All at once, however, a voice at the door responded:--
"I think you are mistaken, general!"
And he who had uttered these words advanced into the apartment.
He was a young man, about twenty-three, of medium height, graceful, andwith a smile of charming good humor upon the lips. His hair was lightand curling; his eyes blue; his lips shaded by a slender mustache. Hisuniform was brand new, and decorated with the braid of a lieutenant.Yellow gauntlets reached his elbow, he wore a shiny new satchel, and inhis hand carried a brown felt hat, caught up with a golden star.
Stuart grasped his hand warmly.
"Here you are, old fellow!" he exclaimed.
And turning to the company, he added:--
"My new aid-de-camp, Lieutenant Herbert, ladies. A fop--but an oldsoldier. Take that seat by Colonel Surry, Tom."
And every one sat down, and attacked the supper.
I had shaken hands with Tom Herbert, who was far from being a strangerto me, as I had met him frequently in the drawing-rooms of Richmondbefore the war. He was a fop, but the most charming of fops, when Ifirst knew him. He wore brilliant waistcoats, variegated scarfs, diamondstuds, and straw-colored kid gloves. In his hand he used to flourish anivory-headed whalebone cane, and his boots were of feminine delicacyand dimensions. Such was Tom at that time, but the war had "broughthim out." He had rushed into the ranks, shouldered a musket, and foughtbravely. So much I knew--and I was soon to hear how he had come to beStuart's aid.
The supper was charming. The young girls waited on us with mocksubmission and delighted smiles. Tom and I had fallen to the lot of alittle princess with golden ringlets; and Miss Katy Dare--that was hername--acquitted herself marvellously. We supped as though we expectedto eat nothing for the next week--and then having finished, we rose, andwaited in turn on the fair waiters.
Behind every chair now stood an officer in uniform.
Bright eyes, rosy cheeks, jewelled hands, glossy curls--there was thepicture, my dear reader, which we beheld as we "waited" at that magicalsupper near Buckland. When we wrapped our capes around us, and fellasleep on the floor, the little maidens still laughed in our dreams![1]
[Footnote 1: A real incident.]
XVI.
AN HONEST FOP.
Stuart moved again at dawn. The scene of the preceding evening hadpassed away like a dream. We were in the saddle, and advancing.
Riding beside Lieutenant Tom Herbert, I conversed with that worthy, andfound the tedious march beguiled by his gay and insouciant talk.
His "record" was simple. He had volunteered in the infantry, and at thebattle of Cold Harbor received a wound in the leg which disqualified himfor a foot-soldier thenceforward. His friends succeeded in procuringfor him the commission of lieutenant, and he was assigned to duty asdrill-master at a camp of instruction near Richmond.
"Here I was really in clover, old fellow," said Tom, laughingly "no moretoils, no more hardships, no bullets, or hard tack, or want of soap.A snowy shirt every day--kid gloves if I wanted them--and the sound ofcannon at a very remote distance to lull me to repose, my boy. Thingshad changed, they had indeed! I looked back with scorn on the heavymusket and cartridge-box. I rode a splendidly groomed horse, wore a newuniform shining with gold braid, a new cap covered with ditto, bootswhich you could see your face in, a magnificent sash, and spurs solong and martial that they made the pavement resound, and announced myapproach at the distance of a quarter of a mile! I say the pavement; Iwas a good deal on the pavement--that of the fashionable Franklin streetbeing my favorite haunt. And as the Scripture says, it is not good forman to be alone, I had young ladies for companions. My life was grand,superb--none of your low military exposure, like that borne by themiserable privates and officers in the field! I slept in town, livedat a hotel, mounted my horse after breakfast, at the Government stablesnear my lodgings and went gallantly at a gallop, to drill infantryfor an hour or two at the camp of instruction. This was a bore,I acknowledge, but life can not be all flowers. It was soon over,however--I galloped gallantly back--dined with all the courses at myhotel, and then lit my cigar and strolled up Franklin. I wore my uniformand spurs on these promenades--wild horses tearing me would not haveinduced me to doff the spurs! They were so martial! They jingled so!They gave a military and ferocious set-off to my whole appearance, andwere immensely admired by the fair sex! Regularly on coming back frommy arduous and dangerous duties at camp, I brushed my uniform, put on myred sash, and with one hand resting with dignity on my new sword belt,advanced to engage the enemy--on Franklin street."
Tom Herbert's laugh was contagious; his whole bearing so sunny and_riante_ that he was charming.
"Well, how did you awake from your _dolce far niente?_" I said.
"By an effort of the will, old fellow--for I really could not standthat. It was glorious, delightful--that war-making in town; but therewas a thorn in it. I was ashamed of myself. 'Tom Herbert you are not asoldier, you are an impostor,' I said; 'you are young, healthy, as goodfood for powder as anybody else, and yet here you are, safely laid awayin a bomb-proof, while your friends are fighting. Wake, rouse yourself,my friend! The only way to regain the path of rectitude is to go back tothe army!"
"I said that, Surry," Tom continued, "and as I could not go back intothe infantry on account of my leg, I applied for an assignment to dutyin the cavalry. Then the war office had a time of it. I besieged thenabobs of the red tape day and night, and they got so tired of me atlast that they told me to find a general who wanted an aid and theywould assign me."
"Well, as I was coming out of the den I met General Jeb Stuart going in.I knew him well, and he was tenth cousin to my grandmother, which youknow counts for a great deal in Virginia."
"What's the matter, Tom?" he said.
"I want a place in the cavalry, general."
"What claim have you?"
"Shot in the leg--can't walk--am tired of drilling men in bomb-proof."
"Good!" he said. "That's the way to talk. Come in here."
"And he dragged me along. I found that one of his aids had just beencaptured--he wanted another, and he applied for me. A month afterwardhis application was approved--short for the war office. That wasfive days ago. I got into the saddle,--pushed for the Rapidan--got toMiddleburg--and arrived in time for supper."
"That's my history, old fellow, except that I have just fallen inlove--with the young angel who waited on me at supper, Miss Katy Dare.I opened the campaign in a corner last night--and I intend to win her,Surry, or perish in the attempt!"
XVII.
STUART GRAZES CAPTURE.
As Tom Herbert uttered these words, a loud shout in front startled us.
Stuart had ridden on ahead of his column, through the immense desertedcamps around Wolf Run Shoals, attended only by two or three staffofficers.
As I now raised my head quickly, I saw him coming back at headlongspeed, directing his horse by means of the halter only, and hotlypursued by a detachment of Federal cavalry, firing on him as theypressed, with loud shouts, upon his very heels.
"Halt!" shouted the enemy. And this order was followed by "bang! bang!bang!"
Stuart did not obey the order.
"Halt! halt!"
And a storm of bullets whistled around our heads. I had drawn my sword,but before I could go to Stuart's assistance, Tom shot ahead of me.
He came just in time. Two of the enemy had caught up with Stuart, andwere making furious cuts at him. He parried the blow of one of theFederal cavalry-men--and the other fell from the saddle, throwing up hishands as he did so. Tom Herbert had placed his pistol on his breast, andshot him through the heart.
But by this time the rest had reached us. A sabre flashed above Tom'shead; fell, cutting him out of the saddle nearly; and he would havedropped from it, had I not passed my arm around him.
In another instant, all three would have been killed or captured. Butthe firing had given the alarm. A thunder of hoofs was heard: a squadronof our cavalry dashed over the hill
: in three minutes the enemy wereflying, to escape the edge of the sabre.
Stuart led the charge, and seemed to enjoy it with the zest of afox-hunter. He had indeed escaped from a critical danger. He had pushedon with a few of his staff, as I have said, to Fairfax Station, had thenstopped and slipped his bridle to allow his horse to eat some "Yankeeoats," and while standing beside the animal, had been suddenly chargedby the party of Federal cavalry, coming down on a reconnaissance fromthe direction of the Court-House. So sudden was their appearance thathe was nearly "gobbled up." He had leaped on the unbridled horse; seizedthe halter, and fled at full speed. The enemy had pursued him; he haddeclined halting--and the reader has seen the sequel.[1]
[Footnote 1: Real.]
Stuart pressed the party hotly toward Sanxter's, but theyescaped--nearly capturing on the way, however, a party of officers at ablacksmith's shop. The general came back in high good humor. The chaseseemed to have delighted him.
"Bully for old Tom Herbert!" he exclaimed. "You ought to have seen himwhen they were cutting at him, and spoiling his fine new satchel!"
Tom Herbert did not seem to participate in the general's mirth. He wasexamining the satchel which a sabre stroke had nearly cut in two.
"What are you looking at?" asked Stuart.
"This hole, general," replied Tom, uttering a piteous sigh.
"Well, it is a trifle."
"It is a serious matter, general."
"You have lost something?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"A joint of my new flute."
And Tom Herbert's expression was so melancholy that Stuart burst intolaughter.
"You may have lost your flute, Tom," he said, leaning on his shoulder,"but you have won your spurs at least, in the cavalry!"
XVIII.
DROWSYLAND.
At daylight, on the next morning, Stuart had crossed the Potomac intoMaryland.
He had advanced from Wolf Run Shoals to Fairfax Court House, where themen rifled the sutlers' shops of tobacco, figs, white gloves, strawhats, and every edible and wearable:--then the column pushed on towardSeneca Falls, where the long wavering line of horsemen might have beenseen hour after hour crossing the moonlit river, each man, to preventwetting, holding above his head a shot or shell taken from the caissons.Then the artillery was dragged through: the panting horses trottedon, and the first beams of day saw the long column of Stuart ready toadvance on its perilous pathway to the Susquehanna, by the route betweenthe Federal army and Washington.
The word was given, and with the red flags fluttering, Stuart movedtoward Rockville, unopposed, save by a picket, which was driven offby the advance guard. Without further incident, he then pushed on, andentered the town in triumph.
A charming reception awaited him. The place was thoroughly Southern; andthe passage of the cavalry was greeted with loud cheers. Unbounded wasthe delight, above all, of a seminary of young girls. Doors and windowswere crowded: bright eyes shone; red lips laughed; waving handkerchiefswere seen everywhere; and when Stuart appeared in person, he wasreceived with wild rejoicing.
He bowed low, removing his plumed hat, but suddenly intelligence camewhich forced him to push on. A long train of "government" wagons hadcome up from Washington, and on discovering our presence, returnedtoward the city at a gallop. But the ferocious rebels were afterthem. Stuart led the charging column--the warlike teamsters were soonhalted--the trains became our spoil--and with countless kicking mulesdriven onward in droves before them, the cavalry, escorting the capturedwagons, continued their way toward Pennsylvania.
Moving all that night, Stuart came to Westminster, where Fitz Lee, thegallant, drove the enemy's cavalry from their camp, and the town fellinto the hands of Stuart.
Here scowls instead of smiles greeted us. Every face was glum andforbidding, with a few exceptions. So we hastened to depart from that"loyal" town, and were soon on the soil of Pennsylvania.
Approaching Hanover we suddenly waked up the hornets. Chambliss, leadingStuart's advance, pushed ahead and drove in a picket. Then that bravesoldier rushed on, and seemed intent on taking the place, when I wassent by Stuart to order him "not to go too far."
I came up with Chambliss as he was charging, but had scarcely given himthe order, when he was charged in turn by a heavy force and driven back.
The enemy rushed on, firing volleys, and the road was full of trampinghorsemen. To avoid being carried away with them, I diverged into afield, when all at once Stuart appeared, retreating at full gallopbefore a party who were chasing him.
It was a serious matter then, but I laugh now, remembering that "goodrun."
Stuart and myself retreated at a gallop, boot to boot; leaped ditchesand fences; and got off in safety.
A few moments afterward his artillery opened its thunders. From thelofty hill, that hardy captain of the horse artillery, Breathed, roaredobstinately, driving them back. Hampton's guns on the right had openedtoo--and until night, we held the heights, repulsing every advance ofthe enemy.
It was truly a fine spectacle, that handsome town of Hanover as I lookedat it, on the afternoon of the fair June day. In front extended greenfields; then the church spires rose above the roofs of the town; behind,a range of mountains formed a picturesque background. It is true, theadjuncts of the scene were far from peaceful. The green fields were fullof blue sharp-shooters; in the suburbs were posted batteries; down themountain road behind, wound a long compact column of cavalry.
Breathed fought hard that day. From the waving field of rye on theupland his guns thundered on--in the face of that fire, the enemy couldnot, or would not, advance.
So the night came on, and Stuart's great train moved.
Those wagons were a terrible encumbrance to us on the march. ButStuart determined not to abandon them, and they were dragged on--a linestretched to infinity!
Thenceforth, dear reader, the march was a sort of dream to me. How can Irelate my adventures--the numerous spectacles and events of the time? Iknow not even now if they were events or mere dreams, seeing that,all the long way, I was half asleep in the saddle! It was a veritableDrowsyland that we moved through on horseback! The Dutchmen, the"fraus," the "spreading," the sauer-kraut--the conestogas, the redbarns, the guttural voices, the strange faces--were these actual things,or the mere fancies of a somnambulist? Was I an officer of real cavalrymaking a real march; or a fanciful being, one of a long column ofphantoms?
I seem dimly to remember a pretty face, whose owner smiled on me--and afaint memory remains of a supper which she gave me. If I am not mistakenI was left alone in the town of Salem--hostile faces were around me--andI was falling asleep when Hampton's cavalry came up.
I think, then, I rode on with him--having been left to direct him. Thatwe talked about horses, and the superiority of "blood" in animals; thatat dawn, Hampton said, "I am perishing for sleep!" and that we lay down,side by side, near a haystack.
All that is a sort of phantasmagoria, and others were no better thanmyself. Whole columns went to sleep, in the saddle, as they rode along;and General Stuart told me afterward, that he saw a man attempt to climbover a fence, half succeed only, and go to sleep on the top rail!
Some day I promise myself the pleasure of travelling in Pennsylvania. Itpossesses all the attractions to me of a world seen in a dream!
But after that good sleep, side by side with the great Carolinian,things looked far more real, and pushing on I again caught up withStuart.
He advanced steadily on Carlisle, and in the afternoon we heardartillery from the south.
I looked at my military map, and calculated the distance. The result wasthat I said:--
"General, those guns are at a place called Gettysburg on this map."
"Impossible!" was his reply. "They can not be fighting there. You arecertainly wrong."
But I was right.
Those guns were the signal of the "First day's fight at Gettysburg."
XIX
CARLISLE BY FIRELIGHT.
It
can not be said that we accomplished very enormous results atCarlisle. The enemy defended it bravely.
Stuart sent in a flag, demanding a surrender: this proposition waspolitely declined; and for fear that there might possibly remain somedoubts on the subject, the Federal commander of the post, opened withartillery upon the gray cavalry.
That was the signal for a brisk fight, and a magnificent spectacle also.
As soon as the enemy's response to the flag of truce had been received,Stuart advanced his sharp-shooters, replied with his artillery to theirown, and dispatched a party to destroy the extensive United Statesbarracks, formerly used as cantonments for recruits to the army.
In ten minutes the buildings were wrapped in flames; and the cityof Carlisle was illumined magnificently. The crimson light of theconflagration revealed every house, the long lines of trees, and madethe delicate church spires, rising calmly aloft, resemble shafts ofrose-tinted marble.
I recall but one scene which was equally picturesque--the "doomed city"of Fredericksburg, on the night of December 11, 1862, when the churchspires were illumined by the burning houses, as those of Carlisle werein June, 1863.
So much for this new "Siege of Carlisle." Here my description ends. Itwas nothing--a mere picture. An hour afterward Stuart ceased firing, theconflagration died down; back into the black night sank the fair town ofCarlisle, seen then for the first and the last time by this historian.
The guns were silent, the cavalry retired; and Stuart, accompanied byhis staff, galloped back to a great deserted house where he establishedhis temporary head-quarters.
Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins. Page 6