
awkwardest horseman in the army; his uniform was faded and dingy; he was a grim, silent, curt, abrupt man, who marched his men as though they were horses, and fought them as though they were tigers. The army had boundless faith in him. As soon as it would be known on the eve of battle that " Old Jack " was up, confidence reigned. " Stonewall " Jackson had never been routed, and the men believed that he never would be. Then they jested affection ately about his belief that black pepper made him weak in his left leg, and that one of his arms was heavier than the other.
"You often see him hold up one arm, even in battle, and the boys used to think he was praying. It's a mistake. He prays enough, but when he holds his arm up in that manner his idea is to let the blood run down and out of the arm so as to reduce its weight. If old l Stonewall' were not known to be a genius, some folks might suspect that he was crackbrained."
It was Cullars who spoke.
" And how about Bob Toombs ?" asked Ramsey.
There was a general laugh, in which there was the curious mingling of amusement and admiration.
" He's a hell of a fellow! " cried Cullars, with another laugh and a slap of his thigh.
" You know that the general is hail-fellow with most of these Virginia nabobs--served in Congress with 'em, you know. Well, sir, just before the second
[331]

i

BETHANY

battle of Manassas, lie was dined at one of these grand old brick mansions, where they have all that is good to eat and drink. As the general came riding back to camp, full as a goat, it was mighty near dark, and Toombs was in one of his moods when he
L
don't give a tinker's damn for anything. As it hap pened, he came across some of his own men out on picket duty. It made him mad, and he began to cuss land rear.
" * Who sent you out here ? Longstreet, eh ? Damn Lon^street! Who's Longstreet, that he should be ordetin' my men all over the world without my consent? My brigade shan't be made to do the picket duty for the whole army. Right about face ' there,. and get back to camp! March, I tell you!!'"

Here a burst of merriment interrupted the story, men slapping their legs and rolling about as if they would split their sides. One man would cry out, "Bully for Toombs!" another would say, "Well, ain't he the damnedest man you ever saw ? "
Cullars continued: " Well, sir, the boys hardly knew what to do when their general ordered them in, but they came along, some of 'em laughing, some lookin' sorter scared. When they reached camp, whai should General Toombs do but make a speech to his brigade denouncing the way in which they
being made to do the picket duty of the whole regular stump speech, you see." [333]

BACK IN CAMP
" Where was Longstreet all this time ?" asked Kamsey.
" Oh, Longstreet showed up all right. Toombs hadn't more'n got started good before here comes an order, and he's carried off under arrest."
" What did the court-martial do about it \ "
"Court-martial the devil! I wonder how you would start about managin' Toombs with a courtmartial ! " exclaimed Cullars.
" Well, how did Longstreet get around it ? The conduct of General Toombs is one that they punish with death, as I understand."
"Yes," said Cullars; "you let some other fellow cut up in that style and they'll shoot his life out in short order, but they just can't afford to murder a man like Bob Toombs."
" What an elephant he must be on their hands! " " Just so. But Toombs has got sense. He knows where the limit is about as well as the next man. As soon as he got sober he saw he was in a tight place, and the way he got out was the best part of the business." " Made a handsome public apology, did he ? " " 'No, sir-ee! Never has apologized publicly to this day. What he did was to make a demand to lead his brigade in the charge that Longstreet had ordered. The second battle of Manassas was raging, and the Toombs brigade was ready to join, when Longstreet got Toombs's note demanding to lead his men. He
[333]

I

BETHANY

couldn't hit ' Old Pete's ' heart any better, if he was

to try all his life. Lee's wheel-horse couldn't resist

a thing like that. So Toombs got his release, and in

a mimte here he comes, ridin' a splendid gray mare

at full gallop, his figure straight in the saddle, his

face'afire; and as he passed old Longstreet, he swung

off iis hat and waved it, while every Georgian in

sight yelled, < Hurrah for Toombs!' "

" J wish I could have seen that," said Ramsey.

" jWell, sir, it was worth seeing! Bullets were

flying thick as hail, but Toombs galloped far ahead

of has staff, till he got to Drayton's brigade, which

eheeired him wildly; and then from regiment to regi

ment, as he dashed down the line, the men waved

their hats and cheered him. A finer figure of a sol

dier'under fire vou never saw. And when he reached.

;

*/

his own men, they yelled as the Stonewall brigade

yells for Jackson. It was glorious! "

" JYes," cried Ralph, " it was grand! Old Toombs

wavkd his hat, and shouted, ' Charge, boys! Fol

low ! me!'--and away they went into the fight,

Toombs far in the lead. Nobody ever said court-

martaal after that"

"iLet me tell you something else about General

Toombs at the second battle of Manassas," said Ralph.

"I As Toombs and his staff were hurrying across

the field, his eye happened to fall upon a Union sol

dier:, lying on the ground, badly wounded. Well,

sir, Bob Toombs recognized the man at a glance."

i

[3341

BACK IN CAMP
" Who was it ? " Ramsey asked eagerly. " It was the son of the great Daniel Webster. Toombs had known the young man in Washington, you see. The general got down off his horse, spoke to Webster, examined him, put a knapsack under his head, gave him water out of his canteen, and then left the canteen for the wounded man's use. Toombs saw that the wounds were very serious, and he spoke words of deepest sympathy to the poor fellow. The battle was raging, and General Toombs had to say good-by and ride on." " What became of Webster ? " " He died that night." " I remember . one night before the war," said Uncle Ralph, "when'Mr. Stephens and Bob Toombs were at our house, and both of them mentioned how much they thought of Daniel Webster. It was a strange thing that Toombs should so soon be giving help on the battle-field to the dying son of his old colleague and friend." Ramsey remarked: " Yes, it shows what an un natural war this is."
s
They were silent a while, and then he continued: " After the second battle of Manassas, you crossed over into Maryland ?"
" Yes," said Cullars, " and as we marched we sang ' Maryland, My Maryland/ The bands all played it as we forded the river.
" It was a sort of Sunday-school celebration .at
[335]

BETHANY

first! Friendly faces beamed upon us, and many nice

things were said to us, and many kind things done

for iis. We had strict orders not to straggle or forage

or do any damage. If Uncle Robert Lee saw where

a rail had been knocked off the fence, he would order

it ptat back. Later on our rations gave out; the

damjned commissary broke down, or something, and

we iuffered. In spite of L'ncle Robert's orders we

just had to forage a little or starve. We lived some-

tim^s for days at a time on green corn, apples, cher

ries'!and such truck as we could lav*" hands on. I have seen our boys drink water from puddles covered with

greejn scum. Then came Sharpsburg, and the two

day? of hard fighting with McClellan. And then we

wer^ back on the defensive again."

"jWe are in for a long war it seems," remarked

one of the mess.

":It looks that way. We've had lots of bad luck,"

said another. " Our victories are not followed up.

We don't seem to get much out of them besides glory,

and glory isn't going to build the house."

" Yes," resumed Cullars, " we balked after Bull

Run; we made a botch of it in pursuing McClellan;

and at Shiloh we lost the best chance we ever

hav^ had."

"j Why, how was that ? " inquired Ramsey. " The

newspapers I read at home claimed that we won a

big 'victory at Shiloh."

"Damn the newspapers! They never get any-

!

[336]

BACK IN CAMP

thing right. They seem to be run by a lot of hysteri

cal old hags--reg'lar hcllians!

" Wh\vj ,f the inside fact about Shiloh is that Albert Sidney Johnston gained a splendid victory and that

Bean regard lost it. At two hours by sun, the Yankee

army- was the worst whipped crowd you ever saw.

They had run off the field, had thrown away guns,

knapsacks, cartridge-boxes--everything--and were

huddled up along the banks of the Tennessee River,

dyin' to get across, and expectin' every minute to be

gathered in by our men."

'

" And what stopped it all ? "

" Why, Johnston exposed himself and got mortally

wounded. That threw the command to Beauregard,

and Beauregard couldn't take in the situation. He

called a halt, and ruined everything. That night

reinforcements poured in to the Yankees, and next

morning we were the ones to get worsted."

The pained expression, the forerunner of that dis

couragement which was in store for the whole South,

told better than words how the soldiers felt, as Cullars

repeated his story.

" Was there no officer who could tell General

Beauregard the truth of the matter ?" exclaimed

Ramsey.

" Why, yes, but he wasn't heeded. When General

Johnston was falling off his horse, General Harris of

Tennessee caught him in his arms. Harris knew how

badly whipped the Yankees were. Pretty soon he

23

[ 337 ]

BETHANY

salv our lines stop and begin to stack arms. The sun

wajs two hours high, and Harris didn't know what on

earth it meant. He galloped up to one of the briga

diers and asked-:

f { ' General Cheatham, what does this rmean ?'

"Military pride is as quick as gunpowder, and

Cheatham answered, ' I know my duty, sir. I am

obeying orders.'

pkf

i" As fast as he could gallop, Harris flew to find Beauregard. Xearly a mile to the rear, he found

Beauregard in an ambulance.

|" l General!' exclaimed Harris, ( surely you have

not ordered a halt Surely something has gone wrong,

arid the facts of the situation have been misrepre

sented to you. Let me '

j"'Yes, it is my order,' said Beauregard, inter-

rdpting. ( The soldiers need rest. I will gather the

fruits of the victory to-morrow.'

j" ( But why not this evening, general ? Why not

make a clean sweep on this side, and cross the river

tdnight? Buell is coming with 20,000 men. He

will land his men on this side before morning, and

tomorrow we will be outnumbered/

|" ' Oh, no/ answered Beauregard. ' John Morgan

is over there. He'll keep Buell back.' "

! " The idea of 3,000 cavalry keeping back 20,000

irifantry! " grunted Ramsey.

i Continuing Cullars said: " Completely disheart-

eied, Harris said, as he turned to ride back: ( Gen-

i

[3ss]

BACK IN CAMP
eral Beauregard, you will regret the loss of these two hours the longest day you live!'
" That night Buell did come across with his 20,000 men, and his coming put new life into all the rest. Next morning they were too much for us."
Ralph remarked: " There was a rumor in our camp that General Prentiss, whose whole division was captured by Beauregard, fooled his captors hy telling them that Buell couldn't reach the field in forty-eight hours, and that the Yankees had powerful batteries to protect them, whereas they had none at that point. They say that Prentiss admits that Beauregard could have bagged the Union troops this side the river; and he boasts of the way in which he fooled our general."
Ramsey answered: "Perhaps that rumor is true, but I have heard that the Yankees did have the bat teries, and that these batteries stopped our men that evening. I have also heard that Beauregard was not sick, not in the ambulance, but was on horseback all day, directing part of the fight."
" Nobody doubts Beauregard's courage," answered Ralph; " That was proved at Manassas. At Shiloh he seized the colors and led a Louisiana regiment into the charge, I'm told. He would call out to the Cre oles in French, and to the others in English. Oh, Beauregard is brave enough, and he's a good officer, but he, perhaps, made a big mistake."
[339]

|

BETHANY

It

i



.

E .'

. '"General Grant commanded'the Yankees, didn't

he!? " some one asked.

" Yes/7 said Cullars, " the same Grant who fought

at Belmont, and took Fort Donelson. He's a good

fighter, I reckon, though they say he gets as drunk as

Toombs; but at the time Johnston was shot, Grant

w&s one of the wust whipped men that ever lived."

i "-We've had lots of bad luck/' muttered some one

elise, dolefully.

| " Luck the devil! " exclaimed Cullars. " We've

had lots of d----^ fool management."

| " Well/' said Ralph, encouragingly, " I reckon the

Yankee generals make mistakes, too."

i " I hope so," said Cullars. " We are going to need

all they can make. ' We've got nobody to fight our

battles but ourselves, while the Yankees are draw

ing recruits from all over the world."

, " Time to turn in, boys. We'll get homesick if

Tfe keep on talking like this." And so they turned to

ijheir blankets.

j I The Union army, now (December, 1862) en

amped about Warrenton, were pushed to Fredericks-

Irarg, and orders came to the Confederates for forced

inarches. Through rain and slush, the Bethany

uards, cold and tired, made what speed they could.

ear the middle of December they reached the out

kirts of the city, and camped in a pine thicket, beside

bne of the public roads.

I

[340]

BACK IN CAMP
That very night, between midnight and day, the guns of the Union army, in the battery upon the heights beyond the Kappahannock, opened upon the sleeping city a terrific cannonade. Shrieking balls, bursting shells, fell in deadly hail upon the homes of the doomed city.
Amid the frightful noises of the cannonade rose the screams of women and children as they rushed from their beds in their night clothes, and flew along the roads leading toward the Confederate lines. The glare of burning houses lit up the wintry skies, and lighted the way of the homeless wretches who flew shrieking along the roads.
Confederate batteries took up the challenge, and then for hour after hour raged one of those artillery duels which seemed to rend earth and heaven.
By morning there had crossed the river on pon toons 90,000 Union troops to assault the Confeder ates, and the most desperate fighting raged all along the line.
At one place along the wide front of the battle, Malvern Hill was repeated, with the hot end of the mistake toward the Yankees.
The Confederates lay behind a stone wall, and between the wall and the river was level ground, a ten-acre truck-field. Over this level exposed space the Unioii troops advanced against the rock wall.
Such immense loss as ensued was not witnessed
[341]

BETHANY

again until Grant hurled himself against the earth-

woirks at Cold Harbor. ! JA11 over the level field, from the rock fence to

where the railroad depot now stands, dead bluecoats

lay so thick that one could have walked the whole

distance on dead bodies.

jOn the right and on the left the Union troops were

driven back in helpless rout; and that night and next

day every cellar and hiding place in Fredericksburg

held its quaking skulker.

if

iI Yet General Lee had not p* ut Anderson's division into the fight at alL Fully 8,000 of our men did not

fire a shot. Xext morning the assault was not re

newed. !NTor did Lee advance against the demoralized

host huddling on this side of the river. A flag of

truce came from General Burnside asking time to

bury the dead. Granted. The day was thus spent.

| With night came a storm of rain and wind, driving

from the Confederate position, and thus at once sights

aid sounds within the Union lines were lost to Lee.

Sheltered by the pitchy darkness and the roar of the

tempest, the Union masses made for the river in full,

hurried retreat. 2u>t a light was allowed: not a

sound made which might draw fire from Confeder

ate cannon. Such citizens of the town as had re

mained throughout the battle rushed to the doors to

learn what was the meaning of toe strange dull buzz

wi hich filled the air./ and were amazed to find the streets packed with the moving mass of men, horses

I 342 ]

BACK IN CAMP
and wagons. If such citizens held in their hands lamp, candle or torch, they instantly heard the stern whispered order, " Put out that light! " In some cases officers sprang from the ranks, seized and put out the light thrusting the citizen back within doors.
The sentries next to the Confederate lines were withdrawn by officers who passed from man to man, giving the order in a whisper. When the dawn brought light enough, the Confederate sentinels dis covered that the Union picket line was held by dead men corpses which had been propped up against stones or posts, with muskets in their frozen hands!
Old Fredericksburg, badly battered and ruthlessly sacked, was left to the victorious Confederates, who, when daylight fairly came,, cursed their luck as they viewed the Union army, safely intrenched, upon the heights beyond the Rappahannock.
The next thing in order is " Winter quarters ": into which we proceed to go.
The fighting over with for the present, the soldiers of the two opposing armies established certain friendly relations with each other orders to the contrary notwithstanding.
Northern soldiers wanted tobacco; Southern sol diers wanted coffee and sugar: result, brisk barter ing across the Rappahannock.
Where the stream was shallow enough to be forded on horseback, the exchange of commodities was a
[343] .

BETHANY

simple matter of meeting in the middle of the river.

But lower down, where the Rappahannock is deep,

ingenuity achieved a triumph which was almost in

credi ible. ^ Confederate soldier invented a miniature boat

of pine bark, just large enough to hold a few plugs

of tobacco. To this little boat he adjusted sails made

of paper. Then launching the tiny craft, it was driven

by 'the wind diagonally across the stream, a hundred

yaifds below the point of launching. There the ex

pectant Northern soldiers would unload the cargo,

ana refill the boat with coffee. Again the sails would

be'set,-and the little ship would make its return

1!

voyage. This boat, multiplied by the dozen, did a big

and merry business on the Rappahannock during the

whole winter the armies were in winter quarters.

80 companionable grew the relations between the

individual soldier's of the two armies during this in

terval between combats that the cavalry men picket

ing the fords above Fredericksburg often met in mid

stream to have friendly talks, swap knives, exchange

newspapers, and trade for coffee and tobacco. Some

times the soldiers of one army would go across into

the camp of the other to enjoy a sociable chat or a

gaine of cards. In no instance was any advantage

taken of this confidence by either side.

[344)

CHAPTER XIV

CHANCELLORSVILLE

Ox the night of May 1, 1863, General Lee and

Stonewall Jackson were holding a council of war at

Aldrich's house, about two miles from Chancellors-

ville.

The conference began early after dark; it did not

end till midnight. If some De Blowitz had been

hidden under the table, and could now tell us every

word which passed between the Confederate chief

tains at that fateful interview, the story would com

mand world-wide attention. It was Jackson's last

council. When it closed he had planned his last

flank movement, his last triumph, and his own

death.

Chancellorsville was a house and a name at the

crossing of dim dirt roads in that weird region known

as "the Wilderness." For miles and miles, the

scanty earth bore dense thickets of scrub oak. For

miles and miles, it was a barren, desolate, God-for

<.

saken territory. Houses were few, and far apart;

roads wound in and out, here and there, then quit--

leaving to the traveller the alternative of going back

[345]

|

BETHANY

i

i

to by another one, or of cursing his luck and ceasing

to travel.

jln the daytime the traveller, as a rule, met no

one, saw no one, heard no human voices. He might

see highland moccasins curled surlily amid the stunted

trees or in the road; he might occasionally hear the

hoot of a distant owl. If the day happened to be one

ofi mists and drizzle,' of leaden clouds,' and no sun-- in' other words, " a gray day "--then, indeed, " the

solitary horseman " might fancy he had wandered

into a domain of ghosts.

i-f

iln the night, the stillness of the forlorn woods was.

broken by the melancholy notes of thousands of

-.1

" whippoorwills," the shivering lament of number

less screech-owls, and the robust volume of the

horned owl's " Hoo! Hoo! Hoc-all! "

Mature had intended, no doubt, to do the fair thing

by this region, but she either had been interrupted at

the critical moment, or she had started wrong, had

got discouraged, and had abandoned the job.

. ii On . her robe of marvellous richness and everchanging loveliness, the Wilderness was a blur of un

redeemed and unvaried ugliness.

. It was in the midst of this God-forsaken country

that Stonewall Jackson sat down with Lee to his last i
cdiincil of war. The situation of the Confederate

army was not much more cheerful than the locality.

There was a screech-owl flavor in both. Briefly, the

facts were:

|

[346]

CHANCELLORSVILLE

The Union army, more than 100,000, had been in

winter quarters on the other side of the Rappahan-

nock, north of Fredericksburg. The Confederate

army, not half as strong, had been in winter quarters

on this side of the river, south of Fredericksburg.

The Confederate cavalry, under Stuart, Hampton,

Fitz Lee, and P. M. B. Young, had been watching

the fords.

.

For reasons which the unprofessional reader can

not be expected to understand, General Joe Hooker

had been allowed to launch the Union host across

the river without the loss of a man. Rapidly passing

through the Wilderness, this army, safe and sound,

emerged into the open country where their immense

superiority in numbers would tell to the best advan

tage. Hooker's line was several miles in advance of

Chancellorsville, and upon a ridge at that.

Up to this point it seems clear tt> the unprofes

sional reader that the Confederates had been out

generaled. The necessity had suddenly come upon

the 45,000 men of Lee to assail the 100,000 of

Hooker in their lines, upon the high ground, or for

the smaller army to retreat upon Richmond with the

Union army in full pursuit.

From either of these desperate alternatives, Lee

was snatched by the colossal blunder of Hooker. In

the twinkling of an eye, he lost his head--for the

Confederates were coming on, right at him!--and

scuttled back into the Wilderness! Of all places

[3471

BETHANY

i
which a level country could afford, the Wilderness

was the best for the smaller army. So far as it was

in his power to do it, Hooker had played into the

hands of Lee.

Nevertheless, the Union army, strongly intrenched

in 'the Wilderness and expecting the 22,000 men

under Sedgwick to cross at Fredericksburg and strike

Lee1 upon his flank, occupied a most formidable posi

tion. If their combinations worked out, according

to plans and expectations, Lee's 45,000 Confederates

would be enveloped by 120,000 Federals.

As Hooker was drawing back from the open into

the: woods, Jackson had struck him and fought him

till dark.

Jjut the Confederates had then come upon the

elaborate defences which the Union army had thrown

up in the Wilderness, and the assault had been re

pulsed all along the line.

"'Vhat now should be done?

'. 3iat was the question which Lee and Jackson met

to decide. Hour after hour passed, and still they had

reached no conclusion. The very length of the con

ference reveals the doubtful, dangerous character of

thefir situation. If the Confederates failed to break

thd Federal lines; if, while Lee's 45,000 were assail

ing Hooker's intrenched army of 100,000, there

should come upon his flank the fresh 22,000 of Sedg-

wi<ik--it would be another case of Xapoleon caught

between the two armies. Waterloo would be re-

i

i

[ 348 ]

*;

CHANCELLORSVILLE

peated. And how, by any reasonable calculation,

could it seem possible for the smaller force to drive

out the larger from its intrenched camp ?

On the other hand, should a retreat be sounded,

the moral and physical results might be overpower-

ingly hurtful. Clamors would arise from every

editor in the South; black-coated warriors would

froth at the mouth; Jeff Davis would rock and reel

in the storm; discouragement, like a simoon, would

wilt the enthusiasm of the Southern people.

Finally, it was agreed between the two Confeder

ate generals that the direct assault upon Hooker's

lines was too risky. And the darker, sterner, more

energetic man, Jackson--he of the broken, faded

cap, and the dingy, shabby uniform--proposed a

daring movement across Hooker's front to his rear.

Let Lee hold the attention of the Union army in

front, let Early do his best to keep Sedgwick back,

while he, Jackson, would, with his splendid force of

21,000, swiftly skirt along Hooker's front--keeping . irt
out of sight--and fall upon his flank. Then Hooker

would be caught between two fires, and it would be

" Farewell, Hooker! "

3;

But. suppose the Federal chief should detect the

i :.ii
i;;

movement I Suppose he should wait till Jackson had

separated himself, good and clear, from Lee, what

was to hinder Hooker from falling upon the little

band of Lee, crushing it, and jamming it helplessly

between himself and the on-coming Sedgwick?

[349]

I II if*

|

BETHANY

Then it would be " Farewell, Lee! " " We must take our chances. The situation can not be made worse than it is. If Hooker sees my movement and falls upon you, I will see his move ment and fall upon him. If he attacks you while I m<We, he must come out of his lines to do so, and when he does, his flank will be exposed to me. You may depend upon me to watch him as closely as he waitches me. It is a life and death business any waiy we take it, and my plan promises the best resi ults." 1' Let us try it then. Move at dawn.. I will listen for your guns when you reach Hooker's flank. It will be late to-morrow evening, in all probability. When your guns are heard, I will press them in frcjnt" Stately, calm and courteous, Robert E, Lee, loolking every inch the natural leader and commander of the best army on the globe, ended the conference, anil shook hands with his greatest lieutenant--for
i
the last time.

The council of war over, Jackson returned to his

lines, lay down upon the bare ground at the foot of a

pine tree, and, without covering of any sort, passed

into the last sleep he was to take upon the field. And

when he rose before dawn, he was chilled to the

boie, and had taken the cold which may have had

mdch to do with his illness and death.

!

[3501

CHANCELLORSVILLE

By sunrise, his entire force was well advanced upon

its mission.

-

The student of Napoleon's career will be struck

with the similarity between the flank movement sug

gested by Jackson at Chancellorsville and the flank

movement of Napoleon at Bautzen. Bliicher had

there put himself into a perilous position; but, as

long as the French attacked him in front, he was

threatened with no worse than a common defeat--to " '

which Napoleon had made him familiar. He might

even hold his position, for Napoleon's troops were

raw levies, mainly. But the French emperor wanted

something decisive. He needed it. His fortunes

had reached a crisis where nothing but a miracle

could save him. Into his brain flashed one of those

inspirations which change the destinies of nations.

" Go, Ney!--you, the bravest of the brave--go along

the flank of Bliicher's position; keep out of sight;

do not stop to fight; march, march, and get upon his

rear! Then fight with all the lion that is in you!

Hearing your guns I, from the front, will advance,

and, between you and me, Bliicher will be ground

to powder, the Coalition dissolved and France

saved!"

'

Alas! that Ney was not left in front to keep up

the fight, while the emperor himself led the turning

movement! For Ney, being assailed by a paltry rear- .

guard, stood to fight; and old Bliicher, hearing guns

around on his flank, smelt brimstone, and, throwing

[351]

''



- . I!

ETHAKY
down every other job, save that of everlastingly get ting out of K'apoleon's trap, fell back pell-mell before Key had barred the road.
j^ow, at Chancellorsville, Jackson's task was to inarch away from Hooker's front, skirt around for fifteen miles, escaping detection, and get full upon the undefended flank and rear before the Union geWral should suspect the blow that was aimed at him.
j In this turning movement Jackson was met by the same difficulty which foiled Xey. A small detaichment opened fire upon him. But many Xeys cduld have been made out of Stonewall Jackson. He was not to be foiled. He left a squad to fight a squad; and he never halted. On, right on, he marched until the afternoon was waning, and he judged he had about reached the position he sought. Hooker, in fact, knew of the movement, but supposed Jackson to b0 in full retreat.
With Fitz Lee, he rode to the top of a slight ele vation from which he could view Hooker's defences. He was not yet quite far enough. Pointing to the Plank road, he said to an aide:
| " Tell my column to cross that road." | The column moved acrcss the Orange Plank road, and continued to advance until it reached the Old
i
'turnpike running from the " Old Wilderness Tavetn " toward Chancellorsville.
Here they halted. They were full upon Hooker's
[ 353 ]

CHANCELLORSVILLE

right flank. And Hooker did not know it. Nothing,

remained but to strike, swift and hard.

Jackson had ridden since dawn, and was tired.

He was sitting now upon a log, while the line of

battle was being formed. It was very hot--no air

stirring in those thick woods. The enemy was not

more than two hundred yards off. So dense was the

forest and so quiet the approach of the Confeder-

ates that the Federals suspected nothing. They were

camped in an old field. They had stacked their mus

kets, and were beginning to make coffee for supper.

The Southern line of battle formed; word was

about to be given to attack, when a Methodist

preacher named Camp, a member of Company B,

Fourth Georgia Regiment, asked that all kneel while

he prayed.

Stonewall Jackson bowed his head where he sat;

the others kneeled, and the preacher prayed. Then

the attack was ordered, and the Federal corps in

^

Jackson's front was swept off the face of the earth.

They did not even have time to turn and use their

cannon.

'

The Bethany Guards were a part of the force

which remained with Lee, in Hooker's front. Every

man,in the army knew of Jackson's movement. RTot

one of them failed to comprehend its importance. In

fact, the confidence which the Confederate soldiers

had come to place in Stonewall Jackson amounted to

24

[353]

BETHANY

a, superstition. They did not believe that he could

be whipped.

If Jackson was absent, they were anxious and

uneasy; if Jackson was on the field, with his men in

jaction, they had no doubts of success. " Has Jackson

:ome up ? "

" Yes, Jackson's up."

:

"All right, then. We'll whip 'em, sure's hell! "

Dialogues of that kind were as common as the

saying, " That's either Jackson or a rabbit," when

jthe troops in the distance were heard to raise a shout.

All day my fncle Ralph and his comrades had

done their share in the desultory fighting which Lee

jkept up on the front of the enemy. From time to

time they would speak of Jackson, and venture

guesses as to the progress he was making. After the

noon hour passed, the anxiety to hear Jackson's guns

on the enemy's right, west of Chancellorsville, be

came painful. Two o'clock came and went; another

hour dragged its weary length away; then another;

and the shadows of evening began to fall.

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Cullars, " where's old

Jack ? He mu^t have got lost in them d------d thickets.

j It's nearly night, and it's too late now to do any

thing."

| "I tell you, boys, things look squally," said

!
i

Ramsev*/ .

"

Here

we

are,f

a

small

handful; *

if

Hooker

I only knew it. We are hemmed in between Sedgwick,

in the rear, and Hooker in our front."

[354]

CHANCELLORSVILLE

" Early will take care of Sedgwick," exclaimed

some one.



"How can Early's .6,000 stop Sedgwick's

22,000'? ". asked Kamsey.

"



" If old Stonewall don't do something and do it

d----d quick, we're in the hole. That's my opinion,"

said Cullars decidedly.

" Hush! Listen! " cried my Uncle Ralph.

Away off in the woods, to the west of Chancellors-

ville, in the very rear of the Union army, a sudden

thunder shook the earth and the sky! It was the

roar of a cyclone; a maddening rush and volume of

furious sound; a crash, as of the falling pillars of a world!

" By G--d! " yelled Cullars, at the top of his

voice, " THAT'S JACKSON ! "

" It's all right now! " shouted everybody.

From one end of Lee's line to the other, came yells

of joy and triumph. Men tossed their hats, wild

with excitement. The music of Jackson's guns in-

I

toxicated and inspired them. As the boom of his

I

cannon deepened, and the roll of his musketry be-

1

came a continuous roar, they knew, they knew that

4

they would win, and they yelled like maniacs in their

exultation.

.

All the world knows that while Stonewall Jack

-r '

son's attack was being made upon Hooker's right, he

conceived the daring design of moving yet farther

[ 355 ]

BETHANY

i

|

abound and cutting off the line of Federal retreat;

that in order to ascertain best what disposition to

make, he rode a short distance ahead of his own line,

and that a sudden volley, fired by his own men,

Wounded him mortallvi/ . Kor is there need of telling how the brilliant cav

alier, General J. E. B. Stuart, was placed in com

mi and of Jackson's men,' and how Stuart reversed Jackson's plan. Instead of stretching farther away

from Lee, he steadilv drew toward his chief, until

I

7

t/

7

toeir forces met. Singing in a voice that rang above

the battle, " Old Joe Hooker, won't you come out of

t le Wilderness ?" Stuart led the infantry to the

charge, the watchword being, " Remember Jack

son!"

.

-

.

Superbly mounted, brilliantly uniformed, with

silken sash and floating plume, his drawn sabre in

his gauntleted hand, romance itself never imagined

hero more the <beau ideal of a leader in battle than

eb Stuart.

By sheer hard fighting, by headlong and persistent

charges, line after line of Hooker's breastworks was

<;arried; and the Federals, disorganized and broken,

were hurled upon Chancellorsville, the Confederates

pf ursuing with the wildest yells. As the Confederate attack was being 'delivered,

eneral Hooker stood on the piazza of the Chancel-

Lorsville house, leaning against one of the columns,

watching the battle.

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CHANCELLORS VILLE

There were some ladies in the building, and he

was urged to let them seek safety in the rear.

" No, they must remain," said he. General Lee

would not fire upon women and children. That was

demonstrated at Fredericksburg. Let .the ladies go

up-stairs, and show themselves on the balcony. That

would protect the house.

They went up-stairs accordingly, and out upon the

balcony, but General Lee's eyes were busy elsewhere.

Confederate cannoneers, knowing nothing of the pres

ence of Women in the house, shelled it; and a ball

struck the column against which General Hooker

leaned, throwing it down, and disabling him.

Awful as this whole battle had been, full of grue

some incidents, its tragedy now deepened tenfold.

Shells set fire to the Chancellorsville house and to the

woods. For miles and miles these woods were strewn

with mangled men and horses. The leaping flames

roared where the cannon and the musket had done

their work; and into a vast, fiery furnace the shriek

ing wounded were drawn--the Blue and the Gray

alike devoured by its remorseless impartiality.

Lee sat his horse not far from the burning house,

doing what he could for the wounded. As he

had ridden to the front, the rebel yell of victory had

greeted him all along the line. Neither he nor his

troops feared any fatal consequences to Stonewall .

Jackson from those wounds in the arm. Even as he .

sat his horse near the burning house, its glare falling

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ujpon his calm face, a note from Jackson was handed

t6 him, and he sent in return a generous message.

j The wounded lieutenant, from his bed of suffer

ing, had sent to congratulate his chief upon his vic

tory, and the ever magnanimous chief had made the

noble answer:

| " Say to General Jackson that the victory is his,

and that the congratulation is due to him."

I All of us know how the campaign ended by Lee

being unwilling to risk an attack upon Hooker, and

Hooker being unwilling to risk being attacked. In

oiir mental vision we can see Hooker softly crossing

the Rappahannock, over pontoons covered with pine

brush to deaden tell-tale sounds, at the very moment

that Lee's sharpshooters are skittishly creeping up to

see what is going on inside Hooker's breastworks.

When the timid Confederates venture to look into

Hi ooker's

lines,

thev **

discover

that

the

Federals

have

been equally timid. They have gone.

j And so the Confederates raise the shout of victory,

and fighting is at an end for the present.

But Stonewall Jackson is dead.

When that sudden volley was fired by his own troops, he seemed to be dazed. His mind was so ab sorbed with his battle-plans that it took no thought of his own danger. The opposing lines were close together. Not more than two hundred yards lay be-
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CHANCELLORSVILLE
tween them. The Confederates had advanced nearly three miles. It was night, and the thicket was dense. A volley from the Confederates would be almost certain to provoke a volley in reply.
An officer reconnoitring between the two lines necessarily carried his life in his hands.
In just such a critical position, Napoleon had lost one of his best generals in Italy In just such a posi tion, Napoleon himself had been shot at by his own men. How did he escape ? By throwing himself flat upon the ground, until his troops could be notified of their mistake.
When we read--and we men of the South read it yet with aching hearts--of the manner in which Stonewall Jackson continued in his saddle; riding hither, riding thither, shot at by his enemies, shot at by his friends; galloping in one direction a while, and another direction a while; till his bridle-hand and left arm are shattered; till his horse goes wild with fright; till the limb of a tree strikes him in the face, tears off his cap, and almost sweeps him from his seat; till at length staff officers take him out of the saddle and lay him, bleeding and well-nigh senseless, on the ground.
Ten thousand ^whippoorwills are mingling their weird cries with the groans and screams of the wounded, the roar of musketry and the boom of cannon. For a storm of grape and canister is sweeping the road; and as far as anyone can see,
[ 359 1



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the ground is h1.o1 rses.

littered

with

mangled

men

and

Through the tangled thicket, amid the bursting

sHell--their fragments lighting the sky like falling

stars--our greatest soldier drags himself toward his

own lines, borne up in the arms of his sole remaining

staff-officer and a member of the signal corps.

Blood pours from his wounds--for the artery in

the arm is cut--and the uniforms of his officers are

covered with it.

His own men, A. P. Hill's corps, are pressing for

ward to the attack, and as they pass, some call out,

"jWho is that ? " as if suspecting the awful truth, for

tme cap is gone, and the moon falls upon the white,

almost lifeless face of the stricken chief. One poor

soldier, more suspicious than the rest, presses close

upon the little party, which is trying to screen the

wounded man between the two horses, and cries in

piteous tones, " My God! That is General Jackson! "

TJTiey evade him, and put him off. Litter and litter-

bearers at last come; they toil forward amid the

brushes and vines, Federal batteries are in full play

4pon the road over which A. P. Hill mores to the

E:

alssault. The onward rush of the Confederates has ejarried them to the main line of Hooker's defences,

ajnd he is now making desperate efforts to save himself

from ruin. A storm of canister and round shot beats

i^pon the woods. Riderless horses plunge madly here

ajnd there; stricken soldiers fall on every side \ so

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CHANCELLORSVILLE

close are the opposing lines that one of Jackson's own

staff-officers is borne by his horse into the Federal

lines--dead. The escort of the stricken chief is

within the line of fire; their horses, wild with terror,

break away; one litter-bearer is shot, another runs.

Others grasp the handles, and on they struggle amid

these awful surroundings. A vine catches the foot

of a litter-bearer; he stumbles, and lets the litter

drop. Jackson falls, his mangled shoulder striking

the ground. A piteous groan breaks from the iron

lips, and the fitful moonlight shows a ghastly face

wrenched with a convulsion of pain.

At last, at last, he is out of the fire, and within his

own line, with Fender's brigade--the brigade, prob-

ablv*> ,' which fired the fatal shots.

.

Fender is wounded and nervous; he thinks he had

better fall back a little. He ventures to express that

opinion. The dying warrior speaks quickly, impera- -

tively: "You must hold your ground, General

T

Fender--you must hold your ground, sir! " That

;f

was his last order on the field.

>J

.$

As he lay on his couch next day, Jackson could

.

hear all the sounds of the great battle. He followed

;-.

its every movement with a soldier's interest. He was

proud and pleased when told how his men were fight-

>

ing, with the watchword, " Remember Jackson! " ..

v

"Had I not been wounded, or had another hour

!

of daylight, I would have cut them off from the river,,

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and they would have had to surrender or cut their out"
en came pneumonia, and then delirium: ' Tell A. P. Hill to prepare for action. Pass the iniantry to the front! " jFhen came languor and exhaustion, and a change in ihe spirit of his dream: f Let us cross over the 'river and rest under the shade of the trees."
j

The sunny days of May, 1863, have passed, and it

is now the 8th of June.

JA.t Culpeper Court-House there is a grand review

of Stuart's cavalry. General Lee is there, splendidly

mounted, splendidly dressed, a magnificent soldier,

a {matchless man. Above him, flapping from the

top of a lofty pole, is a large Confederate flag.

Thousands of spectators are present--soldiers, cit

izens, male and female. Xo man ever loved the pag-

eantry of war as Stuart loved it; and this was veri-

tatly his " show day."

{Eight thousand of his cavalry swept by General

Lee, led by Stuart himself, at a gallop; and then, in

sham battle, they charged upon the "Horse Artil

lery." The thunder of war sounded over the plain

arid rolled among the surrounding hills. It was a

glorious day for Stuart--more gloriously joyous and

brilliant than any day he would see again.

The festive day must ever be followed by the

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" sound of revelry by night," and the grand review near Culpeper would have been incomplete without the grand ball which followed.
Ah, the lights and the flowers and the music! Ah, th(e brave men and fair women who danced the happy hours awayf
I wonder how many of those whose feet tripped the gay measure of the dance that night in '63 now walk the evening path toward the setting sun! Is there anywhere in old Virginia a pair of faded slip pers, treasured up, in some secret drawer, as a re minder of the old times, and the Stuart ball ? Is there no circlet of ribbon and little heap of crumbled stems and leaves and blossoms--all that remains of some gorgeous bouquet which beauty wore that night, and kept forever after in memory of the lover, who there danced his last quadrille ?
Many and many a cavalier who mounted and rode away from Culpeper when next the gray dawn was breaking left a riderless horse on the slopes of Gettys burg. For it was after the grand review of June 8th and the grand ball of the night that the Southern host marched to the Xorth--marched in less than thirty days from confidence and success to disaster and doubt--marched down from the sublime exalta tion of Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville to the treacherous bogs and quicksands of Gettysburg; marched from buoyant, radiant, soul-lifting sunlight into everlasting, rayless, heart-breaking night.'
[363]

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I

j IT was in December, 1863, and the chill winds

Were singing dirges throughout the land.

Kot more wintry was the wind than the feelings of

the Southern people. Buoyancy was gone; confident

aggressiveness was gone; glorious exhilaration was

a' thing of the past.

j Nothing had shown this change of feeling more

distinctly than the change in the popular songs.

The screech-owl note of desolation was in them all.

Lorena " was not alone. Its melancholy refrain

was repeated over and over again. " Just before the

Ifattle, mother," " When this cruel war is over,"

": Juanite," " Kitty Wells "--<?ach of these songs had

Multitudinous warblers; and, upon my word, the

broods were just full of such screech-owl music. It

gave one the shivers, and was overwhelming proof of

the disappointment, despondency, and grief that per

vaded the Southern land.

One day at Bethany while I waited for the mail

a locomotive puffed by, pulling a train of freight cars

i jvhich were filled with Yankee prisoners.
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They passed through the town with defiant laugh-

tor, with ringing cheers, and the resounding song of

"John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave,

but his soul is marching on." It was like the blast

of a trumpet. The difference in feeling and expres

sion between these prisoners and their captors was

one of the most striking signs of the times. When

the people upon one side were moping around, wail

ing " Lorena," and those on the other whooped

" John Brown," it took not much of a prophet to

foretell results.

*

The book-writers may say what they please, but I

know that after Gettysburg the mass of the Southern

people lost confidence. The book-writers go to old

newspaper files, to public speeches, and to public doc-

uments, and they find proofs that the South was con-

fident of victory up to the very moment of Lee's sur-

render. Of course, editors, orators, and politicians

were not likely to put upon record a public document

of despair. Even Ben Hill proclaimed that the sun

was not more certain to continue to rise than the

South to win its independence; and some of our news

papers kept Hill's prophecy standing in large letters

on their first page.

.

But a boy who grew up amid the common people

at that fearful time, as I did, cannot be made to for

get the facts, Newspapers and books count for noth

ing against vivid recollections.

The popular enthusiasm which had supplied vol-
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unteers had died down. The country was drained o its resources. Crippled soldiers limped along in, all the roads. Widows, draped in weeds, were the pitiful sights at every little gathering. Fault finding was the fa'shion. Jeff Davis was blamed, tne generals were blamed, the men who brought on the war were blamed. One day I remember ask ing 1
" Mother, who got us into all this trouble ? "
And she answered sadly, not bitterly, " Bob ll'oombs had more to do with it than anybody else." | The Conscript Laws caused angry discontent: the lai w which held for the remainder of the war the soldiers who had enlisted for a year, was another gjrievanee. Disaffection spread. Some said the (jonseript Laws were unconstitutional. Among those
o made public speeches to that effect was Linton Stephens, brother of our Vice-President. Some said Jeff Davis was incompetent. Some said -Lee did not know how to make use of his victories after he had gained them. Some said that if Stonewall had lived the Union army would have been destroyed or cap tured at Chancellorsville. Some said Lee had no business leading his men so far from home into Penn sylvania, and that he was wrong in compelling them to assail such a position as the Yankees held at Gettysburg.
Meanwhile, the enrolling officers were having a time of it. It was their business to gather in the
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willing or unwilling citizen who was subject to mili tary duty. This was not always pleasant duty. But it was fun compared to dealing with the refractory-- the men who swore and be damned that they would not be enrolled, and wrho hid out in the swamps.
And even this gruesome part of the business had a cheerful aspect compared to the job of corralling the actual deserters--the desperate men who had quit the army, determined to die rather than go back. Many a jungle of the South held its deserters. Many a little fight, which the editors never got hold of, took place in the depths of the woods, between Southern deserters and Southern enrolling officers. One of the bravest men ever buried.in our cemetery at Bethany was a Confederate soldier, killed in an obscure con flict of that kind. I was at the funeral; and busy tongues were relating the details of the tragedy, so that my imagination reproduced the scene:
A lone house, in a dismal little clearing, on the skirts of Briar Creek Swamp; a band of deserters within the house; a squad of enrolling officers sur rounding the field at dark, and closing in; a sum mons to the deserters to come out and surrender; the answer, a volley from, doors and windows which lights up the night with a murderous flash; the cry of dying men; the defiant yell of the deserters as they rush out of the house and escape to the swamp.
The year 1863 was the year of woe to us on the [367]

BETHANY
old homestead. Grandfather had another stroke of paralysis; and while he lived, he was helpless. Bis speech was gone; his mind was gone. Poor olid man, his last thought had been for his son-- Ralph.
j In going away the last time, the young soldier had left in his room a cap and a jacket--parts of his mili tary outfit. On the cap was a silken favor, made so as to be worn on the cap, something like a plume. T Whether Nellie had made this for him to wear, I do not know; but he would often use the cap when dlressed to go from the place. Xobocly but a bold, handsome man of well-recognized gallantry would have ventured to don a conspicuous ornament like tjhis> but he did it, and he looked singularly well Tinder it, | This cap, surmounted by the silken scarf, he had left at home, together with the jacket which he was \rearing when he was wounded.
After he had gone from us that last time, poor old ip-andfather used to totter into Ralph's room, and itand looking a long time at those reminders of his favorite boy. To see that hard, furrowed face soften, io see the shaking .hands stroke the pierced jacket and the cap, to see the tears that would flow from the dim eyes--it was pitiful. After a while nothing jwould do'him but that mother must let the jacket jand cap hang on the wall by his bed, so that he could always see them.
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I think that the last look of intelligence that ever came into his eyes rested upon these sacred relics of his soldier-son.

In the summer, Uncle Ralph came home sick. We

were not uneasy about him at the time, for his com

plaint, while debilitating, was common enough, and

its name excited no terrors then. With rest, proper

treatment, good food, and pure water, he would

soon be well again. So he believed: so we be

lieved.

We made him as comfortable as we could in one

of the " company" rooms, where it was more con

venient and more cheerful. From this room he had

a view of the Big Road, and of the greater part of

the farm. He was shocked to find his father in so

shattered a condition, and he could not get accus

tomed to the fact that he would never know him

again. To see him make the trial afresh every morn

ing, to see him take the palsied hand, and ask:

"Father, you know me, don't you?" and to see him

eagerly look into the dim, vacant eyes for recogni

tion which was never more to come there, would

have moved you to profound sympathy.

Yes, ours was a gloomy home in 1863. There was

nothing we could do for grandfather but nurse his

body; for TJncle Ralph we tried to nurse both mind

and body. We encouraged cheeidrul visitors to come;

we brought him all the latest newspapers we could

25

[369]

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BETHANY

j.

gel; we did our best to keep him full of hope, and

actively interested in the farm affairs, and the prog-

res's of the war.

{During his long illness, there was nothing which

came so near to bringing him back to his old self as

a letter from some friend in the army. The moment

his mind became fixed upon that subject, he forgot

foir the time how sick he was.

! One day he got a letter from Pres Morris, a dear

friend, who was one of Longstreet's couriers. Uncle

Ralph read the letter first himself, and that night

we had him read it to us.

| In this letter Pres was giving to Ralph an account

of the invasion of Pennsylvania and the battle of

Gettysburg. He said that the people of Pennsyl-

vfcnia had shown great hostility to the Confed

erates. Discipline had been strict, and no damage

to private property had been allowed. The writer

related a little incident which caused us to laugh.

The Confederates were passing a house in the coun

try, where an old farmer was sitting on his piazza,

g azing at the troops as they went by. A number of

the thirsty men had crowded into the yard to draw

water at the well. The highway being too narrow for

the ma'rching column, some of the files were over on

' le inside of the wheat-field, trampling the grain as

hey went along to the width of perhaps ten feet on

side of the road.

The old farmer was aghast. Without moving from

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his chair, he sang out in a voice of wondering selfcommiseration:
" I have heard of war, and I have read of war, but this devastation exceeds my wildest dream! "
The letter then spoke of how the great battle of Gettysburg had come about, almost accidentally.
The report in the army was .that Stuart had not kept Lee posted.: The cavalry was off on some .raid or other, instead of being close up to the flank of the Confederate army. Thus, Lee could not know the facts that he should have known.
It was understood in Longstreet's corps that the Confederates under Heath had come upon a detach ment of the enemy, and had driven them to Get tysburg, and that Ewell had driven them out of Gettysburg. At this time the Yankees were broken, and were fleeing in disorder, and were rushing in wild confusion up Cemetery Hill.
This was four o'clock in the afternoon, and nearly every private soldier in the Confederate army had asked to know why the pursuit was not kept up until Cemetery Ridge was in our possession. One and all, the Confederates blamed the loss of the battle to the original failure of their officers to press forward on that first evening.
On the second day, General Lee was up, but was not familiar either with the ground or with the numbers and positions of the enemy. Stuart was sadly needed, and had been sent for, but was not
[371]

BETHANY
ydt on the field. Lee rode from place to place, ex amining the ground to decide his point of attack; and so late as ten o'clock he was still reconnoitering and consulting.
Then Longstreet's great charge was made, which failed for want of timely support.
The courier described how, on the third day, Longstreet and his staff were sitting under the trees, shel tered from the enemy's fire, awaiting Lee's orders, and ready to move.
He said that the two generals, Lee and Longstreet, had had a conference,/ when the\yj met on horseback earlier that morning, and that Longstreet had . strongly opposed the order which Lee was about to issue for Pickett's charge. He stated positively that j xmgstreet's whole staff was discussing the matter ihere and then, and that he, Morris,, heard the staff Repeat what Longstreet had said to Lee.
The courier declared that it was ten o'clock before Longstreet got his orders to move on that third day, .and that he opened fire at once. He declared that [Longstreet in person directed some of his artillery. {The courier described the splendid dash of Pickett's men. Xothing could have been finer than that charge. But he also spoke of its failure, and of the manner in which our boys came skedaddling back. I remember particularly that Morris spoke of a rail fence which had been there in the morning, and which he himself had climbed over. In the stampede of
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Pickett's men this fence disappeared as if a hurricane

had struck it; and he declared that he saw Pickett

himself scurrying to the rear, whipping his horse with

his hat.

" My gracious! " exclaimed my mother. " I didn't

know our bo*y> s would run like that! " Kalph smiled a little, and explained: "Why,

Martha, when a charge against the breastworks

fails, what else is there to do but to run? The

boys can't stand there like fools to be shot .down.

They must retreat out of the range of the guns. And

when you haye got to run, the faster you run the

better."

:

" But to think of the braye Pickett whipping his

horse with his hat to make him go faster."

" Well, suppose he did," said Uncle Ealph. " It

proves nothing more than that Pickett wanted the

horse to do his best. Why, the bravest men, if they've

got any sense, sometimes run. If the odds are dead

against you, why throw away your life ? "

" You wouldn't run, would you, Uncle Ralph ? " I

asked. I was sure that he would not. My wildest

fancy could not picture Uncle Ralph doing any ske

daddling.

" I've run like a turkey several times. So has every

other soldier who has seen much fighting. Why,

didn't I see General -Teb Stuart running from a squad

Of Yankees, who had come upon him when he was

alone at a place where he had stopped to take a nap?

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BETHANY

From the way he kept digging the sides of his horse

with his boot-heels, I reckon he would have whipped

hte horse with his hat, if he had had anv hat"

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I" Where was his hat ? " I asked innocently.

|" The Yankees had it," answered my uncle. " I

tell you it was a close shave that Stuart made that

day. They'd like to have got him."

I Resuming the letter, Uncle Ralph read what

Morris had to say about Piekett's charge as compared

to that of General Ranse Wright's Georgians the

djay before.

Pres Morris, being a native Georgian, dwelt upon

the charge of the Third Georgia Regiment on the

second day of the battle. He said that General A. R.

right ordered the movement at half-past five in the

ening. The regiment moved down through the

Troods of Seminary Ridge into the open field, and

c.own into the valley, where their ranks were swept

by terrible fire from the enemy on the other side, on

Cemetery Ridge. Through the smoke and the car

nage the heroes moved on and crossed the Emmets-

lurg road. .From behind a stone wall the infantry

>f the enemy raked the advancing line with volleys

f musketry. Leaping the wall, the Georgians put

he enemy to rout, seizing artillery horses, shooting

he riders, and cutting traces from the caissons.

The guns captured, the enemy put to flight, the

Georgians pressed on to the crest of the hill. A Fed-

ral battery in vain poured upon them a hail of iron.

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The Georgians stormed the guns and took them,--

thirteen pieces; and thus, by a brilliant dash which

soldiers never surpassed, they had cut Meade's army

in twain. Oh, if they had been supported then!

The latter also told us how General Lee had

nobly declared that the defeat was all his fault.

When a foreign officer, who had witnessed the

battle, remarked to Longstreet, " I would not have

missed this for a great deal," Lee's " old war-horse "

made reply, " Well, I would give a good deal to

have missed it."

Had he known that the time would come--Lee

being dead--when he would be made the Gettysburg

scapegoat, his regrets might have taken much more

emphatic form.

-

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Week had followed week, and Uncle Ralph did not get well. Very feeble when he reached home, he was very feeble still. His malady was obstinate, re sisted treatment, and it was evident that he did not improve. He was not able to go anywhere; could walk but a short distance; and was exceedingly weak.
Between him and his sweetheart frequent notes had passed, but he had never been able'to visit her since his return. Every day brought the hope that he would be better to-morrow and could go to see her, and the to-morrow found him always too ill to go.
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BETHANY
It was distressing to the last degree to watch his
d. isi appointment, as the days flew by, leaving him no improvement.
Then, with dismay, we became conscious of his decline. He could not leave the yard; his strength would fail him at the gate.
There he would stand, looking wistfully southward --!-to the piney-woods--till his limbs would begin to tremble, and then he would feebly totter back to the house.
Then he became too weak to reach the gate--would slop On the piazza, and sit hour by hour, looking so cuI st-down that m"v heart bled for him. Then with that gaze of unutterable longing and despair--to the staith--he would make his way back to his room.
Then the day came when he could not leave his rx>m.
It was long ago, a very long time ago, and yet I sjee him now, as I have seen him a thousand times dince, painfully dragging one foot after the other ground his bed, holding on to the tall posts of the eld-time tester-bed. To this brief circuit had shrunk Jill his strength--this painful creeping around the tester-bed!
Who was it that told him that Xellie Roberts had Ipeen stricken with typhoid fever? Not I--not pother; it must have been some thoughtless visitor jsvhom we had neglected to caution.
At any rate, he learned it; and every faculty he
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possessed seemed centred upon that one subject. Every day a messenger had to be sent to inquire how she was. Every day the messenger was instructed by us what to say to him: " She is getting on well." How could we tell him that the disease had seized her malignantly, inexorably, from the first ? How could we say to him that her fever was rising, her strength failing, and that the worst was feared ?
To have told him so would have been more bar barous than to have stabbed him. So the messenger continued to say, " She is doing well."
But he was restless, uneasy; consumed by impa tient longing, by heart-eating anxiety and fear.
Oh, those dreadful, dreadful days! Would they never end ? Would smiles and hopes never come back again to our old homestead ?
Of course my mother visited the sick lady from time to time, for we felt that she was almost one of us. After the third week of her illness had passed, my uncle wanted me to go. Nothing else would sat isfy him. So I went, not certain that I would be permitted to enter the sick room. But when I was taken into the parlor, and the grief-stricken parents had talked with me a while, the colored house-girl f who waited in Nellie's room came down and told Mrs. Roberts that the young mistress wished 'to see me.
I went up the stairs with my heart in my mouth-- [377]

BETHANY

J excited that when the girl opened the room-door

.for me I stood there in a kind of daze.

j A white hand moved on the bed, and beckoned: a

wieak voice called me,' and I went toward the sick lady, trembling. She made the negro girl leave the

r6om, and we two were left alone.

When I saw the wasted face, framed in blue-black

hair which curled over the pillow, and saw how very

si' ck she was; how weak, how far from what she used to be--I could not help myself--LI turned away my

head and began to cry. She said nothing for a

TJ-hile, but when I had gained a little self-control,

sue bade me very gently to come to her bedside.

As if she had been my sister, she stroked my hair

y, and began to ask me about Uncle Ralph.

Was he very ill ? Was he able to get out of the

iouse ? Did he have any relish -for food ? Was he

imch changed? Did he seem cheerful? Was he

^nuch worried on her account ?

| As much as I dared, I told her, and she listened

Jntently--her great luminous eyes fixed on mine.

I " Little man, look in the writing-desk in the

|drawer to the right, and bring me the album-book

jwhich I showed you once."

| I fumbled about a good deal, I fear, but found the

{P1 boIotk.wanads

brought it to the bed. the red-bound book in

which

was

the

pretty

poetry which she had let me read, that day in the

parlor.

[378]

IT IS FINISHED
" Look," she said to me. She held the book in her thin hands, and it opened of itself at the place where a flower had been pressed. The paper of the leaves showed the stain where the fresh bud had moistened them; and a faint odor ex haled from the sere, dry flower, which lay flattened in the midst of the book. " Dp you know it, little man ? " she asked me. I did not recognize the flower, and said so. " Don't you remember the Sunday when you gave me that rose at the Baptist Church ?" Oh, then I remembered! And a rush of recollec tions poured over me. The sunny day in the Big Road, the Bethany Guards, the brilliant banner, Uncle Ralph going off to the war, and the Cherokee rose which he bade me carry to Nellie! Yes, I remembered then! And when I looked down at the Belle of the Piney-woods, seeing what she had come to be, and thought of Uncle Ralph tottering around his bed, I was almost beside myself with grief. " Don't cry, little man. When you go home, tell Ralph you saw the flower he sent me the day he went off to the war. Tell him I have pressed my lips to it a thousand times while he was away. Tell him to make haste and get well. And tell him not to worry about me. It will all come right" . Then she drew me close to her, and said, " Kiss me, little man!
[379]

BETHANY .

"Now, good-by! Tell Ralph to make haste and

get well."

How did I ever manage it--the telling to my

ulncle of all that was sweet to him in this sad inter

view without revealing what was bitter ? Somehow,

I must have done it, for he wore the brightest, se-

renest look afterward which he had worn in many a

day. He did not fret and worry himself so much.

One could see in him a manly patience, and the

fortitude of resignation.

j And many a time, when he and I were alone, he

TJrould have me relate again everything concerning

t}ie flower and the book.

| She could not have done anything which would

iave gladdened his heart more, for in a maiden's

modest way she had proved that she had loved him

all along--had never loved anyone btit him.

i He had needed consolation---needed it sorely--

;md it does me good, even to this day, to remember

;hat I was able to understand how to tell him about

:he faded flower his sweetheart had kept.

Early one morning, much before our daily mes

senger had been in the habit of starting upon his

journey to the Roberts place, there came a " Hello! "

at our front gate.

Mother-heard, and went out.

Alas! Uncle Ralph heard it, too.

By a mighty effort he reached the door of his

[room.

i

[3801

IT IS FINISHED
A black boy at the fence was telling mother some thing in a low voice, and she also was talking low.
Uncle Ralph was holding his door slightly ajar, clinging on to it for support, his face--r-the pallid, wasted face--drawn into a frightened tension I had never seen on any face before.
As my mother passed into the house, he asked, " What is it, Martha ?"
She put him off with some evasion--I forget what --and went about her household affairs, weeping
as she did so. Uncle Ralph shut the door, and tottered back to
his chair. " Nellie's dead." He said it as if talking to himself. He said it in
a tone which betrayed no doubt, no bitterness, no re bellion. A boundless despair was in his eyes and face and voice. It was the end of the world. There was nothing more to do, or hope, or think, or feel. It was the end of all, of all.
" Nellie's dead." He certainly had not overheard what was said by the negro boy; he had learned nothing from my mother; but he knew, he knew. No evasions, no denials could lift him any more. It was the end of the world. In a little while he began to take off his clothes. He wanted to get into the bed. When he unfastened his shirt, he drew out the gold sleeve-buttons--fash-
[381]

BETHANY
IOT]ed to resemble sea-shells--and, taking me into his arms, he hugged me with all his old-time tenderness, an<i put the buttons in my hand.
'' I give you these to remember me by," he said. ^Ve helped him into the bed, and he never rose oui; of it again. Day after day he weakened. Of evenings, AVilson and I would go out into the pas ture, where there was fat lightwood to be easily split from off the pine stumps, and we would cut enough to !keep up a blaze in Uncle Ralph's room all through
the night. He was so low now that we sat up with him reg
ularly. Slowly he sank, sank, sank, saying little to any-
orie. He barely lived. One night late, he had been sleeping and had
wiked up, looking bright and happy. " Sister," he called, faintly, to my mother. She went and bent over him. " Sister, I had a beautiful dream. I dreamed that
I was in a strange place, with strange faces all around nrte, and strange voices; but when I looked up there wjas Xellie, standing on a bank of white clouds, look ing at me, smiling at me, holding out her hands to me, motioning to me! Oh, sister, how lovely she was! When I tried to go to her, I woke up. But, sister, I will find her again! Among all the angels in the heavens/1 will know her. They cannot hide her from me; I will find her again! "
[388]

IT IS FINISHED

My mother soothed him, and he soon dropped off

to .sleep.



Xext morning he did not wake,

lie was dead.

(4)

THE ENI>

[383]