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

by John Esten Cooke

  [Footnote 1: Fact.]

  It was a stubborn, a superb struggle. Three times the enemy's gunswere charged and captured; three times the Confederates were furiouslycharged in turn, and the pieces recaptured by the enemy.[1] A finalcharge of the gray cavalry carried all before it. The Federal artillerywas seized upon, and their cavalry driven back--but at that moment aheavier force still was seen advancing upon Stuart from the direction ofKelly's ford.

  [Footnote 1: Fact.]

  It was a splendid spectacle. They came on in solid column, and rapidlyformed line of battle on the slope of Fleetwood, with drawn sabres, andflags floating. As they moved they seemed to shake the very ground.I had never before seen so great a force of cavalry drawn up--and thecritical moment of the battle had plainly come.

  At that instant the great field presented a remarkable appearance.Cavalry were charging in every direction, and it was hard to tell friendfrom foe. Stuart was fighting, so to say, from the centre outwards. Theenemy were in his front, in his rear, and on both his flanks. If theyclosed in, apparently, he would be crushed as in a vice. The iron handwould strangle him.

  That moment tested the nerves. Stuart's "heart of oak" bore the strain.He was aroused, stung, his cheeks burned, his eyes flamed--but the manwas sufficient for the work. I looked closely at him. "Do or die"was plain on his face. From that instant I never had any doubts aboutStuart.

  He rushed two pieces of artillery to a knoll in front of the line ofFederal horsemen. A moment afterward two reports were heard, and twoshell burst precisely in the middle of the line, making a wide gap init, and checking the charge which had begun.[1]

  [Footnote 1: Fact.]

  All at once I saw a column of cavalry coming up from the river, andturning to Stuart, said:--

  "General, what cavalry is that?"

  "Hampton's!" Stuart exclaimed. "Bring it up like lightning!"[1]

  [Footnote 1: His words.]

  I set out at full gallop, and soon reached the column. At the head ofit rode Young, the _beau sabreur_ of Georgia, erect, gallant, with hisbrave eye and smile.

  I pointed out the enemy and gave the order.

  "All right!" exclaimed Young, and, turning to his men, he whirled hissabre around his head and shouted,

  "Forward!"

  The column thundered on, and as it passed I recognized Mohun, hisflashing eye and burnished sabre gleaming from the dust-cloud.

  In five minutes they were in front of the enemy--the men wheeled andfaced the Federal line.

  "Charge!" rose from a hundred lips. Spurs were buried in the hot flanks;the mass was hurled at the enemy; and clashing like thunder, swordagainst sword, swept every thing before it. Not a single shot wasfired--the sabre only was used. The enemy were broken to pieces--whatI saw was a wild melee of whirling swords, flying horses, men cloven tothe chin, while others were seen throwing themselves from the saddle,and raising their hands to escape the keen swordsmen slashing atthem.[1]

  [Footnote 1: Fact.]

  The great force of the enemy sweeping down on Stuart's flank was thusrouted. The spectacle which followed was ludicrous as well as exciting.The enemy fled in disorder. Never before had I seen the nails in thehind shoes of hundreds of horses--myriads of horses' tails streaminglike meteors as they ran!

  The force disappeared in the woods, hotly pursued by their foes. Thedust followed them in a great cloud--from that cloud arose yells andcheers--cannon thundered; carbines rattled;--but that sound receded moreand more rapidly toward the river.

  On our left the brave William H.F. Lee had been as successful. He hadcharged and repulsed the enemy, falling wounded at the head of hismen. They had not again advanced upon him. Near the Barbour House hepresented an unbroken front to them.

  Stuart held with his cavalry, indeed, the whole Fleetwood range. Thelong thunder of his artillery said to the enemy,

  "Come on!"

  They did not come. They went back. Their cavalry had crossed the riverto ascertain the meaning of the great review. They had discoverednothing, after heavy loss. The ground was strewed with their dead anddying--they retired, shattered and bleeding.

  Stuart's loss was also great--even his staff was not spared. One of mybrother staff officers was killed, another wounded, a third captured.

  But Stuart had won the greatest cavalry fight of the war.

  IX.

  MOHUN FAINTS AT THE RIGHT MOMENT.

  In a room of the "Barbour House" on Fleetwood Hill, Stuart was writing adispatch to General Lee.

  It was nearly sunset, and the red light was streaming through thewindows. On the floor lay a number of wounded men, groaning piteously.Busily attending to their wants were two young girls--the daughters ofJudge Conway, whom I had seen on the night of the ball.

  The young ladies, I afterward discovered, had been on a visit to thefamily occupying the Barbour House; had courageously remained during thewhole of the battle--and they were now busily attending to the wants ofthe wounded.

  I was gazing at the eldest--the superb beauty with the disdainful eyes,who had held that wit-combat with her circle of admirers--when Stuartfinished his dispatches, and turned around.

  "Any reports?" he said briefly to a member of his staff.

  "None, general--except that Colonel Mohun is reported killed."

  "Mohun! It is impossible! He drove the enemy, and was unhurt. I wouldnot swap him for a hundred, nor a thousand of the enemy!"

  "Thank you, general!" said a sonorous voice behind us.

  And Mohun entered, making the military salute as he did so.

  In his bearing I could discern the same cool pride, mingled with satire.There was only one change in him. He was paler than ever, and I couldsee that his right shoulder was bloody.

  As he entered, Miss Georgia Conway, who was bending over a woundedsoldier, raised her head and looked at him. Mohun's eye met her own, andhe bowed ceremoniously, taking no further notice of her.

  At this exhibition of careless indifference I could see Miss Conway'sface flush. An expression of freezing hauteur came to the beautifullips; and the disdainful glance indicated that her _amour propre_ wasdeeply wounded.

  She turned her back upon him abruptly--but as Mohun had already turnedhis, the movement failed in its object. The officer was looking atStuart, who had grasped his hand. He winced as the general pressed it,and turned paler, but said nothing.

  "Then you are not dead, Mohun!" exclaimed Stuart, laughing.

  "Not in the least, general, I am happy to inform you," replied Mohun.

  "I am truly glad to hear it! What news?"

  "Our party is all over. We followed them up until they recrossed theriver--and I owed them this little piece of politeness for I recognizedan old acquaintance in the commander of the squadron."

  "An acquaintance?"

  "A certain Colonel Darke--a charming person, general." And Mohunlaughed.

  "I recognized him yonder when we charged on the hill, and, at first, hefollowed his men when they broke. As I got close to him, however, in thewoods, he recognized me in turn, and we crossed swords. He is brave--noman braver; and he did his utmost to put an end to me. I had somewhatsimilar views myself in reference to my friend, the colonel, but his meninterposed and prevented my carrying them out. They were all around me,slashing away. I was nearly cut out of the saddle--I was carried awayfrom my friend in the melee--and the unkindest cut of all was hisparting compliment as he retreated through the river."

  "What was that, Mohun?"

  "A bullet from his pistol, which grazed my shoulder. A mere scratch, butprovoking. I saw him grin as he fired."

  "An old friend on the Yankee side? Well, that happens," said Stuart--

  "Frequently, general," said Mohun; "and this one was _very_ dear,indeed--most tenderly attached to me, I assure you. My affection for himis of the same endearing nature: and we only crossed sabres in jest--amere fencing bout for amusement. We would not hurt each other forworlds!"

  And Mohun's mustache curled with laughter. There was
something restlessand sinister in it.

  Suddenly his face grew paler, and his eyes were half closed.

  "Well, Mohun," said Stuart, who was not looking at him; "I am going tosend you across the river on a reconnaissance to-night."

  "All right, general."

  And the officer made the military salute. As he did so, he staggered,and Stuart raised his eyes.

  "You are wounded!" he exclaimed.

  "A trifle," laughed Mohun.

  But as he spoke, his frame tottered; his face assumed the hue of acorpse; and he would have fallen, had not Miss Georgia Conway startedup unconsciously from the wounded man whom she was attending to, andsupported the officer in her arms.

  Mohun opened his eyes, and a grim smile came to his pale face.

  "A pretty tableau!" I heard him murmur; "it would do to put in aromance. A cup of tea--or a pistol--that would finish--"

  As he uttered these singular words, the blood gushed from his woundedshoulder, his eyes closed, and, his head falling on the bosom of theyoung girl, he fainted.

  X.

  THE SLIM ANIMAL.

  Fleetwood was the first gun of the great campaign which culminatedon the heights of Gettysburg. A week afterward, Lee's columns were inmotion toward Pennsylvania.

  Was that invasion the dictate of his own judgment? History will answer.What is certain is, that the country, like the army, shouted "Forward!"The people were ablaze with wild enthusiasm; the soldiers flushedwith the pride of their great victories of Fredericksburg andChancellorsville. The authorities at Richmond shared the excitement,and the commissary-general, with unwonted humor, or in sober earnest,indorsed, it is said, upon a requisition for supplies: "If General Leewishes rations, let him seek them in Pennsylvania."

  I doubt if the great commander shared the general agitation. I think heaimed to draw Hooker out of Virginia, leaving the rest to Providence. Sohe moved toward the Potomac.

  The world had called Lee cautious. After this invasion, that charge wasnot repeated. From first to last audacity seemed the sentiment inspiringhim.

  With Hooker on the Rappahannock, threatening Richmond, Lee thrust hisadvance force under Ewell through the Blue Ridge toward Maryland; pushedLongstreet up to Culpeper to support him, and kept only A.P. Hill atFredericksburg to bar the road to the Confederate capital.

  Hooker wished to advance upon it, but President Lincoln forbade him. Thedispatch was a queer official document.

  "In case you find Lee coming to the north of the Rappahannock," Lincolnwrote, "I would by no means cross to the south of it. I would not takeany risk of being entangled upon the river, _like an ox jumped half overa fence, and liable to be torn by dogs, front and rear, without a fairchance to gore one way or kick the other._"

  Ludicrous perhaps, but to the point; the "Rail-Splitter" was not alwaysdignified, but often judicious. Chancellorsville had been defeat--Lee'sassault, foreboded thus by Lincoln, would be death.

  Hooker fell back, therefore, in the direction of Washington. Lee hadforeseen that fact, and had given himself small anxiety. His three corpswere already in full motion toward the Potomac; and suddenly the thunderof artillery came on the winds of the mountains.

  Ewell, the head of the Southern spear, was driving at Milroy, holdingWinchester. The struggle was brief. General Milroy had put the ironheel on the poor valley; had oppressed the unfortunate people beyond thepower of words--and suddenly the hand of Fate clutched and shook him todeath. Ewell stormed his "Star Fort" near Winchester, with the bayonet;drove him to headlong flight; got in rear of him, capturing nearly allhis command; and poor Milroy scarce managed to escape, with a smallbody-guard, beyond the Potomac.

  "In my opinion Milroy's men will fight better _under a soldier!_"

  It was his commanding officer, Hooker, who wrote those words a few daysafterward. From the hands of his own general came that unkindest cut!

  Exit Milroy, thus amid hisses and laughter--the hornet's nest atWinchester was swept away--and Ewell headed straight for Pennsylvania.

  Longstreet came up rapidly to fill the gap in the line--Hill followedLongstreet--and then the world beheld the singular spectacle of an armyextended in a long skirmish line over a hundred miles, with another armymassed not daring to assail it.

  Hooker did not see his "opening;" but Lincoln did. One of his dispatcheshas been quoted--here is another as amusing and as judicious.

  "If the head of Lee's army is at Martinsburg," Lincoln wrote Hooker,"and the tail of it on the Plank road, between Fredericksburg andChancellorsville, _the animal must be very slim somewhere--could you notbreak him?_"

  But Hooker could not. He did not even try. Lee's movements seemed toparalyze him--his chief of staff wrote:--

  "We cannot go boggling round, until we know what we are going after."

  "Boggling round" exactly described the movements of Hooker. He wasstill in a grand fog, and knew nothing of his adversary's intent, whena terrific cry arose among the well-to-do farmers of Pennsylvania.The wolf had appeared in the fold. Ewell was rapidly advancing uponHarrisburg.

  Behind came the veteran corps of Hill and Longstreet. The gorges of theBlue Ridge were alive with bristling bayonets. Then the waters of thePotomac splashed around the waists of the infantry and the wheels of theartillery carriages. Soon the fields of Maryland and Pennsylvania werealive with "rebels," come, doubtless, to avenge the outrages of Pope andMilroy. Throughout those commonwealths--through Philadelphia, New York,and Boston--rang the cry, "Lee is coming!"

  To return to the cavalry. The horsemen of Stuart were going to move inan eccentric orbit. These are my _memoirs_, reader, not a history of thewar; I describe only what I saw, and am going to ask you now, to "followthe feather" of Stuart.

  Stuart was promptly in the saddle, and when Lee began to move, advancednorth of the Rappahannock, drawing a cordon of cavalry across the roadsabove Middleburg, to guard the approaches to the mountain.

  The result was that the infantry defiled through the Blue Ridge withoutHooker's knowledge. He knew that something was going on, but there hisinformation terminated. The troopers of Stuart kept watch over fifteenmiles of front, and through this wall of sabres the Federal eye couldnot pierce.

  Stuart is regarded by many as only a brave "raider." It was on occasionslike this, however, that he performed his greatest services. Everywherehe confronted the enemy in stubborn battle; and the work was hard. Itwas fighting, fighting, fighting--now, as in 1862, when he covered Lee'sretreat after Sharpsburg. Day and night the cavalry had no rest. Thecrack of carbines, the clash of sabres, and the roar of cannon wereincessant. It was a war of giants which Fauquier and Loudoun saw inthose days--and not until the rear of Lee's column had nearly reachedthe Potomac, did General Hooker by a desperate effort succeed in drivingStuart back.

  In these pages I must leave that obstinate struggle undescribed. It wasfull of romantic scenes, and illustrated by daring courage: but all islost to view in the lurid smoke of Gettysburg.

  With one scene in the hurrying drama I shall pass to greater events.

  But first, I beg to introduce to the reader a very singular personage,who is destined to play an important part in the history I am writing.

  XI.

  NIGHTHAWK.

  It was the night of the 20th of June, 1863. Stuart's head-quarters hadbeen established in a house on the roadside above Middleburg.

  We had been fighting all day; had returned only at nightfall: and I wasexchanging a few words with Stuart, before following the staff to rest,when all at once a third personage, who seemed to have arisen from thefloor, stood before us.

  His presence was so sudden and unexpected that I started. Then I lookedat him, curiously.

  He was a man of about forty, thin, wiry, and with a nose resemblingthe beak of a bird of prey. His eyes, half buried under bushy eyebrows,twinkled like two stars. His mouth was large and smiling; his expressionexceedingly benignant. From the face I passed to the costume. The worthywas clad in severe black, with a clerical white cravat:
wore a blackbeaver hat of the "stove-pipe" order; and presented the appearance ofa pious and peaceable civilian--almost that of a clergyman, smilingbenignantly upon all around him.

  Stuart uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.

  "Ah! Nighthawk, here you are!" he said.

  And turning to me he introduced the new comer as "Mr. Nighthawk, one ofmy 'private friends,' and true as steel."

  Mr. Nighthawk bowed with an air of smiling respect--of benignantsweetness.

  "I am glad to know you, colonel, and hope I may have an opportunity ofbeing of service to you some day," he said.

  The voice was low, soft, and accorded with the mild expression of thecountenance.

  "Well, what news, Nighthawk?" asked Stuart; "experience tells me thatyou have something of importance to communicate?"

  "Ah, general!"

  "Yes. You pass in the cavalry by the name of the 'man before thebattle,' for you always turn up then."

  Mr. Nighthawk smiled.

  "I try to give you information, general; and perhaps I have somenews. But first of my visits to Boston, New York, Philadelphia, andWashington, where I saw many of our friends."

  And in his low, quiet voice Mr. Nighthawk, who had taken a seat andsmoothed down his white cravat, proceeded to speak of his travels andwhat he had seen.

  The narrative astounded me. He spoke without reserve, for General Stuarthad informed him that he might do so before me; and I was startledto find the number of private friends the South had in the North.Mr. Nighthawk was evidently _au fait_ at his trade. He had a perfectunderstanding plainly with persons of the highest political position;and Stuart listened with the greatest interest to the speaker, whose lowvoice never rose above the half-whisper by which I had been impressed onhis first opening his lips.